Yes, Another Pompous Review

IT'S NOW OVER! I promise this will be my last blog about Britain's Got Talent, well until next year anyway. You may have noticed that this past week, everywhere has been mainly about Britain's Got Talent - even if you went on holiday, you wouldn't get away from it because the world is addicted apparently. Twitter is swamped by comments about it, Facebook is full of supporters creating fan group, and the newspapers are loving it, as well as the news programs which directly follow it and tell us what happened all over again.

Let's just quickly run through the acts that made it into the final. Flawless, a dance group, which were very similar to Diversity in the fact both groups were made of dancers from different minorities. There was Aidan Davis, who was also a dancer, who was compared to being the next Justin Timberlake, and he was good. Also there was another dance duo, called Stavros Flatley who were a Greek father and son group, who do Irish dancing. I say Irish dancing, all they seemed to do was prance around the stage with their tops off - their influence looked to be Omid Djalili. So, that's 4 dance acts.
We had Shaheen Jafargholi, which isn't just a load of letters stuck together, it is actually his name, and for some reason my spell checker doesn't like it. Anyway, he was a young singing boy, who sung some songs. We had 2 Grand, who are a Grandfather/Granddaughter singing act, who sung together quite well, seeming to favour the more operatic songs. As did Hollie Steel, the blabber mouth as The Sun called her Saturday, who cried in the Semi-Finals because she got nervous. It's not her fault. She didn't want to sing, and when her mother pushed her on stage in that ballerina costume, it really hurt. Shaun Smith was singer too, and indeed, my favourite singer of the lot as he was singing my kind of songs. We also had Susan Boyle, who we all know as that Scottish thing. Her dress for the final made her look like a mermaid - who had eaten all the fish in the ocean. So that's 5 singing acts.
The last act was Julian Smith, who seems to only know how to play two songs, but managed to bluff his way to the final. He was a rather good saxophone player, and was the only saxophone player in the finals. However, in the semi-finals there was a bloke who could make the sound of a saxophone for the sake of it, but he didn't make it to the final surprisingly.
So going by those statistics, that means the world now thinks that 40% of us can dance, 50% sing and the other 10% all go around playing the saxophone. Not exactly a huge range of talent we seem to have here by the looks of it. One thing I noticed is that I don't remember seeing one comedian this year, which means we're all serious twerps as well. None of us can act either because no actors got into the semi finals. There were no painters, meaning we must all live dull lives. There were no writers, which is a talent, all be it a rather dull one to watch. There was a group of knitters, but they weren't entertaining enough and resulting in them being booed off. Britain has more talent to offer than singers, dancers and a saxophone player - surely.

I must say though, that I am rather proud of you lot. Julian Smith, the saxophone player came third. Susan Boyle, the new Jade Goody as far as I'm concerned came second and Diversity, the dance act who I was supporting to win, actually won - I picked a winner. You didn't listen to The Sun tell 'subtly' tell you to vote for Susan Boyle because she was the best (which she wasn't), you actually grew a backbone and voted for the talent in the competition - Diversity.
Although now, it seems we must have slipped into a parallel universe, because this was bad, according to Piers Morgan's posy, which is more commonly known as 'The Media'. The headlines have included things such as 'Britain's Got Talent Upset'. Yes, it seems that the public went mad, and voted for the wrong person last night - how could Diversity possibly win. Potato face was obviously the best act... The media are not happy today. It's almost as bad as Diana dying. You see the media are always right. Either they predicted something right and boast about it, or they were right, and everyone else was wrong. At the moment, it's the latter.
This is all despite the fact that we have found out that Susan Boyle is set to make over £8millon through her Internet success, so unfortunately, this isn't the last we have heard of her, and there is some more mileage for the media to push her through. I'm expecting Diversity to perform in front of the Queen, and unless Prince Charles makes a racist remake towards them, be forgotten about and cast to metaphorical waste bin of reality TV, were David Van Day, Jade Goody and Michael Barrymore now rest, because they have been overshadowed by a huge Boyle.

But despite all that, let me say once again to you - the general public; Thank-you for not giving Susan Boyle a majority of the votes on the Britain's Got Talent final. Don't get used to it though, it won't be long before you all do something stupid and I have to write another blog calling you all idiots, yet again.

Toodles m’dearys
xXXx

The Past Seven Weeks Have Just Flown By...

