It's What Everybody is Talking About

I get really annoyed with new phrases and catchphrases that seem to have crept into my life in recent years, usually via my television but sometimes via social media, emails and even newspapers. I promised that I wouldn’t rant but I feel I need to get this off my chest because such phrases are now commonplace and that irritates me. 

I’ll give you some examples: 

“It’s what everybody’s talking about.”

No, it is not. It categorically is not. The only person talking about it is the person who is promoting a new TV show. The worst thing about this new TV show is that it is almost certainly a reality TV show full of people who nobody has heard of, making absolute fools of themselves in the hope that they will climb onto the celebrity ladder at rung Z, i.e. right at the bottom. The chances are that these people will be forgotten in a few years’ time. The fact that this TV channel is one of those in the depths of TV hell is beside the point. Usually, the only way you can discover the channel (never mind the programme itself) is when you are desperately looking for something in the nether regions of the channel list because the main channels are full of cookery programmes or those kind of light entertainment programmes that are full of shiny happy people and make me wince whenever I hear the theme music. Of course, it can also apply to upcoming movies and albums too and nobody is talking about those either. 

“The most anticipated album of the year”

Again, in many cases, I have never even heard of the artist concerned. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was perhaps an album by an established musical artist that had taken a sabbatical for a few years and then decided to jump back into the fray. It usually isn’t. It is invariably a singer/songwriter who writes soppy love songs “straight from the heart” and in many cases the album is their debut. Another related phrase is “Soppy McSopface really bares his soul on this album.”

Usually, such commercials are accompanied by a snippet of a single that they haven’t released yet where they are wailing about a lost love while looking as if they are about to burst into tears. It is never a rock artist, a progressive rock artist or anything that isn’t on Radio 1’s playlist. 

It isn’t the most anticipated album of the year. These are the words of the record company who are trying to con us all into buying it. 

“It’s sweeping the nation”

Again, this usually applies to a movie, a film or a book that apparently is so popular that everybody in the nation feels that they have to have it. In most cases, the item concerned can barely sweep my garden path.

“Manchester United are in the ascendency”

This is a football special and it means, I assume, that in the game between Manchester United and some other team, Manchester United are having a period where they are dominating the match. I have a lot of problems with the terminology used by commentators when they are describing the action in such a match because they use phrases that nobody uses outside their commentary box. Other similar overused phrases are “That’s a goal of the season contender”, “We’re at the business end of the season”, “This is why we love the Premier League” and “2-0 is a dangerous lead in the game. The next goal is so important”.

“Your call is important to us”

No, it isn’t. The worst thing about this terrible phrase is that you have just tried calling a bank or some other business and you know for a fact that you will hear this phrase for the next hour repeated between bouts of terrible music. When somebody eventually answers, I am usually so frustrated and angry that all I want to do is scream at the person “WHAT TOOK YOU SO BLOODY LONG?”. Of course, I don’t. I take a deep breath and say “Hi! I’ve got an enquiry for you …” Sometimes they throw in a similar phrase that gets close to pushing me over the edge and that phrase is “This call is being recorded for training purposes”. Honestly, I think that I would rather listen to the phone ringing continually for an hour. 

“My bad”

The worst thing about “My bad” is that I have found myself using it in the past and each time I cringed internally and apologised for it. I picked it up when I was working and I think I have managed to remove it from my vocabulary now.  What it means is “My mistake” or “I’m sorry”. Why can’t people (including me) say that?

 “I’m going to give you 130%”

No, you aren’t because that is absolutely impossible. You can’t even give 100% of yourself really. This is business speak that makes me yell at the TV whenever I hear it on the programmes like “The Apprentice”. Another one from that show is “Let’s SMASH this!”. Invariably the people concerned fail dismally to “SMASH it” and make themselves look lie the incompetent buffoons they are. 

“Rant over!”

Yes – I am struggling to remove this one from my own vocabulary. When I was working I used to moan about things that annoyed me from office politics to TV shows to politics and at the end I would say this. I sometimes still do and I squirm whenever those words leave my mouth. 

Anyway, enough of that. I’m bored with venting my spleen and I think I’ve made my point. 

Rant over. If I have offended anybody then my bad!

Shiny Happy People

Usually when I am on a flight, I hear from the captain and the flight crew during the course of the flight. These fine people speak to the passengers in a professional and informative manner and we all understand what they say and are happy, informed and reassured.

Some flight companies adopt a slightly different approach. I recently returned from a holiday in Croatia with one of them (I’m not saying which).

Rather than letting the flight crew speak, we were subjected to messages pre-recorded by what I can only describe as “shiny happy people”.

The messages alternated between a man who seemed high on euphoria and a women totally immersed in rapture. I can kind of sense why these recordings exist and what they are meant to achieve but I get the feeling, looking around at my fellow passengers, that their goals weren’t quite met.

The airline is a budget airline that is striving to get people in the mood for their holiday while at the same time trying to raise their spirits about the two and a half hour flight ahead. It worked better on the journey out but not so well on the journey back.

I heard one guy say “What do they mean welcoming us home as if it is the best thing since sliced bread? I don’t WANT to come home! I was on holiday and I want to STAY THERE!”

It didn’t bother me too much because deep down I prefer happy people to miserable buggers (even though I can be a bit of a miserable bugger myself sometimes).  However, it got me thinking – always a dangerous thing.

What if the plane had a fault and both engines failed? What would happen as the aircraft started to dive towards the sea? Do they have a pre-recorded message for that?

Happy Man:  “Hey holiday makers! We hope you are enjoying our AMAZING flight but we do have a slight problem. Nothing to worry about but the aircraft is now plummeting towards the Atlantic Ocean as a rate of knots.”

