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Ditto... and everything else, only took me a few weeks...

When I was in my formative years I hung out with a lot of conspiracy theorist types. Their big beef is that they reckon one day in the future the people "who really control this world" will try to get everyone microchipped. Some theorists have even put a deadline on it, 2012AD*.

Now ten or fifteen years ago all of their ideas seemed, to me rather silly but fun to indulge. I remember having a discussion with one of my more 'out there' mates about the idea of something called Problem - Reaction - Solution which has been popularised by David Icke. The idea goes that "they" create a problem, something like a terrorist attack. Then "they" handle the reaction and come up with a solution which suits "their" needs. For example the right to detain people without trial, declare war on other countries, set up a one world government. Y'know, that sort of thing.

I remember sitting in the Hallam FM studio on the 11th of September in 2001 getting flashbacks of all those crazy conversations which I'd had about how they'd one day do something horrible in order to speed up the attack on human rights which would be required to further this "agenda". It seemed like we were suddenly heading into the crazy world which had been an amusing diversion for me a few years hence.

The most absurd part of the "agenda" was the idea that one day we would all be required by law to have microchips inserted under our skin. To me this was always one of the silliest parts of it. It kept the conspiracy theorists firmly in the fictional world as far as I was concerned**. Just the idea that people would be okay with the idea on any level whatsoever seems absurd to me.

However today a mate of mine emailed me this story:click here

So perhaps that's how they do it? Get the fat cattle who worship these footballer types to follow suit? Genuinely still in shock over this story. I've been in shock about it all day. Amazing.


*According, I think, to a bloke called Terrence McKenna we're supposed to hit enlightenment in that year or something. I'm not actually an expert on all this but if you're bored and paranoid go on the internet ride of your life. Look for David Icke, Alex Jones and go watch that Loose Change film I've been raving about on here for months. It's in the sidebar.

**It's second only to David Icke's wacky claims that the world is actually controlled not by a clique of boring businessmen as you might expect but actually by shape changing lizards from the 4th dimension.

Oh... my... God... I need to stop playing on Sim City!!!

Wayne sends me this email*:

What exactly happend between you and the loaf?
I've heard you say you didn't get on too well once when you interviewed the big guy and your new blog entry shows you don't like him. I've never met the guy but always liked his Bat Out of Hell album and thought he'd be a generally typical down to earth type of Yank (if you can get a down to earth Yank :0)

I used to do the afternoon show on Hallam FM, the slot currently occupied by my good friend Matt Mackay. One day I was sat there playing my playlisted songs when one of those annoying "can you play me a song" call came in. The reason these calls are an irritant is because the honest answer is: "no I can't I have no choice over the songs we play, they're picked out by a computer programme which uses data collected by EMAP plc". I've never liked request shows anyway. Why play one daft c#nt's "favourite" song when there are literally thousands of other people listening? Who gives a s#it? Play the most popular songs. Anyway, I digress.

This particular song came from an odd, well spoken woman who was asking for Meatloafs's new song. She got something along the lines of this response:

Me: "No chance luv, he's a has been."

Her: (shocked) "No he's not, he's doing a new tour and this new album is one of his best, bat out of hell etc"

"No it's not. He's rubbish. Lemme tell you something... only way I'll ever play him is if he calls me and asks me personally. Other than that not a chance."

If she continued to protest at this it's possible I explained the playlist system to her in excruciating detail. That's my favourite trick. Persistant request callers often get an obsecenely intricate account of how and why Hallam FM plays the songs it does. I think most of my collegues just fob them off with an "okay mate, I'll see what I can do"**.

It turned out that the woman in question was the chair of the UK branch of Meatloaf's feverishly devoted fanclub. Two or three months later my boss at the time got very excited when Meatloaf actually did ring Hallam FM all the way from America during my show to ask for his song to be played. With the bosses' permission we played the tune after I was theatrically told off by Mr Meat. Hilarious family fun on your radio.

A year or so later I was doing the phone-in show under the guise of an altogether more sharp, biting personna***. Ranting and raving about fat popstars I made some barbed comment about Meatloaf because as you will know, he's a fat c#nt. I can only presume she was listening that night because when he came to do his tour and performed in Sheffield two people confirmed the following quote to me:

"Gee I know this is the Hallam FM Arena an' all but that Nick at Night, man, don't let a jerk like that tell you how to run your life".

What? The? Fnck?

I had a go on air about it of course. Something along the lines of:

" shut up you fat pr#ck. You're paid to sing, I'm paid to talk. The day you're paid to talk is the day you're allowed an opinion. "

Like I said, I was a little less "family friendly" back then.

Anyway, that is the deal between me and Meatloaf. And I look a bit like him. Particularly when I have long hair.


*Does a lot of commenting under the name Leatherface in the comments section.

**I say fob off. Some of them do request features. Not a chance I'll ever be doing one of those. Far too much hassle. Why ignore all the research EMAP does? Silly.

***This is the early version of the show when Ben was producing and every other call was an argument.

its path is without mercy

I've fallen in love with the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Me and the lady went there yesterday. This is the second time I've been in as many as seven days. My mate James has described it to me as being like a theme park for the mind. I'd agree with that.

This time we went to see some light sculptures. Three big rooms which are totally pitch black save for what I can only describe as neon light projections at one end. One of them was a perfect void. You could look deep into the abyss, with all the inherent consequences of such a course of action*.

There was one room which I'd cautiously warn you about before I describe it. If you're planning to ever go to this place don't read my description here. It'd ruin the surprise. If not, read on...

You go into this pitch black room. You can't see a thing, just a dim light at the end of the room. So what did me and the lady do? Cling to the wall and shuffle towards the bench in the corner that we'd been told about. Then we sat down and looked at the dim light on the other wall.

"Stupid. This modern art stuff is stupid."

Shuffling out of the room we bumped into the guide. We explained we were a bit confused.

"Did you go over to the light and touch it?"

"Um.. no, are we allowed to do that?"

"Yeah, there's nothing in your way, just walk over to it and try to touch it."

This time we shuffled towards the dim light in the corner. As we went it started to get brighter. Eventually it looked like a bright light, there was a divide which came up just above your waist keeping us from actually touching it but you could reach your arm out into it. Behind us is pitch black. There we are looking into this light which seemed to go on quite a way. There were no clear markings to denote another wall beyond the partition or indeed a floor and we'd been told there was quite a drop down there. I think mainly to put people off trying to climb over the partition.

I glanced behind me to see what the shuffling noise was.

The whole room was no longer dark.

It was like a dimly lit room. I could clearly see people shuffling around like fools, just as me and my girlfriend had done when we first came in. My eyes had adjusted to the extreme darkness by looking into this neon light!

Unbelieveable. A total head-fu#k. The work of art was almost being completed by the image of people behind me, stumbling timidly in total darkness, too afraid to approach the light directly.

As I'm sure you'll agree, that works on many levels.

I then turned back, looked into the light and totally buggered up the illusion, Mr Bean style, by leaning over the partition and then dropping my sunglasses into the light. Fu#knut. They'd been perched in my breast pocket. There they lay on the floor behind the partition. Revealing there wasn't much of a drop. Cue loads of people going - "oh look, it's just a room with a neon light in it. Now you can see the floor there where that fat lad's glasses have landed".

Ruined the illusion.

Ahh- but, had I ruined it, OR enhanced it**? Given it new meaning perhaps?


*Aren't I a smart ar#e? I'm tacitly referencing
Nietzsche there. Oh yes! He's a proper clever boffin he is. I've read all his books. The full quote is, "Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the Abyss, the Abyss gazes also into you." God I'm amazing me. Actually, no I'm not. I read part of that quote in The Watchmen by Alan Moore. It's a comic book. Comics are where most of my more interesting bits come from. F#ck me I'm a nerd.

