Time Flies

I was born in 1962 and it seems such a long, long time ago – a really really really long time ago. When I was born, JFK was still President of the USA and Dr No, the first Bond film, was released.

I’m so old.

Recently younger friends have made me very aware of my age with cracks like:

“You were ALIVE when England won the World Cup? REALLY?????”

I’ve recently been going to a few quizzes and, with one exception, my team mates are children. When I say “children” I mean aged between mid to late 20’s and early 30’s.

I was recruited because there is an awful lot of crap that I have collected in my head over the years and it does come in useful sometimes. When it comes to the music round, I fill a massive gap. The youngsters quite literally don’t know anything about music earlier than 1995. Here’s a typical conversation:

PM: I can’t remember who sang “Downtown”. Was it Petula Clark or Dusty Springfield?

CHILD 1: Who are they?

PM: You are joking, right?

CHILD 1: No – do you know who these singers are?

CHILD 2: No. I’ve never heard of them. Are they bands?

PM: BANDS???????

One of these children didn’t recognise the Beatles – THE BEATLES for Pete's sake.

Of course, when it comes to the modern end of the music spectrum, I am utterly hopeless and this is where the children rise to the challenge. Between us, we clear up on the music round.

They are also amazed that I know stuff from the 60’s to the 90’s – not interesting stuff … WEIRD stuff.

My head is filled with this garbage because I was alive at the time and that hurts a little.

Once upon a time, I was child myself and I was a right royal pain in the arse to the older generation. When I was a young man starting work and thrust into an environment full of older people, I was merciless to them.

“How old are you? 40? Bloody hell, shall I help you across the office?”

I was ageist – ruthlessly ageist. And now, dear reader, all my puerile banter over the years has come back to haunt me and bite me on the arse.

I am an old git myself and subject to all manner of ageist jokes.

Whenever pensions are mentioned, the abuse hurled my way is relentless. I’m not even 50 yet but to these young whippersnappers I am a decrepit and grumpy old ogre.

“Cheaper insurance for you soon, eh Dave?”

“Are you going on one of those Saga holidays with the other pensioners this year?”

I get my own back, of course, by mutating their ageist remarks into a brand new species of abuse:

“What’s up with you? Has nobody changed your nappy today?”

“Want a lollipop, sunny boy?”

“Put your hand up before you ask me a question.”

What’s incredible about the inevitable trek towards the knacker’s yard is that it only seems like yesterday when I was a twenty year old student hurling gallons of beer down my gullet, dancing from dusk till dawn and chasing young women as if they were becoming extinct.

I have vivid memories of each decade of my life and I can barely believe that 48 years have flown by so damned quickly.

I remember the moon landing in 1969.

I remember Hey Jude being in the charts.

I remember Lost in Space and the original series of Star Trek

I recall the school disco dancing to Tiger Feet by Mud. I could even do the dance.

I have fond memories of watching Walsall beat Manchester United in the F.A Cup in 1973.

I remember every single Dr Who apart from William Hartnell.

I wore flairs.

I remember Elvis Presley dying.

We had a street party on the Queen’s Silver Jubilee in 1977.

How could I possibly forget having a massive crush on Linda Carter?

What about the rise of punk rock?

I remember when Michael Jackson looked like a normal human being.

I have vivid memories of Margaret Thatcher, the milk snatcher (aka Attila the Hen) and the rise of alternative comedy.

I remember Lady Diana Spencer marrying Prince Charles.

I remember Kevin Turvey.



I remember Space Invaders and Pacman.

I remember video jukeboxes appearing.

I had a mullet.

I recall shoulder pads and big hair.

I was married in 1988 – the year I lost my mullet.

I could go on into the 90’s but all of a sudden I feel quite old. It is quite incredible to me that I have somehow managed to stumble through the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s and that I survived the millennium bug and am still acting like a complete arse over ten years late in 2011.

When I look in the mirror, I still see that bespectacled blond kid of the sixties, clutching a Thunderbird 2 toy and flying it through the air with cries of “This is Virgil Tracy – THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!”.

The image of this young child with a strange, rampant imagination makes me remember what it feels like to be young. Mentally, I think I stopped developing at the age of sixteen; there is still a child within desperate to get out – just ask Mrs PM.

And it is that inner child that keeps me going. I still have puerile thoughts and act like an immature buffoon. I giggle at childish things and have been told on quite a few occasions to “grow up” – even by my own kids.

I don’t care. I simply believe that people should hold onto their inner child and never let that child go. The moment you do is the moment you admit defeat and allow yourself to slide inexorably towards pipe, slippers and Antiques Roadshow.