Happy Woman: “Yes – the water is REALLY WARM at this time of year and to make sure that you fully enjoy it, please BRACE now! If you don’t know how to BRACE, our WONDERFUL flight crew will help you. IF you hear your fellow passengers SCREAMING, rest assured that they are screams of EXCITEMENT at a plunge into the warm wonderful water!”

Happy Man: “And after impact we will do our very best to get any survivors out of the aircraft as quickly as possible!”

Okay – that’s a bit extreme, I admit, but there are a lot of shiny happy people around, particularly on the radio and our telly boxes.

I no longer listen to the radio, apart from the news channel when I wake up, but in the past I recall overly happy DJs laughing at – well – nothing - in such a forced way that I thought they were all having a seizure.

I know things haven’t changed because this morning I saw an advert for the breakfast show on a local bus with pictures of demented looking DJs guffawing at something that was out of shot with a line that explained that their show was a mixture of music and “banter”. 

I assume that "banter" means lots of in-jokes from the DJ team that result in bouts of hysterical laughter at their own expense that the general public don't really find funny at all, especially while stuck in traffic, driving to a mundane job on a miserable, cold, dark Manchester Monday morning in the middle of January.

Similarly light entertainment programmes on TV are full of presenters who seem to have taken some form of drug to make them laugh hysterically at dull items and equally dull celebrity guests that I have never heard of as they try to plug their latest projects.

I am sure that you are now reading this thinking “You miserable bastard! Why don’t you just lighten up?”

The truth is that I provide my own form of entertainment on a daily basis at work by ranting mercilessly about things like reality TV, music, politics and shiny happy celebrities, causing joyous merriment amongst my co-workers as they realise that I am just a cantankerous old git who doesn’t understand modern culture.

And they are right.

But at least their laughter is genuine.

I’ll leave you with the song that inspired the title of this post.

I’m the grumpy git peddling at the start of the video.

Please don’t laugh.

Liar!

Right – I’ve just written a post about Donald Trump but a recent tweet by the orange lunatic has prompted me to write yet another one. I don’t want to dedicate more posts to him but I feel I have to in this case.

I just want to tell America that Donald Trump is a liar and you should not believe a single word that comes out of his mouth or any word he throws into cyberspace via Twitter.

Here is the tweet that has forced me to rant about Trump AGAIN:

Not content with telling lies about his own country, he is now telling blatant lies about mine!

How fucking dare you! 

Let’s analyse this tweet.

Yes, crime as risen by 13% in the UK, something I am sure our government aren’t proud of. I would like to write a separate post about the reasons for that – cuts to the police force by our own incompetent ruling party if you’re interested - but I won’t because of the words of the moron in the White House.

The police have indicated that they recorded 5.2 million offences last year the bulk of which were NOT associated with terrorism. Can you read that Mr Trump? I will write it again.

"THE BULK OF WHICH WERE NOT ASSOCIATED WITH TERRORISM!"

Can you understand that, Mr Trump?

Most of the crimes committed were the usual things; public order offences, robbery, possession of weapons, stalking and harassment.

And here’s another statistic for you. There were 664 murders in England and Wales and only 35 of those were caused by the terror attacks in London and Manchester.

Donald Trump is a liar.

How dare he abuse a headline like this to fuel the fear of extreme radical Islamic terror.

And I had to laugh at the end of this tweet:  “We must keep America safe”.

Can I tell you how to keep America safe, you orange buffoon?

Get rid of your bloody guns!

Here are some facts that perhaps Donald Trump should worry himself about.

America is not safe and it is not due to radical Islamic terrorism.

One white non-Islamic man opened fire on a concert on October 1st of this year and killed 58 people, injuring 546. 

One man!

And that’s not the whole story. The statistics about gun crime in America make very uncomfortable reading. For example from 1st January 2015 to 2nd December 2015, there were 355 mass shootings in America. That’s 335 mass shootings in 336 days – more than one a day.

And this statistic applies every year. If you don’t believe me, take a look for yourself.

What Trump needs to do is focus on his own country’s problems by facing up to the NRA and actually doing something, instead of abusing statistics about other countries in an attempt to brainwash gullible supporters into turning against Islam with pure lies.

I’m sure many Americans stumble on this blog and I welcome them with open arms. I love America and every time I have been there I have had a great time. 

Nevertheless, I despise your current President and I suspect (hope) most of you are the same. For those who don't hate him, I implore you to ignore the blatant lies he tells in public with no shame, particularly those about other countries.

Please check the facts and don’t take the random ravings of this lunatic as gospel. 

Donald Trump is lying just to brainwash Americans into following his own deranged agenda.

The only fake news we see at the moment comes from Donald Trump’s twitter account. Every single time he opens his big mouth in public his words are lies and bullshit.

Please ignore him and do your own research. 

You know it makes sense.

In return I shall try not to post any more about Trump. 

I feel sick about this already.

Trumpa Loompa

Donald Trump!

What a man!

What a legend!

I am astonished by what he has achieved in recent years and find myself gaping in wonder at his triumphs.

Donald Trump is President of the United States of America, elected by promising to make America great again. Having been a frequent visitor to the US I wonder how this is possible but clearly he has seen something the rest of the world hasn’t. I realise that there are people out there who doubt this and my own personal theory is that he is doing his best to bring America to its knees in his first term in order to make the country rise up like a phoenix when the next President has to pick up the pieces. Clearly he thinks it will take a few terms to achieve his goals of rebuilding this self-proclaimed greatest country in the world.

And he has God on his side. At the inauguration ceremony, where it was clearly raining, Donald told the world that God made the sun shine. The rest of us saw pissing rain – but Donald saw God. The rest of us saw a below average crowd of witnesses to this event whereas Donald saw billions of people – the greatest number of people in history to witness the inauguration of a President.

Donald also has the ability to run the government on social media. Twitter has become the means of making the country amazing again with policy statement after policy statement crammed into 140 letters. He even invents new words like ”covfefe” – a true genius at work.