**Well, obviously I'd ruined it. The member of staff who had to go round and fish out my glasses with a hook would confirm that for you.

The Sigyl kicks in...

"Everything's changing" sing Keane. I'm not keen on Keane. Their current song is quite good but their lead singer's fat* so. My flatmate's just got himself a new job down south. I went through a strange mixture of feelings as he told me. Obviously I was pleased for him but at the same time I was gutted as I won't see him anymore. We're best friends as well as just flatmates.

Obviously he's said that we'll see him on the weekends and so forth but in reality we won't. People never do. Not really.

Well okay some of them do.

Girls seem to be particularly good at that sort of thing. My girlfriend has an extensive network of mates all over the country. I have loads of people who I know whom I have to have that weird sort of "hello again" period with where you wonder why it is you didn't keep in touch. Thoughts like "they're cool, why didn't I bother to keep communications going with them? They're not secretly weird and I've forgotten are they? No. No, it's just that I'm lazy".

Without mobile phones and the internet I'd have lost touch with most of the people I've ever met.

Hey ho.

I must admit I'm not looking forward to moving our massive couch out to a new place.


*Nothing wrong with being fat. Apart of course from the health risks and the fact it makes you look less like a rockstar. I'm fat. But I don't pretend to be a rockstar. Like, for example, Meatloaf who is officially a c#nt. Feel free to add famous fat popstars into the comments section of this entry. Dane Bowers. He's a fatty as well isn't he? I'm ace me.

One month... that's all ya got...

I went to watch a film called "Fearless" at the UGC in Sheffield today. It was a great film. Very of its genre, which in this instance was a Kung-Fu film. All about honour and so forth. Loads of great fight scenes though. It was apparently based on a true story.

Quite a few blokes came in to watch it on their own. I've done that once before. I found it liberating. Notice the operative word there though is, once. I clearly didn't enjoy myself that much. I wondered as these lonely men wandered into the cinema if they too found it liberating. Perhaps they just felt lonely. It's hard to know without talking to them. Something I obviously didn't do. Only weirdos go to the cinema on their own.

Some time ago me and my Mother went to see the Silence of The Lambs sequel. When we did we were the only people in there aside from some other bloke who looked like a tramp. As we watched the film he took it upon himself to breathe rapidly, frequently and loudly during the film. Then as it got more gory he decided to start finding it very funny. Giggling away to himself like a scary fool.

Nothing came of it beyond that. But he ruined the film a bit by scaring us slightly.

Or perhaps he enhanced it? We were after all there to watch something scary.


(sunday) Closing it down, slowly but certainly.

If there's one strip alone which encouraged me to subscribe to 2000AD again it was Slaine as written by Pat Mills and illustrated by Clint Langley. Clint's website is [external link].

This guy's artwork is beyond amazing. What particularly excites me about it is that when he does a comic strip the whole thing looks like that. From start to finish. Genius. It was therefore exciting to get the following reply from his website when I wrote him an email to say his pictures were cool:

Hi Nick,
Thanks for checking out the website and glad to hear you like my work.
All the best,

As I was writing this I got a bit of a surprise. One of my favourite internet stars has broken through into mainstream telly. I'm in shock. Genuine shock. Good shock - but shock all the same. It's left me a little stunned. Allow me to start the story right back at the start.

There's a website in my sidebar which has some old audio of the phone in show. Sometime ago I looked at it and there was a call on there apparently made by Darren from Fat-pie. Here there was a link to a fantastic website which totally blew me away. Very funny. I liked it so much I put a link to it from my old 'blog which used to be hosted on the Hallam FM website. Here's the old entry (copyright of EMAP etc.)

06 Jun 2005

Communication is only possible between equals.

Hi Nick !!
i have an idea for a topic on nick at night. I think you should have the topic 'Your Favourite Quote'. I am fascinated by quotes.Would please mention my quote if you decide to do this topic.My favourite quote is 'Some people are born with greatness.Some people acheive greatness and some people have greatness thrust upon them' as i am a big fan of boxing i think that quote is quite touching and really can bring beleif out of people !!

Thanks Nick


Robert in South Yorkshire:

That Website is a bit odd, dont you think? It explains a lot about you but it freaked me out a bit, some of your fans must really have problems, Cuthbert's calling gang? Basset's sweet factory? what on earth is this guy smoking? It also has very annoying music.

Ben in Rotherham:

Hi Nick,
I remeber you saying on thursdays show that you have a wiered sense of humor. This site is full of it

--- This last site isn't as good in my opinion as the gloriously wrong website. However it's not bad. I just hate -ahem- "comedy" songs. I used to do them myself and they're really a lame way of admitting you're out of ideas.*

It's the final weblink I want to draw your attention to. There's some video on there which is very funny. The animations are good but it's the Devo stuff which stands out. From that point onwards I became a regular viewer. I tried to get hold of the guy to do an interview with him but never got a reply. Shame.

What struck me about it was how f#cking hardcore the humour was. Anything that is capable of both making you laugh and making you a little scared is worthwhile. Now I've seen an advert for it on E4. It's sure to be a huge success. It's ace.

I'm in shock.


*Oh dear. I recently wrote a "comedy song" which I'm recording tomorrow. Ahem. Ruined.

I just can't wait for (saturday)

Arrgh. I'm struggling with a very slightly watery left eye. If I leave it there ends up being a little pool of water in the corner which is literally crying for attention. If I wipe it with my finger the problem gets slowly worse. I made it really bad last week by wiping and then itching it for ages until I looked like I'd been punched in the face.

The thing is, there's an element of satisfaction involved in wiping it which is hard to ignore. It's a bit like my athlete's foot in that I quite enjoy sorting it out with a quick itch or wipe. I had a simmilar problem with ear wax [backlink to a previous entry]. My hearing got progressively worse but I enjoyed the fact that every now and then I'd have a particularly successful dig into my ear.

"Look at the size of that - wow. Plucked that out of my ear. Grr! I'm a man."

However I'm struggling with the temptation and trying not to wipe it. Today I was sat in Regents Park in London in lovely sunny weather. The watery eye is caused by hayfever. This ment it was a real struggle not to wipe it. I managed though. Partly due to sunglasses I'd bought earlier*.

It was a really nice day. We were in London because it was my girlfriend's birthday and she's got a lot of friends who live round there. They all came along and drank wine and talked and listened to the radio we'd brought with us. One of them had made brownies**! I managed to get a little tiddly in the hot sun***.

Some of my friends also turned up. One of them works in local politics and the other works in television. The latter thinks I should come and work with him as a TV presenter. I laso spoke to someone who thinks they might be able to put me in touch with some magazines to develop my writing a bit. I'll tell you if either of them go anywhere. I'm sure I could combine them with my current job. I've got oodles of spare time [backlink to previous entry].


*£15 for sunglasses. What. The. Fu#k? My girlfriend rolls my eyes at this comment but I'm sorry that's big cash for what are, after all, only sunglasses.

**Weight watchers has had a bit of a beating this weekend. Ruined. I'm back on it solidly now but I think I'm getting a little co#ky with it.

***We also went out later in the day and I couldn't get drunk. It seems to be impossible to get drunk twice in one day. I've never sussed out why this is.

Faster than the speed of thought.

Most newspaper articles are, I think, designed to irritate people. One thing which has annoyed me recenty is the idea of footballers and their "WAGs". What annoys me is that this is supposed to be an abbreviation of Wives and Girlfriends. However whenever a journalist uses this abbreviation they also have to explain what it stands for. Surely this defeats the point? It's the trick of a TWAT* perhaps?

Actually I think the idea behind it is to spread a meme. Much in the same way as the word "chav" was a few years ago. This idea, very much of our time, is that ideas and concepts can be spread from human mind to human mind much like a computer virus. Media TWATs get a kick out of spreading them. The experiment is a success when a non-media person uses the phrase in conversation. I presume that "WAGs" is a phrase designed to foster a dislike a jealous feeling towards the women who it targets.

