I would like to congratulate whichever PR spin doctor came up with the idea of hashing up the votes for the final of that ballroom dancing game show on the BBC.
Until last week I couldn't have named you a single contestant, told you how the show worked (other than it's people dancing - but I wasn't 100% sure it wasn't on ice-skates), or what night of the week it's on.
Now, thanks to the 'voting debacle', it's been on the news and in the newspapers and everything and has been publicised to the sort of people who have better things to do on a Saturday night than watch the goggle box.
A PR campaign very well executed.
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
New look, same old story
So the latest paper to get a new-look design make over is the Metro. Spewing multi-colour and shaded lines all over the place.
Is this to make it look more like a website? Although that seems to be still mostly blue and red.
I don't know how the Metro is fairing these days - I know I'd still rather read it that some of the dross being put out by local news groups.
Plus the Metro is free so can afford it's revamp.
For those who don't know, ailing paper's usually try to recoup losses by;
a) sacking as many staff as they can legally get away with
b) making those journalists who are left do twice as much work
c) redesign the paper
d) make the folio smaller so there's less work to be done - but also less news in the paper
e) when they've re-hashed the look of the paper, reduced the staffing levels to the point where the remaining staff are all off with stress and taken half the pages out, they charge more for paper!!
And then they sit back in their big cheese offices and wonder why the industry is struggling.
Is this to make it look more like a website? Although that seems to be still mostly blue and red.
I don't know how the Metro is fairing these days - I know I'd still rather read it that some of the dross being put out by local news groups.
Plus the Metro is free so can afford it's revamp.
For those who don't know, ailing paper's usually try to recoup losses by;
a) sacking as many staff as they can legally get away with
b) making those journalists who are left do twice as much work
c) redesign the paper
d) make the folio smaller so there's less work to be done - but also less news in the paper
e) when they've re-hashed the look of the paper, reduced the staffing levels to the point where the remaining staff are all off with stress and taken half the pages out, they charge more for paper!!
And then they sit back in their big cheese offices and wonder why the industry is struggling.
Monday, 1 December 2008
Twas the Night Before Xmas
I know it's a tad early for festive celebrations, but as it's the 1st December I think I can (just about) get away with this.
If anyone is familiar with the traditional seasonal poem Twas The Night Before Christmas here is an alternative version.
WARNING: Contains language not suitable for young children.
'Twas The Night Before Xmas
'Twas the night before Xmas and the kids wouldn't sleep,
Mamma was upstairs wrapping an Action Man jeep.
Pillowcases had been left out at the end of the bed,
In the hope of a visit from that big man in red.
The plastic has been buzzing all through December
And they were well in the red as the fire turned to ember
It had to be put out so Santa could come,
Not a hint of credit to poor dad and mum.
The little brats were all hyper on chocolates and candy,
Leaving papa in his kerchief sipping the end of the brandy.
A Christmas seemingly so perfect, but still papa laments,
Because he knows for this day there are still 12 more weekly payments!
The WII's second-hand, he sighs, and the Tardis is fake,
"There as much ours as a bloody snow flake."
When out in the back yard there arose such a din
He sprang from his chair to see what was occurring'.
He pulled on his crocks and his superman t-shirt,
"Keep still," he told Mamma, "someone's gonna get hurt."
When what to his wondering eyes should he see,
But the chav family next door nicking someone's Christmas tree.
There were half in the yard, and busy them all,
Eight of them pulling the tree up over the wall.
With a little hoody leader so lively and quick
Papa shouted, "Oi leave it or I'm calling the nick."
"Now dickhead, now knob, now idiot and twat,
"I'm not going to let you ruin someone's Christmas like that!"
But then in a twinkling, papa heard in the flat,
The prancing and pouring of another little prat.
Who was busy in the living room while he'd been making a fuss
Nicking the wide-screen and the brand new sky plus!
His eyes how they twinkled with criminal intent,
His cheeks were flushed as to the window he bent,
Dressed all in kappa, from his head to his toe,
His hoody still wet from the Christmas eve snow.
