And so the glorious moment has finally arrived. This is my first blog post using the aforementioned QUERTY keyboard. I am typing directly into the
Mobile phone. This means that I’ll be able to blog and work from any location, providing I don’t lose my phone and the battery remains charged. Anyway,
I thought long and hard about how to make my QUERTY blogging debut, but after much deliberation I came to the realisation that there could only be one
setting deserving of the privilege. Just think of it, I can now blog from anywhere – on busses and trains zooming across the country, (not that busses get close to reaching anything near zoom point) and a myriad of exotic locations around the world, but even more exciting than that, now I can write blogs from the toilet. Hurray! At first you might think this is a little banal. However, I have most of my great ideas on the toilet. Now you may be thinking, “what great ideas?” Exactly, that’s the point. By the time I get away from the bathroom I have often forgotten
what the great idea was. Well no more. Now I can blog to the world from my toilet, but wait, the possibilities are endless here, I’m not just talking about my toilet, but any toilet anywhere in the world. Wow! Just imagine.

Well, I’ll leave you to imagine, and see if this will send successfully. < Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Ah! That’s better!)

Hi, I’ve got loads of stuff I need to do before I go to bed tonight, so this is just a quick post (hurray!) to mention that the 90th southside Podcast is available. I realise I’ve got myself in a bit of a trap now because for the last two weeks I’ve been saying how I especially enjoyed recording the current week’s podcast and how great the podcast is. I realise if I keep saying this every week then it will inevitably lose any meaning and negate my genuine, honest sentiment. Therefore, can we just take it as red that every podcast is going to be great so that the sentiment doesn’t lose its value. I promise to warn you if ever I think the podcast is not so great on one particular week. However, in spite of all that, I must say (on just this one occasion) that this week’s podcast is amazing and I especially enjoyed making it. Here is the description for it:

“What do you get if you cross Groove Armada with the Nolan Sisters? Find out by listening to this week’s Southside Podcast. Groove Armada’s Tom Findlay explains the joys of ‘Lovebox’ – the affordable music festival. The Nolans are back, touring the UK. In fact it has been rumoured that the main reason for the Nolans reforming and going back on tour was just so they could get on the southside Podcast. Well, their dream has come true as this week we feature an interview with the Nolans. Award winning film director and animator Ed Hartwell talks to us about his short SCI-FI film ‘The Day The Robots Woke Up’ and about the complexities of animation. There’s a short yet surreal interview with Rosie Langhorn (formerly Rosie Hetherington from the dance troop Legs & Co). Southside regular Felicity Hardingham from ‘Golden Goose PR’ talks about ‘Toast Fest’. Find out more by listening to this week’s podcast, plus there’s a chance to enter our competition to win a family ticket to 2009’s ‘Great Yorkshire show’. And, for the first time ever, Southside go in the mix with DJ David eagle! wigidy wack! Booya! Brapp! Jiga Jiga! And all that jazz. So pod on ™ Pink Panther style to the 90th Southside Podcast, complete with frequent interruptions from call centre staff and family members.”

And I suppose you’ll be wondering where the download link is, yes? Well wonder no more, for it is
here.
P.S. I’ve got myself a portable QUERTY keyboard for the mobile so expect lots of blogging on location in the near future. I’m especially looking forward to listening into conversations people are having on busses and trains and then eternalising them in blog form. Fortunately for you the keyboard hasn’t arrived yet and so you were spared the conversation I overheard on the bus today between two men discussing a threesome one of them had been involved in. I only caught snippets of the conversation above the roar of the engine but I did hear him gleefully announce several times, “both ends, both ends!” And then later on – in case his friend hadn’t quite grasped the concept he elaborated on exactly what he meant by “ends”. To be honest, there wasn’t really much more to the story beyond the “both ends” scenario, plus there were a few plot holes in the story, though the less said about plot holes in this instance the better. And with that image in mind, I leave you.

Byeeee!

