Celebrity loolalikes no.5

Founder member of Metallica but kicked out for his love of the sauce (which is a laugh) before they made it; Megadeth leader; recovering alcoholic and drug-abuser; drunken IRA-endorser and all round mardy arse Dave Mustaine.

Open-leg-piano-playing, been-messing-with-my-head-since-1992 weirdo Tori Amos.

Do you want TV that would make an imbecile weep?

Has anyone seen this show, Total Wipeout? It's total and utter cack on a level with Hole in the Wall, with which I think it may bear some relationship to as they're both based on Japanese formats. I know it's supposed to be a bit of Saturday evening fluff, but come on. It features Roy Castle lookalike Richard Hammond, a man seemingly incapable of turning anything down. His performance is the very definition of 'phoned-in' as its made pretty obvious he's not there, he just does links from a studio. He's not there because it's shot in Argentina, and obviously our Richard's so busy making adverts and doing PAs that he couldn't possibly have the inconvenience of flying to South America. That bit's left to the personality vacuum - and former squeeze of no.5 in my list of irritating TV men Patrick Kielty - that is Amanda Byram.
I suppose the idea is that it's supposed to be like It's a Knockout. But whereas IAK had a little bit of charm, this is like staring into an abyss of idiocy and shame. I felt dirty after being forced to watch it and needed a bath when I returned home. Can't they show a few Tom and Jery cartoons instead?
Having said that, I've always fancied South America, so I might apply for series two. And you just know there's going to be a series two.

Anyway, what is good news is that I've caught the teaser trailers for Channel 4's Red Riding series. It's based on the Red Riding quartet of books by David Peace. I'm glad they're dramatising them because I lost interest a bit halfway through reading book two, but according to online reviews this isn't uncommon and the books hit their stride by book three. Watching the TV series might push things on a bit for me. I hope they do them justice, because I've got serious doubts about the film adaptation of Peace's The Damned United. Who knows, it might be great (and I hope it is), but Timothy Spall's playing Brian Clough's right hand man Peter Taylor, and he'd better be phenomenally good at accents as Taylor had the thickest of thick Nottingham accents. I've never heard someone born outside Notts do a convincing Notts accent. Certainly not Sean Bean.

An English Booker T and the MGs

I'm currently reading a book I love so much that I don't want it to end. I'm now on page 169 of 243, and I know that at some point this week I'm going to finish it. It's called Bad Vibes by leader of Britpop's forgotten ones The Auteurs' Luke Haines. I don't know why I call them 'forgotten ones', I only know two Auteurs songs, and a further three songs that have been touched by the hand of Luke Haines in various guises*. The thing is, I treat him a bit like XTC, I love everything I've heard that he's been involved in but have never got round to really delving in to the catalogue. Which is funny because Haines looks a bit like Andy Partridge (another man who should write a book, he's very entertaining. I once heard him call Richard Branson 'Pol Pot with a beard').

It's his biography dealing with the period of his life from 1992-1997, "Britpop's" "glory" years. What I love about the book is the way it's written in an as-it-happens style, rather like last year's excellent, and entirely fictional Kill Your Friends (another book on my highly recommended list, and it's about the same time period too). I thought I was a misanthrope, Haines really does take the misanthropic cake. It's fair to say that during the period the book deals with he pretty much hates nearly everything, including: the term 'Britpop', Brett Anderson, Damon Albarn, Camden, the Gallaghers, the drummer from Pulp, northern Britain, The Verve, Belgium, The The's Matt Johnson, Simon Day aka Tommy Cockles, Manic Street Preachers, Metallica's Kirk Hammett, music journalists, Justine Frischmann, Three Lions, the NME. And that's just off the top of my head. And certain characters in the story are only known by Haines's own nicknames, so The Auteurs' cellist is simply known as The Cellist, and their American tour manager becomes known as The Chocolate Teapot due to his vocational shortcomings.

And you can't argue with writing like this which has made me roar with laughter:

"I think I may be turning into a cunt"

"Now it's fair to say that The Verve have got a bit of a cob on"

"The [Oasis] song in question is 'Whatever'. It sounds like the fucking Rutles. It is cack."

