HOLD THE PHONE!

The other day I sat down and realised it was time I grasped the nettle: it was high time I collated a whole lot of "fabulous" ideas that I had stored in the voice memo section of various phones that I have owned over the years.

Years ago (before the invention of mobile phones) I used to carry a small notebook with me which, as time went on, turned into a Filofax. This contained an annual insert which at the end of the year would carefully be removed and placed in the plastic wrapper that the new year’s insert arrived in. This valuable document of the programme was then placed very carefully.....somewhere.

I still find them from time to time as I am clearing stuff and they prove a fascinating record of the way the show has developed the years….

When I started it some twenty years ago there was no Internet and no text, so the show operated a couple or three days later. Out would go an idea and some time later back it would come.

So the programme would throw out ideas and then sit back and wait. Often nothing happened so we had to do the responses as well. By that I don't mean we made up letters, we just had to run both sides of the idea. More like a stand-up comedian. Although with less swearing and sweating.

Looking at some of those old notebooks I'm surprised anything ever made it to the show as my handwriting is so appalling I can scarcely make out what I wrote. Plus, as I often did a lot of my preparation in the pub, they are rather beer-stained with a reek of old stale tobacco.

Time and technology changed and now with text, email, Twitter and Facebook, as well as this Blog and the Oddcast, we are probably one of the most interactive shows on the radio. This gives you a far greater say in that you can instantly respond or not. Or, if you like, change the topic by introducing a tangent which we call "Fred Slippage".

As far as the way the show arrives at its ideas, the voice memos are a different thing altogether. They consist of random thoughts, usually whispered into them at odd moments. Not wanting to appear a loon, I tend to whisper due to the subject matter. Imagine - if you will - sitting on the bus and the rather dishevelled bloke sitting next to you suddenly pulls out his phone and declares loudly:

"IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE ALL POLITICIANS WERE AXELOTLS"!

Or:

"STRING INFLATION"! (Coming soon, incidentally).

So the other day I sat at my computer with a number of phones trying to write down what I had said.

Many were too garbled. Some the background noise was too loud. Some my voice was unaccountably slurred. Think this may have been a phone fault. Some I had no idea what idea I was trying to convey.

"NICOTINE DOGS" anyone?

So, I compiled a list and sent them to producer, Dr Strangelove.

"Did you get my ideas?" I asked this morning when I arrived.

He looked at me for a moment and then very quietly said

"…yes"

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LONG TALL GLASSES

It is a truism that the best things in life are free.

Think of the joy that is to be had from the crisps that are proffered in the pub and, likewise, the drink that is bought for you.

You are the millionth customer so you get a free tank of petrol at the garage.

You sign up to one of those "you'll soon be dead" offers on daytime TV advertised by Parky or that bloke who used to be on Dr in the House and you get a pen just for calling and a clock, a DVD player or a satnav if you agree to shell out.

Yes, we love something for nothing or the appearance of nothing.

The other night I was invited to the Groucho club in London's Soho for a showcase. I have been a few times but am not a member. It is rammed with Meeja types and Celebs. So it is a bit like a zoo full of self-absorbed people.

"Look at me, I'm a Lemur". "Look at me, I was on QI once". I suppose the famous cram in there to avoid being bothered by the rest of us.

The reason for my visit was the aforementioned showcase. This is where a record company get an artist to play a few tunes in the hope that we will go away and write about them or play their records on the radio.

They are useful exercises as they bring artists you may not have heard otherwise to your attention and there is the unadulterated joy of free food and drink.

This particular nights offering was singer songwriter Laura Comfort. An American with an LA tan and a gym-toned body: tall, willowy and very blonde.

She has a pleasant voice and a good band and - for the single - a string section. However, for some reason she left me cold. I didn't connect with the material at all which was a shame as she worked very hard and Jeff, the plugger, who organised the do is a top bloke.

You can watch a few seconds of her act on my Facebook page. Just click on "videos".

