Jah Jah Dub

Echo and the Bunnymen tonight. That, Bob, is how you put on a show.
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So I cut my hair. I now have the most meagre barnet in the house.

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I cannot believe I haven't seen American Pie 3 yet. Jim finally takes her up the aisle. What am I playing at?
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Order in which one should shag the American Pie lads:

1) Steve Stiffler/Paul Finch
2) Jim Levinstein
3) Kevin Myers
4) Chris "Oz" Ostreicher
5) Chuck "The Sherminator" Sherman
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And Parker Posey re-establishes herself in my all time top five.
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Actually, it's going to be called "I feel love", and the theme tune will be the Donna Summer song of the same name. I'm actually getting quite serious about this.
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I am a gay.
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Memo to self: write a sitcom pilot based on a flatshare between a gay man and a straight man. (Yes, Will and Grace is on as I write this. Yes, a box of wine has been opened.) Most important thing: work out a catchy name.
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The new Top of the Pops is shit. It looks like CDUK.
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I was reminded the other day of some sitcom ideas I came up with ages ago and was going to submit to BBC 1. If I had had a blog then I would have put them on it. But I didn't. So I'm sticking them here now. One from the vaults.

Steal away, lazy television executives! Steal away!


Sit Com Ideas

Quick Save: Ian Save runs a supermarket, he has worked his way up from the shop floor and is working class. Ian Quick is upper middle class and has been demoted from high management level due to various errors and now has to work under Ian Quick. Ian Save is hyperactive, Ian Quick procrastinates. Ian Save is profligate, Ian Quick is thrifty. They are the original odd couple. They both try to undermine each other whilst making themselves look good. Each one’s scheme always backfires, often due to the other’s scheme. Every now and again they realize that they’re not so different after all and there is a moment of pathos, broken by Ian Save farting, burping or doing something else crude.

Idea for Christmas special: both get drunk at the supermarket party and spend most of the episode trying to get at each other. Episode ends with them burying the hatchet. (Perhaps a comedy kiss under the mistletoe) The truce is of course over by the start of the next episode.

Monkey Business: Two bickering brothers run a pet shop specializing in apes. Sometimes the monkeys seem more sensible than the humans. This one writes itself.

Jack the Lad: About a boy called Jack. He gets into scrapes.

Oil and Water: The Oils and the Waters are neighbours. One runs a bottled water factory, the other an oil refinery. Ian Oil and Ian Water are great rivals but never mix. Ian Oil’s eldest daughter, Sandra, is going out with Ian Water’s son, Steve. This causes problems. Last episode of series: both families go to see the school production of Romeo and Juliet, the leads being played by Steve and Sandra. The fathers realize that their lives reflect the story and are humbled. Both tell their children that it’s OK for Steve and Sandra to see each other. The moment of pathos doesn’t last long though as both Dads have a go at each other later, possibly shaking their fists. (NB Ian Oil’s youngest son is cheeky and provides much comic relief as well as the words of wisdom only a child can give: pointing out his parents’ hypocrisies etc. His best friend is Katie Water, the youngest Water child. She provides much the same role for that family.)

Davy Jones’ Locker: Davy Jones works in a leisure centre. All the action is seen from a camera inside his locker.

Cash and Carry: Ian Cash is poor. Ian Carry has no arms. They run a Cash and Carry. Hilarity ensues. Possibly when someone asks Ian Carry to give them a hand with some stuff to their car.

Sea Bass: The humourous adventures of a cruise ship funk band.

Teddy Boys: Effeminate men, Nigel and Nathan (NOT homosexual though, just camp. Is James Dreyfus available?) who run a soft toy shop. They bicker all the time in the manner of an old gay couple. However, both are in love with the woman who runs the shop next door. (Possibly a florists.) They are not as different as they like to think. At the end of the series Nigel gets a job offer to a rival shop for better money. He ends up turning it down because he can’t face leaving. There is a moment where they both look at each other, recognizing their mutual need and affection. Nathan then makes a bitchy, camp comment which Nigel responds to and they both look relieved that the awkward moment is over.

