Survived

Got through Christmas. My plan to comfort eat myself stupid worked perfectly.

Have spent most of the festive week downloading things and then transferring them to DVD and then copying the DVD's so both me & my mum have a copy. This has taken over my life. At night I think about it: What speed has it downloaded, how many re-writable discs do I have left? Can I re-download the episodes that won't burn? It's been at 93% for a long time now, has it frozen? I need my life* back.

I have to get back to Cornwall. I hate Stoke.

But what the f**K am I going to do for New Year.

Phobia of the day: Emetophobia — fear of vomiting.

* I define my own terms.

The Spirit Of Christmas

Unbelievable as it was, I was actually having a smooth train journey. Travelling back on a Friday and just before Christmas, everything had been comfortable and not too badly crowded.

But then, as I reached the final leg of my journey, and my last change at Birmingham, I yanked my case from the others in the rack, dragged it outside, checked that I had everything, and discovered I did not have any of my train tickets - part of which was my open return ticket.

People were crowding into the carriage, how was I to retrieve my ticket? I spoke to a man on the platform (a knob), he tells me to tell the train manager at the other end of the train, which is too far away and would require me to leave my case. I try to get into the carriage but the crowds won't disperse and I have to get off before the doors close.

All I have is the first part of my ticket used as bookmark in Tom Baker's Autobiography, so I can at least get all the way to Stoke. When I get there, I go to most well hidden customer service counter in the world, and plee for their help in getting a replacement ticket. But their computer system is down, the train can't be contacted, and the tickets can't be replaced because they were my responsibility. I plead with them, this is a £70 ticket, can they at least take my number and get in touch with the train when they can.

Instead, the guy there says he'll do what he's not allowed to do, write me out a replacement ticket, because it's Christmas.

Proof if any that the Christmas spirit is still alive. And that not everyone who works for Virgin trains is a w****r.

Days Of Loaded III

DAY SEVEN
Sorted and distributed the mail like a pro. Given my best job so far: I went to collect the editor’s dry-cleaning. Later I got to make a photocopy of the whole new edition of the magazine. Then I started researching kiss and tell stories for men who used to go out with famous woman. It was not a good day.

DAY EIGHT
Somehow ended up in the pub with all the writers, and found myself sat awkwardly to the editor and the deputy editor. They were talking about the editor’s friend who works for the sun, where behind the scenes the serial killer had been dubbed THE SUFFOLK-ATOR, but not even the sun was brave enough to put that on the cover.

They asked me what I was up to and I told them about how that afternoon I was going to be filling up boxes to send to the archive – I got to make the boxes in the evening. He said I ought to be doing something better (the man whose dry cleaning I collected).

DAY NINE
Helped to clear out the cupboards to help do their Christmas sale of unwanted promotional stuff. I hulked a heavy trolley to the floor below where the selection wasn’t spectacular. When what good things they had were sold, I was sent back to get the editor to empty out his office. We found a sandwich toaster, full sized Predator head and then there was this stereo. The editor didn’t want it, the features editor didn’t want it, did I want it? All ill will suddenly forgotten…

My computer password expired. While I waited for it to be renewed I asked if there was anything I could do that didn’t involve a computer. The deputy editor suggested I should go through the newspapers and try to find anything that might make a good story, and if I found anything, I could write it. My big chance had come at last!!! Unfortunately, a moment later, one of the guys from the picture desk sent me to Oxford Circus to fetch some DVDs they needed screen shots from. When I returned the computer was working again and I went back to my research into robots. Sigh.

DAY TEN
Finally got all the bloody table top game pictures and most of the desired camping gear was delivered and completed. They said they’ll post the stereo too me. They seemed genuinely pleased with me when I left, although I’m sure they say the whole ‘keep in touch’ thing to everyone. I was told to arrange a return visit with the office manager and although I’ve been pretty sarcy about it, it was worth doing and I might get trusted some new tasks if I go again. They might even let me feed the fish.

Days Of Loaded @

DAY FOUR
Day four is a blur. It involved research on Shanghai I think, and there’s a blur of elevators and floor I took things to and from.

