Esther from Syria: Part I...

I am getting emails from a young lady in Syria who is 'enthusiastic to establish long-time romance'. She is also keen to know whether I am 'enthusiastic to establish similar'.

It is Saturday morning and I am sitting in my office at home when another email arrives.
'Esther's emailed me again!' I yell to the Missus.
'Again? She's keen,' she replies. 
'I admire her work ethic. She also seems to really like me...' 
'Yes. But she hasn't seen a photo of you yet, has she?'

I think that was an insult. I consider sending Esther a photo...

Modern Phrases: Part II...

'If it looks like a feckless slut, acts like a feckless slut and dresses like a feckless slut, then it's probably a feckless slut. Or a reality TV star...'

Cyndi Lauper...

I've been on a bit of a nostalgia trip through 1980s music for the last few years and I've rediscovered some wonderful stuff. 

My most recent re-find, however, is Cyndi Lauper. She's sometimes wrongly just seen as a kooky American artiste, but I've been delving into her back catalogue and there's some truly wonderful stuff there. 

True Colours, Time After Time and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, plus her cover versions of I Drove All Night and I'm Gonna Be Strong, are songs that still absolutely stand up. And if there's a more joyful and celebratory love song than That's What I Think then I've yet to hear it. 

Lauper's also still going strong and, most recently, won a Tony award for her work on the musical version of the Brit flick, Kinky Boots, and also released a 30th anniversary version of her debut album, She's So Unusual. 

In summary, Lauper kicks all kinds of arse. And she's not kicking that arse yet!

Richard Herring's Leicester Square Theatre Podcast...

Myself and the Missus recently went to see another recording of Richard Herring's Leicester Square Theatre Podcast (RHLSTP), with Peep Show actor Robert Webb and film-maker Louis Theroux guesting. 

RHLSTP has been going since 2012 is now in its fourth or fifth series. We were relative late-comers to this podcast series, but it's consistently excellent stuff. 

The basic premise is that Herring interviews the great and the good of the comedy world, plus a few others, and, among the funny stuff, there's often some quite revealing moments and cracking anecdotes. Herring's naughty schoolboy persona and sometimes potty mouth is funny and his not-like-Michael-Parkinson-at-all interview technique is a thing of wonder. Herring-Nixon would have been much better than Frost-Nixon.

It's also a self-funded enterprise with income from the theatre audience and the online campaign encouraging people to donate barely covering the costs of the whole shindig. 

My advice: RHLSTP is a free download so download and enjoy. But also donate some cash so it can continue. I did, the Missus did and the Boy did, too. So, if you download an episode and enjoy it, and end up downloading the entire back catalogue, then you probably should pay some cash, too. 

It's well worth the paltry money its makers ask for in donations. Fact.

The Modern World Disgusts Me: Part VI...

I am a magazine journalist and, as such, I have to browse lots of magazines. It's a professional interest thing.

Today, I read Hello. This should be renamed Look How Fucking RIch I Am! Go on! Fucking Look! Look Fucking Long And Look Fucking Hard And Be Jealous Of Us, Our Homes And Our Wealthy Lifestyles You Fucking Unwashed Scum.

It's just an idea. They may not go for it...

A Light Shining in Buckinghamshire...

I remember reading the 1976 Caryl Churchill play, A Light Shining in Buckinghamshire, which is set in the period just before and just after the English Civil War, while I was at college. I thought it was a brilliant piece of theatre that explored so many diverse ideas about politics, sovereignty, state, ownership, government, religion, freedom and privilege. 

I also loved the construction of the narrative and the quality of the writing.

Some 27 years on, I've finally seen my first production of the play, at the National Theatre, and it was a less memorable experience than that first read. The staging is inventive and very impressive, with a lord's banqueting table becoming a debating chamber, a soaked field complete with earth and various other locations. 

But the National have used this production and its quite demanding script to experiment with a community company, which essentially means amateur actors working alongside a professional cast. 

This works in one way because it allows for the production to have a much bigger cast than the budget probably allows. But the difference in standard between the professional cast and many of the amateurs is quite big, and that damages the production, particularly in the scenes where there are lengthy debates about political ideas and religious theories, which need incredibly skilled performers to breath life and vitality into them.