I know I've already done a Britain's Got Talent blog, but another is deserved, because every time Piers Morgan came on the screen and said some crap, I just had 'Twat' pop up in bright, red, flashing lights - and for the record, I believe that Mr Methane (the farting guy) taught Piers Morgan to talk out of his arse...

I am intrigued as to what happened to Ant & Dec last night, because they didn’t seem to be on top form – well Ant wasn’t. He’s look for the evening seemed to be a bowling pin, with freshly painted black hair. His features also seem to be slipping further down his face. Dec seemed to be carrying him really, as well as the show, and it’s not a usual thing for me not to say positive things about Ant & Dec.

Something else which is annoying me is the amount of singing on Britain's Got Talent, and that is including Susan Boyle, because that's what 'The X Factor' is for, for British singing talent. Britain's Got Talent should be used as a way to celebrate the 'Diversity' (See what I done there...) of talent that we have here in Britain, from dancing groups, to violin players, to complete and utter freaks, with unusually large earlobes. I shall comment on the acts from the first of the semi finals, with my cynical view.

So, Diversity were the opening act for the Semi-Finals, and I must say, the best act of the night, and luckily they got through, and it must be the first time I agreed with Piers Morgan on something, but I'll try not to make it a regular occurrence, otherwise I may have to shoot myself with a gun loaded with shame. I like these street dance acts; I think they are really clever, because I could never do that, and at the end of their performance, with them incorporating people picking up the phone and voting for them in their act, was pretty darn clever choreography.

We had Natalie, a 10 year old (I think) who had quite a mature voice for someone her age, and she was good. The one thing I don't like about all these child singing acts is the fact they are children, and I'm against them being shoved in front of the camera by their parents and forced to sing to an audience otherwise they don't get their meal served on their favourite plate. I believe that if they are good when they are young, they will be excellent when they are older, so why can't they wait until they're sixteen and shove them on X-Factor. Luckily, she didn't get through - however she did cry live on telly, but not to worry, it was past her bed time.

We then had time for some surreal 'dancing', with Darth Jackson coming onto the stage, with a trademark white glove. It was a piece of very basic choreographed danced, with it really only involving him and some other people in costume moving across the stage. We also had SueSon, who was a violin player. Nothing out of the ordinary, she wasn't playing whilst eating fire, or playing with a venomous snake, she was just playing a violin - something rather a lot of people can do these days - so nothing that special. After her performance though, Simon Cowell said ''I'd sacrifice friendship over success any day", which I think is a good quote, which sums him up really and that is the reason for his success – no friends.

For Britain's Got Imported Talent - The Belly Dancer impressed the two guys with her assets, but Amanda buzzed not because she was jealous of her body, but because she was concerned about the Queen not appreciating Charles and her boys slobbering over the sight of her. I'm assuming she wasn't talking about Prince Andrew though... All I can say is that I'm glad there was a desk in front of Simon and Piers.

For some comic relief, in the form of the village people and another dance act, we had 'Faces of Dance', in which they put on faces of famous people, while dancing - this time to 'In The Navy'. First we had the pleasure of seeing Obama and Gordon dancing, summing up Britain and America's relationship, which was then strangely followed by The Queen and Prince Phillip dancing along. Next up was Ant and Dec, in which the camera turned to the real ones laughing, and then onwards to the faces of Jordan and Peter for some satirical dancing as I liked to call it. Last we had Simon and... Well Simon, and another Simon, and another and another, and in fact the stage then became infested with Simon Cowell's, dancing with their tops off.
The reactions from the judges involved Piers being less smug, because he wasn't included and made 'jokes' showing his jealousy, then Amanda who was dribbling more than what the other two did around the belly dancer, and making many sexual innuendo's because they had a six pack. Then Simon Cowell was just very big faced... Literally.

We also had a guy called Mick Hell and his fiancée, who’s chosen backing music was Marilyn Manson - Tainted Love, which I think perfectly described their relationship. He was basically a guy who stuck a drill up his nose, held an axe between his legs using his ear lobes, and took a chainsaw to his fiancée who was yielding a cucumber. I can only assume he was trying to kill her so he didn't have to marry the women who looked like she had been sacked from being Santa's Lil Helper because she kept putting drugs in the toy trains. In an attempt to be funny though, Mr Twat said 'Can you use the chainsaw on Simon', but luckily the audience didn't laugh, so he was quickly put in his place.

