Invitation

Last week I was literally on Cloud Nine after receiving my ninth follower Cathy. At the time my excellent follower Mr Colman suggested in the comments section that I was getting so popular that I should start thinking about throwing a party when I reached the 1000 hits watershed.

Well, I responded that as I was on 811 hits, it wouldn't take a maths (or math, as my American readers no doubt call it) genius to work out that was only 189 away from the Big 1K.

I did a bit of back of the fag packet maths and calulated that at my hit rate per day ratio I'd hit the Big 1K on April 26th!

Well, what a week I've had. First up I got myself into a right mess in (yet another) case of mistaken identity. I thought Cathy's friend was Will Young. He wasn't Will Young though, he was (well, I suppose he still is!) Sam Tring. Naturally, I thought he must be Cathy's boyfriend. Then I was wrong again readers. He revealed that he's actually gay. I felt like a right plonker. Then some other guy calling himself The Finisher started following me. And, he's entitled to his opinions, just like I'm entitled to mine. Let's just say we didn't really hit it off straight away. But, thanks to the calming influence of Mr Coleman, we managed to patch things up. It's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned.

While all this was kicking off, I discovered that Amber from Blockbuster (happy now?) is actually seeing someone and so I've got a bit of competition for her affections. She knocked me back, but I'm not out of the game!! When something's worth fighting for, I'll not be detered. And, as per Mr Coleman's suggestion I reckon I'll throw a party on the blog and invite Amber!

Thing is, all the furore with Will Young/Sam Tring and The Finisher, my hit rate per day ratio shot through the roof!!!!

It's April 9th and I'm on 938 hits. I'm only 62 off the Big 1K and I haven't done a thing to get things ready for the party....

I'm going to need some help readers. That's where you come in.

I need you guys to spread the word that there's a party going down! Tell everyone, tell your friends, if they're a friend of yours, they're a friend of mine.

Bring a few cans of Cobra and we'll have a party right here on the blog. If you've got a wireless router, you might want to take your iBook into the kitchen, that's where people tend to congregate. Or perhaps if you're a smoker and you've got an iPhone or some other fancy gadget, you migth want to hang out in the garden with the other smokers. Everyone knows the smokers are always the coolest people at a party.

That's not to say I condone smoking, I don't, they're coffin nails. But maybe you've got some weed. Hey, chill out, you're among friends.

Don't bring any dickhead dust though, unless you're Barry McGuigan, I'm not going to argue with the Clones Cylone!!!

Pop some music on your stereo, that's the glory of this party, you can listen to whatever you want as quietly or loudly as you like. Although, if you're listening to Cliff Richard don't let me find out, I'll have you thrown out as a gatecrasher. Will Young look-a-like Sam Tring has offered to do a turn, and having seen his Bush, I'm not going to say no.

This blog post will have to serve as the invitation, so make sure you RSVP. I reckon, at the current growth rate, I'll break the 1000 barrier by Easter Monday. Handily enough, UK readers should have the day off so will be able get this party started, let's get this party started, let's get this party started!!!!

When Amber sees how many cool friends I've got, she's bound to see sense and choose a bit of Newsdesk in her life.

I'm pumped readers, I can hardly wait for Monday. Thank God for Jesus eh, without him getting nailed up we'd all be at work ;-)

word

Im-perfect 10

Well readers, I’m usually overjoyed when I gain new followers. But my latest addition, some guy calling himself The Finisher, seems like a total jerk-off.

He’s made a couple of comments already. He comes across like a right know-it-all. He seems to be friends with my excellent follower Cathy and her (purely platonic) friend Sam (nice video btw Sam - you sound just like Kate Bush!! - if you've not seen it readers, check it out here. It's BRILLIANT)

So, I don’t want to be too rude about my new follower, he might be Sam’s boyfriend. After all Sam did post that he loves cock and this Finisher bloke seems like a bit of cock.

He’s questioning my journalistic integrity. But I’ve had a look at his blogs Bad PR and Dart Club and they’re absolutely rubbish.

He reckons he’s a writer, but he can’t write for toffee. Actually, I’ve gone beyond caring whether or not I hurt his (or Sam’s or Cathy’s) feelings. He reminds of my boss Richard at Blockbusters.

The Bad PR blog is just a catalogue of whinging and moaning, and the Dart Club blog seems to be about him and his mates playing darts. WHO CARES???????

Get a life the Finisher. You might be following me, but that doesn’t mean we have to be friends, KK??! Wise up.

Unwanted followers are just stalkers!

Sorry for the rant readers, I don’t mean to waste my emotions on people like the Finisher. Sometimes I can’t help it though, I’m an emotional man. I get that from Mum probably. She raised me to care about stuff.

