Archive for June, 2010

When we all get the power We all give the best Every minute of an hour Don’t think about the rest And you all get the power You all get the best When everyone gets everything And every song everybody sings nanananana

June 26, 2010

Good morning Gilshochill! And isn’t it a wonderful day to be alive! And I’m in a jolly spiffing, lashings of ginger beer and caramel shortcake mood! So, to share that moment with all my listeners…….Isn’t it interesting when you find someone for whom you have a high regard on Youtube and you want to share it with everyone, so here is that link;

😀 At least four times a day 😀

Meanwhile, back in the real world that is the fractal brain of jt850, there’s not a lot I can talk about openly this week. I’m still told lots of things but, contrary to the journalistic stereotype, I keep secrets. I know for example the reasons why the two folk most agin’ me when I came out of the drinks cabinet, as opposed to the closet, three and a half years ago, have that hatred of alkies…..but I won’t tell anyone. I was brought up too well.

My mum was an amazing woman and whilst the last six months of her life (five years ago) are, obvioulsy, my biggest memory (and the crock o’ shit that followed but that was me) I can also remember that she cooked three course dinners for me, my sis and my dad, when we came home, individually, at lunchtimes* from school and the office. Brill, eh?

* so, what was it with you…..lunch or dinner at dinner time……we had tea about six……..supper……dinner parties……..what were they?

So, in the week when I should be celebrating my birthday but, because I have been chosen by gods from a parallel universe to remain 42 for the rest of my life, I will be ignoring this Friday, 2nd July, 2010.  😦

Altho’ after an interesting (?) climax from Doctor Who, but the No Spoilers rule applies as Jaymi is still out of the country*, I did take consolation from the words of Dani Garavelli in the Sunday of Scotland last week when she said of the good doctor’s relationship with the older Amy; ‘It’s difficult to see the appeal of a 907-year-old itinerant with no regular source of income, but if she wants to bed a Time Lord, then good luck to her.’ No. No reason. 😀

*If you want details of Jaymi’s blog, please contact me or her mate, Bea, of whom more later.

And in a week when our (eh?) bets on Spain and Ivory Coast are going separate ways, can I point out that I lost interest in the World Cup when the Dutch East Indies were cruelly beaten by Hungary in the World Cup of 1938. (6-0 since you ask but it was close)

But I’d like to say a big thanks to L frae Troon and the rrm for their recent comments (it was a kinda Witch Report) on why my opening lines with women fail. Yes, even I understand why ‘No, I’m an alkoholic, but don’t let that stop you having another drink’ is doomed to failure.

But what is wrong with, ‘Nice veins. Do you use them much?’ or ‘Yes, I have the same Juliette Lewis poster as your 16 year old son. Interesting angle, isn’t it?’ or ‘No. I don’t eat that much. I don’t think you should either’? It’s okay. I won’t do the reverse cowgirl line.

Moving swiftly on.

So where was I when I heard about Michael Jackson’s death? I was in a newsagent’s in London buying a newspaper telling me that Michael Jackson had died.

And W is back from Berlin (hurrah!), Son Brian bought me lunch last week (double hurrah!) and Oonagh, tell your aunts, there’s a new Doctor John album out (triple hurrah!) And my thanks to the blogmeister for tekkie advice this afternoon and for advising me as to the colour I should get my bathroom painted. (Note. Not what colour I should paint the bathroom. I don’t do D-I-Y myself……okay?)

And congrats to anyone who got a new job in FE recently. Don’t do what I did on my first day, teaching. I pointed the overhead projector at the class and asked them their names, rank and serial numbers and then shouted, ‘Exterminate!’ Altho’ apparently I did say, on a later occasion, ‘I don’t feel well. I’m going out for some fresh air’ and was gone for six months.

So maybe Captain Oates did come back only to find ‘the bastards’ had moved the tents and left no forwarding address.

But I would like to re-assure all of my former students that Skippy the Bush Kangaroo still brings me my mid-day coffee on a silver platter like she always did. No. She’s invisible. That’s why you didn’t see her.

And to all students, plus Son Brian, who may remember me talking about the news value of sheds…..can I just point out that National Shed Week begins on 5th July and that that site still exists; Serioulsy.

And finally, before I nip down to Marks and Spencer’s to get an individual asparagus lasagne for my tea; Well done Missie K. All sorts of reasons.

cya and keep(ing) it fun

Johnt850, or ‘plonker’ as Jaymi’s mate, Bea, recently described me; a creature of exquisite taste and discernment is Bea…….I used to be a serious journalist you know.

