It was to have been soooooo simple. A meet with Missie K to set the world to rights. I had booked a discreeet table in a top Glasgow City Centre eatery – or Pret-a-Manger as some of you may know it. The hot chocolates had been ordered and calm was about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world, but dear listener, I had made that basic of all basic errors.

I had sat with my back to the door. I had played the Wild Bill Hickock card and lost. Like Bill.

Bill was a well known Wild West frontiersman, sheriff, gambler and drinker and followed loose women and wild buffalo……. (okay. Let’s get the Clatty Pat’s gag out of the way)…and was a real showman. In one of my many previous existences (or was it a parallel universe?) I think I handed out flyers for Wild Bill and his show when it came to Glasgow in 1892…….. (or was that my elderly alter ego?) See below for details.

http://www.tnais.com/bbis/1891.html

I was certainly there that fateful day when Bill sat down for a game of poker in the Number Ten Saloon  (how weird…my favest drinking place in Glasgow City Centre is Bar Ten) in Deadwood, Dakota.  It is said that Bill sat where he could see the door altho’ me, being pedantic, think he was actually watching the people who came in. One day a rotten, no-good, stinking varmint, said to Bill that he had a cold and would Bill mind swopping seats with him.  

Seconds later Bill was shot, dead, in the back.

Suddenly Pret-a-Manger should be seen in a totally new light. (A quick word with study buddie, Fi, if I may……..see how I return to something you’ve already forgotten about?)

No. Basically what happened was that it was cold by the door and Missie K and I moved seats. It was then that I did a very manly thing. Unusual for me, I know. (I have this urge to buy and wear eye-liner. Black). There was a significant weight difference in my jacket. My wallet was no longer there. We re-traced my steps to a sports emporium where I had purchased a replica Partick Thistle strip for a four year old’s birthday in February, only seconds before the club sponsor announced they were having financial problems. But no. (and Very Happy Birthday, Missie K…x….sorry for spoiling it)

Cards are cancelled and replacement ones have flooded in (except from UWS – why does that not surprise me?); an insurance claim has been submitted (I often carry £5,000 in cash); the police have not asked, as yet, why I carry a small mirror next to my credit cards (if I wore eye-liner, there wouldn’t be that suspicion, would there?); and the pills therein were totally legitimate.

I think the biggest problem has been re-setting my payments to Facebook and Google for the ads I have for the business www.thewordprocess.net  and trying to return Strathclyde Police’s phone calls….. ‘cos it was all caught on CCTV! The blaggard had been spotted and the game is afoot. The Baker Street Irregulars are all over Irene Adler even as we speak (eh?)  and Professor Moriarty is, I’m told, wrestling with Ideal Holmes over that waterfall in Rouken Glen Park…….The Sweeney it ain’t but I will keep you posted. ‘Put your trousers on…you’re nicked!’  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYPSH4Q40y4

(Incidentally last week’s blog which had restricted publication is tagged on at the end of this)

But, finally, that has not been my entire week. A planned kinda mini mid-week break was put on hold ‘cos of illness and pestilence, but I’d like to say a big Well Done to study buddie Fi for rising from her sick bed and taking me to a place where no woman had taken me before – Tesco’s, Kilbirnie.  To the rainforestriverman for sending me what I thought was a photograph of a glass of wine but I now realise was the view from your holiday balcony; to the good Doctor W, whose attempts to take over the academic world by yomping round it are just slightly on hold; and to Son Brian, you were right about the IKEA notion……..

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? It’s taking North Ayrshire by storm

Johnt850, who was there at the Battle of the Little Big Horn but on whose side?

No I want to take a minute to update you on what’s happening over the next three months – in university terms. I, and some others, return for one day a week for classes but for three days a week for the next eleven weeks I will be out on placement in a community drugs rehabilitation unit in the Greater Easterhouse area.

It is obvious I respect all confidentialities I ever encounter in this blog. I still pay my NUJ dues and journalistic ethics are higher than those of any politician, banker or, indeed, uny lecturer. After a couple of weeks shadowing, I then do the things (under supervision) that the other workers do and hopefully support people as they begin to return to a world that many consider ‘normal’. My own addiction is that of alcohol – for others it’s over-prescription of benzodiazepines by over-enthusiastic doctors.

I obviously can’t do Tales from the Front Line for all sorts of reasons, but my motorway driving may prove to be of interest…..and if I fail to be in touch with some of you, it’s not ‘cos I’ve forgotten, it’s ‘cos those I’m working with have attracted my attention. I’m scum and I know I am (Clydebank FC chant of a few years ago)

Incidentally, ceteris paribus, me and Fi won’t be down by the schoolyard on Wednesday. We’ll be at the Royal Concert Hall celebrating one hundred years of Woody Guthrie (I was a schoolboy chum) This is he;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxiMrvDbq3s

LAST WEEK’S

When I was very young, which, given that I am 42, wasn’t that long ago, my father took me and my sis to football matches. Sometime my alter ego went to see Peterhead, then in the Highland League, at a place called Recreation Park. I got to stand with the grown-ups, which was good, ‘cos I learned a lot. And had no friends, anyway. In those days football matches started at 3 on a Saturday afternoon and the half time was ten minutes long and footballers drank cups of tea and sucked quarter oranges.

(Don’t worry. This ain’t Nick Hornsby)

Occasionally we came to the big city where football grounds were slap bang in the middle of the town surrounded by shops selling food and pubs selling beer and how often have I been that waif standing outside the pub with a bottle of cola and a packet of crisps whilst my dad and Uncle Willie nipped inside ‘just to use the toilet but there was such a long queue’……… but my thanks to the odd passer-by who let me have a sip out of their ‘bottle’………I was about ten.