I shall endeavour to watch time continue to fly and enjoy myself without thinking of whether my activities are immature or not.

That is the key to happiness, I think.

Father Time might win in the end but I shall go down fighting.

By the way, the answer was “Petula Clark” – and of course I got it right.

Never Never

I am going to steal something again, dear reader, this time from Kath at Blurb from the Burbs. If you like a good chuckle, pop over there and read some of Kath’s entertaining posts.

Anyway, back to the item I am stealing.

The idea is a simple one; list ten things that you have never done. Kath, however, as extended this to include a further ten things that you will never do again and ten things that you want to do.

Because I have no qualms about stealing such things, here is my attempt at the challenge.

Ten Things I Have Never Done

1. I have never been skiing. I am a fairly well travelled person and have had ample opportunity to attach a couple of planks of wood to my feet and hurl myself down a snow covered mountain in freezing temperatures but I have never taken it up. A good friend of mine spent most of the 1980’s trying to persuade me to go skiing with him and his mates and I resisted, probably because I was a bit worried about the pain. I know of two people who have injured themselves on ski slopes; the first somehow broke his leg in an innocuous tumble and the other tried a ski run that was above his competence level and broke his arm quite badly. My sister loves to ski and another friend has tried recently to persuade Mrs PM and I to give it a go. Worse, my own 17 year old son is off on a school skiing trip to Austria and is there as I speak. Maybe I am just a coward.

2. I have never been to South America, Japan or New Zealand. All of these places are on my hit list, should I ever get the opportunity to do so.

3. I have never written a song. I would love to write something that other people could sing along to. It wouldn’t necessarily be a heavy metal monster; I would prefer to write a song with more mass appeal and meaningful lyrics. I love listening to songs with wonderful lyrics. I am handicapped, though, because musically I have very little talent.

4. I have never had any of my writing published. To be fair, I haven’t really written anything of any significance apart from the nonsense that you are reading now. Yes, I suppose in a sense it is published on a blog but it is not in a newspaper, magazine and it certainly isn’t a book. I would love to do that one day.

5. I have never successfully chatted up a woman. I have been chatted up a few times but all of my attempts to woo members of the opposite sex with whimsical assortments and cheesy compliments have failed spectacularly, and on occasion have turned a passive young woman into a violent harpy. Thank God I’m past all that now.

6. I have never been on or driven a motorbike. I have always considered them to be too dangerous, although they do appeal to the boy inside me at a primitive level.

7. I have never been arrested. I have been in a police car, but only because I broke down at a traffic light and the kind officer towed my car to a safe spot.

8. I have never done a parachute jump – and I never will. Putting my fear of heights aside, the prospect of leaping out of an aircraft thousands of feet up and relying on a nylon contraption to protect you from a horrible death, somehow never appealed to me.

9. I have never been to a ballet. I was tempted a few years ago, just to see what the fuss was all about but instead I went to an opera. And that was dreadful – absolutely totally and utterly dreadful. Sadly that has coloured my judgement so there is absolutely no chance of me ever attending a ballet.

10. I have never driven a sports car around a fast track like they do on Top Gear. This is something I would love to have a go at.

Ten Things I Will Never Do Again

1. I will never do anything as stupid as climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge again. Why on earth I considered the advice “leave your fear on the ground” to be sage I will never know. I now accept that I am terrified of heights and have given up trying to conquer it.

2. I will never allow myself to be persuaded to part with my hard earned cash to see a famous singer whose music I am not into. It still pains me to this day that I allowed myself to give in to my ex-wife’s demands to drive 100 miles to see Cher in Birmingham. It was utterly dreadful and it cost me an arm and a leg. The only saving grace was that she was only on stage for just over an hour. An hour too long if you want my opinion.

3. I will never eat rhubarb, prunes, apricots or any other hellish food that I don’t like ever again.

4. I will never fail to be positive. There have been times when I have succumbed to negativity but I find that if you are have a bright outlook on life then you are much happier generally.

5. I will never watch cheap talent shows like “Britain’s Got Talent” or “The X Factor” again. They are a curse and serve only to line the pockets of those who exploit the poor contestants and the audience who somehow become obsessed with these lame karaoke singers.

6. I will never stand with opposing fans at a football match involving Walsall again. When I first moved to Manchester, I used to travel to local towns to see my beloved team play and, more often than not, I would pretend to be a home fan so that I could make a quick getaway. There is nothing more painful than seeing your team being ripped apart while surrounded by adoring fans who are screaming for more blood. “We want six” is not a nice thing to hear when your team is 5-0 down.