Rough and Ready: You know how this one goes.

Some other ones I couldn’t be bothered writing up/didn’t get past the title:

Hammer and Tongs
Over the Moon/Man in the Moon
Afraid Knot
Ready or Not (Knot)
Heat Wave
Cold Snap

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Several people are trying to get me a ticket for the work Christmas party. It's black tie, which is for shit. But it's free booze all night.

Hiiiii Susanna.
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The new building's crazy. It's like the future. Or America.

I think I'd been away from the old team for so long that each had forgotten what their relationship had been with me. Consequently everyone was much friendlier and more chatty than I remember them being. Nice though. I think I'll be able to get on the internet for short bursts every now and again. We'll see.
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Well that's it. My time in soilitary confinement draws to an end. Tomorrow I will be at London Bridge, with The Man riding me all day. I don't even know if I'll have computer access. If I do then I'll use it. If not, I won't. Might have to be evening postings only from now on.
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I go to Benjy's once, maybe twice a week. The guy at the counter knew my order today. Humbling.
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And that bloke with the moustache from the Thin Blue Line was there. Hip crowd.
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Dylan then...

He was introduced with,

"Ladies and gentlemen... the voice of the 60s counterculture... the grandfather of the folk movement... in the 70s he disappeared into drug-induced oblivion... he found Jesus... was written off in the 80s as a has-been... and now he's making some of the best music of his career. Ladies and gentlemen, Columbia recording artist BOB DYLAN!"

I could have lived without that.

Still, it’s Bob Dylan. Right there! After a few songs I was still wondering when it would sink in, I seemed strangely unmoved, it was like watching it on television. Then I realised that that was the problem, it WAS like watching it on television, or perhaps spying on a rehearsal. Dylan was seated at a piano, pointing away from the audience. I wasn't expecting a, "Hello London! Are you ready to rock?" but he made no indication that he even knew there was an audience. It’s a problem with a lot of music, especially white music, that the performer expects worship and there is none of the call and response dialogue that is more common in the Black tradition. So you don’t feel a part of it, and start to become a bit... bored. The band were highly proficient, if you like that sort of thing, bar room blues I guess, one ponderous guitar lick after another. None of it was bad, just little of it was that good. He acknowledged the audience in the encore, cheers Bob, and played a powerful “Like a Rolling Stone”, and then was gone. I know that he's Dylan, and has earned the right to do whatever he wants, but that doesn't mean I have to be impressed by it. I just wonder why he’s still doing it. If he only wants the adulation he feels he’s entitled to, why play at all? The “Bobcats” will still come and cheer him if he stands alone on the stage. If he wants to share his music, then shaaaare Bob, make me want to listen to you.

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Dylan last night... was a bit underwhelming really. I’ll write more when I think it through, but I didn’t get the, "Oh my God! It’s x over there!" that I had with Bowie and The Rolling Stones, despite it being in a much smaller venue. However, this has not put me off my current favourite way to amuse myself, singing the Twelve Days of Christmas in a shoddy Dylan voice.

"Three French Heyyyyyns, Two Turrrrt-le Duvs and a Partridge in a Peeaaaaar Treeeee."
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Clearing out the remnants of the office, I came across Susanna's old notebooks. I confess, part of wanted to see "Susanna Johnston?" in the margins, written in a childish scrawl. I didn't though. Probably for the best.
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Hmmm... What shall I do tonight? I know! I'll go and see Bob Dylan at Brixton Academy...
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Bored? Why not play Manx Top Trumps?
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Kelvin's blog is back in business. Let the games begin...
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I think one of the guys in the post room may have a crush on me. He's the only one who's remotely friendly and always calls me "Trouble". Perhaps he's just being paternal, I wouldn't know.
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Why do the papers still refer to Aaron Barschak as a "comedy terrorist" when "fucking bum" will do just as well?
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Amazon order finally arrived. Only skipped through them so far. First thoughts...