Oh Happy Day(s) (when Jesus walked…Edwin Hawkins Singers and thanks to the great John Peel for playing that. Anybody got any good books about the man I haven’t read?)

Nowadays football times are dictated – sometimes indirectly – by TV companies and football stadia are created out-of-town to raise money and have big car parks and seem to be in the middle of huge retail parks and so it was that, on Friday night, me, #soulboydave and Mad Dog Rab found ourselves in Hamilton walking towards Hamilton Accies football ground (it’d have been daft going to any other football ground), thru a car park more suited to filming Spooks than anything else and surrounded by Morrison’s and Sainsburys’s and Asda, that it hit me.

I love supermarkets!!!!!!!!

There. I have said it. I have come out of the frozen foods aisle. As well as the drinks cabinet.

I’ll be honest. I’d hate to work in one. I am a voyeur. I love looking at new shelves and seeing things I’ve never seen before. I think that’s one of the reasons I’m glad I became a life-long pescatarian just over a year ago. Each supermarket is different. Take Morrison’s in Largs. What brilliant pixs of the esplanade and I did not realise that gluten free pasta was not next to pasta…….supermarket porn…..I feel a professorial chair coming on.

Can I incidentally say thanks to #soulboydave for this gag – ‘following a credit agency’s review of Sweden’s economic policy, it has been decided to downgrade its credit rating from AAA to ABBA’ – and can I express my concern for the future of Scottish comedy that Mad Dog, the new head of the Comedy Unit, laughed at that. (And to the rainforestriverman, it’s another leading Scottish indie).

Also I was told that when MI5 recruit, as they did recently at my school in Paisley, the recruitment people get app forms that say ‘I’d be very good at handing over documents in car parks cos I blend in so well’. How the hell do you practise those skills? Apart from acting out Spooks?  No. The dogging accusation against me in Airdrie was never proven. Honest. One lousy sheep and you’re tarred for life.

But speaking of supermarkets……….and thin ice………can I say a big thanks to study buddie Fi, for the day out to Largs in her charabanc, complete with dog and small boy. Lots of highlights; including being refused entry to a council car park on the grounds that we weren’t in a car, altho’ we were. This raises two questions;

Why did the machine think we were not in a car when actually we were – and it’s a big one. The car.

And why would people without cars pay to get into a car park on the front at Largs?

But finally, my thanks to Fi and the ensemble for a nice day out and to four year old J, who, when I asked if he would recommend investing in property in the Garnock Valley, said ‘NO!’; my apologies to Morrison’s for the incident with the iron brew sorbet; and I won the argument that the farm that offers rugwashes does exactly what it says on the fence. But we did pass this amazing building, which suggests that maybe we should have looked at football grounds in situ, before selling them off. It’s an old cinema, now called Radio City, with apparently a radio studio (think the RKO building)………I don’t think it does much broadcasting but seems to be more of a community centre but it must have made quite an impact on me. Cos it featured in a recent dream of mine with Bruce Springsteen and and, and….Gosh is it that the word count? Well it can all wait ‘til later.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? It’s about the only thing that supermarkets don’t sell. It came from Fopp.

Johnt850, who thinks that being a mudda is tuff enuff in itself – but wtf do I know?

So I’ve not talked about cancerly stuff for some time. Regular listeners may remember about a year ago that I mentioned two people , important to me, who were about to go through cancer treatment and both have come through their treatment without any real problems – as most people do these days. The image of the Big C should be done away with.

My own cancer remains the subject of regular checks every six months and that specific blood test remains steady at 1.1 (worry not about that figure’s meaning) but I think one of the big things I get from going to the Beatson Clinic (and not research centre but they’re doing amazing work there as well) is a reminder of how lucky I was that mine was caught – not early – but just in time.

It’s a wee bit like the fact I call myself a ‘recovered’ alcoholic and not ‘recovering’ – we can debate all we like about certain semantics but one thing I can never ever forget is the word ‘alcoholic’. An addict by any other name. Sorry. Just felt the need to say that. No. No reason.

Last week I used lyrics by Silver Apples for very good and special reasons. This is they. Yes. I’m not sure either but I reserve their right for them to be they. John Peel would.

It’s been quite strange as well in that I chose, for one of them, to write about the media’s coverage of the rave culture of the eighties and nineties and its effect on our perception of drink’n’drugs today – it all came out of a curry-based discussion with me, the rainforestriverman, Jock, Dennis and Skippy – and I devised a survey – and I’ve incorporated movie DVDs, a Radio 4 programme, Sherlock Holmes and a jolly interesting website called Fantazia…….. and yet somehow I feel it ain’t academic enuff. Can’t think why not. But it was fun to write and research and I’d like to apologise to my neighbours for blasting out Old Skool Happy Hardcore at 3 in the morning. Many times

The white coated boffin who is the Prof (notice how I’ve seamlessly upgraded from primary school to uny*) talks of thai chi means tests (sp) and random samples and so on so I think I must have slept thru his lectures – actually I had a fantasy about Katie Boyle and her saying ‘nul points’ but it was quite sordid – but I really appreciated all the help and support from my school pals. Ta. I hope I helped a little…..

• It’s spelt UNY!!!!!!  Uni is a prefix you put in front of words like cycle to indicate that it has only one wheel.

But a big word of thanks, as ever, to study buddie Fi, whose whistle stop tour of Paisley on Thursday afternoon fair took my mind off my final reading of the assignment just before I submitted it. Luckily I did read it again the next day only to discover that twice I had written ‘dugs’ instead of ‘drugs’, which actually made it a highly original piece of academic research. Post Grad Research in Drink’n’Dugs…….Actually I know people…..

I’d also like to thank Fi for ensuring that one teacher’s abiding memory of jt850 is me being called obediently to heel at 3.30 on Thursday afternoon. Maybe I was a puppy in a previous existence.