The stump of a rollie was held tight in his gob,
As this little hoody hoodlum set out on the rob.
He had a spotty face and his legs shook like jelly,
As he walked to the window with their flat-screen telly.
He spoke not a word, but gave papa a wink,
The little shit was taking everything but the kitchen sink!
After he'd finished his work with the nimble speed of an elf,
Papa cried out in fear, in spite of himself.
"Don't take the presents," he pleaded in fight,
As the little bugger ran off into the night.
He sprang over the fence, and to his team gave his a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
So papa exclaimed, 'ere he refilled his glass,
"Christmas is it? Merry Christmas my arse!"
If anyone is familiar with the traditional seasonal poem Twas The Night Before Christmas here is an alternative version.
WARNING: Contains language not suitable for young children.
'Twas The Night Before Xmas
'Twas the night before Xmas and the kids wouldn't sleep,
Mamma was upstairs wrapping an Action Man jeep.
Pillowcases had been left out at the end of the bed,
In the hope of a visit from that big man in red.
The plastic has been buzzing all through December
And they were well in the red as the fire turned to ember
It had to be put out so Santa could come,
Not a hint of credit to poor dad and mum.
The little brats were all hyper on chocolates and candy,
Leaving papa in his kerchief sipping the end of the brandy.
A Christmas seemingly so perfect, but still papa laments,
Because he knows for this day there are still 12 more weekly payments!
The WII's second-hand, he sighs, and the Tardis is fake,
"There as much ours as a bloody snow flake."
When out in the back yard there arose such a din
He sprang from his chair to see what was occurring'.
He pulled on his crocks and his superman t-shirt,
"Keep still," he told Mamma, "someone's gonna get hurt."
When what to his wondering eyes should he see,
But the chav family next door nicking someone's Christmas tree.
There were half in the yard, and busy them all,
Eight of them pulling the tree up over the wall.
With a little hoody leader so lively and quick
Papa shouted, "Oi leave it or I'm calling the nick."
"Now dickhead, now knob, now idiot and twat,
"I'm not going to let you ruin someone's Christmas like that!"
But then in a twinkling, papa heard in the flat,
The prancing and pouring of another little prat.
Who was busy in the living room while he'd been making a fuss
Nicking the wide-screen and the brand new sky plus!
His eyes how they twinkled with criminal intent,
His cheeks were flushed as to the window he bent,
Dressed all in kappa, from his head to his toe,
His hoody still wet from the Christmas eve snow.
The stump of a rollie was held tight in his gob,
As this little hoody hoodlum set out on the rob.
He had a spotty face and his legs shook like jelly,
As he walked to the window with their flat-screen telly.
He spoke not a word, but gave papa a wink,
The little shit was taking everything but the kitchen sink!
After he'd finished his work with the nimble speed of an elf,
Papa cried out in fear, in spite of himself.
"Don't take the presents," he pleaded in fight,
As the little bugger ran off into the night.
He sprang over the fence, and to his team gave his a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
So papa exclaimed, 'ere he refilled his glass,
"Christmas is it? Merry Christmas my arse!"
Monday, 17 November 2008
Beat the credit crunch - sack a servant
I'm sorry, but I can remain silent no longer as middle class journalists scamper to get on the credit crunch bandwagon by coming up with ever more far-fetched angles on the current economic downturn.
Some weeks ago there was an article in The Guardian's Saturday 'travel section' about how to have a skiing holiday on a budget.
And now today there is an article in Wales' national (ha ha!) newspaper the Western Mail about poor tax-dodgers, I mean students, who are unable to take gap years due to the recession.
I hate to burst people's bubbles, but mummy and daddy not being able to afford to pay for you to bum your way though Thailand smoking joints and getting laid, or having to cut back your annual skiing holiday to Austria from three weeks to just two is hardly living on the bread line.
C'mon people. Being made redundant from your minimum wage shop job because things are slow on the high street and having to decide if you spend your dole money on the heating bill or presents for your kids this year - that's toughing out this whole godamn mess the fat cat bankers have dropped us in.