Karma, however, was only a thing on a stick away. First off, I nearly choked to death on a prawn at the start of the evening. Then upon exiting the venue - having had my photograph taken with the artist I noticed - I had somehow spilled Soy Sauce down the front of my shirt! As I was also clutching a carrier bag from a little CD shopping trip I had undertaken earlier, the end result made me look like I had just arrived hot foot from a local bench.

I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOUR HAIR

We're having some pre-wedding photos taken in the park later this week so it seemed a good idea to get my hair cut.

I have mentioned in the past, one of the reasons I wear my hair long is to irritate my more successful colleagues. What they may gain in fame acclaim and riches, they lose in tonsorial ability. I have hair. Lots of it. It is not a rinse: no artificial colourings have been applied to this bonce. If you tug it, it won't come off!

So off to a branch of a well-known hairdressing chain in London's fashionable West End. It is the one near the betting shop.

It is also staffed by rather young women so I feel like a dirty old man when I am in a vibrating chair having my mane washed followed by a head massage. I expect people to shout "sex tourist" at me as I scuttle out.

"What can we do for you today?" asks the 17 year-old stylist before handing me to her 16 year-old assistant.

"haircut, please" beams the raddled old bloke in the chair as he surveys the pile of teen-and-twenty style magazines.

"Do you want a drink of 'HIC' something?"

"No, thanks"

"If I take a HIC bit off the sides it'll be more bigger"

"Just trim it, tidy it and stop it becoming a mullet, please"

"No HIC worries. Sorry I've got HIC hiccups for some reason."

"As long as you don't cut my ear accidentally" I beam.

"Do you use any products?"

"Not really"

"You should try this. Massage it in to wet hair. Then your hair will be less frizzier. It smells nice too. Smell it?"

"Mmm yes it does. What is the smell?"

"I don't know. Smells like summer to HIC me".

After a few more snips I was placed under a gentle heat to dry.

"There. I'll show you the back"

"Er, jolly good."

It did look good too!

"It is better this length and with the stuff on it, it is more bouncier".

With that, and armed with the lotion, I was back on the street. One more weddingy thing crossed off the list.

Hope the Dark Lady likes my new "More bigger. Less frizzier. More bouncier" look!

FIXING HER HAIR

As the nuptial countdown continues we set off early on Friday morning to a "Hair rehearsal". Dark Lady needed us to have a final chat with the reception venue. Also, a final check of the place where the ceremony is going to be held.

All seems to be in hand for our nicely low key day. As I was saying on the show only this morning we are just sourcing the Whalebone and Panda skin Thrones then we are good to go.

Having done my bit - which involves nodding and agreeing mainly, but occasionally offering a thought - DL repaired to a swanky spa type place for the "hair rehearsal. As Hair along with shoes and dress is a deep dark secret, I was sent home in case I saw something I shouldn't.

As I was leaving I passed a shelf of exotic unguents designed for various parts of the body. One labelled "Hand relief". This caused a certain amount of adolescent snurking from yours truly.

I was dispatched home in DL's car. She must love me; she entrusts me to drive her car. All the way home I was trying to work out how to open the windows. It took several miles before I succeeded and fresh air flooded in to the superheated interior. Maybe the time would have been better spent trying to work out how to switch the heater off!

Sunday and the DL had to go see her Mum while I had been invited to a lunch in memory of Roy Tucker, a man who was instrumental in getting me involved in the St Michael's Hospice in St Leonards and was one of the people who set up S.A.F.E., which is an organisation that provides respite care beds.

There was a nice speech of introduction from Chairman, Brion Purdey, and the grace was said by Bishop Roger Jupp. As the event was not only a memorial for a pillar of the local community and well-loved family man but also was a fundraiser, I was tasked with drawing the raffle and running various games designed to make the event go with a swing and extract maximum cash from the guests.

The Church had a field day with the Bishop having a lucky hand indeed when it came to the raffle. He won seemingly loads of prizes including a tube of hand cream. He had let it slip during an earlier conversation over lunch that earlier in his career, whilst in Papua New Guinea, he had confirmed nearly 300 people in one day.

