New Year, New Ideas...

It's been an OK year on the writing front with a shortlisted entry in a sitcom writing competition, far-off rumblings and talk of TV work, and a new stage play at about third draft.

In reality I haven't written enough, though, and 2012 at least already promises new ideas with my wrestling play under way, a new idea for a sitcom and my first attempt to write a comic all in the offing.

There may well be the usual amount of rejection in store but there may also be some new hope. The new theatre company I'm production managing a show for holds much promise and they've also reminded me of one very important thing: I never used to rely on other people to stage work as I used to do that myself and, after exercising those muscles again late in the year, I still can.

It was a moment of epiphany and I'm already putting together a new project with this in mind. My new theatre friends may have reawakened a monster. But it will nice to see him back...

Fat: Part IV...

It is the Friday before Xmas and me and the Missus are having a lazy morning in bed when the phone goes.

I answer and it's Little Brother, although as he was topping the 18 stone mark at one point this year the word 'Little' doesn't really apply these days. So we are chatting about our respective diets and he's telling me how him and two friends have a £1000 bet to see who can lose the most weight and I tell him how me and the Missus are doing.
'I've lost about a stone and a half so far,' says Little Brother.
'I've done more than a stone and so has the Missus,' I reply.
'My target weight is 15 stone,' says Little Brother.
'Yeah. The Missus is nearly there at the moment,' I reply.

I feel a sharp dig in the ribs and am all too familiar with the icy stare that will greet me when I turn around. It was a joke but, apparently, girls don't have a sense of humour about weight issues.

Then I realise me and Little Brother are chatting about exercise and diets and losing weight like something from Loose Women. We'll be talking interior design next. God help us...

Play Reading...

I have my first play reading in more than 10 years. There's a proper story, different characters and even jokes. Some of them are quite rude and a few of them are even funny.

It's on at Guildford's Electric Theatre on 28 February 2012, starting at 7.45pm. Everybody is welcome. If I like you I'll buy you beer.

Recycled Jokes No.2...

I told you Kim Jong was Il(l)...

Fat: Part III...

I am ill and it is shit. I have spent the last five days sweating in bed. And not in a good way. I was alone.

On the plus side my eating pattern has not been regular if at all so I may have crept ahead in the diet challenge.

This is war. I will win at fucking any cost.

Pedantic...

The Missus has many fine qualities but patience and empathy are not two things she's blessed with. Fortunately, she more than makes up for the absence of these things with a pedantic streak that is a mile wide and twice as long.

This streak, however, has come back to bite her on the arse (not literally) in recent years because the Boy has also inherited it and when the two of them discuss anything she'll invariably say something slightly inaccurate and he'll jump on it like a hungry wolfpack devouring an injured deer.

Last weekend we visited my Guide Son and his parents and stayed over or the weekend. My Guide Son is essentially my God Son but his parents are card-carrying atheists so using the name of a deity they don't believe in seems redundant, hence Guide Son.

He's an utterly wonderful four-year-old and he now has a little sister, and with me and the Missus staying over at his parent's flat there was a bit of bed juggling so we ended up in their bedroom.

At 4.30am the Guide son climbs into bed with us and once he realised it was us rather than his parents he decided to stick around and curl up and go to sleep. This involved telling us about his nightmare and regaling us with tales from school then giving us a rendition of the Muppet Show theme tune. This went:
'It's time to play the music,
It's time to light the lights,
It's time to get things started,
On the Puppet Show tonight...'

At this point the pedant in the Missus woke up and corrected a four-year-old at 5am in the morning.
'It's "the Muppet Show tonight..."' she advised.

We're exhausted, it's 5am and we need sleep and she still can't turn the pedantry tap off.

A few days later, however, I was telling the Guide Son's father, who is also Young Brother of the Missus, this story and he laughed.
'I used to make the exact same mistake when singing the song,' he said. 'And she used to correct me, too.'
'At 5am?' I asked.
'Probably...'

