I Feel The Pain.

I just finished watching Hot Rod. I have no idea why it failed in America because it is amazing. I chuckle like Frank Bruno through it every time.

It got me thinking about how funny it is to see someone hurt themselves, it is a sadistic part of human nature that everyone accepts. And I like it as well. Imagine a childhood of watching your brother smack himself in the face with a gulf club, blood spurting everywhere, and not laughing. It doesn't bare thinking about.

The worst point is when someone hurts themselves, badly, and you don't realise. I did this recently. I think I was hated from then on. Unfortunately I was surrounded by people that didn't really know me. They all just stared at me, while a full on cackle burst out of my laughter filled face. I made my excuses and left.

How come the funny bone gets the name (yes I know about the humorous bone)? It's funny for the injured to hit their elbow but for the witnesses the hinge joint is a terrible comedian. It is like The Katherine Tate Show of the injury comedy circuit. Rubbish.

It isn't the only thing that makes you laugh. It is far more funny to see an old lady get hit in the face with a ball (not too hard and/or too old) than it is to see her bang her elbow gently against a goalpost. Although you would question why is she playing in goal at 90.

I am now off to watch the World Cup draw. It's very exciting. I actually hope we get Portugal. I think it would be a good game and I really have my doubts about our chances to win. England may as well play the tough games early on, to really see if we have a chance. And hopefully it will quickly stop our tabloids getting everyone's ridiculous optimism up for it to be dashed by Brazil or Spain.

I would post about Mr Potato Head on my TV which is freaking me out but i haven't got time. It will have to wait until tomorrow.

A Day Of Waste.

I sat at my computer for 6 hours yesterday. I started with such great intentions.

I was trying to write a sketch. It went downhill from there. The idea I came up with was an ingenious one. Or so I thought. The more I worked on it the more obvious it became that it just wasn't going to work.

The idea was simple- A fairytale love story between Natalie Portman and David Bowie. Based in Great Yarmouth. The person reading it was going to fall in love with Portman and become insanely jealous of Bowie, all in front of a class of children. Why the hell did I think it would work? My celebrity obsessions need to stop.

They won't.

I watched Juno the other day. I am now obsessed with Ellen Page again. I found this piece of information about her.

Page: "When I was a kid I just played with action figures and climbed trees"

Ellen Page likes climbing trees! Maybe she will, one day, type into google "5 step guide on how to find the best climbing tree" and she will come across my previous post. The only draw back would be if she then came across this post. I am sure she would find it flattering...

I came up with a Juno related joke the other day. I am going to send it into Adam and Joe, I am pretty sure they will not read it out. Here it is:-

How do you ask if someone is acquainted with your teenage pregnant trump?

do-you-know M'Guff? (Sounds like Juno MacGuff).

Good hey? Came up with it all by myself.

Fairly brief post today, maybe I might be able to do a good one tomorrow.

PS. My room is messy.

The Shifty Incident Of The Cowboy In The Tidy Bedroom.

I haven't written my blog for a while. I blame it on the fact I never had a desk. Good excuse huh? Well, annoyingly I seem to now have a desk that I am currently sitting at.

I no longer have a terrible, lazy infested, excuse.

I have a tidy room at the moment, which is very exciting. I feel like I am a character of a soap. It has always annoyed me that the kids in Neighbours never had messy rooms. I don't know how to keep things tidy so not sure how long it will last. I have my fingers crossed for at least half an hour.

I have never liked having a tidy room before because I just have a feeling there is a direct correlation between tidy people and evil dictators. Can you imagine Saddam (We are on first name terms) or Hitler having a messy room? Me neither.

I bet Gandhi's was a right tip! I hope I don't turn evil. I'll keep an eye out for strange behaviour.

The one frustrating thing with Blogspot is that it doesn't auto-correct lower case I's. The laborious task of holding 'shift' when typing a single letter is surprisingly frustrating. A psychologist on Big Brother (The programme, my older sibling doesn't have Freud constantly on his shoulders) said that if you write 'I' in lower case it means you lack confidence and self identity.

I think it is because I don't like pressing the 'shift' button.