The final act was Susan Boyle, who did get through to the finals because of YOU, the British public, doing exactly what the media told you to do – yet again. You all voted for her because the media keep shoving her in your faces so much you've actually grown to 'like' her and feel sympathy for the confident bitch. The media attention she's got from both sides of the Atlantic is pathetic, but now she has too much confidence. Personally I think her and Piers should run off together because they are obviously perfectly suited, and he resorted to claiming that she was the saviour of the world, spreading hope to 58 million computer screens. Twat.
Anyway, within the first 5 seconds she went off key twice, but I must say she made a good recovery, but she was still a disappointment. And she does look terrible. If you thought Paul Potts was bad, you haven't seen anything. I would describe her look as a potato with the roots as hair and two slugs for eyebrows. At one point, the camera angle made it look like she had light shinning out of her arse... Or was it her face... It is so hard to tell. And when Ant & Dec announced she was the winner, she done the chicken dance across the stage and continuously thrust her hips at Piers. Not a pretty sight.

I really do not like Piers Morgan, and as you may have guessed, I'm not exactly a fan of Susan Boyle. I believe she is my replacement for Jade Goody. She has made it big just because she has a big mouth and because she was on a reality show, which she is more than likely going to win - unfortunately. I look forward to a future where my blogs will be less about dead reality TV stars, and more about reality stars which take form as a potato.

But Declan Donnelly promised us another semi tomorrow night. The dirty boy.
Toodles m’dearys
xXXx

Anyone Else Got Some Dirty Laundry To Wash Publicly In The Streets?

I know I'm not the first person to realise this and say this, and I very much doubt I will be the last person, but celebrities seem to only have arguments in the gossip magazines, and like I've said before, the news on the telly is very good on reporting this arguments, with the latest example being Katie (Jordan) Price and Peter (Insania) Andre.

Regular readers of my blogs (Hello Chris), will be aware that I'm not exactly a fan of this whole 'celebrity' culture that we seem to be going through, and Jade Goody is the image of everything I hate about the gossip magazines, and the tabloid papers - oh and the broadsheets, the news on the telly, Internet and Radio, and people who talk/read about it, even though that does include a vast majority of my friends - but not everyone is perfect. Every magazine is full of celebrities saying how they lost weight by not eating lots of chocolate, describing all the sordid details of a celebrity breakup or exclusives on things I don't care about, like peoples weddings... Or funerals for that matter.

Another thing that I don't particularly care for in these kinds of magazines is the 'real-life' stories. The women who found out she had married a sloth, after thinking her husband of 4 years was just really hairy and lazy, or maybe the man who gets an erection when eating a ham sandwich, or maybe the women who opened the boot of her car and found her boyfriend and best friend playing chess together, or maybe the women who has amnesia and thought she had killed her husband, but later found out it was her dead dog she buried, or possibly the women who found out her goldfish could pleasure her after a 'slippery' accident. It's all just rubbish, and how people can find pleasure in them I will never know. The only way in which I get pleasure in them is the satisfactory wipe on my bottom after a visit to the loo.

Today my friend brought a copy of 'Okay' magazine, and there was at least 20 pages covering the history of Jordan and Peter's relationship. 20 PAGES! The first few pages were smothered in pictures with Jordan wearing a low-cut top believe it or not, and every page she seemed to change her opinion. One page she was so upset about Peter leaving, the next she saying that Peter was inappropriate for her, the next she was distraught, then the next page may as well been covered in the words such as 'C**t', 'Prick' and 'T**t'. There were numerous images of them together in the jungle, with him caressing her breast, then images of their wedding, then them renewing their vows and so. They even resulted in editing some images, with one of them being a tortoise and a heir with their heads on, and another with Jordan, but with the head of Danger Mouse. I never actually read it, and maybe if I did, I would know the point, but I'm one of these people who think that ignorance is bliss when it comes to the word ‘celebrity’.

Also, in the same magazine, Jordan is a columnist - as an agony aunt, in which each letter begins with 'Dear Jordan'. These agony aunt columns are a feature of all magazines. A majority of the problems are all from the plain ignorant, asking about underage sex, or whether size matters, or maybe people confessing they're having an affair with two men, and are just gloating about it. The person, usually a female, will give a sympathetic answer, dropping in one of their past experiences, and I guess with Jordan having a lot of past experiences in these matters, she is perfect. These I have to admit are entertaining to read, but then so is junk mail telling you about some gobbledegook you don't care about, and end up laughing about as you put it in the recycling box.

