A little bit of politics

Life has just taken yet another cruel twist for yours truly. After a top weekend with Gill I returned to work re-energized. I was actually looking forward to walking into Blockbusters and being able to dismiss Amber for the common tart she really is.

BUT, when I walked in I saw not just Amber standing behind the counter but her so called boyfriend Leigh.

As regular readers (Mess and Mr Coleman) will know, I was personally responsible for Leigh's dismissal some time ago when the store's dickhead manager Richard entrusted me in the sensitive issue of funds being lifted from the till. Turns out it was Amber, not Leigh, and when I told Richard this, he dismissed the allegations with a laugh.

Anyway, I went into the backroom to get changed into my uniform (I never walk the streets dressed in the uniform, I've never been good with uniforms) and came face to face with Richard. He told me that I needn't bother getting changed tonight, because my services were not required.

I gussed that he must have had a change of heart over Leigh. Given the guy a second chance, and that since I'd been away he must have changed the rota. I said as mush to Richard. He just laughed and told me not to go home and not bother coming back, not to work and not even as a customer.

Suffice to say, I asked him what he was talking about. "I'm sacking you Barry," he said "for sexual discrimination."

At first I thought it was a joke, I even said "are you having a laugh?" But he wasn't smiling. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, looking so self-satisfied I would have punched him, and I would have done too, except I'm pacifist.

SEXUAL DISCRIMINATION. I couldn't believe it.

After all that stuff with Sky when I first entered the world of Citizen Journalism, I know a thing about sexual discrimination. And Richard was going to have a fight on his hands for unfair dismissal. I'd already practically started spending the damages fee in my head, I'd get myself a car and maybe even take Gill away again. When it comes to sexual discrimination cases, you need actual proof before you can make those sorts of allegations. I'm no mug!

How could Richard possibly have proof that I'm a sexual deviant? For starters, I'm not and even if I was, I'd be smart enough to cover my tracks!

I told him I'd see him in court, but before I could leave, Richard went outside and then came back with Amber and Leigh. "Show him," said Richard. Amber took out her mobile phone.....

Flippin heck, she had all those messages that I'd sent her after my disasterous Internet date. I didn't bother arguing readers, even though I'm defintiely not a pervert, in black & white in a mobile phone inbox, it really did look like I'd been pestering Amber.

As I walked out of the room, Leigh barged me with his shoulder, "sleep wiv one eye open bruv," he said, just like what's her name did on Eastenders the other night. I'm not scared of bullies like him. But I didn't want GBH charges levelled against me as well, so I just walked out.

So, there you have it, I'm back on the old rock 'n' roll. Not that I've signed on yet, I've never been a benefit scrounger. Like my Mum says, there's plenty of work out there for those that want it. Only trouble it, I'm not sure what work I should get into.

When I walked in through the front door I noticed a couple of pamphlets lying on the floor, one for the BNP and the other for the UK Independence Party. It got me thinking, what with all that stuff in the papers recently about how much politicians can make by fidlling their expenses, it actually sounds like you can make a fair bit of money.

I've always been interested in politics, but never really considered becoming a professional MP. Maybe I should. I don't think I'll bother with BNP or UKIP (even though my Mum really loves Robert Kilroy Silk).

Having read both pamphlets I tend to agree with everything they've written, but I feel I have to say that I fundamentally disagree with all they stand for. Still, it's a free country and far be it from me to compare them both to the Nazi party. They're not racist they say, but then Hitler said that too and once he was elected into power he changed his tune pretty sharpish. I can well imagine Kilrory Silk and the game fencing off Golders Green and getting the locals to paint little stars of David on their front doors.

I'm not sure which political party to go for really. I might have to do a bit of research. Could well make for an interesting article for The Metro. I'll write them an email and see if they're interested in my 'pitch'. I need the cash after all, this f*cking mortgage won't pay for itself and what with all the migrant workers taking all the jobs, I could be looking for work for quite some time.

Your the honourable member for Newsdesk.
Barry

Straight to bookshelf

Jobs are funny aren’t they? I mean we’ve all got to have one, but so many people don’t like theirs, it makes you wonder why they bother. I absolutely love my job at Blockbusters, but like it says in the song, love don’t pay the rent. I’m on the breadline and I really should start thinking a bit more about how I can bring in a few more spondulicks.