Actually, it’s a week when a few folk, okay, women have called out the name John. Which is mine. Which is good. Cos it meant I knew they were talking to me.

Sunny D – cos I was wandering in the wrong direction through (the) ASDA; e, or was it AJ mastering a very loud voice – who then very carefully guided me thru the fallen over trees in the Botanic Gardens (the good Doctor W would have been in her element with her chainsaw); and a former student who recognised me in an arty gift shop off Byres Road. I always find it interesting who they ask about and what they thought of them. And there’s one man, none of them ever liked. Well except those he felt destined for greatness……..he ignored the rest.

And I caught up with the Vampire Slayer during the week. We tend to meet in a dark, secluded location, where we can talk freely without other humans being aware of her presence. Some people might know it as Starbuck’s in the Buchanan Galleries. But she has an aura. People got up and moved from a table just as we arrived. And took their tray of cups with them. How often does that happen? Proves the power.

Reminded me of the days, L frae Troon, when I used to use the phrase temporary erectile dysfunction as soon as we entered a bar and big butch workies would gaze at their large glistening helmets, and gave us a table. Actually I don’t mean they stood up and presented us with a table. I mean they vacated one. (I was given a Christmas present of Kingsley Amis’s The King’s English. It is brilliant, isn’t it Fi?…… Fi?……. Fi?)

And this is Florence and the Machine. No. No reason.

And finally, I worked with Bob Holness. Once. He was the first ever James Bond - in a radio series in South Africa. I had an involvement in a TV quiz show called Catchword (pres Paul Coia) and he took part in a pre-recorded Christmas Special which for legal reasons (nothing to do with Bob) was never transmitted. He was a genuinely nice man who enjoyed working in TV and radio and recognised that it was a team effort. Amongst other things, I had to collect him and some others from Glasgow Airport. The plane bringing one other was late. Bob’s catchphrase that day? “I’ll go and get us all coffee, shall I?”

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Its 2012 adventures have already started. I didn’t know there were soooo many charity clothes shops in Byres Road. And the variety. And the value for money.

And all I got was one small stumpy candle. Luckily I read nothing into it. It was fun. Fun, For Fun’s Sake - FFS

Johnt850, who is still technologically in a trance from all that dance music over the last few weeks. Wow! Hope it was worth it.

So it turns out a few folk missed out on the news of Billie Jo Spears’s death which I announced in last week’s Blog Personality of the Year Awards (see last week’s blog…obvioulsy). She sang a lot of songs that some folk might think were just about socks; some might see it actually as love. Here’s another one

There is a mist which enfolds the couple (eh?) and seconds later they arrive at Glasgow’s most prestigious location – Maryhill Juniors Social Club, Lochburn Road, just behind the Job Centre. The Great and the Good have arrived. It’s Freebie Night.  People like Michelle Moan and Fat Eck Salmond have turned up cos they heard a fridge door was being opened.   

‘First of all can I welcome any new listeners to this award ceremony which is like any others with various categories and it is totally a fix from start to finish…unlike any others which shall remain nameless. Let’s be honest.

But first of all, again, can I just say, personally, for myself, me, what a spliffing year it’s been, with loads of new friends and some really amazing experiences with friends from before and all kinds of things too numerous and emotional to mention.

Great start to the year and it finished with a bang………C’mon……How many of you would have been disappointed if I’d not used that hoary old chestnut……….? Moving swiftly on…….But maybe not soooooooooooo fast.

Team of the Year was a simple choice. In September I started a new school. In Paisley. I was awfy worried about meeting new women…sorry, people…but I shouldn’t have worried. I’ve met up with a great bunch of people, including Kelly, whose three words of advice (‘Delete the nutter’) was the best I’d received in a long time. But also to so many other beautiful women like Audrey, Shirley, Jo, Sharon and sooooooooooo many others, and of course my amazing study buddie, Fi, without whom I wouldn’t have got such good marks in my first round of writing……..or barred (almost) from the library, or passively smoked so much, or………Anyway, really well deserved. So who’s going to come up and accept the award? Oh, you all are………

Three days, seven hours and twenty minutes passes with much kissing and hugging

Now, it’s time for The Lifetime Achievement Award. It goes to my sister, Sheila, who’s had an interesting year in sooooo many ways, but whilst she has had much to worry her, I’d just like to say many thanks for all her support which will continue for many years……she tells me……..Mega mega thanks.

And now to the actual Personality of the Year Awards….(fanfare of strumpets)……….Thanks for the envelopes, Skippy, and for writing some notes for me.

So I’m going to start by coming from behind….Eh? Skippy! (sotto voce) Skippy, when I say I’m doing it in reverse order, I mean…oh never mind…

In Third Place, and a late arrival on the scene, is Hurricane Bawbag, which captured the imagination of sooo many and resulted in soooooooo many ppl foning in sick to the call centres where they worked the next day.

Check out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0wm3JD9MEk This has both omg! trampoline! and the Gregg’s carrier bag!!

In Second Place is a daud of grun’ at UWS (Paisley). It’s next to the library and the under-grad café and the offices of the lecturers who spend their entire day researching drink’n’drugs. It’s next to the world’s most dangerous revolving door and is in full view of real hard working labourers on a real big building just by the multi-storey. So much has happened in that small space in such a short time. I want to dig it up and take it home with me……..

And finally, (never ending drum roll)

In First Place……is…..6 hours, 31 minutes and 34 seconds. It was the time that friend and colleague, and now the good Doctor W, took to run her first ever marathon in Embra….sorry……her first ever marathon. In Embra. I was honorary roadie and rucksack holder for the day. And was very proud. And inspired to buy my own running shoes. They were used but I failed the five minute barrier. They are back in the box.

