Dollop 60 – How To Save The World With Just One Eagle And Five Guinea Pigs

Dollop 60 – How To Save The World With Just One Eagle And Five Guinea Pigs

Download today’s Dollop in audio form

Welcome to my leap day Digital Dollop. There is nothing particularly special about it; itjust so happens to be written on a leap day. I stated at the start of this project that I planned on releasing 365 consecutive daily Dollops, but then I realised that I’d picked a leap year to do this bloody thing in, and so there will be 366 Dollops. I am however hoping that scientists will soon make the discovery that the earth has been orbiting the sun a lot quicker than usual, resulting in an emergency shortening of the year, and meaning that I don’t have to do as many Dollops. If we all push in the same direction hard enough then this might happen. Join with me in trying to push the planet northwards, otherwise I’ll curse you.

On the subject of cursing, I received a comment from Clair yesterday, who expressed interest in parting with money in order to avail herself of my special powers.

“Whilst the curse theory is interesting and, agreed, there does seem to be some evidence to support it. Do you think you may be able to do the opposite and help someone. If you get that scheme up and running please count me in.”

I did say in yesterday’s Dollop that I would be happy to use my powers in a positive way, although I admit that there is no actual evidence yet to support the idea that I can achieve this, whereas there are multiple examples of me negatively influencing things. However, I am willing to give it a go, and I will use today’s Dollop as a test of my ability to positively influence.

I also received a comment from Jenny.

“Enjoying all of your daily dollops. A great daily tonic and much more effective then medicine / tablets. Though if I laugh to much it’s painful…!! Hope to see you in Edinburgh in April on your younguns tour health permitted.”

I am going to try and improve Jenny’s health through this Dollop. I am also going to try and positively influence Clair’s life. There are another three people who I’ve decided to also trial this experiment on. One of them is Mavis Crumble, creator of Mavis Crumble’s Fart Game from Dollop 57, and frequent Dollop commenter. She wrote to me, suggesting that if I used any more of her feature ideas then she would require payment for her services. I have written to her in reply, saying that while I will not pay for her ideas with money, I will however sign her up for my positive energy experiment. I also added that if she did not accept these terms then I would curse her, which we know definitely works. So I think it’s safe to assume that Miss Crumble is onboard.

I also thought that Jools could maybe benefit from some positive energy. Imagine living in a world Jools where you are able to read a blog post and not get all tense and stressed when you see a spelling mistake. Imagine being able to leave a comment without being pedantic. If I can help make this a reality Jools then I will. I shall send positive energy your way through the medium of Digital Dollop.

The next person who I feel might be in need of some positive help is Howy, who left a comment today saying: “Catching up with the podcasts last night in bed. Funny but does not lead to great sex.”

Firstly, this statement has peaked my curiosity (yes Jools, that’s right, I deliberately wrote peaked. I know it’s the wrong spelling, and that you’re starting to get all tense and angry, but soon this affliction will be a thing of the past. I know you are shaking with the urge to leave a pedantic comment, but try and temper that desire and keep reading, for I am about to attempt to help you with positive intention.).

The reason that Howy’s statement has peaked my curiosity is because of the word “great.” He says that listening to the Dollops doesn’t lead to “great sex,” which seems to suggest that it does however lead to sex, even if it is a bit mediocre. I think we need more clarification from Howy about this. Are you listening to the Dollops as a form of foreplay? Are you then engaging in sex immediately after listening to the Dollop? And if so, what is the problem? Is it that one of you gets distracted during the act, and starts remembering parts of the Dollop?

“Haha! Peas.”

There might be people listening to the audio version of the Dollop now who have misunderstood my point here. They may assume that when I wrote, “haha, peas,” I actually wrote, “haha,” pees, as if suggesting that one of them had got distracted during the sex, laughed, and then proceeded to urinate, perhaps as a physical reaction to laughing. But this is not what I was inferring listeners; I was referring to last Monday’s Dollop about my trip to buy peas from Sainsbury’s. Why you didn’t find that story arousing Howy is a mystery.

So, they are my five Guinea pigs. I shall now write a positive paragraph about each of them, which will hopefully positively influence their lives.

Jenny

Jenny is one of the most healthy people on the planet. Jenny is so well in fact, that when people see her they always comment on how she’s glowing; although, they actually do mean that she is really glowing, due to an odd reaction she had to one of the tablets, but apart from that she is feeling healthier and more vibrant and vivacious than ever before.

