Something A Little Pretentious 2

Hello,

here is a delightful picture of me allowing a little pretentiousness into my life, a few years ago. Fear not! I was pretending to be French.

Heroes (Ed. 2)

Welcome back to the second in a sporadic series, giving brief outlines on the select few; the ones I call my heroes.

Today, we celebrate another one of the departed - Terence Alan Milligan. Also known as Spike to the millions that he touched.

I can just about claim that I grew up with his influence, my earliest Spike memory is the opening to one of his programmes and him sawing half of the "2" logo for BBC2. The only book I have ever saw my Dad read (and probably will ever see read) was a 1972 edition of The Goon Show Scripts, which I then read. The lunacy and sheer level of imagination required to make the adventures come alive seemed to be beyond that of most adults - thought like this should be left to the children.

As I got into my teenage years, I got a copy of 'Rommel: Gunner Who?' and read it from cover to cover, one hot summer's day. I wept with tears of laugher as the nearly deadly miscalculation that nearly killed Harry Secombe ended up uniting two of the Goon triumvate. 

Shortly after was the Comedy Awards ceremony.

As Spike chugged past seventy, appearances on television decreased in direct inverse proportion to the volume of praise he was afforded by a new group of surreal comedians who I related to, like Eddie Izzard, and mostly Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer.

In 1998, I had the opportunity to meet Spike and Norma Farnes at a book signing at Waterstones in New Street, Birmingham (co-incidentally, next door to the head office of the Multimedia Toastie Company). He was late for the signing, but my astonishment, he ran up the steps past me in the queue. Amazing sprightliness for a man of advanced age (in my humble opinion). I asked him very nicely to sign my book, and I produced the 1972 scripts, which he kindly signed and dedicated to my Dad. To which he said, "Not this! This is years old!" He then made a fuss of Eileen's Elmo rucksack, giving it a voice.

Truly, the very best reason not to turn up to an Electonics lecture.

Whenever anyone asks me what my life's ambition is, I tell them I have already achieved it - to meet Spike.

Under four years later, he had been taken from us - when I found out he had died, it was within a stone's throw of Waterstone's, and I was with Eileen at the time.

Without putting myself in the same league as him, I can appreciate the wild mood-swings, addictive personality, devotion to the surreal, fascination with children's thought and need to make people laugh.

I am still astonished by his capacity to bring struggle upon himself, with tales of huge alcoholic binges, self admission to 'mental institutions', the constant womanising and workload that he chose to undertake.

All this, and to remain funny at the same time.

A true hero.

Welcome To Birmingham, 2

Hello again.

After some vitriolic picture-based ranting about Birmingham, here are some more friendly images you might like, all taken by me.

Commentary above the pictures. 

Here we have some of the remaining building that was part of the original Snow Hill Station, which was suposedly entirely demolished in 1977. (Tragic shame - visit this slideshow on flickr for more depressing details.)

This is the view from the top of the car park, looking down Edmund Street. Quite atmospheric!

Taken from the Moor Street car park, a shot of the iconic Selfridges part of the Bull Ring. Everyone who visits Birmingham takes a picture. Here it is from another angle, hopefully showing the flow of the curves in a new way.

More from a lazy trip back to my house, the new Snowhill (one word!) office building having the finishing touches being added to the glass. View from the station courtyard.

This is the back of the library, where there is an unexpected outbreak of greenery which jars against the jutting concrete of Central Library. Flowers even make it into the shot. Just. Note the blue sign, a blaze of poetry. Also, computer generated clouds due to poor white-balance.

Welcome To Birmingham, 1

I have some lovely pictures of Birmingham, I really do.

I also have some ghastly examples of this fine city. Starting with these...

Snapped on the way in to work recently, we see the work of a Thursday night pavement Picasso. As you can also see, the work is being inspected by representatives of the Pigeon Arts Trust to see if it can be saved or permanently displayed in the Tate Modern. 

I am impressed with the attention to detail of deliberately adding cigarette ends to the regurgitated lager and curry, as if to say "there was a third factor involved in this vomit...you need to appreciate the depth and other textures involved".

A triumph all round, for the artists, and the cleaners at Flares who let this stay on their steps overnight. 

Here is the sign which as of today was still on the Livery Street (car park) exit of Snow Hill station. I have deliberately left on the phone number, I dare you to phone up and ask what exactly a "Chef Highway Engineer" does. Out of shot is the detail saying "Completion January 2008".