I guess I’m especially sensitive today because I asked Amber out yesterday at Blockbusters, I’ve been avoiding doing it, because we work together. I even asked Richard if I could get a transfer to another branch. But he said no, the wanker. Anyway, cutting a long story short, she said she was kind of seeing someone right now, so it was a bit difficult :-(

I can't believe it. I really thought we had something going. I really thought we'd bonded. We're astrologically perfect for each other. I told her this, and she said she wasn't really into the 'older man thing'.

I called Gill to see if she fancied meeting for a chat. But it went straight to voice mail.

I’m not losing hope with Amber just yet, as long as we’re working together there’s always a chance that she’ll come around the old ND charm.

Speaking of which, I’ve got a shift on now, so I’d better be off *sigh*

Confirmed Bachelors

Sometimes you just can’t do anything right. You know those kinds of days, readers? Not only did I mistake an entirely ordinary person – Sam Tring – for pop superstar Will Young, I then assumed Sam to be the boyfriend of Cathy, my most recent follower. Assumptions, assumptions. It turns out that Sam is just a good friend of Cathy’s.

I think, judging from his comments, that even if Cathy were the last woman on earth, she still wouldn’t do for Sam. He commented, you see, that he “loves cock”. And I know enough about the world to know that probably means he’s gay. Or at least bi-curious.

When I was younger, a teenager, I tried to think gay thoughts to see if I might be gay. It didn’t work. Try as I might, I couldn’t get excited about the prospect. I will admit to a brief period of time during which I found Billie Jean King attractive, but that’s as close as I got. Still, I did experiment with my thoughts, which proves that I’m not prejudiced. And it also proves I’m not in the closet, like Sir Cliff Richard was for all those years.

Apparently something like six per cent of all adults are gay. You probably work or have worked with someone who’s gay. Perhaps you didn’t realise it; after all it’s not always easy to tell. Here’s a tip from the BBC, though, which helps you spot when blokes being written about in their stories are gay:

The BBC always makes reference to whether or not the men are married or have kids. So, if someone is a ‘confirmed bachelor’ that means the BBC is tipping you the wink that they’re gay. Likewise if the BBC says, “Such and such is not married, and has no children”. It’s the same deal.

Here's a classic example.Here's another one involving a member of the Royal Family, and here's one more involving a former Prime Minister

And if you don’t believe all of this, then just look at this set of Cliff Richard lyrics, in which he writes of how his father forbade him a life of heterosexuality.

When I was young my father said
Son I have something to say
And what he told me Ill never forget
Until my dyin' day.
He said son you are a bachelor boy
And thats the way to stay.
Son, you be a bachelor boy until your dyin' day.

Jesus Christ, Freud would have a field day with that, wouldn’t he? Perhaps you are moved to feel sympathy for Cliff, over the fact that his father dictated such a personal element of his life, and that he lived for so many years with that waxy, fixed smile on his face while inside he was screaming out the truth.

But you shouldn’t feel sorry for Cliff Richard, because he’s a complete fucking wanker.

Will Young and a massive CORRECTION

I think I owe the blogosphere a massive apology.

At the end of February I gained a new follower called David Coleman. I thought it was the same Daivid Colman made famous for his balls. But it wasn't, it was Mr D Coleman, retired school master and (as it turns out) an excellent follower - I wouldn't swap Mr Coleman for the famous one, with or without his balls.

I was wrong. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. It was a case of mistaken identity. I corrected my mistake as soon as Mr Coleman pointed it out in the comments section of the blog (as indeed, I promise to do in the blog disclaimer at the bottom of the blog).

Anyway, yesterday I posted that my latest follower Cathy must be friends with popstar Will Young because he's in her blog's photo.

I popped the news up on Twitter and it didn't take long for it to spread like wild fire. A Will Young fan forum was soon on the case, only it wasn't good news - here's what was posted:

Originally Posted by angelique
bit confused by this!lol

just got a twitter thingy....

Will Young the popstar reads my blog, http:barrynewsdesk.blogspot.com - HOW COOL IS THAT???

so of course went and had a peek....

is barry saying the guy in the pic with the girl doing the 'v's up is will?! cause if he is saying that..then he's wrong! lol...thats no will young :-)

Well, quite a few people came through from the forum for a look, and the overwhelming opinion suggested that I was wrong...

Then Mess dropped by and commented that he too thought I might be wrong....jeesh, Rodney you plonker!! ;-)

Then....get this, the one person who was bound to know whether or not it was Will Young Twittered about it......well, not the one person actually, because Will Young would probably know, no, the person who Twittered about it was @samtring - the man in the photo...(pictured above).