When I was a nipper up in Lincoln I used to dream of being a policeman, but back in those days you needed to be at least 5’11” in order to qualify. I looked long and hard at my Mum and Dad, 5’8” and 5’2” respectively and realised I’d be hard pushed to make the Force. My Mum being little didn’t matter so much, but it would be my Dad’s lack of stature that would let me down. It wouldn’t be the first time he let me down or the last either readers, but that’s a different story, for another time.

Pretty soon though I was glad that I wouldn’t be a copper. My friend Steve’s Dad was a copper and pretty much no one trusted him. Steve got pretty badly bullied for a while, then it stopped abruptly when the Dad of one of the bullies was pulled over for speeding and some cannabis was ‘discovered’ during a rectal investigation back at the local station.

No one bullied Steve anymore, but no one talked to him either. Apart from me, I wasn’t scared. Mind, I did suggest to Steve’s Dad more than once that I thought my Dad was a secret weed smoker and he was never pulled over, apart from the time he ran a red light, then the copper just let him off with a warning.

Pretty soon I decided that I wanted to be a footballer and play for Notts Forest. Although, to be honest, sports weren’t really my strong point, well, not until I took up judo, which I only took up when the bullies’ attention moved from Steve to me. I’m a black belt now readers, I’d love to run into those bastards again in a dark alley. Even though I’m a pacifist, I think I’d probably put my resolve to one side this time and give them a well-overdue pasting.

When I took up judo, the only professional judo exponent was Brian Jacks. Man, he really was the king of the dippers. Not surprisingly, I never really harboured ambitions to be a professional judo fighter.

Pretty soon I discovered girls and music. I bought a bass guitar and joined a band. Well, I formed one anyway, with Steve. We were called Cut ‘n’ Run, and played electro-funk goth fusion. We did a gig at the church hall, it went down well, but in all honesty, it was highly unlikely that I’d carve myself a career in the business. When I saw that character in the League of Gentlemen, the bassist in Crème Brulee, it reminded me a lot of Cut ‘n’ Run! You’ve got to laugh sometimes haven’t you? If you didn’t you’d cry. :-(

Anyway, I don’t want to go into too much detail about my search for a job from childhood to adulthood. Suffice to say I went to college and got a Desmond (as in Desmond Tu-Tu) in Mineral Processing and Material Reclamation. I qualified just in time for the UK mining industry to collapse. NICE ONE MAGGIE!!!

I ended up in media sales, more by accident than design, and that’s where I stayed for the next 15 years until I was made redundant and started out on my quest to become a Citizen Journalist – that was under five months and over 70 posts ago, and here we are. I’ve had over 1100 hits and 11 great followers (welcome aboard Jimmy!! - you can read my latest follower Jim's blog at this link here. It's well worth a trip.)

I have to admit, I’ve not really seen much financial reward in journalism. Not a single one of my submissions to The Metro has resulted in payment and my freesheet adult entertainment magazine, The Oyster, has proven the old adage that ‘sex sells’ to be inaccurate. All this recent talk of sponsorship opportunities looked promising, but amounted to nothing.

I was starting to think that maybe writing is not that great a career after all. There aren’t that many superstar journalists are there? Apart from Paxman, natch.

Then I thought, ‘but journalists are writers Barry, there are loads of famous writers and quite a few rich ones too’. Look at JK Rowling. I LOVE Harry Potter. They’re great, they’re so addictive, they’re meant for kids I know, but I’ve got the ones with the ‘adult’ sleeves (they’re not covered in pictures of boobs ;-) they’re just plain and serious, so when you’re reading them in public, it looks like you’re reading a proper grown-up’s book).

Writing books is not as hard as you’d imagine readers, the trick is coming up with something no one else has ever thought of that taps into a market hungry for something they didn’t realise they were hungry for. I mean to say, who would ever had thought a book series about a wizard would have been successful?! And Rowling’s books have all been turned into films, so now she’s a multi-millionnairess ten times over. Thanks books. She had a secret up her sleeve all right, or should that be wizard’s sleeve??! lol ;-))

I started thinking about what I could write about that no one has realised they want yet. I went into the local library to do some research. I basically took a pad and pen and then wrote down all the types of books they stock. It took flippin ages!!! I thought I’d write down everything and then whatever was left would be a market as yet untapped.