It has less a channce of catching on compared to "chav" though. That phenomenon was amazing. Watching all the human cattle pick up on a word which hadn't existed less than five years ago. A word perfectly designed to oppress them, being used with such glee. The lower ranks of the pyramid spitting down on those even further beneath them.

Amazing really.

It's a good job I'm immune to mind control and can see through this media circus isn't it readers? Anyway, I'm off to watch Big Brother now. Can't wait to boo at the screen. I'm ace.


*Tired writer and typer.

But I lost 3lbs at weight watchers... 1/2lb more and I've done a stone

I walk down to the shop and its raining. It's not heaving it down, it's just like walking through a cloud. I'm wet as I get to the shop and on the way in I can hear a kid who isn't old enough to talk. He's shouting something quite loudly but at first it's just white noise. I'm surprised that his mother hasn't told him to shut up. She seems to be ignoring him. Then I realise he's shouting "Eng Er Land" at the top of his voice. It's possibly one of the few words he knows.

Electric doors open for me as I walk through into the all purpose shop which is run by a huge corporation. I'm over to the stationary section where I'm looking for stuff. I'm confronted by a store display which sells games that glorify the war our country is currently fighting. They've got titles like "Blackhawk Down" with pictures of handsome soldiers fighting in Iraq against fierce odds.

I walk back with my goods having paid, not with money but with a little plastic card. As I walk back up the hill I'm pleased to see it's not raining. It amuses me to see the people in their cars sat, in mettle boxes, with anger on their faces. There's a big queue of them. But I'm coughing a little. There's something odd in the air. Then I realise I'm choking on their fumes.

Somedays the world seems very cold and harsh.

Glad today's not one of those days eh?*


*My girlfriend's up today I gave her a hug and felt happier.

They've got a camera in the studio so I can't pick my nose anymore.

I went for a lovely wander around the Yorkshire sculpture park[external link to their site] today with the infamous and perhaps in many ways demonic James Piekos. There were loads of great sculptures and exhibts there, we didn't get the time to cover them all. We had to dash off but got to see most of it.

There were loads of kind of "modern art" sculptures there. Some of which were good and others which were rubbish.

In the "good" category:

-A video sculpture of Gilbert and George. Just a black and white video of the two stood there not doing anything. One of them having a little toke on his fag very occasionally. The film was slowed down a little and there was a thunder soundtrack to it. Ace. Really ace.

-Also there was a hanging armchair which was suspended above a gas fire and a sort of mocked up camp fire. The effect was that the armchair was the smoke and the campfire had been birthed by the gas fire. I'm not describing it very well but it was a great piece. Really quite clever.

In the "crap" category:

-A canvas with stones stuck on it. Including bricks.*

-A pile of socks.**

That's in no way a complete list of all the stuff we saw. There's loads of bits and bobs up there. It's just off the M1 North of Barnsley if you're one of the people who read this and live locally.

I think art gets mired by its association with academia. The fact you learn about it at school brings in a sort of compettitive element which should really be absent from such things. The classic comment being: "ah - I could do that, that's not art". What do people think they mean when they're saying that? Do they want people to turn round and applaud them? Does the fact that a little nobody like you can make it in some way mean it's worthless, like you? Silly. But hard to resist and I thought it once or twice as we went round***.

I think I always feel a little worried that I'm being conned by these things. I can't help it. However the older I get the more I'm able to relax and just enjoy it. It's fun. My memories of it being something I had to do right in order to get a grade are faded enough.

It struck me as we walked around how profoundly mad art is. It's almost like a freakshow of the mind. Artists are crazy and they entertain us with this fact. I guess it's better than just hearing voices and chopping people up. That's so last year.


So my athlete's foot, excma whatever has come back a little, just at the top. Not quite enough to make me really worry but, y'know. I should have kept up my doctor's appointments. But I didn't. I've been too busy looking at this amusing website. Even though it's a bit wrong. I bet evil James Piekos would like it. Log onto it and tell me what you think:


**Even more sh#t.

***Because I could easily pile up some socks and with a little effort stick rocks on canvas. I could you know. I'm ace me. No I'm not.

Giddy gumdrops are not what you are imagining.

I was driving to meet a mate of mine and I passed a poster board* with "Love Football" written in the Coke font. I think it might have had "Coke" written on it somewhere as well. Scrawled over the top was what looked like, "We like football but we don't like you, now f#ck off". It struck me as poignient that some poor football fan had had it with corporate sponsors screwing the game they loved so much. However, I really liked the fact someone had bothered to redress the balance.

I turned the car round to get another look and realised it actually said: "We don't like football and we don't like you. Now fu#k off". This wasn't in anyway sad, simply funny. I loved it. Someone had written over an advert, telling them to f#ck off. Genius. Why don't more vandals do things like that? Instead of tw#tting phone boxes scrawl over posters. There's a beauty to it. It lends a certain air of intelligence to the act of destruction.

One of the reasons is of course that you're more likely to be caught and punished if you screw with a big company like that. Our society values adverts more than it does bus stops. I presume. Actually, I'm just pumping out guff there. The proof will be in the pudding with this one. If the poster is rectified today while I'm on my way to the gym then I'm right to criticise our societies priorities. If not and if that scrawl stays for a few weeks I'll actually feel more optimistic about the world.

My cousin used to photograph graffiti. He was/is a very cool person. I always thought it'd be cool to be a bit more like him but I never quite managed it. He was a big fan of rap music, Run DMC - NWA and so forth. I still remember his diplomatic response to me thinking Salt and Pepa and Vanilla Ice were good records which he really should own if he wanted to be "with it".


*Now if I were worth my salt as a local radio presenter I'd know exactly which road this was on. It was near Hillsborough. Sort of near Broomhill. F#ck it. I don't actually know. Bo#llocks. Local radio DJ's are supposed to know this sort of stuff. I've lived in Sheffield for years and I don't know anything. Ruined.

Albert Einstein is licking my ears

I'm a bad person. I did a bad thing. Sometime ago I spent a whole blog entry slagging some bloke who was once on Big Brother. People keep logging onto this site via one about him and his band. I'd tried in the past to register to his site but it didn't let me. Last night I managed to get it to work and logged on to the private discussion about my evil words. Here's an edited version of what I found*:

Babuska posted:

I just found this delightful piece online. [Here he's posted a direct cut and paste of this entry].

It's probably safe to assume that he's got a tracker on his blog so next time he fires up his stats he'll know we've found him. Who knows, we may even get a visit

Steph posted:

James Piekos he's a viking fm dj. this article :yuck:


Is he now? Hmm......interesting. I hadn't got around to googling him yet. Thanks for that.

Dan Bryan:

Babs that James guy? Does he work for VIKING?I've got to dash off.I think he was possibly trying to be 'wry' and 'funny' seems there's clearly a spark plug mis-firing somewhere.


James Piekos is now with Viking. Used to be with Hallam. I think he's on now if you put the radio on. The one who wrote the blog is with Hallam. It's all on the links babe.

And I don't think he's trying to be wry. It's a nasty little piece. I think we need to get hold of a copy of Plegm (whatever that is) to see what is it he's written about you in there.


I think he is trying to be funny, and to the right audience, he will have succeeded. Not my idea of funny though.


To be honest I'm not so much bothered about what's being said (although it's nasty) it's more a case of who's saying it. I'd have thought DJs on local stations should be supporting local talent rather than setting their mates up to rip it to pieces.

Dan Bryan:

Cheers for that guys, Of course we are all right but I can't waste m,y energy on twats like that.He's clearly not talented and quite bitter about it. When Have i ever been a 'victim'? That proves he has no grasp of what he's trying to say.Imagine if i was presenting a radioshow on local radio instead (which for the record I can do standing on my head) he would've slagged me off just the same.I bet he's got halitosis.