Talking of genius, nobody has taken Donald up on his challenge to have an IQ test. They are running scared because Donald has a higher IQ than anybody in the world. He doesn’t have to prove himself. He’s the President for heaven’s sake.

I am also envious of his hair. Yes – you read that correctly. My hair is a sentient beast and leaps at every opportunity to humiliate me.  Donald has the BALLS to face his own sentient beast and march out to face his loyal people with his head held high even when his own hair has appalling ideas of its own.

Moreover, while we’re on the subject of physical appearance, Donald is a trendsetter. His skin colour is amazing and redefines the word “orange”. We all know that “orange is the new black”, a phrase I am certain that Donald invented via Twitter sometime in the past. Either he wants to be an influential leader or he is simply an orange alien with crazy hair. You decide.

Donald also trying to redefine “misogyny” because (he says) he respects all women. All the talk about grabbing women in  intimate places has to be fake news – surely. Surely his quip about dating his own daughter was a joke, When he said way back in 1992 that “you have to treat ‘em like shit!” that had to be fake news too, didn’t it?

Okay – who am I kidding here? All the buffoonery above is total bollocks!

The man is a bloody arse. Everybody knows it but nobody will admit it.

Surely America has sussed this guy out.

Surely?

There are numerous examples of him talking utter bollocks, boasting, lying, contradicting himself, being nasty to anyone who criticises him, hiring incompetents and firing people who challenge him.

There must be millions of Americans who voted for him saying “What on earth possessed me?”

Make America great again? Really?

Donald Trump has made America a laughing stock. But it isn’t funny any more. All he does in the White House is massage his own ego, something he cares about much more than his country.

Worse, his bullshit is taking a sinister turn. Here are some disturbing quotes:

“Rocket man is on a suicide mission for him and his regime.”

“Kim Jong Un of North Korea, who is obviously a madman who doesn't mind starving or killing his people, will be tested like never before!”

"North Korea best not make any more threats to the United States. They will be met with fire and fury like the world has never seen ... he has been very threatening beyond a normal state. They will be met with fire, fury and frankly power the likes of which this world has never seen before.”

And what about this scary exchange when Trump recently posed with a room full of military leaders:

Trump: Maybe it’s the calm before the storm. Could be, the calm. The calm before the storm.

Press: What do you mean, Mr President?

Trump: We have the world's great military people in this room, I will tell you that. And uh, we're gonna have a great evening.

Press: But what do you mean by “calm before the storm”, Mr President?

Trump: You’ll find out.

What the bloody hell is THAT supposed to mean?

Is he going to authorise a major military offensive?

Is he making threats to a deranged power-hungry lunatic in North Korea who just happens to be testing missiles that may soon reach the United States armed with a nuke?

Will this be the start of World War 3?

Oh my God!

I tell you what: there has never been a President like Donald Trump – and I hope to God that there will never be another one.

Here are some thoughts from British comedians:

I hope that's cheered you up a bit.

The Quest For Positivity

I just want to reassure you all that this post may initially appear to be a political ranting mess from the mind of an angry Plastic Mancunian.

It isn’t.

It is about positivity.

First of all, let me say this: Donald J Trump is an incredible man.

Yes, you’ve read that correctly.

“Why would you say this?” I hear you cry. “You’ve said horrible things about him on this very blog.” 

That is true. Here are some of the things I have said:

“I mean look at the guy! He has mad hair and a mad attitude.”

“He's like a walking parody of a politician, an idiot who allows his mouth to utter his thoughts without going through his mental firewall.”

“I am a lot younger than the oversized oompa loompa with mad hair currently residing in the White House.”

I stand by those things – I think “the Donald” is as mad as a bag of badgers. Yet the reason I think he is incredible is because he seems to be getting away with it and has conned a lot of people – somehow. I would like to add that he is also a comedian.

The Plastic Mancunian of 2016 would have ranted and raved like an insane lunatic about the antics of the man who is leading America into a deeply uncertain future. However, I want to thank my quest for positivity for making me step back and remove negative thoughts about Donald Trump and also Brexit.

In the case of Trump, I watched the highlights (or should I say lowlights) of his totally embarrassing and deranged press conference last week and I actually laughed.

There was no anger. What is there to get angry about?

His lies were exposed (again!) and most of the western world were and remain incredulous that this man has the balls to say what he says.

That is why he is an incredible man. Everything he says is incredible and his outrageous lies are so breath-taking that they are hilarious.

So instead of dragging my soapbox out of retirement, I have been watching marvellous comedians, satirists and political commentators from both sides of the Atlantic, ripping him apart.

I have had a great time.

A positive outlook also helped me cope with a potentially disastrous family exchange on Sunday.

Before I continue, let me just fill you in on a few things you need to know.

(1) Mrs PM’s mum is a rampant Brexiteer, which means that she gets really, really angry because we haven’t left the European Union yet.

(2) I am the complete opposite and Brexit was the main contributor to my ranting negative angry persona in 2016.

(3) Mrs PM’s mum and I have had several arguments over the years, one in particular over lunch in a nice restaurant where I totally belittled her in public. Mrs PM and Mrs PM’s other half told us both off for being so stubborn and humiliating them in public.

(4) I avoided Mrs PM’s mum for almost five months in 2016 because I knew that the moment she brought up Brexit I would erupt like a human volcano and say lots of things that I would regret.

(5) Mrs PM’s mum’s political views are the polar opposite of mine.

(6) The only political similarity between Mrs PM’s mum and I is that we both have been known to stand up and bellow at political programmes on the television.

(7) Until today, Mrs PM had ordered her mum, that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should she mention Brexit in front of me.

(8) Apart from politics, Mrs PM’s mum and I get on really, really well and we have been on holiday together quite a few times.