Here's what he Tweeted:

samtringAccording to @barrynewsdesk - I look like Will young, apparently - http://barrynewsdesk.blogsp... [sorry to shatter the illusion]

Then I Tweeted:

@samtring Gosh - Sorry Samtring - I will have to post an apology. Unless you really are Will and this is a cunning ruse...

And he Tweeted back:

samtring@barrynewsdesk I wish I was - sadly i lack the talent and the money! no apology needed it's flattering more than anything.

Well, I think that's pretty conclusive readers. The man in the photo on Cathy's blog isn't Will Young. He's Sam Tring. He's a top bloke I reckon, Cathy's clearly a lucky girl to have found such a nice boyfriend.

Blimey readers, the power of the Internet. I never would have imagined when I started out on my quest to become a Citizen Journalist that I would have met such a great bunch. Just a few months ago I'd never even heard of Twitter and now look at me!!! I'm like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix.

Maybe I should get one of the Nokia phones with a slide out mouthpiece. I reckon that'd be pretty cool.

night, night Newsdesk out.x

Where there's a Will...

Met up with Gill earlier today. I said I'd stand her a PizzaExpress, I thought things might get nasty, especially after reading her comments on the blog. I'm not a coward by the way Gill, I know you're a big fan of the Sloppy Giuseppe. Who isn't? Although, sometimes an American Hot can be quite tasty.

We didn't go in the end, she just wanted to meet up to give me back my Coldplay album and pick up the kettle that her mum gave us. Well, her, but she already has one. So we just met up at East Croydon train station. She'd had her hair done, and it might have been my imagination but I could swear she'd shed a few pounds. Not that she needed to, curves are always nice.

She barely spoke to me, even knocked back my offer of a Costa Coffee. Said she was meeting a 'friend' later for lunch. I ask who but she told me it was none of my business, that she could meet whoever she damn well liked. Then she did that smile, where only half her face goes up, I think it's supposed to say 'so there!' but actually is says 'I resemble a bell's palsy suffering spiteful bitch'.

Anyway, I won't lie to you readers, I was hurt. I'd told her all about Amber, I think if we're going to be grown up about the split, she could at least tell me who she's meeting for lunch!!

Earlier in the day I had planned to pen my invitation to a virtual web party, as suggested (on the comments section of the last post) by my excellent follower Mr Coleman the retired teacher. But I was in right funk. Well, I was until I logged on and had a closer look at the photo of my latest follower Cathy's blog (shown below), Booze, Shoes and Tattoos.

OMG readers!! Actually, no not OMG. I mean OYG - Oh YOUR God - because i'm being more inclusive as a result of all my religious studies.

Anyway, OYG readers!!!

I've only just noticed that Cathy, my new follower, fraternises with the rich and famous. Because, if I'm not very much mistaken, that fellow in the photo with her (see below) is international pop superstar Will Young!!

I'm not one of those people who thinks that Will Young is a talentless idiot with an unremarkable voice and a penchant for slaughtering perfectly good Doors songs. I think he's brilliant, and he seems like a nice bloke.

Anyway, check me out, readers. I have a follower who's friends with a pop star. Just imagine if Will started following my blog too. That would be awesome!!

I hope you enjoyed the sunshine today everybodypeeps!!

ND out.

Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine…

Not just a feature of the worst Beatles song ever (the White Album? Come on Paul, Ringo George and John, you could have done better than that. After all, you wrote Love Me Do) but now the number of my newest follower. Welcome Cathy!

'Booze, shoes and tattoos' sounds like the blog of a hell’s angel with a foot fetish. But it isn’t, readers, it’s the blog of ‘Cathy’ my latest follower. Six foot three and 16 stone, bald, with bushy whiskers and a huge beer belly, that’s what your average Hell’s Angel looks like. Cathy, on the other hand, well it’s difficult to tell exactly what she looks like. But she’s flicking the V at the camera in her profile picture so we can assume that she’s a bit feisty.

We can also assume that she has tattoos and shoes and that she likes booze. The final assumption is more than borne out by her blog. She appears to drink a lot. Stella, in particular. Now you know me, readers, I’m pretty up to the minute with my views about things like womens’ lib. Like on the tube, I never give up my seat to a woman, because it’s condescending. If they ask, then that’s fine. They can have it. Especially if they’re pregnant, for example. Or crying.

Speaking of which, the other day I saw an advert on the tube for something called a Mooncup. This, it turns out, is an alternative to tampons or sanitary towels. At school these were called ‘mice’ and ‘crash-mats’ by the girls. Anyway, the mooncup is a flexible rubber cone that the woman pops up her unmentionable when she’s a maiden of the moon. It works on the same principle as when you have a leak in the roof and you put a bucket underneath it.