Also, why is it called the shift button? You don't move anything with it. At best you shift it to upper case, but that can't be it? No, I have decided. I am going to re-name it to 'The make it a self-indulgent I' Button. Far more catchy. I bet Jeremy Clarkson never puts a lower case I.

A story to cheer everyone up - I found out today that my housemate had a hamster called Cowboy when she was younger. She put a cowboy hat on it for the last couple of months of it's life. Then she, quite dramatically, admitted "I think this is the reason he committed suicide".

I had no response. I don't think it needed one. The more I think about a hamster wearing a cowboy hat, the better the world seems.

R.I.P Cowboy, your legend lives on.

The Ladies

I love the train. I have been away this weekend which involves multiple public transport trips. Most people find public transport an horrific way to travel. If you keep your eyes open it is one of the best places in the world. There are so many characters I have met in the past, and once again it has been no different. Although it wasn't exactly fun at the time.

Traveling up to Norwich on a Saturday morning, sun shining, I had to take a seat on the train that was still stationary at Cambridge (my trip from London to Cambridge was surprisingly, completely uneventful). It was one with the table so I had to face two strangers for 2 hours. You can’t even split it up so it is an hour on each, it is always both of them, just staring at you. I know i always have to be perfect with my decision, otherwise it can be painful. I sat down and I realised I had made an impressive choice. I am sitting next to a female that, so rare for trains, smells amazing. Opposite is an attractive lady as well! I have never known for a day to start so well. The train moves away and I feel almost proud of my life.

We pull up to the next station and disaster. A boy sits in the other seat opposite. Normally not a terrible scenario but he has something in his hand. It chills me to the bone. It is a glossy magazine. It’s ‘Nuts’. It is probably the most grotesque magazine in the world. It is not even for any feminist reasons either. My main hatred for this is the fact it believes Jeremy Clarkson is a legend. What a horrific person to celebrate.

I never really like personal attacks but I do find his beliefs astonishing. They seem nationalist, and definitely anti foreign things. I don’t really like nationalists, they can seem to breed hatred towards other countries and cultures. I love thinking of our country slowly coming round to terms with us being European. I love many things English, but there is a real feeling of an Island about this country still. We are happy to exclude ourselves in the International playground from the other countries. We need to play more. You never know, we may even have some fun. Anyway, back to Clarkson. He seems so old fashioned yet so many of my generation love him.

Arrogance is an ugly trait, and he would probably be even proud to say he is. One of my highlights of TV recently was when Michael Macintyre mocked him on ‘Have I got news for you’. You can watch his almost surprise at the fact someone has decided to go against him. He has outlandish beliefs about politics, especially our own government. I would love to see an interview between him and an intellectual. I am pretty sure if Will Self, or someone similar, spoke to Clarkson his arguments would not stand up to any probing. A person who states the country does not need a Houses of Parliament is not fit to be on the BBC.

I seem to have gone off topic. Right, back to the train.

The boy sits down and puts his head phones in and begins to read his magazine. He opens it up and the lady opposite me glances over to see what he is reading. Two nipples stare back at her. I wish I could have recorded it because now it is very amusing. I can’t really deal with awkward scenarios at all and so I really wanted to run away. The woman looked horrified. She instantly put her back towards him. I then realised the girl next to me had noticed the magazine as well. She was tutting profusely. Every time he turned a page and boobs were there, in full glory, a humongous tut would come bounding out from my left. At this point the humour of the situation did hit me. He was wearing head phones, there was no chance he was hearing the noise emanating from the woman’s anger.

I let a sly smile appear on my face while he turned over the page and there he was. Staring at me, so arrogantly. Jubblies were obviously at the center spot of the page but I could still see him in the corner. It was Clarkson. Before I could see what rubbish he was saying I noticed something even worse. I look to the pretty girl opposite me and she is giving me the evils! I can’t believe it. Apparently, it isn’t obvious to an onlooker that someone staring at a page spread of lady glands with a sly grin is actually looking on in disgust at Clarkson in the corner. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even dare look to my left but I felt the woman change her seating stance so I knew her back towards me. How did this happen! All the anger was no longer aimed towards the boy, it was now at me. I was on there side! Don’t get me wrong, I love the lady lumps. However, I don’t understand how Nuts, Zoo or The Sun have made it perfectly fine to look at them with confidence in public as long as you can’t see her… garden.

