Much like Hannibal from the A-Team, I do indeed love it when a plan comes together. Unlike Hannibal, I can’t really handle cigars as I inhale all wrong and feel a bit sick, and I don’t have a team of crack commandos who were sent to prison for a crime they didn’t commit. Or at least, I’m not telling you about it if I do. But those two differences are not important today. No merely the similarity and sadly several plans have not come together and so I am slightly peeved. This blog is much later than I wanted it to be because of these plans not being at all cooperative with each other. Today was meant to be a relaxing day where myself and Layla went to see a wedding venue that she has already been to, and was certain I would love it. We were then to have some lunch, drive home and have a nice relaxing Bank Holiday Monday together. The first bit that went wrong? I didn’t love the venue. I didn’t hate, but I didn’t love it. Some bits of it were really very nice and in fact, most of it was pretty good, but I just couldn’t see me being the groom there. Layla could definitely see herself being the bride there however, and I wondered if we should get married over Skype. I’m not entirely sure what I want in our wedding venue. I mean, that’s not true. Ideally, I’d like to get married in a big castle with knights, jousting and general medieval mayhem. Or on a spaceship. Or a safari park. Or somewhere like that. But that won’t happen. So instead I’m now going to have to spend a lot of time looking at places for what it is I do want. They definitely need doors, windows, chairs, a bar and forks and things. They definitely don’t want to be on fire, contain zombies or explosives. I will start with that list and see what happens.
Upon leaving the venue we hit bank holiday traffic. That’s like normal traffic only with even shittier more angry drivers because they think they should be having a day off, but they’re not. I did wonder how many drivers causing this traffic were indeed bankers and several saw the red and charged straight through anyway, which is similar to how Barclays treat my account. So several hours of traffic later, and I’m now at home. Seemingly all to plan at this point, no? No. I’ve said I’ll host Old Rope tonight because a) its a great gig, b) I’m broke and c) I’m an idiot. I say c) I’m and idiot because 1) I haven’t worked on any new material, 2) I was looking forward to not gigging and 3) I’m definitely an idiot. So, like a complete wuss, I shall quickly end this blog with a series of bullet points while I scribble away at new material for tonight’s gig. I have had a lot of thoughts lately, so here are a few:
– On Radio 2 this afternoon, the lead singer from Scouting For Girls was discussing the greatest ever British songwriters. I’m not sure why they asked him on when his lyrics include such rapes of the English language as ‘Elvis isn’t dead, I heard him on the radio.’ There are, before you even delve into the aural shitstorm that is the rest of that song, many many things wrong with those lyrics. Firstly, does he not understand the concept of recorded music? As a ‘musician’ he should probably understand that it is a way of capturing a voice and when the radio plays music, it isn’t because that singer has shrunk and hidden in the radio, or because they have had to get to the studio to sing the track live everytime. Can you imagine if that was the definition of being alive? To have your voice on a recorded format? The world would be so ridiculously over-populated. Anyway, this wasn’t what I wanted to vent about, I should be writing new jokes. What I wanted to vent about was the singer’s sentence describing how he felt when he heard ELO’s Mr Blue Sky for the first time. He said, and I quote, ‘it literally blew my mind.’ No, it didn’t. It might have metaphorically blown his mind, but it did not literally blow his mind. The big difference is, I wish it literally had, just so his brains were splattered across a wall somewhere instead of being used to parp on the concept of music.
– I have decided, I think, to cull the people I follow on Twitter. I am trying to make rules how to do so, but I’m fairly sure some people might get annoyed. Thing is, I’m truly tired of reading how ‘I’m having a drink’, ‘I’m going to the park’ etc etc. The point of Twitter is to write updates that may interest others, not simulate how a child may write about their summer holidays in a present tense. I am fully aware that everyone does a few boring tweets, myself not an exception, so I think I will allow everyone I follow one or two a day. If they exceed that, without any attempt to buffer them with exciting links, jokes or comments I need to know about, I’m unfollowing. That’s the new self made law of Twiernan. I hope you will do the same to me if I commit such twatrocities. Quality, not quantity as someone who correct a spelling mistake on sweet packaging once said. Or more likely, I’ll just keep following everyone anyway and get angry.
– This also goes for Facebook, but I haven’t yet worked out how to do this. There are lots of people I am ‘friends’ with, that I don’t really know or have met because they saw me at a gig. I am totally cool with being these lovely people’s ‘friend’ but most of them haven’t joined my fan page. This means that while they are happy to have me as a ‘friend’ they aren’t a fan of my work. The important difference here is, if you are a fan, then you can come to my gigs etc, whilst generally having nothing else to do with me. If you are my ‘friend’ and you accidentally invite me to your birthday, I may come because I have little else to do, be terrible company, not know anyone and possibly ruin your day. No one wants that. Think it through.
– The man running for Tory MP in our area states on his leaflet (which looks fairly glossy and probably cost loads Cameron you hypocritical twat) that he is not a ‘career MP’. Why would you put that? You mean we might be enticed to vote for someone who can’t be arsed to fully commit to his constituency and just wants to do it as a hobby? Someone who has two other big business jobs and so many offshore bank accounts, he doesn’t really need the job but thought he’d do it for a laugh? The second part of his double barrelled surname is Cox. I feel its appropriate. Chris Cox also has that surname but isn’t one. I felt I should put that in as he reads this and I didn’t want him to get sad.
Hmm, that was a lot angrier than it meant to be. That’s what Bank Holiday traffic does. Grrrr. Joy should follow tomorrow. I don’t know who she is, which is why I only say ‘should’, incase she just stays at home.