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Stanley McHale is a single man rapidly approaching thirty who loves and dreams of the same things he did when he was seventeen. But the band was never formed, the novel never finished, and the ill-chosen career in stand-up comedy is giving him more headaches than headlines. With the self-imposed deadline of his thirtieth birthday to either make an international success of himself or go and work in Woolworths, why not pull yourself up ringside seats for the tragically inevitable descent into mania and psychosis by reading his increasingly inane, pedantic, desperate, harrowing and wretched daily diary. It'll make you feel a whole lot better about yourself.

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October 2006 Archives

Tuesday 31st October 2006

Posted by on October 31, 2006 6:05 PM

Took a stroll around Manchester this morning, and realised my mobile phone was almost completely out of power. It is a Vodaphone phone and so you can take it to any Vodaphone shop and they have to power it up for you. They hate doing this, wasting all their power for free, but they have to do it – so in your face Vodaphone. I’ve done this a few times now when I’ve been caught short without a charger (I mean caught short in terms of battery power, not as in a desperate need for the toilet, Vodaphone don’t let you do that in their shops – trust me, they go mad) and it always gives me a rather pathetic sense of satisfaction to be getting something for nothing, even if it is just a relatively minute amount of electricity. I wonder if there are any people in the world so tight that they purposefully take their phone back to the store they got it from to charge it up, rather than waste their own electricity at home? I bet there are.

It’s a shame it doesn’t work with cars. “Hello, I bought this car from your showroom two days ago, but it seems to be a bit low of fuel now. Could you fill it up for me please?�

Anyway, with the phone getting a delicious lunch of electricity in the Vodaphone shop, I decided to get a bite to eat myself, although being a human I needed food, not electricity, and so I couldn’t eat in the Vodaphone shop but had to find somewhere else. In the future, when humans run on electricity, I think Vodaphone will have to be very wary of people coming into their shops for a free snack under the pretence to wanting their futuristic phone charged. They want to watch that.

Monday 30th October 2006

Posted by on October 30, 2006 5:27 PM

A Global Hangover meeting in Runcorn this afternoon with two guys that can secure us some funding. Tim from Forty Eight drove me down – I wanted him to come along because he knows them and could help answer any questions I was too idiotic to. It seemed to go well, we spoke for about an hour, there are a few forms to fill out now but basically it looks like we can get 40% off our costs due to European funding and there might be some extra cash from Liverpool University. We’ll have to keep our fingers crossed and see what comes of it – but at the moment it looks positive.

Of course it was also a day of me realising we were getting into this whole thing quite seriously now and the further realisation that a crazy dream is slowly becoming a potential reality. The question is; can I have the fortitude and commitment to see it through? The fact is I have to I suppose.

Tim dropped me at Lime Street Station because I had to go over to Manchester to appear as a guest, of sorts, at the end of a comedy competition in Levenshulme. The comedy circuit has a strange sort of sub-circle in Manchester, which is the domain of the ‘open spot’ comics, those who are either just starting out in this silly business or, more frequently, those who have been around for a while but never progressed to the professional arena. All comics have to start by doing their open spots at clubs, which are a kind of audition, and five hundred years ago when I started out it was a natural thing to do because a successful spot, unpaid, would lead to a paid spot at that club, or perhaps a recommendation to another. It’s the best and most natural way of learning the business and working your way up.

But now it seems that these open spots have evolved into a circuit comprised of only these five to ten minute unpaid slots, and comedians – for want of a better word – just seem content to compete with each other in this macro-arena without ever really ever getting beyond it. It seems that there’s a new definition of success, i.e. being the best of the worst.

Sunday 29th October 2006

Posted by on October 29, 2006 3:24 PM

Comedians are impossible to please. Today I would have loved to have just had a roast dinner, catch up with some stuff, have a potter about the flat, but had to go to Newcastle for two (count ‘em) gigs. This was annoying, but then if I didn’t have any work I would be equally frustrated. There can be no easier to please set of individuals than comics. Maybe the people than run Socialist Worker… They’re never happy if you read the posters for their paper. No ruling Government can put a foot right as far as they’re concerned. The idealistic 80’s idiots.