"Radiohead were - and this is pre the band's hand-wringing-conspiracy-theorising-meta-peacenik phase - rapidly turning into that most heinous of creatures: a heavy rock outfit, fright-wig and all. One wrong turn and it would have been into the valley of the Tygers of Pan Tang for good"

"Radiohead then, this lot were certainly being prodded with the Britpop tickling stick"

In my head that last sentence manifests itself with Ken Dodd wearing a Union Jack suit - and possibly a bass drum on his chest with the word 'Britpop' written in Goodies/Spangles/Magpie-style typeface - poking Radiohead's uber-miserabalist Thom Yorke with a red, white and blue tickling stick. Discomknockerating indeed.

Anyway, read it, you won't be disappointed.

*The songs I know by Haines:

The Auteurs - Lenny Valentino

The Auteurs - Light Aircraft on Fire

Black Box Recorder - Facts of Life

Luke Haines - Off My Rocker at the Art School Bop

There's also another song of his, the lyrics inspired by the book The Damned United, called Leeds United. It was released as a single but I can't find it on You Tube, I know it exists 'cos it's on my iPod.

Underneath the Archers

I've never really liked radio drama. I think this is because when I was very small I had the trauma of listening to something called Waggoner's Walk on Radio2 every day during Pete Murray's Open House show. I don't remember much about it apart from the the way there always seemed to be a lot of whisky decanters being clinked against whisky tumblers (they certainly drank a lot down Waggoner's Walk). I found out later that the actors couldn't even be arsed to learn their lines, they used to read straight from the script. Surely the least actors can do is be bothered to learn their lines? And the sound effects always bugged me because I'd listen and think to myself - after watching radio sound effects men seemingly every week on Jim'll Fix It - 'hmmm, that's someone walking on a tray of gravel.....yeah, that's a turn-handle thing which makes a noise like the wind...okay, that's not a full-size door, it's a little mini one...and that's the someone banging a jug of water against a bathroom tumbler, they always have to bang the jug against the glass, it's the sound effects man's law...'
So imagine my shock this week when I realised that I've started listening to The Archers. I was going through the dial at work the other night looking for something to listen to and up popped The Archers. It reminds me of when Emmerdale was called Emmerdale Farm in that absolutely nothing happens. Take Wednesday night's episode, it revolved around a family making some marmalade and hilarity ensued over a jam thermometer. The other storyline was about a lad teaching, what I presume to be his girlfriend, to drive. The whole thing, despite the lack of action, is strangely listenable. I thought it was going to get a bit interesting last night, someone was waiting for the test results to come back 'all clear'. What was that, a story involving the Big C or someone with a dose of gonorrhea? No, they were waiting for test results on bovine TB. Great! I love it when you watch or listen to some kind of serial and have absolutely no clue what's going on.
But where is Ambridge? The accents are all over the shop; one character, Ruth, has an accent that's part Scot, part Geordie and part Somerset. Unless her dad moved her around a lot as a child of course.
I've also taken to listening to Front Row, which is on directly after The Archers. The thing is Mark Lawson sometimes does it and I always find my enjoyment of Mark Lawson is tempered if I can't see his big jowly chops bobbing around every time he nods his head.

I dropped off to sleep at work again yesterday. For about 15 minuted this time. I'm seriously going to find myself at the source of a creek called Shit sans paddle if I get caught. Much as I hate my tedious job I really can't afford to lose it, especially with the jobs market the way it is. Perhaps it happens because I'm ill, didn't Arthur Lowe have that sleeping illness where he'd drop off to sleep mid-conversation? Or perhaps I'm like that green iPod-wearing triangle on the BUPA ad which keeps dropping off to sleep on the way to work. Or perhaps my job's so mind-numbingly boring at the minute I can't help myself. Who knows? It needs to stop, I know that much.

One of the few upsides of working shifts means that next week I'll be leaving work while most other people are still on their lunch breaks. I think I might go to the pictures in the afternoon next week. I might go and see that Frost/Nixon, despite Miachael Sheen. It's years since I've been to the pictures on a weekday afternoon, I'll probably be the only one there. Anyone care to join me? Thought not...

Here's a song which Radcliffe and Maconie played an updated and remixed version of last night. The updated version contains the line "Just because you have a blog doesn't make you a journalist". A genius piece of work in my book.