(9) Former Prime Minister Tony Blair, a rampant Remainer last week urged the people of the UK to rise up and fight against Brexit, causing every single Brexiteer in the UK to bellow their hatred of, in their words, “this arrogant delusional undemocratic arsehole”.

(10) Mrs PM’s mum hates Tony Blair.

On Saturday night we stayed at her mum’s house in Blackpool and went out for a lovely Chinese meal. Afterwards we went to the pub for a nightcap before returning to her house to retire for the night.

Now picture the scene:

I came down in the morning to see Mrs PM’s mum with a face like thunder. She was sitting on the television watching a political programme where the interviewer was asking a politician about whether Tony Blair could and should attempt to derail Brexit. The politician was talking and Mrs PM’s mum slapped the sofa in anger and looked like a coiled spring, ready to launch into a tirade of abuse about Remainers.

She knows my political stance and glared at me with the words “I AM SO WOUND UP!”.

Her face dared me to speak, challenged me to rant about Brexit. She had prepared herself for a confrontation with a Remainer, and there was one standing in her lounge - ME! The good time we had had the night before was a mere memory in her eyes.

The 2016 version of the Plastic Mancunian would have embraced the fight and unleashed my true thoughts about Brexiteers to her. He would have told her what he thought of her views and he would have insulted her with words that he would later regret. He would have pointed out her narrow-minded hypocrisy and upset everybody.

I somehow found something within to calm the situation. I wanted to be positive and non-confrontational. I knew that trying to point out why I hated her views would be as futile as leaping off Blackpool Tower in the hope that I would sprout wings and glide over the Irish Sea like a seagull.

I sat next to her and said, as calmly as possible:

“I am equally wound up but my views are the exact opposite of yours. Let’s find something else to watch.”

She looked at me in a puzzled way and then also found something within. Her face softened and she remembered where she was and who was in front of her.

“Do you want some tea and toast?” she said, finally realising that I was a guest in her house.

“Yes please,” I said. "Remainer tea, with Remainer milk and toasted Remainer bread with Remainer butter.”

I nudged her and grinned.

She smiled back and said “We only serve Brexit breakfast here.”

By this time I had flicked over the channel and Frasier popped on the TV.

“Have you ever seen this?” I said, swiftly changing the subject

“No, “ she said and then got up to make my breakfast.

Her other half then came in and said, “She’s been ranting all morning.”

But now she had stopped. I got my lovely toast and a fine cup of tea. The subject was forgotten and not mentioned again, even though , deep down, the anarchist within me wanted to destroy her argument in a furious verbal attack.

I regard that as a small victory for positivity.

The future is bright.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 24

Today’s song is my favourite by Muse and it’s called Knights of Cydonia.

The song is an anthem for people who want to stand up for themselves, fight oppression and take control of their own destiny.

I particularly like the lyric:

I’ll show you a god who falls asleep on the job

How can we win when fools can be kings?

I believe this rings true particularly in recent times and, as I’ve said before, the anarchist inside me is chomping at the bit to lash out at the injustices of the world. Sensibly, I now choose to ignore him, apart from the occasional rant, mainly because I have become pragmatic about these things.

I know that there are few people in the world who totally agree with me about everything, so, when I think about it, why should anybody else listen to me when I stand up like an angry old blond ape and start pontificating about how everybody should have my ideals?

The truth is that they shouldn’t. All they will do, at best, is take my views on board and make their own judgements. That’s (kind of) what I do am starting to do myself to be honest, much to the anarchist’s disgust.

Ultimately we live in a democracy and while everything might not be perfect, at least there are ways to protest peacefully without fear of reprisals.

All of this certainly hasn’t stopped me ranting in the past, something which others have found entertaining, probably because I can be quite energetic, animated and use certain phrases (peppered with the odd expletive) to express my disgust.

There have been several targets over the years and when I look back over some of them, I have in some ways been proven to be correct. Most have been political figures but sometimes the world of popular culture is a decent and easy target.

To be perfectly honest with you, I hate ranting about politics and I try my best not to do so – particularly on this blog. Last year, in 2016, I wound myself up so much that I actually started to hate the world around me and I found that totally unacceptable.

My views on life were uncharacteristically negative and the spiral of despair threatened to go out of control.

I made a vow to stop being negative in 2017 and start thinking positively. Thus far, it seems to be working.

I almost snapped at work last week when a colleague told me about a story he had read on the internet. It involved a young female who had been cut off by her parents for being a spoiled brat. She claims it is because her boyfriend was black but her parents deny this.

What did she do? She raised $10000 through crowdfunding. People actually gave her money.

The anarchist within rubbed his hands in glee because this was worthy of a rant and, for about ten seconds, I forgot my resolution, took a deep breath and handed over the reins to the anarchist.

And then I stopped.

“What am I doing?” I asked myself. “Does this really make a difference to me? Why should I care?”

I turned to my friend and said “You almost got me!”

“SHIT!” he exclaimed. “I was looking forward to the first rant of the year!”

Another colleague said “I’m not sure I like this new Dave!” and I think she actually meant it.

To be honest, I don’t care.

I want to be happy and unless I actually move completely out of my comfort zone and start actively DOING stuff about it, as Muse suggest, I will get nowhere. In fact, even if I do that I will still probably get nowhere.

All I can do is moan and there are too many good things in life to let these monolithic developments get me down.

I used to own a mug that said “Don’t Let The Bastards Get You Down” which I bought in protest to my company’s policy of not allowing swearing in the work place.

But that joke mug has a message that is actually something deeper.

The best way out is to joke about it and hopefully you will see the mad anarchistic rants of 2016 become cynical and satirical put downs instead.

And that will piss of the anarchist no end.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 16

Today’s song is by my current favourite artist, Devin Townsend. The song is called Bend it Like Bender! and is a very catchy song featuring the amazing Anneke van Giersbergen as a co-vocalist.

