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.

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 £40,000 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?



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