The next half an hour was so painful until they got off at the next station. There was no talking, just the boy slowyly turning over the page with a tut come with each one. When they left the boy stayed so it was just me and him. There is more to follow on this but I think it is a post worth on its own so i will leave it there for today.

Celebration Time!

I have a new cousin! It's all very exciting. I spoke to her for the first time today on the phone. I say spoke. I didn't really get the chance to say anything. We have a right little chatter box in the family. One to rival my sister. That really is saying something! She seemed ever so sweet, telling me, in no uncertain terms that I will not like her pony because it is pink. Boys don't like pink! I can't wait to meet her. I will probably see her as more of a niece than a cousin, but it is so nice to see another member of the family join us. I will make sure she grows up to be a rascal. What else are big cousins for?

I went to auditions today. They weren't singing my song but it was so funny to go and watch. I love the thought of having a whole production singing one of my songs. It has given me a real drive to write even sillier lyrics into my next song. I have a few lines for it but now seeing them sing I have a better notion of what can work.

I have noticed that I haven't written this blog regularly this weekend. However, I am comfortable to say it is with good reason. I was too busy having a ruddy good time. Saturday I woke up and went to, the always fantastic, Victoria park and sat there for roughly 5 hours I believe. I then went to the pub followed by making fudge/toffee round my friends. Sunday was spent sleeping, pub (liverpool won so Craig was chuffed) and then a roast. I haven't felt so relaxed in yonks.

Sunday evening was irritating though because I suddenly started feeling nervous about something. As if I was worried Hook was going to kidnap my kids. It wasn't this though. I don't have kids. And to be honest I am suspecting Hook is not real as well. Realisations like this really upset me, knowing that there is no Neverland. It is something no one should ever have to comprehend. Although Michael Jackson never stopped believing. So maybe I did make the right decision.

I never did work out why I was nervous. It is a strange feeling when you have no idea why. Brains are stupid. What a sentence that is. 'Brains are stupid.' I hope I don't die and out of everything I have ever done, which isn't much, they decide to say - James Purdy passed away this week. He was most famous for stating that "Brains are stupid". Good riddance say all of the scientific world. Including his Dad.

Computer Games And Real Life

For the last two nights I have played Resident Evil 5 for a few hours. I love co-operative games. I find games become tiresome quickly without having a wing man by your side, shooting the disease ridden folk trying to attack you. It amazes me how quickly you can find yourself completely absorbed by a game from the real world even though you have your friend sitting right next to you, Shouting "top left, you take the one on the right".

The book 'The Beach' has a part in it that sums this up perfectly, better than I could possibly do. Alex Garland, apart from all the money, you have this over me as well. Are you happy? There is a point in the book where Richard has a theory, that, how people react in death in a computer game is how they will react with their death in real life. Some will be fighters till the end, some screamers, and some that simply give up. I am definitely more of a sulky person, with flashes of shouting. It is so weird however, because I never really find myself getting angry in real life, apart from playing games and football. They are my two weaknesses. That is why Achilles was so impressive, he only had one. No wonder he was a mythical God. I bet he could even turn down a free Double Decker. Achilles, you are a bloody legend.

I find myself living like I am in a computer game. I have only started realising recently. I think most people are like this. Whenever I speak to a smoker they always ask me "what do you think about when you aren't doing anything" because their thought is when can they get their next cigarette. And, for the first time, I finally have a truthful answer. Before my answer was an intelligent "I don't know". Now, I have started setting imaginary tests for myself. As soon as I walk into a room I always look round to see what the quickest way to get to the other door is. Whether it would be best to jump over a desk, or slide under like Indiana Jones.

The thing I think about most though is climbing. I was sitting in the park today and I was just eying up all four sides of the square. Which one would be the hardest to get over, and what part is the easiest of each side as well? I have always been fascinated by jumping and climbing, I find most boys are. If you ask most males under 90 "what is the first thing you look for when walking into a park?" The answer will be "The best climbing tree". It is such a difficult choice to pick out the ultimatum tree. These are my main requirements:-

1) Lowest Branch height. It has to be within reachable distance, but cannot be too low. Where is the challenge in a non-jump start?