But the drive to Newcastle was fine, once again with Chris Cairns. We had a good laugh on the way up there, talking about the rubbish games we used to play as kids – in particular Subbuteo. Can there be a less accurate version of a sport than the game replicated in Subbuteo? Flicking little footballers about until they are in a position to have a strike at goal and then trying to flick the ball past a goal keeper on a stick (whilst the player itself went flying twenty feet in the air). Well yes, there can, as Chris pointed out. That game would be table cricket. In this, you ‘bowled’ the ball down a drain pipe towards you batsman, who somehow was engineered to strike it somehow, and if the ball rested beneath the feet of a fielder you were out. It had as much in common with a came of cricket as the human DNA structure does with a waistcoat.

We were laughing about the football commentary if football really was played like Subbuteo, “And here’s Beckham, oh and he’s ended up behind the radiator!� and “And this is going to get tricky for West Ham because their defence has just been hoovered up by Mum�, etc, and then had to decide who’s idea it was if either of us were to use it in stand-up. Whilst the idea itself is pretty basic, it could fit into a longer piece about rubbish games and so it’s a tempting tit-bit. It was decided Chris could have it and that’s fine with me because he did suggest most of it.

Saturday 28th October 2006

Posted by on October 28, 2006 2:31 PM

I was watching the brilliant Gillette Soccer Saturday this afternoon, the programme that airs during the afternoon’s football matches but doesn’t show the games, just three ex-Pros watching the matches on monitors and telling you what’s going on. It sounds like the worst programme in the world but is endlessly fascinating and funny. The fact it runs from noon until about 6pm, live, is also an astonishing achievement. And in those six hours you don’t see a ball kicked. It’s essentially a radio show on the TV.

It’s a bit of a boys-own-club, but not in too blokey a way. The ex-pros like Charlie Nicholas, Matt Le Tissier, and Phil ‘The Nose’ Thompson just make fun of each other and have a laugh, whilst the incomparable Jeff Stelling holds the whole thing together. And how. This man is a marvel. He’s the only person to have every football statistic in his head and not be annoying. He’s almost modest about it, and presents with such humour and charm it’s impossible not to like him. He’ll do all his work to camera, and then in the background you might hear Charlie Nicholas scream “Oh! Goal!� but you don’t know which way it’s gone until they go over to him and he explains what’s happening on his monitor. But because the ex-pro’s are nearly always watching a team they used to play for they are incredibly bias – and it’s great to listen to them as, essentially, fans rather than pundits.

There was a good exchange today. Some of the pundits are actually at the matches, and so it cuts over to them for intermittent reports (although they are positioned so you can’t see any of the action on the pitch, only the fans, because they’re not licensed to show matches live). The best is Chris Kamara. Everyone loves Chris. There isn’t a game he can’t be enthusiastic about. He just stares, wide eyed, into the camera breathlessly explaining how Stoke have won a corner. He’s fantastic.

Friday 27th October 2006

Posted by on October 27, 2006 1:13 PM

For the past couple of days I have been carrying around a bunch of files that relate to Global Hangover, and when I woke up this morning I had a very temporary panic when I (in my semi-conscious state) wondered where they were? This fear was soon quashed however when I remembered I had left them at the left luggage facility at Liverpool Lime Street yesterday. I had them with me, but was then invited to the first night of a new bar out on Lark Lane which my friend Graham is running.

Knowing that I am careless and forgetful, I thought it might be best if I took all my documents home with me before heading out, especially as Graham had promised me some demon martinis, but I was running late and so thought I’d investigate how much it would cost to leave them at left luggage over night, safely under lock and key. I was near to the station and so it made sense to at least enquire, and was pleasantly surprised to find out it was £5.50. This was almost exactly the same amount as the cost of a taxi back to mine would have been, and so I slid them across and the man put the papers together in a plastic bag and gave me a slip of paper.

So this was yesterday, the bar was very fine although it has a strange name that I can’t recall which isn’t the best sign, surely it should be memorable even to idiots, and today I got up with a small sense of triumph that I had been cunning enough to leave my precious documents at left luggage and not now be ruing their inevitable disappearance. I suppose it’s a very dubious victory, because most people would not have to pay money to store their things in left luggage because a) they would have taken them home with them before they went out, or b) they would have taken them out with them but had the sense about them to not leave them lying about. But I must accept that I am careless and forgetful and so this was a victory of sorts for me.