DAY FIVE
Sorted and distributed the mail. Sent out to buy the ingredients for an expensive Christmas pudding – just for a photograph, no pudding was being made. Found out that Marks & Spensers at Marble Arch had the biggest food court but they don’t sell things like flour!!! or sugar !!! So I go to Selfridges next door where I can’t find anything cos they’re in funny places – raisins in the Mediterranean section? Still all the ingredients are not there and the Selfridges manager tells me to go to Waitrose in Marylebone high st. Is there one there? Is there fuck!!!

DAY SIX
Sorted and distributed the mail. Whisked off to Leicester Sq with one of the writers to buy a chefs hat and apron, then to his home in North London to collect some supermarket curries, then to an award winning curry house in Hackney where they were tasted by an expert. I took the photos. Then back to central London to buy an £8 curry (no rice) from Selfridges and then back to the office. As a writer I feel very proud to be getting a photographers credit in the magazine.

Days Of Loaded

DAY ONE
Sorted and distributed the mail. Got security pass. Forgot which floor was I going back to and had to go back to reception to find out. Researched the life story of Jimmy Savile. All the features team went to pub at dinner and did't come back. Had nothing to do. They sent me home early.

DAY TWO
Sorted and distributed the mail. Sent down to reception repeatedly to fetch models to the office. Sent to local newsagent to buy £40 worth of porn to help compile their porn-a-likes section. Phoned companies to try and blag free equipment for a travel adventure feature. Then compiled a list of ten table top games and the websites that sold them and then contacted each one to get a photograph. Savile unused.

DAY THREE
Sorted and distributed the mail. A nice feature writer wrote me a map of the office to show me who was who and where they were sat - this will make things much easier in future. Researched strange valentines gifts. Chased up the equipment enquiries and table games photo's - three now retrieved. May get two free backpack and might be allowed to keep one. Researched more valentines gifts - may have gone overboard. Researched the life and times of the rapper Ludacris.

Oh and I passed by the way.

The Oncoming Onset Of Panic

Tomorrow is results day. The culmination of a whole years work *

Now I know I've passed, but what about that elusive Distinction?

My current average is at 65%, so I'd need about 78 + to acheive it. So likely, it isn't. Although for my last assessment I got 68% for my portfolio and in theory it should be better this time around, it does seem unlikely. It will probably be frustratingly close...

However, this Monday I start my work placement at Loaded magazine. As you can no doubt tell from this blog and my general colossal sexual prowess that I'm right in the middle of the Loaded target audience and will make for an extremely valuable member of their team, although I do make a shit cup of coffee.

*this is my own special definition of the word 'work'

My Mother...

My mother sent me this joke the other day:

Ron the rooster was the biggest, toughest, meanest rooster in the world. He spent all his time beating up all the other animals on the farm. One day he picked on the farmyard cat. Unfortunately for the rooster, the cat beat the crap out of him, which proves NO MATTER HOW BIG THE COCK IS, A PUSSY CAN ALWAYS TAKE IT*

You just, you don’t want that from your mum, you just don’t.

I’m gonna have to have a word with her again….


*yes, she did write that in capitals.

Me + Train = Bad

One: Falmouth to Stoke-on-Trent

When my train arrived at Truro I was surprised to find that the first three carriages had all the windows blacked out and were all unavailable. It turns out that an earlier train hadn’t made it all the way down to Penzance and they’d had to get what ever train they could.

The night train.

All the passengers, this was a Friday so we are a talking a lot of passengers, had to squeeze into three first class carriages. So I spent the next two hours sat on a bike rack desperately needing the toilet because the closest one was out of order and there were dozens upon dozens of people between me and the next one. The conductor personally handed out complaints forms along with pre-paid envelopes to send them. How kind.

Two: Blythe Bridge – Sheffield.

You’d think when no matter which direction the train is going, I could still get to my destination, that I would be okay. The train toward Stoke leaves five minutes earlier than it used to so I miss that one. Then the next one, half hour later going toward Derby, is cancelled without any warning. Blythe Bridge is bus stop style station with an information point which can’t be trusted: the point said nothing about the cancelled train only that the next train to Stoke was going to be ten minutes late. It arrived twenty minutes late, a jolly hour and twenty after I arrived at the station.

Three: Stoke-on-Trent – Truro

No bad incidents but because we were taking an unusual diversionary route, they’d overestimated the time, so we waited ten minutes at Bristol and Twenty at Taunton because the train was too early!!!

