One Hand Clapping

I'm typing this with just one hand. Stop laughing. It's nothing like that. I think I may have a problem. You see, it's my left wrist... these past few weeks it just hasn't been right - and I have this awful feeling that I may never play the piano again.

But sod the piano. If I want music, I'll listen to the radio. I'm more worried about my ability to type. Already I have discovered that I'm rather good typing with just one hand, and that at least reassures me that my life will not be completely over if some white-coated medical professional tells me to lay off the keyboarding. I'm feeling better now, but this morning I was in quite the funk. Could I cope as a one-handed virtuoso?

There are special keyboards that were designed specially for unipaws. Or maybe I could get one of those voice recognition headsets that you see on QVC. I'd just have to get used to saying all my typing out loud, comma, complete with all the punctuation and stuff full stop. New paragraph.

I will never finish my book with one hand. Typing like this is hurting my back. I hope I'm not going to have to keep this up for long. Maybe I'd better order one of those crazy keyboards, just in case. Maybe I should employ a secretary. Oh, this is a worry. I hope I'm just being silly.

Help! Help!

This is terrible. I want to do my shopping and ensure that my home is full of adequate provisions in order that I may live, thrive and survive for another week.. and Tesco's Online Grocery Delivery Website is broken, or at least faulty in some way, advising me to "please try later."

This is awful! What happens if I try later and it is still not working? A man could starve to death. Earlier today my Internet stopped working for several minutes. This too poses a major threat to road safety. The world is just too unreliable these days.

On How Gameshows Is

Out of the many hundreds of TV channels on satellite, there is sometimes a chance that you might find something good on. And in a sea of programmes that are strange and unfamiliar, there's always a good chance that "the best thing on" is going to be something old that you remember from the days when there were only three channels and you were grateful that there was anything on at all.

A channel which used to be good for that was 'Challenge TV', which used to screen classic game shows. You could marvel at the 1980s style of 3-2-1, or ponder exactly how it was that Max Bygraves managed to appear to be the world's surliest and least interested game show host during his time on Family Fortunes.

This was possible until Challenge TV lost their minds, and decided that nobody wanted all these old classic programmes, and that instead it would be "better" to show modern game shows which nobody had ever heard of, or, crucially, gave a damn about.

So it was back in 2003, before the rot set in, that I found myself watching 3-2-1 again. Now, picking holes in TV programmes that were made more than 20 years ago is much like shooting fish in a barrel, but in some ways it's reassuring to confirm that TV hasn't dumbed down at all - it was dumbed down back then as well. 3-2-1 obligingly provides the perfect sample, being the primetime Saturday evening show of ITV in the early 80s. Your host is the legendary Ted Rogers, who was famous for.. er.. being the host of 3-2-1, and doing that thing with his fingers which we all thought was so complex at the time before we could afford video recorders with a pause button.

Three groups of contestants, first subjected to a baffling question-and-answer session on subjects as diverse as "things which are square", eventually progressed to the main part of the evening's entertainment - a selection of comedy and/or dramatic sketches, each one bringing with it a clue, a curious riddle, and an associated prize which might be something as fabulous as a car, or something as unfabulous as the legendary Dusty Bin. (Although contestants did not get to take home the expensive remote-controlled bin which existed only for the cameras, but instead, a rather more ordinary dustbin which most contestants probably discarded to avoid the complexity of getting it on the train back home.)

The prize riddles were the most inpenetrable things - designed to fox and baffle the contestants such that they had no idea whether their prize would be that fabulous car or that fabulous bin. And it's perhaps this which was the most endearing part of the show.

In one episode of 3-2-1, where the baffled contestants have just been treated to a rip-roaring French can-can number, one of the dancers comes to the stage to deliver the clue. "Ooh la la, I am from Par-ee-s", she says. "In France!", Ted Rogers helpfully explains to the baffled ITV audience.

