This Is This

Oscar night’s fine with me. It gives us something to talk about and it elevates an artform to a talking point and there’s nothing wrong with that. People who argue that rewarding Hollywood stalwarts with little gold trophies does nothing for the artform aren’t seeing the big picture.

This prestige rubs off on every film-maker big and small, and therein lies an inspiration. Reputations follow an industry, but opions change. Journalists, politicians, priests, cooks - the perceptions of all these professions have all swung dramatically in the last 50 years. Back then saxophone players were to be treated with caution. They were wild Dad-io, out there cats. Now you average tenor player is more likely to be an industrious and meticulous student of theory and form.

Bloggers too, were once regarded as sad lonely individuals with nothing better to do. Mainly by me, admittedly, before I became one myself. But even this negative impression spurred me on to start one up, even at the risk of becoming a little like that stereotype.

So don’t worry what other people think, you can change things a little yourself, but pretty much things are going to change anyway whether you do make a decision or not. Opinions evolve and fashions change and there’s nothing you can do about it. Even falling into line doesn’t stop things.
So celebrate your differences and don’t worry what other people think. Do what you want so long as no one gets hurt and your intentions are good. Go ahead: learn the tuba, become a cartographer, wear both corduroy trousers AND shirt and re-inact the Battle of Gettysburg. Not all at the same time obviously, but you get the idea.

It’s still snowing in London. Remember that no two snowflakes are the same, and if you think how many billions of snowflakes are falling right now around the world you kind of think that’s not the best use of God’s time.

Heaven (lunchtime)
God: One million seven hundred and twenty nine thousand four hundred and ninety two, one million seven hundred and twenty nine th-
St. Peter: Sir, you’ve got your twelve o’clock with Archbishop Tutu about the Unita rebel crisis in Angola.
G: Dammit Peter! Don’t you ever knock?
St. P: The gates were open, Sir.
G: I’ve lost my place! The Design team are on an off-site today so I’m working by hand and I’ve got a backlog of six figures here!
St. P: I understand, Sir, it’s just that half a million people have been displaced and UNHCR is warning of a colera epidemic.
G: Anything on the wires?
St P: Reuters aren’t running the snowflake thing, Sir.
G: Jesus Christ.
JC: What’s up?
(applause)
G: Call Larry King and tell him we’ll give him a scoop on the Second Coming for a puff piece on the snowflakes. Peter, you take Production - make sure that no two are alike. And call Reuters and say if they don’t play ball I’m giving the Pope thing to AP. And let Tutu know I’m running late.
St P: …bad weather’s got traffic backed the traffic up to Pergatory.
G: I like it.
St.P: Ah -Sir? We got a match…
G: Roll back!!!

Apologies if this affends anyone. I am a spiritual person myself in a loose sense and I am tolerant of all faiths. Apart from maybe Faith Hill.

I have a career track record of working for companies that everyone has heard of, which I think is neat, in a kind of mildly-successful-but-unambitious-wage-slave kind of way.

The good thing is that I’ve never been at a party where people squint at me when I tell them what I do and I have to elaborate: “JB Smithsons? You know the plastic bit on thumbtacks which aren’t really thumbtacks? More finger-and-thumbtacks with the hourglass shapes on the end instead of the metal stud? Well we make those. - No, not the whole thumbtack, just the plastic bit. - Well, the yellow ones, anyway. - Yes, they are easier to pull out than the old ones, that’s our USP. I like to say I’m the ‘tacks man’. But seriously….”

———

This morning on the way into the office a guy held a door open for me as I walked in behind him. I thanked him and he replied, “My pleasure.”

What, for holding a door open? If that’s constitutes a pleasure, what’s the rest of your day going to be like? There must be an adjective to describe something that “doesn’t make sense and is insincere” but I can’t think of one.

Britain is in the grips of the big freeze

It started snowing yesterday. This is rare for London. I was in a meeting and was facing the window and interupted someone’s answer with a truimphant raising of the arms and a woohoo!, as is often my custom. They merely raised their eyebrows.

“It’s snowing!” I say.

“Eh, that’s not snow,” says Richard the Canadian.

The good thing about working in a big London office is that you can find someone who has been anywhere.

The bad thing about working in a big London office is that is that between you, you’ve seen it all and there’s always someone willing to tell you about it.

So any public declaration can be met with a conversation piece from someone who has experienced the same thing, only for them it was faster/cleaner/cheaper/softer/there were more of them/it lasted longer.

Me: “Woah. Did you see that?”
Colleague: “That’s nothing. This one time…”

Apologies to Richard the Canadian, who is a nice guy. I’m just saying, is all.

Irony just in:
My employer has gritted the space outside the smoking cabin, so my colleagues can smoke in safety without fear of slipping on the ice.

I have explanded my idea now, although it is only in its early stages. My plan is to develop a loyalty card scheme of my own.

Every person that sells me something me gets a card with ten boxes in it. Whenever they serve me, they get a stamp with my face on it. When the card is full, I will bring them an item for them to sell at no charge.

I will also team up with likeminded friends who want to be part of the scheme. So, for example, chain stores who regularly serve me at franchises down here could benefit from serving my affiliated consumers in the North of England.

I bought an egg sandwich and a cinnamon swirl (too much information) this morning and, as ever, the friendly cashier asked me if I had a loyalty card.

