The other day I partook in a radio show for my college, The Blackpool Sixth Form, on Radio Lancashire.
After waiting for a quantifiable time in a crowded canteen, me and my two friends with me were informed that we were about to be interviewed in 15 minutes. When I say interview, I don't mean to mislead, but it was more like one question, move on, another question, move on - rinse and repeat.
It was during the break that Simply Red - one of the best bands ever - played on the radio. As I enjoyed the velvet tones of Mick Hucknall's voice, my phone rang.
The screen said 'Sixth Form'. 'How curious?' I mused, since I was at college already. I answered and it turned out it was just my teacher to sort out the details for a trip to London this Monday, which the college magazine had won (which I am Editor-In-Chief of BTW. Did I mention that?!?) Over the chorus of chatter in the canteen, I couldn't hear my teacher, so I told him I was in college and would be straight up.
After running there and speaking to him for around seven minutes, I began to run back to the canteen, very aware of how much time I had left. On the way, a most random event occurred. Passing through the courtyard, I heard a women call my name (first time for everything I suppose). I turn (not in that way) and see 2 ladies stood over a shoe, tugging at it and waving me over. As I approach, another 20 secconds pass. Oh, the drama!
There they were, stood over the shoe - which was a kitten heel - laughing, as the heel in question had wedged itself into the drain... Cackling, they ask for my help. Increasingly panicky about the time, I get down on one knee (again, NO!) and start to yank at it (this is getting ridiculous), but to no avail. I glance up apologetically and am taken aback when I see exactly who the women are. A music teacher from my college - 'this is the first time I've worn heels!' she cried - and my high school drama teacher.
'I wondered when you'd realise it were my Johnny' she smiled. 'Alright Miss. Gardner' I replied, completely forgetting about the radio show. Turns out, she was there to take part in a teaching course. With a new found determination at helping out an old friend, I pulled out the heel. However, as I did, not only did I bring out the heel, but the entire draining system... After a moment of realisation, the 3 of us keeled over in laughter - the danger of me being in trouble for defacing college property non-existent as, technically, I've left - it was then, I remembered about the radio show - with about two minutes left to dash back.
I told the ladies that, although it was hilarious, I had to dash, but I would have truly loved to see the outcome. I made it just in time to say my piece, but the heel in the gutter is by far more memorable...
I still don't know how this anecdote finished, but when I next walk through the courtyard, I'll be sure to see if that drain is back in place...
Saturday, 7 July 2012
Sunday, 1 July 2012
The £1 Woman
A few weeks ago, me and 2 friends, who are gay and together, went to Blackpool Gay Pride.
Needless to say it was one of the gayest experiences of my life. And that's saying something.
However, the crescendo of gayness that day came when we ventured out that evening, to the aptly named Queen Street, where all the gay bars are. On our way there, a wild woman appeared!
Intoxicated, she asked if she could borrow £1 to get home (the optimum word being 'borrow' - suggesting she is somehow going to pay a stranger back).
As I am a student and don't really have any sympathy for a drunken vagabond, the three of us merely apologised for being niggardly and went on our way.
However.
After we passed her, she then queried, which I can quote even after a month, due to it's sheer distinctiveness: 'Do any of you fellas want any business doing?'. I then told her candidly that, unless she would like to sit down and do some paperwork with me, no tar.
Me and my friends then laughed and informed her we are all gay - because, apparently, the signs weren't there...
We then continued on our merry way to Queen Street, meeting many queens of drag there.
But then I thought, £1.
I'm going back!
Needless to say it was one of the gayest experiences of my life. And that's saying something.
However, the crescendo of gayness that day came when we ventured out that evening, to the aptly named Queen Street, where all the gay bars are. On our way there, a wild woman appeared!
Intoxicated, she asked if she could borrow £1 to get home (the optimum word being 'borrow' - suggesting she is somehow going to pay a stranger back).
As I am a student and don't really have any sympathy for a drunken vagabond, the three of us merely apologised for being niggardly and went on our way.