I stumbled across a whole section full of books that are based on films. But not the actual films, different stories featuring the same characters as in the films like Star Wars and Star Trek. There are loads of famous films that were actually books first. Most people reckon the books are better than the films, but obviously they take a lot more time to consume so people opt for the film version.

Anyway, I thought to myself ‘rather than write a book that I hope gets turned into a film, like JK Rowling, and rather than writing a new story with the same characters that were in successful films. I would write a book version of a successful film’. The beauty of this is all I have to do is sit and watch a film and write down exactly what I see.

It’s targeted at people who think that books are better than films, but they’ve read all the books that have been turned into films and they don’t want to waste their time reading books that feature the same characters that are in films, but doing different stuff.

I just need to find a popular film that hasn’t been turned into a book! It’s harder than you’d think readers. Any ideas?

The great eight

I’ve just had one of the best 24 hours of my life. I did an afternoon shift at Blockbusters yesterday. It was just me and Richard. That guy is control freak, y’know who he reminds me off?

IAN BEAL from EastEnders. He even looks a bit like Adam Woodyatt (that’s Ian Beal’s name when he’s not being Ian Beal).

Richard effects a certain sanctimonious air. Honestly readers, if I wasn’t a practising Buddhist I’d love to give him a slap. It didn’t matter though, the shop was pretty quiet so I spent most of my time watching free films and eating M&Ms. I guess that’s to be expected in the afternoons – which is probably why Richard took the shift!!!!

On the way back home I was passing the Wheatsheaf pub and I spotted Leigh and Amber in there. I joined them for a few drinks. It was a bit weird at first, what with us being colleagues, but after a couple of pints we really started to hit it off. I must admit, most of the conversation centred on what a jerk Richard is. Leigh calls him Dickard. Sometimes you need a common foe.

I’ve got to admit, even though Leigh didn’t go to university, he’s as sharp as a razor. I guess he went to the school of hard knocks instead. We had such a great night, and I really think I bonded with Amber. I think the three of us might become firm friends. Like the Musketeers.

Leigh rolled up a fat bifter and we had a few tokes. Even Amber. I didn’t think she was that type of girl.

Mum always told me it was the quiets ones I had to watch !! ;-))

Today was even better, I just bummed around for a while in the morning. I called Leigh to see if wanted to have a smoke. But he just said he was busy “y’know what I mean bruv?” he said. I’m pretty sure I heard a girl in the background. That boy is soooooo street.

I killed a few hours playing Pro Evolution Soccer. Gill called a couple of times, but I let it go to ansafone. Treat em mean innit, as Leigh would say.

The day got better, Notts Forest got an away win against Reading.

Then I logged on to check the blog, and things went into overdrive. After losing Steve, Vince and Norks earlier in the week (then getting Steve back). I have gained another follower.

Better still, my new follower is famous!!!!!

None other than David Coleman.

If you've been living on Mars or something, David Coleman is a sport commentator famous for saying particularly stupid things whilst commentating. Here are some of my personal fav 'Coleman Balls' as they're known (he actually said these...!):

1. That's the fastest time ever run - but it's not as fast as the world record.
2. Don't tell those coming in the final result of that fantastic match, but let's just have another look at Italy's winning goal.
3. For those of you watching who do not have television sets, live commentary is on Radio 2.
4. This is a truly international field, no Britons involved.
5. Both of the Villa scorers - Withe and Mortimer - were born in Liverpool as was the Villa manager Ron Saunders who was born in Birkenhead.
6. He's 31 this year - last year he was 30.
7. He won the bronze medal in the 1976 Olympics so he's used to being out in front.
8. We estimate, and this isn't an estimation, that Greta Waltz is 80 seconds behind.
9. Linford Christie's got a habit of pulling it out when it matters most.
10. The late start is due to the time.
11. He's got his hands on his knees and holds his head in despair.
12. He's even smaller in real life than he is on the track.
13. This could be a repeat of what will happen in the European games next week.
14. It's a battle with himself and with the ticking fingers of the clock.
15. Here are some names to look forward to - perhaps in the future.
16. In the Moscow Olympics Lasse Viren came in fifth and ran a champions race.
17. He just can't believe what's not happening to him.
18. One of the great unknown champions because very little is known about him.
19. There'll be only one winner now - in every sense.
20. He is accelerating all the time. The last lap was run in 64 seconds and the one before that in 62.
21. The big Cuban opened his legs and showed his class.
22. (At the velodrome) The front wheel crosses the fininsh line, closely followed by the back wheel.