Outkast - The Love Below: Andre likes his Prince.
Neptunes Present... Clones: Like a Now album. From the future.
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Top music videos:

1) Waiting on a friend - Rolling Stones
2) Hurt - Johnny Cash
3) I'm a slave 4 u - Britney Spears
4) Word Up - Cameo
5) Dancing in the Street - David Bowie and Mick Jagger
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An Apology.

Some time ago on this site I made some derogatory comments about birds. I now recognise that my remarks were ignorant and ill judged and sincerely apologise for any offence caused. Birds are brilliant, they have feathers and everything. My current favourite is the osprey. I’d also like to give an honorary mention to kiwis, which are endearingly rubbish.
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If I were somehow to meet Girls Aloud, I would fancy my chances with at least one of them. And not necessarily the ginger. I don't know why I'm so cocksure, presumaby because it will never be tested.
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Saturday night: shared a box of wine with James; ate ice cream; watched Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (believe the hype) and two episodes of Will and Grace. And the fag hag award goes to...
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I'm thinking about doing one of those smug "Review of the Year" things you get in Sunday papers. E-mail me your high/lowlights of 2003, cultural (Best thing I read, saw, heard etc), sporting, news etc to the usual address and I'll compile them. Probably put it up in mid-December. It'll be like the Observer, but even more pleased with itself.
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Frau Farbissina? I would.
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Beyonce, Beyonce, Beyonce...
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James and I have just shared a box of wine. Obviously the best time to watch Goldmember again. It's all unfamiliar, although I've watched it twice. Pissed both times. Eventually I'll know it all subliminally.
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I was thinking earlier, even before Charlotte, that if I had to choose a British nationality, I'd pick Welsh.
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Actually, she's lovely. I have quite the crush on her.
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I'm watching an old episode of Have I Got News For You on UK Gold. Charlotte Church is on. She's even younger than she is now. I quite like her. I feel dirty.
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England win something? Didn't see that one coming.
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I might start protesting against comedy banners based around some play on words on "Bush."
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Yesterday I loudly proclaimed that sex is overrated. No one went with me on that one.
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We became obsessed yesterday with the idea of talking to a celebrity. Unfortunately Jim Davidson had changed his number and Sadie Frost wasn't picking up so it had to be Dale Winton. He was a bit confused that the "Manchester Evening News" had his mobile number, but promised to call back today with a quote on the Michael Jackson allegations.
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Right. When I started this thing I vowed not to delete postings made whilst drunk, regardless of how embarrassing they were. So I’m leaving the previous up. Feel free to ignore it.
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How many people do you know do you suspect you will sleep with at some point? (NB this is not the same as "Who do you know that you fancy?") Bet you pounds to pennies this posting will be deleted by tomorrow.
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Unexpected and excellent gathering of the tribes tonight. I liked that dude with the beard who lived in Herne Hill. He was a peach.
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My phone rings...

- Hello.
- ... hello... Aleestar?
- Yes. Susanna?
- Yes. Sorry, I try to call my friend.
- Ok. Bye.
- Bye.

She has my mobile number now. Brilliant.
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James got a new job today. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't go out for a drink with him?
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I just had to get a file from an aisle on which the Japanese girl was working. "Excuse me", I murmur suavely. She gives a tiny yelp and presses herself against one of the walls, as if avoiding a searchlight. It's my raw, animal sexuality. It happens a lot.
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At present I am working with an Indian man, a Chinese woman, an Australian man, a Japanese woman and a Black South African woman.

