Download today’s audio Dollop here

Download today’s audio Dollop here

Download today’s audio Dollop here

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

I am pleased to report that today I received my first ever Dollop-based heckle. The first question at our Chance To Meet Young’uns event was, “How long have you been without eyes?” Ideally the entire hour would have been taken up with dollop-based questions, and the other two would just have to stand there awkwardly, while I answered question after question about the Dollops, take requests for the French Potato Potarto song, and answer people’s queries like, “was the water feature man genuinely real or a very talented actor playing an incredibly written character?” But on this occasion, it was just the one dollop-based question; still, it’s a start.

Yesterday I was chatting to a fellow accordionist, who told me that he had also booked a seat for his instrument. When I was at the airport and doing the bit where you have to go through security and get your carry-on luggage checked, they seemed very interested in and uncertain about my Accordion, and they spent a good few minutes scanning it, with more and more staff joining in the inspection. But eventually it got OKayed. However, the person I was talking to yesterday said that they were interrogated for quite awhile about what it was, and then made him play it to prove that it was a musical instrument. So he stood in a busy airport, and played his accordion in front of

an assemblage of serious-looking security staff. Fortunately his performance passed muster and he was cleared to go through with his accordion.

I appreciate that nowadays airport security has to be extra vigilant, but it seems very unlikely that a terrorist would go for an accordion as their weapon of choice. But I might be wrong, and maybe there have been a number of occasions where terrorists posing as accordionists have been thwarted by being asked to play the instrument. Not being a terrorist, I have no idea how effective an accordion would be for housing explosives, but it may be that the accordion can be turned into the perfect weapon of destruction, and airport security are starting to cotton onto this, hence the reason for them getting accordionists to play, to prove their musical credentials and thus prove themselves to not have terroristic motives.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before a terrorist organisation pays for one of their members to have accordion lessons. With a bit of luck though this plan will backfire, and the terrorist will enjoy learning the accordion so much that he begins to find himself becoming more and more disenfranchised with the terrorist group, as he discovers a new sense of purpose and makes new friends in the folk world. However, the terrorist group have paid for the accordion and the lessons, and they are starting to ask questions about how his lessons are going and when he will be ready. Meanwhile, the terrorist has started playing the accordion for a local morris dance group and is now well and truly a part of the folk community. He is now completely uninterested in bringing death to the western world, having completely transitioned from Islamic extremist to prominent figure in his local folk community. All he wants to do is play folk music and drink real ale at his local folk club and various festivals and village fates. But he doesn’t have the courage to tell the terrorist organisation, who are mounting pressure on him to exercise their strategy. Then one night, he gets very drunk and in desperation, confides to his Morris team, who then take it upon themselves to try and come up with a plan to get him out of his predicament.

I think this scenario would make for a great film, all about what happens when a group of local Morris dancers and folk singers take on a bunch of Islamic extremists, and try and thwart a terrorist plot. It’ll have everything, this film: an action packed dark comic drama including lots of violence, guns, explosions, espionage, dramatic car chases … and morris dancing. What’s not to like?

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Fortunately the unpunctual, chatty taxi driver got to the station in time for me to catch the 911 train to Manchester Airport. What a cliffhanger that was. I hope the anticipation didn’t keep you awake all last night.

I am writing today’s Dollop from a hotel bedroom in Portugal, where we are playing a festival. Obviously I mean the festival is in Portugal, rather than taking place in a hotel bedroom, just in case you were confused and misunderstood that sentence. Having a festival in a hotel bedroom would be a ridiculously impractical idea. I’m sorry, it’s far too hot to be funny. I’m sweating like a pig, although I’ve never actually observed a pig sweating, which I want to make very clear, because I know there was that rumour going around, but it was never proven in court, so just remember that, OK? Anyway, I digress, the basic point that I was trying to make was that we are in Portugal playing a folk festival.