As the title of this post suggests, I’m on the bus. Not just any old, standard, run-of-the-mill bus, o no! This is “the” bus, the definite article. That’s what everyone else seems to believe. Everyone is so adamant that they happen to be occupying “the” definitive bus. So, for instance, I’m on the bus and someone’s mobile phone rings. When the person on the other end of the phone asks “where are you?” the answer is “I’m on the bus”. The other person seems to accept this response. But then what if the person on the bus asks the other person on the phone “where are you?” and the response comes, “I’m on the bus”? Then what? Wouldn’t this revelation plunge their two worlds’ into utter chaos? Surely such a concept would
Disturb the entire macrocosm and microcosm of the entire universe! Two definitive buses existing simultaneously in space and time? So be careful when making such bold claims. You might get away with it when speaking to your friends but if you said this to a physicist then you could give them a heart attack.
Also why do people claim to be “on the bus” or “on the train” but would then say they are “in the car”? Why do they believe that buses and trains have such vastly different dimensional properties to cars? Come on people, think before you speak!

Anyway, the main point of this was simply to say that I’m on the bus. Hurray! And we have finally started moving again after spending over half an hour in a traffic jam.
In fact, it has taken me all that time just to write this. The reason it has taken me so long to write so little is not because I have spent minutes cautiously deliberating over every word – although I can see how you might think this due to the perfection of my writing style and the brilliant, intelligent content.
The actual reason for my slow writing is because I am using a mobile phone which doesn’t have a QWERTY keyboard, just the standard number keypad. If I was text messaging then I would normally use a lot of abbreviations and slang but I know that many people read this blog because of my perfect, impeccable use of language and writing. I know that Stephen fry likes to read this blog frequently for inspiration and so I must not shirk my immense responsibility of keeping the literary world in order.

This is the first blog post I have written using a mobile phone. It seems a shame that my blog posts have to be written purely when I am stationary, generally at home. My ultimate aim is to be able to update on the move. This should give things a more live feel. However, my appraisal of mobile blogging thus far is simply: “It takes a bloody age!” Perhaps if I got a Bluetooth QWERTY keyboard for the phone then it would be more feasible. I don’t think I would have the patients to spend an hour writing just 500 words. Still, the good news is that it can be done, but it probably won’t be done. Not until I get a qWERTY keyboard.

Finally, I’ve thought of a song parody that I can’t be bothered to do and so I’ll give it away for free for any ailing radio presenters to try recording. It’s a parody of Christina Aguilera’s ‘Dirty’, only it’s called ‘Qwerty”. You see? You understand? Eh? So the parody could be about Christina Aguilera’s attempt to send long messages to someone but she is getting frustrated by the length of time it takes to write the texts. Then she decides that she wants to get a QWERTY keyboard. “Wanna get Qwerty” she sings. So, there you go! Perhaps if it doesn’t get stolen and made into a number one selling single I might do something with it to celebrate getting a QWERTY mobile keyboard. Imagine that!!!

Byeeeeeeeeeeee! (O! that’s a nightmare to do by text. It takes ages to write all the letter E’s. You have to press the letter and then wait for it to clear and press it again and wait and press and wait until you’d wished that you’d just wrote “bye” properly. It’s worth getting a QWERTY keyboard to be able to achieve writing “byeeeeeee” in less than ten minutes.

Well I might not be very good at keeping a blog but I’m one hell of a podcaster. You don’t believe me? Well you wouldn’t would you? That’s just typical you isn’t it? The 89th ‘Southside Podcast’ is available to download
here. And this is the description for this week:

“Following on from last week’s conversation on data protection law, this week we look at disability and employment law with Solicitor Claire Dawson. Continuing our ongoing commitment to bringing you the best in literature, we feature two journalists and authors. Christine Field house’s autobiography ‘Why do Monsters come out at Night’ is an emotional rollercoaster of a book, charting her present life as a mother, journalist and author contrasted with her childhood, living with her alcoholic father. Mark Robberts is a journalist and award winning writer. He talks to us about his work including the many television programs he has written for, his new romantic thriller and shares some insights and anecdotes about working as a writer and as a journalist, serving under the infamous Robert Maxwell.

Plus, presenter David Eagle resurrects, in astonishingly vivid detail, the character who used to haunt Southside Station Manager Alexius Lewczuk’s night’s as a child. Hear how David manages to nearly wreck his whole broadcasting career in just the space of five seconds. There’s a chance to play ‘Guess the accent’ as we listen to a narrator attempting (in vain) to assimilate character accents, and it’s the return of the ‘Mm Game’. All this and more when you “Pod On” this week, in the company of the Adams Family.”