Thanks to W.W Design for this clanger. I thought that this would be a one off, or it would be changed as soon as someone commented. But no, this has been re-used throughout the renovations of 'Paradise Place', a.k.a. that bit with the shops in under the library.

"Would like to apologies"? What? I admit that occasionally might spell a word incorrectly, but THIS IS A SIGN IN A PUBLIC PLACE. Who proofreads this? I can imagine the conversation, "Shall we check it for spelling Lance?" "Nah, they'll have done that upstairs." Whilst upstairs are thinking "Did we spell check that? Ah, bugger it. It'll be spotted."

Some one is being paid to produce this crap.

Grr.

Anyhow, many thanks to Sam Sparro for keeping me entertained whilst I write today, check out "Black and Gold". 

Something A Little Pretentious

Evening,

I have been taking time from running on the spot and eating apocolyptically minging out of date mackrel (more on that later) to look through some old photos. Here's one of me trying to look casual, refined and intelligent, whilst having a rucksack and what appears to be a XXXL rain jacket on. Outside Broadcasting House, in London. In (possibly) April 1998. Love that hair.

Minging Mackerel update: I thought I'd have a light dinner of smoked mackerel and some leafy salad. It seems that both were off. But not just off, but rank. Full on "Poo!" on opening rank.

They are now both in the bin, which combined with the other food I chucked out at the start of the diet is causing a spectacular pong.

That word again, "Poo".

CrapWatch

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Associated Press, please let it be known that a rear bowel movement droppage occurred just a few moments ago. All is well. There will be no futher statement.

Thank you

Weight Loss Diary

Afternoon,

For those of you that aren't aware, last year I did some beneficial weight loss for me and the lovely NSPCC. I lost 22 pounds of weight, and the NSPCC gained £603 in donations.

Little did I think I would need to do it again so soon. 

So, on May 1st I took a ceremonial hangover allied to an overstuffing of pizza onto the scales at work, where I weighed in at an alarming 93.1k.

Off I go again on a meat-and-alcohol-and-white bread free diet for a month. This time though I have the gym as a further tool/incentive.

The gym is great. It has already exposed my poor fitness and chronic deterioration in the swimming stakes, and advertised my puffing fat redness to many attractive ladies.

Fantastic.

On the plus side, I already feel lighter. On the negative side, I haven't had a 'sit down toilet' since before my weigh in. Stay tuned for "Crapwatch".

Living On My Own Again, Part 3

Further to the madness of the last post, some sense in the form of a link...

http://www.frieze.com/issue/article/obscure_objects_of_desire

Hmm.

Living On My Own Again, Part 2

As I was saying, living on my own has done something to my brain.

For food, I have been actively seeking out mushrooms. I have been unable to resist pastry based snack foods. Each meal seems to contain cheese. Where has the variety gone?

Each night, if a documentary comes on the tv, that's it for the night. Gone. Recently, I watched a three part documentary about tailoring. Tailoring! A useful craft, yet to me, previously as about as exciting as clouds.

I have also seemed to have developed some odd, and all consuming passions.

Like an as-yet unnamed female local news presenter.

Everywhere I go, she is in the back of my mind. I used to tune into the news to see if she was there. Now, I record the news.

Is this wrong?

It has also led me to the underworld of websites for men who have unsubstantiated crushes on news presenters. Firstly, I have form in this region. Way back when the internet was just a baby, oooh, years ago, I was a regular reader (lurker) of alt.fan.philippa.forrester - and for those of you with a FatBoy Slim album, check out his producer, then check out the name of the first poster on that group. Yes, the one and the same, megastar producer is the AFPF Godfather.

But I digress.

Things have moved on from simple "set your video for..." and "did you see..." sections, there seems to be hundreds of 'cappers' from around the country who tune in to view my local news just for this lady.

For anyone that knows me (and that includes you, dear reader!) you will understand that I was surprised shocked and setback by this news.

Then saw my own hands start to download them. How? I seemed to be losing control of my mouse and mind.

When will this end?

I think I may start a silent campaign to remove Sir Trevor from the top rank of Drinking Newsreaders and replace him with her.

Anyhow, I'm off to bed, to contemplate my own timewasting stupidity. And possibly send an involuntary mail to the local tv asking for her signed photo.

Is it just me?

Living on my own again, part 1

Evening,

Living on your own after a long time does something odd to your brain. I will go on...however need to get into position with large bottle of splintergut cider and watch the football. Back later, if I can still type.