I have not the words...

Charity Begins...

The Missus has cooked tea and we are preparing to sit down and watch Have I Got New For You.

I come into the living room after tidying up.
'Where's Have I Got News For You?'
'Not on.'
'Why not?'
'It's fucking Children In cunting Need.'

I share her ire.

Excited!

I have a rehearsed reading of my new play and it's my first public readthrough in more than 10 years.

The play is called Melt and the readthrough is at the Electric Theatre in Guildford on 28 February 2012 so I am now gutting and rewriting the play ready for its public debut.

And I've also started work on a new play about a catch wrestler and I'm also project managing a production in June...

It's all quite exciting.

Back In The Old Routine...

In a previous life I was a youth theatre worker and director, a community theatre writer and director, and a Fringe theatre writer and director.

And I did quite a lot of work with various companies and various groups. Some of it was very good and some of it was not so good, but it was a major part of my life for 15 years until an acrimonious split from one company made me ask why I was doing this... and I decided the effort wasn't worth the hassle any more.

Some six years after this split I started writing again and as from last week I'm back involved with a new theatre project in my new home town of Guildford. I met the company director a few months ago and we talked... and last week we had our first official meeting and it wasn't as scary as I thought it was going to be. In fact if anything I found it difficult to keep my mouth shut as old reflexes kicked in and ideas about turning words on a page into a moving, breathing thing on an empty stage kicked in.

The play we're working on is a new piece called Consider This and, if I had to nutshell it, it's a theatrical exploration of the power of forgiveness inspired by stories taken from The Forgiveness Project, a company which collects stories about victims of violence and their loved ones and suggests a better way to deal with hate and ideas of revenge.

That may sound a bit serious and dry and arty but the work of The Forgiveness Project is stunning in its scope and the piece our merry band of drama, music folk and film folk are working on will be lively and fun as well as thought-provoking.

I'll be haranguing friends into coming to see this play when it's on in June 2012. You have been warned...

Fat: Part II...

I have lost 12lbs in four weeks and I am comfortably back under 14 stone, which is about my fighting weight. If I fought.

This should be a reason to celebrate but currently it's torture as the office I share with several colleagues is never short of cakes or biscuits or sweets. And today I have a major craving for chocolate.

In fact I have such a craving for chocolate that I could quite easily walk down the road to M&S, pull out my credit card, buy an entire shelf of the stuff, return to the office and systematically trough my way through it. Then repeat until sick.

This is what it must be like to be a girl: craving nice things but under constant pressure to not eat in case it ruins all your previous efforts to be healthy and stay slim. I will never mock the Other Woman and her constant need for confectionery again. I'll just pick on her because she’s short and sassy instead.

In conclusion, diets are rubbish and I am probably having mood swings. You have been warned.

And I may want to cry for no apparent reason, too.

How Media Works...

My journalistic career as it is sometimes laughingly called has had many low points but I'm pleased to say that at least it will never plumb the barrel-scrapingly awful depths of an email I got earlier today.

Apart from the fact that what it suggests is an awful idea, it should also give non-media folk an idea of how the desperate quest for celebrity works and what depths some folk will sink to in order to keep their talent-free zone faces in the limelight.

The email reads as follows:

'Never underestimate the power of sisterhood' says Lauren and Nicola Goodger from hit ITV reality TV series - The Only Way is Essex.

TOWIE's most famous sisters, Lauren and Nicola Goodger are to recreate the looks of some of the worlds most iconic sisters in an exclusive media shoot.

Successful sisters go back generations; think Joan and Jackie Collins in the 80s, Kylie and Dani Minogue in the 90s and what would the noughties be without Kate and Pippa Middleton?

Regardless of the decade, the support and solidarity of sisterhood is what has helped make these women successful, which is why ‘The Only Way Is Essex’s’ sisters Lauren and Nicola Goodger are looking to recreate the looks of some the worlds most iconic sisters in an exclusive photo shoot.