So are you going to download it then? … Look, what about a compromise. If you like, you can just download it and then delete it without listening. At least then, it will make the statistics graph look more impressive. Consider it a way of giving to charity without having to hand over money. Now you can struggle on through the economic recession without having to feel guilty about passing that big issue seller without stopping, and mugging that old disabled woman. So go on,
download it! Aww! Thanks!

And I’d like to dedicate this blog post to the lady who rescued me from a train toilet last week. I know that some sighted people find train toilets a little disconcerting but being blind, the disconcertion factor is increased. The first problem I have is locating the toilet in the first place. The second problem is trying to move down a busy train full of squashed-up standing people without injuring either a few of them or myself. There is also the knowledge that it may prove difficult to regain my seat once I’ve moved and I may have trouble locating my luggage. I can’t really carry a large suitcase down a crowded train and so I leave my seat and head to the toilet at my peril. Then once the toilet has been located it’s often difficult to open it. Sometimes you pull and the door just opens. Other times you have to press a button. Fortunately on this occasion the button was marked in Braille and so it was relatively easy. Once inside, I attempted to close the door but three minutes of grappling around in search of a Braille close button yielded nothing. The toilet remained open. My desperation increased. I found the emergency button, the flush button, a sign for baby changing facilities, the taps, the soap dispenser but no sign of a button to close and lock the door. I decided I would have to ask someone. I took a step outside the toilet and at that moment the toilet door decided to close. Typical! So perhaps it opens and closes automatically when it senses movement. Obviously this is not true. Such a system would have obvious flaws. The toilets in trains are generally quite small and so one tiny movement in the wrong direction and the toilet door would inconveniently open, revealing who knows what. But I was desperate for the toilet and so logic took a back seat. I pressed the open button again and entered the toilet. I then tried walking backwards and forwards, waving my arms frantically, trying to make the senser pick up my movements and close the door. I tried stepping outside the toilet but nothing. After about three minutes of random movements and gesticulations I decided I should resort to my previous plan and to go and ask someone. I stepped outside the toilet for the second time and again, at that exact moment the door closed behind me. I stood there, half paralysed by wonderment and toilet-related desperation. “Surely”, I thought, “you didn’t have to step outside the toilet in order for the door to close, otherwise you’d have to devise an elaborate system whereby two people enter the toilet and one steps out for the door to close so that the other can use the facilities”. But perhaps this was the system. In spite of my desperation, I was intrigued to discover if my theory was correct. I had embarked on this mission alone and I would complete it alone. I blocked out my physical need, using a special technique taught to me by a shaman who had bladder problems, and mentally prepared myself to execute my master plan.

I pressed the open button and entered the toilet. I readied myself. I would have to be quick. My plan was to quickly step out of the toilet and then to quickly step back in again so that I would trick the senser into closing the door behind me, leaving me inside the toilet. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the toilet and quickly re-entered. But the door remained open. I tried again but the door remained open. I stood there aghast, my desperation for the toilet resurfacing. Perhaps I should ask for help after all. But I was just about to step outside the toilet when the door miraculously closed behind me.

