THE ODD CAST: audio idiocy

SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEES: the iconic silver screen monsters of idiocy

So I'm in my local branch of Tescos loading my basket with Wagon Wheels, Discos, Space Raiders, Pez Dispensers, Hula Hoops, Sherbet Dip Daps, Iced Party Rings and enough ingredients to make some seriously good toasties (ham, egg, cheese, marmite ...). But as I walk up to the till I sense that something has gone seriously wrong.

It appears Tescos have hired The Creature From The Black Lagoon to do the night shift.

And its name is 'Sharon'.

The creature regards me for a long moment. Something very close to intelligence flickering behind its dead eyes. Slowly and with great effort it begins to speak, opening its thick lips in a hideously strangled attempt at communication.

'D'you need help with packing?'

'No thank you' I say, giving it what I hope is a placating smile 'I'm sure I can marshal my faculties sufficiently to take on the enormous task of putting groceries into plastic bags. After all, I didn't educate myself to degree standard in order to go about balancing produce on my head or pathetically resorting to sellotaping it to my upper body and torso after failing to unlock the mysteries of your carrier bag system.'

This does not go down well with the creature. My botched attempt at levity seems to anger it still further and it flares its nostrils in a way that makes me afeared for the safety of nearby womenfolk. I decide to change the subject.

'Buy one, get one free on the Iced Party Rings, I notice'

The creature ignores me, the full weight of its bestial cognitive capacity employed in the task of dragging various items over the barcode scanner. But somewhere deep down inside its powerful body a growl has begun that is so low frequency I can feel it vibrating my internal organs. I decide now would be a good time to concentrate intently on a display of 25% off electric toothbrushes.

The rest of the transaction passes without incident except for the fact that I can't get everything into the bags and end up holding some of it in my teeth. The creature takes my money, presses some buttons at random as if to see what they might do and then gives me an approximation of the correct change.

'Fhank choo' I manage through teeth clenched around a variety pack of Monster Munch, before turning smartly on my heel and running for my life.

One can only wonder at the wisdom of hiring iconic silver screen monsters to tend to late night shoppers but I guess we have to presume that it makes some sort of sound financial sense. Thinking about it I'm sure I saw a Triffid behind the deli counter and Mecha-Godzilla having a fag by the delivery entrance.

Strange times.

ON THE BUS: a journey into idiocy

Now this may come as a surprise but ordinarily I'm a mild mannered kind of fellow. I wouldn't say boo to a goose. Unless the goose had specifically asked me to (perhaps to cure a fit of hiccups). But if there was going to be one thing, one insidious, pointless, idiotic cultural tic that would one day see me snap like an atrophied elastic band, grab the nearest blunt/sharp/radioactive object and start swinging away like Babe Ruth in a cloud of bees, it's this - people on public transport who play their music through mobile phone speakers.

Where do I start? How do I begin to vent this tumour of pent-up hatred, this blood-boiling, gut-churning tidal wave of vitriol I have backed up inside me? What do I want to say to you, denizen of the back seat, ensconced inside your tattered hoodie, pustulant boils flung carelessly across your face with the lackadaisical air I have no doubt is applied to every area of your worthless, irritating life?

Well firstly I want to say, get some semblance of musical appreciation. If we have to listen to your music, if it truly is our sad lot in life to watch you play the moronic DJ to your toxic-looking mate in the seat opposite you, then at least let that music be vibrant or thoughtful or experimental or life-affirming. What we don't want to hear is querulous, mewling cretins spewing the musical equivalent of the Ebola virus over our quivering ear holes. We'd rather not listen to the preschool ramblings of a bigoted, closed-minded, no talent, bottom feeding Nazi Media Whore just because it has a semi-rhythmic beat behind it, thank you very much.

Of course such considerations are rendered null and void because you're playing the aforementioned musical aberration on POSSIBLY THE SINGLE WORST AUDIO PLAYBACK DEVICE IN THE UNIVERSE. When I was 4 years old I had a plastic record player made by Tomy that had better fidelity than that carcinogenic box of wires you clutch in your grubby paw. Seriously, dude, it sounds like a group of crickets are conducting a rave in a match box. And just because you're mindlessly bobbing your head along to the white noise like a life-sized meat marionette whose operator is having a seizure, it doesn't mean we're suddenly going to recognise it as music.