This was the ideal opportunity to try out the "laying on of hands and the hand relief" gag from earlier in the weekend.

Worst moment was when I offered up a few thoughts on the Late Roy who was a whirlwind and had been a much liked and respected public servant over the years. He was a bloke who just wanted to help people and for all the right reasons, not for reasons of personal aggrandisement or ego. This is what I tried to convey in my rather gushing and rambling speech. Mid-way through, pacing the room and sweating like a bull in front of an increasingly bewildered and probably uncomfortable audience, I had a flash back to the Santana gig that the Dark Lady and I went to a year ago where mid-way through, Carlos stopped and gave a fifteen minute speech on "love and light".

Roy's Widow, Ann, very kindly said I "spoke from the heart". This was true but perhaps I should stick to the drawing the raffle in future!

I LOVE THIS BAR

In this job (that isn't really a job) it is a very pleasant way of passing the time to be occasionally invited to a hot ticket event. A couple of years back Country Superstar Toby Keith hit town and I got to see him in concert had a "meet and greet" beforehand. This is a rather American thing where a rather baffled and slightly jet-lagged/drunk/stoned or all three musician is paraded in front of a variety of úber fans and slightly cynical members of the media.

Last time I had my picture taken with him - a big burly man - he appeared to find the whole thing as baffling as I felt embarrassed. A little small talk, a flash pops and up steps, the next candidate to stand next to the performing bear.

This time he had returned in triumph to appear at Wembley as well as other huge venues around the UK.

As a sort of extra he decided to play a small pub in London's Covent Garden as a sort of "thanks" to uber fans and cynical media types.

He sauntered onto the makeshift stage in the corner with his friend and co-writer, Scotty Emerick.

Two blokes with guitars filling themselves nicely with beer; it was going to be something special.

Toby set the scene by telling us that the pub had been turned into a redneck US bar for the evening. It had and speaking from experience of many mid-Western redneck bars, they had done a fine job. It is quite easy really. All you need is the Stars and Stripes tacked up somewhere a neon sign reading "Bar" and NASCAR or similar on all the TV screens. That and bottles of Budweiser which - to Scotty Emerick’s horror - ran out halfway through the gig.

Oh, also scantily clad women/waitresses are a bonus. They were there in abundance.

They then proceeded to kick back and work there way through a few bottles of beer and a load of great country songs, most of which would not make it to radio due to their subject matter.

If you are very PC look away now.

"As Good as I Once Was", a favourite of mine about the ageing process.

"Beer For My Horses", a song he had done with Willie Nelson

So far, so Redneck.

Then they were away just shooting the breeze and out came the songs

"Runnin’ Block" about double-dating and sex with fat girl.

"They showed up in a pick up
They were right on time.
His was kinda hefty
But not half as big as mine"

"Weed with Willie", smoking marijuana with Willie Nelson

"In the foetal position with drool on my chin
We broke down and smoked weed with Willie again".

"Get Out of My Car", a tender song of ever more urgent demands for sex in his truck.

“What would it hurt?
Pull off that shirt
Babe, we've already come this far
Get out of your clothes
Or get out of my car"

Then a surprise novelty song which had the crowd roaring and apparently the video is a huge hit on YouTube and I expect it to be the single from his latest album, Clancy's Tavern.

"Red Solo Cup", a mans elegy to disposable drinking vessels

"No red solo cup is the best receptacle
For barbecues, tailgates, fairs and festivals
And you, Sir, do not have a pair of testicles
If you prefer drinking from glass”

Don't think anyone took offence. Even the rather large woman who was standing in front of me.

The mid-West may appear a different planet to us over here. However, Country music like this is only voicing the drives all feel.

IN AND OUT

A day on the road off to visit my Dad for his birthday; 85 this year (not last as I thought. Started off early from London with a couple of stops en route. One was to collect my wedding suit. Well, jacket. Just as well we have left a few weeks as the lining was deemed incorrectly sewn by the tailor’s nark, so back to the seamstress it went. Also my waistcoat fitted perfectly apart from one fatal flaw: no pocket for my watch. So back that went as well. Otherwise they were both a perfect fit!