7. I will never get divorced again. The whole episode was a real low point that was full of acrimony and pain. I was naïve and stupid and I will never allow myself to be that naïve or stupid again.

8. I will never grow my hair long again. I used to have long bushy hair in the seventies and in the eighties I styled it into a magnificent mullet which was erroneously sliced off by a stupid hairdresser. I would love long hair again but Mrs PM has told me in no uncertain terms that she would drug me and shave it all off should I ever try again.

9. I will never tell a woman that giving birth is as bad for men as it is for women. In fact, I said this to a roomful of pregnant women and my point was that it is mentally traumatic for guys who worry about the birth and their beloved lady’s wellbeing. Sadly, my little speech was not understood and one particular woman told me that I should try crapping a bowling ball – that way the experience might give me a small inkling of the pain involved.

10. I will never again remark on a woman’s appearance to Mrs PM. Quite a few years ago, we went to a pub that was loud and noisy and played music that I hated. “SHALL WE LEAVE?” I bellowed. “NO – IT’S GREAT HERE,” she replied. I looked around and said “WELL THERE IS ONE GOOD THING ABOUT THIS PLACE”. She looked at me surprised and said, “WHAT?” “THE TALENT!” I said. We were out of there before I could say “But I haven’t finished my beer yet” and I think to this day that Mrs PM hasn’t forgiven me.

Ten Things I Want

1. I want to win the lottery to allow myself to live my dream with no fear of the consequences.

2. I want to see as much of the world as possible. Earth is a huge, diverse and interesting place and I have only seen a fraction of it.

3. I want to escape the rat race as quickly as possible. It’s a dream but you can’t stop dreaming, can you?

4. I want to improve my fitness and at the same time lose those extra stubborn few pounds that are refusing to budge. I might have to resort to desperate tactics – give up beer and cheese for a while.

5. I want to improve my photography skills. I have taken a load of photos and most of them are okay – I just want to take them to the next level

6. Speaking of next levels, I want to improve “The Plastic Mancunian”. I am reasonably happy with the blog but being a perfectionist, I feel that I need to inject a little something to make it a little better. I will endeavour to do so over the coming months.

7. I want to be able to speak another language. At the moment, I am targeting French, but Spanish and German would be good too.

8. I want to write a book. Yes – I know – I should already have done so but I am at war with myself – and it’s a continuous and arduous battle. And my current workload doesn’t help matters at all.

9. I want nothing but the best for my two sons. My eldest lad is currently looking at universities and has just passed his driving test. My youngest lad is currently trying to work out what to do with his life. I will do anything I can to help them achieve their dreams.

10. I want to make Mrs PM happy. If she’s happy then so am I and I want to be happy – it’s nice.

Please feel free to have a go at this yourself – and let me know how you get along.

Gary Moore - RIP

On Sunday we lost another rock legend. Gary Moore, one of the world’s greatest guitarists died of a heart attack while on holiday in Spain.

He was 58 years old.

As well as playing guitar for Thin Lizzy on the momentous Black Rose album, he had a wonderful solo career, first as a rock guitarist and later, returning to his beloved blues.

I was fortunate enough to see Gary live in 1990 when he toured with his first blues album called “Still Got The Blues”. Initially I was disappointed because I expected him to play some of his rock classics, but as the concert progressed I was struck by how good a guitar player he was – in fact, one of the best I have seen.

It is a sad loss to the world of music and at such a relatively young age.

To help his memory live on in my own small way, I present to you my favourite songs featuring Gary Moore.

10. Led Clones – Gary Moore and Ozzy Osbourne

“After the War” is one of my favourite albums and features heavily in this top ten. “Led Clones” features the vocal talents of Ozzy Osbourne and one of my favourite drummers, Cozy Powell. The song bemoans the number of bands at the time who sounded like Led Zeppelin – hence the title. A great tune.

9. Thunder Rising – Gary Moore

“Wild Frontier” is my favourite album by Gary Moore and “Thunder Rising” is a magnificent rock anthem featuring Gary at his best. A wonderful excuse to get out your guitar.

8. After The War – Gary Moore

This is the title track to “After the War” and once again demonstrates that Gary could write a fabulous tune. Again it features the talents of Cozy Powell on the drums and offers you yet another excuse to haul out your air guitar.

7. Waiting For An Alibi – Thin Lizzy

This song is taken from the album “Black Rose”, one of the best albums by Thin Lizzy.

