The trouble with advertising today

Here in the UK, television is shit. Mostly, anyway. And most of what isn't shit, is imported(I'm thinking Neighbours, Diagnosis Murder, Heroes, The Big Bang Theory, the rest is sports. A lot of which is imported.)

Shit TV I can handle, I have the power to ignore, switch off or change the channel. All from the comfort of my fat arse sitting on my sofa. What I cannot accept is shitty advertising.

Now, I love watching adverts. Some are really clever(see: Guinness' "Tipping Point" and the Sony "Colours" series for Bravia TVs*), others are not. My trouble is, I read too deeply into them. FAR too deeply.

I've noticed recently an influx of Thunderbirds on my telly all of a sudden. Two separate companies selling two very different products are both utilising the puppets of my childhood in order to try to get me to use/buy their product.

Drench sells bottled water. Drench advertises bottled water with Brains dancing to some crap song in front a pink stage. Not just any dancing, body popping. A puppet, nay, MARIONETTE should never ever body pop or break dance.

Also, Specsavers. Your friendly neighbourhood optician(not including vision express, et al) are using the remaining 'Birds to peddle their wares.

Brains was the only one of the Tracys to wear glasses. Brains does not sell glasses. Brains dances for water companies.

Where is the logic, exactly?

This leads me to think that Brains has gone renegade and that he is about to go all solo on us. Releasing cd singles and download only albums of lowering standards in order to feed his escalating cocaine habit(he always was the flashy one, on the quiet) until he's eventually found by some low-level journo at a piss poor supermarket tabloid selling his body and song rights to feed his (now) varying drug habits. In the article, he is likened to a John Frusciante type of character.
Eventually, Brains will see sense and return to the fold, but only after selling his story as a serialisation to the Sunday Mail "My Fight Against The Daemons," in 17 weekly installments adding up to the price of his 2nd auto-biography "How I Learned To Stop Using, And Learned To Love Your Mom." Allegedly, this caused a rift with Duck Tracy, who believed it to be a snide remark after Brains' supposed affair with Duck's mother. Despite her being both 78 years old and a duck.

This is, however, irrelevant. We all know that marionettes are asexual by Law. Therefore, Duck Tracy's allegations have no basis.

Actually, maybe I dont read too much into them after all. Maybe I'm like an advertising Nostradamus.

*Memo to both Guinness and Sony, dont feel obliged for the free advertising, but if you feel like sending me a shitload of free stuff, go ahead.

I know, I'm sorry, I should have called,

but my life has been fairly hectic since last I posted some ramblings on this here webspace.

The outcome, all in all, is that I am upping sticks and moving out to South Africa for a rather splendid business oppurtunity. The kind of thing which rolls up once in a lifetime, if that.

I'm very tense about it, but I reckon at least a stab at it cant be a bad thing.

My dad and my sister say dont go. Every other bugger I know is telling me to go. I dont know if its encouragement, or that they all want rid of me. Either way, I'm off. Hopefully within a month or two.

The guys I'll be working for are taking a huge risk by taking me on, and to do so several thousand of your Earth miles from home is another punt to nothing. Its risky on all sides.

Only panicking wildly, but mildly.

I have developed something really rather painful

Its like this awkward thing. And it really hurts. It stops me from being as mobile as I'd like and to be honest, its my own fault.

I am, of course, referring to a broken foot.

3rd Metatarsal, broken.
2nd Metatarsal, dislocated.

Apparently near impossible to re-set into position again. So I'm striding(read: hobbling slowly) from place to place in massive amounts of pain but with 3 entire days off.

The doctor said I'm not allowed to work on it for a few days, so I'm sorted for some time off to get some things done. For a change.

OH NO!

Its just dawned on me that I may not be able to fully Muse out on the 16th because I've the standing ticket and the complete lack of standing ability.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Fuck it. I'll get doped up to the point of passing the pain barrier and wake up in the morning to pass out. Sorted.

Painkillers are quality, by the way. I'm well happy right now. I could just hug everyone. Its like taking ecstasy but with Nurofen instead.

Yes indeed.

Oh, and V needs to get herself across here for a gig. She needs some Pitchshifter. SHE NEEDS TO COME TO LONDONDONDONDONDONDON.

Is salad cooked or prepared if some aspects are hot?

I'm only asking because I've just made a salad with some chicken. And damn fine it was too.

Good fresh ingredients are the key, obviously, so I ensured that I didn't have any by being a lazy bastard and buying them yesterday and then buggering off to the pub.

So I made it this afternoon for 2 people who have almost 0 vegetation in their diet, and they've both eaten it. This is a miracle on a par with the blind man seeing, the lame man walk and getting a duck to say "I am a goat"

Fear my powers.

I was initially worried that the chicken would be dry because of the way I made it, but it was fine. A shade tougher than I'd have preferred on the outer edges but it was still very very edible. In for about 3 minutes too long, probably.