So now I was in the toilet. I was conscious of the fact that the door could probably open at any minute. I had no control over this system what-so-ever. I hadn’t found a lock button and so if anyone was to press the open button, the door would slide open revealing a sight that many have longed to see but few have seen. I went about my business and promptly rose. My relief lasted for approximately five seconds. I had successfully gone to the toilet, at last. Mission complete … apart from the fact that I had no idea how to open the door and exit the damn thing. I searched around again for a button but alas, nothing. Again, I located the baby changing sign, the taps, soap dispenser and flush. I found the emergency button, but nothing else. Should I press the emergency button. Was it an emergency? Had it reached the emergency stage yet? My finger hovered over the button. What would happen if I pressed the button? Would the door just open, would a light go off in a room somewhere and someone come to the rescue? Or would alarms sound? I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, that would be embarrassing. Or even worse, perhaps the whole train would stop. Then what would happen? What if there was another train a little way off behind us and the message didn’t reach that other train in time, causing the train to collide into our train and killing everyone on board the two vehicles. Then they would have to facilitate a detailed investigation. Perhaps people would assume I was carrying out an elaborate terrorist attack. Then I would become an icon, a role-model for terrorists and perhaps a spate of suicide train toilet attacks would start occurring and it would all be my fault!!! … Hmmm, best not press the emergency button then. “OK” I thought. “Let’s be logical about this. The toilet door closed on three occasions after three minutes of being stood open. It can’t have been my movements and gesticulations at all. There was no senser. It must work on a timer. After three minutes of the door standing open it would close. So, perhaps the same thing would happen when the toilet was closed. If I waited for a few more minutes then maybe the toilet door would open automatically. I hadn’t locked it, so the system would assume that there was no one in the toilet and open the door”. This seemed to possess a miniscule amount of logic and so I stood there, waiting to see if it would prove correct or not. After five minutes I began to assume not. I then realised that the train was due to stop at my destination in fifteen minutes. I had less than fifteen minutes to get out of the toilet. After that I think the carriages split, sending one half of the train to one end of the country and the other half to the other end of the country. If I didn’t think of something soon the ramifications could be terrible. I had walked down a number of carriages to get to the toilet and I couldn’t be sure that I wasn’t in the other set of carriages to where my luggage was sitting. This was getting worse. If I didn’t get out of the toilet soon I would be heading to the other end of the country while my luggage travelled in the opposite direction. Then, eventually I would be discovered and knowing my luck they’d charge me for the extra part of the journey. Then they’d probably charge me for the journey that my luggage made to the other end of the country. Then they’d probably say I had to get another train to the other end of the country to pick up my luggage, and they’d probably charge me for that journey too. Then I’d have to pay to get back on the train with my luggage and finally get off at the stop I had intended to get off at originally.

Time was running out. So what to do? The emergency button was not an option. Paying for three extra cross-country train journeys and spending hours standing in a loo was still preferable to being branded a train toilet terrorist. There was no point banging on the door or shouting for help. The train was quite loud and I doubted that anyone would hear. Besides, that would have been embarrassing and I wouldn’t want the paparazzi getting a hold of the story. You’ve really got to think of these things when you’re an A-list celebrity. Then the idea hit me. I would find the number of the train company or my train station using one of the directory enquiry numbers – I’m sure
Maureen would understand- and then I’d ring and explain the situation. Someone would notify someone on the train and I’d be let out discretely, and as long as I gave a healthy tip to my rescuer, the story wouldn’t get leaked to the press. It seemed the only way, my only hope. I had ten minutes to carry out this plan before I missed my stop and the carriages split, sending me and my luggage hurtling away from each other at great speed to opposite ends of the country. I took my phone from my pocket and prepared to dial the lovely Maureen, when the toilet door opened to reveal a lady standing before me. I think she was a bit taken aback by my presence and my immense gratitude. She had rescued me from the toilet inadvertently. She was merely an ordinary passenger going to use the toilet but to me she was my knight in shining armour, or should that be, knight in shiting armour! Hahahahahahahaaa! Get it?

So, once more I was a free man. I celebrated by walking down the train, picking up my luggage and successfully getting off at my stop, but before I turned away from the woman who had just entered the toilet behind me, I saw the woman disappear from view as the toilet door promptly closed behind her, without any fuss. I resisted the urge to wait outside for her to re-emerge from the toilet so that I could ask her how on earth she managed to fathom out the elaborate, complex door system. Something’s are best left unanswered. I probably wouldn’t be able to comprehend the complexity of the procedure anyway. In fact, she probably only knew what to do because she was a member of staff. I bet she had to attend a six week training course before she dared brave the toilet. I tried in vain to reassure myself with this facile thought as I headed home with my tail between my legs, though this isn’t unusual as my tail is always between my legs but anyway …

and so, I dedicate this blog post to my rescuer. Thank you!!!

P.S. this is my first bog post. I hope you enjoyed it. Don’t feel obliged to comment and tell me if you didn’t.

Byeeeeee!

