Like a thorn in my side most mornings....

This is Duncan Blinkhorn....

I took this photo of a portrait of him in Churchill Square, Brighton. Looks like a nice bloke, doesn't he? He probably is, to be honest.

He is, however, responsible for something abhorrent, illegal, irritating and just downright dangerous.

I'm talking about the Brighton "Bike Train" which leaves the Level every morning and cycles, en mass, up the Lewes Road to the Universities. In principle, it sounds like a great idea! A large group of friends taking to their push bikes in a green initiative helping to save the planet and getting fit in the process.

It's not.

It takes place at 8:30 am on one of the busiest roads in the city. Thousands of cars, buses, bikes and lorries jostle for position on this dual carriageway to be faced with this....

At their website (biketrain.org where, incidentally, the above photo was taken from) they give a long list of safety advice...

"STAY SAFE: Staying two abreast is best, recommended in the Highway Code, as this minimises the risk from the outer lane of traffic."

I count at least four abreast in the above picture, seven abreast waiting at the traffic lights in this picture from their website:

"STAY LEGAL: We will stop at red lights. Please ride with care and attention."

I have yet to see the "Bike train" stop at a red light they can sneak through, be it pedestrian crossings or the t-junction at Moulsecoomb way.

Also, on the subject of legal, does the bike train possess a PRS certificate or broadcast licence to play their loud, obnoxious music and, while we're on the subject, exactly where did Mr. Blinkhorn get the metal traffic sign that he's converted to say "! Bike train"?

"STAY SAFE: If possible, wear hi-vis or colourful clothing"

Just like Duncan's not doing in any picture of the Bike train, preferring instead his dark green easily-blend-with-the-scenery jacket...

Basically, I think the whole thing is dangerous and misguided. How can the bike train even think it's doing the environment a favour by adding 10 - 15 minutes a day onto people's journey times, slowly moving at a walking pace in a 30 mph single carriageway because they can't get past some numpties on bikes?

It's a massive accident waiting to happen, whether that be as a result of an idiot cyclist falling off and taking the rest of the "train" with them, or just some frustrated motorist going psycho on their ass and driving a lorry through the middle of them.

I'm all for green initiatives and, if people want to cycle then great!

Just obey the law, ride in single file and let those of us who have better things to do with our mornings get to work!

Lettuce cake....

It’s said we all need balance in our lives. Bad must be countered with good, ying with yang, dark with light, Salad with cake, etc etc. This basic premise runs through most – if not all – aspects of life. Man cannot live by salad alone. Cake is required. Whilst it is advocated that we all eat healthily, who can’t resist a nice tasty cup-cake? Even though it is full of crap that we don’t need, we crave it. It has a purpose in life – to make us feel better.

The same can be said of a town. There are some places that, I’m certain, exist merely to make us feel happier. A suburban cup-cake, if you will, that we don’t need to visit. We maybe don’t even want to visit initially, but after staying a few hours we feel that we have indulged in a guilty pleasure.

Blackpool was always my guilty pleasure. A bawdy sprawl of tacky “kiss me quick” hats, quirky old trams, the “illuminations” a genuinely “fun” fair and a lot of very happy people doing exactly what they needed to do. Nobody cared! What you did in Blackpool didn’t matter - It was Blackpool! Anything you want goes, nobody’s watching. Why would they? They’re too busy with their own enjoyment to care what you’re doing.

Like it or not, towns tend to get a reputation that is near impossible to shake. Think about it – You say “Eastbourne”, “Bexhill” or “Bournemouth” and instantly you think of a haven for the elderly. “Coventry” is quite stayed and dull, whereas any town in Cornwall will usually elicit an “Alroight” and copious farmer jokes.

I visited Blackpool last weekend and I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I was. My annual fix of “cake” left me feeling very unsatisfied. Everything has changed. Not that I’m resistant to change, you understand. Life is finite and our surroundings must adapt accordingly, but Blackpool has set upon a path that is not just “change”.

