Great TV Shows That Nearly Were: Part IV...

Here are some more entries. 

The Other Woman has addd: 

Eight Out of Ten Cats Does Cuntdown: Panellists from Eight Out of Ten Cats throw leather-bound dictionaries at a line-up of Tory politicians. Coconut Shy rules apply.

I have added: 

Splay for Today: Unemployed actors and actresses show off a range of fuck cavities as they turn to prostitution to make ends meet.

Great TV Shows That Nearly Were: Part III...

My latest additions is:

Grand Designs: Some bloke who loves architecture shows moneyed but clueless middle-class twonks try to create a better home. 

Gran Designs: A lentil-eating, well-meaning gimp shows moneyed but clueless middle-class twonks how to create a better elderly relative.

The Other Woman also came up with the following: 

Through the Keyhole: Panel show that used to be presented by bespectacled vo-wel-el-on-ga-tor Loyd Grossman before he went off to make pasta sauces.

Through the Beyhole: A round-up of the idiotic nuggets spewed out of the ass of Beyoncé and other urban music stars. Russell Kane presents.

Great TV Shows That Nearly Were: Part II...

One-day International Cricket: Live! A full-day match featuring some cricketers from somewhere else other than England. That could mean Wales. Or even Scotland.

One-gay International Cricket: Live! A full 24 hours as the cameras film a solitary gay man or woman from another country playing cricket on their own. Richie Benaud and a token woman commentate. Other sporting talking heads pretend not to be homophobic.

Great TV Shows That Nearly Were: Part I...

The Other Woman refers to me as a Walking Filth Bucket but she can be equally disgusting, so I am inventing a new game.

It's called Great TV Shows That Nearly Were and the rules are simple: take a real TV show and switch one letter or add and remove one letter to make it a more interesting TV show. For additional points, you can also give a brief listing for the show.

Here is an example:
Great Canal Journeys: A well-famous actor enjoys another exciting adventure of discovery with his lovely wife.
Great Anal Journeys: See above.

This could run and run...

Wise Words...

UK protest singer, folk guru and all-round good guy Billy Bragg has been touring a new album, Shine a Light, with collaborator and US singer-songwriter Joe Henry. 

The album chronicles in blues and country music form a rail journey they made across the US from Chicago to Los Angeles. The album is fab and I'm a long-time Bragg convert, but I was very impressed with Henry, whose work I'd never come across.

Henry also said something very wise about the Trump victory in the recent US election. 

He said: 'This is where we are. It's not who we are.' 

I think that's as true of the Trump victory as it is of the UK Brexit vote. Both nations are currently on a path of anger, hatred and racism that seems intent on banishing any idea of compassion. 

It's not a good path. But it's also not a final destination.

So Long Leonard Cohen...

There will be more moving and coherent tributes paid to Leonard Cohen than these ramblings, but the news of his death earlier this week genuinely moved me.

I was a late convert to Cohen, thanks to a former girlfriend, and his music, lyrics and wry sense of self-deprecating humour have offered me peace, wisdom and entertainment for nearly two decades. His career has obviously lasted much longer than that, but the great thing about coming to any fanboy party late is that there is more material to enjoy.

Various Positions and I'm Your Man were my entrees to Cohen's music, then I started listening to his earlier work. His last CD, You Want it Darker, is a pleasure I have yet to enjoy but it's purchased and is ready to go.

I plan to wait until I have a quiet hour with just me, the cat and a glass of wine before pressing play, though. I want to savour the moment.

As you'd expect from a great lyricist and an acclaimed poet and novelist, Cohen was also a great story-teller. My favourite Cohen story related to his meeting with Janis Joplin and the story was often told as a prelude to the song, Chelsea Hotel.