2) Location. It can't be over a path. There is nothing worse than someone walking past making snide remarks about breaking the tree. Also, falling onto a path rather than grass is bad.

3) Solidity of tree. It has to have thick branches. This is a must. Too many trees look perfect then two branches up and they are all snapable.

4) Thin on Leaves. Nothing worse than climbing up a tree that has a highly concentrated leaf to branch ratio. Takes all the fun out of it.

5) Quality of Bark. Such an underestimated attribute of a climbing tree. If the bark is too brittle then it is almost impossible to climb quickly. Also you get green hands.

These are my main things that I will take into consideration first when looking for trees. I think they are fairly general requirements to be honest, but good to have documented never the less. I am excited to read this back in 5 years time to see if experience has taught me anything else to look out for. You learn so much about climbing trees when younger, it will be interesting to see whether I slowly change my opinion over time, while I'm moving away from my fast disappearing youth. I am going to the park this weekend and thinking about this has made me so excited. I am hoping to go to Victoria Park both days, I hope the weather holds out for me, otherwise I fear I may cry. Long live the Sun! (not the newspaper)

St Patrick's Day

It annoys me every year that I succumb to the corporate creation that is 'St Paddy's Day'. The Guinness company must be loving it right now. If you are wondering yes, I am typing this slightly on the drunk side. At least I have the excuse that I am part Irish.

Actually, scrap that. That is still no excuse.

Why the hell do the majority of English people find themselves to be obliged to get drunk on the black stuff. It is just bizarre. Don't get me wrong, I am quite happy to have a pint of Guinness, but I am so annoyed that I did it on a day that you feel you are meant to, not because I wanted to.

I wonder what real Irish people think about seeing drunk English men walking down the street singing, with massive comedy sized Lepricorn hats on. I am sure they must be proud. I was drunk tonight, but they still really did annoy me and so the Irish must be shaking with anger. According to this "sacred" day, the Irish supposedly drink so much Guinness, they probably are just shaking through alcohol rather than anger actually thinking about it.

Anyway, I didn't go out specifically for this Irish event, so I didn't completely fall for it. I went out to see my friend before she goes off to travel for the year, if not longer. I am incredibly jealous of her. She is going out to the east. I have only been to Japan, but gosh darn it, didn't I love it. Tonight there was also someone out that has just ventured into getting a mortgage. If I wanted to pick which life I wanted, I know which one I would choose.

I will probably decide to delete this tomorrow because it is alcohol fueled drivel, but it would be nice if it made some sense in the morning. I like this writing before going to bed palaver that I decided I would put myself through, because now I look so much forward to writing it. At least I know I have done something with my day rather than nothing.

I tried writing the song last night for the musical, it didn't go so well for me. It is so difficult writing a song when it is too late to either sing it out loud, or play an instrument to get a tune. Eventually it may work however. I hope so because it is something I love working towards.

For lunch today I had a double decker, for the first time since I was probably about ten. I was never really that bothered by them when I was younger but today, I have realised I was living an unfulfilled life until 1.30pm on the 17th of march 2009. It was gorgeous. I can't believe I never thought about them until today. There is one thing certain about tomorrow and that is James Purdy is having a Double Decker for his afters at lunch.

Little Old Lady

Walking back from Tesco, Danish Pastry in bag, I came across the old lady that lives in my block of flats, trying to get up the stairs with a trolley that was at least the size of her. This is no exaggeration. It wasn't a massive trolley, it was just that she was tiny. I think in her prime she probably played a Jawa in Star Wars.

I did the polite thing and offered to carry her trolley and she was genuinely thankful. I like it when people react by showing mass happiness or relief, rather than them just expecting you to stab them. Bloody Daily Mail.

It was all going perfectly, I was being polite, she ecstatic with not having to kill herself carrying this monstrosity (her world scale) up the stairs. It was just like an episode of Poldark. Yes I am Ross Poldark.

Suddenly the old bugger had to go and ruin it didn't she.

