Teenage drivers

(She drives a) Clio (Audio file)
To the tune of Duran Duran's 'Rio'

Lyrics:
Bombing down the M4 now babe, you’re doing eighty-eight
Pedal to the floor yeah, I suppose you must be late?
With one hand on the wheel and one hand on your phone
You’re listening to Kanye West
You think you’re something special and you think your car’s the best

She drives a Clio, ‘cos it’s all she can afford
Her Mummy bought it for her though she’s twenty four
Eight speeding fines and a dent inside the door
Wants to drive a Beemer but she couldn’t get insured

I’ve seen you in Asda and I’ve seen you in Somerfield
Seven-teen inch alloys and your bright pink steering wheel -
I’ll never be seen with you
You drive your car so badly, and it’s a French one too

She drives a Clio, ‘cos it’s all she can afford
Her Mummy bought it for her though she’s twenty four
She can never park it and she steers it oh so bad
She’s such a teenage driver
And she takes after her dad…

Petrol

Every time I go to the petrol station I have to mentally double check which side the cap’s on. Does anyone else do this? You’d think after, let's say, a fairly considerable number of visits to petrol stations I’d remember. But obviously none of us wants to get it wrong and have to haul the pump over the car while we stand there nonchalantly as if to say 'well I like a challenge. What's your point?' Or worse still, find that the pump doesn’t in fact reach to the other side of the car, in which case we have to get back in the car as if we’ve just remembered that, erm, we didn’t actually need petrol anyway.

For some reason every time we fill up with petrol it has to be an even number though doesn’t it? Whether it’s exactly thirty pounds, or exactly thirty litres. If the pump clicks full at 29.78, we will it on to reach 30, even if petrol’s practically spilling out by this point in protest. I must have a round number! Come on!

Obviously if you misjudge this fine art you end up going to the till shamefaced. £30.02? I’m sorry, I slipped.

People like to have petrol price competitions I've noticed. It's like the new 'weather conversation':
'Petrol's up again'
'I know! I saw a 95. 9 today'
'95.9? I saw a 98.9 only last week'
'You're joking?'
'I know, Bloody ridiculous.'

And if we've got time we'll drive round to a petrol station that's maybe 2pence cheaper, even though it only saves us about 50p overall. Which we'll then probably spend on a chocolate bar. So, all in all, completely pointless.

Ruins

A father mourns the progress of society to his son:

'I remember when there used to be tennis courts here, yes, and astroturf. Now look at it! You see where that wall is? That used to be the back wall of an indoor football pitch. I know! There was a whole leisure centre here once, a gorgeous place. No trace of it now of course. Some of the original paving is still there I believe though. They say this sunken garden used to be an Olympic size swimming pool. The lifeguard would have sat somewhere over by those azaleas. Yes, just beyond the geraniums.

Those high walkways up there (their proper name escapes me for the moment) would have been used as viewing galleries for squash matches back then, although the squash courts themselves were knocked down. You'd hardly believe it now. Apparently a large number of tennis and squash balls were found in the grounds and are preserved in cabinets. The beautiful underground parking network remains, but is no longer accessible to the public. Such a shame. It's hard to imagine what it would have been like isn't it? I can’t imagine what this hole in the wall was for either. Some say there was an ATM there once, but I’m not so sure.

Sickening isn’t it? A flourishing leisure centre like that. And some prince has only gone and built a bloody great castle on it.'

Passport Photos

Have you seen the criteria for passport photos? ‘Face forward’ it says. Yes, that would seem sensible enough so far. Then: ‘Must be taken within the last month’. Again, logical enough. Do they expect someone to send in a school photo?! (‘What do you mean this isn’t me? This is exactly what I looked like when I was 9, how dare you!’)

But then we come to ‘No grinning, no frowning, no raised eyebrows’. ‘No raised eyebrows young man’, as if we’re small children being cocky in the schoolroom.

