Drive Time

First of all i would like to draw your and everyone elses attention to the new petrol tax headed our way. Lucky us.

Driving for some is either fun, frightening or a chore. You either do it because you enjoy it, because you have to or because if you didn't you would spend even more time in traffic. Viewing it from the chewing gum ridden seats of one public transport vehicle or another. That is of course presuming said vehicle actually turns up in the first place. A few people I know choose not to drive mainly because they have realised the truth.... they aren't any good at it and would be a hazard and a danger to other road users. I admire their candour.

Unlike other road users with whom I regard as enemies (don't we all) I am usually pretty easy going but have a bit of a 'patience breakdown' when people start exhibiting symptoms like these:


The Speed Freak: Actually the opposite of the fast moving-suped-up-corsa-driving 19 year old you would expect. These types actually adhere to the speed limit as tenaciously as a pious man attends mass in 15th century Rome. This is mainly annoying when coming out of a 60 mph area and into a built up 30 mph area. As the speed freak will ensure they are already doing 30 well in advance of the streetlight addled, signposted area. Then usually end up doing 27 anyway... Just to be safe.

The Lane Changer: Usually associated with what used to be termed 'BMW drivers' now spreading to the general populous. Those who in short fits of pre-emptive psychic visions are convinced one lane of a traffic jam will move quicker than another and will continually 'swap lanes' in a typical 'grass is greener' fashion all the way through Streatham, Brixton or other similar highly congested area. The lane changer will rarely use their indicators instead will presume you also possess advanced psychic powers and are watching their every move because they are clearly smarter drivers than you and must be doing something so clever that you should allow them in and then follow them, because they are right. Instead do your utmost to be patient and try and get ahead of them so you can demonstrate how an indicator works by cutting them up and timing the traffic lights as such so you leave them stranded there next time they change.

The Tailgater: Quite obviously insecure and probably not hugged enough as a child the tailgater, having detachment issues finds it necessary to examine your rear bumper as close as is humanly possible. While at the same time remaining in a low gear to enable them to stop quicker, lest your slow down and accelerate quicker so they can be close once again.

The Rich Tosser: This label applies to anyone, whether it be in a new Jaguar, a BMW X5 or some other spangly new fangled contraption. Of course this isn't a general rule as some people who buy these cars do it because they like them and it represents the ultimate evolution of machine (personal to them) as a 'driving experience'..... the rest of them are 'tossers'. Notice how most have absolutely no clue how to drive their ostentatious money flaunting machine and less of an inkling of how wide said vehicle is. British roads, as we all know, were not built at the time of the automobile and with space at a premium haven't really got much wider in the later years. People who spend that much money on a car should at least know how to drive the damn thing instead of just sitting behind a parked car on the side of the road waiting for oncoming traffic to let them by. Even though you could get a John Deere tractor through the gap that's ahead of them.


To be honest, it's us fools who live in the south-east that are the main culprits for driving idiocy. I'm originally from 'up north' and as such my parents have brought me up in a down to earth friendly geordie kind of way.

Try it for yourself sometime, simply get in your car when you've got time off and drive up to Scotland. After you pass Preston on the west or Newcastle on the right things start to slow down. Except for white van men (that's understood though, they have a reputation to uphold) it's almost as if people are using their cars for enjoyment, a real Sunday drive attitude everyday of the week. I don't understand why we have all got ourselves in a god-awful rush. Life is pretty long and would be a lot sweeter if things were left to grow organically, deadlines weren't so unrealistic and people planted roses and helped them grow, not just stop by to smell them once in a while.

So slow down, not only would it increase your chances of not becoming a statistic. You would arrive to work only slightly less cross because the traffic my friend..... Will always be with you.

Porn Flakes

Online buying and selling is quite commonplace nowadays, well at least if you have access to a computer. Personally I have quite a bad habit of Amazon overkill. My job, while quite busy does get a little tedious. Especially as I work 9-5 and when I say 9-5 I mean the 'other' 9-5. You know, the overnight kind. So while my button pushing, camera moving, microphone toting antics are important to the type of live television I am involved with. Sometimes things get a little slow and I simply have to buy some crapola to amuse myself.

Unfortunatly what frequenly happens as of late, what with my bizarre circadian rhythm, is I buy things at 02:34 on Wednesday morning and then completely forget about it on the drive or train journey home. Come Friday morning a couple packages appear from Tim, my friendly local postie and it's like Christmas! 80% of the time I have absolutely no clue what could be in them. Yesterday I hurridly opened some brown paper and bubble wrap to discover a Laser poiner/torch, a pair of Heelys and a childrens book called Not yet, Yvette. The book and the Laser pointer I can almost justify, but Heelys? I'm 29 years old dang it!

The Heelys are absolutely hilarious however, mainly because no-one would ever suspect you are wearing them at that age. I find it particularly amusing to stand in the local Wine Rack and discuss the finer points of of the Campo Viejo 1995 Gran Reserve Rioja and why that year was particularly good. Or reminisce about the bottle of Eileen Hardy Shiraz you once had and gave to a friend for a 21st birthday present (William Tyroll if you're reading this, i hope you savoured it). As soon as the person isn't looking I will 'Heel off' at speed across the newly polished floor to the Australian whites section. Needless to say i suggest you get yourself some.

