Smidge Manly is one of the UK’s most famous interviewers, entertainers and northerners, so it’s no surprise that YouTube is bristling with videos of him in action, doing all the things he does best.
What you might not know is that, nowadays, YouTube automatically generates subtitles for videos. It does this by running the soundtrack through a speech-to-text programme and putting the results up on the screen. It’s done this for all Smidge’s work.
Unfortunately for Smidge, YouTube hasn’t yet got the hang of his accent.
Let me take you back, way way back. Back to when times were a lot simpler and, as it seems, so were the people.
We all know little Ian was a bit of a weirdo. I could tell you right now about half a dozen stories of instances where I did strange and unusual activities. Being the youngest of four meant that half the time all of the attention was on me and the other half was on the other three (I know the maths doesn’t really check out but that was how it felt three quarters of the time). I must have been under ten, possibly six or seven years old.
Following on from my award-winning post about my first mobile phone, let me present you with a genuine attempt to create nostalgia.
This actually stems from something my brother used to do. He would eat a packet of crisps then empty out the leftovers and flatten the packet in one of the many comic book, Beano, Dandy or other annuals we had lying around. It wasn’t really Christmas without some kind of bumper collection of comic nonsense filling up a suitable space in your stocking. Why did he do this? I don’t know, I could message him now and get an immediate response but no doubt he will be feeling tired somewhere given it’s a Sunday.
I decided to do the same thing because I wanted in on these absurd shenanigans. I remember chowing down on a selection of different crisps and then flattening them straight away. About a week later, little Ian went back to his flattened packets and looked at them. “This isn’t the same as John’s,” he thought to myself, “it doesn’t look as good.” I was doing exactly the same thing and yet for some reason my brother was much better at applying pressure to small plastic bags. Clearly my self esteem was very low even at such a young age; Freud would have a field day.
Looking at them now, yes, why on earth was this something we did? I don’t think my sisters were involved, they were too busy making up dance routines to New Kids on the Block and Mel and Kim songs. The pre-internet days are becoming something akin to the wild west where hobbies, interests and general activities were so different to what is the norm now that I personally don’t really know what is considered to be normal anymore. Is there a normal? Probably not, look what counts as music these days (that’s my grumpy man comment for this post).
Dripping in nostalgia and history.
If you indulged in something a little left field when you were a kid please help me out by sharing here. I want to point at you and laugh.
Due to recent security breaches affecting The Beans, a number of extremely important changes have taken place which you need to be aware of. Please read this briefing in full, and if you are uncertain about anything you see here, then please don’t hesitate to read it again but more slowly so you understand it better.
In order to help The Beans respond to this security incident, and all future security incidents, as quickly and efficiently as possible, a new Elite Security Response Taskforce Committee has been formed. Its members – Kev, Chris and Ian – have been chosen for their expertise on cybersecurity matters, their proven 24/7 availability, and the fact that they are the only people involved in The Beans. All security problems are presented to the Elite Security Response Taskforce Committee, who will then respond with a plan of action within eight to ten working weeks.
Already changes are evident. A new method of logging in to The Beans has been established and is now in service.
Members should navigate to the new super secure login page at security.keep-out.pouringbeans.com/go-away/no-hackers-allowed.html from where they can enter their login details.
Members should then enter their username and their password when prompted.
Passwords must contain three uppercase letters; four lowercase letters; a number of numbers between none and twelve, though the numbers themselves must be no lower than eight and no higher than fourteen; three symbols; one emoji (but not the clown face); and a special noise. Users should make the noise into their device’s internal microphone at the appropriate point while typing in their password.
On entering the correct username and password, the member will then receive a telephone call from an unlisted number in Cuba, and will be given a unique sequence of six digits, masked by the sound of heavy breathing and occasional bouts of coughing.
The six digits must be split into two groups of three and then multiplied together. The member’s year of birth should then be deducted from that total to produce a one-time code. This should then be sent by text message to a number that will be shown on the screen.
If the code is correct, an email will be sent to the member containing a unique link. Following the link will open what appears to be the Wilko’s homepage, but clicking on the picture advertising a special offer on broom handles will open a new webpage that will require use of your device’s camera.
Facial recognition software will then scan the member’s viso/volto and compare it to images of the member in the photos section of The Beans.
If the v/v is considered acceptable, the member will be granted access to The Beans and will have three minutes to write a new post or otherwise carry out activities in the admin interface before being automatically logged out.
The danger presented to The Beans by hackers, cybercriminals, cyberbullies and incompetence remains extremely high. The Pouring Beans Elite Security Response Taskforce Committee thanks you for your understanding as we continue to work for a more secure future, today and tomorrow, for our children, and our children’s children. Although at this stage neither our children nor our children’s children will be allowed to access the website for security reasons. Thank you.
Look at you with your big shoes and your empty wallet. How do you pay for things? With your phone? Your watch? Don’t talk to me about witchcraft, sonny, I was around when Timmy Mallet had a music career.
Recycling; you take something old and you turn it into something new. It’s how the world works now and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I would much rather take the rambling notes of a semi-drunk Ian trying to remember an idea from over ten years ago (vanillla scapegoat, shoulder frog bags, ultra finger groups?) and turn it into a leaflet advertising the many talents of a local spiritual healer. Think of the tens of people who would benefit from my sacrifice. It’s a win win for the world.
When I was back visiting my family for belated birthday proceedings I took to the loft in her house to dig out the last of my junk that is cluttering the place up in the hope of either getting rid of it or taking it with me back to Newcastle. What I unearthed will probably form the majority of my posts for next month because December is a busy month. It’s time to phone it in (no pun intended).
I present to you Bob, my very first mobile phone:
Phhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwooooooar!
Purchased for a mere £30.00 from (I think) an O2 store at the White Rose Shopping Centre circa 1999/2000, I initially refused to get one on the grounds that everyone else was and I didn’t want to be lumped in with the zeitgeist. Whatever it was that made me change my mind is lost to time. Perhaps it was the whopping ten (count ’em) text messages the internal battery of the phone could hold or the two lines of text visible on the 3cm by 1cm screen. Maybe it was the robust handset that, even in my tiny hands, feels as though you could crack open a tin of beans with it.
I am confident that this little wild cherry will be worth a lot of money in the future as over twenty years later it is still dripping with sex and style, much like yours truly. Once I start strutting my stuff down at da club, when I be all up at da club, waving this honey sausage around like a pair of electrics socks (?) I’ll be a local celebrity.
Sometimes the random albums you are compelled to listen to and review are just average. Sometimes the random albums you are compelled to listen to and review are life-changingly bad. Sometimes, though, the random albums you are compelled to listen to and review are not albums at all. There’s no particular artist, no particular style, no lyrics even. This is one of those albums.