She comes to The Young’uns gig in Edinburgh and has a great time, although everyone else in the audience is a bit pissed off because of the bright glowing girl who is hurting their eyes and impairing their view. But the good news is that the weird glowing phenomena will wear off soon and then she’ll be left looking ten times more pretty than she did before, which is hard to conceive because Jenny is already one of the prettiest girls in the world, as well as one of the most intelligent, which is clearly exemplified by the fact that she reads/listens to David’s daily Digital Dollop. She lives happily ever after.

Mavis Crumble

Mavis came to prominence in 2016 as a result of her feature ideas for David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which gained her the attentions of some of the top decision makers in radio and television. This led to a bidding war between, Sky, the BBC and ITV. Eventually ITV won the rights and Mavis went to work on creating feature ideas for Ant & Dec. The double act loved Mavis so much that they recorded a re-release of their 90’s hit song Let’s Get Ready To Rumble, called, Let’s Get Ready To Crumble, which featured references to all Mavis’s genius ideas. There was even a mention to Mavis Crumble’s Fart Game as featured on David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which gave me a massive profile boost, which in turn gained me the attention of radio and TV execs. (hey, if I’m going to make all this come true, then you can’t begrudge me a little something for myself too.)

Mavis was granted a 50 % share in the royalties for the Let’s Get Ready To Crumble song, which went to number one in every single country in the world for an entire year; although, in fairness, the year was only fifteen weeks long, due to some scientists discovering that the earth was orbiting the sun much faster than usual. Mavis was then able to take early retirement due to the royalties, not to mention all the Mavis Crumble merchandise which went on sale.

Justin bieber was livid when he noticed that Mavis Crumble’s twitter account had more followers than his, making her the most followed person on Twitter. In fact, he was so livid that he vowed never to make music again. Everyone was so overjoyed by this news that Mavis Crumble was granted the title Queen of Planet Earth, which basically meant she just got loads of free holidays and got to do anything she wanted. And she lived happily ever after.

Jools

Jools woke up one morning feeling much lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She logged onto Facebook for her usual routine of reading people’s status updates and blogs, and then getting riled by their bad grammar or misspellings. She would then usually spend the next part of the day leaving angry pedantic comments, correct their grammar and spelling and suggesting ways in which they can improve their writing. But today was different. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the bad spellings and incorrect grammar; it’s just that it didn’t seem to bother her any more. She then left positive comment after positive comment, in fact, she was so giddy with this whole new exciting experience that she didn’t even bother to check her own spelling, and actually left quite a few misspelt words and grammatically incorrect sentences. But she didn’t care, in fact, she was ecstatic by her new found freedom.

Her change was so overwhelming and inspiring that she began to develop a highly popular self-help career, where she would tour the world lecturing about her new-found life philosophy. She quickly rose to prominence thanks to her infamy on David’s Daily Digital Dollop, which everyone knew about because of Mavis Crumble. Jools would go on to coach CEOs of major companies, presidents and prime ministers. She was so influential, that she had a major positive effect on the entire planet.

One of her most notorious successes was with Donald Trump. After just two minutes with Jools, Trump was a different man. He broke down in front of her and thanked her for showing him the love and tolerance that everyone else of any worth had struggled to demonstrate. But Jools had such an overwhelming compassion and tolerance for Trump’s ignorance that it caused his entire life philosophy to dramatically change.

But Jools’ main triumph was to bring about world peace, using her non-judgement and unyielding levels of tolerance to win the hearts and addled minds of ISIS and other negative ideological groups. Jools essentially saved planet earth, and she, along with every other living person, lived happily ever after.

Howy

Howy didn’t know what had happened to him. It was a bit disconcerting at first. For a start his penis had significantly increased in length and girth, and it was as if someone had hooked him up to a mainframe computer which exclusively housed every single book about sex on the planet. He instantly had a working knowledge of the entire ins and outs of the kamasutra (and there’s a lot of talk about ins and outs in that book) as well as every other tome on sexual technique ever written.

Howy used to be the kind of man who would blame his sexual ineptitude on anything and everything under the sun, including the podcasts of folk singers. But now everything has changed. There is no more need for excuses, for Howy is now the kind of lover that would make Rasputin and Casanova blush and tremble in awe. Howy is the kind of man that sleeps with your wife or girlfriend, and you don’t mind, because you know that she’s only human and that it hardly counts as cheating if it’s the Howy experience. In fact, you are actually immensely glad that Howy has been with her, because maybe he’s taught her a thing or two that she can pass onto you.

