New Comedian Of The Year (Leicester Square Theatre 2019, Bath Comedy Festival 2019, Nottingham Comedy Festival 2018) and member of three-time BBC Radio 2 Folk Award winning band The Young'uns
I’ve realised that the last two Dollops have probably painted me as a bit insane, and I don’t think today’s Dollop is really going to help convince you otherwise. It features three songs written and recorded by me in my teens. Psycho’s World was recorded when I was eighteen. Metaphorical Murder was recorded when I was nineteen. And then there is the Vegan song, recorded at the age of just fourteen.
Prepare your ears for an onslaught of death metal and dark, sinister and ludicrous lyrics.
Don’t worry, I’ll write a nice Dollop tomorrow about pretty flowers and fluffy kittens, although be reassured that this time the kittens won’t have diarrhoea
Listeners to yesterday’s audio Dollop were treated to a spontaneous outburst of anger, which stemmed from a combination of things.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s Dollop, I was feeling uninspired and my brain was foggy, although I did manage to come up with something decent in the end I think. Then, when I went to record the audio version, the microphone wouldn’t work and was just generating a series of crackles and hisses. I spent about an hour trying different things to fix the problem, but nothing I tried made any difference.
Ben was due home at 830, and I’d said that I’d make food for his return, and it was now 745. My microphone was making quite an interesting collage of crackles and hisses, and I started to consider maybe just cutting my losses and claiming that today’s Dollop was a weird ambient electronic composition. Perhaps this technological setback would actually prove to be an incredible stroke of good fortune. Maybe someone from BBC Radio 3 would stumble across my composition and commission it for broadcast. I could retrospectively make up some balderdash about what it’s “meant to represent”, maybe plonk a few synths over the top in order to make it seem more of a planned composition rather than just a case of me pressing record, letting the broken mic buzz away for fifteen minutes while I prepared dinner. But then I remembered my limerick about zeak and the leak, and realised what a shame it would be if the world was denied this poetic work of genius. Plus, there’s no reason why someone at BBC Radio 3 or 4 shouldn’t stumble across the Dollop and then comission me to do a poetry series; no reason why not at all.
So I attached my digital recorder to the tripod and started recording. But then I couldn’t find my keyboard in order to load the written Dollop for reading. I stormed around my room in anger, trying to find the lost keyboard, at which point I tripped over the tripod which brought the recorder crashing to the floor, causing the tripod to break into pieces. I then spent another five minutes reassembling the tripod. It was then that I realised that the keyboard had been right next to me all along, meaning that the last five minutes had been a pointless waste of time. Then I lost my headphones, which I’d put down somewhere when I’d been looking for the keyboard, resulting in another search around the room. More swearing ensued. At this point, I realised that I’d not given the warning at the start about their being swearing in the Dollop, for the simple reason that the actual Dollop I was about to read didn’t contain any swearing, although it actually turned out to be my most sweary recording so far.
So if you choose to read the Dollops rather than listen, this is the kind of extra excitement you’re missing out on, and I don’t charge any extra for it. The angry introduction was probably more entertaining than the actual Dollop, although sadly I am doubtful that it would garner the interest of someone at BBC Radio 3.
By the time I’d finished the recording it was 8 o’clock, meaning that I really needed to start making dinner. I then wasted five minutes searching for a knife in the kitchen which I couldn’t find, and so gave up and used an eating knife instead. Perhaps it was fate intervening, knowing that I was too angry to be trusted with a sharp knife. My inability to locate a proper knife caused my anger to resurface once more, and when Elsa walked into the kitchen, she saw me aggressively tearing at the butter with my fingers and angrily slamming it into the wok.
Elsa is normally very quick to read the Dollops, in fact it’s one of the terms and conditions of her living with me. She’ll often make some jocular reference about it when we next see each other around the house. I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t yet managed to release that day’s Dollop, and so she was massively confused upon hearing the words, “sorry food is a bit late, but I’ve just spent the last half hour with a courgette up my arse.” I was also saying this while angrily tearing into the butter with my fingers, which I was doing absent-mindedly, meaning that the wok was now overfilling with butter which was beginning to spit into the air. The meal was even further delayed, as I then had to spend the next five minutes explaining the courgette-arse reference, and the reason for the weirdness with the butter. Normally when I do something that she thinks is a bit weird, I just tell her that it’s an English thing, and that, being French, she probably wouldn’t understand it, but I’m not sure if she’d be convinced that sticking courgettes up your arse and violently tearing at butter was an English thing; it was clearly the doings of a madman.
I kept my angry outburst in the Dollop, partly because by the time I’d finished recording, it was 8 o’clock and I hadn’t started making food yet, but also because I found my shouting rather funny to listen to.
In 2007, I was recording a podcast in which I was trying to interview a guest over the phone. I made multiple attempts to get through to the person, but each time I kept getting automated messages telling me that the call could not be connected. In the end I had to give up, and that podcast didn’t get recorded.