No, I was talking to some folk earlier this week about preparing for death, hence the bit at the start of the show after the link. It came up in a  conversation with someone worried about their cancer but before they’ve started treatment (and it’s a baddie). So my Living Will has been drawn up and it’s not me standing talking to a mini cam saying this, that and the next thing. It, at the moment (eh?), all goes to Son Brian.

It’s about giving him certain permissions re switching the machine off should I be in a coma for a few days and showing no signs of life. (Basically, if I don’t respond either to a designated nurse* or the music of Alabama 3, then flick the switch and book the closing night celebration….Maryhill Juniors Social Club or the recently re-furbished Corinthian)

It’s a complicated area, tho’, medical law, particularly where this kinda thing is concerned. My own legal eagle is a damn fine and excellent High Court man. I wonder. Anyone else I should be talking to………?

* I’ve seen the video. I know what she does. It works.

Ah remember me, I used to live for music Remember me, I brought your groceries in. Well it’s Father’s Day and everybody’s wounded First we take Matalan and then we take Berlin.

June 19, 2010

A bright and cheery song from the pen of Leo Cohen there. Normally I check lyrics on a site called Sing365. Today I just listened and wrote the words down. Don’t think I got them quite right, did I?

Anyway dedicating that to W who’s in Berlin for a few days and Jaymi who’s heading there. Both with amazingly similar ideas of how to have a great time. In Berlin. Gosh, I wonder what it’d be like to have a holiday with both of them, dear listener?

The gentle sarcasm didn’t quite work there, did it? I didn’t write lol, did I? 😦 I know what hedonistic impression I have just given.

(Y’know, there are times when the cold shower has already switched itself on……back shortly)

And I’d also like to dedi the song to Son Brian. No. No reason. But I wonder how many Father’s Day pressies one man can have just two weeks before his actual birthday. When I will be 42.

And hang on……the lyric applies to e as well.

So I’m in a wee bit of a holiday mood. Hunners of pounds has entered my bank account including a large element of actual cash which was handed to me across a crowded table in a coffee bar called Offshore down Kelvinbridge way. Now some people may have been tempted to put this straight into their pocket and avoid the tax.

But I don’t pay tax. The taxman pays me. No. I don’t understand it either, but that form in the corner over there needs filled in soon or else it’ll stop.

That must really annoy Tweedledum at my old Alma Mater. Tweedledee retired before he achieved mediocrity. That’s their working titles in the screenplay that is now being hawked around.

Alkoholically – and without any reference to Gazza ‘cos addicts do not pass comment on other addicts – I realised how far I have come in my attempts to bring about acceptance and understanding of my own addiction when I asked my painter (I don’t do D-I-Y…..okay? and if no-one D-I-Yed, we’d have a lot  less unemployment. ….okay?) to give me a quote for re-painting the porch ‘cos it had got wasted over the winter. ‘Unlike yourself, jt’, he quipped. We laffed. 

(Incidentally, while we’re discussing incompetent bosses with no people skills and no vision, can I say a wee word about the BP ‘oil spill’? Eleven workers died in the explosion that ’caused’ the spill. Okay? Can we, please, remember them?)

So, to holidays, and can I stress that we are currently at Vampire Red Alert as the Vampire Slayer is about to leave the country for the foreseeable future. I am her officially appointed ‘skank hitman’ so any sightings of skank or vampires, please let me know.

And Missie K’s going soon, and L’s just back, and my Cumnock Corr’s going soon and Louis’s just back, and just when does the rainforestriverman actually run the corner shop? But the speed of your box packing, rrm, always amazes me, and I still miss wassername from the Caimans. And bestest friend Caitlin’s off somewhere soon as well.

And at this point I want to mention her uncle with whom I had a very pleasant lunch this week. And it was my turn to pay. And I put the notes in the wallet with the bill. And he picked it up and took to the waitress and said, ‘Keep the change’………..tbh………I thought that was pretty gallus. I am young. I am still learning the ways of life 😛

And thanks for your holiday advice. Barca beckons. I have formed a small sub-committee consisting of Jaymi, Oonagh and Nick and their advice is being sought even as we speak. Well, not exactly now ‘cos it’s six o’clock in the morning. And the shower’s not working. I think it’s a wee bit like Wayne Rooney. Problems with the pressure.