I am half way up the stairs when I hear the sentence "you lot get a load of stick, but I think you aren't all bad" pass her lips. I was at first not quite sure how to take it. You lot? I let the remark go and presumed she meant us, the youth. But then she carried on.

"They run you lot down don't they. I don't think you are that bad though, not as bad as our young generation. You lot are much more polite." It suddenly dawns on me that she believes I am a good ol' foreigner. I didn't really know what to say. Should I say "Sorry, I am in fact one of those pesky English kids". In the end I left it and now the woman thinks there is "one of them" in her block of flats.

I wondered later about what nationality she thinks I am. I have a fairly English accent so she must have gone for looks. That just leaves all the countries where they have dark hair. That narrows it down then. I like to think Spanish. Although my gut says otherwise.

It is such a shame the older generation use terms such as "them" or "you lot". I am fortunate to work in an extremely multi-national environment, and I am so much better for it. People my age still think like this old lady, hopefully in time it will become something of the past and, in the future, grouped with witch burnings in the Lunacy-o-meter.

Thinking about what she is saying comes over as nasty but she is genuinely trying to be nice. She is defending migrants, but just in a very racist way. At least the older generation have an excuse. A lot of people in the past were brought up with never meeting people with different nationalities to their own until recently. My generation don't have this excuse. Complete stupidity is theirs.

A Sandwich and Wrestling

I went out last night to see Elbow at Wembley Arena. It was great. Now it is the morning after I had a few too many, now all I crave for is a bacon and Philadelphia sandwich.

When visiting my friend Emily in Norwich it almost became a tradition that every morning after a night out a Bacon and Philadelphia sandwich was what we created (it was a masterpiece, so was definitely created rather than simply made) and then ate with great smiles upon our dehydrated faces.

I wish I could be bothered to do this now. I still have a shop and bakers close so all the ingredients are there. When living by yourself however you can't really be bothered to go out of your way simply for yourself. Eating is such a social occasion. When cooking for myself I never really do more than something with bread or cereal and I still find this a genuine chore. I have also realised that it was mainly Emily that did all the making and I simply did the fetching. I hope this is the only scenario where I come out sounding like someones pet.

I have to write a song today or Lauren will kill me. It is all a bit weird but on Tuesday I will be going to watch 60 people workshop a bizarre song I wrote when drunk and now I have to write another one. I am quite looking forward to it, there is nothing better than writing something you know has the possibility that it will be used or performed. I have never really written a musical before. It is a lot different to writing normal songs or sketches. It is a fun test. I now think much more about the actions that could go with the lyrics rather than just the childish words.

I look forward to this Sunday because I don't have anything more planned than a trip to the supermarket, writing a song and probably catching up on my computer game playing. My phone has run out of battery so the likelihood of someone getting hold of me is Zero. Before mobiles I use to pop over to peoples houses, not knowing if they were in or not. If they weren't I would just carry on to another's until i finally found someone to play wrestling. I was always 'The Thunder and Lightning Kid'. My finisher was 'The SunSet Flip'. Only one person has ever kicked out of this destructive move.

Now however, if you cannot get hold of them on their phone then they are out of bounds. You do not trespass on their day. I don't want to blame it on the technology, or the weatherman, but I wonder if it is the constant 24hr mobile connection that has caused this or whether it is just because we have grown up, we now think other people have more important things to do. All I want is for someone to pop over and ask "Have you got your elbow pads ready". Surely everything can wait for that?

Sir David

I just watched David Attenborough's latest animal program. This was after watching back to back hour episodes of an Orangutan in a nappy that was put back into the big wide foresty world. And I bloomin' loved it.

Animal shows are so amazingly relaxing. I could watch them for hours. I don't even think I need to be interested in them. It could be about a turtle with depression and I would still love every second of it. But why is this? With the current soaps, reality TV, dramas and comedy series broadcast on British TV I find my lack of interest startling. However, as soon as there is a frog in a sling I am instantly gripped to the colour box in the corner of the living room.

I like to think Big Brother would get all of its viewers back if the housemates actions had running commentary from Attenborough. Imagine his voice describing the moment Jade Goody did terrible things to PJ under those now soiled sheets. I won't even attempt to guess the wording, I can't possibly do the dialog justice. Animal programs are always shot with such thought, it is easy to lose yourself in the pictures, let alone the story of the poor one eared helpless Hippo. Poor poor Hippo. If only all TV shows had so much thought, talent, and budget put into them.