A few months after that event, I was sifting through old files on my hard drive, and deleting the ones that were no longer necessary. I found the recording of these failed phone call attempts. I was just about to delete the file, when I was caught off guard by the sound of my hysterical voice, shouting and swearing at the telephone operator, coming out with all sorts of ridiculous comments and making the strangest anger-fuelled noises. I began to laugh uncontrollably at what I was hearing. The file was an hour long, and it consisted of me dialling the same number over and over again, and getting a combination of different messages, while I got progressively more and more irate. At the time I was too angry to appreciate how ridiculous and comical I was sounding, but listening back months after the scenario, feeling calm, I found the whole thing hilarious.
I edited the hour of audio down to under five minutes, and featured it on a podcast, which gained me the biggest positive response I’d ever received for anything I’d done. It was a little disconcerting to realise that the sound of me losing control over my ability to speak and conduct myself properly was deemed the funniest thing I’d produced ever before, but then again, this was 2007, so they probably had a point. Essentially I’ve spent the rest of my life attempting to create something as funny as that time when I railed and ranted like a madman.
Feel free to have a listen, and decide for yourselves whether or not I reached my comedic zenith in 2007. I come out with a number of odd statements during this clip, the most weird one probably being: “you get paid enough, I’ll rip off your head,” which was aimed at the automated telephone operaotr lady. Obviously it doesn’t make any sense, but there’s a lot of that kind of stuff in this clip. I frequently threaten to murder the telphone operator. Fortunately there was nothing on the news about her being murdered, otherwise this recording could have been used as evidence in court. And I’d be hopeless at defending myself in court. The Jewry would hear me shouting nonsense whilst angrily tearing at butter, and instantly assume I was definitely guilty.
I was reacquainted with my shop assistant friend at Sainsbury’s today. That’s right Jools, pay attention, although I’m not sure if you’re still reading these, now that you’re on a mission to save the planet.
If you are still reading Jools, then I’m sorry to report that the lady seemed a lot more clued up on vegetables today than last week. Perhaps she’d felt a bit ashamed at her veg-based ignorance and so swatted up on the subject ready for our next meeting. Maybe she went straight home that day and bought herself a copy of vegetables 101. By which I am referring to the handy compendium of vegetable types, rather than another book of the same name with the subtitle ‘101 Things To Do With Vegetables’ which starts off innocuously enough but then gets a bit weird from about suggestion 75; although, you might enjoy that bit Chloe. I’d lend you my copy Chloe, but it’s a bit stained, due to an unfortunate incident with a beetroot, in fact I’d recommend skipping suggestion 86 entirely, because it’s very painful and extremely messy.
I was hoping that the shop assistant would have come out with something that I could then write about in today’s Dollop, but alas, she didn’t break into poetry today. I was anticipating something though, as I assumed that if she’d had the idea to research her vegetable knowledge in time for our next meeting, then she might have also prepared a special performance piece; maybe a limerick about leaks, or a rap about radishes or something, but no.
I’ll be honest with you: today seems to be one of those days where my brain is really not working at all. I have absolutely no idea what to write about and nothing is inspiring me. To give you some perspective about what it’s sometimes like doing these daily Dollops, I’ve just spent half an hour sitting at the computer, trying to think of a limerick about leaks. I have no idea why, but I was at a loss for anything else to do, and so that’s what I did.
I suppose I might as well share one of them with you, otherwise it would be a complete waste of my time, even though, to be fair, I don’t think you’ll read it and consider it a particularly good use of my time, but here we go anyway.
There once was a YOUNG man called Zeak
Who did something odd with a leak
What it was he won’t say
But now he walks a strange way
And elicits a curious squeak.
I have another ten of these, but I’ll spare you any more, besides I need to hold something back for the book.
I had a really nice chat with the shop assistant today. Last week I mentioned that I was heading to Australia soon, and this brought us on to what I do for a living. This week we continued down this conversational line, and she asked me what my band was called. I told her, and she enthusiastically said she would definitely check us out and Google us when she got home. I then realised that this now means that she might potentially find this blog, and discover what I wrote about her last week. So even though I have literally nothing of worth to write about today, I feel compelled to keep writing so as to put more words between her and last week’s blog about her. Hopefully this will mean that if she visits my website then there is less of a chance of her finding that particular Dollop; although, now I’ve just realised that I’ve spent this entire Dollop referencing her and the original blog post I wrote about her, meaning that I’m really not helping my cause here. But I am too bereft of anything else to write about, so I can’t delete this and start today’s Dollop again, so I am doomed. Plus, if I did delete all reference to her and last week’s blog, then there wouldn’t be any reason to have written my limerick about Zeak and the leak, and that would be a massive shame.
We spent quite an enjoyable twenty minutes chatting about my trip to Australia amidst locating the various vegetables I was buying. My shop largely consisted of vegetables because, as I explained to her, I was planning on making a vegetable couscous dish. So we chatted about cooking and making vegetarian food, and then a bit more about next week’s trip to Australia before we eventually reached the checkout.
So now you’re aware of those facts, you wouldn’t find it weird what she said to me before she left me at the checkout. But if you didn’t have those facts and were just someone standing in the checkout queue, then you might have been a bit perplexed and maybe a little disturbed by what you heard.
Her parting cheery sentence before leaving me to feel all awkward and self-conscious at the checkout was: “well, have fun with your vegetables and let me know about your adventures down under when you come back.” And then, as she was walking away, she added, “I’ve certainly learnt a thing or two today,” by which I assume she was referring to the fact that she doesn’t really know anything about cooking or vegetables, but again, to the long line of people stood in front of me at the checkout, goodness knows what they were thinking.