It's a regular Gap advert.
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The capo di tutti capi here (The Filing Don) uses the phrase "cool beans" to express his satisfaction.
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I'm trying to think of Spanish-style nicknames for my friends, but can't get past "El Burro" for Dan.
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I was trapped on the horns of a dilemma last night. My heart wanted wins for Wales and Scotland, while my try-hard head said, "it’s stupid to support a team for nationalistic reasons. You’re neither Scottish nor Welsh anyway, so why should you care? You’re being sentimental and should want Russia and Holland to win as they are more gifted and will grace 2004 with superior football. Removing all jingoism, you should desire what will give the greatest spectacle. You should be concerned only with the aesthetic." So I was in a win-win/lose-lose situation whatever happened. Ideally I’d have wanted Russia and Scotland. I have an affection for the Dutch team, mercurial and faction-friendly as they are, but there’s still plenty of time for them to self destruct before the final. And at least this way England won’t have to play one of the other "home nations". That would have been a world of pain.
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I've agreed to come in on Saturday morning. I'm crazy. First weekend I'll have worked in a few years. I had Monday and Tuesday off though, so it's not so bad. Might actually stop me getting pissed on Friday night. Yeah right.
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Ahem... if I may have everyone's attention...
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Hey, how middlebrow am I?! Both gigs I went to over the last few days were reviewed in the Guardian! The shame. They're both about right, bit stingy with the stars though. You can read them here and here...
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Today: I come back to work after two days in God’s Own City (my love of Manchester is reaching Walters-like proportions) to find my cave full of strangers packing all the files into boxes. I no longer have constant computer access and my day has been spent putting stickers onto files. One by one. It’s like labelling supermarket produce but without the variety. Once again, I win the unspoken, "Who has the worst job?" competition.
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He did. It was pretty special.
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Potted story of the weekend:

Saturday - Catherine's party, good. Got more drunk than I have done in a long while. Apologies to anyone who found me particularly boorish and overbearing. Started to organise a party for Christmas with a bikinis and speedos only policy.

Sunday: Saw Emmylou Harris. Best voice I've ever heard in real life. Bowie tonight will have to do something special.
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Well, tonight would have been like shooting fish in a barrel. Don't worry, I missed the barrel.
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Are the All Saints better than the Jam?

Single for single, I think they might be.
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"Everything was made to worship him,
Mmmmmmmm, just to worship him."

It makes me wonder, if this was true, what's in it for us? And more to the point, what's in it for God? What sort of vain and insecure omniscient deity requires such constant reassurance from acolytes who will suffer eternal damnation if they fail to tell Him how wonderful He is? What a baby.
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So I come back from lunch...


Mavis: I just remembered, you have a CD player on your computer?
Alistair: Ummm... Yeah.
M: I have two CDs with me...
A: Oh yeah? Well... you can put them on if you want.

I put some files away near her desk, see her take the CDs out.

M: They are my friend's, I need to give them back to her soon.

She puts first CD in. There is some confusion as I show her what to do to play it and how to control the volume. (I should point out at this point that when I play music it's always on really quietly so as not to disturb her and so that I can hear the phone, which is on Mavis's desk, around the corner. Now this means that she needs to have it on pretty loud to be able to hear it.)

The CD starts...

It’s a Christian Country and Western outfit.

I had to sit there working as fast as I have ever worked in my life with,

"...looking for someone to pray for? Won’t you look my way? Look my way!

Jesus won’t you look my way? Here I am Lord!"

blaring in my face. Twitching, I made my excuses and went to work in a different empty office.


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To my one and only sister, Leila, anneoid, lovemaus, whatever she's calling herself these days, happy birthday chick!
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Ah, she's singing a spiritual now. That's lovely.
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Just came in to find the Samoan changing her top. I saw her bra.
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This made me laugh out loud on the bus this morning:

"At the Club Bagdad (sic) they used to have an act involving a donkey until the Sociedad Protectora de Animales turned up one day and took it away."
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The Samoan failed to show today so I'm alone again. All good though, I can listen to music (strangely enough, after the harmonica comments brouhaha I had Dylan and Stevie Wonder on earlier) and mess about on internets. However, when I say my first words of the day my voice will sound like I've crawled across the desert.
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"He's a good looking lad" seems to be the only way that one heterosexual man may express approval of another’s looks without fearing he will be taken for a homosexual.
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Nicknames I've had. In approximate order:

Tiger Toes
Ali
Ali/Alley Cat
Johnston
Smiley
Johno
Ali
Al

Crazy.
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Just came back to find The Man sitting at my computer. Luckily only one window had internets on - a review on the Onion. It could be worse, this site could have been up. Frank Sinatra was gently playing away too. I think he may now have the idea that I don't bust my hump *all* day.
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I just sent a file to a Miss A. Raper.