Gap years? Skiing holidays? Next you'll be telling me Mr and Mrs Snob have had to sack one of their servants to keep up with the payments on their second home in France.
Can we have a reality check please?
Some weeks ago there was an article in The Guardian's Saturday 'travel section' about how to have a skiing holiday on a budget.
And now today there is an article in Wales' national (ha ha!) newspaper the Western Mail about poor tax-dodgers, I mean students, who are unable to take gap years due to the recession.
I hate to burst people's bubbles, but mummy and daddy not being able to afford to pay for you to bum your way though Thailand smoking joints and getting laid, or having to cut back your annual skiing holiday to Austria from three weeks to just two is hardly living on the bread line.
C'mon people. Being made redundant from your minimum wage shop job because things are slow on the high street and having to decide if you spend your dole money on the heating bill or presents for your kids this year - that's toughing out this whole godamn mess the fat cat bankers have dropped us in.
Gap years? Skiing holidays? Next you'll be telling me Mr and Mrs Snob have had to sack one of their servants to keep up with the payments on their second home in France.
Can we have a reality check please?
Friday, 14 November 2008
Religion and riots
My comedy gig last night went well. I was on the same billing as poet and playwright Patrick Jones (see link below) who has been in the media limelight recently in Wales because Christians don't like his work.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/7725790.stm
Honestly, freedom of speech and all that. And I thought religion preached tolerance and respect and love of your fellow man!
I was also approached by a 'fan' after the show - which was great and very exciting.
My festive Christmas poem based on Twas the Night Before Christmas' raised the most laughs of the evening. I'll try and get it published here in the next few days.
I'm still keeping up with Annie's Antics in America:
Friday, 7 November 2008
Annie in America
Ha ha, and so I'm back.
Well I've never really been away, it's just that I've been reading Annie Rhiannon's blog about her trip to America to meet Barack Obama.
Sounds like she's having an amazing time, I don't know how to do links on this blog thingy, so I'll just paste her website:
http://annierhiannon.blogspot.com/
I've also been busy preparing for some more gigs I've got coming up, one of which is at a literary festival. (Comedy as literature? Surely not? It's just, well, comedy. It's silly, and unstructured and chaotic and simplistic - at least my comedy is anyway.)
They want me to talk about how I got into doing what I do (I didn't like to ask what it was the organisers think I 'do' exactly, although I'm curious to know myself) to encourage other people to pick up the quill, as it were, and try and be creative.
D'ya hear that? The organisers of a literary festival think I'M creative.
Well whaddya know. I just hope when I'm there this week they think it's comedy too.
Well I've never really been away, it's just that I've been reading Annie Rhiannon's blog about her trip to America to meet Barack Obama.
Sounds like she's having an amazing time, I don't know how to do links on this blog thingy, so I'll just paste her website:
http://annierhiannon.blogspot.com/
I've also been busy preparing for some more gigs I've got coming up, one of which is at a literary festival. (Comedy as literature? Surely not? It's just, well, comedy. It's silly, and unstructured and chaotic and simplistic - at least my comedy is anyway.)
They want me to talk about how I got into doing what I do (I didn't like to ask what it was the organisers think I 'do' exactly, although I'm curious to know myself) to encourage other people to pick up the quill, as it were, and try and be creative.
D'ya hear that? The organisers of a literary festival think I'M creative.
Well whaddya know. I just hope when I'm there this week they think it's comedy too.
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
Penalised for NOT being in debt
It is unfair that you can't book certain things online without a credit card.
I've tried in the past to book train tickets, tickets for events or even buy goods and when I get to the 'pay page' the website curls up into a foetal position and starts crying if I give it my ordinary bank account card details.
This is not fair.
To have a credit card means you are in debt - you borrow money from the bank to pay for things - yet you get benefits for doing this, such as insurance on purchases.
No wonder there is a global credit crisis when the average Joe is given benefits for being in debt!
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