It’s that time again! What do you mean, what time?! Time for the southside Podcast, obviously! I really enjoyed making this one, which I suppose might suggest as if normally I’m in a state of depression during the recording of a podcast which is totally untrue – it’s more like a deep, agonising catatonia. However, this week’s podcast I think is especially good. Here is the description:

“This week: Data protection law, icecream and PR. Last week was national icecream week and to celebrate, Southside spoke to Mr icecream Matt O’Connor about some of the stranger types of icecream on the market and revealed some unusual, icecream related statistics. There’s also a special, exclusive to the Southside Podcast, icecream joke. How do icecream men move? Find out by listening to this week’s podcast. The icecream theme continues with Taylor Herring PR who are responsible for flying Italian opera singer Marcello Bedoni from Italy to a field in England to perform for a herd of cows all in the name of icecream. We find out why and hear about some of the crazy stunts that PR companies have devised to promote their projects, including sailing an iceberg down the Thames and landing a spaceship in Lester Square. There’s no mention of icecream in our discussion with solicitor Susan Singleton about data protection law, although given enough time and money I’m sure we’d be able to manufacture some kind of semi-plausible link. Take heed radio presenters one and all as podcast presenter David Eagle provides some ideas for revolutionary radio features as well as helping out a fellow colleague devise the perfect promo. So “pod on” (Ludwig van Beethoven style) to the 88th Southside Podcast.”

Anyway, I better post this before I fall asleep at my computer, plus I know you’ll all be so keen to
download the podcast that you’re probably unable to properly concentrate on reading any more bloggage and so I’ll leave you for the time being and return when I’m feeling more creative and less tired.

Byezzzzzzzzzz

P.S. I think this must be the shortest blog post I’ve done so far. Wow! What an achievement!

On the
87th Southside Podcast, I was talking about badly written radio adverts. I probably have a whole host of cringe worthy commercials in the archives, although sadly most of them were probably created by me.

In 2008 – if you can remember that far back – I applied for a full-time creative writing position. It was at a major commercials production company in London. I new it was a long shot but I applied anyway. I mean in certain cases a long shot is just what you need, especially if you’re using a long range fire arm such as the .308 Winchester calibre or perhaps a Serbu .50BFG – at least that’s what fifteen minutes of pointless time-wasting internet research revealed. Anyway I didn’t get the job (hence the fact that I have time to fribble away on the internet researching long-range fire-arms simply to support a feeble joke). So that perhaps gives the following rant a little bit of perspective. Following this rejection, I started feverishly going through the commercial radio stations hunting for adverts, trying to find the Holy Grale of advertising, the secret formula to success. When I found a station playing some adverts I would turn the volume up and pace up and down the room, often muttering under my breath about the shoddiness of the writing, the acting or production work. ON occasion – if there was a particularly bad advert and if I was in a particularly bad mood – I would start shouting at the radio, as if addressing the creators of the advert. One day, I heard an advert that made my blood boil. With hindsight, the advert isn’t as bad as I make it out to be on the recording, but I remember being in a very bad mood that day and so (rather than keeping my geeky thoughts to myself) I began to rant about it on a podcast; I say “geeky” because this clip sees me shouting at the creators of a forty second advert, claiming that there are plot holes and that the narrative doesn’t follow. I except that this clip may not be the funniest and most clever thing I’ve ever put up on here but I’m sure some of you will enjoy it simply to hear someone getting so worked up over a forty second advert. If you listen to this clip and then imagine lots of maniacal stuttering, swearing and agitated floor pacing then you’ve got a worryingly accurate depiction of a general day-in-the-life of David Eagle.

Anyway you can download this rant
here.
Well I’ll leave you to enjoy the clip, safe in the knowledge that I’ve successfully manage to post another blog entry that brings further attention to my insanity and dysfunctional way of living. I’m off now to bathe myself in a bath of baked beans, before retiring for the evening to my kennel at the bottom of the garden.

Byeeeee!

P.S. I feel very sorry for ‘Jamies Tiles’, who are the company that this advert is advertising. But don’t worry, I’ll give you some quality advertising for free.
Jamies Tiles! Jamies Tiles! look Here it’s Jamies Tiles!!! There you go. ‘Jamies Tiles’. They’ll probably sell out within a few minutes now. And if you go along to a ‘Jamies Tiles’ store and buy some tiles, then why not tell them that David eagle sent you, and receive a free … blank, confused, disinterested look by an ambivalent shop assistant.

Byeeee!

I’ve been sitting at the computer for ages, wondering how to start this post. The problem is that I’ve been away and haven’t written for so long that I feel I should really consider my re-entrance on to the blogging scene. Should it be apologetic? Should I try and manufacture some excuses for why I’ve been away for so long? But I assumed that you wouldn’t be taken in by the line “the dog ate my blog post” and so thought better of it. Should it be dramatic? Factual? Fictional? After a serious amount of head scratching, I still hadn’t decided on how to open this post. Then I thought it might be a good idea to stop scratching my head and actually start thinking about how to start this post. Hahahahahah!