6. Midnight Blues – Gary Moore

When Gary Moore turned to the blues I was quite shocked but the album, “Still Got The Blues” is a superb album. My favourite song is “Midnight Blues” and is so solemn and tuneful that it brings a tear to my eyes, particularly given his passing. This is a superb song.

5. Take A Little Time – Gary Moore

Another powerful rock song from “Wild Frontier”. Time to get out that air guitar again.

4. Out In The Fields – Gary Moore and Phil Lynott

This was one of the last songs recorded by Phil Lynott and was quite sad just because of that fact. Nevertheless, it is a wonderful song featuring two absolute legends.

3. Friday On My Mind – Gary Moore

I love “Friday On My Mind”, particularly the version from “Pin Ups” by David Bowie. Gary Moore covered the song on “Wild Frontier” and turned it into a cracking rock song that surpassed both Bowie’s version and that of the Easybeats.

2. Blood Of Emeralds – Gary Moore

“Blood of Emeralds” is a masterpiece. It has a very Celtic feel to it, as you can probably guess from the title of the song. One of the best rock songs of the 1980’s. Sadly it nestled on the album “After the War” and, in my opinion would have made a superb single.

1. Over The Hills And Far Away – Gary Moore

“Over The Hills…” was the song that got me into Gary Moore. It was a single and I loved it from the moment I heard it. It is the first and best song on “Wild Frontier”. The album contains a longer version of this song with some blistering guitar.


Rest in peace , Gary – we’ll miss you.

Blog Survey

Today, I was going to steal another meme from Sunday Stealing but it was the third part of a massive 100 question effort. Laziness prevailed and I decided against it.

Instead, I found a blog survey, courtesy of Comedy Plus and decided to steal that instead.

Here we go:

1. If you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?

We have two black cats, a male called Jasper and a female called Poppy. They are brother and sister and are almost nine years old. Jasper is an enormous greedy monster who can barely crowbar himself through the cat flap; Poppy lives in a constant state of terror and is frightened of everything – including herself.

Mrs PM thinks of them as “her babies” so I guess that makes them part of the family. I know for a fact that I am the fourth most important creature in our house, behind Mrs PM and the cats. In fact, the cats rule, jointly and we are merely slaves, pampering them, feeding them and serving their every desire.

Who said that the world is dominated by mankind? If our house is anything to go by we live in a feline dominated world, with humans being merely subservient serfs.

I know my place.

2. If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?

My dream is to escape the rat race and become a totally free agent. I hate being tied to “the man” and forced to answer his every whim simply to survive. There is nothing better than leaving work on a Friday knowing that I have two days free of this dreadful form of modern servitude. Of course, if you read my answer to question one, you will realise that the cats are my real masters; but I can cope with that. After all, I am bigger than they are and there are only two of them (unless you count Jasper as three cats – which you could quite easily do if you were very short sighted and saw him from a distance).

3. What is the one thing most hated by you?

Liars and selfish deceivers who twist the facts for their own gain. You see it every day when a politician blatantly tells lies on the TV in front of millions of people. And it’s not just politicians. You see it in the world of business, celebrity and other walks of life.

Crikey, I sound bitter, don’t I? I’m not really – I just like everything to be honest. And the world is not an honest place – and that bugs me.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?

I would go to America because you can’t spend dollars in England.

Actually, I would take a year out and travel first class to as many weird and wonderful countries as I could and I would write about my experiences. I would, of course, make sure that loved ones were looked after and I would probably become some kind of weird philanthropist simply because a billion dollars is much more than I could ever conceivably spend.

I would also build a monstrous castle by the sea, somewhere near to Manchester, and live there in luxury.

I might also buy a few properties abroad.

Stupidly (and hypocritically) I would also buy Walsall Football Club and make sure that they won the Premiership.

5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?

That depends. Most of the time, it is the mere sight and sound of my beloved Mrs PM. However, if Mrs PM is the source of my bad mood, then I find beer and loud rock music blast away the negativity. Or something that makes me laugh, like a good bit of comedy.

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?

That’s a difficult one. There is no better feeling than loving someone but you need to be loved to fully appreciate the experience. I would therefore say both.

7. What is your bedtime routine?

Turn off the TV. Make sure that the front and back doors are both locked. Tell Jasper to look after the house while I am asleep (difficult because he is asleep too – usually on the bed). Turn on the burglar alarm by stroking it fondly. Go to the toilet. Clean my teeth. Get undressed. Get into bed. Get out of bed and go back into the bathroom because I forgot to flush the toilet. Go back into the bedroom. Take off my glasses. Set the alarm. Wind up Mrs PM using a variety of irritating techniques. Get into bed. Read my book. Switch off the light. Go to sleep. Have weird dreams.