But it's at this stage that the boom is lowered on the contestants, and 3-2-1 abandons any hint of being on their side. From now on, all prizes are hidden behind complex riddles which are nothing if not unhelpful.

A typical 3-2-1 riddle might go something like this:

I'm made of metal, but not the good kind
Inside me is something you won't want to find
This prize isn't something a sane man would pick
If you go for this one, you'll just feel so sick.

Even the perplexed ITV viewers, still reeling from the earlier Geography lesson, would at this point be asking themselves "Is it Dusty Bin?" - but what of the contestants? If convinced that this prize must be the bin, they can take the option to "reject" it. This will still leave them with several more riddles to get through, but at least they know it'll be something "good" (even if it is a set of Yorkshire Television spoons) and not Dusty Bin.

Once the contestants had decided which prize to reject, it was up to the nice Mr Rogers to open the envelope and explain the riddle in enormous depth. Here's what the contestants are hoping to hear:

"'I'm made of metal, but not the good kind' - well, if it's not good then it must be cheap, the kind of metal that you'd throw away. 'Inside me is something you won't want to find' - well, you definitely wouldn't want to find something after you'd thrown it away, into a bin perhaps. 'This prize isn't something a sane man would pick, if you go for this one, you'll just feel so sick' - well you'd certainly be insane to pick this, it's Dusty Bin! Well done, you've rejected the bin!"

Cue scenes of contestants jumping up and down, happy to have rejected the booby prize, and now certain that whatever they leave with, it must be good.

Or it could go another way.

"'I'm made of metal, but not the good kind' - well, lots of things are made of metal, and some are made of steel, and if it's not good then it might be less, or stain-less steel. 'Inside me is something you won't want to find', well, there could be some dust inside a car, perhaps, if it had been sitting in a showroom. 'This prize isn't something a sane man would pick' - well, if you were sane you wouldn't pick something up if it was two tonnes of steel, 'If you go for this one, you'll just feel so sick' - and you might feel sick if you were driving fast in tonight's star prize, a brand new Austin Allego car!... But you've rejected it. Suckers."

Heads I win, tails you lose - in some ways, it's hard not to admire that. If only 3-2-1 was still on telly.

Things What I Wrote

The Happy Green Frog Song: (copyright June 2002)

# Oh, I know about a happy green frog
# That lives at the bottom of my garden
# It goes "Croak! Croak!" every night
# And keeps me awake,
# Which makes me so tired
# That I can't write songs which rhyme. #

No Entry

I have new neighbours, although I don't know them. It's not a terribly interesting fact but it came up in conversation earlier, and it caused me to consider why it is that I haven't taken the initiative to beat down their door to introduce myself.

It's hard to know whether these days, as a society, we tend to keep ourselves to ourselves more.. or whether that's just me. I guess there's some comfort in generalising - to assume that the rest of the world is more like you than not. But in all fairness, maybe I'm more reluctant to step up and say "Hi" than the next man.

I guess I've always been fairly introvert, but I wonder if, as time goes on, I'm not becoming even more so. I have the strangest feeling that, when it comes to friends and acquaintances, I'm closed for new business. Not accepting applications. Is that a bad thing?

Do I need more friends? Do I need more acquaintances? (I'm using both of those words as if they're different things, but I'm not sure I consciously make the distinction.) Maybe I've just come to the conclusion that I know enough people now, and don't have room for any more. People I work with, the handful of friends from former lives, and the few people I talk to online.. Maybe that's enough.

Then again, I suspect that might be how I rationalise it. Maybe underneath, my motives could be quite different. After all, making new friends is hard. It carries the risk of rejection and pain. Other people can be full of surprises, which might be pleasant - but also might not be, and chances are that it's not worth the risk.

Maybe it's stupid - well, I'm fairly sure that it is - but perhaps it's just my way of avoiding the difficult stuff. Aren't human beings complicated and sad creatures?