Stopped off at a suburban shop whose sign boasted "Drinks and Groceries" in order to buy a loaf of bread and, to our amusement, it did contain a couple of loaves of bread and some sweets, but apart from that it was stacked from floor to ceiling with booze. If you wanted "slabs" of lager this was your Aladdin’s cave. You couldn't move for flagons of cider and huge bottles of cheap wine.

Then it was off to the hotel where we had agreed to meet for lunch.

Dad, his partner, June, and my Sister and Brother-in-law, plus the Dark Lady. Guess who was the designated driver? Still, I had had my fill of hooch due to standing in a shop surrounded by gallons of it a few minutes earlier. So it was no great hardship. Plus I am not a lunchtime drinker as after just one glass I fall asleep and wake up feeling rotten a couple of hours later.

We had a drink in the bar and ordered our food and were shown into the dining room. We hear talking coming from somewhere in the room. Was it haunted? It sounded odd. In fact…it sounded like David Cameron.

Nothing is guaranteed to put you off your food than to hear a politician pontificating. No matter what political hue, they all seem to speak in the same way. If you examine what they are saying they are not answering the questions put to them and just fill the air with empty phrases and buzzwords. In the run up to an election just keep a count of the times an MP uses the phrase "Hardworking families" and you will see what I mean.

I eventually found the culprit hiding behind the curtains. A rather battered radio/CD player. I switched it off and peace reigned.

The food was excellent. There was something on the menu for all of us and - to John, my Brother-in-law's delight - there were desserts which put me in mind of one of contributions to National Fridge Freezer Week on the show; Ian from Bournemouth told us in 1964, his late Mother spent her £14 winnings from Zetters Pools on a fridge freezer, so they were the only family in their street who didn't OD on custard at the end of the week as they tried to use up all the milk before it went off.

Then it was into the car and all the way back to London with the DL snoozing, waking with a start, making some business calls and emailing clients then going back to sleep again.

A good day.

I AM A CAMERA

Decided to get a head start with the Christmas shopping as I had some time to spare, plus the weather meant my proposed trip out to Upminster to do a bit of flying was postponed yet again.

Dark Lady had been trying to get a certain camera for a close relative (who if he is reading this will have to be extra good and tidy his room or Santa ain't making another appearance this side of the next Millennium).

She had tried on the Internet and the particular one in the right colour was out of stock.

I offered to wander down London's Tottenham Court Road which is a mecca for gadget seekers and electrical nerds. It would give me a chance to look at all the stuff that was on offer. Although I must admit, at my time of life, windows full of shiny objects have lost their pull. I now have all the shiny objects I need. I still have a couple of VHS machines at home and several DVD machines which are practically being given away with petrol these days.

A walk in the park and headed for the shops. Competition is fierce with a certain level of "make me an offer". It is a sort of electrical Souk.

"Have you the Acme Pixy pix 545K?"

"No but we do have the 546"

"No. Need the 545"

"546 is better"

"No, it’s just the one you have in stock"

Shop 2

"Have you the Acme Pixy pix 545K?"

"We've got one for the same price which is a different make and model but is better"

"I want the Pixy Pix 545K"

"Why?"

"Because it’s for a child"

Shop 3

"Have you the Acme Pixy Pix 545K?"

"We've got the 546"

"That's not the 545 is it!"

"No"

Shop 4

"Have you the Acme Pixy Pix 545k?"

"Let me have a look on the computer..........we've got the 546 but not the 545. Not seen a 545 in a while. Have you tried Kozykameras down the street?"

Shop 5

"Have you the Acme Pixy Pix 545K?"

"We've got the 546. Don't think they make the 545 any longer".

Defeated I went back to the flat and logged on to the Internet. Was it back in stock?

"Acme Pixy Pix 545K. 7 in stock. Black"

I have ordered one. I have paid for it. I have a reference number for it

Let us hope it arrives from Lapland in time. Go Elves go!