8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?

I met Mrs PM at work and we worked together for a few months before we went to Hong Kong on a business trip together. That was around twelve years ago. We don’t work together any more.

9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be? 

I would watch Geddy Lee, Neil Peart and Alex Lifeson at work composing the next Rush song.

10. What kinds of books do you read?

I love a good novel, particularly a decent horror story, a magnificent space opera, a good comedy, a Robert Ludlum-style thriller or anything that is weird.

11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?

I would love to have finished work and be enjoying the freedom I crave. In reality, I will be older and fatter and those grey flecks will have invaded more of my hair.

And I will probably still be working.

12. What’s your fear?

I am scared of heights and spiders. I am also terrified of Chinese toilets and public speaking – particularly when the two are combined.

13. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?

I would love to see Earth from space but the prerequisites for space travel scare me to death. So, no – I would not give up junk food for a trip to space.

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married, but poor?

Ideally, I would like to be married and rich – but failing that, married and poor.

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

Open my eyes. Look at the alarm clock. Howl in anguish. Get up and head for the bathroom. Weigh myself. Howl in anguish. Get undressed. Go to the toilet. Weigh myself again in the hope that a full bladder and my T-shirt account for the extra pounds. Howl in anguish. Have a shower. Weigh myself for a third time to see if any dirt that might have accumulated and has now been washed off by the shower might account for the extra pounds. Howl in anguish. Leave the bathroom depressed and head back to the bedroom totally possessed by the grumpy monster within.

16. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?

I’ve said this before and I shall say it again. I would annihilate her musical taste and replace it with my own. I love music but the stuff she listens to (and forces me to listen to) is utterly dreadful.

Apart from that, she’s perfect.

17. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?

Clint Ironheart.

18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?

It depends what the person did. However, I doubt they would be special any more.

19. If you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?

Cheese on toast.

The Battle of the Bulge

I am fighting another war and to be honest it is not one that I saw coming. Consequently, I am lagging behind.

But I am fighting back.

I am engaged in the Battle of the Bulge, dear reader; me versus my expanding waistline.

When I was a kid, I was so skinny that the term “bag of bones” was a fairly accurate description. I was like a living skeleton with skin tightly wrapped around my frame, with only a little muscle to hold it in place and make me look vaguely human.

I was thin – terribly thin. Yet I had a massive appetite and a fantastic metabolism and I could, quite literally, eat a horse and burn it off without blinking, belching or farting. If I ate a crisp you could see it travel down my neck before reaching my stomach where it was napalmed out of existence and added to my energy intake.

As a kid I used to think that my inner combustion engine was like the world’s greatest nuclear reactor that could break down anything thrown at it.

“I don’t know where he puts it,” my mum used to say, and to be honest neither did I.

The food I consumed gave me loads of energy. I used to run everywhere, like a little whippet. I played football in the park, swam, played squash, badminton, rugby, athletics, cricket – you name it, I tried it. I was in the school cross country team and at the end of each race I felt alive. I had a newspaper round and I carried a bag full of daily missives around the streets, running the entire time.

And I still ate loads, my nuclear digestion giving me enormous bursts of vitality allowing me to pursue all of my sporting activities with ease.

Even at university, when I cut down the exercise slightly (only slightly, mind you), I still ate vast quantities of food, especially chocolate, crisps and other things that were extremely fattening and they were absorbed without adding anything to my body fat.

Nothing changed – even when I settled down into working and married life.

I still ate loads and only put on a little weight, which vanished whenever my ex-wife, W, decided to go on a diet. She often battled with her weight (and usually won) but whenever she made a supreme effort and ate more healthily (with whatever the latest dieting fad was at the time), I lost weight too - and very easily. It used to infuriate her. I simply ate massive quantities of whatever she was eating and while the pounds slipped off slowly for W, they dropped off me.

In my early thirties, I remember standing in front of a mirror, staring at my naked reflection, and thinking to myself “I’m still a bag of bones.”

And I was.

Even at the age of 32, I could see my rib cage and my stomach was totally flat. I had no muscle to speak of at all.

I became blasé about it all. I was blissfully unaware that at some point my nuclear digestion would begin to falter. To me, the Battle of the Bulge was something I would never have to fight. Obesity, for me, was an enemy that was too terrified to take me on. I would never be fat.

How wrong I was.

It is difficult to pinpoint the exact time that I noticed things starting to change. I have a feeling that it might have coincided with my 40th birthday.

I noticed that my weight was increasing. “Time for a diet,” I thought. I recalled that when W had inadvertently put me on a diet, my weight dropped. It would again – wouldn’t it?