Halitosos or not, we know he's a fat b[#]stard (he said so hmself) I'm still more cross with the Viking guy who sent him the article so they could have a laugh at you together :(


A little update on that for you all [here he reprints this entry in full]

[highlighting the following]
"dan-bryan" - a bloke who was on Big Brother some time ago. I slagged him off (perhaps a little too viciously according to my girlfriend) a while ago. I'm on page 11 of a web search on this guy. Who reckons it was him who leafed though the preceeding pages?

To which Dan Bryan replies:

Bless.There you have it. The girlfreind clearly loves me and the poor little boy feels jealous.I tell you what...I'll shag him!

Right. So now I'm facing a bit of a dilemma. He doesn't seem too arsed about it, although some of his fans were a bit annoyed. I reckon he'll be thick skinned nowadays. However on the other hand I think I was out of line giving him such a slagging. I was using him as an archetype. He represented, "That Bloke Off Big Brother". You know, the one who you're not quite sure who they are. Bubble or Bobble or something. There's a few of him.

You know the sort of person "type" I'm talking about. They turn up on TV all the time and you almost but don't quite recognise them. I love 1997 and oops - there's some bloke off Big Brother.

What has actually happened is that it looks now like I've singled the poor sod out for attention. Which I sort of have and sort of haven't**. In reality I realise, this is a person not a caricature. And although he doesn't seem upset*** I feel the need to apologise and put things right. I'm going to look like a t#at when I do it but I think it's the only honourable thing to do.

Either that or I'll go on there and post that actually I agree with Babushka: "I'm still more cross with the Viking guy". In many ways I think he's right. James is the real villain here. Not me. I'm almost an innocent bystander. Ok, so he never asked me to write anything on my blog and yes, many may argue that he's had hardly anything to do with it but I think we can all see how he's actually the one to blame for this whole sorry mess.


*Dan Bryan is the bloke who was on Big Brother.

**For example, I suggest that I've written about him in Phlegm. I have and I haven't. It's a short comic strip called "That Bloke Off Big Brother" which I'd written last year. It's about the archetype he represents. Someone who sort of is, but actually isn't, famous. One of these guys clearly think I've written and published a character assasination piece about him.

***Actually he very cleverly tells me to f- off. Sort of. See, nice things. Don't hate me all of his fans. I don't want millions of Dan Bryan fanatics getting all annoyed with me. It's only a silly blog. My girlfriend already told me off about all this.

(sunday) Shabba has his pop stanks in the car... that way no one can see them

So now I am connected to the internet. This is exciting for me. I've spent ages preparing for this moment and once it finally arrived it was time to go to work. Ruined.

One question I've been firmly putting in its place is the "ha ha - great you'll be able to get loads of porn on it". No. No I won't. Mainly because if it goes wrong the person who will be fixing it for me will be my Mum. I want there to be no risk whatsoever that when she logs on to fix it she will encounter "Big breasted hussies IV" or whatever. Not gonna happen. Also, there'd be nothing worse than ruining your computer with a virus caught off a porno. It'd be like catching an STD*.

So anywhoo. No porn. Just going to use it to plan terrorist attacks**.

One thing I have noticed about my computer is that it seems intent on me using a particular internet browser - email account etc. I'm not a fan of computers when they tell you what's happening. I think it's the wrong way round. I'm surely supposed to be the boss?

Can you imagine trying to explain to your great grand parents that we'd have machines which would actually talk to you and tell you how to set up your broadband and so forth. Crazy. I wonder what our great grandkids will have to put up with in the future?

No oil and a poor standard of living?


*Once is enough for me. Never again. Like pi#sing razorblades. Ha ha. See, that was a joke that was. I've never even had a sex. I mean, sorry, a sexually transmitted disease. God I'm so funny. I even make myself laugh with my hillaryarse comments. Actually no I'm not. Sex is a very serious thing. Or is it? Perhaps not. I'm confused. Not sexually. There's no confusion there, eh lads? I like birds me. Big ones. Not fat. Just. Help. I can't stop writing.

**Seriously though, that bit is a joke. And terrorism is a very serious thing. Just a shame the police don't seem to be serious about it. - joke. They're very serious and so is everything and I'm not a terrorist. I'm not an anything "ist" apart from an athiest. And best-ist. At everything. Apart from jokes. Ruined.

(saturday) There's a certain type of Jesus

I've bought a copy of Viz comic and I was disappointed to see that they haven't used any of my 'hilarious' letters that I wrote to them. They never replied after I sent my submission. Tharg hasn't replied to my latest short story either. I guess I'm not a comedy genius or the world's greatest sci-fi storyteller. At least not yet. However I'm on the verge of getting a computer in my house. An actual computer in my house that is connected to the internet. This will be a massive lifestyle change. It means I won't be sat at work until the early morning sun staring blankly at the computer screens there, checking out That website is my current addiction.

I have a fear that I'll get hooked on some daft computer game. That's almost inevitable. Sim City has already been bought for me. that's going to get some hammer. As is anything else I can get my hands on. Oh dear!

I remember the coolest Xmas ever was the one where I got a ZX Spectrum. Then I remember getting a Commodore 64. Awesome. The music and graphics on that were amazing. Then my conception of what was possible got turned inside out by The Amiga. It was such a shell shock that ultimately I sort of quit on computers around that point. I felt like they had got too complex for me. I could programme a ZX Spectrum and a Commodore 64 to a lesser extent. But an Amiga was beyond my grasp.

Following that I got a Playstation. By that point my interest in games had changed. They seemed too easy somehow. Too childish.

Now I plan to spend some time learning how these things work so I can do interesting stuff with mine. I'm going to do crazy stuff, you know, like read the manual an' that. Grr!

I've built a desk and a chair for it in my room. Self assembly kit. The chair's a bit f&cked. Got it from Argos.

Oh it's exciting.

It's also the most money I've ever spent on anything outside of tax bills.


(friday) Closer inspection revealed it wasn't

My jaw keeps clicking in the morning. My Mum says it's because I must be grinding my teeth in my sleep. This seems a bit silly to me. It's not the sort of thing I do. At least not as far as I'm aware. But then again I wouldn't know as I'd be asleep. I used to have an awful recurring dream where I'd closed my mouth really tightly the wrong way round. My bottom teeth would be clamped over my front ones and there was no way of unlocking them. At least not without breaking things. It'd usually result in me waking up with a fright.

Then there's the classic dream where your teeth fall out. There are various interpretations of this. Some people think it means you're lying or think others are lying to you. Others feel it's to do with being powerless. I think it's just a wacky horrible dream.

Mum says you grind your teeth because you've got a loose filling sometimes and that it's something I should go to the dentists about. Excuse me. F&ck that! I hate going to the dentist. I'm not going because I sometimes (well - most times, okay, every day) have a clicky jaw in the morning. It's not a terrible thing. It's sort of satisfying sometimes. You can feel the click coming on and pop it's done.

Bit like when people pop their fingers. I've never understood the attraction with that one though. Locking and cracking your fingers seems to have gone out of fashion these days but I remember when I was younger there was a bit of a craze going on for it. Then a load of scare stories went round that it gave you arthritis. Perhaps that's what killed it off.

I remember very clearly the relish with which some people would click their fingers around others who would be disgusted by the habit. "Ohhh, I hate it when people do that" and you could bet some obnoxious oaf would go "ho ho, what, this you mean?" cue clicks. Now I don't like the noise of clicky fingers but I soon sussed out the best way to avoid hearing it was not to admit this.

Exactly the same logic behind me pretending not to be particularly bothered by spiders. Admit you're scared of spiders and at some point in your life a "hilarious" t&at will run up to you with a spider going "there's nothing to be scared of". You have my permission to scare them back. Maybe with the threat of physical violence? Your call.


