Awright Lads?

I'm currently in the process of writing a script. Originally I planned to write a novel, but I decided that for the sake of time and my terrifyingly short attention span that I should change the medium to that of the theatre. "Hark!" I hear those of me who know me well cry, "Haven't you already written a script?". Yes, back when I was a wee nipper of only fifteen, I did indeed write a script, but it was hardly a serious project and the result was amusing, but crass and unoriginal. I also believe I lost the digital copy of it, so all I have left is one hard copy that I intend to keep for myself and not to distribute. You'll have to suffer with my new one.

The story is a black comedy that revolves around the life of a chap called Charlie. Charlie lives with his sister (and her boyfriend) and works in a paper merchant, although after three years of working there he still doesn't know this. After being stood up in a pub by a date, he drowns his sorrows to the point of coughing up his guts and passing out. When he comes around he overhears two shady characters who believe they're alone discussing plans for a job that "even an idiot could pull off". After a long deliberation session lasting all of thirty seconds, he decides to get one up on these crafty bastards and do the job an hour before them and live the life of a king.

Obviously it doesn't work out like that, and he gets dragged into a world he knows nothing about. You'll meet characters such as:

Tez, Charlie's friendly but untrustworthy right hand man

Sarah, Charlie's caring but impatient sister

Harry, the gang leader with a violent obsession for biscuits

Expect thrills, spills and chills; idiocy, idioms and incompetence; guns, gangsters and garibaldis.

And just for you lucky few who actually read my blog, here's the opening monologue by the lead character himself as he describes his life until the pub*:

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My name's Charlie, and… Well basically, my life's shoddy. It seems no matter what I do my life will always be that way. "Why so glum Charlie?" I hear you asking. That's a question and a half, but I suppose it all boils down to two weeks ago. I was working as I usually do, which is usually as little as I can get away with, at the wonderful cesspool known as Wildorth Smith Ltd. Three years of working there and I still don't know what it's supposed to do, I just sit in the corner typing up receipts for overpaid wonkas whose job it is to tell people to flip off in as many creative ways as possible. Anyway, I went home to get ready for a date I had that night, just a drink down at the Red Lion, nothing special, but the girl clearly thought I was a bit 'special' and decided to leave me dribbling into a bowl of peanuts for the rest of the evening. Of course I handled the situation in a sensible and mature manner, calling her up telling her I was going to chop up her dog and eat it before drowning myself in two pound pints of lager. I'm not quite sure what happened, but I did wake up in a cubicle a little bit surrounded by my own vomit and urine to the grating sound of two blokes talking at the urinals.

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*In the interest of taste, all harsh swearing has been replaced by friendlier words in bold - kitten approved

The Circling Pool Of Consumerism

Technology. Marvellous isn't it? The ability to send information at the speed of light to any country with an oversized ethernet port on it* has completely revolutionised the way we live our lives, we're now more informed, efficient, and streamlined, we can just grab the latest gizmo and then when it breaks we simply buy a new one.

And it makes me sad.

Whatever happened to the rustic, charming way of life? When was the last time you saw a copper kettle or a telephone with an actual bell and doesn't just bleep expectantly at you like a whippet with Tourette's (I realise that the telephone is still technically sending information at the speed of light, but it's such a raw, basic form in comparison to something like the internet I'm going to let it slide)? Many years ago people would buy something and hang onto it for years, maybe even decades because everything worth having was much more expensive. Nowadays you can own a mobile phone for barely a year before it breaks or becomes obsolete.

The public figures I admire the most are the sort of people who uphold these marvellous traditions, namely people like James May and Stephen Fry. Now many of you are probably thinking "Hang on, Stephen Fry is nationally renowned for his love of modern technology you blithering idiot!", and you're right. I am also a sucker for shiny gadgets and the latest toys, but the reason I care about a lot of technology nine times out of ten is not because of its functionality, but for its ability to make me beam with joy every time I so much as look at it. Let's go back to mobile phones and take a look at the iPhone. A very handy piece of kit, with all sorts of flashy features and wonderful pretty colours. Now there are hundreds of different smartphones out there on the market, some of them probably more functional than Apple's wonderbrick, so why do people buy the iPhone? I'd gladly put money on it's success not on advertising, but on it's build quality. There have been many reports about iPhones breaking on people, but the only reason we hear about it is because it is seen to be this immovable object that can only be destroyed with kryptonite. If there was a report on how often my Sony Ericsson W705 froze on me, there'd be little room for any other news.

Charm is attention to detail, and you rarely get that these days. Too many companies are just interested in making a quick sell, and very little else. This is extremely apparent in the automotive trade as well, with companies like Kia and Peugeot producing plastic cars worth about three and six, it's difficult to find a decent affordable car. The same goes for many supercars, who cut corners to save money and still whack £10,000 onto the price tag for having a badge that says 'Ferrari'. There are very few exceptions, but I think the one you'll be most familiar with is that holy grail of engineering known as the Bugatti Veyron. I know it's not exactly the cheapest car at about £850,000, but when you consider that each one costs over £5,000,000 to make (yes, five million pounds), eighty-five hundredths of a million is a snip. I've obviously never driven one, and I would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of someone who had ever been inside one, but as Jeremy Clarkson put it, the birth of the Veyron really was a "Concord moment".