Uke can play too

Look at that bastard. The Red Destroyer. That's what I bought with some of my birthday cash. I know it's not the smartest in the world but it'll do until I learn how to play the thing, then I'll upgrade to something like this beast. I got that one because I thought I'd support local business and got it from a shop in town and that was the only one they had, unless I wanted it in pink or turquoise. The man said I could go for lessons if I wanted but I think that just might have been an excuse to get me alone in a room to touch my bum. I daren't tell him I'd bought a tutor manual and CD off the internet.
The problem is that you tell people you have a ukulele and the following discussion always ensues:

Assorted Tosspots: "What did you get for your birthday?"
Me: after reeling off a list of presents "...and I bought myself a ukulele out of the cash"
AT: "Wo-hoa, you like George Formby then?
Me: "Not really, besides, he played a banjo ukulele..."
AT: (singing) "I'm leaning on a lampost at the corner of the street...."
Me: "...mine's a guitar ukulele..."
AT: (in George Formby voice) "He-hee, turned out nice again..."
Me: "No, no, it's not a banjo ukulele"
AT: (singing again) "...when I'm cleaning winderz..."
Me: "It's. Not. A. Fucking. Banjo. Ukulele!"
AT: "All right, calm down, Jesus, I never even go the gag in about Little sticks of Blackpool rock"
Me: "Piss off"

So, as you can see, having a ukulele isn't easy, it's tossers at every twitch and turn.
Mind you, if it's good in enough for Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot, it's good enough for me. Who knows, one day I may be good enough to join this excellent set up, and perform this little heartbreaker at The Albert Hall.

In other news, I notice that yesterday was 'the most historic day in the world ever'. That is the most historic day in the world ever since he got elected last November. The thing is, what if Obama's rubbish? How many disappointed people in the world are there going to be? It seems like a lifetime ago now that we had our own massive disappointment. Anyone remember May 1st 1997?
I was talking to my gig-going chum about the inauguration last night, he told me that security was so tight that "they've had to call in the Home Guard". I can just imagine a portly old gentleman asking to be excused because he needed the toilet and could he not have to stand for so long because his gout was playing up. Gig-going chum's that daft that when I told him I had a uke, he thought it was the hot new Xbox game. "Oh, I thought it was like Guitar Hero but for ukuleles" he droned. Yeah, Ukulele Hero, you numpty. Mind you, I'd buy it...

The most historic thing for me yesterday was that Derby County got knocked out of the Carling Cup. How unfortunate for them that they're going to get knocked out of two cup competitions in the same week.
Oh, and I dropped off to sleep at work yesterday. I just thought I'd close my eyes for a few moments. Next thing it's five minutes later. That's the power of Steve Wright in the Afternoon for you playing shedloads of patriotic American music. If I'd been caught I think I'd have been in rather a lot of bother. They should give me more to do, shouldn't they?

Here is the news

Have you seen the news recently? I mean have you seen the news recently? What's happened to it? It's turned into The Day Today. I say this because I watched last night's 10 O'Clock news on BBC1 with my jaw on the floor. This style of news presenting must have slowly crept up on me and last night tapped me on the shoulder, or I've been watching the news like a cabbage for the past few years (I'd go for the latter if I were you).
For a start, I said a few months ago that Robert Peston looked like David Tennant. Well it would seem that he wants some acting work too. He was on last night banging on about the government giving banks loads more of our cash, and he was completely over the top all the way through, like someone desperately trying to impress a casting director. He loves dishing out not very good news, in fact, I reckon it gives him an erection.
Then we moved onto the not very exciting news that Ken Clarke's moving to the Tory front bench (well, not very exciting when you consider that it's been on the cards for weeks. But very exciting if, like me, you're a Ken Clarke fan, email me for details). This warranted that slaphead Nick Robinson to talk to the studio live from Millbank Tower? Why? a)I thought Millbank was Labour's head office b) why did he need to go there to do his bit to studio and c)was there any need for a chat to studio?
So I propose some changes to TV news:

• Stop all rolling 24 hour news channels. They're not needed and they're all about padding. Who watches them anyway? If people need to see the news headlines then use Ceefax.


• Go back to one newsreader to sit behind a desk reading the news with a few filmed reports where necessary.


• Stop Robert Peston.


• Put Susanna Reid on the 10 O'Clock news because she makes me go all funny. And she has a twinkle in her eye that lets us know that she's thinking what we're thinking.