So Doctor W, rest easy this year and enjoy. No more challenges for you. What? You are kidding? Well, it’s been some time since I’ve been to the Gay Cottagers’ Car Park in Strathclyde Country Park. Just say when. But well done to you and everyone else who took on challenges this year.

My new school pals, especially. Many of them gave up a comfort zone to do this Post Grad. I am delighted to have them in my support team, even if they didn’t realise they were being co-opted. And as friends.

The last five years have been a challenge for me and I’ve loved and learned so much. If you’re unhappy then think about making that change. But don’t think too much. Just f**king do it and stop complaining. We live in uncertain times. Enjoy them. As the song at the top says, Give Out But Don’t Give Up (Primal Scream)

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes. Cos it helps me to let the crazies run free.

Johnt850, quietly happy at the end of a good year.

Except, almost un-noticed in December, Billie Jo Spears died. This is her song about socks in the open air…eh?…Skippy, a word, please. You’re spelling is rubbish, btw….but so many thanks to so many people and one very, very special person.

My own festive preparations are done. Two essays are finished for the school and the third is started; some paid work is done; all pressies are wrapped; my latest cancer check-up is okay; and I have been to see where I will be doing my thirty-three day placement next term/trimester.

I will say little about it other than it’s a community rehabilitation unit in the far East End of Glasgow and I’m really looking forward to it. It will be a challenge.

So keeping it brief can I say some things, like thanks to Sunny D down the ASDA (thinking of the card was enuff in itself); to e, c and AJ (there’s something about Saturdays, isn’t there?); to Stewarton Gary, what was the horse?; and to study buddie, Fi for all her help with CJS referencing (which must be the unlikeliest innuendo of all time, beating by miles ‘putty in your hands’)….the burds enjoyed the garlic bread btw

Next week sees the Blog Personality of the Year Awards and a wee bit more about my own thoughts but I won’t keep you long. It’s been a jolly interesting year which has seen me visit North Ayrshire and Straiton Park’n’Ride; the gay cottagers’ car park in Strathclyde Park and being an extra lesbian in Lip Service; various football grounds all over Scotland and continued my musical indulgence in house, techno and trance; and, I suppose the biggest event of them all………my new school in Paisley. Lots of new pals there, including one very special one……….I never knew studying could be so much fun, but will the barrista in QWERTY’s ever talk to me again?

Cya, keep (ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes. ‘cos there is no reason why not.

Johnt850…happy to let sleeping dogs lie

If no-one has offended you so far, this will; oh, and Skippy says Merry Christmas to one and all as well……xx……she also says you may have to copy’n'paste this link but it’s fair dinkum when you get there……

http://www.aidanjohnmoffat.bandcamp.com/track/oh-what-a-night-before-christmas

Regular listeners will know that this will simply be a pot-pourri of Christmas cracker gags and stuff cos it’s that time of year.  When we kid on we worry about the homeless and the poor and human rights in strange parts of the world that end in -istan……..But that’s enuff sardonic satire in a post-modern ironical manner.

Q             What really annoys Santa this time of year?

A             The elf and safety officer. 

So, can I also say sorry to anyone who received a present from me with a Happy Birthday gift tag with the word ‘Birthday’ scored out and replaced by ‘Christmas’. I really thought I was well organised this year but Skippy has let me down badly. She usually preps these things for me but I blame the mulled wine (and seasonal warning…….many years ago, long before I had my own now well documented problems with alcohol, I went to a Scout Fair where Son Brian was helping out. There was nothing very good so I paid £1 for a plastic cup of mulled wine…….and dumped the car at the ASDA so well gone was I………or was I topping up? Be careful.)

Q             How many ears does Captain Kirk have?

A             Three. The right, the left and the final front ear.

But on the subject of alcohol can I say a mega thanks to all those who helped me ward off the demons last weekend? In particular, my friend and colleague, the gorgeous W, and the rainforestriverman who helped me concentrate on other things, as well as what seemed like millions of people on Facebook. To W, can I just say that sometimes the whole world seems like one giant paragraph in the middle of a Demus radio script and to the rrm, I know your role/roll in my life and it is much appreciated.

The demons did, however, have a good go later in the week. Luckily I can never remember dreams the next day but I know they tried. Really hard.

Q             What’s pink and wrinkly and hangs out your pyjamas?

A             Your mum

Oh, and following last week’s OMG Trampoline, Google (I can’t be ars*d finding the links) Bale Out, a brilliant mix by Revolucian (say that out loud…it’s brill) of Christian Bale’s hissy fit on the set of Terminator Salvation  and also Revolucian’s brill re-mix of Gerard Butler’s ‘This is Sparta’ speech in the same vein.

* It’s an ‘e’. When I say it’s an ‘e’ I don’t mean that the sole result of my attending a whole trimester at Drink’n’Drugs school in Paisley is that I can tell Tree ecstacy from Los Angeles, from Woody Woodpecker from Denver Colarado. No. The missing letter from ars*d is an ‘e’ but Es are good.

Oh and Google They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard……….What? No. I was looking over this guy’s shoulder in the school library. It was dead good what he was looking at.

Knock knock

Who’s there?

Sir Terry

Sir Terry Who?

How quickly we forget, eh?

And a quick word to study buddie Fi……..I’ve never, ever, ever been issued with a verbal warning in the corridors of Kelvingrove Art Gallery before. Certainly not for that. And there are signs prohibiting it as well. Jeeez. Will I ever be able to show my face down Park Road again? Anyway, Jack was pretty cool.

And speaking of cool kids, to AJ and his mum, e, the lights on the tree may be off but that doesn’t mean there’s no-one in.

