Tony Hawk, and all the proof I need.

As a man with a well-documented historic inherent inability at anything involving balance, co-ordination and skill, I have learned to avoid such ventures.

I had a brief mid-life crisis around the age of 15, when I realised that I had spent my previous teenage years being a bit of a bookworm and an academic. It was in this time that I began my ill-fated attempt to learn to skateboard.

Spurned on, I think, by the Tony Hawk's skating games, in which a novice needs only press the X button to ollie seven feet into the air without a care in the world, I thought it would be a good idea to break with tradition and try something a little more rebellious.

(Note here that it seems odd that these days, the most rebellious people I know, who, for example, speak out against the government and injustice, are actually just those who were intelligent and worked hard academically. Most of the "rebels" from my youth have taken the seemingly rather tried-and-tested formula of rebelling of: getting a girl pregnant, leaving her when realising the actual workload involving in raising a child, and then attempting to recapture their youth by constantly complaining about work [even though it's probably the only reason they have any friends] and spending all of their free time drinking and taking drugs. Ooh, you rebels. Rebelling just like everyone else.)

Anyway, so I tried to learn to skate.

But I failed.

Tony Hawk had given me a false sense of the amount of dedication merely involved for a teenager just to "go along" to any reasonable level. I also fear that my ever present fear of injury was only magnified by the fear of looking like a prat.

This is one of histories lessons for me:

Adventurous sports, Dave, that require genuine practice and ability, are best left to those who are fueled only by adrenaline and/or weed.

So why then, why, have I caved in and decided to attempt skiing this Saturday?
I'll be venturing to a dry slope (you know, the only way you can actually ski in England) to indulge in a pursuit that I probably wont be very good at.
I've never been skiing before.
It looks lovely in the brochure. I happen to have written a lot of travel guides about all the best places to go, and the kind of fun you're supposed to have.

But I feel like there is a little bit of logic to my plan. Firstly, I can learn in this short 4/5 hour session whether or not I actually enjoy the concept of skiing. This could affect potential future holidays. You see, I'm already injecting ruthless logic.

Also, I think it is somewhat of a basic survival instinct too.

I should learn to ski.

Just in case...

Just in case I'm a secret agent on the slopes of the alps being chased by angry Russians with sub-machine guns. Using my skills which I honed on the infamous dry slopes of Mount UK, I would evade capture and maybe trick a snowmobile into driving into a tree.

In my mind, you'll notice, I have become James Bond.

I feel like in reality, my experiences on the slopes are perhaps likely to be more akin to someone like James Joyce, who would likely:

a) be confused of his obscure location
b) be overwhelmed by a sense of both fear, and futility
c) rather be sitting at home writing.

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: C

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:

C:

Cynicism

Now, I think you would be forgiven for not forgiving me for naming cyncism as my "C" of things that annoy me. I have cultivated a personality based almost entirely on cynicism (with the occasional embellishment of self-loathing, it is to be admitted), but nevertheless, induldge me.

Becuase cynicism serves no purpose at all. Well, no, it does have one purpose, and that single purpose is to look all wise and insightful when something goes wrong. Cynicism puts doubt in the minds of those who had previously been clear. It never presents a solution to a problem, it is only capable of mocking or deriding the big ideas of others.

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: B

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:

B:

Bicycles

Bicycles hold an interesting status in annoying me. No matter where they are, they piss me off.

So.

A) If I'm walking along the pavement on a nice summers day you can bet that some twat on a bike will be ignoring the rules and just riding slowly and not very well, making it difficult for me to walk, taking up too much space. Arrrghhh, nothing annoys me more...

B) ... except when I'm standing on a train and some twat who's ridden his chuffing bike to the station already gets on and jams his handlebars into my genitals and then glares at me for not making room. I've made this point before.

C) And then there are bloody cyclists on the road.
You're too slow for the road. You slow me down. You make me worry that I might accidentally hit and kill you and then I'd go to prison and potentially be molested.
Cyclists want me to be molested.

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: A

A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:

A:

A-Z Lists

I hate A-Z Lists.

Stupid pointless things. Don't even make any sense. Why would the world conveniently catalogue everything on a certain subject with 26 individually lettered options? Even trying to do this I haven't put any real thought into the consequences.

I mean there are so many things beginning with S that annoy me. I could probably roll of about 26 of them anyway. Maybe I should just do a list of 26 things beginning with S that annoy me.

Trying to do an A-Z list means that probably at some point you're going to have to use the word "xylophone", or worse "x-ray" which isn't even a real fucking word. I don't think there is anything I hate beginning with "x". I don't know what I'm going to do.

Stupid idea. 26 different things. I'm gonna get bored. I'm gonna lose interest at about C and then stop altogether at like F.

To revitalise this blog...

Welcome to the future.

This is my A-Z Index of Things That Annoy Me.

Starting with...

But I got a plan...

Plan.
There is no B.

Without context, this won't make sense, so ignore it.

I've been over it in my head so much today.
Becuase it's the kind of thing that I can only really think about.

The main problem is I quite often wonder if it's me that is being difficult.