Another regular feature in pretty much all magazines is a trees worth of images of 'affordable' clothes and fashion tips, from a woman whose best friend is Photoshop. That buying this mascara will make you look pretty, although the image contains fake eye-lashes. Maybe this top from Next will be the perfect way to look exactly like your idol. It's full of crap, which I think makes a lot of women feel bad about themselves. There are articles though which also make men like myself, feel pretty darn bad about themselves, besides the fact I hate these magazines.
A regular thing which can be found in one these glossy gossip magazines is something called 'Torso of the Week', in which women turn to and they feel there insides warm up at the sight of someone, not much older than me, with a body 'you'd just die for'. Now, the only way I could be 'Torso of the Week' is if I join Weight Watchers and they do a 'Torso of the Week' to boost moral within the group. I am not what teenagers call 'fit', and I never have been called it, and I doubt I ever will really, but that doesn't bother me. I find that exhibiting torsos on weekly bases to be degrading to men frankly, and also puts a lot of pressure onto men to look good.

Aside from these magazines helping me reach the depths of self pity every time my friends read them, these magazines are just complete and utter rubbish. I have never found how people find them entertaining, but then I have never fully understood the word 'celebrity'. All Jade Goody is famous for, is being selected by the people who choose the contestants of Big Brother because she would be a good catalyst for arguments and drama within the house. That's all. All that Katie Price is famous for is having breast implants then showing off the results at every opportunity. I would think these kinds of magazines were the work of the devil if I was a religious person.

The names are another thing that annoy me. They are just simple words such as; Okay, Heat, Hello, Starz and so on. I had the idea of naming one 'Laundrette' because that's where people go publicly wash the dirty little secrets, like a laundrette, but my friend pointed out it has too many syllables, which is right. But please, someone, tell me the point. I really do not get the point on wasting that amount of money. Why don't you save up the money you would spend for a few weeks, then buy yourself a nice book, or maybe just go and do something creative, just stop funding people like Piers Morgan. They don't deserve it, the same way no-one deserves to have their brains stuffed full of completely useless facts, which are only useful for conversations by the water cooler. No-one is forcing you to have a conversation every time you go and get some cool water.

Anyway, I must stop now otherwise I will get too angry...
So Toodles M'dearys
xXXx

And On That Bombshell...

Some say, that Insurance is so expensive that people are starting to park their cars in their front rooms, and saying it's parked in a garage; others say that if you added the Stig to your policy, you'd get free breakdown cover - All I know, is that Insurance is bloody expensive, especially for the first time driver.

As I'm typing this, Churchill are preparing to drain my account of nearly £1,800 for my car insurance, on a 1 litre Nissan Mirca, just because I'm a male teen. If you've ever watched 'Police, Camera, Action' or 'Traffic Cops', the voice over person will always says about reckless male teen drivers, which stereotypes every teenage boy with a car as someone who's going to drive over fields to avoid the police, race around a car park, or go 31 MPH in a 30MPH zone. I'm not one of these kind of teenagers who testosterone is so high I punch my best friend in the face because he touched my hair or want to prove myself as a man so much that I've slept with every girl I've ever looked at (mainly that's more to do with the fact I'm not as 'aesthetically pleasing' as most, but that's not the point I was trying to make). I'm not exactly a stereotypical teenage boy.

I am now 17 in 9 days, which also is the day I have my first driving lesson booked, so as you can tell, I'm quite eager to start driving considering I've got a car and insured it already. But my car only cost me £800, so the insurance is nearly a thousand pound more, which is quite ridiculous. After a year’s driving, assuming you haven't crashed your car or been convicted, the insurance is suppose to drop dramatically, so you're only paying this ridiculous price once. But bloody hell, that's nearly enough to make me catch the bus every day, so I leaved a 'greener' footprint behind me.

There are lots of blogs on the Internet, written by people who are also 17/18 and have brought car insurance, but the one thing I've noticed, is that no two people are the same. Just because Bob in Swansea got cheap car insurance with 'Auto Direct', doesn't mean I will in Canterbury, because your postcode is the most important bit. Me personally, I found both Churchill and Direct Line to be the cheapest, but Churchill was the best value for money. The only way you can find cheap car insurance isn't to ask people who was the cheapest insurer for them, you have to spend hours, maybe even days going through every insurance company and getting quotes on the Internet and on the phone. Also, I've found it's a great way to learn your registration number, as I now know mine off by heart because of the amount of times I've typed it.