Tomorrow we are doing a Meet The Artists events, where people get to ask us questions. I wonder if anyone asks me how long I’ve been without eyes. The programmers have, for some reason, dropped the ‘the’ from our name, so rather than the event being called “A Chance To Meet The Young’uns,” it’s advertised as “a chance to meet Young’uns.” Hopefully this hasn’t led to any confusion and no one turns up expecting a paedophiles’ convention, only to end up having to try and think of a question about folk music, in a desperate bid to blend in and not be found out.

On a similar point, a few days ago I was surprised to see in my website stats that someone had clicked onto our website because they had searched for “Young’uns sex.” I wonder what they were hoping to find. Were they after child pornography? Or were they hoping to find images or videos of me, Michael and Sean having sex with each other? If it was the latter, then they wouldn’t have any luck Googling that. No, they’d need to access the dark web to find our sex tape. Or maybe they were wanting a sex video from the other Young’uns, the wedding covers band from Canada.

To avoid a situation like our flight back from Canada, where my accordion got a massive crack in it, the organisers of the festival were kind enough to book seats for our instruments. Their kindness however didn’t stretch to them booking seats for us as well, so we had to sit in the hold while our instruments lived it up in business class. OK, well maybe I was wrong about the effects of the heat on my comic abilities, given that I’ve managed to pull out such a top quality joke there, and it’s 30 degrees Celsius; check me out.

The seats for our instruments weren’t next to where we were sitting. So we had to explain to bemused passengers that they would have a musical instrument sitting next to them, Which caused much amusement amongst everyone, many of whom were very drunk, despite the fact that it was only midday. Michael’s guitar was sharing an isle with some golfers, and my accordion had been given a seat on a row completely occupied by a hen party. So there were a load of drunken girls, with an accordion in between them. They thought this was hilarious, and spent the entire journey making jokes about the accordion, which they laughed at uproariously.

“Eh, shall we get a drink for the accordion?”

“The accordion wants to come out on the town with us tonight.”

“We’ll have to get the Accordion to the wedding.” This was met with shrieks of laughter from the girls. They seemed to very much enjoy the novelty of sharing their isle with a musical instrument. I think we did someone a favour by seating our instruments on the plane, as it meant that no one had to share an isle with a load of very loud and drunk girls.

The golfers also enjoyed joining in with the hen party’s jokes, saying things like, “I wonder what the guitar’s handicap is?” The girls found this hilarious and it wasn’t long before the two groups began flirting. So our musical instruments may be responsible for causing a relationship to occur between one of the hen party girls and one of the golfers.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

I booked a taxi at 820, to take me to Sheffield train station. I assumed that this would be enough time to catch the 911 train to Manchester Airport. I’m sure you’re all getting very excited at the prospect of yet another gripping and dramatic tale about trying to get from Sheffield to Manchester. It was 840 by the time I received an automated phone call informing me that my taxi had arrived. It was 845 by the time my taxi had actually arrived.

My taxi driver was very talkative, and seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that I was very concerned about missing my train, and thus giving me no leeway with my flight. I’m not sure how the driver could be oblivious about my concern, given that I was frantically checking my phone and audibly willing for the National Rail app to report a ten minute delay on the 911. I was sighing, I was cursing, I was constantly checking the time. Yet all the while, the taxi driver attempted to engage me in conversation, seemingly unaware of my plight.

“so, how long have you been without eyes?” I was momentarily sidetracked. Suddenly I became distracted from my worrying about missing a train and a flight. I hadn’t really been concentrating on anything he’d said up until that point, and I had just been giving unconscious mono-tonal responses, endeavouring to still sound polite, even though I was annoyed at the driver being twenty-five minutes late, without an apology from him, and concerned about my flight situation. His jovial garrulousness was already testing my patients and tolerance, but I was just managing to stay on the right side of pleasant. I am rubbish at conflict, but this taxi driver was pushing me to the limit.