But no, it's not, it's not my fault.
I did everything I could.

Saint Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day. As "Day"'s go it ranks for me a long way behind Boxing, my birth, and Christmas, but somewhere ahead of Independance and Mon.


Whilst I would love to spend a blog reflecting on my current personal situation, detailing my fears, angers and soul-destroying emptiness, I have instead opted for the less emotionally draining option of having a go at Valentine's Day instead.

Because it's not just the rampant commercialism, dear reader, and it's not just the love-sick sentimentality that affects people who would otherwise refer to their partner as the troublesome constraint on their freedom and parents of their semi-neglected and futureless children. No! (well, I suppose technically Yes! But! Also!...) The problem I have with Valentine's Day is the acting surprised.

Surely now, if you're going to make an overblown surprise romantic gesture then Valentine's Day is the most terrible possible day to do it. Because any other day (apart from perhaps the subsequent week after VD, because you'll just appear to have forgot) then it will be a genuine surprise that will make your partner feel good.

But on Valentine's Day it's in the back of your mind anyway. In fact it's pretty much what is least expected. A bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on any other day would be a wonderful surprise. But a bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on Valentine's Day just feels that you're doing pretty much the bare minimum in your relationship.

David Wells, Love Advisor
Relevant and practical since 2012.

Jeremy Clarkson and the Mexican Scandal

Why is it still big news when Jeremy Clarkson offends somebody?

He's an antiquated magniloquent who lumbers through his rants like some sort of scavanging dinosaur; he probably doesn't fully understand everything that's going on, but it seems like a good idea at the time. And the Top Gear audience give him a laugh.

We tolerate his stupid opinions because he is brave enough to say them out loud.

So when Jeremy Clarkson suggested that Mexican people were lazy, flatulent and fat, it can't have come as a big surprise.

Now, my point becomes a little invalidated when I say that I am a big Top Gear fan. Guilty. It's silly and it's over-the-top and it's childish, but it's still good entertainment. But I have to admit, that when Richard Hammond set up the "cars take on a national identity" line leading into Clarkson's monologue, I could already see what was coming.

And the thing is, I don't specifically object to national stereotypes being portrayed, everyone does it in comedy, and I think the whole concept about cars and national identity is an interesting one. However, the problem I think I really had with it was that it just wasn't funny.

The "Mexicans are lazy" stereotype is one that doesn't really ring true in England. It is completely an American stereotype which the Top Gear writers have decided to borrow and attribute to Jeremy. I don't know about you, but I don't see very many Mexicans in England, and certainly the concept of Mexicans being lazy is something that has only been perpetuated by American TV shows.

No, but it's true, we don't see many Mexicans in this country. They are probably all too full up on their refried beans to make the trip over... Ahaaaa you see, I was in on it all along!

Seriously, though.
In this sense, I am not so much annoyed at Jeremy Clarkson for expressing this daft "opinion" (as Stewart Lee has said "the opinions he has for money"), but rather that for some reason the writers have felt the need to talentlessly jump of the American bandwagon of stereotyping Mexicans in this way.

What can we expect next? Jeremy makes a sexist comment about all the "soccer moms" in the audience? Seriously Top Gear writers, if you are going to make crass generalisations at least have the decency to be funny.

O.J Mayo, and unrealistic expectations.

It's bloody basketball again, but only for a brief second, and only to illustrate a point.



Tropicana and a jar of Hellmann's?


This handsome young gentleman is O.J Mayo.

He is famous (aside from having a name that could substitute as a rushed shopping list) for being a professional basketball in the NBA. He plays for the Memphis Grizzlies.
O.J Mayo's career has so far been seen as a bit of a disappointment. It's not that he isn't a good player, becaue he is good, and has played well (I have heard him described as a "poor man's Kobe Bryant" [which scales nicely as a "tramp's Michael Jordan"]).
Nevertheless, he get's a lot of criticism for being not as good as he was supposed to be. When he entered the NBA, a number of people (mainly his own agent, believe it or not) heaped praises onto his ability. Scouts were describing him as a potential superstar, and a future Hall-of-Famer. He hasn't lived up to it.
Now, consensus has been drawn that while he is a good player, he will never be an amazing player. And the only reason that anyone ever thought that he could be an amazing player, was because he looks like he should be an amazing player. He has a typical NBA star-look, he's charamatic and photogenic.
I use this lenghty annecdote, firstly, to finally use that shopping list/name joke at the beginning (I've had it for ages and there has never been a suitable platform), but also to illustrate that unfair nature of attractiveness.

I don't know for sure, but I always think I am naturally kinder/more generous to people if they are attractive. I don't know if it's a conscious decision, but it certainly seems to happen, and I don't think I'm the only one. Better looking people get treated better. Us less attractive people want to establish favour with them, perhaps they will like us? Perhaps they will let us look at them a bit longer?

However, in O.J Mayo's case it has worked against him. Because he had the look of a star, he also had the expectation to live up to.

I'm sure I was going to make an actual point. But you'll have to make do with that last one. I'm tired, and that's about as good as it's gonna get.