The idea of the community company is a noble one. As somebody who worked on large-scale community plays and grass-roots community arts projects in the 1990s, though, it genuinely sickened me to see lots of major theatres suddenly claiming ownership of the term 'community' if it meant they could soak up some new pot of funding in that period… and often take it away from long-established grass-roots projects who needed the funding and weren't just doing 'community' work to tick some box on a funding aplication.

It would worry me if the National was going down this route, even though politically I support the idea of a community company and the development of any real community project.

The play could have been better. The jury's out on the rest of it at the moment. I hope it succeeds, though. It's a brave idea. We shall see...

Modern Phrases: Part I...

An occasional series of useful thoughts: Today, something Oscar Wilde may have said.

'All of us are in the gutter, but only a few of us actively choose to shit in wheelie bins as well.'

Other Woman News...

The Other Woman is a fellow journalist and she recently managed to secure the Hapkido school, where we both train, a large piece in Metro. 

This involved a lovely reporter coming along and taking part in a class. Afterwards, the senior belts were asked to stay behind so we could demonstrate some throws and falls for the photographer. For one photo, I was asked to be the attacker while my opponent did a throw to escape a rear choke, which ended with me on the floor grimacing as he applied a wrist lock and arm bar combination.

The feature was duly printed and there were no photos of me, so I jokingly mentioned that I should be the eye candy factor to draw new students in. 

The Other Woman then took great delight in telling me that the photo of me grimacing (above) was, in the words of the features editor at the news conference, 'Not suitable or particularly attractive for a section of the paper primarily aimed at women'. 

So there you have it. I am officially not pretty enough for London women. Who read. 

The media is a cruel mistress. And the Other Woman is patently not much better.

Picture credit: Dan Lynch

Nick Helm's Heavy Entertainment...

'Do you like Nick Helm? Do you like Nick Helm? Do you like Nick Helm? Do you like Nick Helm? Do you like Nick Helm?'

Yes. I do like him. I like him quite a lot actually. His kitsch pop star meets socially awkward nerd meets bloke having a breakdown persona makes me laugh lots. He was fab in Uncle and his mix of stand-up comedy and brash but funny songs is bloody excellent.

He gets to showcase the latter routines in his new BBC3 show, Nick Helm's Heavy Entertainment. This is currently three episodes old and it's much more hit than miss.

It's part stand-up, part bizarre musical pastiche and part audience interaction. It features some cracking one-liners, too. Example: 'I went out on a really bad date recently… it was September the 11th!'

It's very good. Watch and enjoy!

Five-word Reviews: Mad Max: Fury Road...

Brilliantly fast, utterly fucking furious. 

High-octane blockbuster that never stops! 

Grand Designs...

The Missus has a long-term crush on Christian Slater. He's been on her 'allowed list' for quite some time and we were discussing 'allowed lists' en route to seeing a movie. 
'I wouldn't mind you getting to grips with the Slater. It would have my approval. As long as it was only a one-off,' I muse. 
'I don't want any other man,' counters the Missus. 

I assume this must be some type of cunning woman trap so I say nothing. The Missus, however, continues: 
'After all, I've put nearly two decades of work into you. I wouldn't just abandon a project I've put that much time into…'
'So, as far as you're concerned, I'm a bit like a marriage version of Grand Designs?' 
'You're not really that "Grand". Probably more like "Mediocre Designs".'

I'm going to fuck Christian Slater instead. And he's going to enjoy it...

Five-word Reviews: Game of Thrones...

Draft 1: Dirty, violent, shag-filled, sweary fantasy.

Draft 2: In love with dragon lady. 
Draft 3: Tolkien gets sexy and bloody.
Draft 4: Like the little fella, too.
Draft 5: Fantasy soap goes soft porn.

The Modern World Disgusts Me: Part V...

I am thinking about trying my hand at stand-up comedy next year. 

My over-riding fear, though, is that my routine may feature a nearly 50-year-old man having a breakdown on stage as he rails against a ludicrous and fatuous world that he simply doesn't understand any more.