I did think about making an attempt at an explanation to the people at the checkout, but couldn’t really be sure that they’d even heard, meaning that I could just be bringing unnecessary attention to myself; plus, people might just assume that I was merely manufacturing an excuse to try and wriggle out of the embarrassing truth. “You were only chatting about cooking and Australia were you? And you really expect us to believe that? A likely story.” So I just left it. Then I went home and stuck a courgette up my arse. The end.
Yesterday’s Dollop was over 2000 words in length, so I decided to just release a short audio Dollop today. Well, that was my intention, but it is actually twelve minutes long. In it I am postulating about pop songs, including the Scissor Sisters, Tears For Fears and Ellie Goulding.
Welcome to my leap day Digital Dollop. There is nothing particularly special about it; itjust so happens to be written on a leap day. I stated at the start of this project that I planned on releasing 365 consecutive daily Dollops, but then I realised that I’d picked a leap year to do this bloody thing in, and so there will be 366 Dollops. I am however hoping that scientists will soon make the discovery that the earth has been orbiting the sun a lot quicker than usual, resulting in an emergency shortening of the year, and meaning that I don’t have to do as many Dollops. If we all push in the same direction hard enough then this might happen. Join with me in trying to push the planet northwards, otherwise I’ll curse you.
On the subject of cursing, I received a comment from Clair yesterday, who expressed interest in parting with money in order to avail herself of my special powers.
“Whilst the curse theory is interesting and, agreed, there does seem to be some evidence to support it. Do you think you may be able to do the opposite and help someone. If you get that scheme up and running please count me in.”
I did say in yesterday’s Dollop that I would be happy to use my powers in a positive way, although I admit that there is no actual evidence yet to support the idea that I can achieve this, whereas there are multiple examples of me negatively influencing things. However, I am willing to give it a go, and I will use today’s Dollop as a test of my ability to positively influence.
I also received a comment from Jenny.
“Enjoying all of your daily dollops. A great daily tonic and much more effective then medicine / tablets. Though if I laugh to much it’s painful…!! Hope to see you in Edinburgh in April on your younguns tour health permitted.”
I am going to try and improve Jenny’s health through this Dollop. I am also going to try and positively influence Clair’s life. There are another three people who I’ve decided to also trial this experiment on. One of them is Mavis Crumble, creator of Mavis Crumble’s Fart Game from Dollop 57, and frequent Dollop commenter. She wrote to me, suggesting that if I used any more of her feature ideas then she would require payment for her services. I have written to her in reply, saying that while I will not pay for her ideas with money, I will however sign her up for my positive energy experiment. I also added that if she did not accept these terms then I would curse her, which we know definitely works. So I think it’s safe to assume that Miss Crumble is onboard.
I also thought that Jools could maybe benefit from some positive energy. Imagine living in a world Jools where you are able to read a blog post and not get all tense and stressed when you see a spelling mistake. Imagine being able to leave a comment without being pedantic. If I can help make this a reality Jools then I will. I shall send positive energy your way through the medium of Digital Dollop.
The next person who I feel might be in need of some positive help is Howy, who left a comment today saying: “Catching up with the podcasts last night in bed. Funny but does not lead to great sex.”
Firstly, this statement has peaked my curiosity (yes Jools, that’s right, I deliberately wrote peaked. I know it’s the wrong spelling, and that you’re starting to get all tense and angry, but soon this affliction will be a thing of the past. I know you are shaking with the urge to leave a pedantic comment, but try and temper that desire and keep reading, for I am about to attempt to help you with positive intention.).
The reason that Howy’s statement has peaked my curiosity is because of the word “great.” He says that listening to the Dollops doesn’t lead to “great sex,” which seems to suggest that it does however lead to sex, even if it is a bit mediocre. I think we need more clarification from Howy about this. Are you listening to the Dollops as a form of foreplay? Are you then engaging in sex immediately after listening to the Dollop? And if so, what is the problem? Is it that one of you gets distracted during the act, and starts remembering parts of the Dollop?
“Haha! Peas.”
There might be people listening to the audio version of the Dollop now who have misunderstood my point here. They may assume that when I wrote, “haha, peas,” I actually wrote, “haha,” pees, as if suggesting that one of them had got distracted during the sex, laughed, and then proceeded to urinate, perhaps as a physical reaction to laughing. But this is not what I was inferring listeners; I was referring to last Monday’s Dollop about my trip to buy peas from Sainsbury’s. Why you didn’t find that story arousing Howy is a mystery.
So, they are my five Guinea pigs. I shall now write a positive paragraph about each of them, which will hopefully positively influence their lives.
Jenny
Jenny is one of the most healthy people on the planet. Jenny is so well in fact, that when people see her they always comment on how she’s glowing; although, they actually do mean that she is really glowing, due to an odd reaction she had to one of the tablets, but apart from that she is feeling healthier and more vibrant and vivacious than ever before.