Devin Townsend’s music is more towards the Progressive Metal genre but a lot of his music is unique and experimental. In many ways when you hear a new album you aren’t always sure what you are going to get.

This song has elements of dance music in it, particularly the chorus and I can imagine it being played at a rock party to get people up onto the dance floor.

I would certainly join in.

I pointed this out to Mrs PM on New Year’s Eve when we were getting ready to go out. We were accompanied by my eldest lad and his girlfriend and decided to have a few snacks and a glass of prosecco before departing.

Mrs PM wanted to take control of the music. I stepped in.

“You are not taking control of the music,” I insisted.

“Why not?”  she said standing in front of me defiantly.

“Three reasons!” I said.

The first reason I gave was obvious. I simply do not like her music. I cannot stand listening to dreadful dance music with one dimensional lyrics that cover one of two things. These lyrics are either about chatting up members of the opposite sex whilst dancing and using the most innuendo driven hints known to man. Or alternatively, they discuss in sometimes graphic terms, the end result of successfully procuring a member of the opposite sex and the antics the two of them get up to in a bedroom afterwards – usually all night long. Don’t get me wrong; heavy metal and rock songs occasionally do the same but at least they cover other subjects too. Rush, for example, have only one song with word “love” in the title and that is from well over one hundred they have written and recorded.

My second reason was more in keeping with the company we were with. My son likes a wide range of music but he particularly loves rock music and heavy metal (heavier than the music I like in some cases). His girlfriend also likes some rock music including, bizarrely, “screamers”, which is heavy rock where the singers scream rather than singing. Again, in this case, her taste is closer to mine (although she does like some dreadful nonsense too).  Basically, Mrs PM was outvoted because the three of us hate Britney Spears and Rihanna.

My final reason was purely selfish. We were going to a large pub that would clear a huge area as a dance floor and allow people to strut their funky stuff for hours. The problem was that this music would be the kind of drivel you get all the time with terrible dance music, the odd old dance song and, if we were lucky, a vaguely interesting rock song. In short I would have to endure hours of music that I despise – as I usually do.

Mrs PM stared at me then looked around at my lad and his girlfriend for support.

“He’s got a point,” said my lad.

Mrs PM caved in and allowed me to control the music for an hour.

“Okay,” she said.

The good news for her was that I played music from across a few genres, including the song above as well as pop songs, rock, a smidgeon of metal, a pinch of dance music (for Mrs PM) and a soupçon of indie, punk and funk.

Later, I was chatting about how radio plays terrible contrived one-dimensional and repetitive music. I vowed to give up ranting so this was my final rant of 2016.

“I would love to be a DJ,” I said. “I would play all sorts of stuff. I want to be the John Peel of Manchester”.

John Peel was a bit of a hero of mine because he basically played music he loved rather than the playlists that the radio stations wanted him to play.

“Why don’t you create a podcast?” said my lad's girlfriend.

And do you know, I think I might consider doing that in future. I know a guy who does exactly that. He is a super cool person but his musical taste and mine are polar opposites. In fact, he sometimes reads this blog if you have any suggestions, let me know (you know who you are).

So maybe I will do this as a challenge for 2017.

After all, I have almost 7500 songs in my collection and there are vast oceans of music out there in cyberspace to fish from.

Watch this space.

I Wanna Live Forever

I have stopped trying to give up ranting as a New Year’s resolution because usually, within a day, I have exploded when confronted with the fallout from the Cult of Celebrity from the previous year.

I have just watched Most Shocking Celebrity Moments as I always do at the end of each year. You may ask me why I torture myself with this banal nonsense. I do so, simply to educate myself when my peers, and others who are stupidly obsessed with celebrity, start a conversation about their bizarre antics. I have been chastised in the past for being oblivious to people like Kim Kardashian, Cheryl Fernandinho-Vermicelli and Miley Billy-Ray Cyrus and in order to at least appear to feign interest, I research the antics of these show-offs by struggling through a televisual experience, with the aid of my soapbox, that highlights how deep they will plummet into depravity to maintain their status as newsworthy icons.

Kim Kardashian? No - this is Kym Cardassian

I know you can’t wait to hear what I have learned from last year’s Hall of Shame. I shall begin.

The first thing I discovered was that there is such a thing as a "professional reality star”. These are people who degrade themselves on national television in a variety of bizarre and humiliating ways in order to expose themselves to sad fans who love to watch car crash television.

Shows like I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out Of Here, Big Brother, Celebrity Big Brother, Geordie Shore and Keeping Up With The Kardashians are full of these self-important and talentless show-offs whose only purpose in life seems to be is to expose everything about themselves to their baying audience.

These people have no talent, only the balls to make themselves look like the idiots they are. Yes, I know that they are paid a lot of money for doing this but I would not want to show my true self to a thick audience of punters who will watch them spread their vile vitriol all over social media sites like Twitter.

Some people will do anything to get into the news, either celebrity or otherwise.

Who are these people?

Katie Hopkins is one such celebrity wannabe who, in order to annoy religious types, this year declared herself to be “The new Jesus”. Is she that desperate for publicity? She’s not original (John Lennon said something similar years ago). Personally, I was more irritated by her referring to refugees as “plague of cockroaches” and advocating using gunships to send them back where they came from. I hope that in 2016 you get your comeuppance, little Miss Nasty.

Others include the Kardashians, who miraculously have somehow wormed their way into the hearts of an audience of people who I thought had some intelligence. I learned that Bruce Jenner, a former gold medal Olympian, married the widow of Robert Kardashian, the father of the Kardashian women, and has now become a woman called Caitlyn in the second most shocking moment of 2015.

I don’t care!