However.
After we passed her, she then queried, which I can quote even after a month, due to it's sheer distinctiveness: 'Do any of you fellas want any business doing?'. I then told her candidly that, unless she would like to sit down and do some paperwork with me, no tar.
Me and my friends then laughed and informed her we are all gay - because, apparently, the signs weren't there...
We then continued on our merry way to Queen Street, meeting many queens of drag there.
But then I thought, £1.
I'm going back!
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
What Truth?
Lying. We all do it. But yet, no one likes being lied to. Are we all just big hypocrites. Or, if in a world where lying is normal, is it just karma biting back?
Ricky Gervais (who I loathe) released a movie a while back entitled 'The Invention Of Lying'. I (fortunately) have not had the (dis)pleasure of seeing it. But I believe it is about a world where nobody can lie, save for the character Gervais plays. All hateful biased aside, it is an interesting idea, no matter how much I dispise the lead...
Thinking about it, would you like to live a life where nobody can lie? Not even about their inner, most private thoughts. These could range from an affair to a murder, or something more mundane like what we want to eat. Or, if you are going to be completely honest, all the things that you would like to do to Cheryl Cole, but even thinking about them may get you arrested.
Jesting in bad taste aside (for now) would it really be terrible if we were all honest with each other? Sometimes it could be a good thing to tell a lie. Couldn't it? For example 'Does my bum look big in this?' asks the wife. If the husband says' yes, your bottom looks huge', then divorce may be on the cards. Whereas, if he answers 'no, it looks perfect' then everything remains hunky-dory and, without insinuating anything about gender, there may be a happy ending to the evening.
*Note, I'm not saying all women are concerned about their bums being big or that having a big bum is a bad thing.
So, a little white-lie here and there may save a marriage, while an affair may destroy it. There are two sides to this particularly deceptive coin. However, is it not up to the individual and their judgement? And, if so, who are we to judge someone elses actions?
Nobody.
Will that stop us? No. We constantly judge people. To prove that to you, I point out Susan Boyle when she first walked on that stage. We all thought 'sit down dear, we'll call the hospital to send sonmebody up. No Susan, not on the floor...'
I digest. (Digress)
One thought I've had is that we are not judging the liar on their deception. But rather on their ability to lie. After all, we wouldn't think anything about it if we believed the lie. Would we? Therefore giving the liar top marks!
BUT...
...What if you are the person being lied to. Would you rather know the truth and have, for example, doctors tell you that you will die tomorrow and be unable to stop it, but they have granted you that final chance to say good-bye to your loved ones. Or, would you prefer to be in the dark and to spontaniously die, without having to worry yourself about it?
Obviously, we would all prefer not to die full-stop and I am using extreme hyperbole here. I assume it would be personal preferance, but I would prefer to say good-bye. Especially to my Mum, right after I've updated my Facebook status...
All in all, lying is bad, morally wrong and a sin. (Says so in the Bible, Revelation 21:8 )
But even after learning that, we will all still do it. Won't we?
If you'd like to voice your opinion on lying, this blog or anything in particular, feel free.
If you did not like this post, then have a listen to Anastacia's song 'Why'd You Lie To Me' to cheer yourself up!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJPcABsojlU&ob=av2e
Ricky Gervais (who I loathe) released a movie a while back entitled 'The Invention Of Lying'. I (fortunately) have not had the (dis)pleasure of seeing it. But I believe it is about a world where nobody can lie, save for the character Gervais plays. All hateful biased aside, it is an interesting idea, no matter how much I dispise the lead...
Thinking about it, would you like to live a life where nobody can lie? Not even about their inner, most private thoughts. These could range from an affair to a murder, or something more mundane like what we want to eat. Or, if you are going to be completely honest, all the things that you would like to do to Cheryl Cole, but even thinking about them may get you arrested.