Anyway, I didn't really do much today apart from watch these wonderful documentaries. I wandered home earlyish today (I don't seem to spend much time at home in my new place) and so got to spend an evening in my flat to do exactly what I like, which is not much at all. I love the Bethnal Green area at the moment but i have to move out of this place in three months, I have no desire to move to any other area so I will stay in the east of London for sho' (To future self - When reading this back please don't think you ever said 'For Sho' seriously). I hope this blog is still going when I have to move because it is genuinely fun and not at all a laborious task as I thought it may become.

I have football tomorrow so I have to pack my £2.99 shin pads in my bag now. Good luck for tomorrow James.

Spelling Malarky

I have impressed myself beyond belief. I am writing the second blog and it is only the second day. This won't last long but it is a good start. I am enjoying it though, I have been thinking all day about this blog. What can i put in it? What shall i say? And nothing of note really came up.

I have, however, been questioning the point of silent letters. The only reason I can see in them is to catch out less educated people with their spelling. These less educated people includes me by the way. I started thinking about this due to finding out recently that the winged dinosaur is spelt 'Pterodactyl'. Seriously, what is the point of this P at the beginning?

Factually the P is there simply because the name derives from the Greek word Ptero, which literally means wing, but this still doesn't make any sense to me. We simply do not pronounce the P. And also what were the bloody Greeks doing putting a P before a T, they must have been mental. I wonder if the Greeks pronounced the P? I need to stop thinking about the Greeks now because it has all become a mess in my mind.

I love literacy but things like this seem to carry on the snobbery surrounding language. Why should people know there is a letter in a word if when reading it out loud you can't sodding hear it? Saying this i still very much detest text shorthand. Seeing a number eight within a word is horrific. I don't want to sound like a word snob though, because i am not. I hate reading on message boards etc. mocking other contributers about their spelling. Mis-spelling is fine, laziness to put a '2' instead of 'to', is not.

I will stop there though. I don't want to start sounding like my Granddad, who would have written a libraries worth on this. I can guarantee it.

I am going to go now and play a computer game. I had hopes the same as Richard Herring did when starting this internet word scribble, to try and use a blog to set me up to do writing afterwards, and like him, I am already finding this blog is the only writing i do.

The First, Hopefully Not The Last.

I fear this may very well be my only entry. I have always been lazy. In fact, I am quite positive my friends would volunteer to be part of the prosecution if i ever tried to defend myself in court on my sloth like nature. However, i have finally signed up to this blogland and i will try my utmost to carry this on.

I have started this Bloggy Blog because i have realised that so many things in my life pass me by without taking time to remember it. I moved to London because i wanted a better life, a more enjoyable life, one that isn't just sitting at home or going to the one pub in the area where everyone knows each other.

My life has moved on well in that respect, but also i still don't think i am seeing all that's on offer in the Capital. I need to... how can i put it... do more Stuff. But then again, is that what i really want to do? One of my favourite things to do is to do nothing. Maybe this guilt is just because i feel i should be doing these things, not because i want to.

There are inevitably pros and cons to living in London. There are lots of fun things, often free as well, but i really do miss my close friends from home and Uni that i have known for years. It is difficult making close friends in London. Nearly all my friends that i meet up with at the weekend are people i already knew before, except for a few. This seems to be the norm however, which i find bizarre.

Writing a blog has surprised me already, and i am only four uninteresting paragraphs in. I am, at the moment, probably the happiest i have been for a few years yet somehow this blog has become negative. My mood is good, my thoughts fairly positive yet all i seem to have done is moan. Quite peculiar.

My life over the last couple of years has, i suppose, taken a massive upheaval. From Uni to work, anyone that has taken this step knows how unprepared you are for it. I used to be someone that worked towards the future, whereas now i seem to be much more "for the moment".

This will probably be the only deep poppycock that i write in this blog. My next, if there is one, will be more likely to be about something silly and pointless rather than this self indulgent tripe.

Bye