Nope!! Not at all.

I ate more healthy food and the weight didn’t go. I actually joined a gym and started to exercise more, but the weight only drifted off a little. All of a sudden, I had a minor weight problem. I couldn’t believe it.

And it has been that way ever since. I have had to cut down on the amount of food I eat and have all but eliminated fattening food like chocolate, crisps, cakes etc. in favour of fruit.

People tell me that I am not fat and to be honest, I’m not really. The problem is I recall standing in front of the mirror and seeing a bag of bones.

Now it looks as if somebody has tried to inflate me. If I compare that mental image of myself aged 32 with the naked image I saw this morning, the difference is frightening.

I have moobs and a little podgy stomach. My shoulders are looking broader and my face is fatter. Things are drooping, dear reader – DROOPING.

People who haven’t seen me for a few years keep saying things like “My God – you’ve put on weight, Dave.”

And that hurts.

I have therefore decided to declare war on another front and try to rediscover the physique of my youth.

Stop laughing! Stop laughing right now!

I can do this – I know I can. I actually decided to start in December when I stood on the bathroom scales at the height of Christmas over-indulgence only to leap off in shock.

“GET OFF ME YOU BIG FAT LUMP OF BLUBBER!” yelled the contraption and it wasn’t even a “Speak Your Weight” machine.

I have to confess, dear reader, that I am not actually that fat. I am just a little overweight. The problem is that I am not used to it and I don’t like it at all.

I aim to lose a stone – then I will be happy. Nonetheless, just losing a few pounds can be difficult. The main problem is the food I like. I don’t want to give it up.

Why is it that the food that tastes best also adds several inches to your waistline? I love crisps, bacon, sausage, burgers, beer, pizza, cheese, chips, steak, hot dogs, mayonnaise, ice cream, fried chicken, curry, pies, kebabs, cheese on toast, biscuits, doughnuts, etc. etc.

It's like a sick joke.

The good news is that I am not a fan of chocolate and cakes so I can easily avoid such items. Sadly, there is one temptress that taunts me every time I open the fridge door. My nemesis is a giant slab of cheese.

“Go on,” it whispers. “Just a couple of slices of cheese on toast. You know you want to.”

I have resisted so far. Since December I have managed to lose about four pounds. I haven’t necessarily stopped eating crap but I have cut down, substituting an apple for a bag of crisps for example. Also, doing a bit more exercise has helped (though I have managed to hurt myself slightly doing Tae-Bo, so much so that I have decided to cut down on it a little on that too – don’t tell Billy Blanks).

I reckon that by spring, when the weather improves and the days grow longer, I shall be ready to get on my bike, quite literally.

This is a war I shall win – as long as I can resist the call of the cheese.

Survival Of The Drunkest?

The human race is evolving and it is all down to alcohol.

You may think that I have lost my mind, dear reader, but if you read on you will find yourself agreeing with me.

I am certain of this.

Well, there is an element of doubt.

Okay – you may NOT agree with me and you might end up considering me to be a weird arse. Nevertheless, please indulge me because I know I’m right.

Well maybe – perhaps!

Picture the scene. You have been invited to a major event that will involve drinking, dancing and generally revelling in a night club, or some similar debauched establishment, and you are preparing yourself.

You want to turn heads.

You want members of the opposite sex to fall in love with you.

You want the world to be talking about you tomorrow.

There is only so much you can do, physically. If, like me, you look like a decrepit old grape, then the task is almost impossible. If you are a woman, no matter how wonderfully attractive you are, you will still want to spend approximately six hours perfecting your appearance.

That is a given and has nothing to do with evolution. That is human pride and the need to be loved. And we all need to be loved (well, apart from Piers Morgan or Sarah Palin perhaps).

The evolutionary part is the way our bodies have developed to cope with the effects of imbibing too much alcohol. Some of these evolutionary traits are harmful - so I guess maybe you could say that there is a paradox here – we are evolving and regressing at the same time.

Of course, not everybody goes out planning to drink a lake of beer and wine. Most people know their limits and can enjoy themselves responsibly.

However, there are those who opt to break the record for the largest amount of alcoholic beverages ever consumed and there are also those who forget about responsibility and simply go with the flow without realising that they too are consuming a small river of beer.

And this is where evolution kicks in – and also regression.

The evening has started and you are surrounded by your friends. Everybody has had a couple of beers and the conversation is flowing. This is when the first evolutionary trait suddenly kicks in – the Beer Brain.