Classic. Welcome aboard Dave. Please feel free to commment, I'd love to see a few more of your balls!! geddit?!?

;-)

Reality cheque

There comes a time in every man's life when he has to face up to his responsibilities. Well, there comes a time in every heterosexual man's life at any rate. The gays seem to get away with a lifetime of parties and promiscuity. Sometimes, I wish I was gay. I have a lot of friends that way inclined and they always seem so happy. I suppose that's why they were dubbed gay.

Sadly, I am one of the many men in this world who is not gay. So I must face up to the reality that my girlfriend will at some stage want to move in and 'settle down'.

Jeesh readers, I hate that expression. 'Settle down'. It's so middle aged, middle class and middle England. I'm so weary of conforming to society's norms. Even though I was a salesman at the time, I went on an anarchist rally a few years ago to protest against capitalism. Those guys seem to have it really nailed.

I've been reluctant to settle down. I love Gill, of course i do. But I look what happened to my dear old Mum when she settled down with Dad. Well, they had me and brought me up in Lincoln, so it wasn't all bad. But after that things went down hill. I love my Mum, and even though I'm not gay, I'm more than willing to express that love in tears. I've not told you about Dad have I? Maybe one day I will.

Maybe if they hadn't settled down then they'd still be together now. It's worth thinking about, as I said to Gill when we were talking about it the other day.

As I explained to her, I'm not interested in playing the field, of course I'm not. I believe in one man one woman - one vision, as it were (Freddy Mercury was gay, too. That's why the band were called Queen! But was he happy? Not if you listen to some of his lyrics. Although that one about the bicycles its pretty chirpy. Great band, though - and not in spite of Freddie being gay, but because of it!). No it's just I like my own space. I don't know, we'll have to talk about it some more.

I was going to see if Amber wanted to come around and watch The Passion by famous anti-semite Mel Gibson as part of my continuing research on religion. I'm not sure Gill would even bother watching such a film, she prefers romcoms. But Blockbusters is barely covering the mortgage, and I can't keep getting Mum to bail me out, she's not the Bank of England and I'm not RBS.

Gill pointed out that her moving in might help ease the burden financially. And I think she has a point. Maybe I should get a lodger. I wonder where Amber lives. We seem to get on really well, and would make great house share buddies. She's probably not even the type who'd worry about the fact there's no lock on the bathroom door.

Maybe I'll drop Mum a line and see what she thinks.

A dog’s life

Had a bit of a down day today, readers. I started out full of pith and vinegar, as my old Gran used to say. I realised that I was getting behind on my journalism and so I decided it was time to write that Dog Theft story. I had wanted to do a bit more research but, what with Blockbusters, my religious quest and normal life stuff like cooking, cleaning, eating, PES and Gill, I realised I just didn’t have the time.

Besides, I figured I had the meat of the story. I had Mrs Bradley and Raffles as the victims, I had the faceless bureaucracy of the Metropolitan police force representing a cold and uncaring society and I had my role as neighbour, which would have to double up with my role as writer. Granted, it wasn’t yet epidemic but even an epidemic has to begin with one crime. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, runs the ancient Chinese proverb, and a spate of dog thefts is no different, as I’m sure Confucius would tell us, were the great man still dispensing wisdom today.

I dialed 999 and demanded that I be through to the police. I spoke to them about Raffles, and I didn’t hold back. I told them I was a freelance journalist and that an anonymous tipster had informed me of their lack of interest in this serious case of theft. I told them it was supposed to be their duty to protect and serve, but the officer told me that was the motto of the American police. One point for him in the pedantry stakes, I suppose. But the moral victory was mine. He took down Mrs Bradley’s details and promised to look into it.