I was slightly concerned today when logging on to my blog that the entire blogosphere may have collapsed due to my neglect. The powers that control these things may have just decided that if David Eagle wasn’t going to be gracing the blogosphere with his presence anymore then the blogosphere might as well not exist. However I suppose that this works under the assumption that there is some form of sentient force controlling things whereas current popular opinion is that it’s actually all to do with sciency type stuff. Of course the most prevalent concept is that the blogosphere, along with the worldwide web and the many other worlds in the computerverse including terry Pratchett’s ‘Disc World’ and of course ‘PC World’ all came in to happening due to the big boot. Recently, a group of computer geeks tried to recreate the effects of the big boot by standing at different sides of a room and hurling computers into each other repeatedly and at great speed. Sadly, all that happened was a major expenses bill, a load of broken computers on the floor and a few computer geeks with fractured limbs and sore muscles.

In the end I didn’t come up with anything special as a way of starting and so I just decided to write and see what happened. And that is what happened. I was about to post a blog last week about the 87th
‘Southside Podcast’ which is now available to
download but unfortunately, for the first time, I was asked to remove it because of some inflammatory material I had been guilty of including. I was also called into a meeting to discuss what I had done and to have my bottom smacked. I attended this meeting and indeed we discussed what I had done although I was disappointed to discover that the bottom smacking was not meant in a literal sense and to be honest was probably only used as a device to get me to attend the meeting. Maybe next time. I therefore didn’t post last week because I didn’t want to write anything I would later regret and so thought it wise to wait until the situation had been tempered and then write something this week that I’ll later regret. I have been asked not to elaborate on what inflammatory things I said and so yet again (like with so many things in this blog) I’m not able to give any details. I will however mention one of the things that someone complained about which may give the whole thing some perspective. I haven’t been given permission to do this and so yet again I maybe crossing the line. OK, to be honest, I’m just doing this for the bottom smack.

There was a complaint about the following quote I made on the podcast. I will quote it exactly word-for-word. If you have a heart condition or any medical problems then you may wish to consult some kind of expert before reading. And now, the quote:

“Anyway, you might be able to tell – listeners – especially the ladies and the homosexuals among you, that my voice is sounding a little more sexy than usual.”

That was it. The complaint was that a listener found it offensive because I mentioned the word “homosexual” and the listener’s son was gay. It is never my intention to offend and if I have done so then of course I apologise but in all seriousness I am confused as to what the offence was. Is it offensive simply to mention the word “homosexuals”/ And if so, why? If anything, I would have thought the listener would have been more entitled to have complained if I had failed to mention homosexuals as they could have argued I had deliberately alienated a section of society. In this case, I could argue I was being all-inclusive, acknowledging (without any undue elaboration) that the world isn’t one-dimensional and that there was a likelihood that ladies and homosexuals may have found my voice a little more sexy today. In reality, the brutal truth is that neither groups are attracted to me. So using the same argument, the same listener (who was a lady) could have complained that she felt insulted by my use of the word “ladies”, or a male listener could have complained for me mentioning the word “ladies” because his wife happened to be a lady. If anyone sees this differently feel free to leave a comment and I’ll try to reply to you without mentioning gender, race, class or species. At least she didn’t point out my incorrect comparative use, as I should have said “Sexier” as opposed to “more sexy”. If she’d mentioned that then I might never have broadcasted again. Incidentally, if you’re wondering why my voice might have been sounding sexier than usual, it was because my microphone has been fixed. Great news for the voice over world. I know you’ve all been holding back work simply because you knew my mic was broken but now the floodgates can be opened once more. Hurrah!

Before I move on from this subject, I must mention that I accepted the initial complaint that was made about the podcast and understood how a number of people would have found it offensive. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was being self-righteous or strong-headed about this. Unfortunately I can’t tell you what it was I actually said, and although you might be getting excited about finding out by
downloading the podcast, I’m afraid the offending item has been removed. You’ll also be pleased to hear that this week’s podcast does not contain the word “homosexuals” so it’s safe to listen if you’re a homophobe.