Anyway apparently it’s more ecological than the alternatives because it’s re-usable and I understand that it’s more comfortable too. As with the bucket, though, you just have to remember to empty it.

Sticking on the tube for a minute, I saw a woman with a badge on the tube the other day. The badge said “I’m pregnant, not fat”. I don’t know about you, readers, but I thought this woman was being harsh to people who are overweight. That’s prejudice all on its own. Who does she think she is? Some fat people might need a seat. It might be their glands, for example. Like my cat, Matthew. So I didn’t give her my seat. She could have dropped her kid right in front of me for all I cared, and I wouldn’t have moved. You SHOULDN’T be fat-ist. I felt like saying to her: “You’re ugly, too.” She had a hell of a hooter on her, I’ll tell you that much.

Anyway, like I was saying, I’m right up there with womens’ lib but I do believe in traditional things here and there. Like girls drinking pints of Stella? Do you have to? Couldn’t you just have a bottle, or a half? Or a glass of medium white wine? It’s just more ladylike, that’s all. I’m not saying you can’t play football, or be one of the police that’s allowed to carry a gun, or even be prime minister if you really want to. But do you really have to drink pints?

Anyway, I was supposed to be welcoming Cathy, who works in PR. That’s Press Relations. I have my first professional press relations lady following my citizen journalism blog. Tiny steps, readers, tiny steps.

A new leaf

What a beautiful day it’s been today, readers. Not a cloud in the sky, the sun shining brightly. You can see with such clarity on a day like today. Such perspective. The first leaves are on the trees on my road. God, spring is such an energetic time, don’t you think? All that life bursting through. And that’s kind of how I’m feeling today.

I’ve got so much life in me, I feel energised. I feel like shouting: "I AM ALIVE!!!"

Obviously I feel quite sad about the end of things with Gill. After all, we were together for quite a few years. And there was a time when we talked about marriage and kids and stuff. But these things happen. You can’t just settle for things in this life, because you only get one chance. Unless you’re a Hindu, I suppose, and you believe in reincarnation. Reincarnation is part of Buddhism as well but, to be honest, I don’t really buy it. I’m more into just the whole, you know, calmness of the whole thing.

Anyway, so this chapter of my life is drawing to a close and I suppose I do feel a certain, sweet pang of tristesse for the whole affair. Gill said some stuff when we spoke about how she waited all this time for me to grow up and that she doesn’t even know if she’s going to be able to have kids now, because she doesn’t feel she can get into another relationship in the next couple of years. Then she called me pathetic and made some comments about one of the branch managers at her estate agents who asked her out at the Christmas party a few years back and she should have gone because he was kind and he had a BMW.

I let her have her anger (thanks Buddha!). But then I told her she was being unduly negative. First off, sure she’s 38 but I read the other day about a woman in India who had her first child at 70-years old. So technically Gill could have another 32 years to meet Mr Right and start popping them out.

Second, who’s to say she’s not going to get into another relationship soon. What would be so wrong with that? There’s no set amount of time you’re supposed to wait in these situations. You’ve got to follow your heart. She’s not bad looking for her age, especially when she wears that purple dress – I told her all this and I’m pretty sure she found it helpful. I also told her that Dave, my roofer mate, has always had a bit of a thing for her and suggested – gently of course – that I could ask that he calls her.

She said Dave was a chauvinist. I got a bit cross with her about that. He does have some strong views and they’re not to everybody’s tastes. But it’s part of his background. And he’s always been a good friend to me.

We were on the phone for ages, almost 20 minutes, and I thought at this point that it would be a good idea to disengage. I mean she can’t keep relying on me as her sounding board any more. She has to move on, to learn to be independent. I told her this and she started laughing. She said I didn’t understand anything about her or about life. She was really laughing quite hard. So I told her it was alright to cry, she shouldn’t feel like she has to pretend.

She said she didn’t feel like crying, she felt like punching me in the face because I’m such a ridiculous little child. Then she said she was stupid herself for trying to base a relationship on pity and maternal instinct, that she shouldn’t have allowed herself to be forced into the role of surrogate mother.

I told her to lay off my Mum, going on about that stuff. She said my Mum was going round there later for dinner.

My Mum’s so kind to people, that’s what makes her special. But I felt a bit funny that she was going round to Gill’s. But I decided to enjoy my first new night of freedom by going to the pub to see if Amber might be there. I felt like a chat about my feelings, having listened to all of Gill’s and been there for her.

Amber wasn’t there, though, and her phone was going to voicemail. Hey ho, there’s always tomorrow; the SECOND day of the rest of my life!!!