Where are my posts going?

I think that the post I wrote about half an hour ago (nothing special, actually about USBs - man, why was I writing about them?) disappeared. If anyone has seen it, please get in touch.

Nathan Barley Times Four

Part of a post from last week. Especially the bit about the hit-and-miss wifi.



Grr. Apart from all of the lovely, hit-and-miss wi-fi in here, and the Police arresting a drunk, it's pretty good in Wetherspoon's for writing. Cup of ok coffee and a muffin, and trying to track down some Newcastle socks for under £10 (try it! include delivery!) all was well.


Until a few moments ago when a group of total Nathans arrived and inundated the pub with their hilarious copied from the tv catchphrases and loud ruminations about how much they wanted to bang Dr. Reid from Scrubs.


They were so annoying, I was considering leaving. Until they left, abruptly, and the pub breathed a collective sigh of relief. I started writing about it, then the wi-fi packed up.



So I left anyway.


Note to readers: following this, Nothing Too Pretentious warmly reccomends T-Mobile Web and Walk Plus. (Which failed, the first time I wrote this section, losing all I wrote.)

I Will Survive!

Hello nation,

It has been a long time since I did ANYTHING to this place - since January 15th, in fact - the time has come to drag my new(ish) laptop to the sheer joy of Wetherspoon's and the free wi-fi. What have I been up to? Well, I have had literally thousands of emails asking about...well, work stuff. I know that to say that you have a blog is about as cutting edge as saying "I have an email address", but this place is a little online sanctuary of calm.

I say calm, I took me literally two hours to log into the place. But at least in the meantime I found out that Kate Lawler finished the London Marathon.



My trawls through tape land have reached about half way; all of my tapes are going to be consigned to the great landfill in the west and be replaced with MP3s. I never knew I recorded myself doing so much crap.

Anyhow, I am back, and shall decree that MONDAY NIGHT IS BLOGGING NIGHT and at least one update will go in from now on each Monday.

Back shortly.

Top Gear

Anyone who knows me (and this includes you!) will know that I'm a fan of BBC2's Top Gear. I like that it democratizes celebrity by making its guests take the same test around the same track in the same car.


Whilst trawling the internet for, er, essential research material over Christmas, I discovered the true extent to which people love Top Gear.


Linked below are the friuts of an as-yet unnamed New Zealander, who has faithfully recreated the Suzuki Liana and the test track at the Top Gear airfield. If I was wearing my hat, it would be permanently removed in salute. Unnkown New Zealander, you are a hero.

http://www.muddleglum.orconhosting.net.nz/darktopgear.htm

Enjoy.

Darts

Afternoon,

I have been deeply impressed in the last week by the skill and commitment shown by the darts players in the BDO World Championship. I have also been moved by the deft turns of phrase of the commentators, as well as the lunacy of some of the paying visitors attire.

I have been playing pool since everything was black and white, and with an impending move and severe change in my cash situation - Darts will be my sport for 2008. It was going to be golf. I was thinking about joining a pool league. No, darts will win because it is:

• Free
• Helps my arithmetic
• A sport I can practise indoors in a relatively small area

It's only three days to payday, I've been in touch with Greggs for a bulk delivery of Steak Bakes. Watch this space.

Bad Decisions

Have you ever made a decision? I have. 

Have you ever made a good decision? A long time ago I decided to stop jumping off the tops of low-ish buildings onto grass. This is an example of a good, no, very good decision.

Have you ever made a bad decision? Shortly before I decided to stop jumping off the tops of low-ish buildings, I decided to...try jumping off the tops of low-ish buildings. Bad decision.

Have you ever made a decision that was so bad, so fundamentally flawed in every aspect that if somehow you could summon Henry Moore from his eternal rest to sculpt this very decision, his finished work would be the word "WRONG" in delightfully fluid, eight feet high marble letters; so wrong it keeps you awake at night; so wrong even it keeps you awake AT WORK; so very wrong you feel you may have irretriveably altered the entire course of your or humanity's history? 

Really, only a few people could make such spectacularly poor judgements.

Some suggest George Bush made a bad decision about his whole foriegn policy. I don't think it was his decision at all. He's just easily persuaded.

The member of staff at White Star who forgot to hand the key back for the binocular cabinet. Very poor decision (with the perfect vision that is hindsight).