I believe that eventually consumerism and this whole disposable lifestyle will die when people start believing the threat of global warming and the melting ice caps (even if it isn't true). Whether it will be in my lifetime is a matter open to debate, but I'm sure as Hell going to have wing-back chairs, stuffed animals and an 10ft wide open fireplace in my house before I die. Right next to the 60" marble TV and the Xbox 1440.

How To Make Everyone Hate You

The game.

Chocolate That Lingers In The Mind

Last Saturday I tore myself away from my Xbox long enough to enjoy the wonders that are housed in the Soil Association Organic Food Festival. It was certainly a day well spent, some of the food there the likes of which the world has never seen the likes of which.*

For today's entry I'm going to be posting a short extract from an article I'm writing about the event, focussing on one particular stall that truly caught my eye, owned by a company called Montezuma's, who produce organic chocolate in varied and exciting flavours:

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As I wandered around the various canvas-covered attractions laid before me, I noticed a series of chocolates that caught my eye. I recognised them immediately, and upon closer inspection realised that I had seen the very same company there two years ago at this very festival. Itching to know more about the company brave enough to launch chilli & lime as their flagship flavour, I asked a young lady how the company started.

"Our company was started in 2000 by a couple in London who decided to drop everything and go into chocolate, they went travelling and our first shop was opened in Brighton in 2000 and we are now based in West Sussex in Chichester"

A stirring tale indeed, but is their cocoa ethically sourced?

"Our house blend is from the Dominican Republic, but we also source beans from Peru, Ecuador, Venezuela and some from Papa New Guinea as well. We know all the places they're sourced from and we remain in good contact with all the suppliers"

Always good to hear, but how do they feel about appearing at such festivals?

"We've done this fair a number of times now, we're also at the several chilli festivals, the BBC Good Food Show, and we’re going out to Glastonbury and Reading, the really big events"

Chances are that you'll see Montezuma's if you plan on attending a food festival any time soon. After the interview I bought myself a bar of chilli and lime chocolate and went on my way with an enormous smile on my face. I can safely put my hand on my heart and say that they are true pioneers of the chocolate industry, and I hope to see much more of them in years to come.

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If you'd like to know more about Montezuma's or buy some of their chocolate (and I explicitly suggest you do), follow the link below.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some more chocolate to eat.

Montezuma's Homepage

*Repetition intentional

Cymru

Most people like to splash out on holidays, go the extra mile, really push the boat out. My family certainly pushed a boat out, but not the metaphorical one I was hoping for.

Friday morning, all of my things had been packed, and I was sitting on my bed drying my hair like a girl as I did every day, preparing for the excitement and thrills that can be had in sunny Wales. Don't get me wrong, I love Wales to pieces, it's about as close you can get to being in England without actually being in England, and I do love England. What I don't love, however, is spending my valuable week off with my parents in a drizzly carbon copy of the country I come from in an area where the person closest to my age not directly related to me was a aged sheepdog with arthritis. The time when I go on holiday is one of the only times when I actually feel and act my age, spending the rest of my days behaving like someone twice my age, so I feel like I want to go out and really enjoy myself as an eighteen year old should, and this becomes very difficult in a tiny little village with a name I still fail to pronounce (how on Earth would you pronounce 'Llangors'?). The two pubs the village held were full of ancient Welsh folk with fewer teeth than they had eyes, apart from the one girl I recognised as being around my age, who looked like she had just finished her shift at the local brothel, which was sadly non-existent.

The place we stayed was very nice I have to admit, and if I was pushed for an answer I would agree that I enjoyed my holiday. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I had had a little more privacy from my elder brother and his friend (I still don't understand why she was there) at night. I used to find it difficult to sleep without someone in the room, but when you've spent so long on your own, it's difficult to fall into a pleasant slumber with someone else in the room.* Now back to my boat reference.

The best part of the holiday was probably the lake that was only a stone's throw away from where we were staying. Admittedly it was a far stretched stone that had to have landed on a car and then carried the extra miles to the shore, but a stone's throw nonetheless. It truly was a gorgeous expanse of clear (ish) water perfect for rowing on. Now you're beginning to see where the boat comes in. Unfortunately, the boat I was in was being shared by my brother and his friend, who I had only properly met the day before. We've been rowing before, my brother and I, and it has always been a great sibling bonding session of brotherly relations, proper man stuff. Throw a woman into the equation and it quickly becomes three people desperately trying to keep themselves entertained for forty minutes. The phrase 'two's company, three's a crowd' has never been more relevant.

To sum up, let me give you some advice about Wales:

Only go there if you're going on your own or with friends and one of you possesses the ability to get you to a half-decent public house. If this is not the case, cancel your plans immediately and sit alone for a week drinking yourself into a coma. You'll save money for next year when you can spend it on a decent holiday without your family-orientated baggage.

*Providing you're not diddling them behind everyone's back