Blackpool is trying to be a salad. Gone are the clanky, vintage trams. Apparently, after 125 years, it doesn’t even have a tramway any more. It has a LRRTS – A “Light Rail Rapid Transit System”. Out with the old trams originally built in the 1930s and in with the new! Sixteen brand spanking five section rail-cars built by Canadian firm “Bombardier”, the first of which was out on test when we visited and broke down. Marvellous start. A new depot, raised kerb access to pander to the DDA and the whole track has been re-layed with tarmac in-fills as opposed to paving slabs, resulting in the worlds first underwater tram network when it rains.

The Pleasure Beach now costs £45 to visit. It used to be free to wander around and you pay for the rides as and when you want to use them. Now it costs a lot of money. Rather unsurprisingly, we saw 4 people go through the gates while we um-med, ah-ed and eventually balked at the cost of going in. Ten years ago the place would have been heaving.

New sea defences, green spaces, art installations, cutting edge design-led buildings, not to mention the totally baffling “shared space” arrangement where pedestrians share the road with cars doing 30 mph towards them – Blackpool’s got the lot. I can’t help wondering why, though. It’s trying to be something it isn’t. People aren’t going to visit to see the sculptures on the sea-front. They aren’t special enough. Nor are tram enthusiasts going to clamour for a ride on a “Light Rail Rapid Transit System” that is only rapid because they’ve removed half the old tram stops. If I want to ride on an LRRTS, I’ll go to Croyden. It’s closer. Expensive theme park? Alton Towers kicks the Pleasure Beach back to the dark ages, and it’s got better parking and is more universally accessible.

Lettuce has no place in a cup-cake, Blackpool. I may be wrong, but I think you’ll realise this when it's too late…..

A traitor to my land?

"And did those feet in ancient time

walk upon englands mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God

on Englands pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine

shine forth upon those clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here

among those dark, Satanic mills?"

It looks unlikely, to be honest. Proximity issues between England and the Holy Land seem to have been the main problem, coupled with an albeit badly documented, yet pretty incoherent public transport infrastructure at the time making travelling here tricky for the Lamb of God. Had Jerusalem really been "builded" here, I'm sure Tony Robinson and his cronies at Time Team would have dug it up in the name of Channel 4 by now!

However, as a born and bred Englishman I seem to be fitted with some sort of genetic coding that deems it compulsory, upon hearing "Jerusalem" by William Blake (especially to the tune composed by Hubert Parry - see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9r81ZPHfKXU if you've never heard it. It's stirring stuff!) to shed a tear.

Despite this, yesterday afternoon someone saw fit to intone that I should be cast from these shores, never to return, and that I am not fit to even walk these lands, let alone live here. The gentleman in question had a shaved head, was wearing a red t-shirt and had three rather wobbly looking lions tattooed down his left arm. The lions were not the only part of him to wobble. His copious gut dictated a sedentary lifestyle (or late term pregnancy!) and his very demeanour seemed poised to fall over, probably due to over-consumption of alcohol.

The reason for such a sweeping and vitriolic statement from him? I had mentioned, when asked, that it was a shame our national football team had won their match and were still in South Africa for the forseeable future, rather than heading home. "Really," I hear you cry, "but weren't you just ranting about how a song makes you well up with patriotism? How could you? How dare you?"

The gentleman rolled his way onto the bus, muttering and swerving as he made his way down the aisle complaining loudly to anyone who would listen that I should be deported, arrested, executed... anything but allowed to soil his land. His beautiful land represented at the World Cup Tournament in South Africa by such legends!

On the 22nd June, the British Chancellor George Osbourne issued an emergency budget. Without going into too many technicalities, the British Government is crippled with massive debts totalling billions of pounds. At Prime Ministers questions last week it was revealed that the outgoing administration left the country in a bit of a shambles, and that HM government now owes something like £22,000 for every household in the country. That is a lot of money which is having to be recouped, public spending slashed, taxes increased and major reforms to the welfare system.