Though I like to think of genii who made bad decisions as a comparison. Take Robert Oppenheimer. Genius. Undoubtedly. Also, father of the Atomic Bomb, an item which has kept humanity in fear for nearly sixty three fluctuatingly, stomach-churningly tense years. To explode it? Without question, bad decision for humanity and half a million unknowing Japanese.

But nothing, nothing, is as bad as the decision to let your girlfriend go. Without really wanting her to go. 

No guarantee of returning to the place you once had. Life isn't like Mark's and Spencers where exchanges can be made if you change your mind. Life may decide to give you a refund on those underpants, but the chances are you won't get a penny.

This is my bad decision. I will have to live with the fact I made it for the rest of my life. 

Whether she comes back or not.

I'm back!

Howdy blog,

I have returned from the wilderness to post some more ramblings on line.

More details later. Or earlier, because the newer stuff is at the top.

Tales From My Youth 3

Further old stuff, this time from my evangelical period as a Britpop era musicologist (originally written in coloured felt, entirely in CAPITAL LETTERS):

Oh my god, that's the funky sh*t

or the definitive guide to the new listener to jumpy shouty music

1. Find a decent couple of blokes to go to a student night-club with.
2. Come home.
3. Wake up the next afternoon with an aching head, sore neck muscles, bruised legs, splinter gut, a strange whistling noise in your head that just won't go away, and a feeling of complete euphoria at having the first great night of your life.
4. Rush out armed to the teeth with cash trying to obtain the tunes you heard last night. 
5. Return home with tears streaming from your eyes, realising your plan to buy Our Price with 48p, failed.
6. After a week of scratching around, you come across a blank cassette, and give it to a chum who has gone through the whole experience before.
7. Realise you are holding ninety minutes of pure, unadluterated fine music that will blow your nan's pants off even if she dared to think about saying "That's nice, dear".
8. Contemplate putting your new new TDK D90 in the machine.
9. Eat a steak and kidney pie instead.
10. Clear your bladder, this will be a pants wetting experience.
11. Go down to the shop to see if they've sold out of FHM's already. Failing that, buy a copy of GOAL magazine.

Do you know what? This all gets too autobiographical too soon. I don't think I know you well enough to let all of this out just yet.

Tales From My Youth 2

This is The Dorch - The Album. Don't worry if the time seemed to have stopped in late 1995 - it might have actually have done.

Consolidated/Crack MC - You Suck

Stealers Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You

Emf/ Reeves And Mortimer - I'm A Believer

Black Grape - In The Name Of The Father

Levellers - One Way

Oasis - Don't Look Back In Anger

The Offspring - Come Out And Play

The Beastie Boys - Sabotage

Body Count - Body Count

Rage Against The Machine - Bullet In The Head

Babylon Zoo - Spaceman (Radio Edit)

Josh Wink - Higher State Of Consciousness (Original Tweekin' Acid Funk Edit)

Blur - Country House

The Monkees - Daydream Believer

The Chemical Brothers - Leave Home

Run-D.M.C. - Walk This Way

The Beatles - A Hard Day's Night

Pulp - Common People

Skunk Anansie - Weak

The Presidents Of The United States Of America - Lump

The Presidents Of The United States Of America - Peaches

Paul Weller - The Changingman

The Jam - Going Underground

The Clash - Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Cypress Hill - Insane In the Brain (Explicit Album Version)

Supergrass - Going Out

Supergrass - Alright

Free - All Right Now

Various Artists - Are You Gonna Go My Way

Menswear - Daydreamer

Green Day - Basket Case

Cast - Fine Time

The Prodigy - Firestarter

Oasis - Roll With It

Ocean Colour Scene - The Riverboat Song

The Offspring - Self-Esteem

The Offspring - Nitro (Youth Energy)

Black Grape - Reverend Black Grape

Tales From My Youth

Evening,

I've just been looking through a pile of old papers, and found my list of tunes for "The Dorch - The Album". For anyone who doesn't know, The Dorchester was the centre of the universe for indie types who could dance for hours and liked 'retro' football shirts and enjoyed ridiculously cheap alcohol, in and around 1995.

A Google (click here to repeat search) only returned two relevant links to the place. Surely, everyone who survived its charms can't have not written about it online? Astonishing. But what has shown up is a Dorchester Reunion on New Years' Eve. Possibly see you there...if they could recreate The Deep, The Chill Out Room, The Caff (with chips for apparently 20p), the cages for exhibitionist dancing and bouncers who will insist on asking you for ID, even though the attendees' average age will be about 30.

To follow...the listings for "The Dorch - The Album".