Thursday 26th October 2006

Posted by on October 26, 2006 2:53 PM

Met FortyEight, the Global Hangover designers, today and had my first glimpse of the work in progress. Designers use a ‘thought board’, which is basically a collection of sketches and ideas, cut outs and so on, to try and formulate things. I was also shown some designs for the logo, which is a crucial element to the project because it’s obviously how everyone will know us, and I think we’re onto a winner. It looks great, and after I offered some minor alterations I think it’ll be the one we go with. I can see no harm in posting a copy of it up here when we’ve got the finished version.

I was taken out to lunch, which was very kind of them, and we further discussed the project. If I had a strong hunch that this company were the right choice to do this before, then it’s concreted in my mind now. They are continually offering invaluable suggestions and sensible advice. They are also so enthusiastic about it, and seem to be genuinely excited about the project, that it makes things far easier for me. Their ideas are so valuable, and they’re throwing them into the project for free, essentially. When this site does get built, which is still a long way away, then quite a lot of how it looks and operates will be because of them. It would be rubbish if it were only Wade and I putting elements in.

From there it was over to HSBC to open the company bank account. I can’t tell you how excited it made me to have a sheet of paper from the bank with ‘Global Hangover Limited’ at the top. Then of course came the added realisation that this was actually starting to happen, and that it’s not just a big game, and that’s quite nerve wracking. Why can’t I just continue in my zero responsibility non-job that is stand-up?

Wednesday 25th October 2006

Posted by on October 25, 2006 4:27 PM

Perpetual rain all day today. Continual, driving, incessant damp of the most depressing kind. Surely this was God showing his utmost disappointment at me continually trying to chat up young girls yesterday, there can be no other explanation.

Seeing as I can’t be trusted with umbrellas, loosing them within minutes of ownership, I chose to wear a hat today – a trilby. I own a few hats, but don’t wear them out as much as I might, and this is perhaps due to the fact that a gent in a hat immediately stands out, and whilst I don’t mind going against the grain, you are seen to be quite alternative to wear a nice hat (with a suit, say) these days and that is unfortunate. I don’t mind standing out, with a head as huge and round as mine it’s an inevitable part of life, but more often than not I tend to blend in and a hat can cause unwanted attention.

It’s a shocking damnation on our society that a hat, a simple hat, can cause people to shout something at you over the street (although ironically the members of the UK’s burgeoning underclass who are most likely to shout something will be wearing baseball caps themselves) but that’s the way it is. I don’t mind people shouting at me, and so do sometimes wear a hat, but I have to admit it’s an irregular occurrence.

Hats are great. Look at the 40’s and 50’s… A gent’s suit wasn’t compete without a hat. And the more roguish could express their personality by wearing it at an angle. “Angles are attitude!� said Sinatra, referring to the immaculate way he wore his head gear.

So the hat should be part of every and man and woman’s wardrobe, preferably a selection, but we live in crude, useless times and let’s not forget that it was yours truly that was called, when walking down the street wearing a scarf last winter, a “scarf twat� by a couple of youths. A good hat can be asking for trouble behind enemy lines.

Tuesday 24th October 2006

Posted by on October 24, 2006 3:34 PM

Sat on a train this morning from Derby to Crewe I was enjoying the sunny scenery when two teenage girls sat down opposite me. They were very young, probably about fifteen or so, and needless to say I ignored them because any sort of chatting would constitute flirting and therefore make me a sick, sick old man (I didn’t find them attractive, let me make this perfectly clear) but as we approached Stoke On Trent station they were discussing how to kill twenty minutes before they caught their train to Manchester.

As the train slowed towards the station we passed a warehouse with a big sign saying ‘Tile World’. “Let’s go to Tile World for a bit!� one of the girls said, being humorous, and the other girl sarcastically agreed this would be great fun.

“Don’t go today, it’s only good at weekends� I found myself saying to them, out loud, to which they both laughed in a giggly way.

This was the first thing I’d said to them on the whole journey and I suddenly felt awkward that I’d chosen to say something that I considered humorous, which could only have meant I was trying to impress them in some way and make them think I was cool. Was this the case, or was it simply that I was being friendly by commenting on something they said, and it didn’t make any difference if it was a pair of very young girls or an elderly couple? I like to think I would have said “Don’t go today, it’s only good at weekends� if it had been a couple of pensioners sat opposite me, but even if this is the case, it still doesn’t take anything away from the fact I am a man who’s almost thirty making an uninvited comment to young girls.

