Avatar 2005 calling

It’s now thirteen years since I first had a phone with a camera built into it and decided that I wanted all my phone contacts to be associated with photos of that person on the phone, so when my phone rang it looked like I could see them on the phone.

Since I didn’t get pictures of anyone hanging up, I can only assume these sad, lonely ghosts of 2005 are still on the line, listening to an engaged signal, patiently waiting to talk to me.

I will not answer you, ghosts of the past. Stop calling me.

Avatar What Kevin does

So, what have we learned this week? Or it may be longer than a week. We have learned that Kevin never finished school and must be unemployed. How does he afford such a lavish lifestyle? How can he pay for an extravagant house, life and all those inhaler cups? Where does the money come from?

Thankfully, with the help of our army of scientists, we have managed to work out the answers to these questions. I was going to invent an invention (and it would have been a GOOD invention) however this was not required.

In order for Kevin to keep up appearances he follows this very strict, very organised regime:

8:00am – has breakfast, takes a couple of handy puffs from his inhaler cup, says goodbye to his wife and puts the Changlet in his car.

8:20am – drops the Changlet at nursery, where he can learn about cows, bees and other helpful things.

8:55am – waits until Sarah has left for work then sneaks back into his mansion.

9:10am – takes out his massive sack of rocks, found on the beach, and starts drawing faces on them.

10:10am – stops for a tea break to refill his levels. Drawing hilarious faces really takes it out of you.

11:00am – adds googly eyes and pipe cleaners for limbs to his Kev Rocks. Stops for a moment to take in just how much he has achieved in a few hours.

11:15am – unwraps huge hidden quantities of milk, eggs, plain flour, vegetable oil, sugar, salt, baking powder and vanilla extract.

11:30am – bakes the world’s largest waffle in his humongous back garden.

12:00pm – loads his Kev Rocks into his boot and straps the waffle to the top of his car.

12:30pm – drives to the Corn Exchange to set up shop.

1:00pm – sells chunks of his gigantic waffle to hapless tourists for five quid per bite. If you’re looking for a Kev Rock it’s upwards of eight pounds depending on the size of rock.

4:00pm – gathers all his money up and laughs manically.

4:05pm – throws the last of the waffle at dirty pigeons or, providing there’s enough, sells it to a homeless person as a tasty, makeshift mattress.

5:00pm – picks the Changlet up from nursery, dusting the shards of waffle off his hands.

5:30pm – drives home as though he’s been at a real job all day. Puts the child down and he’s straight back to the inhaler cup.

There’s not a lot to say after reading all that other than, well, maybe I should chuck my job in and do the same thing? Maybe I could take it a step further and build houses out of waffles.

Waffle house.

That is all.

Avatar Not Very Good – Food

Now then, let us all consider for a moment the best place to leave your chorizo.

Should you leave it in the fridge to preserve the flavours? Should you leave in the cupboard, in a cool, dry place? Or, and I know this seems a bit unorthodox for some people, how about outside your house, near the kerb?

As a human being, or the closest equivalent that likes stretchy trousers, I do enjoy my food. I want it tasty and I want it now. I also want it to be free from disease, infection and cat’s piss. I can imagine that the artisan who decided to leave the chorizo outside may not have realised this at the time. Yes, you may create a unique combination of flavours but if this is at the expense of the health of the people eating the food then you may want to reconsider.

We could look at this from another angle. Perhaps this isn’t edible chorizo. Perhaps this is a tiny chorizo car and the owner has parked it carefully on the side of the road. If that’s correct then the person is doing cars right and it has nothing to do with food.

I am of the opinion that it is food and it is wrong otherwise this article wouldn’t make any sense (?) I do not want your road meat. I do not want to indulge in your pretentious kerb-surfing, asphalt-touching tubes of protein. Please keep your bizarre attempts at food presentation in your houses where you can eat off the floor as much as you like.

I’m off for a burger.

Next time… Animals!

Avatar A smidge of Smidge

It’s been a few years, but Smidge Manly hasn’t been wasting his time. No, since he finished answering all your questions about railways, he’s been turning his attention to the wider world, and very soon he’ll be ready to explain some of its greatest mysteries to you, his adoring public.

His new series, Smidge on Science, is in post-production right now. In it, he’ll be exploring the four key subjects in the world of science: wind, rain, time and cars.

To whet your appetite, and to remind you again of Smidge’s keen journalistic insight and forensic questioning style, here’s an informative and valuable interview he conducted that didn’t make it into the finished series.