The rolling gentleman discovered a friend and sat talking to him for a while in what his inebriated mind must have thought a hushed whisper. Hence everyone on the bus heard him. It transpires that he's worried and annoyed. He announced to his friend (and therefore everyone on the bus!) that the cuts in housing benefit means that he'll struggle in the years to come, he's owed X amount in benefits because someone he knows is in the same position as him and claims that amount and he's not going to go to work as he's better off on benefits. Hence the reason he had been in the pub since before the match and was wending his way home at 6:30pm, then?

I will never understand how the success or failure of 11 men - men paid enough per week to feed a family of four for a year, yet have only managed to score 2 goals in three matches - is vital to the nation? How plastering your house in St. Georges flags is suddenly the only way to show patriotism?

I love my country. Passionately. I love her rolling hills, her understated yet breathtaking beauty. Seeing the humble pride on the faces of scarlet clad Chelsea Pensioners lined up in tribute to their long fallen comrades who died in her service. I love her Morris Dancing, cheese-rolling, town-crying idiosyncrasies, the smatter of polite applause during a cricket match on a village green. Her pomp. Her circumstance. Her diversity.

I am proud to be English, and unlike my rolling verbal assailant I will not take from her more than I need and certainly not more than I have to give. I will strive to do my utmost for this glorious nation. I wonder how many Vevuzula toting, "Roooooneeeey" chanting red shirts quaffing pints of lager down the local ale house whilst shouting incoherant insults at a television screen yesterday afternoon can say the same?

Yes, I know.
It's been ages since I posted anything, but I've got an excuse.

I've been busy.

What? I have! There's loads of things happening.

Just done a comedy course at the Komedia in Brighton, met some lovely lovely people and had a fantastic time! I'm hopefully going to go and do the 12 week course later in the year - I am determined to at least try and make it as a stand-up comic in the not too distant future.

I'm moving as well! We've got a new house in Hailsham. It's much bigger and better than our last one. It's got a driveway, garage, shed, greenhouse and a garden. It rules!

Can't wait, it's going to be brilliant!

Let's hope I don't leave it as long until the next post on here!

TTFN.

Me.,

Christmas cheer...

Right, I'm sitting in what appears to be a veritable Santas grotto of wrapping paper, tinsel and gaudy decorations which could mean one of things. Either it's Christmas or I'm trapped in Katie Prices underwear and I'm praying it's the former!

Looking at the date (23rd December) it looks like it is Christmas after all and I can cancel the emergency rescue call!

So, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Hope you get everything your heart desires or, if they aren't available at the moment, some cool stuff instead!

Will try and make sure I get on here lots in the New Year,

Me. xxxx

Thinking thoughty thought thoughts

So far, so intriguing...

In order to rub the detritus of my job firmly in my face, a gentleman called Rowan Joffe has decided to close off Eastbourne Seafront to make a little film called "Brighton Rock". Now, as some may recall this is the name of a movie made in 1947 starring the great Richard Attenborough and William Hartnell which the aforementioned Mr. Joffe has decided to take upon himself to re-write, re-set and re-make it. Which is far from necessary. Even worse is the fact that in order to film an enormous fight scene on the beach, Eastbourne is doubling as Brighton and the sea-front is closed. Thus redirecting all the traffic onto the back roads in front of my bus. It's almost as if life is rubbing it in. It's almost saying "Here is an industry in which you cannot work, even though it would probably bring you happiness. However, in order to remind you of this, the industry you crave employment with will cause traffic chaos to taunt you."

It's not as if "Brighton Rock" needs remaking. The original is incredible. Based on the incredible book by Graham Greene the original screenplay was written by (Sir) Terence Rattigan, a prolific and talented playwright and dramatist between who lived between 1934 and 1977. The screenplay for the new version has written by the aforementioned Mr. Joffe, whose pedigree is limited to the screenplay of "28 Weeks Later", a sequel to the excellent Danny Boyle movie "28 Days Later" that was described by the great Empire magazine as having "..less heart than the original...." Doesn't sound to promising really, does it?

Another film that really doesn't need remaking is Fame. The original is average at best (with three Empire stars) but directed by the great Alan Parker. With classics such as "The Commitments", "Evita" and "Angelas Ashes" under his belt, he could only manage an "average" with the source material for "Fame". What feeble chance would a man who's only ever directed for television (and even then a mere documentary about Britney Spears in Miami and a couple of programmes about Dance) stand? Kevin Tancharoen who?