Figgy wiggy, figgy wiggy, wiggy figgy.

Hallam FM has shut down early in anticipation of the England match. I'm sat with my good friend Mr Boy typing up my 'blog with the TV blaring in the background. I've just listened to some "pundits" talking about the oncoming game. They were literally saying this like: "it'll be great if they can win this, not so good if they lose". Well f#ck me what a genius. I could do that job and I've only watched two games of football in my life. Ever. -tssk. Off goes the telly. Phoneboy's gone down stairs to watch it on his own. I think I put him off by slagging it off so much.

In the past I've joked that the reason I didn't like football was because I always had to be the fat kid in goal. Football to me was having a big leather ball kicked in my fat face while I watched to see if anyone stole the makeshift goalposts; my jumper and pants. This image is boll#cks. Me and my little clique of friends just didn't play football. My dislike of the sport goes back even further than that. To Primary School where I didn't play it either. But not because I was fat or anything like that. As a kid I was actually quite slim and athletic. The chubby Nick came only with the introduction of the Commodore Amiga into my life.

At primary school I was obsessively rebellious. I would always try to go against the grain. I'm not sure why. It may have been the influence of my favourite comic The Beano*. It may have been something genetic. I'm not sure. I had a happy home life. I just liked disagreeing with the status quo. So much so that I used the lexicon of the time and argued that forcing boys to play football was sexist and that teachers were ingraining sexist attitudes into the pupils. This arguement curried favour with the mostly middle class parents who eventually backed my "campaign" for mixed sex sports lessons. Great. I got to play netball.

In later life I worried that this made me gay. I'd wanted to play netball with the girls.

In later life after that I thought it made me seem very hetrosexual. I wanted to play with girls.

Now I'm older and the hormones and sexual doubt have faded I realise I was just an annoying little kid who enjoyed arguing with people about trivial things.


*Seriously. My two favourite strips were The Bash Street Kids and Roger the Dodger both of whom had naughty disobedient characters. Also, the latter famously didn't like football. Interesting.

So I gained half a pound...

The magpie which has been sat outside our flats for some time has finally been taken care of. I decide it was time to take matters into my own hands and as it was in the car park the solution was simple. I got in my car and did the decent thing. Reversed over its tiny body. It was an awful thing to have to do but if I'm honest as its frail bones crunched under the rear tyres I sort of enjoyed the experience. I felt strangely powerful. Almost godlike.

I am of course joking. I'm far too lazy and self absorbed to sort anything out like that - as one of the comments on that entry sort of points out*.

I didn't get to feel godlike at all. Shame. Actually I think killing little birds for no reason is wrong. I'm dead against it. In fact I think killing birds for my own selfish reasons is also wrong. So I don't do it. Unlike God. Who seems to think it's okay to kill people as and when He chooses.

Y'know I got into a conversation with a mate of mine recently about The Pope. The old saying goes; "Do bears sh#t in the woods? Is the Pope Catholic?". The answer to both these questions is supposed to be a no brainer. "Duh - yeah, course". I think the first question is fairly easy but I'm not so sure about the second one. Regardless of how much someone may or may not enjoy their job there's one thing which seems to unite every human in the world. We're all very cynical - particularly about those things closest to us.

You'll not find a bigger cynic re:the radio industry than those people who work in it. They're the ones who can (and do) slag it off the most in their private moments, usually when the beer is flowing. It's the same of a mate of mine who works as a chef. He's always the first to complain if we eat out - in fact he rarely does eat out nowadays. He's the biggest cynic in the world as regards the catering industry. Another mate of mine works in teaching. Want to hear how rubbish the state of education is in the UK? Give her a call. I won't even mention my mate who works in the Police Force.

Whatever industry we work in we end up being its fiercest critic. We don't believe in it.
So is the Pope Catholic? Probably not. In fact it wouldn't surprise me if he was the biggest atheist out there.


*The actual conclusion to the story is this: one of my neighbours got involved and called the RSPCA who came and collected it. It will be released in the car park if it gets better which they think it will.

Knew the f#cking thing wouldn't work... knew it!

So, I'm flicking round the internet when I stumble across this story about Kate Ford who is Tracy off of Coronation Street. "Fair enough" you may say. "Didn't know you were a fan of Coronation Street but after your recent confessions about Big Brother nothing would surprise me Nicholarse..." a seasoned reader of this blog may add. "Stop using my thoughts to write your blog with" a smarta#sed reader who's a bit co#ky might then go on to say. This blog's title lends itself well to smart ar#es*.

Stop talking. I'm getting confused. Erm...

Kate Ford, yeah. Anyway so there's this story and my mind goes - "I used to know a girl called Kate Ford, she went to Youth Theatre with me, I fancied her like rotten, proper school boy crush. Ha! What a co-incidence. Hey ho". Then I suddently get a little confused, "she looked exactly like that actually, only younger".

Then I'm left wondering if it actually is her. It looks like her. All the other details match up. It is her. I think. I'm not sure.

Now - to clarify - I had a crush on her, she probably never thought twice about me. I was (and still am) the geeky fat kid in the corner who rarely said or did anything of much note. My two main memories of her are that I once snogged her during a game of spin the bottle and unlike most of the other girls she was polite and didn't pretend to theatrically gag afterwards**. That's memory number one.

Memory number two is slightly more embarrasing.

I'm sat gazing at her in a schoolboy crush type way***. I'm not really listening to what she's saying but it started with 'Such and such was really nasty to me..." and ended with "...yeah, so what do you think?"****.

Oh s#it. She stopped talking. It's time for me to say something. I don't really know what she was saying I was just enjoying the fact she was talking to me. Bo#locks. Erm... (and here's where it gets really embarrasing)

"They were probably horrible because your so pretty and they're jealous".

Good god what an insufferable pri#k I was back then. For some reason this really set her off though. Really upset her. I'd obviously said something out of context but she got really worked up and unhappy. I knew the moment I'd said it that it was an inane thing to say. I was still day dreaming. Now I had an unhappy person on my hands. Ruined.

"Or, um... maybe not?" didn't even help.

I'd said totally the wrong thing and should have been listening to her. Hey ho.

It'd be funny if it is the same person but there's a chance I've just got her mixed up. Looks like her though. And it's the same name. And I think I remember my sister telling me about it a few years ago. I'm not sure I wasn't really paying attention, I think Kylie was on MTV at the time.


*And in fairness it is written by one.

**Ha ha! They were a great laugh at Youth Theatre. One of the big jokes which we all thought was funny was to gag after kissing. Ha ha! Usually only when they'd kissed me. But we all thought it was hillaryarse.

***Female readers probably don't know what this means. Let me tell you this, if you had a male mate at school (or around that age) you've seen this look. Glazed eyes, head on their hands, contented smile as you yak on about tampons and New Kids on The Block or whatever it is girls used to talk about in those days.

****The trick to half listening to people is to focus on what they say at the beginning and end. If in doubt repeat what they just said to you when they pause. This would have worked here but I hadn't learned the trick back then. Eg: "what do I think?" - and she'd have given me hints as to what I SHOULD have said. Never fails.

Yesterday, I won a million pounds

The recent suicides at Guantanamo Bay were a [external link to The Daily] publicity stunt, according to a US diplomat. What a relief! There was me thinking that these people had killed themselves because they'd been driven mad by a desperate situation. Turns out they're just anxious to get some headlines; a tough call at the moment, what with Big Brother 7 and The World Cup!

What better way to get in the papers than by killing yourself? It worked for Kurt Cobain and matey out of INXS. You know that bloke who was nob#in' Kylie*. These terrorists really are nutters then aren't they? Killing themselves just to get a few headlines? Crikey.

