Lat night, whilst tucked up cozily in bed, an enormous marshmallow porcupine with the face of Keith Chegwin came into my house in search of it's primary food source - pubic dandruff. Once inside it rampaged about the kitchen smashing crockery, gorging itself on the abnormal quantities of dried beans we have in the cupboard, and all the while singing the seminal 1998 gay club hard-house dance hit Twisted by Wayne G. After plucking up the courage to go downstairs and confront the beast (obviously at first ensuring I was not littered with pubic dandruff lest I drive it insane with ravenous hunger) I wandered down armed with a crossbow and wearing one of my wife's negliges (not as a disguise - but purely for comfort).
Upon entering the kitchen I discovered the beast wearing one of those naff hypercolor t-shirts popular in the early 90s. Those ones that changed color when you got sweaty - principally letting everyone around you know that either you've spilled something very suspect on your body or are just this color gross. Stacked in front of the beast was a pyramid of captured squirrels - like some sort of horribly disturbing walnut-scented Razzle pile-up. With no concern for my own safety I ran screaming into the room and surprised the monster. As I was about to fire a crossbow bolt dipped in Moosehead (known to be deadly to all Chegwin-faced monsters) the behemoth quickly announced that it had come to deliver two truth's so terrifying that they will rock the very fabric of what is Truth in Western civilization. Curious I listened closely.
The first Truth was that the entire film Capricorn One was actually filmed on the Moon. Oh the irony. The second Truth was that massively shit mockumentary Ghostwatch from 1991 was actually a snuff-film recording of Sarah Greene being killed on live television by Pipes, the pedo-poltergeist. Upon delivering this almighty knowledge the Chegwin-Beast told me that to gauge whether I am indeed The Chosen One - destined to disseminate this news to the world and then be elevated as the savior of Western civilization . To do this he offered me one of two choices. Either I could take the knowledge to my local news team (I assume I would have to persuade them that the inevitable overnight car crash and hyped-up impending megadeath-storm warranted being bumped) to reveal these truths to the world and claim my position and responsibilities as a modern messiah. Or I could keep quiet - bribed by an evening of slap and tickle with Christina Hendricks, Nigella Lawson and Lucy Porter.
You may have gauged at this point (one would hope) that none of this happened (admittedly I may have Googled images of some of the people named at the end). Anyway - the point of all this is that I was disturbingly led to an old blog entry on here from nearly a year ago (this one) after doing a Google search for some random silliness that entered my head for no good reason. And - like an arrogant voyeur I figured I'd have a read to see what kind of crap I used to write about. Then I read a few entries before and after. Ironically at the same time I was listening to Charlie Brooker's Newswipe on Youtube and he goes off one about how annoying it is that the news has now become less about facts and all about how people emotively react to one overblown aspect of a story. That all confirmed that this blog used to be a lot more random and esoteric, but now often meanders into a "what we got up to on our Summer holidays" book report style of thing - with a few knob gags and mentions of what kind of poo my son has had lately thrown in for chuckles. I'm often made very aware that I am - in a blunt Charlie Brookerisms - one of those boring twats who thinks anyone gives a toss about photos and videos of y kids entirely in context. I'm also more acutely aware that if I am offered the chance to click something to see a photo or video of someone else's kids that I'll close that website immediately. Because in it's context it's quite dull. I can't stand "user-generated-content" and at least once a week I'm aware that I have crafted an entire blog that seems to be veering toward it. Worse than that I can't stand those parent blogs where children are either presented as little demonic terrors destroying their parent's lives as massive millstones that they don't really want, or the greatest humans ever born who literally have the sun shining out of their arses.
I like the old style much better. I like random and weird. I've often prided myself on convincing people that they know things about me or have some idea what my opinions on things are. When really they just know some inane random bollocks that I mentioned about a subject and some of the viewpoints that other people have on a topic - but none of my own. Oddly this blog has begun to meander toward a middle ground of me commenting on shit my kids did and whether I think it was weird or not. All of which is to say I'll try to be less, "oh and then we had some soup - which my daughter calls, "poop" which is funnyish - and then we my son said something hilarious - it's almost as if he's got the brain of a two year old." And I'll start going back to the old way - which is building on things that have happened/I thought about and building upon them until I've hit some sort of tenuously related silliness that I just happen to think is funny. Because ultimately that's more interesting to write about and presumably more interesting to read. The ultimate test being - if this blog were a movie it would have been funny and interesting, whereas now it's more interesting and funny as long as you read the first part. I'd rather watch the earlier movie anyway. (To hammer home the point I write this entire post after deleting a boring video entry about how my son appears to be quite good at football).
And if anyone does ever makes a movie about my life I hope it doesn't involve Werner Herzog in any way. Because that means it'll end with me being eaten by my children. And probably soundtracked by professional complainer Eddie Vedder doing some third-rate whining on a ukelele.Although if it is possible to make choices now, I'd like my wife in the movie to be played by Christina Hendricks, Nigella Lawson and Lucy Porter.