But it’ll soon be the new football season and instead of visiting the shanty town that is Airdrie United’s ground (death to the diamonds) we have fabulous Falkirk to look forward to. Yes I have already spent an afternoon writing in next season’s fixtures. I’ve never been to Cowdenbeath (28/08/10)

What’s that Skippy? World Cup? What do I think has been lacking so far?

The totty cam.

This, as every student of broadcast will know, is the camera that looks for good looking women in any audience at a TV event. I first came across it in my early days at the BBC when I watched Songs of Praise being recorded. One camerman has the job of looking for good looking women  and the director says ‘I’ll have that one,’ and everybody laughs. Except Nigel.

And the horn doesn’t bother me. One of my fave football moments was at Airdrie United a couple of seasons ago when about fifty of us PT fans spent the last half hour of the game banging (our hands) against the corrugated iron that is the wall there, chanting ‘Firhill Army’, or similar. Hard work, banging. But pleasant 😉 

And finally, I watched some of the State Visit of Carla Bruni to the UK the other day. Did you see her take her cardigan off? When did you last see sophistication like that? The answer, dear listener, is not that long ago, actually 🙂

cya and keep(ing) it fun, just like Leo

Johnt850, the vuvuzela of his generation

And a wee word about a guy I know whose cancer has returned, and I did the wee note saying how much medical science has moved on in this area and all that stuff. And it has. I’m quite re-assured that should mine come back (because the cancer is an evil bastard) there are more choices for treatment available than before.

But what I didn’t tell him was what one consultant said to me in the course of  my research for the radio doc, when he told me how he hoped never to see me professionally. ‘Why’s that?’ I naively asked. ‘Because by the time patients reach me, they’re too far gone; so by the time they leave me, they’re dead.’

We’ve made tremendous advances in cancer diagnosis and treatment. Despite my optimism we still have a long way to go.

Y’know some jobs are like rocket science; others just need a simple transference of existing skills.

Kids want a saviour, don’t need a fake, I wanna be elected, We’re all gonna rock to the rules that I make, I wanna be elected, elected, elected.

June 12, 2010

Assistant Head Of Division, Communication and Media, Glasgow Metropolitan College – it has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it? I still haven’t made up my mind yet about standing for election and nomination papers have to be in soon, so we’ll see. Oh, and thanks to Alice Cooper for the campaign song.

So I visited the constituency on Tuesday night (excellent End of Year Exhibition) but I have added another strand to my multimedia platform as announced in last week’s show – a wider range of soft drinks, unless of course you want to encourage binge drinking by giving young adults the choice of a cola or cheap juice, or cheap alcohol. I know which I’d prefer.

Mind you the students I went to see weren’t there but they had kept a seat for me at TGIFs. Thanks. lol xx. Maybe the fact that they’ve left gives me free-er rein to say some things. No. No reason.

But I do think it’s nice that a number of students with diplomas, degrees and similar have asked me advice about freelance journalism. I did say, why not ask your lecturers and then I remembered; many of them are full-time academics talking about freelancing. It’s not quite the same.

(For many others, part-time teaching as part of a portfolio is a brilliant way of helping to ground students in the ways of the creative world. Yes. I have friends who do it both ways.)

So here’s a piece of advice. Rather than do any form of qualification in broadcast, just read Charlie Brooker’s amazing The Hell of it All.

Actually I noticed that Charlie has just announced his engagement to Konnie (here’s one I made earlier) Huq. To commemorate the event, I’ve come up with a limerick, but I thought I should check first with BBC Al, the blog’s bad taste pal, but he’s not returned my calls, for some reason. (I’d have thought me describing his wife as ‘hot’ would have been seen as a complement. Mmmmmmmmmmm…………….. 🙂 )

But my favourite Big Brother contestant of all time? Hurricane Charley. The dusky, husky maiden (?) with the gobby mouth; a woman with a view on everything somewhere in that race of words that poured from her mouth and a love affair with the mirror. She reminded me of someone. Ah, yes. Me.

My favourite mirror of all time? (Now there’s a conversation to have in the pub when you’ve stopped trying to name all the Banana Splits.) It’s in a bathroom in West Kilbride where not only do you get a reflection of me but you also see a big daud o’ rock called Ailsa Craig. I’d sell tickets but it’s not my house.