What we need is a ‘completely neutral expression with your mouth closed’. ‘Yes, that’s right closed, young man, I don’t know what’s funny about that!’ So basically they mean ‘act and look completely expressionless’. Lovely.

And then it says the photo should be a true likeness. Surely no one is, in practice, completely expressionless. People at airports, where, let’s face it, the majority of us will be using these passports, are rarely completely expressionless. There’ll be smiles, tears perhaps. Not 'completely neutral expressions with mouths closed'.

What the criteria should say is ‘look like you would look at an airport’. Petrified (will the plane crash), sad (will I see her again), worried (will I see the kids again), hungry (will I have time for lunch).

Today, you see people now heading to passport control thinking, ‘right, I must look depressed, I must look like my passport’. Women are thinking ‘How am I going to get my hair like that? What was I thinking! Just look depressed, everything’ll be fine…’

Previously people must have been a bit cocky with their photos I reckon, smiling just a little bit too much. At the passport office, officials would go ‘that’s fine, that’s fine, oh no now that’s too smiley’

They tried measuring smiles –
‘smile like you’re slightly amused, as if you’ve just remembered a funny thing that happened to you last Tuesday morning at work’ – Acceptable
‘smile like you’ve just won the lottery, a free holiday and a month off work’ – Not acceptable

But no they thought, this is too difficult. ‘Right, that’s it, no one must smile. Everyone must look the same with expressionless faces, face forward, yes face forward, come on’

But then right at the very bottom is a little aside: ‘rules are relaxed slightly for children under five. They…do not need to have a neutral expression’. Phew.

I bet that I could sue you under finance law

A paean to our money-grabbing, sue everyone you can society. To the tune of Arctic Monkeys's 'I bet that you look good on the dancefloor'
Finance law audio file

'Stop shaking your thighs at me, I'll be claiming assault from you
And as my lawyers advise me, I've got my rights and I should sue
Cos I'll claim it's invasion (your hand on my groin)
Though on this occasion (there's fire in my loins)
You won't buy me Rio cos I swear you've a plan
That buying me booze might result in a bang, b-b-bang go!

I bet that I'll sue you under Tort law
I don't know if we'll fight it in court or...we could just fight on the floor
But I bet that I'd have you under Tort law
Using a frivolous law suit prop page eleven, clause number ten part four
Subsection 84!

Then he started pawing me, cos I was legging it up the stair
Hundred pounds, yeah, I'm suing 'im cos I weren't expecting it to be there
I'll claim compensation (as much as I can)
Accept no explanation (but maybe a grand?)
He drives a green Clio cos he wrote off his Ford
And fighting a bruise is result cos the car's not insured so

I bet that I'll sue you under finance law
I don't know if I'll take cash advance or I'll see how much I can sue you for
I said I'll get that cash (you would), it's disgraceful
By referring to a precedent prop like Blue Peter's 'Here's one I made before'
Way back in '84!'

Dieting 1

(From a university sitcom draft. Three housemates are in the lounge, mostly watching TV but perhaps half-heartedly with work beside them. There are two guys (Dave and Hugo) and one girl (Ryanne) – who is the very chilled out sort. Isabel, far more image-conscious, enters in drainpipes and looking a little gaunt.)

Dave: Who who gave you permission to go emo on us?

Isabel: I’m dieting

Hugo: What on earth for? (is happily munching his way through a packet of hobnobs)

I: Partly cos have you seen the weight I’ve put on?

They all exchange glances, pause, wondering what the best answer is, then simultaneously:

um well, now you mention it, maybe just a tiny bit

I: And partly cos basically all that’s left in the house is a can of baked beans

H: Shotgun! (gets up and leaves the room)

R: What do most students eat?

D: Erm…mostly crème eggs, baked beans, pot noodle and strongbow…

I: So we’re doing well then (a little sarcastically)

R: You can’t eat pot noodle, it’s not good for you

D: (defensively) Hey I’m still the picture of health….right? (there is a telling pause)

R: You want healthy stuff like nuts (brings out bag, passes it round. It still has a price tag on it)

I: (reads) May contain traces of nuts. Well I should hope so. You spent £5 on something that might have a trace of nuts in?!