Then again.. maybe that's just me. :-)

Preventing Death By Smoothness

Eating well is difficult. Particularly when you have to take acccount of the various 'superfoods' which we are told are ever so good for us, and must be consumed regularly, in order not to die. What foods are 'in' and 'out' seems to change on a week by week basis, but with the help of AOL's frivolous "Lifestyle" section, I have obtained this list of top nosh which is required to stay young, beautiful, and undead. Or maybe that should be un-dead, since "undead" has quite a different meaning to the literal.

The problem is, in today's busy world, it is hard to work the required number of portions of avocados and soil into your everyday dietary habits. A solution is required. Those who enjoy getting their vitamins from a tablet rather than fresh vegetables, ripped from the ground bursting with nutrients and so on, will already be aware of the (rather large) tablets which do all the thinking for you, delivering "100% RDA" of every vitamin that is good for you.

Vitamins are interesting, but not the whole solution. Apparently you actually need to eat fresh fruit and vegetables as well. Five a day, no less. Tony Blair says so. Remembering to eat enough fruit can also be difficult, but again, there is a lazy alternative. The nice people at Innocent make smoothie drink things which contain your "100% RDA" of all the fruit you're meant to eat in a day, all smooshed together in a little bottle which costs something not far short of £3, which in itself is 100% of the recommended daily donation to the profits of Innocent Nice Fruity Drinks And Nuclear Aerospace Holdings Incorporated.

But it's still not enough. How can you guarantee your RDA of Omega 3, a new invention found naturally in tubs of Flora margarine, and apparently now also present in oily fish, never ones to miss a marketing opportunity.

How can I be sure I'm getting my RDA of vitamins and fruits and vegetables and kippers, weird-looking avocados and everything else that people are supposed to eat to keep themselves on the side of the living?

Perhaps Innocent had a good idea, they just didn't go far enough. Getting your 100% RDA of fruit in a smoothie is one thing - how about getting your 100% RDA of EVERYTHING in a smoothie?

According to my research, the following ingredients would need to be 'smoothed' in order to create the ultimate "everything smoothie":

5 portions of fruit and/or vegetables (so that Jamie Oliver feels like a big man)
1 portion of Sardines (Swordfish will do if you're out.) (Good for the heart, diabetes, and arthritis)
3 servings of fruit juice (to prevent alzheimers and memory loss, apparently)
1 avocado (high in "healthy" monounsaturated fat and potassium, for detox)
1 portion of Brazil Nuts (high in selenium, which I think is what electronics are made of)
1 portion Broccoli (this probably counts as a vegetable, but is high in folate, which apparently, like beans, is good for the heart.)
1 portion Cabbage (contains "Amazing" anti-cancer compounds, sez AOL)
1 helping of Berries (Like Laborotoires Garnier, they neutralise free radicals and stop bacteria sticking to your urinary parts. Although they don't advertise that second part for some reason.)
2 carrots (lowers cholesterol by 10%, apparently.)
1 tomatoes (Reduces risk of cancer in the lower portions, it says here.)
1 bag of grapes (avoids wrinkly skin - huh, someone tell that to the sultanas.)
1 bar of dark chocolate (Supposed to stop... something or other. They say it's good for you now, anyway.)
2 litres of water (urban myth)
1 large vitamin tablet (for anything else that's missing. Eat more Zinc!)

I'm fairly sure this isn't a complete list, more will need to be added to the recipe as science continues and more pointless articles are published in the Daily Mail about what is good for you this week. But, in theory, a daily helping of the trademarked "Everything Smoothie" is all that is needed to avoid unwanted death. Unless you're allergic to nuts. Or avocadoes.. Or chocolate. Or selenium.

And of course, what it might actually taste like is a different issue again.

Lies My Parents Told Me, Volume 1

It takes me a while to work things out sometimes. It once took me twenty years to get a joke from The Two Ronnies - but, like most things I got there in the end. Adulthood brings wisdom, and suddenly things from your childhood tend to make lots more sense - or be exposed as the shabby deceptions that they are.