So you’re probably wondering what the point in listening might be. Well, I can assure you that this week’s podcast is excellent in spite of the omissions. Here is the description which you’ll be pleased to hear was written by a genderless, classless, colourless, shapeless thing:

“This week, the theme is literature. We speak with three authors; historian Max Arthur about the British Dambuster operation of World War II. We discuss John
Boyne’s World War II novel ‘the Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’ with the author himself along with his new book ‘the House of Special Purpose’. Author, athlete
and model Amy Bohan talks about her autobiographical book ‘Take a Girl like Me’. As well as discussions with these three authors, there’s audio extracts
from the respective books.”

One last time. The link to download is
this.

P.S. I’ve got loads to update you on. Last week I was gigging all over the place with
‘The Young’uns’ and I’ve got loads of stories. I’ll decide what to include on shows and what to include on the blog and whether or not I can get away with uploading the various incriminating videos I have.

Byeeeeee!

I saw Britain’s Got talent for the first time last weekend. I’m not really sure how I’d managed to get through life before that point but somehow I did. It wasn’t by my own choosing that I watched it I hasten to add. It was one of those moments where I was with a group of people and rather than enduring meaningless conversation with each other it was decided that we should watch the Crème de la crème of British talent with hilarious witticisms from the world’s greatest double act ant and dec amidst ingenious put downs from Simon Cowell that would make even Anne Robinson wince.

What unnerved me the most though was the sheer obstinence and indignation of some of the people who were showcased. If you’ve never seen it before – stay strong – they show a clip of the person talking about themselves before they go on to perform in front of the live audiences and judging panel. There were a lot of overly-confident people. I love confident people. I have a lot of respect for people who can defy the critics and obstacles and go on to achieve great things in spite of anything. I am inspired by the stories of successful people who came from nothing and fought their way to the top. As someone who is attempting to harbour such confidence so that I can succeed in achieving what I want to achieve, I find other people’s stories of triumph in the face of adversity encouraging. I believe I have the ability, and so the only thing that is stopping me from achieving world domination is confidence. That’s what I used to believe, until I saw Britain’s Got Talent. Then I saw the other side of the coin (a coin that is obviously rapidly decreasing in terms of economic worth.).

There was one woman in particular who unnerved me. In her pre-performance interview she explained that she was a great and undiscovered singer. She went on to say that she was 100% certain that she could win the whole competition. She hated people who were signed on the basis of their appearance as opposed to their musical ability. “If people can’t sing then they shouldn’t be making music”. So she must be really good right? She has the confidence, the ambition. She talks the talk so surely she must sing the sing? She strides on to the stage and starts telling Simon Cowell how wonderful she is. She seems to have the audience on her side. So, all she needs to do now is sing and they’ll probably terminate the whole competition and make her ambassador for music, yes? … No! She opens her mouth (a good technique to employ if you’re a singer. You can have that nugget of information for free as I’m feeling generous) and then she starts to sing, although I use that word loosely. Immediately the crowd start chanting “off, off, off” and one of the judges buzzes. She shouts at the judge who buzzes and yells at the sound people to start the song again. Normally what happens is that the person continues when a judge buzzes until all three judges buzz and then they must stop. She starts to sing again from the beginning of the song and immediately another judge buzzes. Again, she demands that the song be restarted. The crowd renew their chants of “off, off, off!” and the woman (still seemingly as confident as ever) yells at the crowd to shut up. The song is again restarted and this time she gets through a whole verse of the song and half way through the chorus (sounding dreadful) before the third judge buzzes. She refused to accept the three judges’ criticisms of her singing. She accused the judges of not giving her a chance and then proceeded to blame it on the backing track and the type of microphone. She was still just as adamant of her ability in spite of the judges and the audience’s reaction and unanimous verdict. Suddenly, I started to re-evaluate my whole idea of obtaining success. I had always used other people’s self-confidence as a catalyst to fuel my own and to convince myself that I can prove to others that I am as good as I believe myself to be. But then Britain’s Got Talent changed all that. If the woman had managed to delude herself of her ability (in spite of mass-criticism) then so could I. Maybe I am simply delusional after all. OK, I get a lot of positive feedback about what I do but still, maybe their deluded. Then, before my eye (as only my left eye deems it appropriate to function) more and more people start to appear on the program, possessing oodles of confidence but without the talent to support it. If these people can go through life thinking they have a certain amazing ability and feel they have the confidence to prove it to the world then what does that say about me? I’m nowhere nearly as certain of myself as these people are, and they certainly beat me hands down in the confidence round. And it’s not like these people are a small minority of the population. X Factor is full of such people.