I was in Sheffield to see Muse. They were understandably excellent. I stayed at a friends of a friends house, he’d given us the key but not told us about the alarm. After half hour of noise he phoned back with the code.

BUTTON UPDATE
Well my new button is still firmly fastened, I was genuinely distraught however, when the coats other button came off during my trip. DAMN IT

My Achievements

Sadly, www.bloc-online.com - the website put together by myself & my fellow, now former*, students at University College Falmouth, did not win the Guardian Student Media Award - we came second.

I also failed to win, or come runner-up, in Radio 4 sketch writing competition.

But just when I thought I was a failure...

Whilst participating in the Penryn Seven Stars pub quiz, me and my fellow teammates came across a real stinker in the picture round.

We were given a selection of pictures which represented certain phrases or words, which we had to decipher. For example:

This is Tow(e) truck






Having got almost all of them right, we found ourselves struggling on the final picture.



What on earth was the answer?

Becoming desperate, I began to scrape the barrel with suggestions like Re-cow-very or Catt-ill.

But what was the answer? Oh yes dear reader, I got it...

Music (moo-sick)

You see! I am a winner after all!!!

Of course we only came joint third on the whole scheme of things, but I was the only person who got that answer, so I rule!!!

ENFORCED AMENDMENT: I have been asked to point out that my professional writing colleague, Ruth Underwood, made a significant contribution by getting all the answer correct in a test on the sign language alphabet**

I also managed this week to successfully sow a button on my jacket. It's not the same colour as the other one but another acheivement nevertheless.

*they took away my HMV discount - bastards

** Happy now Andrew

Adventures In a Budget Hotel In Shepherds Bush

I decided to treat myself while I was in london and decided to stay in a hotel. I went onto Yell.com, found the cheapest hotel with the best customer rating and booked it. Even then it seemed too easy.

I got the Euro-Hotel in Shepherds Bush. 3.9 out of 5 and £35 a night - sounded okay.

So I get there on Friday and check in, the room doesn't have a wardrobe but it has a big double bed and lovely large bathroom with a massive bathtub.

But it's supposed to have wireless and I need to get on the net to get direction to the public records office. So I tell the guy in reception and he moves me to another room. Bad idea

I should never have excepted it but because I was being a nuissance I did and I immediatly regretted it. The room was right next to reception, in fact it was the old reception. There was a little window looking out into the lobby with a blind pulled over it.

So that night it was noisy, and the cramped little room was boiling despite having the windows open. The radiator was only warm, how could it be so hot? Of course no ones drained it in a long time, the bottom half is on full.

So I complained and got moved again. This time to a room in a different part of the building, nice room again, even has a fridge. No wireless but I just want to have a quiet room and no fuss.

The next morning there's a knock on my door at around 9:40. The boilers in my room and it needs to be turned off. Guy comes in and leaves. Then I just happen to be about in the evening relaxing and man comes in again to turn if back on.

The next day the knock comes at 8:20. Obviously this p****d me off rather a lot.

On my final night I attached the following note to my door.

To Whoever this may concern

I do not intend to be woken up

AGAIN so that someone can get to

the boiler. I have bolted this door

and do not intend to allow access

until 9:45 at the earliest. Do not

knock you will be ignored.

I was not bothered that morning and nobody came to turn it off before I left my key in the door and left. Shame really, cos it ought to have been quite a nice place.

F**k I'm not a student anymore

Last Friday something terrible and deeply shocking happened - I stopped being a student.

It was a harrowing affair. I handed in 40,000 words to an office and suddenly it was all over. My right to sit and my arse and do fuck all - gone. my ability to get a pound off shades night club in falmouth - my ability to get a pound of the falmouth arts cinema - remains as long as they continue not to check the card properly, my 10% HMV discount - fraudulantly still active.

So I had a weeks holiday to recouperate. It's hard work not working very hard.

Here is a list of things I tried to do but failed to.

London Dungeon - half term = massive queues, the book in advance fast track queue was longer than the normal queue
Cartoon Museum - couldn't find it, then it was too late to go.
Comedy Store - sold out
Photo exhibition - not running in the evening
London Film Festival - all events on that night were shite

I also went to the public hall of records to find some trial records for a radio play I hope to write.
The file I wanted, described as being 'essential to study', was of course being used. So I went back on Monday, still in use.

This has lead me to create my theory of passport photography, photograph quality depends on usage.