In Cohen's own words:

'This is a story that I tell every time I sing this song and I'm going to keep on telling it as long as I'm singing. It's a story about a young woman that I met in an elevator in a hotel in New York City. One of the greatest singers that I ever heard. I was wandering around all night. That was a great elevator, you know. It was only about four feet wide. It was the very hub of my social activity. I didn't get around very much, but sometimes I'd meet somebody in that elevator. Around three in the morning, I used to see this other dismal person in this elevator. And I looked into her eyes. She avoided my eyes and it became clear to me that she wasn't looking for me. She was looking for Kris Kristofferson. I said, 'I am Kris Kristofferson.' She said, 'I thought you were a lot taller.' I said, 'I am a lot taller but it's just photography.' And the truth be told, I wasn't looking for her; she was a kind of sad-looking girl with knotty, curling hair and a very bad complexion. I wasn't looking for her. I said, 'Well, the truth be told, I'm looking for the granddaughter of Mae West.' She didn't even exist. And one thing lead to another. Well, we found ourselves together. And it was a long time later after she died that I wrote this song for her. Her name was Janis Joplin. It was at the Chelsea Hotel.'

Thanks Leonard. You are Kris Kristofferson. And remain so much more.

Blue Belt...

 

I attended a grading at my BJJ school this weekend and I got my blue belt.

To say I was chuffed is an understatement. I never take any belt promotion for granted, but I felt as though I'd had a solid year where some techniques and strategies were starting to bed in.

My guard and guard attacks are better than they were, I'd added an overhook guard and attacks into the mix, I have some half guard technique, and I'm slowly learning to transition between all three positions. Much else is still pretty woeful, but there are signs if life. 

More importantly, my instructors thought so and I am now promoted. 

Getting a new belt is always daunting as you have to rise to the challenge, but it's also important not to be too worried. 

It's the same journey and the same path. It just means you've hit a different road sign telling you where you are. So I am pleased, humbled and nervous. But I'm well happy, too.

And I can now use wristlocks!

Bad Husband Points...

Work is unbearable at the moment: a new editorial system that is not fit for purpose and a heavier workload are creating a huge amount of increased stress. I am unhappy and tired and it is not good.

On the plus side, I have the Missus. She went through a similar thing several years ago and she's been ace. I am aware, though, that I have been an absent husband for a few weeks now. Even worse, I have not been a particularly present one when not absent.

So this weekend, I got my shit together and engaged: two cooked breakfasts and two cooked meals later and I have earnt some Good Husband Points to balance out all the Bad Husband Points I'd been steadily amassing.

I am confident my marriage will survive many worse and more serious tests than this current corporate non-lubed arse-fuckery. I'm just not sure my sanity will.

OWWLOW News...

The Other Woman Who Loves Other Women has emigrated to live in the USA with her wife. I was sad to see her leave. We've not only trained hapkido together for more than a decade, but we're also friends. She remains one of the best people I know.

She also puts up with my constantly flirty nonsense and filth and, I'm pleased to report, an ocean between us hasn't diminished her ability to do that.

There are not many women I could refer to as 'a fine bit of booty' or 'world-class trim' and not get slapped. I bloody love her. And I miss her, too.

But I'm delighted she's happy and she's taken the chance to do something amazing like pack up in the UK and have a go somewhere else. Her courage and her passion for life continues to amaze, impress and inspire even when she's an ocean away.

Zante: Part V...

Bloody addictive mobile phone games!

No sooner have I weaned myself off Scrabble and Countdown, then I download Wordbrain... and, by Jimminy Cricket, it is bloody addictive.

It's essentially a wordfinder where the letters forming the identified linked words drop away from a grid once you have found the word. The depleted grid then offers new possibilities. Clear one 4x4 or 5x5 grid, then start another.

I currently have the brain of a whale according to the game's rating system. This is probably not a compliment...

Honky Tonk Samurai...

I am a long-time lover of the work of hardbitten-cum-offbeat thriller writer Joe R Lansdale. I thought The Bottoms and Cold in July were grimly fabulous, and I have also dipped into his short stories.

My favourite novels by him, though, are the Hap and Leonard books, which chronicle the misadventures of East Texas disaster magnets and best pals Hap Collins and Leonard Pine.

Honky Tonk Samurai is the ninth full-length novel featuring the duo, who have also starred in a couple of novellas, and it's a cracking story, littered with all the usual smart and funny dialogue and bizarre plot twists you'd expect.

Reading this book was like catching up with two old friends whose company you always enjoy, and I'm looking forward to our next hook-up when the next novel is out.

I'll also be catching up with online TV series on Amazon, too.

Love these guys.

Zante: Part IV....