That means these people must have managed to reduce human life the level of how many collumn inches it can generate for their cause. That is surely the logic of a psychopath? It's odd that they're so media-centric. Just like it was odd that that bloke who the Americans reckoned had been training in an Afganistan terror camp actually turned out to have been working in a branch of Currys here in the UK at the time.

Actually - sorry - I've misunderstood the official line. Rather than just being a PR stunt Rear Admiral Harry Harris actually assures us they were "an act of asymmetric warfare against us". Crikey. So not a PR stunt but more of an attack! This is scary. A war where the other side kills themselves to spite you really is a new kind combat.

I give up. No matter how hard I try to toe the official line I can't manage it. The PR person sees it in PR terms. The war bloke sees it in terms of war. Us humans see it in terms of humanity. It's a tragedy. Nothing more. These people who are trying to put a spin on it should be ashamed. We're not f#cking robots. Neither are they.


*Actually there is a bit of confusion about that. He was actually indulging in something called auto-erotic asphixiation. You choke yourself and just before you lose consciousness you get a bo#er or something. I think it's to do with the fact that on death male humans ejaculate. I'm out of my depth on this stuff. I've never really understood it. Whips and chains? Why would you want someone to beat the sh#t out of you? At all? Let alone as a precursor to sex.

do these things repel or attract? (sunday)

There's a magpie with a broken wing* in the car park behind my house. It has been there for a couple of days. I don't know what (if anything) I should do about it. It's been hopping around outside the doors of some of the other flats. It was tweeting for a few hours today as me and the lady watched a DVD. I first saw it on Friday night pecking at one of the doors of my neighbour. At the time me and my girlfriend thought it was trying to get into the house. It looked very comical hopping about and pecking at the door.

I've long thought birds didn't use their legs enough. I'd use them more if I were a bird. Flying is cool, sure, but why be able to do both and only really do one? After this first encounter I thought perhaps this was a bird who had started thinking like me.

Then we saw it again. This time it was hopping about cawing once in a while. It didn't look distressed but we didn't laugh this time. It's clearly not well. Why would it stay there so long?

All today it was crying. At one point another magpie came down and joined it. The two of them tweeted away for ages. They made a real commotion. It was as if they were talking. Only a few days ago a mate of mine told me that magpies mate for life. This is why you're supposed to salute the "one for sorrow". One on their own means that their partner has died. Hence the sorrow.

I couldn't help but imagine that this cacophony which was coming from the two birds on this bright sunny afternoon was some sort of conversation between the two. In magpie language. Perhaps they were trying to explain to each other what was happening. Perhaps they were trying to understand why life had been so cruel. Perhaps they were saying goodbye.

As I went outside I looked at the poor thing as it hopped around a bush. It's wing I could now see was bent slightly. It clearly can't fly.

If it's there tomorrow I suppose I should make it my business to sort it out. Call the RSPB or something?

I don't know.

Poor thing.


*At a guess. It might just be damaged. It might get better. I might not see it again because it gets better and flys away. Or dies. I'd never know.

Sincerity is the secret (saturday)

I'm all for late night cinemas. I didn't realise they had showings as late as they did. Me and the lady went to watch X-Men 3 today and it was fantastic. I thought X-Men 2 was a bit poor and X-Men 1 was okay but this un's a belter! Really enjoyed the whole thing. Still absorbing it a bit.

I often feel life is a bit dull and humdrum after watching a film like that. As I got out of the car and walked back to my house I kept looking around at the real world and thinking things like: "oh - I can't fly or jump about like they can, in fact I can't even heal at the speed of Wolverine. Ruined". This is not new. I felt like that after watching the good Star Wars films at the cinema and I suspect I will again when I watch the new Superman film which (going by the trailers) looks like it's going to be ace*.

Fortunately the following incident happened before we went in rather than afterwards when it would have been so humdrum and un-superhero I don't think I'd have been able to cope.

Me and the lady were busy trying to suss out how many weight watcher's points there were in the popcorn. For this we needed to weigh it. But it was in boxes. After faffing about for ages - and even getting the manager to go and check upstairs - matey revealed he had some scales on the counter which he could easily weigh them with.

It escapes me why he didn't just do that in the first place instead of letting us flap about. He gave some flimsy excuse but we were busy going off to see the film.

It mildly narked me.

Perhaps his excuse was valid.

See - humdrum. Not the sort of thing Wolverine worries about.


*Yes. Ace. That's the word I'm using. Not a fashionable word much these days but still one I hear people using without thinking. Not often you see it written down though is it? People still use it. They just don't write it down. Why? It looks a bit sh#t I'll give you that. But it sounds, well, 'ace'.

I'm not sure you're able to say (friday)

I've never worn an "En-Ger-Land" top in my life, for any reason whatsoever. Ever. Until today. Today was "Get Stripped Friday" and Hallam FM was raising money for Help A Hallam Child. As a consequence I drove round Chesterfield and the surrounding areas with two girls (Saphire and 'G') going to workplaces where they were all getting involved in "Get Stripped Friday". What this means is they were putting a quid towards the radio station's charity so they could wear their team's colours.

We first went to Spire's Infants School in Chesterfield*. I was amazed at how well behaved the kids were. I'd also totally forgotten the golden rule of playtime. As soon as teacher rings the bell - you stop whatever you're doing and stand as still as you can. Nice school. Good vibe.

From there we went to some council place or other**. The people there were nice but f#ck me the building was horrible. It was like a black hole. It seemed to suck every last pulse of joy my brain and body. I was amazed at how bright and breezy the people who worked there were! They were a total contract to the atmosphere of the building itself. If I was one of them I'd be thinking very dark thoughts. It's amazing how much a building can screw stuff up. It was just awful. But they were nice and really up for it.

Then we went to Vestubius?*** I think that was what it was called. I don't actually know. That was okay but by then I was really tired. Why? Because I'm fat and lazy and the sun makes me all puffy and huffy. What surprised me is that when I went for a bit of social grooming talk other than how f#cking wonderful England is and what a great thing it'll be if they win I drew an almost total blank.

"So... who do you think it going to get evicted?"

- blank stares -

"Y'know. Big Brother. It's on tonight! Who's going to get evicted?... anybody?"

My mind already knows I'm onto a loser here. I'm making conversation with about 40-50 people and they're all looking at me like I've just managed to squeeze out one of my eye balls. But I'm trying to save face. You can't just go, 'oh no one watching that eh?' and move on. Not when you're committed. I was relieved when from the confusion and blank stares one plucky lass saved me with;

"I think Nikki will be. I don't really like her."

The moment was lost. I'd backed a duff subject. I'd saved face a bit though. Actually, that's bo#locks. She'd saved my face. Anyway, I lamented the fact not many people are watching it this time round and moved swiftly on to talk of 'EnGerLand'. Woo - what do you think the score will be? Etc.

Overall though it was fun going out and meeting people and pretending to be a celebrity. Most of them pretended to know who I was and ask me why I wasn't doing the talkshow anymore. I love it when people ask me that.


*I think this is what it's called. I have an awful memory and was tired all throughout the day because I'm lazy and friday is my day off. Life is just one long struggle for me. It is. Really. Actually, no it's not. Sorry.

**I don't know. I honestly do not remember. I just drift through life. Names of places. No idea. None at all. I don't even know my own postcode.

***I don't know. I'm bluffing here. My memory works on a priority system which doesn't include the names of places. Or postcodes. Or indeed most things.

I've beaten you

Kylie's rudey video is here just in case I've buggered up the above video.

Last night I found this video of Kylie Minogue being cheeky in the name of a lingerie brand. It was a shock to see. Bit like finding out your girlfriend once did a porno*. I watched wide eyed and confused as 'cheeky Kylie' became 'really rather naughty Kylie'. Once the video had finished I was blushing like an ex-junkie who's just been caught cooking up in a public toilet.