She comes to The Young’uns gig in Edinburgh and has a great time, although everyone else in the audience is a bit pissed off because of the bright glowing girl who is hurting their eyes and impairing their view. But the good news is that the weird glowing phenomena will wear off soon and then she’ll be left looking ten times more pretty than she did before, which is hard to conceive because Jenny is already one of the prettiest girls in the world, as well as one of the most intelligent, which is clearly exemplified by the fact that she reads/listens to David’s daily Digital Dollop. She lives happily ever after.
Mavis Crumble
Mavis came to prominence in 2016 as a result of her feature ideas for David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which gained her the attentions of some of the top decision makers in radio and television. This led to a bidding war between, Sky, the BBC and ITV. Eventually ITV won the rights and Mavis went to work on creating feature ideas for Ant & Dec. The double act loved Mavis so much that they recorded a re-release of their 90’s hit song Let’s Get Ready To Rumble, called, Let’s Get Ready To Crumble, which featured references to all Mavis’s genius ideas. There was even a mention to Mavis Crumble’s Fart Game as featured on David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which gave me a massive profile boost, which in turn gained me the attention of radio and TV execs. (hey, if I’m going to make all this come true, then you can’t begrudge me a little something for myself too.)
Mavis was granted a 50 % share in the royalties for the Let’s Get Ready To Crumble song, which went to number one in every single country in the world for an entire year; although, in fairness, the year was only fifteen weeks long, due to some scientists discovering that the earth was orbiting the sun much faster than usual. Mavis was then able to take early retirement due to the royalties, not to mention all the Mavis Crumble merchandise which went on sale.
Justin bieber was livid when he noticed that Mavis Crumble’s twitter account had more followers than his, making her the most followed person on Twitter. In fact, he was so livid that he vowed never to make music again. Everyone was so overjoyed by this news that Mavis Crumble was granted the title Queen of Planet Earth, which basically meant she just got loads of free holidays and got to do anything she wanted. And she lived happily ever after.
Jools
Jools woke up one morning feeling much lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She logged onto Facebook for her usual routine of reading people’s status updates and blogs, and then getting riled by their bad grammar or misspellings. She would then usually spend the next part of the day leaving angry pedantic comments, correct their grammar and spelling and suggesting ways in which they can improve their writing. But today was different. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the bad spellings and incorrect grammar; it’s just that it didn’t seem to bother her any more. She then left positive comment after positive comment, in fact, she was so giddy with this whole new exciting experience that she didn’t even bother to check her own spelling, and actually left quite a few misspelt words and grammatically incorrect sentences. But she didn’t care, in fact, she was ecstatic by her new found freedom.
Her change was so overwhelming and inspiring that she began to develop a highly popular self-help career, where she would tour the world lecturing about her new-found life philosophy. She quickly rose to prominence thanks to her infamy on David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which everyone knew about because of Mavis Crumble. Jools would go on to coach CEOs of major companies, presidents and prime ministers. She was so influential, that she had a major positive effect on the entire planet.
One of her most notorious successes was with Donald Trump. After just two minutes with Jools, Trump was a different man. He broke down in front of her and thanked her for showing him the love and tolerance that everyone else of any worth had struggled to demonstrate. But Jools had such an overwhelming compassion and tolerance for Trump’s ignorance that it caused his entire life philosophy to dramatically change.
But Jools’ main triumph was to bring about world peace, using her non-judgement and unyielding levels of tolerance to win the hearts and addled minds of ISIS and other negative ideological groups. Jools essentially saved planet earth, and she, along with every other living person, lived happily ever after.
Howy
Howy didn’t know what had happened to him. It was a bit disconcerting at first. For a start his penis had significantly increased in length and girth, and it was as if someone had hooked him up to a mainframe computer which exclusively housed every single book about sex on the planet. He instantly had a working knowledge of the entire ins and outs of the kamasutra (and there’s a lot of talk about ins and outs in that book) as well as every other tome on sexual technique ever written.
Howy used to be the kind of man who would blame his sexual ineptitude on anything and everything under the sun, including the podcasts of folk singers. But now everything has changed. There is no more need for excuses, for Howy is now the kind of lover that would make Rasputin and Casanova blush and tremble in awe. Howy is the kind of man that sleeps with your wife or girlfriend, and you don’t mind, because you know that she’s only human and that it hardly counts as cheating if it’s the Howy experience. In fact, you are actually immensely glad that Howy has been with her, because maybe he’s taught her a thing or two that she can pass onto you.
Clair
Clair was the lady who brought all this positive change into being. She was the one who suggested to me that I used my powers to influence life for good rather than cursing people. Without Clair, none of this would have happened. Jools wouldn’t have created ever-lasting world peace, Jenny wouldn’t be healthy and vivacious, Mavis wouldn’t have stopped Justin Bieber making music, and Howy would still be having substandard sex and pissing himself. It is because of Clair that we, and she will live happily ever after! The end.
OK, we’ll see how that goes. I’ll keep checking in on you all and find out how your lives are developing. But this has the potential to be revolutionary.
So, I wrote about Tony Blackburn, and a mere five days later he was sacked by the BBC. I wrote about Richard Dawkins dying, and on the day that I was going to perform the routine at a comedy night, I discovered that he’d had a stroke the day before. In Thursday’s Dollop I wrote about David Cameron, and then suggested that with a bit of luck something negative might happen to him as a result. It’s beginning to seem as if this Dollop might hold some odd power of influence. I’ve just read an article in the Huffington post with the headline: “David Cameron Warned He Will Face Leadership Challenge If He Keeps Attacking Anti-EU Tories.”