'You're a sexy lady,
I'm a sexy man,
I may not have too much money,
But I treat you the best I can...'

I have just got out of the shower after a day on the beach and I am serenading the Missus. I am being romantic. I am all allure. She, however, thinks otherwise.

'I am reading a tragic book about a dying man. You can't sing, your rhyme structure sucks... and put some fucking clothes on!'

This was not the response I was looking for. I may dress as a plumber next time I am doing the romance. That always works in the films I watch.

Zante: Part III...

My cultural highlight of the holiday in Greece so far has been a trip to Olympus, site of the original Olympic Games in Ancient Greece.

It's essentially a museum-cum-ongoing-outdoor-excavation-site, a bit like The Forum in Rome, and it's very impressive.

From the demolished temples, to the workshop of sculptor Pheidias, to the arena where the games were contested, it's a fascinating place.

My favourite place was the Palaistra, an area where the wrestlers, boxers and Pankration fighters trained. I even did some punching and kicking drills to get into the spirit of it.

My favourite non-cultural thing a game I invented called Sneaky Bum Touch. This involves subtely touching the bum of your other half when they are not expecting it. Additional points are gained for Sneaky Cock Touch or Sneaky Fanny Touch. This may be the new Pokemon-go! Or Poke-a-man/ho!

Zante: Part II...

I am reading again and it is an utter joy. Although joy may not be the right word considering I am reading about crime and punishment in London, thanks to Catherine Arnold's excellent history on the subject, and the history of syphilis, thanks to Claude Quetel's book.

The Missus did suggest the latter was not appropriate holiday reading, but it's fascinating.

A lot of the moral and social arguments about sexually transmitted diseases in 16th and 17th century Europe were rooted in religious bigotry. It's disturbing to note that we don't seem to have come very far in the 21st century in that respect either.

Zante: Part I...

Me and the Missus are finally on holiday. I say 'finally' because it's been 20 long months since we last had a two-week break.

Our destination is a boutique hotel in a far-away corner of the Ionian island of Zante. It is beautiful and I can see us returning here.

The first thing I note is how long it takes me to fully unwind. It's at least four days. This is bad and it makes me realise how corporate-damaged I'd become at work, operating under continued and ever-increasing pressure in a toxic environment. I can't alter the environment as it's too entrenched, but the long and unrewarded hours are not continuing when I return.

The second thing I realise is that I have done virtually no playwrighting this year. I've done plenty of freelance writing work for money, but I have done little of my own stuff. This changes when I get back.

Finally, I have read one book this year. That will also change as I begin to read again this holiday.

Funeral Rites: Part I...

The Missus' stepfather died a few weeks ago, so we headed to Aylesbury for the funeral. 

The service was very moving and the church was packed, then we headed to the cemetery for the burial. 

Merrick, the stepfather, was Jamaican and he arrived in the UK in the late 1940s on the second boat after the Windrush. So there was a filling-in at the graveside, which means that friends and family complete the burial after the coffin is lowered into the grave and they shovel the earth into the hole, then decorate the grave. 

I'd never seen this before and it was both alien and very moving. My brother-in-law, who was very close to Merrick, joined in with this process. 

Then it was off to the wake and a joyous night listening to reggae, roots, dancehall and ska because Merrick was not only a DJ but also a major music fan and record-buyer. 

It was a moving day and a fabulous goodbye party. Merrick was a lovely fella and he'll be missed. I'll be listening to Joe Turner this week and thinking of you. Rest in peace.

Things Young People Say: Part I...

I have learnt a new phrase. This is 'Facepalms'. It's apparently something that people say when they are exasperated and it represents a person holding his head in his hands. 

I've decided I can do young people's words, too. So here is my first entry:
Anklebum: This applies when you've put your foot in it and it's worse than a little embarrassing. It means you've put your foot in it and you're nearly in the shit. 

It's probably not my best work. But others will be.

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part VI...

'I'd like to fist you like a human glove puppet. While wearing a gauntlet from a suit of armour. With a lance still in its hand.'

Sentences I Never Thought I'd Hear: Part V...

'I'd like to shit in your mouth, then sew your lips shut.'

Sentences I Never Thought I"d Hear: Part IV...

'You look so old. You're even wearing MC Hammer pants.'