I genuinely believe Kylie is some sort of Goddess. I'm just not sure what sort of Goddess**. She's a bit like a female Jesus in many ways. She had cancer - he got nailed to a cross. They both came back from the dead. And of course, fans of the antipodian popstrumpet all know that on the set of ozzy soap Neighbours in the early 80's Kylie managed to turn a bottle of water into wine. So that is actual proof.

A Picture of Kylie after she performed her miracle.

My girlfriend understands my love for Kylie. She's happy to buy me a Kylie DVD. I think this is sort of her way of saying that she wouldn't mind if I did get to be best friends with the tiny Princess of Pop. And that's the odd thing. I don't actually fancy Kylie in a sexual way. I see her more as a potential best friend for the future. We could be really good mates.

I wouldn't rule out a bit of nonsense. Maybe the odd cheeky kiss. Friends kiss don't they? Nothing wrong with that. I think my girlfriend buying me a Kylie DVD sort of proves she wouldn't mind any of this. I think she'd be okay with it.

I think she knows I'd have no chance.


Oh dear, the athlete's foot - whatever the f#ck it is - ain't looking good. It's started to look a little like the rocky surface of The Thing from The Fantastic Four. That's not good. Less itchy than usual as well! This is a pain in the t#at. If there's a positive side to athlete's foot (and there really f#cking is actually I think you'll find) it's that there's no greater satisfaction than itching it like a demon.

*This is a guess. I've never found my girlfriend once did a porno. I therefore have no real idea how this feels. Furthermore I do not want to know how this feels so if you do have any porno featuring my girlfriend I do not want to know about it. I'm not saying my girlfriend HAS done a porno, or even that I suspect she MAY have done. Let's change the subject here shall we?


She hasn't.

So f#ck off.

**My girlfriend is also a Goddess. She's Danu. She's not a pornstar. We're not still on that are we? This is me changing the subject once and for all. Right now! My girlfriend is a Goddess. Not a pornstar. She could be a pornstar. If she wanted to, I mean. I'm not suggesting I suspect her. I don't.

She isn't.

Just stop looking at the screen like that you little t#at.

So... I lost 3lbs at Weight Watchers... Bring it on Mo Fo!

I had one of those awful little micro-sleeps today. One minute I'm reading Judge Dredd The Megazine* with 'Big Brother Live' on the telly** when - whoosh I'm waking up on the couch***. What I really hate about these sort of sleeps is that they do you no good whatsoever, I didn't need a sleep and felt utterly f#cked afterwards. It took me about an hour or so to fully regain consciousness.

So, after spending most of my day reading an action comic book I then stumble into work and check out the reaction to my recent pet project; annotating obscure but genius comic strips****. I did this by logging onto the ultimate 2000AD geek's forum where I'd posted a link to my annotations. Now, the last time I checked I'd only got the following response:

Sector Chief Posts: 628

Praise is clearly due for a detailed and informed text, but it's just a bit deep for me. I'm more of the read and file school of comics and although nuggets of gold can be mined there is no way I could see my self poring over the notes with my prog and marker in hand. That said if it was a story I liked, I'd me more inclined to make the effort. In short, well done but it's not really my bag.

"F#cknuts", I thought, "I've out geeked the geeks". This guy's a 'Sector Chief Posts: 628'. What am I? I'm a 'Rookie Posts: 123'. I'm but a nothing compared to him yet there's no way he'd end up "poring over the notes with my prog and marker in hand".

"I should have kept these notes to myself, I'm a geeky idiot with no life and I've made a fool of everyone with this slavish devotion to sequential art." I thought to myself.

Then things started to change...

Slowly the tide started to turn and other geeks came out of the closet with suggestions as to how these (slightly obsessive) notes I'd written could be improved. Brilliant. I'm not the only one without a life! Then something I did not expect to happen happened. The writer of the story waded in and wrote this:

Hi there! Well I think this sort of thing can only be a good thing - but then I would say that, wouldn't I? It's just nice that someone's gone to so much trouble, I suppose... though I think some of the commentary is a bit obvious...


As usual with my stuff, it's heavily researched but a lot of the stuff is just made up. Which is, after all, my job, so...

Good stuff anyway, fella!


Blimey! He's the bloke what wrote it. One of my favourite comic strips. So perhaps being an uber-geek isn't such a bad thing after all. Anyway, I sent him an email thanking him for his praise and made a note to myself that the word "fella" is still one which confuses me.


*I sort of feel like I should buy Judge Dredd The Megazine just to show support for the idea of a UK comic book industry. It's not a great mag and it's not a patch on 2000AD. Not a patch. No wonder I fell asleep.
**"He realised he loved Big Brother" is how my bible 1984 finished. I like the fact that around the same time I stopped doing my phone-in show I also started to enjoy this TV show. It works on so many levels you'd think I was liking it just for the symbolic reference. I don't. I really do like it.
***Actually it was that couch that me and my flatmate went off to get from all of the way from down of the south.
****What I've done is written loads and loads of notes about the first episode of my favourite story from last year's run of 2000AD. It was called Leatherjack and it was, without doubt, a work of genius.

So... um... what do you think of my friends? They don't really talk to you much...

I haven't been swimming for ages. That is, until today. I really enjoyed it. I'd forgotten how much fun it was to just float around. I'd also apparently forgotten how to swim. It took me a few goes to remember how it all worked. I did 10 lengths and then sat in the bubbly thing with my mates and slagged off the bloke we'd all heard in the changing rooms on his phone. His conversation had run like this:

"Is tha goin' ahht ta neet?" he slurred.


"Yeh, um... are you coming out tonight?"

T#at. It's the most succinct example I can give of someone who clearly puts on their accent to appear cool or street or whatever. Accents have always annoyed me in that respect. I clearly remember friends of mine at school who talked normally suddenly adopting absurd silly local tones just to seem grown up and tough. It really annoyed me at the time and still does.

Nick Fact #1: If you talk like a c#ck-brain people will presume you are one.

Nick Fact #2: It is not natural to have an accent in this day and age. Everyone knows how to correctly pronounce words. The point of words is to allow communication. An accent which prohibits this is therefore rubbish.

Nick Fact #3: Accents are sh#t. That's been proved in tests by scientists, doctors and lawyers.

See, what annoys me about accents is people make out like they're an inseperable part of someone's identity. That is total bo#locks. My identity is rooted in more than my inability to communicate. So should yours be. Actually there's another example of someone making a spoon of themselves with their accent here. On Big Brother. If you can't be ars#d to watch it I'll just explain the exchange:

Pete: What's you're name?
Bonnie: Bonna
Pete: 'Bonner?'
Bonnie: - no Bonnie.

Ha. You stupid woman. You were affecting an accent and you made a tw#t of yourself. Even Davina* dishes out a smackdown right afterwards. Big Brother is ace.

Yes it is.

Richard to win**.


Tomorrow I will be going to see the doctor about my athlete's foot after the uber-strong creme which he gave me last week seems to have made it worse. Actually it's not athlete's foot, as I've pointed out before. It's actually some other f#cked up skin complaint. I've been told it's not contagious. Hence the swimming.
Anywho - while I've been scratching it I've been listening to the music on this website. It's by a group called No Xcuse I think. They sent me some stuff in the post. I usually ignore stuff like that but there we are. It's good. I think they're local. Better than the Arctic Monkeys. I don't understand what the fuss is about them. Hey ho.


*Davina, who is looking oddly attractive now pregnant. I need help!

**Hallam FM studio and I'm bored so I flick though some of the texts we've got. Hallam shares its text service with a few other stations. A listener to our sister station TFM sent in the following text three times; "Richard off Big Brother reckons he's a sexual terrorist ... does that make him a suicide bummer?". What amuses me about this is that he'd sent it in three times. Presumably he'd been dissapointed that TFM hadn't read out his hillaryarse joke. I can picture him saying to his mates - "they've not read it out, it's political correctness gone maad!".

