Meta blogging

In China 4 in 5 people have written a blog. That’s 7 trillion blogs. Is there really that much to write about? Is life in the People’s Republic so eventful that even when the blog count reached 10 figures a marketing assistant in Xi-an still thought I love Chairman Mao very much, the world must know of this?

As more and more blogs get put out, fewer and fewer people ever actually get read. It’s like trying to tell a great anecdote at a party. The more people turn up, the more people chip in with their own stories, trying to steal the limelight away from you. As you reach the danger point of the story; the part where it’s horribly boring, but essential to the crafting of the tale, people start to lose focus. There are so many other people to listen to. People with short stories; stories told using just 3 words; stories that are just a look. But you can’t do that. You need to take your listeners on a journey of facts, context and characterisation. It all needs to be just right, but nobody listens, so you take a gun and point it at the ceiling.

BANG. I have a story, it’s really funny and you’re all going to listen.

Soon blogs will attack other blogs. You’ll be reading that piece about conceptual art involving cheese and armpit hair, when another blog throws a grenade in and kills it. You’re left with an article from Marc, from Ebbsfleet, telling you how he just like, so doesn’t get why parents drive estate cars. When I’m older I’m going to be a cool dad, drive a 2 seater and strap my kid to the roof. You don’t want to read on, but you know he’s still armed. Who knows what kind of viruses he could send your way. I heard about a computer that can bite your fingers if you type things it doesn’t like.

What’s the solution? How can a good blog find an audience? A friend of mine has experimented with his blogging. He’s blogging about blogging. Now I’ve mentioned him, I’m blogging about somebody blogging about blogging. Technically this blog is about blogging too. Blogging about blogging about blogging about blogging. I’ll have to stop; my computer has started to grow teeth.

Everybody tries to outdo each other with their topics. Blogs about travel, but travel with a fish strapped to their face. Food, but only food that can be snorted. Political inside information written by the Downing Street rat.

Maybe the way forward is boring blogging. Bogging. I have a chair. It’s wooden and made from pine. My USB is blue and I’ve lost the lid. I went to Spain on holiday. It was hot.

Bored? Write about a blog about it. This one is finished; blog done.

“I’d punch you. Punch you right in the mouth.”

Today’s difference isn’t strictly between Korea and England, rather America and England, although a night out in parts of Seoul often merges USA and Korea into one.
Show an American a room full of flowers and they’ll tell you how wonderful they look. They’ll tell you how much they love flowers, even if they don’t. You’ll end the meeting feeling good. Show somebody English the same room and they’ll ask where the coffin is.

One night in a bar in Chuncheon I had a conversation with two American guys on the topic ‘top five people you’d like to meet.’ It was full of positivity as we discussed our heroes and how they’ve shaped our lives.

On my first day back in my Oldham office a colleague asked me: “If you could punch 5 celebrities flush in the face, who would they be?”

In the spirit of national pride here is my punch list. The rules are that the punches are to the face, will not kill or leave permanent marks and they are also without repercussions, so if there’s a famous woman you dislike, fret not, punch away; it’s only a blog.

Shane Ritchie

My first answer and it was made immediately. I’m not entirely sure why I’ve always despised him. Maybe it was his smug smile as he replaced people’s stained shirts with new ones and claimed Daz did it(it takes a special kind of desperation to pick up Danny Baker’s rejected jobs). Perhaps it was the needless abuse he dished out to Peter Simon during his time as presenter of Run the Risk. More than likely though it’s because one of his boys is called Shane jnr, and another is called McKenzie Blue. Anybody who puts a colour in their child’s name is practically asking to be punched.

(Punch me, punch me right in the face)

Garth Crooks

Football is a world that’s easy to hate, and there’s plenty of punchable people. It could be Ashley Cole: “55k a week is taking the piss.”
Sepp Blatter: “Women should wear tighter shorts.”
John Terry: “I just had sex with your wife.” (lawyer’s note, this is not a genuine quote)

But all of these will feature on so many punch lists. I like to spread the wealth and so my football man is that ditherer of questions, that confuser of events that have just happened. A man whose fourth most searched for term on google involving his name is 'Garth Crooks Idiot.'

Garth Crooks (shouting): “That should never have been a red card, only ever a yellow card.”
Steve Claridge: “It was his second yellow card Garth.”
GC: “But still.”

His job started at the BBC as a post match interviewer, and it’s not hard to see why when he excels in that art with hard hitters like this:

“That was clearly the result you wanted wasn’t it?” (To a Dutch player after they’d won 3-0) or even this question made to Arsene Wenger:
“David Seaman made a phenomenal save today. Is he capable of saves like that?”