Jesting in bad taste aside (for now) would it really be terrible if we were all honest with each other? Sometimes it could be a good thing to tell a lie. Couldn't it? For example 'Does my bum look big in this?' asks the wife. If the husband says' yes, your bottom looks huge', then divorce may be on the cards. Whereas, if he answers 'no, it looks perfect' then everything remains hunky-dory and, without insinuating anything about gender, there may be a happy ending to the evening.
*Note, I'm not saying all women are concerned about their bums being big or that having a big bum is a bad thing.
So, a little white-lie here and there may save a marriage, while an affair may destroy it. There are two sides to this particularly deceptive coin. However, is it not up to the individual and their judgement? And, if so, who are we to judge someone elses actions?
Nobody.
Will that stop us? No. We constantly judge people. To prove that to you, I point out Susan Boyle when she first walked on that stage. We all thought 'sit down dear, we'll call the hospital to send sonmebody up. No Susan, not on the floor...'
I digest. (Digress)
One thought I've had is that we are not judging the liar on their deception. But rather on their ability to lie. After all, we wouldn't think anything about it if we believed the lie. Would we? Therefore giving the liar top marks!
BUT...
...What if you are the person being lied to. Would you rather know the truth and have, for example, doctors tell you that you will die tomorrow and be unable to stop it, but they have granted you that final chance to say good-bye to your loved ones. Or, would you prefer to be in the dark and to spontaniously die, without having to worry yourself about it?
Obviously, we would all prefer not to die full-stop and I am using extreme hyperbole here. I assume it would be personal preferance, but I would prefer to say good-bye. Especially to my Mum, right after I've updated my Facebook status...
All in all, lying is bad, morally wrong and a sin. (Says so in the Bible, Revelation 21:8 )
But even after learning that, we will all still do it. Won't we?
If you'd like to voice your opinion on lying, this blog or anything in particular, feel free.
If you did not like this post, then have a listen to Anastacia's song 'Why'd You Lie To Me' to cheer yourself up!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJPcABsojlU&ob=av2e
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Love Thy Neighbour?
I should just warn you, when I say teenage girls in this post, I mean 14-15 years old who think they're grown up.
My next door neighbours are having a birthday party for one of their teenage girls.
Family and friends have been invited, in order to celebrate her turning 14.
I think
I only think this since I do not care nor like them, due to the fact that I'm woken randomly at night, by the sounds of shouting and screaming from the girls. Or the baby who loves crying.
I hate them.
This party wouldn't have bothered me as, I understand teenage girls etc
But this afternoon I forgot about this party, so hung out my washing to dry on the line, not later knowing the horror I was to endure upon retrieving my clean clothes.
I chose my moment, when they sang the 'Happy Birthday' song (I could hear it through the walls...) I would run out and take them down. Meaning the clothes, not take down the girls.
How was I to know they were singing it in a pitch black garden, watching me take down my underpants off the line.
I got half-way down and they stopped singing. immediately I heard the shrill voices of teenage girls addressing me. They broke into a chorus of 'Hiya Johnny!' so I turned to face them, to wave and feigned a smile.
As I turned my back the birthday girl shouted to me 'I can see your underwear Johnny!'
No shit Sherlock. We're neighbours with a low fence....
My next door neighbours are having a birthday party for one of their teenage girls.
Family and friends have been invited, in order to celebrate her turning 14.
I think
I only think this since I do not care nor like them, due to the fact that I'm woken randomly at night, by the sounds of shouting and screaming from the girls. Or the baby who loves crying.
I hate them.
This party wouldn't have bothered me as, I understand teenage girls etc
But this afternoon I forgot about this party, so hung out my washing to dry on the line, not later knowing the horror I was to endure upon retrieving my clean clothes.
I chose my moment, when they sang the 'Happy Birthday' song (I could hear it through the walls...) I would run out and take them down. Meaning the clothes, not take down the girls.
How was I to know they were singing it in a pitch black garden, watching me take down my underpants off the line.