The Beer Brain is responsible for unleashing that inner potential that exists in all of us. When the Beer Brain is activated, entrepreneurial ideas that exist in a dusty old chest within our minds are suddenly released. The fact that this chest has a sign on it saying “DO NOT OPEN – EVER!!!” is completely ignored. Alcohol gives us the ability to shatter that lock and unleash all of our potential on the unsuspecting crowd. There will be those who are sceptical about this – but I am certain that in that chest there is a massive idea waiting to be implemented.

Something like, perhaps, the spaghetti mask. When eating spaghetti and you slurp it up, the end flies around spraying tomato sauce all over the place and, more importantly, all over your glasses (this is painful for me I can tell you). So you wear a metal mask with a mouth hole that takes all the spray as you slurp.

What about a homing sock? Each pair of socks comes with a remote control and an in-built locator device. When the button is pressed on the remote control, the sock comes to you – you will never lose a sock again.

Maybe a pair of underpants that you can turn into a toilet at the push of a button (something like this would be useful for me on my forthcoming trip to China).

How about an ironing machine? All you have to do is throw you clean but frazzled clothing into a machine, wait a while and extract the neatly ironed product. Some men may say that they have a device that goes the whole hog – called a washing basket. All they have to do is pile their dirty washing in the washing basket and, hey presto – in a couple of days it is hanging up crisp and clean in your wardrobe. Sadly, I don’t own such a basket and have to endure the full manual cycle – including the ironing.

After the Beer Brain, comes the Beer Ego. The Beer Ego transforms you into the greatest person who has ever lived – all it takes is a little more beer. Suddenly, when the Beer Ego detonates, you are the world’s greatest dancer, the world’s greatest conversationalist and the world’s most attractive person – all rolled into one. You can do no wrong. Eyes turn whenever you hit the dance floor and every member of the opposite sex wants to have your babies.

What about this poor fella?

Yes - that is me under the influence of the Beer Ego playing my guitar to the Drifters at New Year.

And, of course, there are the Beer Goggles that help you to select an equally attractive mate. The most hideous creature known to man can in an instant become the most attractive person on the planet:

Somebody once told me that Beer Goggles help ugly people get partners. It clearly didn’t work in my case, because Mrs PM really is lovely (mind you – I think she wears her Beer Goggles permanently).

Anyway, having solved the world’s problems with your Beer Brain, charmed everybody with your Beer Ego and used your Beer Goggles to grab yourself a date with a member of the opposite sex, it is now time to go home.

The amount of beer it takes to activate the Beer Brain, Beer Ego and Beer Goggles does take its toll and here, dear reader, is where the final evolutionary miracle occurs. You have two choices:

(1) The Homing Device – this is a built in six sense that somehow manages to inform your addled brain that you have, perhaps, consumed just a little bit too much alcohol. This fabulous mental device guides you in the direction of the exit, fending off all cries of “You can’t go yet, Dave,” with a dismissive wave of the hand and a heartfelt “OMGUWINUM”. This ingenious evolutionary part of your brain can direct you out of the pub or club and start you off on your way home. Mind you, it isn’t totally dependable, in which case a second ingenious evolutionary advancement comes into play:

(2) The Beer Scooter – The problem with the Beer Scooter is that nobody knows exactly how it works. The Beer Scooter is a miracle. Why?

(a) The Beer Scooter obtains fuel automatically (usually in the form of a large Donner Kebab).

(b) The Beer Scooter gets you home, no matter how much cash you have left after your night out on the town. Some sceptics say that taxis or The Nutty Bus are involved – but I don’t buy it.

(c) The Beer Scooter not only gets you to your front door; it gets you in the house, undressed and into bed. Some advanced humans sometimes even find that the Beer Scooter has provided water to help minimise the inevitable cost of your depraved evening.

So there you have it, dear reader; my theory of evolution due to alcohol and in the past, I have taken advantage of all these evolutionary enhancements. Sadly, they have dulled with age – even my Beer Goggles have stopped working.

Alas, so has my Beer Scooter, though I have found a half-eaten Donner Kebab in the fridge on occasion so perhaps it still works - a bit.

Actually, thinking about it, why on earth would anybody put a half-eaten Donner Kebab in the fridge? If anything is going to induce a violent reaction when you have a hangover it’s going to be a cold half-chewed scraggy lump of unidentifiable meat wrapped in cardboard and covered in “all the dressings – especially the monster strength chilli sauce”.

Perhaps we are regressing back to being apes after all.

Top Ten David Bowie Songs

When the TV series “Life on Mars” appeared a few years ago, Mrs PM said “I really like the theme tune. Who is it?”