• Stop over complicating it. I once heard a journalist talking, can't remember who it was, but he said that when at journalism training school they teach you how to do a 'breaking' news report in six words. eg "Goole: Train crash. Many feared dead." That'll do. Why worry us with the details?

Those bastards should put me in charge.

Oh, and while on the subject of last night's news, they showed Springsteen and a gospel choir playing at some party at the Washington monument. It was supposed to be a celebration. Not with that worthy bastard there it wasn't. If I was Obama I'd be asking where The Temptations were with their matching suits, co-ordinated dance routines and cracking Motown numbers. And to top it all I'd have had a huge party cake wheeled on with Tina Turner jumping out in a tiny frock singing Proud Mary or Nutbush City Limits with an all-star band, including the now obigatory Jimmy Page and Ringo Starr, backing her. Now that's a party. Not "Mary got pregnant and I couldn't find a job so we lived in a trailer yada yada yada".

By the way, I was in The National Gallery yesterday. Yeah, get me. If you've never been before, pop along, it's ace. It's like a Greatest Hits of painting. It's free to get in and you could quite easily spend a day in there if you wanted. It's got all the hits: The Sunflowers! Water Lilies! The Fighting Temeraire! The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and Saint John the Baptist! Anyway, I don't pretend to be any kind of great art expert - although I love galleries - but there does come a time in every trip to a gallery where I start stroking my chin. I love the way you can get right up to paintings and look at the brushstrokes and know that Da Vinci or Van Gogh had been standing in front of that canvas too. I was just about to enter chin-stroking mode while looking at the detail on a boy's hat in Seurat's Bathers at Asnières, when I became aware of a woman's presence at the side of me. I was just lost in the detail when she shouted "Will you please stop picking your nose!" I thought she was talking to me and immediately put my hands in my pockets. Turns out she had a small child on the other side. Took me right out of chin-stroking mode, that did. Thank God.

The good thing about London is that it's good for celebrity-spotting. I'm thinking of ringing the 3 AM girls Spotted! section in the Mirror. But I'll share it with you: Spotted! Buzzcocks' host Simon Amstell walking in the front door of the National Theatre. Spotted! Bradley Walsh in the audience for Oliver! Okay, neither are that impressive but when I told my mother about Amstell she said "You should have told him to stop being so bloody cheeky."

More random stuff

Is this man, Hardeep Singh Kohli, the most annoying man on British television? I think so. I'm getting fed-up of his I'm-trying-to-look-and-sound-slightly-bored-with-this routine nearly every fucking night on The One Show. He's not funny, even though he thinks he's a scream. And if I hear him say 'Hardeep is your love' once more then I'm going to call the constabulary; yes, it probably was slightly amusing the first time he thought of it, but we've heard it so many times. One of the Bee Gees is on The One Show tonight so it'll be 'Hardeep is your love' overload. I even gather it's the name of his column in a Scottish newspaper. He threw a complete mard on Celebrity Apprentice and he looks like the sort of person who runs into a kilt at any opportunity. Fuck off.

Shame, because I quite like his brother.

A couple of redundancies were announced at work this week. Now I don't mean to cast aspersions on the management, but I hope they're not using the recession as a means of lopping off a bit of dead wood. They can use that as an excuse for getting rid of anyone, can't they? I say that because they're both not very good at their jobs, for which they get paid rather a lot.

I don't mean to make light of redundancy, it's horrible, but it'd be even worse in my job because every time the management want to communicate to the staff they do so on notices printed with the font Comic Sans. I hate Comic Sans. Why's it called that? It's never made me laugh. And how would you feel if you got your notice in Comic Sans? I'd rather get it in Dingbats.

The notices on the noticeboard are all printed in Comic Sans. eg: "It's been brought to management's attention that there is graffiti in the male toilets. The company WILL NOT accept graffiti or the defacing of company property. Please note that any member of staff caught leaving graffiti will face disciplinary action". All in Comic Sans. How are we supposed to take that seriously? You'd expect it to read, in Comic Sans "Some twat's have been drawing their knobs on the bog walls again. Please stop as the drawings are quite obviously not to scale."

Another thing, the latest TV ad for Microsoft Windows - where people stand around going "I'm a PC" - has the tagline at the end "Upload yourself". Which sounds to me like an insult, like a cross between "up yours" and "go fuck yourself." So, upload yourself, Microsoft.