And to Son Brian, you were right about the record collection but it wasn’t the colour of the walls but the lack of lamps…oh, and my baubles……

Ow! I’ve just poked my eye! Damn…still, I will read pop up books about giraffes. And I’ve just read some alarming statistics which suggest that six out of seven dwarves are not happy. And a mate of mine is addicted to brake fluid. When I asked him about it, he said he could stop any time. And I felt sorry for the RAC man I saw yesterday.  He was in tears. He looked as if he was heading for a breakdown.

And if any of these ever, ever offend….tell me a good alkie gag and I’ll laff at it. Mind you I used all these jokes last week at separate motivational talks for Alcoholics Anonymous and Weightwatchers, so if this is the third time you’ve heard them, you have my sympathies.

So there will be a blogette next Christmas Day. It will be a pre-recorded pot-pourri of the best of the rest of the year. And on 1^st January, at one o’clock there will be the Annual Blog Personality of the Year awards.

And finally my favourite, and possibly the most offensive of them all….

Q             What do you call a man suffering from Attention Deficit Order?

A             These are good crackers, aren’t they? Who brought them?

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes. With tinsel.

Johnt850, nicely relaxed with no credit for any cards sent out……Ho ho ho……..Merry Christmas.

I met Jimmie Macgregor the other day, a brilliant broadcaster and raconteur with whom I worked for many years. I was never, ever, ever happy with the music policy for his programme but understood the reasons for it. One year, Rhona McLeod, now a sport broadcaster but once a researcher, and I slipped this in. Quietly. Enjoy

So it won’t be a big blog. Lots of things to think about.

Mind you, Christmas cards are done and posted, the Christmas Tree is up and some Christmas shopping has been done with the help of study buddie Fi – altho’ I am responsible for all pressies bought.

Naw. I will be contacting members of my amazing support team in various ways soon time. As a couple of folk know my biggest worry was getting thru this weekend. It’s the same with cancer. They reckon if you get thru five years then you’re fine. So one down, the other to go.*

* When I say ‘to go’, I don’t mean you get the all-clear from a Chinese takeaway shop and I should point out that many other nationalities sell food. Fast.

But I just want to highlight a few names – including obviously an amazing extended family. Others include Missie K, Blondie, the Vampire Slayer, gd frnd Clr and the blogmeister- Kenny the Shed Pimp, the rainforestriverman and BBC Al and Nick – the gorgeous W – AJ, his mum, e,  and his dad, c, – L frae Troon – and my latest school chums, including study buddie Fi – and if I’ve missed you out, it’s not cos you’re not in my thoughts. That’s one of the things about writing Christmas cards – you remember ppl.

Mega thanks. I can be a very difficult person at times but the patience you’ve all shown to me – and the kindness – has been immense.

It’s also been weird writing about addiction as part of my uny Post Grad and can I say a big thanks to friend and colleague W, whose 80 thousand word PhD (quite a page turner) has helped bring me up to speed* in academic speech. She herself was recently awarded her PhD verbally which is fantastic. I am hoping for a standard grade in Drink’n’Drugs.

*And when I say ‘speed’ I obvioulsy don’t mean……..well actually it was a bit of a boost…..I’m just soooooo glad the schoool doesn’t have exams for us more experienced pupils. It’s a paragraph thang.

Actually someone asked me what you can actually see from the 3^rd Floor North part of the school library cos they’d never actually been there, after my recently actually finding it and getting lost again. Tbh, all you can actually see from there is into a multi-storey car park and nothing interesting ever happens there.

So this week’s Heroes of the Week? For ages I’d tried to work out what the graffiti was on the canal bridge over the Maryhill Road, just up from Tesco’s and past the big building that is the police station. Well, the traffic slowed and I read it.

VI-12 THIA

You’ve just got to know the world of alcoholism and recovery to appreciate that. It was inspirational. Serioulsy.

And to the female assistant in Homebase, Milngavie, I’m sorry but the lyrics of that Christmas song you had boomimg over the PA system was about a man considering suicide or over-dosing cos his boy/girlfriend* had left him. It was an observation, not a complaint.  In passing.

* And I’m not suggesting that the partner was a trannie. Or similar. Not that there’s anything wrong………

And a big well done to all those who helped us cope with Hurrican Bawbag as it’s now known in Wikipedia. STV Online, you played a blinder. Unofficially. Oh My God Trampoline follows but I can’t find the pic of the panda flying thru the Edinburgh sky.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U326Vm3XHFg

And I’d like to thank Son Brian for some recent advice but was that not the kinda thing a father should say to his son, not vice versa……..?

And to some folk who I had hoped to meet up with before Christmas but a certain amount of unwellness has entered their family….take care and we will catch up.

Next week will be a pre-Christmas Special with lots of laughs. I promise. And paragraphs.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? I get my inspiration in strange ways.

Johnt850, ‘relaxed’  is a good word……as is ‘still alive’…….except that’s two.

So no serious stuff below the line this week.

Just the other toon that has led me out of the darkness from time to time.

Pleasantries over. Clarkson moment approaching. Watch out. Irony alert! Lol :D hehehehehe

There is something about the school library which does not like me. Evidence base is as follows.

Evidence One; Study buddie Fi needs to check one thing on computer; there is one vacant computer. She logs on and I kneel down on floor. It’s a position I’ve got to know sooooo well over the years. Moving swiftly on. Instantly, quicker than the fag police outside, a man is over telling me that it’s one computer per person and that he is wearing shirt and tie and is therefore in a position of authority.  I don’t even bother but take seat upstairs and continue to look over Fi’s shoulder but from a distance. Good cleavage viewing point for the warm months. Hey, women can look down my cleavage any time. That’s all I’m saying. Lol! :D hehehehehe

Evidence Two; I normally stalk Third Floor South (Skippy. Find the Thesaurus. ‘Stalk’ might be inappropriate. Skippy, I do not want your opinion. That incident was just a misunderstanding. No. I unfriended her. No. That was different.) Anyway…..there is a Third Floor North. Books with the code number 616 live there. I ask directions from friendly Librarian lady (actually library ladies are friendly to me…..)…..and enter Third Floor North.  Alone. I find books and attempt to re-enter. Third Floor South. Not friendly……….