But now I’d been shook out of my automatic flat one-word responses to his chattering. At first I was confused by what the heck he was talking about. I started to worry whether he had a drugs problem or something which was causing him to hallucinate. He clearly wasn’t fit to drive. If he thought that I was without eyes, then goodness knows what other crazy things he was seeing on the road. Suddenly a missed flight was the least of my worries. Then I realised that he was asking me how long I’d been blind, but in a very unusual way.

Ordinarily I suppose I’d have instantly got what he was meaning, but I was so flustered that his question confused me. The taxi driver was not English, hence his unusual way of asking his question.

When I first went on tour to Germany, I was approached by a man who tried to ask me about my blindness, but he was unable to find the right words. He tried several ways to ask his question, and the three of us let him struggle on, enjoying his attempts to find the right wording.

“Your eyes … they are … er … having a rest? No, how do you say? Your eyes … they are drunk? No, no, er … How do you say … Er … Your eyes … they are … on vacation?” Eventually I stepped in and answered his question.

Personally, in most cases, I don’t mind complete strangers asking me questions about being blind. I am more than used to it. I am asked such questions probably everyday. However, most people will at least tentatively bring up the subject, and might say something beforehand like, “if you don’t mind me asking …” At least this acknowledges
the fact that I might not want to talk about it. It doesn’t bother me at all, but for people who have just lost their sight, they might feel sensitive about the subject.

A blind friend of mine, who has a similar view to me about being asked this question, had literally just got in the taxi, when the driver immediately said, “so how long have you been like that then?” She instantly knew that he meant “how long have you been blind,” but she was a bit rankled by his tone and manner, and was feeling a little mischievous. So she decided to pretend that she didn’t understand what he was saying, and began to talk about the colour of her hair. The taxi driver tried to but in and explain that he wasn’t referring to her choice of hair colour, but she just continued to prattle on about her hair for the entire journey, not letting him get a word in.

I really liked this way of approaching the situation. It wasn’t confrontational and she wasn’t challenging the driver, however she was challenging his preconceptions. This driver seemed to be working under the assumption that the most salient point about her identity was her blindness, and that naturally she would understand this and immediately know what he meant when he said, “so how long have you been like that then?” By pretending to miscomprehend his question and focusing on her hair, she is attempting to challenge his idea that being blind is the most fundamental aspect of her life. Obviously his question wasn’t meant to be insulting or patronising, but nevertheless, he clearly thought that it was perfectly natural to start a conversation with a complete stranger with, “so how long have you been like that then?” as if my friend was just expected to know that he was eferring to blindness and would be happy to enter into a discussion about it. Hopefully her approach might have made him realise that there was more to her life than merely her blindness.

This kind of questioning by taxi drivers can be especially embarrassing if you are with, for instance, a new girlfriend. I have been on a date with someone, and the taxi driver has immediately started up a conversation about my blindness, and has even said things to my date like, “so are you his carer then?”

I get asked the blindness questions by people so frequently, that I sometimes invent a story, just to keep myself entertained, after all it’s boring saying the same tired thing over and over again. The extent of my fabricated anser all depends on how inventie I’m feeling, or how gullable I think the person who I’m talking to is. And really, what’s the problem? They’re getting an answer to their question, which let’s face it, they don’t know it isn’t true, and I am getting some entertainment by inventing a story, rather than wheeling out the same old boring tale once again. Everyone wins.

I didn’t have the energy or concentration to invent a story, so I answered his questions on autopilot. I knew the format so well that it wasn’t difficult to do, and I already knew the line of questioning before it came.

“How long have you been blind?” “How did it happen?” “Is there nothing they can do to cure it?” and, “It’ll happen one day, they’re making all sorts of medical discoveries nowadays.” That is the basic format.

What happened next shall be relayed to you in tomorrow’s Dollop.

Today’s audio Dollop features another of my childhood compositions. This one involves a beautiful psycho lady with whom I become embroiled in an odd relationship.