'Team Goodger' are rapidly proving a force to be reckoned with here in the UK and this iconic photo shoot is set to put these two sisters on the map as the sisters who will be 'doing it for themselves' in next decade.

We're looking for one media outlet who would like to commission this exclusive photo shoot and interview.

I fear for humanity. It's fin de siecle time and these are the vinegar strokes.

Recycled Jokes No.1...

A former Libyan dictator was assassinated yesterday. He refused to take the advice of one of his guards, who shouted 'Gaddafi. Duck.'

Rejection!

I sent a radio comedy script out to an independent production company a while ago.

Sending it out was a bit of long shot but the script was smart and funny and I thought it had a fighting chance.

I got the rejection letter yesterday. It was quite complimentary about the script and its comedy but closed with the line: 'we don't feel it’s sophisticated enough for Radio 4.'

I sort of agreed and I also thought tht line would make a great t-shirt as it sums me up: 'not sophisticated enough for Radio 4'.

Then I thought I could add: 'with it's small audience of arty, tree-hugging, middle-class know-it-alls'.

Then I realised that is probably me as well.

In conclusion I actually can't write for myself...

Fat: Part I...

Myself and the Missus are on diets. I have put on a stone in the space of a year and now weigh 14 stone 6 lbs. I wouldn't mind but it's not like I'm not exercising. It's a sad reality... but I'm now podgy for the first time in my life.

I obviously can't comment on how much weight the Missus has put on or what her exercise regime has consisted of (as that would be a spare room offence) but her weight gain is apparently my fault. For making her too happy.
'I was at my thinnest before we met and I was unhappy,' she laments. 'It's your fault. I'm too contented to care now...'

My suggestion of having an affair so she can find out and be unhappy again apparently was not helpful.

So we're now both dieting. I've never dieted before but apparently it involves eating more fruit and vegetables and less cake and chocolate and drinking less booze. It sounds a bit shit to be quite frank but I'm going to give it a go.

Otherwise I'll be a rotund, middle-aged fatty and nobody wants that look. Apart from Eric Pickles...

Happy Anniversary: Part II...

Apparently a bottle opener attached to a piece of olive wood shaped like a knob is not considered an appropriate 10th wedding anniversary gift.

Happy Anniversary: Part I...

Me and the Missus are on holiday in Crete.

Today we celebrated 10 years of marriage by having a lazy day walking along the beach and getting upgraded to a very flash new hotel room courtesy of my wife's desire for the better things in life and a shrewd ability to negotiate.

Walking along the beach we shared some romantic anniversary-type thoughts.
'You never had that much grey hair when we married,' said the Missus.
"You were a size 12 when we first married,' I reply.

Apparently that does not constitute romantic banter.

Some time later I am getting the blame for the sea splashing her as we walk along the beach paddling. So I decide to defend myself.
'I cannot control the waves. I do not even pretend to able to control the waves. I am not King Canute,' I protest.
'Some of the letters in that king's name are close enough...' says the Missus.

We married well. Still happy...

The Write Stuff!

It's been a busy few weeks on the writing front at From Beer To Paternity Towers with stage plays going off to two theatres, a radio comedy going off to a major production company and a TV show being sent out to two other TV production companies.

The optimism such periods of creativity promotes is a wonderful thing. It's the first day of the football season where your team can still win everything... before hope disintegrates after a string of bad results; it's the anticipation of a first date when there may be romance and mind-blowing sex ahead... before you get dumped for a younger and prettier model.

I'm no longer overly optimistic about sending scripts out. I put the work in and ensure that whatever I'm sending out is better than the last thing I sent out but after that there are so many other factors that decide what gets picked up and what doesn't.

But, like anything else that really matters, it's important to keep doing it and to keep trying because the alternative is just to give up. And that sounds a bit rubbish.