I got half-way down and they stopped singing. immediately I heard the shrill voices of teenage girls addressing me. They broke into a chorus of 'Hiya Johnny!' so I turned to face them, to wave and feigned a smile.
As I turned my back the birthday girl shouted to me 'I can see your underwear Johnny!'
No shit Sherlock. We're neighbours with a low fence....
Monday, 22 August 2011
The Lesbian, Cometh
Earlier this year I attended an Open Day trip with college to Manchester Metropolitan University.
I personally didn't like the University and so, I very politely kept it to myself... This is a lie, I told everyone.
So here are two pictures of me and my new best friend, Carol Ann Duffy, the poet laureate.
 |
| Carol and I, looking fabulous. |
 |
| Carol (she sin't drunk) and me, doing my best to look happy |
The poet laureate means the poet who officially writes poems for a Royal occasion i.e. Will's and Kate's wedding, she penned a poem entitled Rings.
Here The Guardian covers the poem as part of a Wedding article. I think the poem is beautiful.
She can come and have a night out with me anytime.... This is not a lie.
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Heavy Metal Lover?
With the riots sweeping through the country like underage drinking, I thought it was just the right time to have a literary riot. (Hopefully sounding more logical than this seemingly pointless chaos)
Enjoy.
(Demand, not a request)
The Blackpool Metro service. A local and cost-efficient, depending on your income bracket, way of getting around Blackpool.
While I'm not one to kick up a fuss...
*Insert retort here*
...I have noticed over the last few years that their drivers seem to be a tad on the bleak side.
I mean, who wouldn't smile when they see this hurtling
round the corner...
...Unless you're driving.
Puns aside, the drivers tend to look homicidal. (A fact which may dissuade a potential passenger)
You may think this is understandable, since they deal with the general populace of our quaint *tourist resort.
*Tourist: In Blackpudlian, tourist stands for somebody engaging in a debauched activity, namely ridiculous alcohol consumption just before a wedding. Presumably stotgun.
Then, add the *tourists to the local tribes of Chavs, who have the gait of a gate, rigid and violent, while charging around with the name 'Henleys' etched into everything they wear.
...A *tourist may think that they are all indeed called Henley, since their intellect in questionable, since they have chosen to holiday in Blackpool...
So there are 2 perfectly viable reasons for the bus drivers to be depressed. But, is it a perfectly viable reason to treat the locals, who do not stand like they are facing a firing squad, with the discontent deriving from their misery?
No.
More often than not, I have received a multitude of accusative looks, based on what I can only assume, due to the correlation, is because I am a teen (and this was BEFORE the recent looting) On another instance I have been christened 'deaf and dumb' by one driver, as I could not understand a word he spoke and implored him to speak clearly. Ironically the insult was the only thing he said with clarity.
They also get paid to provide a public service. Note the word public does not differentiate between anyone, whether they wear Henleys or a suit by Guccci.
(If they are wearing a suit by Gucci, I ask why are they using a bus?)
We, as the public, are the Metro's blood. And yet, they treat us all like malcontents?
I will gladly acknowledge the fact that some of their staff are a delight to see. They are neither rude or mean, but rather polite and kind.
In fact one member of staff in particular, I do not know their name and they may not wish to have attention drawn to them, is the nicest person I have ever met. There is always a smile upon their face, they act like all the evil atrocities in this world don't exist.
I wonder, why can't all the staff be this way?
It says on their website that they're all supposed
to be "professional" which should at least imply
a smile.
Shouldn't it?
Enjoy.
(Demand, not a request)
The Blackpool Metro service. A local and cost-efficient, depending on your income bracket, way of getting around Blackpool.
While I'm not one to kick up a fuss...
*Insert retort here*
...I have noticed over the last few years that their drivers seem to be a tad on the bleak side.
round the corner...
...Unless you're driving.
Puns aside, the drivers tend to look homicidal. (A fact which may dissuade a potential passenger)
You may think this is understandable, since they deal with the general populace of our quaint *tourist resort.