I’m wondering whether this evidence will be enough to convince some people of my powers. Maybe I could setup a donation button on my website, which allows you to pay money for a positive comment about you on my Dollop, resulting in good fortune coming your way. Similarly you could donate some money and send me the name of someone who you’d like me to curse by writing negatively about them. If you get your donations in now then you’ll be able to take advantage of this service much cheaper than in the future, as prices will be set and will increase as more evidence accumulates to support the claim that this system really works. You can stay sceptical and pay more, or take a leap of faith, pay a great deal less and take advantage of this scheme earlier than others. Get in touch with me if you’re interested.
I might also create a scheme whereby I will notify you if you happen to be someone’s intended recipient of misfortune. I will then give you the opportunity to pay more money than the person who is trying to get you cursed, and this money will mean that I drop the curse and don’t write about you. Although, I will then go back to the original donater and give them the opportunity to increase their donation to re-instigate their curse against you. Obviously you will then be given the right to increase your donation and this process will continue until someone backs out of the deal. You also have the opportunity to pay more money to send a curse to the person who originally wanted to curse you.
You might say this scheme is highly unfair, as it favours the rich. All I would say to you in response is to be careful what you say about me, because if I find out you’ll be ripe for the cursing. And anyway, I don’t just accept money; there are also other ways of paying, and yes Chloe, I am referring to what you’re hoping I’m referring to, so get your bid in quick.
Actually, I knew I had special powers from day one, and this was my real reason for doing David’s Daily Digital Dollop. I deliberately spent the first fifty-eight Dollops writing in a jocular manner, talking about seemingly innocuous things like going to the shops and my new kettle, but all this was merely to provide a cover story in order to protect myself against claims of using black magic. You might think that I am now being a bit reckless in revealing all this, but I am pretty confident that I’ve covered my back so well with my cleverly cultivated light-hearted humorous blog construct that most people will just assume that I am still joking., the idiots. Plus, if anyone dares to challenge me then I’ll write about them and consequently curse them.
This is not the first time that I’ve considered that I might hold some mysterious ability to curse people. If you’ve found this atypically short Dollop unsettlingly scant, then you can read a blog post I wrote in October 2011 which talks about another incident in which one of my curses came true.
Getting sacked from the BBC must be a surreal experience. You have to keep popping back into your old place of work repeatedly in order to do radio and TV interviews with the BBC about being sacked. Tomorrow Tony Blackburn appears on BBC Radio 4’s Broadcasting House programme, which probably records in the same building that Tony would work at when presenting his Radio Two shows. Blackburn’s interview for the programme has actually already been recorded today. He normally broadcasts on Radio 2 on a Saturday. He was probably in the very same building at the same time as usual, only instead of broadcasting on Radio 2, he went next-door and talked about being fired on Radio 4. He probably saw whoever’s taken over his show in the corridor. What with all the sudden interest in Tony Blackburn, he’s actually been on BBC TV and radio more in the last couple of days than he ordinarily would when he actually worked for the BBC.
The whole Tony Blackburn sacking situation seems rather nebulous, given that the BBC have been very vague about the whole thing, to the point that on Thursday morning you had the BBC news suggesting that the BBC had sacked him, although the BBC at that time were refusing to comment. So the BBC was reporting an iledged sacking, but then saying that the BBC had yet to comment. Again, we’re probably talking about people in the same building here. Tony Blackburn probably popped next-door after his sacking, told BBC news that he’s just been sacked, then Someone from BBC news popped next-door and asked the BBC bosses, who were all conveniently assembled in the one room as if they’d just been having a really important meeting about sacking one of their high-profile presenters.
“Damn!” thinks the boss, “why do we have such an on-the-ball and efficient news team? I’ve been hoisted by my own petard, as I’m the one who sanctions their training.”
The boss sees that the news reporter has just spied his file, open on his desk, with the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking” written on it in big bold letters. He panics, and desperately starts wracking his brain to find a way out. “Hide the evidence,” he thinks. He picks up the file and tries to shove it in his mouth, hoping that he can eat it, but it’s no use, the file is too wide and thick to go in his mouth, plus he realises that this would arouse even more suspicion – a trained BBC News journalist would notice that kind of thing. And anyway, he also looked at his colleagues and remembered that they also had files on their desk with the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking” written on in big bold letters. He would have to think of something clever to say to get out of this one, and fast.
“No comment,” he shouted. He realised that he was sounding hysterical, which hardly helped his cause. So he said “no comment” again, only much more casually, and then leant back in his chair, hoping to convey the notion that he was totally cool and relaxed. Sadly, this last move last move backfired, as he’d completely forgotten that his chair didn’t have a back, meaning that he toppled backwards off his chair, and landed on the floor with his legs in the air. He tried to grab hold of the desk to steady him, but it was too late. All that happened was that he fell, bringing the file with him which landed hard on his face.