I want to learn to cook duck and other game birds, just for the ability to say things like "This duck has not been seared as I'd have done it" or something and I want to cook posh food with oranges in it and stuff.

This is unlikely.

Oh, and I should be moving out of my current abode within the foreseeable. Yay for me.

Salad could have done with a few more radishes though.

This holiday is going to be well buff

As I may or may not have mentioned(I forget if I have or not) I'm off to Hastings for a few days at the end of this month.

Today, I bought my crappy luggage for it. And now I am well and truly geared for it. Lazy days by the sea, active nights at the pub or maybe the camp site. Depends entirely on how we all feel.

Harry, Vicki and Katie off doing family crap, and Charlotte, Poboi and myself entertaining ourselves in other manners. Though Pod reckons he's going to spend 5 days sitting in front of the TV. In his pants.

Ah well, me and Charlotte will have to do other things away from Pod and his overbearing scents.

Should be a laugh. Beach cricket sets will be bought. Yes indeed.


On the 16th of June, I shall be attending a fine event at the new Wembley Stadium in Middlesex. Home of the England national football team, and the first of two dates by one of the most exciting bands around in my time so far. Muse. I shall be going to the Saturday date with Daniela Y Rodriguez, The Streets and Dirty Pretty Things supporting. I'd have preferred the Sunday date, for Biffy Clyro are supporting Muse, but then again, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Muse tickets are like gold dust at times, so when I was offered a standing ticket to what may turn out to be THE event of the summer(no football is on, has to be music) I jumped at the chance.

Quality.

I've now ran out of bloggage for now. I'll think of something later.

Staunch denial

In the last couple of days, I've been complimented on a fair few things.

Primarily, my work and how well I've picked it up and the skill and ease I'm apparently showing.

Fuck yes, means a pay rise that shit.

Then I was complimented by some friends from the Barbarian Lands to the North of Berwick on how well I appear to be doing(as well as one honourable mention from my friend Chelle who seems to think I'm pretty)

My good friend Podboi complimented me on my photography skillz. Now, its a hobby and nothing beyond, but god knows I'd love it to be a profession. I like taking pictures of scenery and still life's, but sometimes I look down from the balcony(its not as posh as it sounds, its a top floor flat) and I can capture the most amazing moments of human interaction on sunny days. One or two in the rain and at dusk and night times look pretty cool too. "London life as viewed from the 11th floor &trade". I might make that a working project.

DIGRESSION!

I must stop digressing from my points in this here blog, the first part of this sentence nicely linking me from one part to the last.

I was complimented on my writing by a fellow Blogger(I was informed it was "very good" if that's not compliment enough for you, you may no longer read my drivel. Away with thee!)

Now, my complimenter, and I'd like to say personal friend(she's watched me grow up, albeit from afar and intermittently), is a professional writer. Blog, newspaper articles and the like are her turf. As far as I know, you cannot move in the US for reading some of her work(or maybe its just the New Jersey internets) because it is plagiarised on a seemingly daily basis.

This is theft, and something not to be taken lightly, especially by someone with as much intelligence, beauty and a way with words as Deb.

And, this tends to mean that anything Deb says on T'internet™ is Gospel, and is due to be believed and obeyed to the letter.

I pwn at Bloggerage.

I pwn all.

Except Deb.

Its payday tomorrow!

I like Fridays best, because I get paid £some for doing some work. This in turn means I can either ignore the whole shonky fiasco that involves doing work properly. Yayness, for it means it is pub day too.

I've just been discussing interior decorating with regards to shelving. Which, despite the banality of the subject, somehow descended into quite a heated discussion. Impressive, as ever.

And now I'm listening to Boston's More Than A Feeling. I've spent much of the evening listening to Jimi Hendrix and Biffy Clyro. But thats all about to change, because House is on Channel 5.

I like House. Hugh Laurie is an amazing actor. Apparently, many of the American viewers were convinced he was from the States instead of jolly old Blighty like many thousands of wonderful folk throughout history.

The first place I encountered the amazing talents of Mr. Laurie was in a British television show called Blackadder. He had mainly bit parts in most of the seasons, but he had a larger role in a later season as Prince George(I think it was Blackadder III but I cant be certain.)

He also has a cult following from other shows he did with another stalwart of British acting, Stephen Fry, in the Fry And Laurie Show. Basically a sketch show, it also included musical comedy snippets from Laurie, being as he is an accomplished musician on both piano and guitar.

A truly amazing actor. He has been known to occasionally appear as a panelist on comedy quiz shows too.

I'm sitting here watching House, sorting out my friends shopping bill and typing this up. In the front room, there are Harry, Vicki and Katie over by the TV, me at the computer and Podboi sitting on the other side of the table from me.

This may be an OK night. We might even break out a game or 7 of Halo on XBox Live.

Anyone up for it?