Later, baby

It is the curse of the talent contest soundbite.

You often hear that contestants are on their " last chance". They might use this phrase whether there are 20 years old or 90.

They tell you that they need to "make it or break it".

But after many years of obfuscating for one reason or another, this is now the time "for them".

Of course it isn't.

These are lies we tell ourselves, and paraded to an Adele instrumental for our snack soul food.

The truth is closer to..

You need to make it or hey… make it later.

Make it or make it differently.

Make it or make something else

Make it or make something else later

I could make a whole library of binary.

Or I might do it later.

The ineffectuals

What would we do without the intellectuals?
You too can study at the University of Aberdeen for £9000 per year

The Untertainers

Do you remember when we had really excellent comedic entertainers?

When a stand-up comic had learned, the hard way, to deliver a series of (largely stolen) jokes rather than relate some lame story from their life?

When a sitcom had an Eric Chapple behind it and Yorkshire television owned national comedy?

When a Wise had a Morecambe, both forged in the fires of the business.

Do you remember when a comic drama had an Ian La Frenais?

When the cast of a Yes, Minister could just as effortlessly have performed Brecht.

And now we are faced with endless casts of stupid people from Essex in so-called augmented reality who can barely do breakfast without dribbling.

Do you remember when quiz shows had a Bob Monkhouse or a Bruce Forsyth?

And now we have a Ben Shepherd and a Nick Knowles.

I'm not recommending Fanny Craddock. But I'd still take her over Greg Wallace any day.

Do you remember when dating was about three daft questions and a lorra laughs rather than standing naked  in front of your selector?

Do you remember when we had En-tertainment.

Not UN-tertainment

Not now

There was a time when being on the spectrum meant you were back from school and trying to get to Level 3 on Manic Miner. 

Deluding

I think people really admire me for loosening up and bravely stepping
into whatever the future holds.

It was only the other day that I noticed, out of the corner of my ear,
a familiar couple chatting and pointing me out with whatever
discretion they could contain.
I could just make out what they were saying.
"He's really let himself go", one of them uttered, sotto voce.

And so can you!

Stitch in Time

As I was shaking hands with a girl today I noted how soft her hands were.

For the uninitiated that's the sort of thing you do with girls.. comment on a pretty frock, ask her what her Dad does for a living, and follow-up with a few questions about knitting.

If her reply should give you the idea that she doesn't know what a frock is (never mind own one), that she doesn't know who her father is, and given the choice between pearling one and stitching one she'd probably punch you and go to the pub... then you can wish her and her many tattoos a pleasant evening, tug your forelock, tip your cap and put her on a carriage home, slapping the horses rear end with whatever velocity your cane can manage. You already have all the information you need. 

"You have lovely soft hands", I said. "That's because you've never done a day's honest work in your life", I embellished.

She was a lawyer so I don't think there was any factual discrepancy but I have to tell you that she took some offence to this.

Being a polite sort of a chap, I immediately took it upon myself to backtrack and said that I meant to say that her hands were actually quite rough.

"I've never been so insulted in all my life" she replied again, almost as though I were making this up.

This was to be the last Metafit class on a Monday as it is being replaced by the more lucrative Boxercize which I still have to consider whether to join, attacking people in the direction of the head not being my usual "thing".
But, as a streetwise sort of fellow I'm quite handy with a bit of punchy-punchy but then again, these classes are mainly female. So I explained to the same girl that when I hit a woman, it's rarely in public and never in the face.

But did she find it reassuring?

Well, I think you know what she's like by now.

Being a polite sort of a chap, I immediately took it upon myself to backtrack and said that I meant to say, "If". I emphasised again "IF..IF..I hit a woman, it's rarely in public and never in the face.

Fortunately that put her mind at rest and we are going out to the pictures on Tuesday.

It really is a minefield, isn't it?

The Full I Am

Do you know why you admire the entertainers you do?

If you're a woman who watches TV on a Sunday night then it's easy. 

You admire pretty men shot in nice lighting, who take their shirts off. 

Well done girls. 

I know it's all about emancipation nowadays but the ratings don't lie and I forgive you need for pornography. Men are shits.

I'm really speaking to the more discerning sort.

Not men. 

Because it you're a "man" who fulfils his destiny and watches Sky sports, then you admire morons who kick a ball about. I'm not saying the occasional footballer didn't get an O level, but generally...

The first of these two groups have never done it for me. If Poldark manages to keep his shirt on for the full 60 then I'm good with that.

There was a time when Newcastle United made me party to the second but not anymore. There's no inspirational Bobby Robson, no Kevin Keegan.

There's a fat man who exploits and abuses 17,000 employees, and for some reason isn't in jail. He owns the footballers who entertain you. 

Ask me to admire him. 

Go on. 

I dare you.

And I think I have just realised why they don't impress me much. 

There is no risk.

Barring the occasional penalty taker, they put nothing on the line.

It leaves the footballers with plenty of time to concentrate on their vanity, Vanity, and Hello magazine photo shoots. (Forgive me the Oxford comma...I've never used one before... and the joke seemed to require it).

Their designer T-shirts should really read "I had one job".

They're not to be admired, any more than the politician who has never done a day's serious work in their life in any sort of business. Ever. 

But then of course worshipping politicians is not something we suffer from.

Is it, Keith Vaz?

The people I admire are the artists. The risk-takers. 

They actually risk too much. 

The ones who strip themselves to the bone. Who expose themselves to the world. They take a hit on their soul, to their mental health, and on their sense of identity.

They don't always get it right.

Many shouldn't try.

Yes, there is vanity, and yes some things should not make it to the stage. 

Some things should be left in a diary. Not all forms of expression are interchangeable.

But in its purest form, there's more truth in theatrical entertainment than anywhere else.

Watch our entertainers.

Naked and alert.

Taking little (generally), and yielding all (frequently).

Going against the flow but surrendering to a ripple.

Support our entertainment in all its forms. 

It is not just the trapeze artist who puts it all on the line... for you.

And if you haven't seen it, catch the remake of Are You Being Served? on iPlayer.

It's a hoot.

Quotable Me 22

Go for Life. 

Before Life comes for you.

None

Maybe we move in different circles.

But I haven't seen a nun for ages

Hard times

It turns out that strippers don't take credit notes.
Even ones that promise to pay the barer on demand.