Perhaps there is a part of every man that can’t resist showing off in front of girls, even if he were to consider it, his random comment might be seen as inappropriate? I think this is probably the case, even though when they got off the train I was glad it was an empty carriage and no-one was looking over at me thinking ‘You sick prat, trying your weak attempts at humour out on young girls. You repulse me.’

Monday 23rd October 2006

Posted by on October 23, 2006 2:55 PM

I felt a little unsteady on my pins standing at Glasgow Central train station waiting around for a train south. It was a heavy old night, heavy old day for that matter, yesterday and its never nice being rung in your hotel room to be told to check out. You’d sell an internal organ for ten more minutes under the duvet.

It would have been a nice feeling to be headed home but one has to work and so it was a trip to Derby, via York. The two O’clock London service was the best bet, and this was quiet and pleasant until it reached Edinburgh and the entire city climbed aboard, trying to find a seat. I know I seem to be constantly surprised by trains being busy, but they do seem to be running at full capacity these days, very much like India, and it’s becoming a more uncomfortable way to travel. Being a weekday I couldn’t splash out on up upgrade to First either, so unable to play out the weekend fantasies of being an executive.

Anyway, the journey south of Edinburgh to Newcastle is one of the most attractive in the country, skirting the dramatic coast, and there are worse ways to spend a Monday afternoon. There was a very middle class family sat next to me, the sort of family where the children call their parents ‘Mark’ and ‘Jane’ (if their parents names are Mark and Jane – calling them that otherwise would be mental) and during the course of the journey the Mum, or Jane, would point out landmarks to the children saying, every time, “remember when we went there with Granny?�. They’d been to an awful lot of places with Granny as it turned out, indeed there seemed to be very few places along the North East coast they’d not been with their fortunate grandparent. It was interesting how their Granny was called ‘Granny’ and not by her Christian name. I think the inappropriate use of first names extended only to the parents, whilst elder members of the family were still called by the appropriate moniker.

Sunday 22nd October 2006

Posted by on October 22, 2006 1:39 AM

I woke up quite refreshed and reasonably early, allowing time to go shopping and buy some new shoes for the wedding this afternoon. I was in two minds about the expense, but the only shoes I had with me, the ones I was wearing, were black leather Chelsea boots, not tie ups. I debated with myself whether it’s okay to wear Chelsea boots with a suit (they are black shoes that rise just above your ankles, not the boots worn during a match by Chelsea footballers) and decided that it would probably be okay, in as much as no-body would think too much the worse of me, but I like things to be done properly and so got a shiny new pair from John Lewis. In the event, when I got dressed for the wedding in my room, I was glad at my decision and felt properly attired. Which is a pleasant feeling.

Glasgow’s West End is magical, and where the cool kids hang out. It costs a fortune to live in the Byres Road area now but it’s always attracted a musical and arty set, drawn by the parks, gardens, alternative culture and beautiful houses. It is undoubtedly where I would live if I moved to Glasgow and indeed many years ago A and I were taking a stroll when we saw a house so perfect we both promised that neither of us were ever allowed to buy it, because it wouldn’t be fair on the other. It’s probably a very expensive house, so I don’t know if either of us will ever be in the position to buy it, but it is lovely (take Observatory Road off Byres Road and it’s the first right by the church, Observatory Crescent perhaps, and it’s number 8). Maybe one day I will be able to spite A forever by living in it. She will be allowed to visit.

But the day wasn’t about being cruel to A, it was about seeing her sister Vaila get married to Ewan. The whole event was held at Oran Mor, which is multi-functional building in a converted church. Downstairs there is a bar, upstairs – via a spiral stone staircase in a tower – you enter the old church and looking up admire the painted ceiling, in blues and gold, with a bar on a raised area at the back, alter at the front, and rows of chairs set out in between. It’s a perfect place for a wedding. We took our seats and turned around to see Vaila, A, and their Mum Elizabeth enter with the accompaniment of a piper and walk down the isle. A was bridesmaid for the day, and all looked lovely.

Saturday 21st October 2006

Posted by on October 21, 2006 12:41 AM

I was standing on a busy train from Manchester to Preston today, when I fell into conversation with a woman travelling to Blackpool, the train’s final destination. I was travelling with my friend Michelle and our conversation with the lady started by us mutually grumbling about how busy the train was, with passengers at the stations we stopped at not being allowed on (much to their annoyance) and how this over crowding could be put down to the fact that trains in the North are always two or three carriages long, some only being a single car. Trains in the South are always much longer.