I did consult my psychiatrist about embarking down this road and he said: 
'Please take the knife away from my throat. Can you then untie me? You're scaring me and you're scaring my family.' 

He'll laugh about it. Eventually...

Five-word Reviews: Avengers: Age of Ultron

Version 1: Entertaining, politically astute superhero action-fest.

Version 2: Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow rocks! 

Version 3: Geek-tastic sequel with sufficient nerd-bait.

The Modern World Disgusts Me: Part IV...

I was accused on 'Not caring about the little people' the other day...
'You've changed since you became a big shot,' sneered a colleague.

I pondered her comments then offered the following response.
'I may have changed, but that's because I'm now trying to ensure the survival of the project I'm working on, so fuck-headed twats like you, who do nothing but whine like arse-slapped children, will continue to have a job and not have to sell their, frankly, too-much-junk-in-the-trunk arses for past-their-sell-by-date Findus crispy pancakes, because they no longer have an income to put food on the table. Because, to be frank, no other cunt will employ you. Ever. Even for menial work like giving suckjobs to tramps to give the proper whores a rest. 
'And, for your further information, I don't dislike you or your kith and kin because I consider you to be little people. I don't really consider you at all. Fact. And if I didn't like you, it wouldn't be because I'm a snob. It would be because I'm regional facist and I don't like people like you, who come from wherever you come from. Wherever that fucking shithole is? What's that? Manchester? Well I don't like Manchesterians. The place probably doesn't even fucking well exist and, if it does, it's just probably a small village where the inhabitants all fuck each other and have kids with 13 fingers. So cunt the fuck off.'

The office went a bit quiet after that. I may also not have said any of those things. Just thought them. Or imagined them as part of a future comedy routine...

Wife of the Year in Our House Award...

It was my birthday a few days ago and Mrs Brooks again put herself in pole position for The Wife of the Year in Our House Award with her present: an antique print from 1870 by Japanese artist Kunitoshi Utagawa.

I am beyond stunned. She is beyond brilliant.

The Modern World Disgusts Me: Part III...

The Fast and the Furious film franchise has released a seventh instalment. Yes. Seven. That's correct. Four more films than the Godfather trilogy and, currently, one more than the Star Wars franchise. How the fuck did that happen? Are there really that many Top Gear fans who smoke crack and imagine they're Vin Diesel. Or one of the other ones?

Thank god they didn't get hold of Police Academy and extend that movie past the first one.

Little Changes...

My next martial arts grading at hapkido involves using a short wooden stick called a tahn bong. 

Using it is quite difficult and, after learning an eight-strike pattern, there's a seven-block pattern, plus freestyle striking and blocking, plus a whole host of other techniques to counter punches and kicks, and throw people, and choke them. It's quite difficult.

I struggled with the initial striking pattern for months, but I decided the easiest way to improve at this was to break it down and routine the training into bite-sized chunks. 

So every day I'm at work, I take a ten-minute break in the afternoon and do at least 150 strikes or blocks. Since I started this, I figure I've now done 12 weeks by five days by 150 strikes/blocks per day, which means about 9,000 strikes/blocks in total. 

And it's helping matters, too, so I'm going to adopt this tactic of doing a little thing every day in other areas. I've finished lots of writing work over the past few years by utilising my commuting time and that produced dividends. I may adopt a wrestling drill and see how that goes, too. 

Big improvement can be built in little spaces.

Five-word Reviews: Wild Tales

Bizarre, brilliant, twisted revenge stories.

Moments...

It is Friday morning. I am laid in bed with the Missus. 

We are curled up. It is quiet, apart from the purring of the cat on the end of the bed. Regardless of anything else that happens today, or in days to come, this moment won't be lost. It will be logged in the memory banks with all the other moments I cherish. This is called being present.

About 20 minutes later, I am in the bath. The Missus enters and looks around, before commenting:
'The bath's too full and there's water all over the floor. What have you been doing?'
'I was relaxing...'
'Well can you do it less messily?' 
'No. I can't. Fuck off.'

Of course, I didn't say that last thing. My head and thoughts were still enjoying the bed bit...