R: Maybe that’s like our meal last Sunday – may contain traces of roast dinner

D: That’s what you need Iz, just the smell of food, for serious dieters. Maybe you could spray it on.

R: Eau de parmesan…mmm.

(Hugo re-enters)

D: So what are you going to eat then? In fact what are we going to eat now Hugo’s just eaten the baked beans?

H: Come on guys, we must be able to rustle up something. Let me do the food, and you worry about eating it

R: Oh we will.

H: Hey, my cooking’s not that bad (pause)

D: Last time you cooked dinner you said let’s napalm it to cook it quicker

H: I was hungry!

D: Are you joining us Iz?

I: Nah…I’ll read Vogue instead

R: Dinner or Vogue? (puzzled)

I: I feel Vogue feeds me more (she tosses her hair and exits)

D: Wow. That was weird.

R: Maybe she’s depressed

H: Well I would be if I wasn’t eating dinner.

D: Fair play in a way though. I tried to go the gym last week. Got worn out before I got there. That’s a bit depressing.

R: When I’m a bit depressed, I just get out a knife….and cut a nice big slice of cake.

H: I could do with a bit of cake

D: This is the last hobnob, guys (reaching into the packet)

H: Toss you for it

D: Rather you didn’t thanks!

Dieting 2 (song)

University sitcom's Hugo contemplates Isabel's dieting regime and tries to plan his own...to the tune of George Michael's 'Faith'

'Cake' audio file

Lyrics:
Well I guess it would be nice, if I could eat some sugar
You know I really would...if I had a body like you
But I gotta think twice, if I wanna get me thinner
I just ate six dinners
And a tirimasu

I need to lose some of my pork pies
It's time to pick my feet up off the floor
And when that weight comes down from off my thighs
Well I'll be happy baby right now I find it such a chore...

Cos I wanna eat cake, I gotta have cake...

You say you're going to the gym, but you don't need to get thin
You're not even a size 10
You're example I will follow, I'll exercise tomorrow
But in two hours time I'll be thinking again

I have this craving for chocolate cheesecake
Bakewell tarts that are meant to be for four
I really want some sweet Pavlova
Madeira, Eccles, Jaffa
I can't take it any more!

Cos I wanna eat cake. I gotta have cake.

Check out

Once the checkout assistant and I had exchanged a cursory greeting, the battle commenced. She was beeping the items through at the speed of light and I was trying to pack them equally quickly. No one wants the embarrassment of hearing her say 'That'll be £10.23 please' and still having shopping to pack. The humiliation! The next person's shopping is already being beeped through, they're concerned they're going to receive the same humilation, and you look like a fool with poor organisational skills as you hurriedly throw a 6 pint bottle of milk onto your neatly packed tomatoes and stuff a soon-to-be concave loaf of bread next to some frozen pizzas even though you're sure frozen food should be in a bag by itself. The humiliation!

Everyone wants to avoid this happening. Some people even deploy tactics by positioning their shopping stategically on the conveyor belt. Some people can no longer face doing a big shop for fear of failing this battle and limping out the shop with a couple of half full bags and various groceries haphazardly in their arms, pocket and mouth.

Some time can be gained by taking as long as possible with your bank card, or by having money ready. Old people, I've noticed, never prepare any form of payment in advance. Once the total's been announced it seems to occur to them for the first time they might actually need to pay as they root around for a purse or wallet, possibly asking '£10.23 did you say dear?'

Having said that, it's only the opposite of my own personal game of 'guess the price', like those 'guess the number of sweets in a jar' at school, where I estimate my total before it's announced, usually underestimate, and then win what I've just paid for.