Besides... I can't really do anything else.

Rolling News: Part II...

One of my oldest friends is now back in the UK after living in New Zealand for many years.

We're both Goolies and we both did A Levels together and our lives have intertwined at various stages over theatrical interests and martial arts interests without us actually knowing at the time... and only discovering these bizarre crossover points when we periodically caught up to discuss things.

Apart from us most recently discovering a newish shared passion for cartography, one of the things we're both a bit obsessed about is grappling and groundfighting so once we're sorted with a venue we'll be doing some rolling and some skill swapping.

I'm looking forward to this immensely. I think he is too. I can't think of a better way to reconnect with someone than to do this and in anticipation I've been going over all my old BJJ, submission wrestling, catch-as-catch-can wrestling and judo books and reading up on armbars, kimuras, Americanas and triangle chokes.

I'm even going to suggest we jokingly give ourselves a name:
Goole Wrestling Club: London Branch

It has a certain ring to it...

Rolling News: Part I...

Besides Hapkido, one of my martial arts passions is grappling and groundfighting and I'm a big fan of a website called Grapplearts.com.

This site is run by a guy called Stephan Kesting, who's a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu black belt and a certified instructor in Combat Submission Wrestling under Erik Paulson. The site is part-shopfront for Kesting's various DVDs (and I have his three iPod apps and they are excellent in case you're wondering) but it also has a load of free stuff that you can sign up for, including an email newsletter that features articles and videos on all manner of grappling-based stuff.

Kesting also interviews various luminaries from the world of grappling for a free podcast and his most recent interview features a high-level American BJJ competitor named Ryan Hall, who's a IBJJF/CBJJ Mundial world and European champion and claimed a medal at the ultra-prestigious Abu Dhabi Submission Wrestling World Championship.

The interview is very good and features quite a lot of information that is way over my head but Hall said two things that really struck me.

The first was when he was discussing a particular technique and he very carefully emphasised that this was his understanding of the technique at the moment.

I thought this was important because it showed that even as a high-level competitor he wasn't done understanding the technique yet and that he knew his understanding of it may yet change in years to come. In other words the technique was not a done deal but a steadily evolving organic entity that grows as his understanding of it grows.

The second thing that struck me about this was when he explained that if a more successful or feted grappler should explain the technique in a different way then anyone interested should disregard what he said and listen to them instead.

A willingness to keep on learning and humility. I bet he's a fantastic teacher.

Sign up to Grapplearts.com if you want to hear the full interview.

Love In The Time Of Cholera...

Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s magical realist masterpiece remains one of my favourite books. The story of a teenage love affair in Columbia that is reignited several decades later, it remains one of a handful of books that I go back to every several years and reread and get something new from every time.

When I was a single man I could usually gauge how long any new romance would last by asking if any new partner had read the book and what they thought of it. It wasn't that I was being some sort of intellectual elitist as several former lovers hadn't read the book and they were utterly lovely people, but when you discover you have the same shared literary passion as somebody new in your life then an immediate bond is formed.

When I first got together with the Missus we were discussing favourite books and when I asked her about the Marquez novel her immediate response was 'I've read it and I love it.'

One of the bits in the book we talked about way back then is towards the end of the story when the reunited lovers are travelling on a boat. They are both well into old age and they both have to deal with the practicalities of old age, such as inserting suppositories into one another and masking the smell of their urinary accidents. It sounds disgusting but it beautifully suggests that love is not just the province of the young and that there is also tenderness in caring for your lover in a very intimate way.

Some 15 years after me and the Missus got together, I fear we are now turning into the two ageing lovers from Love In The Time Of Cholera. With her chronically injured shoulder and my occasional martial arts ninja-ries we do seem to be spending lots of time nursing each other at the moment.

I fear suppositories are probably just around the corner, which would be ironic as she often says I'm a pain in the arse. You can probably make your own, better gags...