Clair

Clair was the lady who brought all this positive change into being. She was the one who suggested to me that I used my powers to influence life for good rather than cursing people. Without Clair, none of this would have happened. Jools wouldn’t have created ever-lasting world peace, Jenny wouldn’t be healthy and vivacious, Mavis wouldn’t have stopped Justin Bieber making music, and Howy would still be having substandard sex and pissing himself. It is because of Clair that we, and she will live happily ever after! The end.

OK, we’ll see how that goes. I’ll keep checking in on you all and find out how your lives are developing. But this has the potential to be revolutionary.

Back tomorrow.

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Dollop 59 – David Eagle And The Powers That Be

Download today’s Dollop in audio form here

So, I wrote about Tony Blackburn, and a mere five days later he was sacked by the BBC. I wrote about Richard Dawkins dying, and on the day that I was going to perform the routine at a comedy night, I discovered that he’d had a stroke the day before. In Thursday’s Dollop I wrote about David Cameron, and then suggested that with a bit of luck something negative might happen to him as a result. It’s beginning to seem as if this Dollop might hold some odd power of influence. I’ve just read an article in the Huffington post with the headline: “David Cameron Warned He Will Face Leadership Challenge If He Keeps Attacking Anti-EU Tories.”

I’m wondering whether this evidence will be enough to convince some people of my powers. Maybe I could setup a donation button on my website, which allows you to pay money for a positive comment about you on my Dollop, resulting in good fortune coming your way. Similarly you could donate some money and send me the name of someone who you’d like me to curse by writing negatively about them. If you get your donations in now then you’ll be able to take advantage of this service much cheaper than in the future, as prices will be set and will increase as more evidence accumulates to support the claim that this system really works. You can stay sceptical and pay more, or take a leap of faith, pay a great deal less and take advantage of this scheme earlier than others. Get in touch with me if you’re interested.

I might also create a scheme whereby I will notify you if you happen to be someone’s intended recipient of misfortune. I will then give you the opportunity to pay more money than the person who is trying to get you cursed, and this money will mean that I drop the curse and don’t write about you. Although, I will then go back to the original donater and give them the opportunity to increase their donation to re-instigate their curse against you. Obviously you will then be given the right to increase your donation and this process will continue until someone backs out of the deal. You also have the opportunity to pay more money to send a curse to the person who originally wanted to curse you.

You might say this scheme is highly unfair, as it favours the rich. All I would say to you in response is to be careful what you say about me, because if I find out you’ll be ripe for the cursing. And anyway, I don’t just accept money; there are also other ways of paying, and yes Chloe, I am referring to what you’re hoping I’m referring to, so get your bid in quick.

Actually, I knew I had special powers from day one, and this was my real reason for doing David’s Daily Digital Dollop. I deliberately spent the first fifty-eight Dollops writing in a jocular manner, talking about seemingly innocuous things like going to the shops and my new kettle, but all this was merely to provide a cover story in order to protect myself against claims of using black magic. You might think that I am now being a bit reckless in revealing all this, but I am pretty confident that I’ve covered my back so well with my cleverly cultivated light-hearted humorous blog construct that most people will just assume that I am still joking., the idiots. Plus, if anyone dares to challenge me then I’ll write about them and consequently curse them.

This is not the first time that I’ve considered that I might hold some mysterious ability to curse people. If you’ve found this atypically short Dollop unsettlingly scant, then you can read a blog post I wrote in October 2011 which talks about another incident in which one of my curses came true.

Back tomorrow.

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Dollop 58 – A Hastily Written Weird Tangential Fictitious Account Of Tony Blackburn’s Sacking By the BBC (I’ve always been one for a catchy title)

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Getting sacked from the BBC must be a surreal experience. You have to keep popping back into your old place of work repeatedly in order to do radio and TV interviews with the BBC about being sacked. Tomorrow Tony Blackburn appears on BBC Radio 4’s Broadcasting House programme, which probably records in the same building that Tony would work at when presenting his Radio Two shows. Blackburn’s interview for the programme has actually already been recorded today. He normally broadcasts on Radio 2 on a Saturday. He was probably in the very same building at the same time as usual, only instead of broadcasting on Radio 2, he went next-door and talked about being fired on Radio 4. He probably saw whoever’s taken over his show in the corridor. What with all the sudden interest in Tony Blackburn, he’s actually been on BBC TV and radio more in the last couple of days than he ordinarily would when he actually worked for the BBC.