You dead-eyed, unthinking, arrogant, attention-seeking, TURBO GIT.

Thank-you. That's put off the stroke for another few years I reckon.

DRAMA STUDENTS: the gibbering monkeys of idiocy

I can still feel the blood pounding in the back of my head. My hands have been balled up into fists for so long I’m finding it difficult to type and I have a series of crescent shaped marks in the soft flesh of my palm left by my own fingernails. My eyes are bloodshot, my jaw is cramping and my teeth have been ground down to powder.

This morning I had the ‘pleasure’ of sharing my commute to work with three young actors from an esteemed drama school. These charming individuals spent the entire 20 minute bus ride complaining loudly in identical, theatrical automaton voices about every single other person on their acting course. No stone was left unturned in their seemingly eternal quest to root out every glitch, every weakness, every wrong inflection and mispronunciation in their colleagues’ performances.

“Did you see Rachel’s attempt at Juliet in her showcase? You know some people just can’t cope with classical texts, I don’t know what they were thinking giving it to her. It’s such a gift of a role and she does nothing with it."

This kind of talk went on for the duration of my time on the bus. Discussed clearly and unashamedly for everyone to hear. Each of their friends were considered in turn before being summarily dismissed; picked apart and dissected using the blunt tools of a theatrical vocabulary cannibalised from A-level Theatre Studies set texts and applied with all the finesse of Neanderthal man learning to cross-stitch. What utterly contemptible morons. Not once did they turn the dim spotlight of their 2-watt critical facilities on themselves. In fact, as far as they were concerned, and by some astronomical coincidence, we, the humble bus-riding travellers of London, were luckily enough to be sharing our morning commute with the only three perfect exponents of theatrical technique that the world had ever seen. Even within the group a vile game of one-upmanship was being played out, with passing allusions to their own genius dropped in among the general vitriol, poison and unthinking crap they were spouting. All topped off with the pathetic caveat ‘Of course I love the girl but…’ as if this would make the whole insidious conversation any more palatable.

I hate this aspect of theatre. I hate the bitchiness, the insecurity, the need to beat down others to make yourself feel talented. What’s the point? Surely theatre is a collaborative art form which benefits immeasurably from a tight, supportive company intent on making each other look good? Those idiots on the bus haven’t even finished their training and they’re already well schooled in the cowardly art of two-facedness. Do drama schools now teach Bitching as a module alongside Stage Combat and Lecoq?

Of course there’s a twist in the tail and it’s one that I’m aware means I lose the moral high ground forever. Because by another astronomical coincidence I’d seen that trio of actors before. At a series of showcases at a local theatre.

And they were shit.

BIGOTS & THE MEDIA: the ignorant theophobia of idiocy

bill bailey is currently doing a couple of nights at the riverside studios, a 'pre-stadium tour' testing out some new material with small audiences before cradling it in front of big crowds. probably a good plan with his particular brand of dungeons & dragons garden shed based whimsy that much of his comedy is themed upon.

he is a very funny man. i did laugh at him muchly; to that point where your face becomes painful and it's better to stop laughing or you might sprain a face-muscle. you will not be able to guess where i'll head eventually with this blog.

my two favourite observations were these:

from the killers song all these things that i've done a section sees them repeating the phrase "i got soul, but i'm not a soldier." nice little phrase that, but made up of two meaningless things that are completely disconnected. you might as well say "i've got ham, but i'm not a hamster."

i thought "i've got a badge, but i'm not a badger"

secondly, bill talked about george bush (an idiot beyond idiocy who will one be shredded on the idiot register). quite a lot actually. he appears to have had a recent switcheroonie with his focus and rather than basing all his comedy on owls and the west country and wooden panels, has become a lot more political. he described president bush leading america as something "pointless and harmless and stupid on top of a much more dangerous thing" . . rather like a bobble hat on a leopard. or a tanktop on a scorpion.

this bought up the point that america is starting to teach creationism over evolution in schools, which very quickly led to a debate about a book called the god delusion which seeks to disprove the existence of god and the pointlessness of religion. bill sought to get audience members to shout out summaries of the book, probably hoping for something like: the god delusion contends that a supernatural creator most likely does not exist and that belief in a god and religion, qualifies as a delusion, which the writer defines as a persistent false belief held in the face of strong contradictory evidence.