Again with the loyalty card thing! What is it with you people???? Everywhere I go: the garage, the supermarket, the coffee place, the travel agent (all right, airlines are ok, I guess), the car rental, the book store, everywhere - there is this obsession with loyalty cards. The answer, like it is every time you ask, is no. I might get a t-shirt made saying “I don’t have a loyalty card” and just shoot them a wry look when they ask anyway.

I don’t want to join your club, I don’t collect your points, I don’t want to have my card stamped with a little coffee cup and I don’t want your fucking stickers. There is enough in my wallet already. If I took advantage of every scheme going I’d have, I don’t know, like 58 cards.

Actually - why don’t I get 58 cards? Then when they ask me “Do you have a loyalty card?”, I can throw the entire stack at them and say “Yeah, it’s one of those.”

Anyway, Mister Supermarket man, I don’t have a loyalty card. In fact, I’m sorry you have to hear this from me, but I’ve been… well - I’ve kind of been seeing other supermarkets. No, you don’t know them, but what difference does it make? There’s this greengrocers by the train station. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been going on. Oh yeah? Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been seeing other customers. How do you like that shit? And you know what? I’ve never been loyal - that’s why I duck the subject the card every time it comes up. In fact, if you must know, I’m a bit of a slut. I go to which ever supermarket is nearest me - and the cheaper the better.

Sometimes it’s cool when people post blogs about their jobs. People spend a lot of time at work and it helps to understand something about a person once you know what they do.

I have so far chosen not to put too much about my family and job online. This is because I have a fairly high profile job. That’s not to say I am hugely important, but I am the “Head of X” for the “World’s Largest X” and I work in the media and the company is well known. I’m sure YOU’RE fine, but if someone reading this who doesn’t like the company I work for (and for reasons I don’t fully understand, there are a lot) then this site might get a lot of publicity and that would defeat the point of this site. I say “might” because I really don’t think that would happen.

I love my job and there are lots of good blogs written by people who like their jobs. Some folks who include their jobs in blogs don’t write about them exclusively - I think those “Confessions of an Air-con Salesman” blogs are boring. If I was that interested in your job, I would have become one myself.

But it’s cool when people drop in what they’ve been up to at work. I’ve never been great with the whole professional/personal balance, so I keep it separate. Here are some people who are better at it than me:

Bonnie, The Hollywood Insider
PC Anonymous, The Policeman
Jill Twiss, The Standup Comedian
Bob Mould, Musician and DJ

Fine blogs all. Hurrah. At some point I might reveal what I do, to regular posters and stuff. It’s really not that great. No one who discovers what I do says, “Oh my God! You’re THAT guy?!?!?” or anything. At best someone might say “I always wondered who did that, it sounds cool”. And yeah, it kind of is. Maybe I’m being cagey because the people who also work here at the “World’s Largest X” might not feel comfortable with themselves being in a blog.

Anyway, I’ve said too much, once again. Please excuse me before I tell you who I actually work for. I have to go now and stand over here and look for something.

(turns and looks conspicuous by giving something relatively trivial unwarranted attention in the hope that the concern might draw away from the mild embarassment at having given to much away)

My dad had his cateracts done this week. As he walked out of the surgery and into reception, Jimmy Cliff comes piping through:

“I can see clearly now, the rain has gone.”

You couldn’t make it up. The hospital staff swore they didn’t have any ailment-related mixed tape and that the songs played and the treatment received by patients was purely coincidental.

This might not be such a bad thing for morale. What if treatment centres played music depending on the treatment they gave out.

Your local family doctor could blare out James Brown’s “I Feel Good” to patients on their way out of the office. I’m thinking like consultant already. Outside the box, and everything, with win-win outcomes. Other no-brainers:

Plastic Surgeons: “Bette Davis’ Eyes by Kim Carnes”
Ambulance Drivers: “Alive, Pearl Jam”
Stress Consultants: “Uptight, Stevie Wonder”
Osteopaths: “Twist and Shout, The Beatles”
Vets: “Monkey Gone to Heaven, The Pixies”

I didn’t want to say it, OK, but the reason I was hungover (see below) was because I was out drinking until 2am with a Spice Girl.

OK - I was my with dad and she was one of 7 people in a hotel bar, but she was sitting across from me.

OK - I didn’t go OUT with her as such, I was in town for a football match and she walked in with some friends in to a bar where I ended up.

OK - I had consumed half a bottle of wine and four pints of Stella and was at the point where I was drunk enough to go over, but so drunk that I didn’t because I knew how drunk I’d sound.

But in my story, me and a Spice Girl shared a pleasant evening in a hotel bar at 2am and she found me witty and charming and we both silently decided my wife is a lucky woman.

Which is the truth, except maybe the last part, depending on how you tell it.

Next week: Jetskiing with Eminem.

I ordered a veggie burger in Nandos over the weekend and the waitress asked if I was a student. Presumably they have some kind of deal where our future captains of industry are granted a discount in recorgnition of all the hard work they put in.

“No,” I said, “it’s just my boyish good looks.”

To be honest and truthful my mission was to eat soak up a hangover with some processed beans, but I appreciated the compliment. She wasn’t amused anyway.

Pretty much, actually. Apart from the dreams thing - they are important, but not in the playful sense.

You scored as Winter. You are WINTER. You’re more introspective, thinking deeply, feeling deeply. You love nothing better than to enjoy one on one time with those who are important to you. You are cautious, and sometimes second guess yourself. Dreams, though you have them, are a luxury, because life is not a plaything.

What Season Are You?
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Everyone is well again. The world is fine. Apart from this .

This guy was an inspiration. Please buy the book when it comes out.