If he wants to be a woman that’s up to him. What I don’t understand is why anybody else outside the Kardashian family would even consider this to be a newsworthy item.

Another thing I learned was that some so-called A-List celebrities consider themselves to be far more important than anybody else. In their minds, they are gods and we, the plebs, are meant to worship them. Now I like the character Iron Man and I love Robert Downey Jr’s portrayal of his eccentric alter-ego, Tony Stark. Yet when he was interviewed by a Channel 4 news reporter called Krishnan Guru-Murthy about the latest Avengers film, there were rules about the questions that could be asked. Of course, being a news reporter, Krishnan Guru-Murthy deviated from the rules and started asking more personal questions about the actor’s rather controversial past and, like a diva, Robert Downey Jr. stormed out and later referred to the reporter as a “syphilitic parasite”.

I also learned that Mariah Carey has entered the world of online dating, presumably because she cannot find a man who will surrender to her diva demands. Whether or not the myths about her are true or not, I can’t imagine any sane man wanting to enter a relationship with her.

Here are a couple of the most outrageous demands she is alleged to have made:

• She wanted eleven bodyguards to surround her table in a restaurant so that the plebs could not see her eating.
• She only drinks soft drinks through a straw, the glass having to be held by one of her minions.
• She rented every single penthouse in a luxury London hotel “for privacy” and demanded a red carpet lined with white candles so that she could make a dramatic arrival.

I wouldn’t mind – her music is absolutely shockingly bad and she has done nothing to deserve such wanton acts of greed and egomania.

Talking of egomania, the next diva is one of my favourite persons of ridicule, Mr Kanye West who, this year at Glastonbury, declared himself to be “the greatest living rock star on the planet” having just absolutely murdered Bohemian Rhapsody. Worse, at a later event, he declared that he is going to run for President of the United States in 2020. I have to say, this man has either got balls of steel of is genuinely deluded and should seek help.

In other lowlights of 2015, there were a couple of high profile separations and divorces, most notably Ben Affleck who allegedly left Jennifer Garner for a babysitter and Gwen Stefani whose husband, coincidentally, left her for a babysitter.

This is one of the main reasons I would not want to be famous. If you seek fame and fortune you have to sacrifice your privacy and, in my opinion, your love life. If you think about how long the average celebrity marriage lasts, you would never want to enter into such a relationship. I may mock Mariah Carey’s diva attitude but the truth is that I feel sorry for her, as I do any famous person whose life is there for public scrutiny. It’s like a double-edged sword. You have the adoration of your fans (no matter how sad some of them are) but the moment you make a fool of yourself in public or your life starts to fall apart, then your downfall is plastered over all the rags all over the world for all to enjoy.

Have people really enjoyed watching Charlie Sheen self-destruct over the years? Are they happy now that he has admitted being HIV positive? What about all the speculation about Cheryl Ferdinand-Vavavoom and her body size? If she is losing weight because of stress, what do you think seeing terrible stories written in tabloid media are going to do for that stress?

The poor woman cannot win.

Such a lifestyle stinks. If I were famous, I would be a recluse – which kind of defeats the object really.

I wouldn’t even want to be a politician. David Cameron was in hot water because, allegedly, he did something disgusting in his youth, as an initiation to become a member of a posh Oxford Dining Club, involving an intimate part of his anatomy and a dead pig’s head. If you want more information, please watch the following video (it’s a bit rude so reader discretion is advised):

Worse, in my view, were the words of Donald Trump, a man who wants to be President of the United States of America. He wasn’t mentioned in the shocking moments programme but some of the outrageous claims and promises he is making scare me to death.

Please, please, please don’t give this man any power.

And if he stands, please, please, please don't give Kanye West any power.

Anyway, enough negativity.

Some celebrities have shone this year. The first I would like to mention is Barry Manilow. Okay, he has made an arse of himself over the years with plastic surgery, but this year he got married – to a man! After all this time, and presumably to the horror of every Fanilow, he has admitted his sexuality.

Good for him!

The other celebrity who continues to prove that he is the nicest guy in rock is Dave Grohl. Madonna was the most shocking moment according to the TV programme because she was dragged off stage at the Brit Awards.

People praised Madonna for continuing but Dave Grohl surpassed that. He fell off the stage in Sweden and broke his leg. However, instead of cancelling the show, his band mates in the Foo Fighters carried on playing cover versions until Dave Grohl returned, his leg now in plaster and apparently in a lot of pain, to finish the concert.

That’s not all. Over a thousand people in the city of Cesena in Italy recorded a version of Learn To Fly in an attempt to persuade the Foo Fighters to play a concert there:

Dave replied in Italian and promised to visit and play a gig:

And he made good his promise (complete with broken leg) – excuse the rather fruity language:

Now that’s what I call celebrity, not despicable diva behaviour, nasty controversial vitriol or professional humiliation.

Anybody who wants fame for the right reasons, look at the example of somebody like Dave Grohl, not the egomania of Mariah Carey and Kanye West or the nastiness of Katie Hopkins and scary rhetoric of wannabe politicians like Donald Trump.

Unanswered Questions

When I think about things seriously, I mean really start to think, my brain begins to hurt with pain and despair at the state of the human race.

That’s why I try not to think too deeply.

Well – apart from yesterday when something prompted me to rant again.

When I rant, my addled brain spits forth questions about the unfairness and stupidity of life. And these are questions that I simply cannot answer.  Here are some examples.

Why would anybody pay £220,000 for a bottle of brandy? 

Yes – that’s right. A restaurant/bar in Manchester has one for sale.

Why would anybody pay £1600 for a six litre bottle of vodka with a light at the bottom of it?

I asked the barman who jokingly gave us two glasses and pretended he was about to open it for us. The light at the bottom made it look like a nice decoration for a bar but nothing else.

Why do women wear shoes that cripple their feet?