I toyed with the idea of nipping round to see Mrs Bradley for a few extra quotes but I was scheduled for an afternoon shift at Blockbusters and I really believe there’s no time like the present. Carpe Diem – that’s my motto! So I sat down at the iBook and crafted the following:

No Leads in Dog Thefts

Police have been unable to throw any light on the recent spate of pedigree dog thefts in the South West London area. Victims of these cruel canine kidnappings have been left with the sense that their suffering is not important enough to warrant the Met’s attention.
One victim, whose prize Bernese Mountain Dog, Raffles, was stolen from her front garden, described the police response as ‘apathetic’. When the Metro spoke to the Met, this claim was rejected, although the officer who took the call was able to offer no information on the case. It didn’t even seem to be on record.
One possible reason for this could be that the police don’t want to see their crime figures inflated. A stolen dog represents a crime; a missing dog does not.
As anyone who has ever marveled at the pristine specimens on Crufts will know, pedigree dogs are very expensive. Puppies can cost up to £300 and the money spent on their upkeep runs into the thousands, when you take vet bills and food into the equation. While pet owners can take out special insurance, this can never repay the sentimental value of the bond one strikes with Man’s Best Friend if something bad happens to them.
Relationships between the police and the public are often strained, with victim’s rights groups increasingly vocal. If the Met doesn’t get its nose to the trail in this case, it could end up in the doghouse.

ENDS

I was really pleased with this story readers, as it had a pun in the title, doggy allusions in the conclusion and some nice alliteration in the opening paragraph. The whole piece was punchy and read exactly like something you’d see in the Metro, so I sent it to them along with an invoice for £247. I think £1 per word is more than fair.

Realising I was running late for work, I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door to be met with a big shock. What did I see, readers? A police car parked outside Mrs Bradley’s house! Not only that, there were two policemen talking to Mrs Bradley!! And not only that, either: One of the policemen was petting Raffles!!! Mrs Bradley’s missing dog!!!! Because I didn’t want to interfere I hid round the corner and watched until the police had left and then ran up to Mrs Bradley. I enquired about Raffles and she told me he hadn’t been stolen after all, he’d just wondered off. He’d come back the same day at teatime, I just hadn’t noticed.

I asked her about the police and their apathy and she said she didn’t even remember saying that to my Mum!

I had a Yoko Ono moment, have you heard of those? As in I went Oh No!! It’s got nothing to do with splitting up the Beatles. I couldn’t believe I’d just emailed the Metro with the story and none of it was true! I’d only just begun may career and I was in danger of having something published that wasn’t factually accurate. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was now really late, I would have been in a right state. The only solace I could find was that it was Richard’s day off and at least he wouldn’t catch me being un retard, as the French say.

Or so I thought. The paranoid little Hitler turned up just to make sure we were all there and, of course, I wasn’t. He gave me a dressing down in front of the others, and I’m pretty sure Amber and Leigh were laughing at me. I felt like pointing out to him that Nottingham Trent University was originally supposed to be named the City University of Nottingham upon Trent, and that suited him just perfectly, but I kept my cool because I need the money.

After he was gone I tried to make chit chat with the others. But Leigh had a stream of friends who came in, all giving him those fancy handshakes, although none of them rented any DVDs, or even bought some sweets. And when I asked Amber if she had any performances scheduled, because I’d be interested to come and see one, she said it would be too weird, what with us working together.

What the hell’s with these people, readers?

Not a good day chez Newsdesk. :-(((

Blockbusters

Well readers I finally made it into the movie business!!

Only kidding ;-) I did my first shift at Blockbusters last night, it’s just to make ends meet until the journalism starts paying off. I did a six-hour evening shift and man I’ve got to take my hat off to the full timers, it’s really exhausting standing up for that long.

I’ve got to tell you readers it feels good to know that I’ve got some money coming in at last. I was starting to get a little worried. Ever since that fiasco with the redundancy package and my bloodsucking lawyers I’ve been tightening my belt. But I treated myself to a nice bottle red last night and take away curry.

Vegetable biryani. Mmmmmm.

My co-workers are an eclectic bunch and I can already tell that they respect my seniority. There’s Leigh (which is actually pronounced Lee! I know, it’s crazy isn’t it?) he’s mid-20s I’d guess and falls into the demographic that my Dad used to call, The Great Unwashed. My Dad was a bastard readers, I’ve not told you about my Dad, maybe one day I will.

I refuse to judge books by their covers, and that’s something you should probably take on board next time you’re in a Blockbusters (not that we’re moving back in time to become an old fashioned book library. Blockbusters is backing Blu Ray, which shows just how forward thinking we are).