"christianity is stupid!" called out a drunk woman in front of me, helpfully.

i thought i'd paid for a comedy show, but in another situation i would've perhaps said "anyone who spends enough time and energy researching with a specific point and direction and a talent for the written word could probably write an intellectual book that encourages it's reader to believe every word, polarising their opinion and closing their mind to any other alternative. rather than creating a readership that is accepting of other opinions and ideas, he creates a group of people that are completely unnecessarily militant in their anger against anyone who happens to disagree."

that reminds me of something. =>


see, i told you you wouldn't guess where i was heading with this.

i've written about this subject before, but the down point of last night's gig has incensed me somewhat to comment on the idea again. you see, this book is one of the culprits that joins a long list of sources that cause way more problems than they supposedly seek to solve. it's a trend of the media to exclude religion and people of religion, to turn the average responder against the idea of faith. religious people are publicly displayed to be freaks, or idiots, or dangerous. in modern times, the latter is an easy portrayal and probably sells you a lot of books or airtime.

what annoys me is the focus on the fraction of religious people that are freaks or idiots or dangerous, the reason being "because it's good telly." the normal person with faith, 99.9% of christians, muslims, jews etc. are harmless and reasonable and just living out their life in a way that makes them happy and comfortable. but there's no point in writing a crime thriller about andrew macintosh who has a wife and two kids, has never raped or abused anyone, never committed murder or any acts of terrorism but does run a church hall youth club every saturday and takes his family to church on a sunday morning before going to his mum's house for roast lunch.

here's a question for you: the 0.01% of human beings who are freaks, idiots or dangerous.... where would you rather they were?
a)within a social community (religious or otherwise) who are most likely trying to help them and guide them towards a more reasonable life outlook, possibly seeing they have psychological disorder and seeking out specialist help.
b)at home, alone and unmonitored with only their damaging psyche for company.

thought so.


islamic fundamentalism is to islam
as the ku klux klan is to christianity

whatever you believe about religion, the truth is that the vast majority of people with faith are not militant and angry and seeking to destroy everyone else. they're just living with a quiet respect for their god, with a comforting feeling that there is something looking over them who has a bigger plan that we as humans can never comprehend. i'm pretty comforted by that. it's my belief that is the truth. that's what helps me live my life as a good person. but i'm not you, you probably have a different way of doing it and that doesn't bother me in the slightest, as long as your aim is to be a good person. if your aim in life is to be an arsehole we probably won't get along very well, and i won't feel any kind of loss at that.

unfortunately, there is a huge cross section of society that read, see or hear something and instantly believe and accept it without considering their own beliefs, the beliefs of the people around them or any additional research or evidence around the subject. these people watch the news and accept it as the whole truth and nothing but the truth. even bbc news, with it's aim of indifference and unbiased reporting can only broadcast a portion of the events of the world. if you don't believe me, try and summarise the entire iraq war in three minutes... go! it becomes a sort of "me tarzan, you jane" reporting.

"israel good, palestine baaad."

i'll finish with an analogy:

three people are blindfolded, led to an elephant and encouraged to touch it. the first is a christian. he says that the thing he feels is long and muscular and bendy so it must be some sort of large snake.
the second - a muslim - says he feels something wide and vertical and round with a rough surface. it must be a tree.
the third is an agnostic. he feels a solid surface with a rough texture but from where he's standing he can't feel any edges or get the idea of what shape the thing is.

there is a fourth person. he's an atheist, but he's in a different zoo and there aren't any animals there.