I have some pieces of advice to anyone considering buying a car, learning to drive and insuring the car. The first one is to make sure you don't buy your favourite car. Chances are your favourite car is too big. For example, my favourite cars would be the Ford Focus or Fiat Punto, but the engine size on both is too big for someone who is learning to drive/just passed their test, because there is no way (unless you were born of a women who has slept with Richard Branson to Max Mosley) that you would be able to afford the car or the insurance. I own an orange Nissan Micra for God sake - as you can probably guess, it wasn't exactly my first choice. But no-one’s forcing me to keep forever, in fact in two years time it will be 10 years old, so the government will tell me that I could trade it in and get £2,000 off a brand new car. There are lots of problems with that new Government scheme, but that's a blog for another day.

Another piece of advice is to make sure you put someone else on your insurance policy. You Father or Mother favourably, because it will just make learning to drive a lot more simple and give more flexibility to when you can learn to drive. I would strongly advise though that you learn to drive with an instructor and not your Father, because going on how well my friends have done, the ones who have gone with an instructor have passed quicker, and haven't fallen out with their Father.

I suppose you could call this my advice blog to anyone who is about to start driving and in the process of buying a car. My advice would be to make sure you check every insurance company - including Churchill - OO YESH!
Just think that if I can dispense this amount of information before I'm 17, I'm either well informed - or wrong...

So, on that bombshell, it's time to end.Toodles m'dearys
xXXx

And by the way, normal service with cynical blogs will return shortly.

Stressed Backwards Spells Desserts Did You Know...

It seems like I've been eating too many doughnuts, biscuits, pafita rolls, muffins and other such delicious desserts, as they are obviously the cause of my recent (but now decreasing) stress levels. I did think that it may be due to it being the time of year when the exams are looming and coursework deadlines are nearing - but no, it's because of my sweet tooth. Actually, that's a ridiculous theory. Fine, my stress was caused by school related matters...

Even though Photography sounds like an easy subject and is considered by most to be a 'Doss' lesson, it's actually far from it, and I think has been a main source of my stress in the past few days - trying to get it all finished before the deadline. Waiting for the printer to print out my images in between it's hissy fits and tearing up tissue paper to make my folder look pretty. It's contributed I believe. Is there more of a manly experience than tearing up tissue paper I ask myself?
With rushing to stick down all my ideas in the form of images and writing about it, whilst still going to school and revising, it doesn't take long for one to have a mini breakdown, which consisted of a few tears and a nose bleed. All my photography is now done, albeit handed in two days late, and thus the reason for my stress levels decreasing.

Even though I have 2 exams remaining to conquer, they don't stress me the slightest bit, when technically they should, because they are stressing everyone else. Stress of any type is really uncommon for me though, because I am one these people who takes everything in their stride, and lets nothing bother them. Whereas everyone around gets worked up about exams, and the night before, revise so much that they forget what their name is and write the wrong one on the exam paper, I don't. I am always quietly confident, and exams have never stressed me, and I don't expect they ever will. The way I see it though, is that we need to start playing Enya in exams, which will hopefully relax everyone and hopefully the performance of pupils may increase... Or decrease if they all fall asleep.

I am in no way saying though that I've been more stressed than anyone else, because it's far from that. There are people in my school who in the past week have had to redo parts of their coursework, do multiple drama performance - one of which is marked by an examiner, and doing an English exam. Now that is what I call stress. I could get all satirical at this point and mention how all the MP's are stressed in case The Times newspaper uncovers that they too have been putting down silly expense claims. Maybe one of them put an expense in for a shredder, which they then used to shred all evidence of their expenses. Although, none of them would do that, would they?

I expect Gordon Brown has too been under a lot of stress the past few - years I suppose you'd say, with him being just as unpopular as every other MP in the country at the moment, although still remaining just above Piers Morgan in the popularity polls. Should he sack every cabinet member so only he is left? Should he himself resign? Should he call a general election and call for his own suicide too? Should he just keep quiet for a few weeks and hope it all blows over? Should he try and catch Swine Flu and gain the sympathy vote? These are all questions he has to ask himself, and there is no doubt about it, he must under rather a lot of stress. Maybe Enya should become the new speaker of the House of Commons, and every time it gets a bit heated she breaks into spontaneous 'singing'.