“The trouble is� said the woman “a lot of people get off at Preston, like you are, but a lot more get on.�

This meant that she was probably going to be standing all the way to Blackpool.

“You see, a lot of hen nights and lads on a weekend away get on, to go to Blackpool. And so when people get off at Preston, a lot more get on.�

She’d made this point twice now, that people get off and others get on, but she then made it a third time a few minutes later, and then a fourth. It seemed to be a simple principal, but she didn’t seem to think we got the concept of people leaving a train, but others boarding, so that the total number of people remained generally the same.

When she explained this again, Michelle, who was sat on a suitcase, was looking through her fingers in frustration. I am made of sterner, and far more sarcastic and patronising stuff, and so I questioned her.

Friday 20th October 2006

Posted by on October 20, 2006 2:57 PM

You might recall back in August I was in Edinburgh and had my bag stolen, loosing my computer, house keys and car keys. You will remember because I bleated on about it like a childish stuck record. Well it’s taken me until today, pathetically, to actually sort the car keys out (it’s just been sat in it’s parking space since then) and this meant a trip over to the Alfa dealership in Warrington.

Seeing as my job basically involves me travelling around the county, ideally by car, it’s bewildering that I’ve not yet got this sorted out. I am the worst in the world at putting things off, but with GH getting set up this has begun to change (hopefully not temporarily) and I’m being slightly more proactive and better at getting things done.

On top of the impracticality of not having a car, I’ve felt sorry and guilty for it, just sat there. Car’s have souls and are like people, and I’ve deserted it. I think when I finally do get a key in the ignition (and probably sort out the flat battery) I’m going to treat it to a good service and a wash. The MOT has also expired. Car’s are a real cash cow, rather like a child, but I do need it – and I love it – so I suppose it’s all worthwhile expense.

Even the new key is expensive. Over one hundred pounds. And that’s for the non-coded one (the chip in the key has to be coded in with the dashboard or some such futuristic nonsense) but to do that they’d need the car in Warrington. And obviously I can’t get it there. So once I get the key in a few day’s time, I’ll have to get another person out to code it on site. It’s one thing after another.

Thursday 19th October 2006

Posted by on October 19, 2006 2:09 PM

Sorry I’ve not updated this in so long, it’s now the 25th and I’ve been away without internet access. Now my job seems to be writing a Blog, for that’s what will occupy the next couple of days. Curse this questionable project – it is a weight around my lazy neck.

I could of course not bother with writing up the days I’ve missed but unfortunately I am mentally ill and have to keep everything complete. This is maybe why my Nintendo DS game said I have a brain age of 74. People in their seventies tend to be very stuck in their ways.

So, what happened in the dim and distant past of the 19th October 2006? When the internet was in it’s infancy and people still believed in witches. Well it was a momentous day for Global Hangover. I paid Online48, the design company, their first payment, which means they can officially start work. This made me feel a little jittery, because now this will either happen, which would be incredible, or it won’t happen and I’ll be severely out of pocket. There’s no messing about now, it’s time to concentrate.

Financially it shouldn’t hit me or any individual too hard because the work that’s being done now, many thousands of pounds worth, is only to take the project up to a level where we can approach the big-boy investors who can provide the cash to launch this properly worldwide. That will cost a minimum of £300,000, probably closer to half a million pounds (which is just scary) and so we need to put together a really impressive presentation in order to achieve this. This is the work that’s currently just started, but I’ve been told that it shouldn’t involve me paying any more personally (and have today’s payment refunded) because there are a couple of channels we can go down to firstly have 40% of the costs paid by European funding, and then the remainder paid by a company called Liverpool Vision, who set up companies on Merseyside. This just means filling out forms and applying but we’ve got a backdoor route in and so we’re confident we can get this.

Wednesday 18th October 2006

Posted by on October 18, 2006 1:25 PM

Everyone’s having a birthday at the moment, selfishly. Either that or getting married. I seem to be making lots of trips to card shops (typically unable to get a pile of cards and stamps in one go and distribute them daily to the post box by my building) and lots of present buying. Then there’s weddings… I’m going to only make friends on the basis on when their birthday is from now on. You don’t need more than twelve friends, nobody does. Have one friend with a birthday in each month, preferably about the same point in each month, so that your card and present buying (plus often the whole thing of going out for a meal or a night on the town) can be done pretty much once every four weeks.

