Summer of Love

“And so I’m back, in cyberspace,
Sitting here writing with a smug grin upon my face,
You should have pressed that unsubscribe,
You should have done what others do,
If you’d thought for just one second I’d be back to bother you ….”

When I started blogging, it was for a purpose; for cathartic reasons. The fact that I may have informed and entertained was secondary (bit like the BBC in that respect, but more about your favourite Auntie later). However, after not blogging for almost half a year, I’ve also realised that I missed it – hence the homage to Ms Gaynor to start it off.

I’m not the only one to have missed it either. People have continually asked me when I’m doing my next blog. When I say people, I mainly mean Parker* and TRG*, but they’re people. And continually is probably stretching it a bit really.

Ok, stretching it a lot!

But I have had over 300 people a month read the blog during my hiatus. And I’ve been randomly favourited by someone in Guadeloupe as well. Happy now?

And for no other reason apart from the fact that The Divine Mr M* enjoys them, here’s a picture of Lucy Pinder (almost) in a Chelsea kit.

5+ months is a long time to cover off in a short blog, so I’ll probably have to blog again. Nevertheless, the important stuff – Lucy is still dumped, and regardless of how much she’s been begging, that will remain so. The thing with TRG has a tinge of permanence about it.

On the quiz front, it’s mainly been dealing with things down at The Green Dragon*, although I did join an impromptu team with The Seven Year Bitch*, and we pissed all over the competition in a SpeedQuiz (10 seconds to answer a multiple choice question on an iPad). 371 points saw us win some Ferrero Rocher. It was like being at the Ambassador’s Party. We also had the best team name of the night – Freudian Slits (7YB’s choice, not mine, although I would love to take credit for it)

Myself and TRG were also banned from the quiz at her local, because we keep on winning. Even though there’s only two of us, and the other teams are usually 4 to 6 people.

Winning quizzes against 4 to 6 people is great, but only when it really matters. Back in the heady days of the summer of 15 (which is not as good as the Summer of 69) I sort of bullied Penzance*, Dirty Beans* and three others from work to agree to apply to go on Eggheads. I did this on the basis that there is no hope we would even be considered.

The application went in on the Monday, and by the Thursday we were sitting in a meeting room at work at lunchtime with Bobs* producing our audition video (she’d been on a media course the week earlier, so it would be a shame to waste it).

Fast forward two weeks, and we were in Glasgow, in the studio, tussling it out with ‘probably the countries greatest quiz team’. Except is wasn’t. Both Pat and Bazza were missing, but we still had Kevin to contend with. That’s multiple quiz world champion Kevin. No Pat or Bazza was a bonus for us; talking to the production crew before filming, it turned out that the other missing Egghead (we’ll call him JC to protect his identity) was a bonus for everyone!

Anyway, while I’m contractually bound not to discuss the result, let’s just say that, on an individual basis, my knowledge of Danish explorers was found wanting. Especially when it turns out that EVERYONE I’ve asked the question to knew the answer. C’est la vie.

I do have pictures though:

At work we published a report to say that, over the same period of time I’ve not been blogging, we’ve managed to resolve half a dozen complaints. Stunni* was particularly proud of this achievement, and sent a copy to anyone who might possibly read it.

Someone did, took it seriously, and decided that the wider world needed to know. He got invited to be on the sofa on BBC Breakfast. It’s no Lorraine, but he did have to go to Manchester to be treated like a celebrity. Although he was disappointed when he realised that actually meant eating kangaroo testicles and witchetty grubs while Ant & Dec hid behind a tree.

At 4:30pm on the night before his TV appearance, the BBC also decided that they wanted someone on Radio 5 at 5am the following morning, followed by a live interview on the News Channel. As Penzance is now banned from the BBC due to that incident with ‘Tremendous Knowledge’ Dave (which we legally can’t talk about), it fell on me to have to do this.

This meant a no-expenses paid trip to Londinium, and an overnight stay in a hotel room so small that the sink was in a cupboard (I shit you not). And my 5am appearance on the radio was cancelled because of other, more important, world events – Justin Beiber had tweeted like a twat again, or something like that!

I still had to be at the studio at 5:30am for interviews on local radio – I’m now a legend in Lancashire, and a bell end in Derbyshire. Then, at 7am, I was told to come back at 11am for my live interview. I mean, this is not what you expect from your licence fee. We got sandwiches at Eggheads, but now, without a by your leave, I’m on the streets on a wet Thursday morning with four hours to kill. And the shops didn’t open until 10am. And Burger King was shut for refurb. Bloody BBC.

After huddling in a doorway for four hours, I returned and my TV career resumed. 2½ minutes of acting like a politician and answering the questions I wanted to, not the ones I was asked, and it was all over.Now I have the taste for it, I think I might apply for The Chase.

Given the wonders of the Sky+ app on my phone, I was able to view my performance when I got home. So was everyone else, whether they wanted to or not. TRG is already fed up with me saying “I’ve been there” everytime the news comes on.

The one thing about this appearance was that it was Movember. And early enough in the month so I looked like I couldn’t be arsed to shave as well. Not the case, as I’m raising money for mens cancer charities by growing stupid facial hair for a month. This year I’ve opted for Victorian style cavalry whiskers. By the end of the month, I hope to look something like this:

Although Dirty Beans reckons that I’ll end up more like this:

Either way, it’s not quite the lumbersexual look!

Finally, why Summer of Love? Well, it’s not just not just hippies in the late 60s that can enjoy this, but hippies in their late 60s as well (actually rock fans in their 40s, but you get my drift)

So, in the words of the Governator – I’ll be back

Footnote: Guadeloupe is a French overseas territory in the Caribbean – I had to look it up! Lumbersexual (an urban man with scruffy hair, checked shirt and unkempt beard to give the impression he lives a rugged outdoor lifestyle) was runner up in the 2015 word of the year. The OED chose ‘face with tears of joy’ emoji as the winner. Now I might be missing the point, but shouldn’t the word of the year actually be a word?

Finally, you can sponsor my facial hair growth, see pictures and videos, by clicking on Movember. Thanks for your support.

*see Cast List