You can tell how stressed I am now though by the fact instead of spending my long weekend revising exams and what not, I spend the time watching Eurovision, watching 'Not The Nine O'Clock News' on DVD, writing and planning multiple blogs, sorting out other peoples love lives and many other things that don't include revision of any form. I've even been slowly munching my way through my last Easter Egg. I am glad that I'm no longer stressed, but I always feel guilty when I'm not stressed, and everyone around me is... Everyone around me has patches of baldness where they've been tearing their hair out, but I still have my beautiful, golden locks, metaphorically anyway, but I do have lovely hair.

Anyway, Toodles m’dearys
xXXx

That Would Have Made Terry Wogan So Proud...

This is very strange - there are people moaning that we only came fifth, when the past previous years we've been lucky to make it into the top 20. For example, when we got the first 10 points, that was a magical experience for every Britain watching. We're only used to getting the odd point here and there. By the end though, I think we got annoyed with the countries that only gave us 3 points.

The song itself in my opinion was a load of rubbish, and how we came fifth I don't know... Andrew Lloyd Webber must have scared people into voting, thinking he was the reincarnation of a piano playing Dracula. The song as we've been reminded many-a-time in the past few months, was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber, and because of this, the song had a very musical feel to it, which I think was inappropriate for the Eurovision Song Contest. Her performance wasn't exactly the best, with her voice wavering in and out of pitch as well. I am quite aware that she done a better job than I could do, but then I'm trying to sing.

Compared to other years though, the song was brilliant. Our bad run of music started with Gemini, the duo who deafened half of Europe and put the other half off cheese for while (because it was so cheesy). We've also had 'Daz' who got a bunch of girls dressed in kinky school outfits, and performed a 'song' about teenage life, which wasn't exactly our proudest moment. Last year, we called on X-Factor runner-up, Andy Abraham who didn't set out to be cheesy, but was still extremely awful.

Looking at some of the other countries, there were a lot of depressing songs, but there was also a few happy ones with a beat. Azerbaijan (which to me sounds like a spell or something Tommy copper may have said) had a song which had a Spanish feel to it, and was quite a happy song. Turkey went back to their roots with a singing belly dancer, which also was quite a happy song. The Germans, well they whipped out a gay, tap-dancing German who sang a song with a 1950's feel, but it was a surprise that it was Germany who put the gay into this year’s Eurovision.
Denmark was possibly my favourite song out of the lot, which was a song written by Ronan Keating, and was performed by someone who was trying to be Ronan Keating. My friend however thinks Brinck (That's his name) done a better job than Ronan Keating, purely on the bases that he was fitter... I prefer Ronan myself, it's just something about the Irish accent that arouses me, maybe that’s why I missed Terry, but enough of my deep, person, disturbing secrets.

Now, I'll talk about the winner of the glass microphone, Norway. To me he looked like Norway's answer to Zac Efron, but he borrowed Susan Boyle's eyebrows. His song I thought was very good and I'm glad it won because not only was he a good singer, the song was extremely catchy, and a lovely happy beat to it AND he played the violin while singing about love... This is the reason why I am extremely pleased with this year’s Eurovision. Yes, there was a slight bit of political voting, which you'll never be able to stop, but a vast majority was about the songs, which is brilliant, and I bet Terry Wogan is kicking himself for decided to resign live on air last year.

Hoping that Terry Wogan didn't have a heart attack at our performance coming fifth with something around the region of 170 points, I hope he comes back and does it next year, because Graham Norton is a lot to be desired. I will admit that I did laugh on quite a few occasions about something he said during his commentary, but it didn't have the right Irish feel. I missed Terry Wogan. I like Terry, although I never listen to him on the radio, or watch points of view, but the two occasions I did see/hear him a year were quite good. Eurovision and Children in Need were the only times he was allowed to be witnessed by me, but now I'm left only with Children in Need. So, on the extreme off chance that he may read this, Please come back Terry, we missed you!!

So after that, unusually positive blog from me, I shall leave you for now, but don't go far, as I may grace you with another blog very soon...
Toodles m’dearys
xXXx

Since When Do Living Statue's Sneeze?

I forgot to mention this in my previous blog and it was quite a funny thing to see, so it really needs to be said - today in Canterbury I saw a living statue. That's nothing unusual really; you see them where ever you go really, except most of them don't have Swine Flu...

I walked past a bloke, painted in silver and standing on a box, incredibly still and he did look really good. I'm not one for giving money to beggars; in fact I am against it. Why don't they just go and get a job like normal folk? Anyway, that's not really that important at the moment. As he was really good though, and I had some lose change in my pocket, I thought that I would go over and give it to him. I didn't in the end, and I shall tell you why...