At this point, a BBC news cameraman shuffled into the office with his equipment, ready to cover the story. He couldn’t let this happen. He was lying on the floor with his legs in the air in the most ignominious pose, with a file on his head boldly displaying the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking.” And he knew that the cameraman wasn’t going to miss a shot like this. He’d been given BBC training, he knew this because again, he’d organised the training. He cursed the proficiency of his staff.
He scrambled to his feet and shouted at the assembled news team, telling them that he’d sack them all if they dared to broadcast this. The news team slumped back next-door, disappointed. They’d have to miss out on another exclusive. They knew that Sky would start broadcasting the news in the next few minutes, and then it wouldn’t be too long before the rest of the news outlets caught-up. Eventually the BBC would report on “rumours of the sacking of Tony Blackburn by the BBC,” and state that there is, “as of yet, no comment rom the BBC,” even though the sodding thing had taken place at the other side of their studio wall.
Anyway, I hadn’t planned to write a tangential fictional story, but sometimes I start writing these Dollops and get carried away with a scenario or a subject that I hadn’t really intended to write about. I had intended to talk more seriously about the BBC, and how it seems sometimes as if they’re almost actively trying to hang themselves, but I never got around to talking about that. I aim for serious, but my brain is clearly more comfortable going on weird fictitious flights of fancy. Anyway, it’s gone 7 o’clock now, and so I don’t have time to write any more or worry that this is a bit haphazard and weird. I suppose that
this is maybe one of the strengths of this project. Perhaps a blog post like this would never see the light of day if I was writing less regularly, because I’d try and tidy it up or develop it more, but the need to produce on a daily basis sometimes means that there isn’t that luxury. I suppose you could either see that as a strength of this project or a weakness. I’m not sure. It’ll be interesting to see how I feel when I look back on these Dollops in the future. I hope you got something out of it anyway. As always, feel free to comment, and I’ll be back tomorrow.
Great news, yesterday’s Dollop gained the attention of comedian Peter Kay. He’s apparently been searching for a variation on his famous garlic bread routine, but has never found the right combination of words. But then Peter found yesterday’s Dollop and this has seemingly put an end to his years of seeking. He has offered to buy the rights to use my vegetables routine, which I merely included as a flippant throwaway section simply to pacify Jools.
Here’s the email I received from a very excitable Peter Kay just a few hours ago.
“Hello David, this is Peter Kay. I was surfing the net when I came across your website. OK, I’ll admit, I was actually searching for young Hungarian fat gay boys and after ten hours of non-stop niche porn I eventually found your website. I’ll be honest, most of what I read was shit, but there was one bit that I really liked, and that was your vegetables routine from yesterday’s Dollop.
I would be interested in buying the rights to this routine. I was thinking £1000 and all the garlic bread you could ever want. I still get sent cases of garlic bread by people, after my amazingly hilarious garlic bread routine. Do you remember it? I basically just say the words garlic bread lots of times and people laugh. I’ve been trying for years to come up with another idea as brilliant as that, and when I saw your blog post, I knew that I’d finally found it.
I immediately imagined myself on stage delivering the collie flower line. I was saying the two words, sounding completely bemused, as if the idea was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard in my life. Then I just continued saying the two words over and over again, but changing the intonation, the pitch and the inflection. Some times I would say “collie? ……….. flower?!” pausing dramatically, and giving equal incredulity to both the word collie and the word flower. Other times I might stress the word “collie” more than the word “flower”, and visor-versa. I was also playing around the length of the pauses, just reacting in the moment, guided by my inate intuition. I mean, I was really experimenting with the form and meter and the delivery of the words. I reckon I could keep that going for a good ten minutes. I could hear the audience’s hysterical laughter, unabating. I felt that power once again, the kind of power that I’ve not felt since the glorious garlic bread days. I would just keep saying the same two words in different ways, and people would be helpless with laughter.
So, what’s it to be David? Is it a deal? £1000 and all the garlic bread you could ever want. Oh, and I’ll also go halves on all the cauliflower that comes my way as a result of the routine. You’ve really struck gold with this one David, but if you tried doing the collie flower routine yourself at your own gigs then it wouldn’t be giving the material the prestige that it deserves. Plus, I don’t think you have what it takes to be able to deliver the same two words over and over again and make an audience wet themselves with laughter. I am the man for that job David. Why don’t you sell the rights to me, and you can stay at home, living a life of luxury, munching your way through mounds of garlic bread and cauliflower. Leave the hard graft to me. Let me know your thoughts.
P.S. Please keep your response brief, as you do tend to go on a bit.”
Exciting stuff. I am considering my options, although I think I might try and haggle a bit; maybe try and get a 70 % steak in the cauliflower bounty.
In defiant opposition to David Cameron’s risible and all-too-revealing comments about Jeremy Corbyn in yesterday’s PMQs, I am writing today’s Dollop wearing an ill-fitting suit and an unstraightened tie. I think that Cameron’s comment to Corbyn really displayed his true colours, and I’m not referring to your outfit David, but something a lot more important and disconcerting; yes David, even more important than suits and silly songs. We saw the mask come off; obviously this is a figurative mask, as a real mask would clash with his suit, and his mother would be livid. We saw the real David Cameron: the pompous, privileged, patriotic, priggish, preening prat. If you’re a lefty who also happens to be a fan of aliteration, then today’s your lucky day.