So Britain’s Got Talent was a rather demoralising experience for me. Britain’s Got Talent causes me to re-evaluate my whole life philosophy. If only I could be as clever and witty as Ant and Dec.

Before I go, I’ve got to share this with you. It was something really funny that Simon Cowell said on last week’s Britain’s Got Talent. There was a man who sang Lionel Richie’s ‘Hello’ rather badly and Simon buzzed and then quick as a flash said to the man. “Listen. Tell me, what’s the opposite of hello?” The answer is obviously goodbye and Simon was being really clever because he was literally telling the man goodbye but by taking the song ‘Hello’ and reversing the meaning throwing the song back in the man’s face. Hah! I wish I was as funny as Simon Cowell. In fact, if I had one wish in the world, I’d be a fusion between Ant, Dec and Simon Cowell. Wow! But alas, I’m only me.

P.S. This is kind of linked to the subject. You can download my parody of X Factor winner Leona Lewis’ ‘Bleeding Love’
here. (you see how I cleverly shoehorned that in?)
It’s also available on my
Youtube channel which is rubbish as it just consists of that song and nothing else. Also, being blind, the video is really rubbish consisting of a few pictures cobbled together and pasted in to ‘Movie Maker’. (I really know how to promote myself don’t I?) Perhaps if there’s an amazing animator or video designer reading, they might like to collaborate. We could wallow in the pit of obscurity together. Anyway, I like this version better as I added a few extra expletive beeps which I think makes it sound funnier. I don’t know what that says about my writing but anyway …

Jiga jiga jiga! Guess who’s back! Well, obviously it’s me but anyway … I was trying to be street and hip-hop. “Jiga jiga jiga! Guess who’s back” is of course from the eminem classic’ Without me’, but you knew that all ready. The
apparent definitions of “jiga” according to the
‘Urban Dictionary’ are interesting although I’m doubtful that Mr. Shady was referring to any of them when he used “jiga” in his song. Perhaps if someone reading this knows him personally then they might like to pass on my contact details so he can get back to me about this.

Anyway, I’m aware that I haven’t posted for awhile. I was planning to post a blog on Monday but obviously I was inconsolable after hearing the news of Peter Andre and Katie Price’s separation and understandably, I was rendered inactive for two days. I think I’m being amazingly brave attempting to get back to normal life so soon but I’m making the effort for my fans. Hopefully, I’ll feel emotionally stable enough to post a lengthier and more substantial blog post tomorrow but I just wanted to let you know that the 86th ’Southside Podcast’ is available to download and also to say “hi”. So: Hi, the 86th ‘Southside Podcast is available to download. (There, I did it.)

You can download it
here.
This is the description:

“This week, as we “pod on” ‘Pink Panther’ style, there’s a location report from the Harrogate Spring Flower Show which boasts the finest in horticultural comedy. We feature an interview with “Rat Man”, a Pest Control Officer who gives us an insight into his multi-faceted job. Two months ago, Claudia Lawrence, a chef from York, went missing. We hear from Martin Dales, a friend and spokesman for the Lawrence family. All that and more on this week’s Southside Podcast.”

P.S. As an addendum to
my long, ranting blog post, I did finally get a phone call back from the production company and the news was positive. It’s only a matter of time though before they read the blog post, take offence and pull the plug on the whole thing. I still can’t say what it is, but trust me, even If I could you honestly wouldn’t be remotely interested. “But that’s never stopped you before?”

Back tomorrow. I’m off to write a couple of fake love letters – one from Katie to Peter, the other from Peter to Katie. Maybe they’ll think it’s genuine and get back together again. That’s all anyone wants. The world is bad enough at the moment with swine flu, the economy and global warming without Peter and Katie breaking up. I don’t know if I can take it anymore. We need to get them to reconcile so they can get back to making quality television programs about themselves. I’ll let you know how the letters go.

P.P.S I’ve just realised that my P.S. was longer than the actual main post. How avant-garde am I?