Such a poor performance in such an easy task as asking coherent questions would have most people fired, but sadly Garth has just moved further up the pecking order at the BBC and into that realm of football pundits that really shouldn’t be eating unassisted, never mind offering their insight into the game.

Imagine if a journalist was to interview a celebrity and just asked ‘You’re good, aren’t you?’ Or a doctor that asked ‘It hurts when you move your knee. Are you capable of moving your knee?’ A world full of Garth Crooks is a frightening prospect and for that reason he deserves a punch.

Chris Moyles

Chris Moyles is the peak of the Radio One Iceberg. That’s not to say I don’t want to punch him on his own merits, but in this case he’d be taking the punch for the whole of Radio One, especially the news desk.

I love the BBC. It makes me proud to be British. The website is magnificent, the shows are generally of high quality, and it shows why privatisation isn’t always the best way. Programmes get made by the BBC that don’t make money, but are quite clearly high points of our culture. Think of Blue Planet, The Thick Of It and Have I Got News For You. These are programmes that don’t insult the intelligence, that promote knowledge and are made by people at the top of their professions.

Sadly Chris Moyles and Radio One are the antitheses of these qualities. The breakfast show seems to consist entirely of Moyles talking about ‘funny things I said in the pub’ all of which have been written by producers. If there’s one thing worse than bombing, it’s bombing other people’s material. Such funny things include shouting down the microphone, referring to a ringtone as ‘gay’, introducing himself to Halle Berry as a ‘big black man,’ saying Polish people make great ‘prostitutes and ironers’, and having footballers on his show who say the word ‘faggot’ without reprimand.

Radio One news is no better. BBC news should be a bastion of impartiality and informed comment, and yet it allows Radio One to constantly follow up its new reports with opinions of the public disguised as intelligent statements, such as “James from Luton says ‘I think the floods in Pakistan are terrible.’” Really James? How informative; I may have struggled to have come to such a conclusion had I only been presented with the raw figures of 3,000 dead.

“Chelsea from Salford thinks ‘Them MPs aren’t right, they need to be sorted out.’” Fantastic Chelsea; would you like that to be implemented as a policy to tackle Government corruption? Just as simple as sort them out. If only such laws had passed but 5 years ago, think of the waste that could have been avoided.

For this and for only ever being Northern when it suits you, Chris Moyles, given the chance I would punch you full in the face.

(How has this man made money?)

Paris Hilton

To keep this blog from being accused of sexism I have decided to include a woman. Namely Paris Hilton. As a child I was well taught in the ways of the world by my father, and so I know never to trust anybody with a monobrow, anybody who wears a hat with no practical purpose and women who carry dogs in bags.

Through no fault of her own Paris sums up the worst in rich children who really don’t have a clue, and don’t really need to, because even if they flunk everything, they’ll always have money.

“All British people have plain names, and that works pretty well over there.”

No Paris they don’t, just ask Shane Ritchie.

Number 5

I do my best to make the blogging experience as interactive as possible, and because of this, and in no way due to my laziness I have left the 5th option open to public discussion. Who would you punch in the face? You get to leave a comment at the bottom and I get more dwell time on my website; it's a win win situation.

Blog away reader, blog away.

Scroats

Scroat - [scrote]
-noun
Difficult to define, but people who aren’t scroats can generally tell if somebody else is. A scroat often be seen stealing from old people, shouting at their partner when pissed or generally just doing scroaty things. Scroats often congregate into groups with other scroats. They can be indentified by a constant need to massage their testicles. They’re often seen being walked by dogs that seem intent on killing anything that crosses their paths.

My neighbour is a scroat. I know he is because when he’s drunk at weekend he calls his girlfriend a slag. I can tell she’s a scroat too because she stays with him. For all their faults scroats tend to be fairly loyal, perhaps because nobody else will hang out with them.

On my return to England I was amazed by the sheer quantity of scroats, I counted 42 outside one shop alone. Korea is mercifully free of them. There’s no sense of cool if you’re stupid in school or any sense of ‘well done’ if you’re somebody who cheats or steals.

Much like honesty and decency spreads through all walks of life in Korea, so Scroats infest English culture like rats. Footballers dive and go on strike to top up their millions, led by big time Scroat Ashley Cole. Celebrity TV shows are made to cater for them, and even political parties like the BNP exist, should they ever become inspired to vote.

One day soon they’ll be a Scroat religion with a leader who wears all white and ridiculous quantities of gold. He’ll lie, cover up crimes and blame everybody else when he’s caught.

Wait a minute ...