Mrs PM walks to a restaurant on the night out in here plimsolls and then pulls out her high heeled foot butchering shoes just outside and proceeds to hobble in clutching on to me as if she has severely injured herself.

Why do some 60 year old women wear revealing and tight fitting clothes that are designed for 21 year olds? 

A woman in a restaurant who would have looked okay wearing normal older person clothes, chose to wear one of those short, tight fitting dresses that revealed almost everything and left very little to the imagination. What’s more she was plastered in make-up, so much in fact that it probably took an expert interior decorator about three hours to make her look vaguely young. It didn’t; she looked ridiculous as she waddled to the toilet, her blubber hanging over the strategically placed “sexy” holes in the dress. Once seen, you can never unsee a sight like that.

What on earth is the logic of having a full length mirror in front of a toilet so that I can see myself pee?

In the same restaurant, I had a perfect view of myself as I answered a call of nature. Why? I ask again: “WHY????”

Why would anybody consider having a huge tattoo? 

Cheryl Cole/Fernandez-Vermicelli (or whatever her name is) has the most enormous tattoo on her bum. Why? What on earth is she going to look like at the age of 60?

How has Katie Hopkins managed to carve out television career for herself by being offensive?

Yes, that’s right! They’ve given Little Miss Nasty her own TV show finally!



What the flump were they thinking??????

Why hasn’t anybody exiled Piers Morgan to a remote island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? Or to the moon?

He is STILL on my tellybox despite my protestations. I thought we had exiled him to America. Well apparently he pissed them off so much they sent him back! Can we send him to Australia now?

Who gives a flying flump about Kim Kardashian or any member of her family?

I am sick of people talking about these people. Stop talking about  them and they will go away.

What is going on in the head of Kanye West?

His ego is bigger than the universe, so much so that he recently declared himself the greatest living rock star on the planet. This after he had murdered Bohemian Rhapsody:



If he’s the greatest living rock star on the planet then I am a cat from outer space.

Why does my cat shit on my doormat?

Talking of cats, my fat lazy cat, Jasper, has recently started dumping his wares on our doormat. I think he’s trying to tell me something. We have had to start spraying the mat with Feliway – a kind of cat pheromone. It’s working but now …

Why do cats wait until you have cleaned their litter tray before immediately dumping their wares back into it? 

It’s summer. The cats should go outside to dump their wares but they are too lazy and prefer to use their trays (which I hate!!!). So there I am, like an idiot, cleaning the last disgusting mess only to find it refilled within seconds!

And why do cats vomit in the worst places?

Cats eat so much of their own fur that it congregates inside their gullets as a repulsive disgusting globule of semi-digested hair which they seem to love chundering up in the middle of my freshly vacuumed and cleaned carpet. Why can’t they go outside to do it? Of do it in the litter tray (I wouldn’t mind if I had just cleaned it).

The Great British Bake Off; what in the name of all that is SANE is this terrible cookery programme doing on prime time British television?

We are all mad in Britain because we watch utter garbage on television and become so obsessed with it that it fills the newspapers and in some cases it becomes all-consuming. We have terrible trailers for this show including one that was banned for copyright infringement, which had 80 year old Mary Berry singing a terrible version of the “Sound of Music”. This programme personifies the stupidity of some of my fellow countrymen who are infatuated with cookery programmes. Put the bloody thing on its own cookery channel  for flump’s sake! What’s worse, people actually complain at so-called funny innuendos that fill the show. People have actually written in to the BBC and complained about the overuse of the phrase “soggy bottom”.

Are these people for real??? I want to complain about the programme itself being so shit. Get the programme off the air before I rant myself into a mad seizure!

Why do people believe everything they read in the newspapers?

The Daily Mail and the Daily Express are the worst newspapers in Britain. They report stories full of scaremongery and have a deep political agenda that people are gullible enough to believe. Almost as bad are the celebrity obsessed tabloids who love to tell us tedious facts like Cheryl Cole/Fernandez-Ventagli (or whatever her name is) has had a tattoo that covers her arse and that we should worry about her because she has lost weight. We are gradually going insane – of that I am convinced.

Why don’t people just stop listening to crap radio stations?

I have listened to radio stations in the car with Mrs PM because we cannot agree on the music we can tolerate, so we search for some common ground and discover that we can both mutually rant about idiotic DJs and the same old dreadful old music that they insist on playing. Please God, give me a radio station. I’ll show them all how it is done and I promise that I won’t spend the time between playing shit songs with banal quizzes and inane uninteresting banter that is not funny and only appeals to morons.

Why does Mrs PM like such shit music?

Why can’t I brainwash her with my fantastic music after being with her for 17 years? There is no depth to Mrs PM’s music. All she listens to is dreadful music including Britney Spears, Cheryl Cole/Flaminez-Vampiri (or whatever her name is). She doesn’t even listen to the words. Even I know the words to the songs that she likes and usually they go something like this:

I see you on the dance floor and I want your love.

If you take me home tonight you can show me all your love.

You can take your love and give it to me all night long.

And then we can beat up the guy who wrote this awful song

Why is the weather in Britain so bloody shit?

Take Friday for example. In the middle of summer I walked about 500 yards from my hotel to take a ride on the legendary “Ferry Across The Mersey” and when I returned, God, in his infinite wisdom, thought I needed a 500 yard shower. I was absolutely drenched by the time I reached the hotel.  I would have been dryer if I had stood fully clothed in my own shower for three hours.

I only went out for five minutes!!

Okay – that’s enough ranting for now.

Thanks for indulging me again.

I’m off to watch the Great British Bake Off and count how many soggy bottoms there are.

How Dare They Cancel My Favourite Shows

I am absolutely fed up of American networks cancelling shows that I love, particularly when the season finale is either a cliffhanger or leaves hooks that lead into a continuation of the story in a new season.