Download the drama here

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

A few days ago, I suggested that mobile phones should all have a button on them, which when pressed, plays your ringtone. This would mean that if you found yourself stuck in a conversation with someone that you really wanted to get out of, you could discretely press this button, which would be a raised and reasonably large button for easy and discrete access from within your pocket, and your phone would then ring. You could then be freed from an obligation to talk to the boring person you’ve been lumbered with. Today, I have another feature that I think should be incorporated into all mobile phones.

This idea was inspired by the sound of a phone going off which belonged to the person sitting next to me on the train. If you listen to the audio version of this Dollop, then you will be treated to an impression of this ringtone; for the rest of you, you will have to use your imagination. Very fast and loud techno music filled the carriage, and an MC began some very enthusiastic, high-octane shouting over the boom boom boom booming and whoop whoop whoop whooping. The owner of the phone that was playing this lively loud rave music, gave a weary sigh, and slowly produced the phone out of his pocket, and as he did so the volume increased even further.

“Come on come on come on come on,” yelled the MC. Boom boom boom boom, whoop whoop whoop whoop! The owner of the phone gave another long sigh, cleared his throat and answered.

His “hello” was croaky, flat and world-weary. He was very downbeat and clearly hungover. I could imagine that last night, his mood and energy levels would have matched his raver’s ringtone, and it would have been a more appropriate choice, but it certainly didn’t suit his mood on this particular morning. The contrast between his techno hardcore ringtone and his demeanour was comical. It caused me and a few others nearby to chuckle. His phone call ended with him croaking an unenthusiastic “bye,” before returning his phone to his pocket with another long sigh.

No sooner had he returned the phone to his pocket: “come on come on come on come on,” whoop whoop whoop whoop, boom boom boom boom! He held his head in his hands, gave an exasperated sigh, and then reproduced his phone from his pocket. People were audibly amused by this, and I tried to stifle my chuckles, given that I was sitting next to him, not that this man would have had the requisite energy to challenge my amusement anyway.

This person presumably chose his ringtone when he was in a partying mood. I imagine that he didn’t consider how he might feel the morning after, hungover and on a train full of people. In this environment his ringtone seemed like an absurd choice. I therefore think that phones should come with an option to choose specific ringtones for specific times, so that he can have his raver’s ringtone for a Friday and Saturday night when he’s out clubbing and partying, but have something a little more sedate for a Sunday morning that will compliment his hangover, and will be less embarrassing for him on a packed train. Or maybe this could be a function that is automatically activated, so that the phone is able to consider the time of day and the person’s location, and then surmise that a techno hardcore ringtone would be inadvisable in this particular situation.

My other idea would be to integrate a system that is universally compatible for all phones, whereby the person calling you is able to select an option that will bypass your chosen ringtone and play a more standard, sensible one. This would be useful if you knew that the person you are ringing had a stupid novelty ringtone set, but the news that you had to impart was of a sobering nature. Therefore, you could choose to bypass the novelty ringtone for something more pedestrian, to suit your sobering news. For instance, hospitals and care homes could use this feature by default when calling someone, to avoid a situation where the news of their mother’s death is heralded by the Benny Hill theme or We’re Avin A Gang Bang by Black Lace.

Or maybe a better feature would be a system that, whenever someone downloads an annoying novelty ringtone, they are instantly killed. Notice that I stipulated “instantly,” it wouldn’t be a slow and painful death, I am not a monster. I would however have a rule that the deceased person’s novelty ringtone choice must be played during the funeral service. This would act as a deterent for other people, warning them against downloading annoying novelty ringtones. People would soon start getting the message when their loved ones are being carried in on a coffin to the relentless blabberings of the Crazy Frog. Have I gone too far? No, I thought not. Novelty ringtones are really that annoying, and I doubt any sane, rational person would have any problems with the combative measures I am suggesting here.

Get in touch with me if you are an IT specialist who is interested in working with me on these exciting initiatives. It would be useful to have some lawyers come forward to help as well.

Download today’s audio Dollop here

Have your headphones at the ready, as I introduce a new interactive feature to the audio Dollops. There are more ideas for David’s Daily Digital Dollop, The Musical, Plus we have a chat with some sheep.

Download it here