(and before anyone attacks me for sexist humour, it’s lifted from a James Bond movie as played by the World’s favourite Scotsman, Sean Connery, so it’s allowed)

I get lost. I walk in circles but can you walk in circles when you keep turning left and then right and the good looking young female student of a minute ago is now a fire-breathing dragon talking Spanish into her mobile Dyson air dryer……or am I panic attacking? All the doors are wired Fire Doors. Omg….am I going to have to….? And then I spot the way out……..I live to breathe another day. But not fire.

And when I say dragon, you do get some really nice looking ones……not that looks are important…….fire breathing should be judged on its merits. Not looks.

Evidence Three; I am leaving the library building wearing rucksack which is now the second entry on my list of what I’m bequeathing to ppl after my farewell gig at Maryhill Crem. Son Brian gets the house, my entire collection of Clydebank FC programmes and a rather fetching photo of a sea-lion on my bathroom wall. Actually, W, there is a choice of rucksacks…

Anyway there is a revolving door which gathers up speed when you enter it. Fi has gone on ahead. Bravely. So I make it into the next gap. Unfortunately my rucksack doesn’t. It is stuck in the gap behind. The world begins to slow down and stops revolving on its axis. Eventually both me and the rucksack make it through……..Fi is giving me that kinda withering look which usually my son gives me. Down the phone.

And whilst I’m in a kinda ‘not-happy-with-the-BBC’ mode …….the problem with the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Award is not that there are no women – there are no personalities. Lewis Hamilton? Andy Murray? The guy selling the tickets for the half-time draw at Firhill has more charisma than them……….And as for the contenders for the Blog Personality of the Year Award…..yowza! They have personality. Lots. Soz but no Lols cos it’s tru.

And finally, one of our teachers said that almost all hypotheses can be disproved except E=MC2squared. But Jeremy Clarkson, in the Sun of the other day, so it must be true, said that Einstein had got it wrong and I trust Jeremy implicitly. Don’t I? Lol! :D hehehehehe

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes. But not in the library.

Johnt850, knowing your right from your left is sooooo important, isn’t it? No. No reason.

Y’see, what Clarkson said what crass and boorish – just like him. But I’m going to defend his right to say it. Not on the grounds of Free Speech but as a defence of Post-Modern Irony. Of a sense that ppl can not now tell the difference between what is said and what is meant by what is said. Listen to it all. Feel the context. Smile the glove.

I’m sure everyone who has complained has done what I did – read the transcripts and watched the full replay. His use of those words on the Day of Action was a strongly disguised attack on the weak-kneedness of the BBC and its continual need for balance and compliance which is ruining it as a major broadcaster (Sorry BBC Al and I still owe you that drink).

But what for me summed up the rubbish that occasionally passes for broadcasting and is merely an opportunity for people to promo DVDs and shows and stuff and to give that awkwardly shaped Sarah Millilken an opportunity to ruin every panel show she appears on………was the reluctance of the two inane tw*ts on the settee to give Clarkson the slapping down he deserved at that time…..

I speak as someone who knows lots of slappers……. Lol! :D hehehehe

And I can’t believe there are people out there who have never heard of the White Stripes, who supplied the opening lyric. This is for they…….xx

No. The reason I mention that (kinda – if there’s ever a reason) is that at a very early age my alter ego cut from a newspaper (dad was very annoyed – he was reading it at the time) an article about drugs references in modern music.  It was the usual stuff – Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit, the Beatles’ Lucy in the Sky and almost anything by Bob Dylan – but it’s only in the last wee while I’ve become more aware of these things.  As in the lyrics above.

(Next week – Childrens’ TV……..more than met Zebedee’s eye..…and in a previous blog I did highlight drugs references in Thomas the Tank Engine but I am slightly worried about some of the lack of social care exhibited by local government in The Gingerbread Man and is the fox an allusion to heroin?….Skippy, my medication please….any f**king colour)

So what novelty record are you giving this Christmas?

Which reminds me. Cos Christmas Day falls on a Sunday this year and similarly New Year’s Day, the broadcast of the blog those days might be affected. Newer listeners might be unaware that there is a Christmas Special and there is also a Blog Awards ceremony with a Personality of the Year Award. Previous winners have been a glass of whisky at the Edinburgh Bookfest, a phone call from Italy from the Vampire Slayer and Missie K, and BBC Steve’s 3 year old daughter Ruby….who now comes to Partick Thistle games.

Nominations are now being invited and will be totally ignored.

Meanwhile things progress at school :) I got my first mark. For sums. And it’s 62. Out of a hundred, altho’ I’m not sure what that is as a percentage. (And my thanks to all those I’ve told like W, e, Sunny D and Liz…….must tell Jaymi….for telling me where that stands in Academia and can I just assure my friend and colleague, the gorgeous W, that no child was harmed in the making of that video)

Met up with study buddie Fi again. In the library. I sat with laptop, blackberry, loads of books and articles and a total blank screen. Writers’ block and, unlike at home, I cannot do the usual things to unblock the block – sharpen pencils, tidy t-shirts, make soup and change socks, altho’, technically there are no signs prohibiting this.

I/we were told off for talking. I tried to explain that my most recent library experience was Hillhead Library. With the Toddlers. ‘No. I’m not actually a dad. Of any of them. I was invited in by AJ.’ Bizarelly the Paisley School librarian had never heard of AJ. Nor the fact that he is celebrating his birthday, like, now. Happy Birthday and Happy Retirement (ha!) to your mum……..