“put on a proper suit, do up your tie, and sing the national anthem”. That’s what’s important in David cameron’s world. Sod the NHS, sod the actual issues, buy a better suit and sing a stupid song asking a fictitious entity to save the figurehead of an outdated, pointless totem of inequality and injustice. I think you seriously need to reevaluate what really needs saving, Cameron. You actually have it within your power to do some genuine, valid saving: the NHS, the welfare state, the BBC, the emergency services …
Surely Cameron’s comments weren’t viewed by his advisors as positive? What happened to the hoody-hugging Cameron? The man of the people image? You mean, that was all a sham? I’d love to be a fly on the wall at Downing Street, partly because I’d be interested to hear Cameron’s post PMQs debrief, but mainly because I’d just like to shit in Cameron’s dinner.
If ever I listen to Prime Minister’s Questions I always end up feeling completely baffled. Nothing ever seems to really get properly addressed. The whole discussion on the Health Secretary’s statistics about patient deaths at weekends is a casing point. Corbyn accuses the conservatives of being guilty of overstating the figure. The labour side cheers. Cameron comes back at Corbyn and says that yes they are guilty. A hush descends over the place. Is Cameron really going to admit that they made a mistake? That’s what we’re all thinking. But then Cameron does something really clever. He pauses for dramatic effect and then delivers the punchline: “guilty of actually understating the figures.” The conservatives are jubilant. “aaaaaah” they snidely intone. And then we move onto another question, leaving me completely confused. Are the statistics understated or overstated? And this happens all the time in PMQs. Does anyone really know? The reaction of the assembled conservatives seems to suggest that they don’t have a clue, hence the stunned silence and then the “aaaaaaaaah” when Cameron does his pull back and reveal – oh god, that’s just given me an image that I really can do without.
I am getting a little concerned that these Dollops have some odd power to influence the universe. I wrote about Richard dawkins dying, and then I discovered that he’s just had a stroke. Last Saturday I wrote about Tony Blackburn’s career, and today it emerges that he’s just been sacked by the BBC. I just hope that nothing bad has happened to Jools. If you’re still reading these Dollops Jools, let me know that everything is OK, and that you haven’t contracted a disease or just been fired from your job. On the plus side though, I have just written about David Cameron, so fingers crossed – actually, I best keep my fingers uncrossed for now as typing with crossed fingers would probably be rather difficult.
Back tomorrow, if I’m not too bloated after my celebratory garlic bread and cauliflower binge.
I’ve had another run-in with Jools. I’ve talked about Jools a few times in these Dollops. She has been a reader of these Dollops since the very beginning, and she’s commented on almost every one of them. I think she’s probably read them all.
Many of her comments have been suggestions about how I might want to improve the Dollops, and one of these suggestions was that I make the dollops shorter. I addressed this comment in Dollop 46, so I won’t go over it again, for brevity’s sake (you see? I’m learning, Jools).
Last Sunday, I was really tired after coming back from the wedding fair. I’d barely slept the night before and had to get up early to leave Manchester. I got back from the fair at about 4pm and still needed to write that day’s Dollop. But I could barely keep my eyes open. I wrote the dollop while lying in bed, periodically falling asleep, before waking again a few seconds later and continuing typing. As a result, the Dollop was a bit shorter than usual; 782 words fact fans.
Jools left a comment on this Dollop saying: “Well done on the precision of the shorter length dollop. Having to say things in fewer words concentrates the mind and the ideas. And it is easier to read.”
‘Thank you Jools, although, the shortness was more down to a malfunctioning brain and falling asleep during the writing process, as opposed to anything else. Perhaps I should try writing these Dollops while dosed up on sleeping tablets. I might eventually end up killing myself, but at least you’d get a decent run of short Dollops before I died, and on the plus side, when I’m dead my Dollops will be even shorter, to the point of non-existent.
The next day, I was back to my usual ways, writing a blog post that contained 1484 words. I expected Jools to be disappointed that I’d tantalised her with a shorter Dollop and then rubbed her face in an extra big Dollop the next day. But her comment was uncharacteristic.
“Yes. This is funny. I’d like to have heard more about the young girl and her bewilderment at the world of veg. You could have taken this for a longer walk. Or drawn her out more.”
Yes, I know, Jools is now suggesting that I write more. She’s mentioned on several occasions about making the Dollops shorter, and then when I write a lengthy Dollop,she starts intimating that I extend the Dollop even further.
For anyone who didn’t read/listen to Dollop 53, here is a brief extract of the bit Jools is referring to. If you have read or heard this before, you can either skip this bit, or relive the magic another time, and perhaps you’ll find new dimensions that you didn’t appreciate the first time.
“I’ve just come back from Sainsbury’s. Being blind I ask someone working at the shop to help me get the various things. Today’s lady had seemingly never seen a vegetable before, nor most of the food I was buying. She’d never heard of spring onions before, had no idea what a courgette was. Cherry tomatoes seemed to be a concept that completely bewildered her. “I’ve heard of cherries, and I know about tomatoes, but I didn’t know that you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.””