At the moment it’s crazy. If I had a 9-5 job, I couldn’t do it. Every waking moment is buying cards and licking envelopes.

If then I found I was attracted to someone and perhaps thought they might become my girlfriend at some point (or the subject of an advanced stalking campaign) I’d have to find out when their birthday was, then cancel the friendship of whoever it was whose birthday was in that month. Otherwise you’re talking a double birthday, card and present buying, going for a meal month.

If that relationship didn’t work out, or you got a restraining order from the Police, then you’d have to try and get your cancelled friend back to get the whole system regular again. Also, if you have a batch of people who’s birthday it is in October, well, some of them will have to be culled or move their birthday to a different month. Call me authoritarian but…

Same as weddings. Tell them that you’ve got your February, or whenever, wedding booked and they’ll have to move their special day to March or whatever month is free. They will argue that it’s “their� special day, but you should rebuff their preposterous argument with a dismissive wave or your envelope-cut hand.

Tuesday 17th October 2006

Posted by on October 17, 2006 12:42 PM

I am going to Glasgow this weekend for the wedding of A’s sister Vaila to her fiancé Ewan. I am glad she is marrying her fiancé, anything else would be considered poor form in even the most liberal of societies. I am also very glad that two such nice people are getting married and I wont be attending the marriage of two people whom I think unsuited or horrid. I would still attend such a wedding, if only for the reception, but I am going to take extra pleasure in knowing that this one is certainly for keeps.

This will be my second wedding, the first being Monica and Mark’s in September last year (the 9th if you want to relive their beautiful day here in poorly written text) and that one’s worked out fine too. It is clearly a good omen to invite me.

Vaila and Mark have a wedding list at John Lewis and so today I went in there to see if I could access it. It’s all very clever – you go to the top floor where there’s a machine with a touch screen and scrolling through a couple of menus and finding the bride or grooms name will allow you to print the list off. According to the staff, as soon as one item is purchased, it automatically gets deleted from the list so that no two guests buy the same thing. I’m not sure how this works, because if you were about to buy something as I was (I chose to get it in Glasgow instead to save me carrying it up) then how do they know it’s for a wedding and which one? I suppose you have to remember to tell the cashier. I have only just thought of this now and wouldn’t have done had I bought anything. I think it should be clearer for people such as me and I wonder who else has made this oversight and forgotten to tell staff that it should be taken off a list? They will soon be the proud owners of 28 bath robes and 41 identical frying pans to somehow store in their marital home.

Go to Vaila and Ewan’s house for the night after they’re married. Not only will you get a very elaborate (but generally fried) meal you’ll be well dressed in the morning when you wash.

Monday 16th October 2006

Posted by on October 16, 2006 2:11 PM

Today was a long and truly odd one, a shining example of how this crazy non-job really can put you in strange situations.

I got up very early and had breakfast in the hotel in York, having decided to go back to Liverpool and collect my camera for the gig in annoyingly close-to-York Harrogate tonight. I had a feeling it would be worth while, and if the show tonight turns out to be a cracker and I didn’t film it, I’d not enjoy it at all and would probably look back on it with resentment.

I got to York station and found myself waiting for the model railway exhibition to open. There’s a small and attractive looking building which is part of the station proper which houses a model railway shop and a huge working example that you can pay £4 to see. It was 8.50am, and I waited around for it to open at nine, my proper train not being until half past. I love model railways and one day want a house big enough to dedicate one big room or the attic to my own set, in which I would spend hour upon hour. These are my life objectives now: Set up Global Hangover. Get novel published. Release a stand-up DVD. Retire. Build train set in attic.

So back to Liverpool. Pleasant journey, got some Global Hangover sketches done, back to the flat, tried to catch up with this time-wasting Blog a bit (sorry I’ve been behind recently) and then an afternoon train back out to Leeds, with the camera, to try and get a train to Harrogate.

You might be amazed how much I find to boringly moan about train stations, but Leeds really is a nightmare. There are seventeen platforms, but some of them are hidden away in obscure locations, and all are divided into sections, so you get platforms 16a, 16b, 16c, etc. This means there are about 678 possible places for your train to be.