Sometimes we try to be helpful/annoyingly clever by saying 'would you like the odd 23p?' Of course they would, otherwise you'd only be paying them ten pounds. Which would be underpayment. Sometimes it's a really complicated battle of mathematical wits though:
'That'll be £4.47 please'.
'Here's £10.07...so you can give me £5.60 change right?'
'Erm...I guess so'
'Or better still, how about I give you £9.97?'
'What?!'

In reality though, the only way to win the checkout battle is to throw in a couple of unusual fruits and veg. 'Starfruit? What's the price of that?! Come on come on, I'm losing time...' Or alternatively, hope that you've got a rogue item which refuses to beep. For, as we all know, every item that refuses to beep seems to have a manual entry code which is at least 103 characters long.

Gig-goers

I love the different sorts of people you see when you go to gigs. There are usually three general types: the one who does absolutely nothing, the one who goes completely nuts, and the one who moves their head, but absolutely nothing else.

The first type is almost too cool for gigs and spends most of the time sipping a pint, probably leaning on the bar or at the side. For them a gig is a visual experience only. If the band asks everyone to step forward, they'll think 'I'm not taking orders from you, you're here to entertain me'. Also the sort of person who, if someone crowd-surfs, will think 'well I'm not helping you, you should have thought through the consequences before you got up there. Now get out of my vision you fool.'

The person who moves their head but nothing else is a step up from this, someone who feels like they have to do something. For all you know, they might be tapping their feet as well, but amid the crowd it's imperceptible. All you can see is their head moving in time with the beat as if they're attempting some sort of weird cuckoo clock or chicken impression or simply about to violently throw up.

The third type doesn't care what anyone thinks and is all over the place, shaking their hair, arms, legs, other people....their eyes are often shut as they become 'one' with the music, or alternatively they're shouting lyrics (mostly wrong) at the top of their voice and pointing indiscriminately in the air like some over-eager schoolboy/girl. The sort of actions that, if there was no music or crowd around, you'd be very very scared of. At a larger gig they'll probably be leaning over the barrier like a frenzied animal trying to escape a zoo.

Any one of these three will be standing directly in front of you at a gig. One of them will always be at least seven foot tall.

Music genres

I saw advertised on a club night's poster today the styles Jackin House, Electro House, Dirty House, Fidgit House, Deep House, Progressive House, Tech House, Tribal House, Old Skool House, Acid House...

Enough house there? If they slipped in 'detached house' or '5 bedroom house' in the middle would we notice? What's going on here?!

Basically any 'inspiring' or 'active' word in front of the word 'house' creates a new genre. Imagine you're mucking around on the keyboard...'I will call this music Dark House, Renegade House...Dungeon House'. See, it works.

(If you don't believe me, 'darkcore', 'darkstep', 'neurofunk', 'drill and bass' and 'intelligent drum and bass' are all subgenres of the 'oh-too-ordinary' drum and bass)

Acid is obviously code for 'psychedelic' and appears in front of every music genre in the world - Acid House, Acid Jazz, Acid Rock...Acid Soul perhaps, or is that a bit of a contradiction? Soon songwriters will feel it's become too cliche...'we'll have to call this 'Citric Acid House...or maybe Battery Acid House...or maybe flip the spectrum and call it Alkaline House...yeah, that'll confuse them'.

Some genres are a bit misleading though. Jungle, usually 'a dense forest in a hot climate' (Wikipedia) is also drum and bass (which isn't actually one drum and one bass guitar as you'd forgiven for thinking). I see what they did there...actually no I don't.

It looks like probably any word would make a genre these days. Dancehall, lounge jazz, house, garage...how about shed? kitchen rock? loft conversion soul?

Or if grime's the new genre of the 2000's, how about 'dirt', 'filth', 'that-sweaty-feeling-when you've just been for a run...music'.

So next time you're describing a band's style, say something along the lines of 'oh, well it's a little bit funk, jazz, jazz-funk, funky jazz-funk, liquid funky-jazz-funk...with a bit of old skool futuristic niche groove liquid house'. Easy.