Avatar Episode 8: Do Bears Come in Tins?

In an exciting format twist Ian and Kev are joined this time out by Chris meaning that, for the first time, everyone who actually listens to the podcast was there when it was recorded. They all had a jolly good time discussing:

  • Even keels
  • Inner smiles and secret smiles
  • The merits of tinned fruit
  • Hooting eyes

 

 

Avatar Shoe FM

“… the time is coming up to 12:17 right here on Shoe FM, churning out the best in shoe and shoe-related music all day, every day.

As ever I am your host through the toast, Jazz Bungleton, ready and willing to satisfy your need for tweed. We can take it nice and slow or go hell for leather; whatever the occasion.

Once the mid-mid-morning news is out of the way I will be playing the pink-tastic ‘I Only Have Eyes for Shoe’ by the fantabulous Flamingoes swiftly followed by ‘Shoe to Me are Everything’ by the Real Thing, one of those toe-tappers you cannot help but get off your feet and dance to; I know I will be. Then it’ll be a triple whammy of ‘Only Shoe’ by the Platters, ‘Only Shoe’ by Sting and ending with the lovely ‘Only Shoe’ by Yazoo.

If there is a better playlist out there I would like to see it myself because I do not believe it exists.

Later on today we will also be playing our wonderful game ‘Shoe Do You Think You Are?’ where listeners are invited to call in with a chance to win a year’s supply of shoe polish courtesy of our brilliant sponsors Kiwi, the world’s number one classic shoe polish.

Sandra Qwango is prepped and ready to force a large chunk of news-ical information down your ears in about one minute and fifty six seconds time once I have rubbed you down with a healthy dose of ‘From Me to Shoe’ by our Liverpudlian laughter hounds, The Beatles.

You are most welcome!”

Avatar I’m better at someone else’s job than they are

I don’t say things like that lightly. I don’t walk around, smugly declaring myself better at other people’s jobs. Most of the time I trust that if someone has a job they got it because they can do it.

But I make an exception for the people who write adverts for the tube. Most adverts on the tube are in the form of a jokey tube map. In the winter, every other advert is for cold medicine or cough syrup or something similar, and every single one for years and years has been in the form of a tube map-style line diagram with stops labelled “sniffly nose”, “tickly cough” and “aches and pains”. There’s no imagination. If you’re advertising on the tube apparently the only advert any advertising executive can come up with is a tube map.

All these adverts are crap, but I have now definitively found the worst one. It’s for one of those new companies whose whole existence is to make one kind of mattress that they claim is the best mattress in the world and which they only sell online. I don’t know how this is suddenly such an exciting business model but there’s a lot of them doing it. Anyway, here’s their crap, predictable tube advert.

Oh, look! It’s a fake tube line diagram. This one has tube station names on it, altered to make puns on words to do with sleep. I can live with that – in the same way I live with all the other crap adverts like this one, living with it while silently hating and resenting everything about it. What I can’t live with is how bad the puns are.

“Snoredon” is the worst. That’s the one that got me worked up. I’ve lived in London for 11 years, lived in all parts of it, done the Tube Challenge where you go to every station in a single day, and it still took me several minutes to figure out what that was a reference to.

Eventually I got it when I said it out loud. Morden, the southern terminus of the Northern Line. Morden, which ends “en”, not “on”. Morden, which is at the furthest extremity of the one line that goes a significant distance into South London, used in an advert on a transport network that exists almost entirely in North London and will be seen almost exclusively by people who will not be familiar with Morden at all. If you want a pun on “snore” using a tube station name, go for “Moorgate”. A tube station in Central London on four different lines that far more people will have heard of. A tube station with a distinctive ending that makes it easier to guess what the pun’s about. “Snoregate”. There you go, Casper. I did a better job than your advertising copywriters and I did it in about a minute.

I don’t mind that I can come up with a better crap joke than they can. What irritates me is that someone pitched that advert idea – the one that’s been used a thousand times before and which can be seen in multiple adverts for all sorts of products in every tube carriage already – they pitched it like it was their own brilliant original idea, and they got told it was a good idea, and they got paid for it. And then someone sat down and came up with four of the most half-baked, half-arsed puns on tube station names – so bad that at least one of them is obscure to the point of not working at all when a moment’s thought is all it takes to find a better one – and they put their pen down because they thought they were good enough. And then someone else agreed, and they paid money for it. People got paid for being this bad at their job.

That’s why it bothers me. Because I know I could do bedder. I just need snore of a chance.