Laser pointers, as any 14 year old will tell you are the ultimate evolution of the R/C car. What do they have in common i hear you ask. Simple, they both extend your sphere of influence. Anybody who can affect his environment, even in subtle ways, without touching something physical automatically gets you noticed. Loud people get noticed, they are also bloody annoying. Especially if they are particularly stupid and have limited grasp of cause and effect. Because they compound their idiocy into a package that cannot be baulked. If you attempt to restrain or advise against their obviously flawed beaviour their brains can't process the information quickly enough. So they just shout at you instead, i'm sure you all know at least one oaf that fit similar criteria. Anyway, I digress. Laser pointers are a simple way to expand you sphere of influence but are always better if used covertly. Don't go and shine it in someone's eyes, even if the label says 1mw. Shops, businesses (office meetings especially if you're not in them), apartment windows at night and cats are all fair game. Cats are particularly hilarious. Those crazy critters will chase the 'elusive red dot' for ages or at least until they tire or run into something. (RSPCA note: I don't condone this behaviour but would draw you're attention to this). It's also great for entertaining your drunken bloke house guests and excercising your feline if said cat has eaten 'other cats' dinner.

As for 'Not yet Yvette' It was bought as a joke present for Babestations finest (IMO) Yvette. The leggy half american honey for the aforementioned television show, to be found in the 900's of the Sky platform and also can be found in a different format as Party Girls on Freeview (Channel 46). While having the 'gift of the gab' Yvette is also a bloody good laugh and a amazing television presenter, but is at the moment tragically confined to the more 'sordid' angle on televisual fame. The lifestyle we all lead is quite extraordinary and most absurdly bizarre. Stories the likes of which you will have to go to the ends of your imagination to believe, but all of which are true.

Now you know what I do, I shall hope to see some of you texting the show and with luck, if I am working that night i will get you one heck of a shout out.


Some of the exploits of cast and crew will be appearing in this blog, but for now dear reader, you will have to be patient and wait for a future installment...

Would you like fries with that?

Work is hard, at least that's what I've always been led to believe.

In all my experience i have never had a job that i have considered 'really hard' work. I left school with a handful of qualifications that even the most apathetic of students would scoff at. Nonetheless I have managed hotels, ran bars, trained staff, written, directed, produced and starred in low budget films, started a chilli sauce company all by myself, sold insurance (difficult and soul destroying), been a 'white van man' and produced live television shows. Which, incidentally is what i do now.

Work should never be that hard, it should just be something you enjoy. I have been fortunate enough to work a lot in the customer service industry, you know those people that serve you your food and drinks at various venues.

Now i know what you're thinking "You mean those dumb-witted half wits who either forget your order or come back with a plate of ravioli with grated cheese on top when you ordered the Steak. Well it's people like you that i enjoyed the most. It was my favourite hobby, being a bit of a body language aficionado, to spot the slightly more 'picky' types. Those people who particularly enjoyed mocking their server or looking down their noses on what they considered to be a simple job that was far, far beneath them. Especially when in parties of six or so i would enjoy seating them , making sure they were comfortable and took some drinks orders and told them the specials of the day while they were deciding what to order. I would then return at the appropriate time and then let them reel off their respective orders, how they would like them cooked, with sides, while i just stood there, cracking jokes and not writing a single one down. Also making sure i up-sold some extra onion rings or special sauces (It is a business after all).

It was always fun to hear the ring leader of the toffs or the tight-wad of the group make sure everyone knew that no-one could ever remember all of that (they were also usually the ones who threw in some curve balls to make sure you would fail). Sure when i first started doing this i missed the odd side, but sides are quick and easy to remedy. Soon enough i could bring out the whole order, beaming with confidence and put these snot-nosed morons in their place without uttering a word. As the old adage goes; actions speak louder than words.

One of the many reasons i think i did this was mainly because i can't stand going out for a pot of tea and clotted cream scones (or whatever your lunchtime poison is) and ordering just that only for the useless server, who could be a spotty school leaver, a single Mum/Dad, or a bitter octageneric (who for some reason is still working with boiling water and computerised tills) to completely forget to place your order or bring back a Latte and a ring donut.

I think I have a hatred for bad service because I love to serve. I don't know where this puts me in the 'snooty customer' scale but I always make sure my server knows they have done a good job, when they have good banter and add their own personal flair to the whole experience. It's a shame that tipping is not the 'norm' in England or we might get better people serving us.

So, people of Britain! Unite I say, feel the national pride permeate your being, make sure you frequent quality establishments. If the food isn't the best give it another go, they might have a hidden treasure on the menu that turns out to be the best Shepherds Pie in England. Step out of your comfort zone and order that obscure French dish that you can only pronounce in a loud voice which reminds you of the last time you asked for directions to the beach.

Last but not least, tip your server and try the veal!

And so it begins... Again

I do a lot of people watching. Well, at least i used to do about 12 years ago. I'm approaching my 29th birthday now and i have often popped down a local coffee shop to sit quietly with an espresso or a glass of wine and contemplate the subtle nuances of interaction between customer and server, cupcake and coffee pot not to mention the infinite complexity of the possible outcomes when you stack sugar lumps one on top of the other above the fire exit each time you visit.

That said, i seem to have lost the insights that once came so clear to me. I literally filled notebooks with my musings and idle rants. If i went to another town and didn't have a notebook even to write down a simple phrase i would locate a bookstore and buy one... and a nice pen to go with it if i had forgotten that too.

This is a journey of self-rediscovery, to try and understand where i lost my ability to write compelling script and poignant prose. If i never get back what i once thought i had, was it ever any more real than Fnanik Quansi. More on that later.