Harsh.
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Hobbies: (If you were talking to someone at a party and they... etc)


Best

1) Tap dancing
2) Draughts
3) Glass blowing
4) Women’s rugby
5) Member of a steel band (or any marching band)


Worst

1) Circus skills
2) Contemporary dance
3) Ultimate Frisbee
4) Paintball
5) Any "Xtreme" sports

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Instruments which would not impress me if I met someone at a party who claimed to own/play them:

1) Guitar
2) Clarinet
3) Piano
4) Banjo
5) Tuba
6) Stylophone
7) Harmonica
8) Kazoo
9) Sitar
10) Trumpet

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Instruments which would impress me if I met someone at a party who claimed to own/play them:

1) Steel/Kettle drum
2) Ukulele
3) Bassoon
4) One of those whistles with a plunger which goes, “Weee-ooooo-eeee”
5) Castanets
6) Oboe
7) Accordion
8) Washboard
9) Hammond Organ
10) Trombone

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Overheard: What about the one delivered on the twenty one-th?
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The "Hey Hey!" list of the ten best animals.

1) Puffins
2) Elephants (African)
3) Bumble Bees
4) Chameleons
5) Ducks
6) Giant Tortoises
7) Wolves
8) Pond Skaters
9) Badgers
10) Zebras
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The "Oh do put it away, we're not interested," list of the ten most try-hard animals.

1) Indian Elephants
2) Bees (excl Bumble)
3) Stingrays
4) Pandas
5) Orangutans
6) Giraffes
7) Koala Bears
8) Dung Beetles
9) Dolphins
10) Pelicans
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The "So?" list of the ten most mediocre animals.

1) Leopards
2) Wombats
3) Pythons
4) Rabbits
5) Trout
6) Newts
7) Sea gulls
8) Coyotes
9) Squirrels
10) Butterflies
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The "Would You Really Miss Them?" list of the ten worst animals.

1) Naked Mole Rats
2) Antelope
3) Swans
4) Hippos
5) Lizards
6) Bats
7) Stoats
8) Horses (excl Shire)
9) Mountain Goats
10) Moths
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I just did two more of those quiz things. I came out as Athena and Jerry Seinfeld. Not particularly likeable either way.
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Like a fucking idiot I didn't check how many episodes there were of the Trials of Life. So last night I'm all like, hey hey, half way through disc 2, one whole DVD to go of animal behaviour, when the voiceover says, "but that is not where it ends. The greatest and final trial, that of continuing the line, will be dealt with next week." I check the third volume and it's just some filthy fifty minute making-of documentary. Cheers. That was worth the extra disc. I'll finish it tonight then, to my eyes prematurely. Don't get me wrong, I have more Attenborough to go, namely Life in the Freezer (only six half hour episodes. Gutted.) and Life of Birds. Birds! The worst of all animals! "And here we have... some bird... look at his filthy dance... umm... look at his feathers... Right... what else? Oh yeah, check out his nest." Brilliant.
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Would reading the autobiography of Malcolm X in public make me look like the biggest try-hard prick out?

Yes. Yes I think it would.
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Why are anti-oxidants good? Surely oxidants are a positive thing to have in one's body... whatever they are.
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A small windowless room. Me and a middle aged Samoan born again Christian. The conversation is to die for.
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Earlier I was listening to Nick Drake's Bryter Layter. Now it's Blonde on Blonde. Next I may put on Frank Sinatra '57 - Concert. This morning, I fear, I am the world's whitest man.
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Nightmare Before Christmas!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

I must admit, I didn't see that one coming. Quite pleased though. It could have been better, Pirates of the Caribbean, but it could have been worse - all the others.

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I've not had any coffee or booze for almost two days. Thinking about shaving my head tonight. I'm turning into Moby.
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Kylie: overrated? (Particularly sex appeal-wise)
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A t-shirt waiting to happen.