One of my favourite toys when I was about four years old was Tom, one half of the popular beat combo "Tom & Jerry", which, like the Bay City Rollers, was the style at the time.

Tom was made of some kind of bendy, rubber-type material, and was quite tall in stature - something like 12 inches tall I'm sure. And in the hands of a four year old, anything that bends is most definitely bent - consistently, and repeatedly. Such is the life of a hard-wearing children's toy.

Problem is, after a while, even the most resilient toy will start to show the strain. And after many years in my toy box, Tom was starting to come to pieces. This did not matter to me at all, but it was clearly a problem for my parents who were probably concerned at the possible hazards that a gradually disintegrating bendy toy could pose to someone so young. I was, after all, but four years old. And it was that blissful naivety that would be targeted in a most sinister operation.

Mumsie explained to me that my ragged old Tom was not well. I had not noticed this previously - there had been no signs of lethargy, no tell-tale coughs, nothing to indicate that my beloved Tom was under the weather. But it was true, and in order to make Tom feel better, he would need to go to the toy hospital. There was nothing to worry about, Tom would be well looked after, and would return once he had been made all better.

Poor Tom. Sad to see him go, I bade him farewell as Mumsie swept him away. I was sure that I would see him soon.

Time passed - quite some time, in fact, during which time I am sure that my constant enquiries as to Tom's status were nothing less than adorable. But eventually, one day, Tom came back.

Mumsie revealed Tom, all better from his trip to the toy hospital, and.. smaller. Much smaller. He still looked like Tom. Still that same smiley face. Still very bendy. Not quite soperished as before, so clearly the hospital had done a good job. But Tom was half the size he used to be!

Even a four year old would detect such a thing, and indeed I enquired as to why Tom was now so diminished in stature. But of course the answer was obvious - it was the hospital treatment and the medicine that had made Tom smaller.

Oh, of course. Because when you're four, an explanation like that goes down real smooth. Something so obvious is self-evident, once you think about it. After all, hospitals must be full of harsh abrasive medicines which would make people shrink like that. Such a thing seemed entirely plausible - common sense, in fact. And so, my curiosity satisfied, I accepted this version of events, and went about the busy life that four-year-olds tend to lead.

It wasn't until much later that I realised. Because you know.. I don't think there IS a toy hospital. And I think that was a different Tom!

Damn, I'm Gorgeous

Spending some time in my Second Life earlier, I caught sight of myself from the side on. And suddenly I realised.. Damn! I'm gorgeous! I don't mean to sound conceited, but it suddenly struck me just how entirely wonderful I looked. This, in turn, made me struggle to remember that historical figure who fell in love with their own reflection.. Icarus? Narcissus? Maybe Cassius, inventor of the calculator and digital watch. I didn't really pay much attention in history class.

"There's a lot of vampires out there, hanging out to grab your soul
They don't live in transylvania, they don't live in rock and roll.." - are just about the only lyrics from 'Vampires' that can be discussed in nice company.

Don't Believe The Hype

If the mysterous page counter of doom is to be believed, this is already AOL's fastest-growing blog, on account of having been viewed at least 8 times before I have even written a single word.

Then again, it's probably just counting when I look at the page. And I expect there's going to be a lot of that, because I can't really imagine too many other people actually reading this. Talking to yourself is often incorrectly diagnosed as "the first sign of madness", but apparently blogging to yourself is a perfectly legitimate activity.

I will confess that this is my first "proper" blog (if you ignore the other two that I don't tell people about), and in many ways I like to think that I actually invented blogging, because (in another place) I used to write long rambling articles about myself and inflict them on other people long before it became fashionable.

However, if the page counter keeps up with current trends, in the last few minutes this has probably become the most popular blog on AOL in recorded history. All this for such a disappointing first entry. I promise to do better in future. Maybe.

Note from October 2008: OK, so this blog started out on AOL, but then AOL turned to poop and shut down their blogging facilities. So it's here now. I always knew Blogger was better, really... :-)