My provisional drivers license, my only official ID had an awful, discoloured photograph of my with DVLA written over my mouth to make me look like I have metal teeth. I have to use this card all the time. Whether as my public records card, which I will probably only ever use once again, best bloody ID photo ever taken.

Coming soon... Adventures in a budget Shepherds Bush Hotel.

Fact Fourteen

Factosis level: High (a seatbelt is advised)

The name John Doe or Jane Doe, popularly used as place holder name when the identity of an individual (often a corpse) in American, in fact originates from a legal case during the reign of Richard III

There was a legal debate 0ver the Act Of Enablement. The debate involved a hypothetical landowner John Doe and the man he leased his land to, Richard Roe, who then took the land as his own.

These names had no particular significance other than perhaps that a Doe is a female deer and that Roe is another species of deer.

The case would become a landmark in legal history and the names became commonly used as a generic standin for a person unknown.

Quote of the day: At the age of six years I wanted to be a chef. At the age of seven I wanted to be Napoleon. My ambitions have continued to grow at the same rate ever since - Salvidor Dali

Award Thingy

That student course website that I write for www.bloc-online.com has just been nominated for the guardian media award for best student website.

Well f**k me.

I of course am the person who currently holds the record for most peices submitted to the website in this award nominating year. This will be the platform on which I shall attempt to take all the credit. Not that I imagine that will get me the spare ticket that's floating around for the award ceremony.

I also entered a radio four sketch writing competition this week. The top fifty entrants get a sketch writing workshop. If I'm not in this top 50 I probably ought to finish myself off.

I just want to win something. People around my are winning things and getting jobs and I ain't got s**t. My bastard bald friend Colonel Kian Northcote even won a bloody mountain bike right in front of me the other day.

Winning thesvenhunter blog's caption competition doesn't count. I won a 1p from that!

Chuffing Charity

This book thing I was working on a while ago has arrived in book shops around Cornwall.

It's called 'We Wish' a book to raise money for the NSPCC. It's made up of kids stories (which are very good) from a competition, a great deal of the leg work having being done by myself and some of my colleagues at Falmouth College.

But are we credited for our labours?

The students of University College Falmouth get a credit. But did all of them contribute to the book? Did 4000+ students do something to help this charity. No I don't think they did, I think it was six of us writing students, 4 by the end, and a group of illustration students, who are all individually credited I should point out.

All I wanted was to pick up the book show to someone and say 'Look, there's my name. That's me, I gave my time to working hard on getting this book published. I selflessly gave my time up for it, look that's my name, see how great I am for doing this important work for no personal gain whatsoever to myself, look, that's me.'

Apparently it's selling well and raising lots of money for starving kids or something.

There's going to be christmas single to go with it, featuring local children's choirs: sick bags on standby.

Why do charity songs have to be so agonising. Just donate the cost of the single to the NSPCC rather than suffer.

Awkard

So I'm bed a few days ago, (when I say that I don't wish to suggest I haven't been in bed since I only wish to suggest that these events took place in the past) and enjoying a fantasy role playing dream, when there was a loud knock at the door, interrupting my aggressive discussion with a large mobster lizard.

Being the sensible considerate person that I am I thought f**k it I'm not getting up to answer it. But no one else did either. And they kept knocking.

So I got upto answer it but couldn't find my keys. So I went back to bed where 10 minutes later the knocking came back. Still didn't know where my keys were so I ignored it again.

Then eventually, I got up and had a shower. The girl who lives upstairs and her boyfriend arrived during that time so if this person knocks again they can answer it.

But when I'm back in my room I hear the knocking again. Can't answer it now because I'm not dressed. Obviously the girl upstairs has come on go because no one else is answering it.

The knocking carries on at regular intervals and I don't want to answer it now because they'll know I've been ignoring them. I get ready to leave, but they knock just before I go into the hall. I wait a few moments and then leave.

As I lock the door and leave someone shouts my name. It's the girl upstairs's boyfriend. He's been looking for her and knocking for ages. I say I just came home for my laptop. Is she in? I don't think so, but I'll check. After all I wouldn't be sure if she if I'd only popped back a minute.

So I go upstairs and her doors open. I knock on and hear voices and moving inside. I can see through the crack between the door and the frame.

She's in bed with another man.