On the subject of Fame, I'm trying to figure something out. I may need some help:

This is Kevin Smith. He is responsible for such great films as "Clerks" (and "Clerks II"), "Mallrats", "Jersey Girl", "Chasing Amy", "Dogma", "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" and the more recent "Zack and Miri Make a Porno". Having maxed out several credit cards to raise the $50,000 he needed to make his first film, "Clerks"on his own, he was spotted as a talented director at the Sundance Film festival and now makes what is acknowleged as some excellent cult classic films. Married to actress Jennifer Schwalback-Smith, it is easy to see why he is famous.

Stephen Fry. What to say about this genius of a man? Actor, comedian, playwright, author.... the list is virtually endless. Credits include his own comedy show "A Bit of Fry and Laurie" along with the star of "House", Hugh Laurie. A legend in his own right, film star and incredibly entertaining man. The epitome of an Englishman, it is easy to see why he is not only famous, but loved by all.

This is Peter Andre and Katie Price. He had one hit in about 1995 and she used to get her pendulous, fake breasts out for anybody who asked. They got married, split up and have about 40 children. I cannot possibly see why they are famous? They do not and cannot do anything, apart from be exceptionally annoying! Does anybody know why they may be famous?

Answers on a postcard, please. Oh, dear....

;-)

Script...

Ok, as I was saying before this retarded computer messed things up, I'm going to do something unusual.

I'm going to let you into a secret. Later this year, I'm entering a script writing competition. Leastways, I'm hoping to. The thing that is unusual, is that I'm actually going to let rip on here and share some of my ideas for the story, see what you think. Here goes.

The criteria for the script is that it must be about Eastbourne. Either set in Eastbourne, or about Eastbourne. Mine is both.

Provisionally called "If Only" (until I can think of a better title), it is a story of a man called Alfred Latham. On his 81st Birthday, he has a request. All around him he sees change, new faces, new busineses, new buildings. Every familiar he has known is no longer as it was, with the exception of one thing. His beloved wife, Rose, has recently died. His family live hundreds of miles away and never call, and he is desperate for someone familiar to talk to. Someone he has known all his life and knows will listen to him. There is only one familiar left to talk to.
The sea.
Alfred Lathams request is that he is taken to the beach and left alone for a while. As he reminisces about his life, key scenes begin to play out in his mind and on the stage behind him. Meeting his wife, problems at work and a secret that could cause a lot of trouble....

A lot of this is monologue, the audience playing the part of the ocean listening to an old mans' stories. (This is a first - never actually shown anyone anything I've written before. - hope you like!)

Alfred: ... where have "if" and "change" got us? A generation obsessed with chasing the
dreams their soft elders promised them who so readily turn to violence when those
promises aren't fulfilled. And that's to say nothing of said elders. Ridiculous old men
who would rather talk to the English Channel than go to their own birthday party. Alfie
Latham, you silly old bugger. What were you thinking? They might not have understood
you back at the home, nor even cared, but at least you wouldn't be sitting out in the
freezing cold feeling like some of imbecile sitting talking to himself on a deserted beach.
This seemed like a good idea last night.
(Pause)
Not even sure what to say now I'm here.
(Pause)
I suppose I could start by telling you about Rose. My little Rosie. Bless her. Married for
fifty-six years we were. Not a bad achievement is it? Fifty-six years. Seems like only
yesterday I met her, I can remember it so clearly.
And it hurts.
Do you know, I can remember events in my life that I wish I couldn't. Pain. Suffering.
Loss. Death of a loved one. And do you know, not all of those terrible memories
combined could ever be as painful as a fleeting remembrance of joy and happiness. I
wonder why that is?


So yeah. Little snifter for you there. Hope you like it. Oh, and I hardly need tell you that the whole thing is copyrighted to me. So ner, hands off! ;-)

anyway, that's all for now. Talk to you soon, people!

Peace, out.