As I began to walk towards him, he began to have a sneezing fit, and I stopped walking towards him - a rule that I have is to not be near someone I don't know, who is sneezing and could possibly have mental problems. That ruined it for me - since when have statues sneezed - living or cemented. Then, everyone around him stopped to have a look at how this idiot would recover his act, and what did he do?

Yes, he got a tissue out of his pocket, and blew his nose. It was at that point I, and numerous other people I noticed, put their money back in their pockets. He then put his tissue away, apologised to his increasing audience and attempted to shake hands with a little girl - after he has been sneezing.

Swine Flu is only passed person-to-person because of idiots like him who have no idea what the word 'hygiene' means or the words 'Get A Job' it seems. His crowd slowly dispersed, and he carried on as if nothing has happened. So, if you hear about Swine Flu in Canterbury, you can blame the silver statue standing outside Lloyds bank...

Now it's time for me to go to bed so I can awake again tomorrow for another busy day - OH THE JOY.
Toodles m'dearys
xXXx

Are You Ready, Are Your Ready For This, Are You Hanging On The Edge Of Your Seat...

This is the first blog in which I've talked about my day, which can mean either one of two things - Today has been extra ordinarily brilliant, or pretty bad - but today ticks both boxes... I have spent the entire day listening to Queen (And I still am) because I have a lot of Queen Songs which haven't been listened to for ages. So the background music for my day has been pretty darn good.

I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, because at 2 in the morning I was chasing a spider around my room, he was a big fellow, but he was also a quick little bugger. It makes me feel guilty that I killed him with one of my shoes now, because he would have been a great participant of the London 2012 spider Olympics. Nether-the-less, I saw him last week and lost him, so I refused to lose him again. Took me ages to get to sleep after, so I woke up in a pretty bad mood - and from there the day has progressed (like normal days really. You wake up, and the day progresses from there - nothing unusual - except I was in a particularly bad mood, like I have previously mentioned).

First lesson was Photography. I like photography, and in fact (excluding some of the company), it is probably my favourite lesson. The bad thing about photography, is you have to carry your folders everywhere, and at the moment I am carrying 3 folders around, so after a day of walking in the sun (which the next paragraph will be about), my hands are very, very sore - so my hands at the moment are not as smooth as normal.

Walking in the sun is a pain - especially when you hadn't planned to. My plan was to bus into town from my photography lesson, as the school where my lesson is literarily miles away from the high street, which is only the half way point to where my afternoon lesson of English is held. But knowing my luck, I didn't just miss one bus - I missed two. So I had to walk a fair distance, whilst lugging around three photography sketch books.

Me not catching a bus into town and walking instead, meant I was half hour late to meet my Nan, Aunt and various other people who mysteriously know my name, in a coffee shop in Canterbury, which meant I had no time for an energy boost of a drink, as I walked my (partially sighted) Nan to her pick-up point. This was my good deed of the day. Every day needs one, even if it's just letting a marathon running spider live a little longer, and seeing as I didn't do that, walking my Nan was the next best option.

After putting her into the car and waving her goodbye, I walked back into town to do a few things I needed to do, which included a trip to the bank so I could bank a cheque I've been holding onto for a few weeks. A trip to the bank, at lunchtime, means standing in cue for long periods of time - whilst holding heavy sketch books. After 25 minutes in the cue, it was my turn, and I was out within minutes afterwards. During my time the cue though, I decided that going to the bank is very much like participating in bad British quiz show, hosted by Michael Barrymore and Bruce Forsyth. I would go into detail, but this is now an idea for a sketch, which I am going to develop, so I shall enlighten you when the idea is developed - maybe.

Out the bank, get a few more things done, whilst still carrying these sketchbooks, which at this point seemed to be corroding my hand, and I began to walk down the town, to my next destination - school. If only it was that simple. As everyone is aware when walking through a high street, you always get people wanting to stop and chat to you, to make you feel guilty about how lucky you have life because African kids are dying, and try to get you to give them money - these are what I believe are called 'Charity Spokespeople'. Well, I got metaphorically tackled by one and had a good ten minute chat with a woman wearing a UNICEF jumper...