She's clothed thankfully, though he has his shirt off. Whosits at the door I say. Don't let him in, she say's.

So I go back down stairs, and even though I've been a conspicously long time I say that she's not there. He reluctantly accepts and walks away.

I go the opposite direction. Which is also the opposite direction I want to be walking in.

If I'd just answered the bloody door in the first place...

Look At Me I'm Wonderful

My talents have finally been recognised, well by a small select number of people anyway.

I've made my first short film, well when I say made, I wrote it and appeared in it. It was made by myself and group of my fine, fine colleagues at university college Falmouth.

And it's rather good if I may say so myself.

And I do, frequently.

Watch it here

Quote of the day: "I intend to be a freak for the rest of my life, and I shall baffle you with cabbages and rhinoceroses in the kitchen with incessant quotations from "Now We Are Six" through the mouthpiece of Lord Snooty's giant poisoned electric head. So theeeeeere......... "

Vyvian Stanshall of the Bonzo Dog Band

The Legend of Mrs Baggit

There are many, many myths and legends that surround and take place within the rustic county of Cornwall. This is one of the lesser known, more modern legends....

Back in the early 50's, a lone widower, Mrs Irma Baggit, was bothered and rather upset about the amount of litter being left outside her little rural cottage. She would spend hours clearing up this rubbish and taking care of the dry stone walls and hedge rows. But still the litter would gather.

Then one fateful day in June she happened to catch some school children carelessly dropping the paper from their half eaten portion of chips across the road. Angrily and hastily she dashed out of her house, brandishing a broom to threaten the young boys. But she was so hasty that she did not notice the juggernaut lorry speeding down the road.

The lorry flattened her, crushing every tiny bone in her body and making an unbarable bloody mess across her precious road. She was dead.

But her spirit could not rest, not while her precious roadside was being littered. So she went away from the light and became the vengeful spirit of street cleanliness. She sought out the boys who befouled the road outside her house with their chip wrappings.

Both boys awake the next morning in extreme pain. During the night one of each of their kidneys had been removed mysteriously (she had dreamed of being a surgeon in a previous life before being supressed by the oppressive male governmental regime).

And thus the terror of Baggit began. Chewing gum leavers found the fingers nails torn out during the night. A news paper dropper found his big toes taken clean off, both unawares during the night.

To combat this wave of terror the council wisely hit upon a campaign to combat littering in which Mrs Baggit became the symbol of clean roadways across Cornwall, her smiley face appearing on signs in laybys across the whole county.

This lead to the end of the attacks but in recent years the campaign has faded into memory and been forgotten and only a few of Mrs Baggit's warning signs still exist.

Although the legend has died down we should by no means be complacent, as this group of spritely youths discovered.

This photograph sees them openly mocking the Baggit legend as afterward they had a beach barbecue and did not clean up after themselves. They awoke next day to find their arms and legs tied together with extracts of their own intestines.

So you have been warned. Don't drop litter or else the Baggit will get ya!

Quote of the day: "Anybody that's involved in a workshop and isn't a light engineer, is a twat" - Alexei Sayle.

Vengeance Sweet Vengeance

I forgot when I left my old residence to vent my spleenful of hatred, in regard to my old landlord, all over this blog.

I used to reside in pleasant, but thoroughly dull, town of a Penryn, lodging in a house with possibly one of the most small-minded and petty individuals I have ever had the misfortune of not assaulting.

A man dull enough to place under every light switch in the house a little sticker saying 'Please turn off when not in use'. A man who described in great detail to one of my housemates who she could twist the bolt and open the front door by using only one hand if she was carrying something. A man who gave us a two hour discussion on how the house was kept clean and provided with a two sided printed table of how all the tasks were variously divided up between us, with an ascent on how many he did himself.

There are many tales I could tell of this petty man. There was one time when I decided not to put the recycling from the kitchen in the bin to be collected the following morning because the bin was already full. I came to the kitchen later for my evening snack, he had placed his carbboard sign (he kept one ready in a draw) telling us we needed to take the recycling out, determined not to do it himself. So I thought f**k it and did. Ten minutes later I him, from my bedroom window, checking that I've done it right. No what was the bloody point of him making me do it if he's still going out to check??? In a sense he was right to check, I had deliberatly placed it precariously on the top in the hope it would blow away in the strong wind and he'd have to pick it up in the morning. And to top it off they didn't take it because we'd put out too much.