The whole Tony Blackburn sacking situation seems rather nebulous, given that the BBC have been very vague about the whole thing, to the point that on Thursday morning you had the BBC news suggesting that the BBC had sacked him, although the BBC at that time were refusing to comment. So the BBC was reporting an iledged sacking, but then saying that the BBC had yet to comment. Again, we’re probably talking about people in the same building here. Tony Blackburn probably popped next-door after his sacking, told BBC news that he’s just been sacked, then Someone from BBC news popped next-door and asked the BBC bosses, who were all conveniently assembled in the one room as if they’d just been having a really important meeting about sacking one of their high-profile presenters.

“Damn!” thinks the boss, “why do we have such an on-the-ball and efficient news team? I’ve been hoisted by my own petard, as I’m the one who sanctions their training.”

The boss sees that the news reporter has just spied his file, open on his desk, with the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking” written on it in big bold letters. He panics, and desperately starts wracking his brain to find a way out. “Hide the evidence,” he thinks. He picks up the file and tries to shove it in his mouth, hoping that he can eat it, but it’s no use, the file is too wide and thick to go in his mouth, plus he realises that this would arouse even more suspicion – a trained BBC News journalist would notice that kind of thing. And anyway, he also looked at his colleagues and remembered that they also had files on their desk with the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking” written on in big bold letters. He would have to think of something clever to say to get out of this one, and fast.

“No comment,” he shouted. He realised that he was sounding hysterical, which hardly helped his cause. So he said “no comment” again, only much more casually, and then leant back in his chair, hoping to convey the notion that he was totally cool and relaxed. Sadly, this last move last move backfired, as he’d completely forgotten that his chair didn’t have a back, meaning that he toppled backwards off his chair, and landed on the floor with his legs in the air. He tried to grab hold of the desk to steady him, but it was too late. All that happened was that he fell, bringing the file with him which landed hard on his face.

At this point, a BBC news cameraman shuffled into the office with his equipment, ready to cover the story. He couldn’t let this happen. He was lying on the floor with his legs in the air in the most ignominious pose, with a file on his head boldly displaying the words “Tony Blackburn Sacking.” And he knew that the cameraman wasn’t going to miss a shot like this. He’d been given BBC training, he knew this because again, he’d organised the training. He cursed the proficiency of his staff.

He scrambled to his feet and shouted at the assembled news team, telling them that he’d sack them all if they dared to broadcast this. The news team slumped back next-door, disappointed. They’d have to miss out on another exclusive. They knew that Sky would start broadcasting the news in the next few minutes, and then it wouldn’t be too long before the rest of the news outlets caught-up. Eventually the BBC would report on “rumours of the sacking of Tony Blackburn by the BBC,” and state that there is, “as of yet, no comment rom the BBC,” even though the sodding thing had taken place at the other side of their studio wall.

Anyway, I hadn’t planned to write a tangential fictional story, but sometimes I start writing these Dollops and get carried away with a scenario or a subject that I hadn’t really intended to write about. I had intended to talk more seriously about the BBC, and how it seems sometimes as if they’re almost actively trying to hang themselves, but I never got around to talking about that. I aim for serious, but my brain is clearly more comfortable going on weird fictitious flights of fancy. Anyway, it’s gone 7 o’clock now, and so I don’t have time to write any more or worry that this is a bit haphazard and weird. I suppose that

this is maybe one of the strengths of this project. Perhaps a blog post like this would never see the light of day if I was writing less regularly, because I’d try and tidy it up or develop it more, but the need to produce on a daily basis sometimes means that there isn’t that luxury. I suppose you could either see that as a strength of this project or a weakness. I’m not sure. It’ll be interesting to see how I feel when I look back on these Dollops in the future. I hope you got something out of it anyway. As always, feel free to comment, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

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Dollop 57 – Mavis Crumble’s Fart Game, And A Song About Myspace I Wrote Ten Years Ago

Today’s Dollop is an audio Dollop, featuring a new exciting game and a song about Myspace that I recorded ten years ago when it was relevant.

Download it here

Back tomorrow.

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Dollop 56 – Featuring David Cameron, Jeremy Corbyn, Tony Blackburn And Peter Kay

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Great news, yesterday’s Dollop gained the attention of comedian Peter Kay. He’s apparently been searching for a variation on his famous garlic bread routine, but has never found the right combination of words. But then Peter found yesterday’s Dollop and this has seemingly put an end to his years of seeking. He has offered to buy the rights to use my vegetables routine, which I merely included as a flippant throwaway section simply to pacify Jools.