“Who is it? WHO IS IT?” I screamed almost choking on my cup of tea. “You really are a musical heathen, aren’t you? It’s the legendary David Bowie.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I’ve heard of him. I love Let’s Dance.”

“This is before Let’s Dance,” I said.

“I didn’t know he’d done anything before Let’s Dance,” she replied causing me to splutter yet more tea onto my lap.

I then lectured her on the finer points of early David Bowie music and urged her to listen to it because, in my humble opinion, Bowie was at his peak in the 1970’s and the album Let’s Dance was a disappointment for me. Don’t get me wrong; I quite like the album but it proved to be the beginning of the end of my love of his music.

I have caught some of his material since then but with the odd exception, I have lost interest.

Nevertheless, the purpose of this post is to resurrect some of his legendary music as I offer you, dear reader, my favourite ten songs by David Bowie. You may have heard some of them; some may be familiar to you, others may not. Either way, they are worth hearing.

To be honest I really struggled to get the list down to ten because bubbling under are a whole bunch of other brilliant songs. If your favourite isn’t in the list, you can be sure that it is just below.

And to my sweet Mrs PM – when you read this post, please click on the YouTube links and listen because if you like Life On Mars you will love them.

10. I’m Afraid of Americans

This is (relatively speaking) a recent song from 1997. I stumbled across the song while searching for some information about Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails fame and was absolutely astounded to find a collaboration between him and David Bowie. I love Trent Reznor and the fact that he was involved with Bowie is something so delicious I had to have a look. The result is a superb song with a fabulous video, featuring Trent Reznor himself as a menacing stalker. These guys should definitely work together again.

9. Ashes To Ashes

The album Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) is David Bowie’s last great album and my favourite (with Aladdin Sane coming a close second). Just about every song is a masterpiece and Ashes to Ashes is a timeless classic. It brings back vivid memories of my time at university and that is one of the many appealing factors. And of course, the video itself is a bit of a landmark. We all wondered what happened to Major Tom, didn’t we?

8. Life On Mars

This one is especially for Mrs PM and, thankfully, it also makes my top ten. It is a truly great song that has an epic quality that never fails to move me. It must be good if both me and Mrs PM like it, particularly given our totally dissimilar musical tastes. Check out the blue eye make-up in the video.

7. John, I’m Only Dancing

Now this is a strange song to make the top ten. For some reason the tune appeals to me. I don’t know whether I’m alone here but I think it is a catchy song with an infectious chorus that really makes me want to sing along with it. Or am I just weird? Don't answer that question.

6. Panic In Detroit

The very first David Bowie record I bought was Aladdin Sane and it is still one of my favourites. The album features Panic In Detroit, which is a fabulous song with a magnificent beat and amazing guitar work. It is almost worthy of an air guitar session.

5. Loving The Alien

This a bizarre song but one that I love. It was released in 1985 and I first spotted it on a late night music show. As strange as the song and the video are, again it has an epic quality that appeals to me. Essentially it is a pop song with a twist and I like that.

4. Shapes of Things

The second Bowie album I bought was Pin Ups which features covers of various songs from the late 1960’s. The song was originally recorded by The Yardbirds. In fact, I also have a version of the song recorded recently by Rush, my favourite band. Nevertheless, this version by Bowie is the best of the three – and that is massive praise considering how much I love Rush.

3. The Jean Genie

At the age of ten I was just beginning to take notice of music. I distinctly remember hearing The Jean Genie for the first time and I loved it. I used to wander around the house singing the crazy chorus having no idea what they meant: “The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks”. What does that mean? Who cares. This is the song that got me into David Bowie and it is the reason I bought the album Aladdin Sane. It deserves its spot at number three for that reason alone - and it is a fabulous song.

2. Starman

I love Starman. It is one of those songs that has a great sing-along chorus, while at the same time sending a massive shiver down your spine. It is a truly great pop song.

1. Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)

The best song from the best album had to be number one. The title track of Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) is a weird and menacing song, and at the same time extremely catchy. I’m sure there are some of you out there who disagree with me on this. I can’t really explain why I love this song – I just do. David Bowie produced some really weird songs with even weirder lyrics and the appeal of all of those songs is packaged perfectly in this one tune. I can’t say any more than that – I love it.

Actually, I have found it very refreshing to plough through my Bowie collection and it has perked my interest again. There are so many other great songs, like Rebel Rebel, Ziggy Stardust, China Girl and Heroes to name but a few. And I am sure that some of his more modern material is worth more than just a passing interest.

I think I might delve into the world of Bowie again, if nothing else, just to remind me what a great artist he is.