Although, as e and young 16lbs 7oz well know, there is a fabbo mirror in a well known Byres Road Coffee Shop, from which I have to be dragged away kicking and shouting.

But there’s a not a lot of housekeeping this week. I’ve not been out much. The dissertation reading/editing has kinda taken over and has given me a cold. Let me explain. I have kept the window open in the room now known as The Office and I have been sitting in a draught.

And yes, it does pay well but it’s more than just tidying up words. I am employed as editor on two separate pieces of work that could affect peoples’ futures, so it’s a responsibility. (And to a friend of mine currently living in the Borders……you never did tell me how you got into writing porn for those telephone lines!)

And will I get out at all now that the World Cup is on us? Oh, that and the West End Festival, a time of year loved by those of us who live in the West End (ish) – or Wendies as we are known. (Words? Sometimes they do come easy)

And W, thanks for your patience with the mail you got by mistake. You should have seen the one the client got. Gosh. What a jolly interesting response I got in return. 

Oh, and it’s been a wee while since I’ve been in my Queen Street Office, but sadness, no Magenta Girl staffing the reception. And I had so much to tell her. Has anyone seen her?

Oh, and I met someone else new this week – to do with my business At least she was new to me. I was already known to her. After all I was the alkie who’d had cancer who’d presented to that Health Conference just a matter of weeks ago that she attended.

Maybe I never wanted to be rich and successful, but one thing that did come out of Tuesday night was the amount of laughter that seemed to be happening where I was standing……just once it went quiet.

There is obvioulsy something about me, btw, that doesn’t worry men where their, em, partners are concerned. Damn you female hormone implants. You may have renewed my testosterone, allowed me to keep my prostate with all that that allows but I’ll never forgive you for that mincing walk. Freedom!!!! Mind you,  the handbag’s nice.

And finally, talking of elections, what does it say about the Labour Party when what makes Diane Abott different from the other candidates is that she’s actually left wing – and a big, black woman? Which she is. The only one that’s all three. Sorry. Four.

cya and keep(ing) it fun

Johnt850, change is good

And this week’s serious bit was held over from last week for Cumbrian reasons. David Laws is a politician who stole ÂŁ40,000 rather than admit to being homosexual. He’s Liberal, ffs. This is the party that gave us Mark Oaten and a sexual practice even I had never heard of (No. I’m not sure why the emphasis either). His Liberal colleagues said the resignation was a ‘tragedy’.

A few days later, an innocent ship carrying humanitarian aid was boarded in international waters by armed men. In defending themselves and trying to repel boarders, nine crew and passengers were killed. This wasn’t poverty stricken Somali pirates. These were Israeli commandos. The Liberals sat uncomfortably and said nothing of serious intent.

My sympathy for the Palestinian cause is well known but my belief in getting things into some form of perspective is even weller known.

That’s why I drank the cola and didn’t complain…….at the time. Should I now?

All he wanted was to be free and that’s the way it turned out to be. Flow river flow. Let your waters wash down. Take me from this road to some other town.

June 5, 2010

The Ballad of Easy Rider and for once there is a thought-out theme. Kinda. Serious bit at bottom same as usual but I aim to get every piece of music off the Easy Rider soundtrack into the show today.

Actually I’ve got that and the soundtracks to Trainspotting and Fear and Loathing on a loop downstairs. No. No reason.

Y’see my alter ego was about 14/15 when the movie came out and was living in a smalltown fishing town in the North East of Scotland (and one currently sweating buckets over the BP oil disaster, but everyone takes the money and to hell with the conequences) and the soundtrack meant so much. I, sorry, he really believed he was Born To Be Wild.

And I bumped into a guy during the week who I hadn’t seen for while who kinda embodies the easy rider feel to his life. Christian used to be a researcher of mine who used the casual employment to fund his extreme sports. (I know I said ‘waterboarding’, C. I meant ‘snowboarding’) I taught him a lot which has helped him a lot during his freelance life; how to make soup from roadkill and how to get out of paying for the coffee by getting a mate to ring at just the right time.

And what a programme idea we have, altho’ it may be more Bravo than BBC 3, Nick.

Where did we meet? Down Byres Road where every day is like Kyrie Eleison Mardi Gras. It gets better. Trust me.

Now, nobody said the road to vegetarianism was going to be straight ahead, turn left and you’re there but can I say how much I actually enjoyed pulling out into traffic. 🙂 And can a guy have too many good looking female friends? I think not. 