How dare they!

I have just finished watching season three of The Following starring Kevin Bacon as a flawed FBI agent hunting psychopathic serial killers. I was excited because although the story of season was concluded, it left things open for an interesting season four.

“I can’t wait for that,” I said to Mrs PM who also enjoyed it.

Imagine my disgust when I discovered not ten minutes ago, that there would be no season four at all.

Rant? I think I may have redefined the word. My soapbox is struggling under the ferocious assault and the cats are watching my fury, wearing their specially made ear defenders so they can laugh at my antics.

Oh dear - he's off again!!!

 This isn’t the first time shows have been cancelled prematurely. I really hate it when a story doesn’t finish.

It’s like having a book you are reading snatched from your grasp and hurled into an incinerator and then discovering that it was the only copy. Or watching a film and discovering that it was only partly finished.

The behaviour of these faceless people infuriates me.

I can imagine a bunch of suited men in black sitting in an office and deciding whether to continue the season. Just because a few thousand less people watched it, is that truly grounds for pissing me and thousands of other people off?

It doesn’t matter whether the show is a triumph – it’s all to do with money at the end of the day – and that’s a real shame.

Don’t get me wrong; if a series finishes and ties up all of its loose ends to bring the story to a satisfactory conclusion, then I am happy. I may not be happy with the ending, but at least I have some kind of closure, something I desperately need from such a series.

One of my favourite shows ever, Babylon 5, survived for 5 seasons, despite the threat of cancellation lurking over it like an unseen nemesis. As brilliant as the show was, I feel that it seasons three and four were somewhat rushed in order to get as much of the story in as possible. The result was a triumphant season four story arc that thrilled me. It was so good that season five was commissioned and, sadly, didn’t reach the high standards of its predecessor. However, at least the writer managed to conclude the story in a satisfactory manner, leaving one happy Plastic Mancunian.

Some series have been so popular that the television company has persevered and allowed them to run to a conclusion and I’m delighted that they have. One example is Breaking Bad, which Mrs PM and I are currently ploughing our way through. Somebody bought us the DVD box set for Christmas with a recommendation that we should give it a try. We are currently close to finishing season three and are both thoroughly enjoying it, knowing that the series reaches a satisfying conclusion. I am happy that I can watch the remaining episodes in the knowledge that there will be complete closure.

I have to say, that UK TV companies generally allow a series to run its course and seldom cancel a show at the end leaving a massive cliffhanger. It has been known though. The world’s longest running science fiction series, Dr Who, was eventually terminated after 26 years in 1989 and the UK geek world was outraged. Thankfully the BBC had a change of heart, though it did take another 16 years to do it.

I just wish that the US networks, who are meant to provide entertainment, would concentrate less on being so ruthless and look at the bigger picture. There are millions of people outside of the US who love these shows.

Think about that, Fox, NBC and all of you other US networks. Next time you want to cancel a show, ask me first!

How about you, dear reader.

Have you suffered the deep frustration of having your favourite TV shows cancelled?

If so, which ones?

The Evolution Of Ideas

Can I share something with you, dear reader?

I’d like to take you on a journey inside my imagination. Don’t worry - I won’t steer you to the weirder zones (even I don’t want to go there).

I see my own imagination as a universe teeming with ideas and thoughts hurtling around the cosmos, some of which take form and head towards a central point where they can evolve and hopefully make the transition from my mind’s eye to the real world, becoming a Word document, a comment in my notepad or an email to myself to store in my ideas folder.

The pinnacle of this evolutionary process is a blog post.

However, I sometimes have a problem – actually getting these ideas to evolve into something tangible.

Sometimes, I am delighted when I have a thought and convert into a blog post. Yet there are many times when I find it tough. Such ideas are quite good until the point when I try to put pen to paper and at that point they refuse to advance any further.

There are several reasons for this.

Some ideas seem great in my head yet but when converted into real words lose impact and refuse to progress any further.

Other ideas when reviewed at a later stage seem to be ridiculous and are cast back into my imagination in the hope that they can improve.

Yet more ideas are simply too weird to be cast into the limelight.

I equate the process as similar to trying to crowbar an elephant into a garden shed – pointless and impossible.

Yet, bizarrely, the more annoyed I am about an idea, the higher the likelihood that it will be cast onto the internet for you to read, dear reader. It’s almost as if my creative juices are fuelled by an inner rage. I like to think of this as my inner Hulk. 

When the inner Hulk speaks,  I stop worrying about how good or bad the post is and focus solely on getting all of the angry words down. As the thoughts cascade around my head and the volume of my inner ranting voice increases, I find that I type faster and before I know it I have a very crude blog post that just needs to be sharpened before publication.

And that worries me slightly.

By nature I am a very laid back person who doesn’t like to be angry. Ranting is therapeutic and helps to disperse the rage – which is a good thing. The problem is that this shouldn’t be the catalyst that helps an embryonic idea develop into a blog post.

I need another more inspirational method to be more creative. I have been exploring the options and there are definite ways to achieve this.

One other method that works is to be passionate about the idea. Regular readers will know that I pepper my inane nonsense with posts about music, something I like to do on a fairly regular basis to bore you into coma. While my inner ranting voice inspires me to write about things that make me angry, another inner voice – the Blind Enthusiast – pours out my inner enthusiasm in a similar way to the inner Hulk.

I reckon that if I allow the Blind Enthusiast to expand his horizons, more of my weird ideas will make it from my imagination onto the internet to bore you even more, dear reader.

With that in mind, I am apologising in advance for the posts that will appear over the coming months – starting with this one.

The Blind Enthusiast is currently in charge and raring to go.

Before I go, let me just ask:

How do you develop ideas into blog posts?

Do you have an Inner Hulk or Blind Enthusiast?

Are you as weird as I am?

Thanks for listening.