Oh, and I’ve now visited Beith. It was dark. That’s all I’m saying. It’s in the country and there are pix on the road warning you that cows are about to leap out in front of you.

(And does anyone else, like me, panic when they’re driving thru the Clyde Tunnel only to see the road markings which say Stay in this Lane actually point in a different direction to the one in which you’re driving?)

But can I recommend a very nice restaurant called the Blair Tavern, Dunlop, which isn’t in Dunlop and also isn’t the very large house with the big driveway with both an entrance and exit so it wasn’t that embarrassing when we drove into it. And can I say a big thank you to the two women at the next table who moved from discussing this week’s Day of Action on behalf of the future of the public sector* to swopping mobile pix of intimate operations.  

*I think they called it something else but as other people have suggested thru Facebook et al, we have a day off to celebrate the wedding of a balding RAF officer and his burd and it’s called a holiday and a boon to the economy – people are out there defending their current terms and conditions of employment and deserve all our support.

And now they’ve changed the law of succession, what if Katie does nothing but produce boys who decide to become Roman Catholics? No. I’m not sleeping well. Why do you ask?

(Excuse me a second…the envelope icon is flashing)

And finally, and whilst saying thanks, can I say thanks to Caitlin (whose 21^st is in my dairy…..) for having an uncle Colin who treated me to lunch in a fusion restaurant called Opium (I’m a recovered addict….it was research…ok?) For those of you who know the Byres Road, it used to be the Peking Inn in Hope Street. Bizarrley (2^nd attempt at spelling it) it had two veggie options in the starters but none in the main course….bazaar.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes, and it ain’t half seeing the world……well the West of Scotland

Johnt850, a common enuff name but not a common guy.

And speaking cancerly for the first time for some time….many thanks to all those who’ve been raising money for Movember including Eric the Floodstalker, Falkirk Dougie, Sporty Paul and William the student…..your money is spent on research into things like a mechanical device which will be able to probe and measure the hardness of the prostate tissue.

Good……but did they have to call it the E-Finger Project? Serioulsy? :( But, hey, twenty seconds of discomfort and it saved my life.

And speaking of the Status Quo – this is from High School Musical

I’ve not always been like this. Once upon a time I did lots of things for myself (this is an innuendo free blog – okay?) but when I took on board this semi, other things seemed to get in the way. It started harmlessly enough with Kenny the Shed Pimp (and I’m still waiting for those estimates, big man) and somehow it spread.

I admitted to several things in class. For example, my BBC connection on Cable TV is not good…except when I stand on the stairs with the remote control in my hand and then it’s perfect. All I have to do is switch the box off at the socket (and I’ve done that before) and it’ll be fine. But if it’s not, then I’ll have to fone 150. And my record with them is not good.

On one occasion I was reporting a problem and I got really angry cos they kept cutting me off. It was only later I realised I had a dodgy battery on my phone and I actually needed a new phone.

The light fitting problem is now well documented and then there’s the printer. I hate changing the ink on it. It doesn’t like it. It needs to be persuaded. It has to want to change. And it gets a wee pouted lip daring me….I’ve tried motivational interviewing and I’ve tried Cognitive Behaviour Therapy. To be honest, and to my shame, I’ve even threatened it…’if you don’t do as I tell you, then you’re going to bed without any supper’….that kinda thing…….and then obviously, as soon as I leave the room, it moves into position……’I’m ready to take your cartridge now big boy’…that kinda thing.

And it manifests itself in different ways.

On Wednesday I planned to spend some time in the school library but I was in Govan for a meeting with the Prostate Cancer Charity (and can I say a massif thanks to all those doing something for Movember). I did the sensible thing. I printed off AA directions as to how to get there. From Govan.  Straight onto Paisley Road West. So how the hell, Glaswegians, did I find myself south of Bellahouston Park? Once I was onto Mosspark Boulevard (and that brought back memories, rainforestriverman) I was fine. Particularly as the rest of the directions seemed to involve bars of Paisley e.g. turn right at the Afton Bar onto Causeyside Street……..cooking with gas I was (except my fan heater’s dead in my oven)

Anyway, I get to the school where I’m due to meet my study buddy, Fi. Drove into the multi-storey, collecting my ticket from the machine on the way in, clutching it in my mouth as I drove up to the top floor in search of a parking space. I find one out in the open air – no problem to find on the way out.

But we have another problem. The ticket has cut my lip. It has caused a paper cut – the most dangerous cut known to man. I panic. If I do the studently huggy thing that studentlies do, it’ll look as if I’ve taken a chainsaw to Fi. Go to toilet; do not pass go. See just how bad it is. So I do and whilst I’m there I decide to use the urinal for its intended purpose and (some listeners may wish to look away at this point) I feel the need to spit. It’s a male thing. I think.

(The only serious time I have ever spent in ladies’ toilets I have been in drag and I didn’t see anyone spit)   

Anyway I spat…..a horrible blood spattered spit all over the urinal. And the man (a workie) standing next to me, happened to glance over a second later, saw the blood spattered mess and said, ‘I’d get that seen to if I were you, mate’, zipped up and walked away.

Oh, and I couldn’t find my car when I returned to it. I didn’t know that that multi-storey had so many levels open to the sky and, yes, when I got to the bottom, I had to stop the car, pull on the handbrake, get out of the car to put the ticket in and then obviously I stalled it on the way out……..but thanks to my study buddy, there are two intros now written……:D

Other points of note this week – I’d like to thank almost two year old, AJ for his help in chatting up that blonde in Tesco’s Maryhill and well done to friend and colleague and time traveller, W, for academically being in two places at once last week and well done for both (‘rug users’, eh?)