So, wending swiftly on with our (eh?) money on Spain to win and Ivory Coast to make the semis.

Actually I did wonder what would Dennis Hopper have done in these circumstances but the answer – two grams and a bottle of JD – doesn’t really apply to me these days, does it? Altho’ If Six Was Nine what would be between Five and Seven? Well, that’s when I normally have my tea. Kerrching!

Sorry, I’m in a strange mood. is having a good few days. Hunners and thousands of PhD words needing read and edited at short notice, and for money, albeit with various discounts. It does mean, however, that I am locked in the room now known as The Office for several days, many of them of twenty four hours’ duration and a sign on the door that says, Don’t Bogart Me.

‘Cos it’s not just typos, grammar and tidying; it’s wrestling with concepts like can ‘a mistress of ceremonies [have] a mastery of words’?

As some of you know I did apply for work teaching radio in a YOI but didn’t get it. It’s the only job in my life where, when I asked about on-the-job training, I was told it was ‘ self-defence’ …..just in case. Serioulsy.

But what’s this on the Met College website? A management position at my old Alma Mater? After all I’ve said? This is my chance. So, if I did stand for election, what would be my multi-media platform? (I was looking for details of the End of Year Exhibition);

0 To smile a lot. 😀 😀 😀

1  To respond to all external e-mails within a set number of days, particularly when they offer ideas for evening classes.

2 To offer some sort of care and support to alkoholics with cancer (It’s alright Ma (I’m only bleeding)) ‘cos none seemed to exist in my day. 😦

3 To care about students as individuals and not just see them as University fodder.

4 And to smile a lot. 😀 😀 😀

Referees? Well, last time I went for something like this top pop picker and former student of mine, Heather C was one of them (during my sandblasting – not good time) and on another successful occasion I got a jolly good reference from another former student, gd frnd Clr. High Horse Level Committee – Wasn’t Born To Follow.

Any volunteers, btw? There’s a drink in it. 😉  Oh, and well done to all those UWS students who got honours degrees.

And finally, quick housekeeping. Vampire Slayer, gonnae gie’s peace about your secret mission! Days and counting! lol 😉 xx Cumnock Corr, S, I was going to mention your cat reference but the funniest pussy gag ever is Steve Martin’s. Google Steve Martin’s pussy gag and see this blog on that page. I am so proud. Much prouder than the time it appeared on the Airdrie ‘Dogging’  Contacts page. I was so relieved. Oh, The Weight. (Two to go….so far, so good)

But not as relieved as the BBC’s Jeanette who has become a granny yet again at the tender age of………….let’s just say, schoolgirl grannies are not unknown that side of the river! 

Erik the Floodstalker, good luck in Mehico….except the World Cup’s in South Africa this year*; blogmeister, nice jacket but I already pull my sleeves up and e,….how’s the grass? (which in the context of much of today’s blog is possibly a dubious question but you know what I’m talking about).

Maybe I should have flown in that afternoon but If You Want To Be A Bird you gotta have wings! (Is there a stopwatch on me?……I am so hot!)

*Serioulsy Erik is a damn fine and excellent student journo who does damn fine and excellent freelance stuff. Him and her, a damn fine and excellent photographer, are actually doing Central America and are available for commissions. I have numbers. 

cya and keep(ing) it fun….I just borrow it, btw, it belongs to someone else…..worthier

Johnt850, not aka The Pusher ‘cos I ain’t a pushy person.

(Ten out of ten and, yes, I do know about Wiki’s reference to the two songs in the movie but not on the soundtrack, but if the Met want someone creative…..hubba, hubba, hubba! Let’s Turkey Trot!)

Serious bit. Dennis Hopper, Frank Zappa and Johnny (not Joey) Ramone, all died from Prostate Cancer. 10,000 UK men die from it every year and not the 1,000 apparently 17% recently questioned thought. Rock’n’roll lifestyle didn’t help but at Dennis’s age? It’d be surprising if the cancer wasn’t happening, but not necessarily aggressive. Mine was. My PSA is now down to 0.6

Frankie Boyle (looking good, btw) on TV the other night describing himself as a ‘teetotal (sp) alcoholic’. Drinks in one of the Byres Road coffee houses I frequent.

Smiley bit. I live in amazing company. I have my own hair. All over. And I enthuse. What a personal statement this is going to be!

Now, go away. I have a chapter to edit. I have a habit to fund. Flash, Bang, Pow!