Sunday 15th October 2006

Posted by on October 15, 2006 12:58 PM

I spent most of last night not testing my brain age but booking hotels and train tickets on the internet. I’m away quite a lot over the next couple of weeks and so I thought it might be an idea to be organised, print out all the details, and sort of mini-tour manage myself rather than just stumble from town to town looking for accommodation. I took it one step further and printed out all my train times for various trips, and then put them all into a folder. This feels quite reassuring and I wonder why I’ve not done it before? Perhaps then I was labouring under the impression I was using a 29 year olds brain, which would never be so organised, but us 74 year olds are more wary you know. We like to know what’s what.

And so the first appointment on my list was a show in York tonight. I went to the station and caught my allocated train, the one that was on my print-out. Only just caught it though… You know I always bang on about how hard it is to buy a ticket at Liverpool Lime Street. It’s one of my boring pet peeves. Well today was insane. Huge long queue, only two ticket windows (count ‘em) were open, and the clock was ticking. One young man behind me in the line (they are all young when you’re 74) said to a member of staff who was trying to organise the queue “Are there any ticket machines at this station?� The staff member responded that there were not. They were suddenly discussing my favourite subject: The purposeful lack of ticket machines in this massive railway terminus. So I turned and entered the debate “And are there any plans to ever have ticket machines, ever?�

“No, never� said the man. He said it as if it would be a cold day in hell before they succumbed to the evil Nazi ticket machines that have taken over more sensible railway stations. “No, never.� There was a sort of pride in his voice when he said it, organising some barriers to deal with all the people wanting to buy tickets.

Saturday 14th October 2006

Posted by on October 14, 2006 2:46 PM

I am juvenile. I’ve really surpassed myself this time. I was walking along Lord Street in Liverpool (where all the Lords walk) and passed a shop called Game. It sells computer games. Anyway I got this strange desire to go inside and see what games are like now in the futuristic 21st Century.

I used to play computer games as a child, less so in my teens I think, certainly not in my late teens, and although about four years ago I bought an X-Box as a silly thing to do one Sunday morning when myself and a group of lads thought “Wouldn’t it be great if we could have a computer football tournament� and I disappeared and idiotically reappeared with an X-Box and football game from a shop around the corner, I’ve got no interest in them now. That prank got me immediate kudos at the time but it soon wore off, the bank balance still felt it, and that machine has been lying sadly underneath my TV gathering dust for ages. Can’t remember the last time I switched it on. It was ultimately a waste of money and I should give it to Oxfam or someone. Do they sell X-Boxes? I can’t see them turning it down just because it isn’t a shirt from the 1970s.

So I went into this Game shop. Unfortunately it didn’t sell pheasants and venison, much to my disappointment. Wow – who’s on form today! No, it sold computer games and computer consoles, and I browsed the titles quickly, impressed at the graphics shown off on the back covers. If I could afford to waste the money I’d probably be tempted into buying an X-Box 360 just to play the new football games, which appear photo-realistic, and then get bored of it after a day or two an donating it to Oxfam, only to be turned away because it’s not a 1970’s shirt.

What I would genuinely like is the new flight simulator from Microsoft called Flight Simulator X. I’d like to build (who am I kidding – buy) a computer with the best graphics card in the world in it, then design a room in my house to look like the cockpit of a plane, buy three huge monitors and pretend to be a pilot. For a day. Then take a trip up to Oxfam.

Friday 13th October 2006

Posted by on October 13, 2006 1:46 PM

I’m not sure how Friday the 13th became to be a scary, unlucky, or damned day. Apparently one theory is that there were thirteen people at the Last Supper, including Jesus I suppose, and that was unlucky because… well because I suppose one of them was Judas. If you’re a son of God, it’s unlucky to have someone like Judas around to mess up your plans.