There’s a lot more to the story than this; the lady’s lack of veg knowledge was just the scene setter, the tip of the iceberg, the iceberg lettuce maybe – another vegetable that the lady’s probably never heard of. I cited three vegetables that I wanted to buy, and explained that the lady hadn’t heard of any of them. I’m not sure how much more beneficial it would have been to continue naming vegetables and then continue to explain that the shop assistant had never heard of them. I thought three was enough, and ordinarily Jools would be telling me to edit and make the Dollops shorter, but when it comes to vegetables, she’s seemingly hungry for more.
I’m feeling a bit guilty about being too harsh on Jools. I genuinely do appreciate her reading these Dollops and she is one of the few people who actually leaves a comment, whereas the rest of you out there (and I know you’re there because I can see you on my web and podcast stats) you’re just take take take. But Jools gives something back. Granted, what she gives back is at times confusing and contradictory. But at least she’s participating. So, I don’t want to be overly harsh on her. So I thought I’d do something nice just for Jools,to say thanks. So here are a few more examples of vegetables, followed up with some comments about them by the clueless shop assistant. My original three examples from the 53rd Dollop were actually true, whereas these are invented by me as a special treat for you Jools. I hope you like them. The rest of you might find this next section a bit overkill. You might be of the opinion that three vegetables was enough. Feel free to skip ahead to the next bit. After all, this is not designed for you; I am exclusively catering for Jools now, to say thanks and sorry if I’ve been too harsh on her. OK, here you go Jools. I hope you enjoy.
“I need to get a cauliflower.”
“A Cauliflower? Never heard of it. I’ve heard of a collie, as in the dog. And I’ve heard of a flower, as in the thing that grows, but I didn’t know you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice. A flower that tastes like a dog? No thank you.”
“I also need to buy a jacket potato.”
“A what? A jacket potato? I’ve never heard of that before. I’ve heard of a jacket, as in the item of clothing. And I’ve heard of a potato. But I didn’t know you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice. A potato that tastes like leather? Rather you than me.”
“I also need some parsnips.”
“Some what? Pa’s nips? As in dad’s nipples? That sounds disgusting! Do they cut them off the dad’s when they die? Or do they do it when they’re alive? It sounds very cruel. Plus, I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.”
That’s kind of the clueless shop assistant’s catchphrase Jools: “I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.” I could do more, and I happily will if you pay me. But for the sake of everyone else and myself, let’s move on.
Jools’ comment from Dollop 53 continued:
“‘curiosity’ is piqued not peaked.”
Fair enough, she corrected my misuse of the word peaked over piqued, which is fine. I’ve never seen it written down before. I tend to have a screen reader reading things to me, so there are certain words that I’ve never actually read before. So fine, I don’t mind having my spelling corrected, although, let me tell you Jools that my spellchecker constantly gets irritated with me when I type your name, because it’s apparently not a correct spelling. So, get your own name spelt right first before you start pointing fingers. That’s my message to you, and you can’t argue with logic like that.
I replied to Jools’ comment in what I intended to be a jocular manner.
“My goodness, well, thank you, I feel as if I’m being marked by the teacher now. Whatever you do please don’t give me lines; I have enough writing to be getting on with as it is. Glad you enjoyed it. I like the fact that you’ve been suggesting that I expurgate the blogs, and yet you then request more detail about her lack of vegetable knowledge. Just imagine a vegetable, and then imagine that she’s never heard of it, and do that until you get bored. That should give you a similar result. Unfortunately, I only asked her for courgette, peas, spring onions and cherry tomatoes. Perhaps next time I will record my shopping trip, and deliberately ask for more vegetables, and capture her reaction. Feel free to suggest vegetables if there are any particular types you’d like me to insert, by which I mean mention – it’s not that kind of blog, not yet anyway, but you never know, if the money’s right. Have I piqued your interest perchance?”
Now, I wrote this, assuming that it would be taken as a lighthearted response to Jools’ critique. She’s correcting my spelling (which I really don’t mind) and she’s making suggestions about how I can improve what I’ve written, which is a little different to how anyone else interacts with these blogs, but fair enough, why not? I mean, it’s just her opinion, and I’m probably not going to change what I do on the basis of it, but still, it’s fine. So I made a little joke about her being like a teacher, marking my work. I assumed it would be taken as a joke, especially given that she’s not fallen shy of offering frank comment herself. Jools has probably read every single one of my Dollops, meaning that she’s had an insight into the way I think for seven weeks, so I’d assume that she’d know that I was merely joking when I made that comment to her. But, I think I’ve given Jools the impression that I am annoyed with her.
I received a reply from Jools saying: “Ah, that’s where I’m going wrong then. I thought it was any reaction you wanted, and that, sadly, was mine.”
So I think that Jools has taken um bridge with my reply. Fortunately, I’ve written this lovely blog post to help placate her and smooth things over between us, so we should be fine now. Are we cool Jools? How about one more vegetable scenario to help make things good between us once again?
“I also want to buy a pumpkin.”
“What?! A what?! Pump? As in, fart? Kin? What, like … a family member? A family member’s farts? I’m sorry, you’re just being stupid now. I’m sick of hearing about these ridiculous made-up vegetables. I’m not prepared to help you any more. Good day sir, I’m leaving. But not before I’ve said: I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.”
Got to get her catchphrase in, eh Jools? Oh, and I made this Dollop extra long for you, just to say thanks.