To stick with the recycling, I was in a rush once and tipped all my empty coke cans into the bin without crushing them. When I got back he'd crushed them himself and left them in front of the gate for me to see what he'd done and what I was supposed to do. I promptly stepped over them and left them for him to pick up, which he did.

I'd say this anal attitude was due to him having a small penis but his girlfriend is fifteen years younger than him and I hardly thinks its likely she's spends time with him for the sparkling conversation.

I tried my hardest not to leave any stone unturned when I left his residence, having been given a three page letter on the various ways I was to clean up my room. Unfortunatly there is simply no way to fight somewhat operating on such a petty, small minded, beaurocrating, patronsing level so I ended losing £30.

This wasn't a great loss and aggrovated as I was I decided to let it go. However just last week I bumped into one of my fellow housemates who had a long discussion about his deposit with this man on moving out the house, which had sent the landlord into a tantrum. Afterward he threw away all the unclaimed mail for both him and myself, which included bank statements. This is very serious and has reawakened my thirst for vengeance.

So I have decided to hit back. Not hard when it comes to such a petty man. So I'm going to inundate him with internet ordered free samples. So far I've ordered him:

A whiskers kitty starter pack.
A copy of pyschic magazine.
Free pet food samples
An information pack about 'Gut Week', which took place in August.

More will follow....

Fact Thirteen

Factosis level - medium to high
The critically panned 2005 film of 'Fantastic Four' was not actually the first film outing for the comic hereos.

In 1994, low budget film supremo Roger Corman made a low cost version of the film but despite getting a release certificate of PG and a marketing campaign of publicity poster etc the film was never released.

The exact reason why is not known. It is thought that it may have been produced as an 'aschan copy' - they produced a film so the studio could keep hold of the rights (the opinion held by Stan Lee) until it was ready to make a big budget picture

The film still remains unreleased despite rumours that it might be released with the new film DVD.

A website article http://www.teako170.com/ffmovie.html features an supposed way to get the film. This can be done by donating $20 to a charity trying to raise money for the many animal/pet victims of Hurricaine Katrina

In the Year 1995...

Sandon High School Year 7 Report for David Paul Nixon

Mathematics: Level 4 65% David works quietly but effectively and is making good progress. He works well in class and with homework but must continue to try and work on his presentation. He’s a sensitive, well-motivated and pleasant pupil.

Science: 44% David has steadily improved his contribution to class reviews over the year. He now needs to improve the presentation of his good book work.

English: 57% level 3, David is a very quiet pupil who lack confidence in his own ability. His reading is somewhat hesitant and the presentation of his work is generally untidy. He does however have plenty of ideas which he does not succeed in committing to paper.

Technology: 85% An excellent exam result which reflects David’s academic ability. His theoretical and written work have been good but he was not at all organised in his practical, in fairness this was not helped by his accident.

History: 77% David is a conscientious and hard-working boy who is a pleasure to teach. This is an excellent result for him.

Geography: 78% There has been a pleasing and steady improvement in the standard of David’s performance during the year. He has settled, avoided distractions and begun to gain confidence. His examination performance was very pleasing despite being weakened by a poor section on weather.

French: David is capable of producing some good work in French. His confidence is improving slowly and with careful checking, especially of spellings, he could be successful in this subject.

Music: 79% A good exam result. David has worked well in class and has produced some good work.

Art: 52.8% David has ability in this subject. His efforts have been somewhat erratic. Practice is essential in observational studies gained in homework and class tasks. Satifactory.

P.E.: David needs to become more involved in all activities if we are to see any distinct improvement in performance. A more determined effort is required next year.

R.E. 57% David needs to improve the both the quality and content of his written work. At times David is slow to settle but is generally making good progress.

Form Tutor Comments: David has adjusted well to school routine and is progressing well in his studies. Clearly the presentation of his work is an area that he must address.

Head teacher Comments: This report contains some very encouraging & pleasing results of which David can feel proud. I hope that he will continue to build on these successes & that he will grow in confidence. Attention needs to be given to the rules of presentation.

Pupil Comments & Action Plan: I must improve my presentation in particular. I will concentrate on my handwriting. I also could have done better in my exams if I’d revised more. Besides my presentation I think I’ve done quite well.