I will admit, she wasn't a great spokeswoman for them as discussions included the weather, talking about photography (because she saw my heavy folder), University life and her finger nails - before we got onto a brief discussion concerning these dying children. By me giving them 69p a week, I could give a child a vaccination apparently. I didn't give my card details, but I did walk away, feeling rather guilty for still being alive and not giving her some money - but at least I didn't bump into the Gypsy Women who sticks a heather up my nose and demands a pound for it.

After that, I sat in Westgate gardens and ate a sandwich that I had brought from Tesco's while watching the ducks play in the water; Chinese people take pictures of each other and builders the other side of the river, eating their lunches. It was at that point when I got my phone out and began to Tweet. After that, I went to school, and done hardly anything in English because I was tired and warn out, and that's how the rest of the day has been - pointless. Up until this moment in time where I am nearing the end of my blog.

That was my 'brief' account of my day, my first blog which documents 'A Day In The Life Of' and I expect it will be my last blog which does so. It feel a little better, after getting all of that off my chest, so I would recommend it to anyone who is considering going to therapy soon - just write a blog which hardly anyone will read.

So, that's the end, which leaves me with only one thing to say...
Toodles m'dearys.
xXXx

Surely If Britain Had Talent, We Would Have Found It By Now

In my opinion, I hate to love Britain's Got Talent because it annoys me with some of the people that get through with a lack of talent, but I love to laugh at the stupidity of these people who think they have talent and Ant and Dec mocking them and trying not to laugh.

My definition of talent is being able to do something remarkable which not a lot of people can do. An example is acting, however any moron can act on the West End as long as they've been on reality telly, which means the people that do go to university who can act incredibly well, are shunned for the more known names. Singing is another example, but then anyone can record a CD and sell it, as long as they have access to some form of recording equipment and can 'mix some tunes', meaning people who can play multiple instruments and sing rather well, are in the shadow of these 'bad boys from Peckham'.

Talent on series 3 of Britain's Got Talent has included people skipping, whistling, farting with their hands, playing a tune through their nose, a so-called 'living saxophone', knitting and many more things that wouldn't even be worthy of a travelling freak show, or maybe that is what Britain's Got Talent has become... If they are considered talents, then I should go and join the travelling freak show too, because I can wiggle both my nose and ears - AT THE SAME TIME! It's a good party trick to show to a bunch of drunken people, that's all I'm saying.

As if an hour a week, for 6 weeks a year isn't enough, you can watch Britain's Got More Talent straight after on ITV 2 for another hour of 'talent' hosted by magician and pantomime star - Stephen Mulhern. For the Piers Morgan fans, should any exist, he does a lot more talking and general twatishness where he thinks he is hilarious and 'bloody brilliant'. A Good quote from Charlie Brooker this week’s referred to him as 'ShitSlug O' Ballbags', it bears no importance to this blog, but I just liked to mention it. Anyway, you could say that the ITV 2 counterpart acts more as a behind-the-scenes special, in where I sit and weep for the humanity, whether it is through Swine Flu or lack of culture in their brains.

The media have been constantly focused on the Susan Boyle from Bonny Scotland the last few weeks, and it has been mainly focused on her looks and the fact she hasn't been kissed. She got her hair done, and the media are there to take pictures of her new make-over. The media have even gone down every avenue to try and prove that she has been kissed, so it was their day when someone came along with footage of her being snogged by Michael Barrymore - one of my childhood heroes. Susan Boyle is considered the ugliest surprise since Paul Potts.

Speaking of Paul Potts, where is he now? He done the royal variety two years ago, got his teeth done and released a number one selling album and hasn't been seen since. Maybe he's gone back to working at Carphone Warehouse. And as for George Samson, where is he now? He done the royal variety show a year ago, released a dance DVD and is now probably working in McDonalds after school. It seems for a short lived career, Britain's Got Talent is the show for you, and if you make Amanda Holden tingle, you're going to win apparently.

Personally, I think that Britain's Got Talent is the metaphorical equivalent to Marmite; you either love it, or hate or in my case, hate to love it. It's disastrously awful, and yet it's the most popular show on Telly at the moment, and I try not to miss a single episode. I'm one of these people who gets sucked into liking any of Simon Cowell shows, X-Factor is another example, although I wasn't really addicted to the last series, like I have to previous ones.

Everyone has their own opinion, but that's my opinion of the polished turd...
So, Toodles M'dearys
xXXx

P.S. Here is a video of eScala, an electric string quartet who were on last it last year, who got into the final, who I thought should have won. Nether-the-less, they have an album coming out in May/June and here is a song I quite like...