That reminds me of one of the greatest jokes I’ve ever heard; Jesus and his 12 disciples are sat around at the Last Supper. Jesus says “By this time tomorrow, one of you will have betrayed me.� All the disciples are flabbergasted and shake their heads; “But Lord! We love you! We would never betray you!�

But Jesus says “Well I’m Jesus, so I should know these things, and I’m telling you that by this time tomorrow one of you will have betrayed me.�

All the disciples fall quiet and sombre before Paul says “Is it me, Lord?�

And Jesus replies “No Paul, it is not you.�

Eventually John says “Is it me, Lord?�

And Jesus replies “No John, it is not you.�

Then Judas looks around and asks “Is it me, Lord?�

And Jesus, putting on a girly and sarcastic voice, replies “Is it me, Lord?�

Thursday 12th October 2006

Posted by on October 12, 2006 2:20 PM

It’s good having a house guest now and again. You can tap on their door and bring them in tea and orange juice and things like that in the morning. I like playing host sometimes. Also, I’ve always felt slightly guilty about living in a two bedroom flat alone and so I feel I’m utilising it more to its full potential and purpose.

It’s how long people stay though, isn’t it? I’m essentially a live-alone kind of guy, not because nobody wants to live with me, that is not the reason, but because I do enjoy having somewhere to myself and being able to have a bath with the door open, that sort of thing. Mind you, I suppose Michelle was here for several months and that never bothered me. She just had to look away or pretend she was being sick whenever she walked past the bathroom and saw me in the bath. She is very good at pretending to vomit, let me tell you. Very convincing. Quite the actress.

And so anyway, having Wade here is good fun and it will probably become quite a regular arrangement, what with the company being set up and all. On that front, and I know it’s probably tedious to read about but this is my Blog, we had a meeting with web designers Forty Eight today and basically awarded them the design contract. We shook on it anyway. Obviously it would be better to see lots of companies and get lots of quotes but these guys have really impressed both Wade and myself, and so we went with gut instinct. Also, their quote for the job, which does involve quite a lot of design on the site itself, but is basically for putting together a whole pack to take to potential investors, is very reasonable and there’s no way we could get the same quality for less.

Wednesday 11th October 2006

Posted by on October 11, 2006 1:37 AM

Wade arrived on the train from London this afternoon for his first visit to Liverpool. He’s here to have some Global Hangover meetings we’ve arranged and to really get things going.

Our first was with Business Link at 4pm. This is a non-profit organisation that spends European money to help people set up new businesses and to see those businesses through their first couple of years. They also teach young naïve business people who haven’t the foggiest idea what their doing some street smarts. We need them!

We arrived at their Liverpool office at four, checked in at reception (I took enormous pleasure in writing ‘Global Hangover’ in the ‘Company’ column of the visitor book) and immediately there was some confusion. It soon became very apparent that the meeting wasn’t in the Liverpool office at all, but over the water in Birkenhead at a second office. Apparently I knew this. I didn’t even think to ask – I knew they did have a second office because T-A works for Business Link and divides her time between the two, but I somehow assumed it was the Liverpool branch. I’d visualised this meeting, and having been to the Liverpool office before I’d visualised it there. But whatever – we’d messed up even before our first Business Link meeting. We are pathetic and shouldn’t even be allowed to set up a company.

Cursing my stupidity and lack of professionalism, we dived down into James Street train station and one stop later were in Hamilton Square over the water. We went over the water in a tunnel. We went under the water. We went under the river to Birkenhead. T-A picked us up in her car, having left her desk to collect this hapless pair whom Business Link are probably already despairing of.

Tuesday 10th October 2006

Posted by on October 10, 2006 10:41 AM

I met my friend Rachel this evening who was accompanied by a girl called Jo. It turned out that Jo works for Sainsbury’s and it’s her job to stock new stores when they open. She’s just opened a new Sainsbury’s store in Tonbridge, which is where my brother lives. It occurred to me that she can influence what appears in the individual stores and so I asked her if she could get something specific in for my brother, so he could go into the shop and know that it’s only there for him? She confirmed that this was possible.

This is power. This is the sort of power that Kim Jong-Il, North Koreas mental leader, could only dream about in his most crazed delusional moments. I bet he can’t influence what’s in his local shop. Well he can actually, there’s nothing in North Korean shops and that’s entirely down to him, but I bet if a Sainsbury’s did open in North Korea he wouldn’t be allowed to dictate what was in it. Therefore I am more powerful, or rather my brother is, than Kim Jong-Il.

I rang Steve, my bro, and told him this exciting news, and informed him he could pick anything he wanted that isn’t currently in the Tonbridge Sainsbury’s and my contacts and connections could sort it. He is lucky to have a brother like me. He was justifiably excited about this, and told me he’d have to h