Leigh was born and raised here in South London and has what can only be described as a faux Caribbean dialect, he peppers his sentences with the word “innit”. I must say, being a man of words I find this an abomination. That said, he seems to have a heart of gold, and I’ve never seen anyone in such demand!!! His mobile phone was practically clamped to his ear. I think he must know EVERYONE in Croydon. What a character!!

The store manager is a chap called Richard. He’s not short on confidence, I suppose you need that in order to rise so swiftly to the top. He’s a recent business studies graduate, he said he studied at Nottingham, but when pressed revealed it was actually Nottingham Trent University, which is a former polytechnic (I should explain to my American readers, and some of the younger readers from the UK, polytechnics were where people who didn't pass their A levels went). Richard seems to really know his stuff though. I do find him a tad arrogant, but I have to say I certainly see a lot of myself in him. Mind you, he didn’t react quite as I’d have imagined he would when I told him so.

Finally, there's Amber. Like me, she’s only really using Blockbusters as a stop gap measure. She’s an aspiring artist, who specialises in dance!!! She didn’t really say that much, she’s not that kind of girl. This is going to sound weird readers, but in many ways she reminded me of Mum. I love my Mum, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Generous and kind, thoughtful and thought provoking. She’s a vegetarian. Amber, not Mum. Jeesh, Mum probably thinks vegetarians are all lesbians.

I didn’t reveal that I’m a Citizen Journalist, I figure I’ll lie low and do some research in cognito. It’s a bit like being a corporate spy really. I did chat about religion though. Leigh said he supposes he must be a Christian, Richard is an atheist (typical!) and Amber, a Humanist.

Like I say readers, an eclectic bunch.

The magnificent seven

Seven is a magical number. The Japanese believe it to be lucky, there were seven samurai, after all.

Manchester United, arguably the most famous football team on the planet, bestow the 7 shirt upon their star performer: George Best, Bryan Robson, Eric Cantona, David Beckham and Cristiano Ronaldo all made their mark in the 7 shirt.

There are seven deadly sins.

It’s a prime number, which means it is only divisible by one and itself. So it seems highly appropriate that yours truly has now got seven followers.

SEVEN.

It seems like only yesterday that my good friend from California, Jennifer Walker-Shannon, became my first follower. Swiftly followed (excuse the pun) by Donnac1968 and Steve.

However, it really was only yesterday that the number of followers swelled to over twice its size.

Mark Stanley from the Emerald Isle has joined the fold. He’s the marketing manager for a very worthy not-for-profit organisation called Citywise which was set up to run education, sporting and personal development programmes. I can really empathise with Mark, sometimes it feels as though my career in journalism is a not-for-profit venture! Gerry Adams recently visited Citywise. As a journalist I’d love to pose a few questions to him. I’d have to tread carefully though, you get the impression he could be a bit touchy.

Karen Snyder became by second female Stateside follower. Her excellent blog, Tales From The Social Media Front line, is very high brow. Karen describes herself as a "Social Media Ninja". I’m sure she could show me a few social media moves. Her favourite music is UB40. She seems to have painted herself into an unusual corner there readers! Red, Red Wine. A classic.

Karen also follows a blog called Fuck You, Penguin which has over 3700 followers. WOW. I’ve decided to follow that one to see how it’s done. All of a sudden my magnificent seven is starting to look a trifle under-whelming. No offence followers – as Donnac1968 says, from small acorns do mighty oaks grow, hopefully!

Next up is Vince another American. I think it’s fair to say he’s a serial follower. Vince currently follows over 170 different blogs. You’ve got to admire the Americans’ work ethic. When he’s not following blogs Vince is a copywriter. So, hopefully he’s be able to pick me up on my typos. I should also add that Vince has 69 followers of his own.

Last, but by no means least, is Jack Nork. Jack is yet another American. He’s got three blogs on the go. Like I say, you’ve got to admire the Americans’ work ethic. I don’t know if Jack is aware, but his surname might well raise a few smiles back in my hometown Lincoln, as another word for tits is norks. No offence.

I’ve got to go now readers. I’ve got an interview for a new evening job at Blockbusters, just to make ends meet before my journalism starts covering costs.

See ya :-)