And finally, can I say thanks to the young woman in Glasgow Central Station who gave me the wee fix of honey and lemon Beecham’s the other morning in a cardboard cup. I felt the burn, James Ellroy, but I didn’t go back for more.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yes, and it’s been joined by two more for Movember. There’s still time.

Johnt850 – I used to be self-deprecating but I gave it up cos I was rubbish at it.

And this week’s serious message below the line is slightly different. Under the Freedom of Information Act it’s been established that investigating the unsolved killing of Emma Caldwell has cost almost £4 million. Emma was killed at the age of 27. She became addicted to heroin following the death of her sister from cancer and began to work as a prostitute to feed her habit.

Four Turkish men appeared in court in connection with her death but the case against them collapsed after ten months. I have a very good friend who looks at miscarriages of justice in a very specialised field and I understand the need for evidence that matters and is correct and proper.

But the money is well spent, if one day………No. No reason

I have no real idea what this vid is. It is not what I was looking for. I was trying to find something musically techno but failed. Sometimes keyword searching is soooo hard.

Anyway, my first three essays have been handed in. So can I say to all those who have supported me in recent whiles in this venture that I am doing everything you asked of me. And more.

I sit quietly at the back of the class (me and Skippy), quietly taking notes, quietly absorbing what is being said and quietly not speaking to anyone.  The teachers hardly know me. I say nothing. Quietly.

The details of the next three assignments are now on my kitchen wall, hiding the dirt. Altho’ with working light*, I can at last read them and plan them. Phrases like ‘harm reduction’ and ‘the disease model of addiction’ now pepper my everyday thinking and conversation – which should make it so very interesting this coming Friday when I’m at one of those formal dinners I attend from time to time.

The name of the group? The Winers’ Club. Altho’ food is taken, it’s like a West of Scotland version of the Bilderberg Group. Kinda. Without those leaders of the Western world who have dropped us right in the Euro-shit.

• I confess. I did have to get a man in eventually. The motor had gone. Unlike me.

Anyway, back to Academia, and whatever I may or may not achieve (a pass and a job in addiction work are the targets), I want to say Well Done to friend and colleague, the gorgeous W. I won’t say for what (publicly) just yet ‘cos you will have hunners of people to tell down (the) ASDA.* Wow……I’ll tell Nick and Linda.

*Y’see I honestly have no idea who listens to this blog, and I don’t want to spoil things.

* Why do some asterix work and some don’t?

Elsewhere, me and my school friend Fi  – also quietly spoken. Also sits at the back of the class. Quietly – recently carried out a recce for the class Christmas party. What is it about women and hunky, Italian waiters in (wait for it) black shirts? Don’t they understand the inherent symbolism as they look closely into the eyes of good looking women but they give me the bill. (The unintended  use of the plural there intrigues me as much as anyone else)

Still, whereas some places give out mints at the end, this place gives out small lollipops. Don’t they understand the inherent symbolism……… (*bangs head against brick wall and retreats into parallel universe for fully five minutes*)

Incidentally, also saw the movie The Rum Diary, which is an adaptation of the amazing book by Hunter S Thompson. It’s the story of an alcoholic journalist played by me, oops, sorry, Johnny Depp. (It’s like looking in a mirror. It’s uncanny). It is so much my life story.

Well, Tennent’s down (the) Byres Road, or the (Ex)press Bar in Albion Street or Off The Record down Anderston way on a Friday are incredibly similar to a Puerto Rican carnival. I think.  I shared the ambitions to expose corruption in society altho’ can I stress, as former BBC person, that Santa Claus does exist – to say otherwise was a sackable offence . Or at least a letter of apology to a young listener (cf Tam Cowan). But I have never, ever, done that thing in car. With another man. ooops that should have read

Amd maybe it is the essay writer in me but I want to quote some folk this week. For example, Andrew Eaton-Lewis of SoS;

‘I wish the media (or other folk) would stop obsessing over what different ages of people should be doing with their lives. Yes, lots of thirtysomethings (and fortysomethings and fiftysomethings) listen to pop music aimed at teenagers. Why on earth, shouldn’t they?’ Well said, Andrew (38) from me (42).

Incidentally, MI5 are recruiting via the school playground. Their very subtle leaflet – ‘Do you have what it takes to be quietly successful?’* – suggests that you only discuss your application with a partner or close family friend. She’s called Katzia Zatuliveter, 26 from Russia and she’s just finished her latest affair with a bearded Lib-Dem MP. Shouldn’t be a problem, should it?

• This week’s three letters of the alphabet are Q and R – for quietly relaxed.

And finally, can I quote the wise words of the smashing Grainne Braithwaite, concert promoter, talking about Frankie Cocozza’s nosedive from The X Factor; ‘I know more people who work in offices who take cocaine than do musicians. Frankie is behaving like a DJ or a footballer. Not like a rock star.’

Me? I just wonder how many other Scottish entrepreneurs are out there. Waiting in line.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? Yup, and it’s bringing lots of good luck all around.

Johnt850, quintessentially robust in a quietly relaxed kinda way.

Long time ago I helped a Second Year Newswriting class discover that the poppy is used as a symbol of remembrance because it was one of the very few plants to grow on the otherwise barren battlefields at the end of the war to end wars.

Recently an American SWAT team burst into the apartment of an author called James Hogshire, claiming he was running a drugs lab. The police team confiscated several bunches of dried poppies wrapped in cellophane which had come from a florist. He was charged with ‘possession of opium poppy with intent to manufacture and distribute’.

One flower meaning so many things to so many people. No. No reason. No moral tale. Except this week it became a political football. That shouldn’t happen. I was in the George Square area of Glasgow on Sunday morning. Those men and women there are what it’s all about. Despite everything in recent years we are in danger of forgetting.

This next clip was probably Rowan Atkinson’s finest moment. He should maybe have stopped then.