You just be yourself.

I had a real 'what the f*ck' dream last night. Me and an eclectic bunch of my mates were off to see the Queen for no apparent reason. On the way it transpired that my girlfriend had slept with a, frankly obscure, historical political figure known as Benjamin Disraeli*. She'd caught VD off him. Oddly I wasn't too bothered by this news. I think I was more excited about meeting the Queen, who in this dream turned out to be a very down to earth slightly bossy northern woman who would have fitted quite nicely behind the bar of The Rover's Return**.

Ancient civilisations used to believe there was a prophetic power to dreams and that a decent sage or philosopher would easily be able to suss out my future from what is written above. This idea is of course bo#locks. Dreams are clearly the ramblings of your subconscious. Free from the constraints of reality you can bumble about into any situation you like. That's what's so great about them.

Having tampered with lucid dreaming in the past I feel more aware of what dreams are these days. However both me and my lucid dream weaving mate[external link to a mate of mine's blog] have failed to manage more than one lucid dream. It's really frustrating to crack it then not manage again.

I can sort of see where the infidelity thing came from as regards my girlfriend. She was on holiday and I wasn't with her so I'd joked about it a bit to a few mates. I can even sort of see where the meeting the Queen bit came from, I've been watching The Beatles's anthology recently. She sort of features in that. The one thing I can't suss out is why I'm dreaming about Benjamin Disraeli. Why would that be in my head? I was reading a bit of Bertrand Russell before I went to sleep. Could that be it? They sort of cross eras a bit. Madness.

Incidently I got bored with Bertrand Russell and decided to re-read 1984. That is an amazing book. It's my bible.

It doesn't contain any references to Benjamin Disraeli though. Odd that.


*What, I ask you, is the point of an education? I know who this person is, he was Prime Minister of this country! More than once! The 'general reader' though, does not give a baboon's tu#d. The 'general reader' isn't interested in Disraeli's forward thinking social reforms and widereaching influence on the political landscape of the 20th Century. I know you know who he is. But this blog has 100 readers a day now. Surely not all of them give a f#ck? If most of our fellow humans look at you blankly when you strike up a conversation about such things with them what's the point of knowing about it? This logic makes me feel that my mind is crammed with useless irrelevant information. What's the point of that? I digress.

**Ha! See. The general reader knows what this is but the genuis level academic has no idea. I'm neither. I'm the bit that lies inbetween. Jack of all trades and master of none.

"...actually do think I'm one of the best in the world at it..."

I've totally decimated my little pledge to not drink for a few months. It was a decision I made as I was writing this blog. I think I did well in not drinking for a bit though. I'm now undecided as to whether I should re-try my pledge. If I do I won't be so silly as to decide while writing this.

The thing is it's really difficult in social situations to go, "nah lets not bother with a drink, we should do something more exciting like go to the cinema". In fact it's very unusual to make such pronouncements. I'm glad I did have a drinky though. It makes social situations a little more spicy than usual. I'm still in the camp which says drinking does not make you honest but I had an amusing conversation with a friend where we agreed that it can make you less inclined to bother with the effort of lying. You sometimes simply cannot be a#sed to cover up the truth with a little bullsh#t. It's too much effort.

So I've pulled another classic Margerrison u-turn. These are frequent. I retain the right to change my mind about anything at any point. This is in my opinion a sign of strength and not weakness. There's nothing more fun than totally altering the way you think about something.

Well... that's what I currently think. All thoughts are subject to change. Even that one. Actually that doesn't make sense. Can I change my opinion on the subject of changing my opinions? Erm... yes, I could. But not today.


My athlete's foot is looking like the gnarled hide of an albino rhino. I'm using some ointment which I'll bet was made using oil at some point or other. Wayne the conspiracy theorist has sent me a link to this amusing little video which has a thing or two to say about our reliance on oil.

Ping ping ping says the busman (Saturday)

It's a lovely hot day and I'm sat on the tram in Sheffield. Behind me are two men one of whom is big and fat and has a gruff deep voice, the other is slimmer and has quite a posh sounding southern accent. I can't help but listen in to their conversation a little:

"If a bloke's pointing at me, step forward. Blam! He's touched you. Do him for assault" said the posh sounding man.

"Back in the old days you'd just have a scrap and one way or the other you'd sort it out. Next day you'd be having a beer with them at breakfast" added his larger mate.

So his posh sounding* mate chipped in with this perceptive gem: "All people is bothered about is themselves and what they want".

After that the two went quiet and considered this wise piece of thought. I had to get off for my stop but as I stood up I heard "He shouldn't have had a go at you though mate, he was out of order" coming from the face of the southerner.

I love listening in to little bits of conversations on public transport. It's exciting. Also on the tram was a little old bloke who kept taking out a copy of Terminator 2 Judgement Day which he had on video and smiling the broadest smile you've ever seen. He took it out and then put it back into his bag after gazing at it for a few seconds. He repeated this about five or six times. Then there was a mixed race couple with an unusually settled and very cute kid. They looked like they'd had a bit of an argument about something.

The ticket inspector was my favourite character though. I only had a quid, less than the required fare. He just let me off the difference. I'd offered to pay with my card but he wasn't interested. He was just happy to take a pound and overlook my tardy attitude to carrying cash. I'm a bit like the Queen.


*Clearly he wasn't posh at all.

So... not drinking, erm, until today when it all goes wrong. Ruined.

Ye Gods I need to get a life - awake 'til the middle of the night looking through my new obsession. That website is f#cking lethal! I'd say it was the future of television if I hadn't noticed that most of the stuff I'm watching on it has been made by TV companies for normal TV. I found the following videos:

Wife swap

If not here's the link.

American Wife Swap

If not here's the link.

A legend news piece from Sky News with some Big Brother contestants

If not here's the link.

So I just tried the phone and there we are... it's going to happen

I've been listening to clips of The Howard Stern Show online. I'm not a huge fan of his radio stuff but I've always thought he was a good presenter. What I've been listening to though is not the usual nonsense for which he is famous but the show they were doing when the terrorist attacks took place in New York on 11/9. It is in my opinion some of the best audio I've heard. It sums up the gradual nasty change which took place in the minds of people on that day.

I remember it clearly (as I'm sure do you). I was woken up by my then boss Anthony Gay who said simply "Nick, get here now it's urgent..." and the phone went dead. "Fair enuff" I thought and I set off in my little Nova to work. I was living on my own in a little cruddy bedsit at the time and it was only when I switched the radio on in the car that I realised something was seriously wrong.

Prior to the attacks I'd never heard of the twin towers. Regular readers will know I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to other countries, this includes America. I stumbled into reception and saw on one of the monitors a plane flying into the second tower. There were loads of people watching it in horror. My first thought was - "oh it's in America, we'll never hear the end of this".

Now my then boss had a picture of himself on top of the tiwn towers which I'd seen. He'd been there and bought the t-shirt so to speak. His face was as white as a sheet. He wanted me to go on air and do a sort of relaxed speech rolling news programme, which I did. Developments were coming in all the time while we were on air. It was pretty scary stuff.

As far as I'm aware there are no existing airchecks of the show I did with our newsreader Nat Sayee. I certainly didn't keep copies. I'm rubbish at things like that.

Listening to these airchecks of Howard Stern I'm reminded of what a strange event that was.

What grabs me about it is there are moments when they're sort of laughing about the thing. They're sort of being flippant about it. In the next few months I felt I should start taking life a lot more seriously. Both in my personal life and in my career. Nowadays I think the opposite is true. I actually think the correct response to things like that is to take life less seriously.

I don't know that I'm making sense.

I've booked a slot at a proper comedy club. I'm going to do a set infront of real paying customers. I need to stop listening to morbid things.

Here's the link to the aircheck site.

Here's a link to a short 10 minute clip of it which is good but in less detail.


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