*Tourist: In Blackpudlian, tourist stands for somebody engaging in a debauched activity, namely ridiculous alcohol consumption just before a wedding. Presumably stotgun.
Then, add the *tourists to the local tribes of Chavs, who have the gait of a gate, rigid and violent, while charging around with the name 'Henleys' etched into everything they wear.
...A *tourist may think that they are all indeed called Henley, since their intellect in questionable, since they have chosen to holiday in Blackpool...
So there are 2 perfectly viable reasons for the bus drivers to be depressed. But, is it a perfectly viable reason to treat the locals, who do not stand like they are facing a firing squad, with the discontent deriving from their misery?
No.
More often than not, I have received a multitude of accusative looks, based on what I can only assume, due to the correlation, is because I am a teen (and this was BEFORE the recent looting) On another instance I have been christened 'deaf and dumb' by one driver, as I could not understand a word he spoke and implored him to speak clearly. Ironically the insult was the only thing he said with clarity.
They also get paid to provide a public service. Note the word public does not differentiate between anyone, whether they wear Henleys or a suit by Guccci.
(If they are wearing a suit by Gucci, I ask why are they using a bus?)
We, as the public, are the Metro's blood. And yet, they treat us all like malcontents?
I will gladly acknowledge the fact that some of their staff are a delight to see. They are neither rude or mean, but rather polite and kind.
In fact one member of staff in particular, I do not know their name and they may not wish to have attention drawn to them, is the nicest person I have ever met. There is always a smile upon their face, they act like all the evil atrocities in this world don't exist.
I wonder, why can't all the staff be this way?
It says on their website that they're all supposed
to be "professional" which should at least imply
a smile.
Shouldn't it?
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Did you get my text? A.K.A. Why didn't you reply?
So you're texting a friend. So you've been doing it for the last 20 minutes. So you are getting all the latest gossip about their little life. So you sent them another message and they didn't reply. So they still haven't replied 2 days later.
What does this mean?
Do they not want to talk to you anymore? Have you suddenly grown boring to them? Have they been irritated by something you said?
Your curiosity has peaked, you simply must know why they haven't got back to you. So how do you ask them, without being rude?
If you blurt out "Why didn't you reply?" or even more abruptly demand "Well?" your friend may not stay your friend for very long. The case may unravel to be that the text never arrived, and the blame falls upon your service provider.
So, after 2 days worth of deliberation and erratic pondering, you've formulated the perfect text message that covers all possibilities, "Did you get my text?".
If the answer is no, then you can resend the unanswered text.
If the answer is yes, then they probably meant to get back to you but ultimately didn't.
They could also ignore this one as well...
It may however, be an innocent mistake like their credit has expired or they have broken their phone.
If it was any of the more 'acceptable' circumstances then surely they would have endeavored to contact you another way. (Unless the conditions were so extraordinary!)
Which begs the question, is the unresponsive 'friend' really worth the effort?
What does this mean?
Do they not want to talk to you anymore? Have you suddenly grown boring to them? Have they been irritated by something you said?
Your curiosity has peaked, you simply must know why they haven't got back to you. So how do you ask them, without being rude?
If you blurt out "Why didn't you reply?" or even more abruptly demand "Well?" your friend may not stay your friend for very long. The case may unravel to be that the text never arrived, and the blame falls upon your service provider.
So, after 2 days worth of deliberation and erratic pondering, you've formulated the perfect text message that covers all possibilities, "Did you get my text?".
If the answer is no, then you can resend the unanswered text.
If the answer is yes, then they probably meant to get back to you but ultimately didn't.
They could also ignore this one as well...
It may however, be an innocent mistake like their credit has expired or they have broken their phone.
If it was any of the more 'acceptable' circumstances then surely they would have endeavored to contact you another way. (Unless the conditions were so extraordinary!)
Which begs the question, is the unresponsive 'friend' really worth the effort?
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