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Hmmm... think I committed last night to go to the Eurovision Song Contest in Anchora. I certainly agreed to a champagne breakfast in Henry's followed by a visit to Clink.

A one hundred gun salute to James for staggering in this morning at eight o'clock. Stout fellow!
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This morning: I'm not drinking again for a while.
Five minutes ago: James - want to meet for a drink after work?
Me - Get thee behind me Satan! No! Ok...
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Cuckoos are invading my nest. I keep getting caught in the corridors doing Bob Dylan impressions by fits. AND I look the ab-sol-ute filth today. First time in two years I've worn my glasses to work, bloodshot, bleary eyes, lifeless hair and my worst clothes. Hiiiiii.

Number of cups of coffee today: 10


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Another highlight from last night, Dan gave me a free copy of Client's latest single and album. Worth it for the inlay cards alone.
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CD news: Dan has my CDs in his office. Yay! I won't have to rebuy Pop Goes the 80s. (£3.99, Woolworths)
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Is "Wolfish Grin" a good name for a band?
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Highlights of last night:

- Managing to sneak in the Gourds version of Gin and Juice, God Gave Rock n’ Roll to You, Slade, Been Caught Stealing and What You Need is Jesus (Public Enemy).
- Getting drunk for free.


Lowlights:

- Hangover
- Losing my CDs somewhere between Kingston and Streatham.

Oh well. Can’t win ‘em all.

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Last night I dreamt that I couldn’t for the life of me remember Pierce Brosnan’s name. The nearest I could get was Piers Morgan. Jennifer Anniston was in there somewhere too, which came as a surprise, albeit a welcome one.
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Comedy of errors at vending machine. Suffice to say, I wanted one packet of crisps. I now have two and a Snickers, yet am still 30p down on the deal.
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I'm swear I've heard somewhere of single people complaining that their friends are forever trying to set them up. I must be mistaken.
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Two blogs I really should have bigged up by now. Tim's H.U.H? is very good. Right on brother, say I. Also, Richard's "Mebay" is a great idea for a worthy cause.
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Yes, actually I am listening to Rod Stewart. What of it?
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Relating to last one. I would never pick steak. A packet of Krackawheat, a tub of Flora and some good cheddar would be my choice.
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Thanks to Kelvin/Vinnie for this. Check out number 253. What a prince.
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You wouldn't want my traaawseers to fall daaawn, naaow, would yoooo?

(Wild cheering)
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And the button has just come off my trousers. Brilliant.
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Quiz: What is Tom Paulin talking about?

"...He takes on everything. He rides what Blake calls the tigers of wrath and articulates and witnesses total deprivation..."

and,

"It takes on power structures in the United States in a most remarkable way."

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Dear Diary,

I've just found out that K--- T----, that Japanese girl I always thought had a bit of a crush on me, is married. That's the second time that's happened recently. Weird. Wondering if my present chattiness is anything to do with not being hungover. Quite possibly. So far today I've listened to The Rising by the Boss and Big Star's No. 1 record. Fulfillingness' First Finale and Gilded Palace of Sin next I think. I do have my CDs for later here though, so I could put The Greatest Hits of Kiss on later. Might be a bit embarrassing if someone comes in though.
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Right, well you know how I’m on my own at the moment? Well, everyone at the other office calls me and gets me to send files over. The room I’m in is full of shelves on tracks – you move them to get between them and get files out. Do you know what I mean? Well, I’m supposed to turn everything off when I leave at night. Anyway, I forgot yesterday and nothing works today. I’m having to push all the shelves around by hand. Yeah, they’re pretty heavy, I’m not all sweaty or anything though. The rest of the time I’m running up and down stairs, so I get a workout at the same time. I can’t report it either as I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. Just turned them all off and hoping it’ll sort itself out.
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This is my fear.
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DJing again tonight. Welcome to the Jungle or Sweet Child O'Mine? And which Serge Gainsbourg? Ballade de Melody Nelson probably.
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In 1584 some items were stolen from Walter Ralegh's wardrobe. Their value exceeded the yearly cost of running most households, including servants.
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