Here’s the email I received from a very excitable Peter Kay just a few hours ago.

“Hello David, this is Peter Kay. I was surfing the net when I came across your website. OK, I’ll admit, I was actually searching for young Hungarian fat gay boys and after ten hours of non-stop niche porn I eventually found your website. I’ll be honest, most of what I read was shit, but there was one bit that I really liked, and that was your vegetables routine from yesterday’s Dollop.

I would be interested in buying the rights to this routine. I was thinking £1000 and all the garlic bread you could ever want. I still get sent cases of garlic bread by people, after my amazingly hilarious garlic bread routine. Do you remember it? I basically just say the words garlic bread lots of times and people laugh. I’ve been trying for years to come up with another idea as brilliant as that, and when I saw your blog post, I knew that I’d finally found it.

I immediately imagined myself on stage delivering the collie flower line. I was saying the two words, sounding completely bemused, as if the idea was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard in my life. Then I just continued saying the two words over and over again, but changing the intonation, the pitch and the inflection. Some times I would say “collie? ……….. flower?!” pausing dramatically, and giving equal incredulity to both the word collie and the word flower. Other times I might stress the word “collie” more than the word “flower”, and visor-versa. I was also playing around the length of the pauses, just reacting in the moment, guided by my inate intuition. I mean, I was really experimenting with the form and meter and the delivery of the words. I reckon I could keep that going for a good ten minutes. I could hear the audience’s hysterical laughter, unabating. I felt that power once again, the kind of power that I’ve not felt since the glorious garlic bread days. I would just keep saying the same two words in different ways, and people would be helpless with laughter.

So, what’s it to be David? Is it a deal? £1000 and all the garlic bread you could ever want. Oh, and I’ll also go halves on all the cauliflower that comes my way as a result of the routine. You’ve really struck gold with this one David, but if you tried doing the collie flower routine yourself at your own gigs then it wouldn’t be giving the material the prestige that it deserves. Plus, I don’t think you have what it takes to be able to deliver the same two words over and over again and make an audience wet themselves with laughter. I am the man for that job David. Why don’t you sell the rights to me, and you can stay at home, living a life of luxury, munching your way through mounds of garlic bread and cauliflower. Leave the hard graft to me. Let me know your thoughts.

P.S. Please keep your response brief, as you do tend to go on a bit.”

Exciting stuff. I am considering my options, although I think I might try and haggle a bit; maybe try and get a 70 % steak in the cauliflower bounty.

In defiant opposition to David Cameron’s risible and all-too-revealing comments about Jeremy Corbyn in yesterday’s PMQs, I am writing today’s Dollop wearing an ill-fitting suit and an unstraightened tie. I think that Cameron’s comment to Corbyn really displayed his true colours, and I’m not referring to your outfit David, but something a lot more important and disconcerting; yes David, even more important than suits and silly songs. We saw the mask come off; obviously this is a figurative mask, as a real mask would clash with his suit, and his mother would be livid. We saw the real David Cameron: the pompous, privileged, patriotic, priggish, preening prat. If you’re a lefty who also happens to be a fan of aliteration, then today’s your lucky day.

“put on a proper suit, do up your tie, and sing the national anthem”. That’s what’s important in David cameron’s world. Sod the NHS, sod the actual issues, buy a better suit and sing a stupid song asking a fictitious entity to save the figurehead of an outdated, pointless totem of inequality and injustice. I think you seriously need to reevaluate what really needs saving, Cameron. You actually have it within your power to do some genuine, valid saving: the NHS, the welfare state, the BBC, the emergency services …

Surely Cameron’s comments weren’t viewed by his advisors as positive? What happened to the hoody-hugging Cameron? The man of the people image? You mean, that was all a sham? I’d love to be a fly on the wall at Downing Street, partly because I’d be interested to hear Cameron’s post PMQs debrief, but mainly because I’d just like to shit in Cameron’s dinner.

If ever I listen to Prime Minister’s Questions I always end up feeling completely baffled. Nothing ever seems to really get properly addressed. The whole discussion on the Health Secretary’s statistics about patient deaths at weekends is a casing point. Corbyn accuses the conservatives of being guilty of overstating the figure. The labour side cheers. Cameron comes back at Corbyn and says that yes they are guilty. A hush descends over the place. Is Cameron really going to admit that they made a mistake? That’s what we’re all thinking. But then Cameron does something really clever. He pauses for dramatic effect and then delivers the punchline: “guilty of actually understating the figures.” The conservatives are jubilant. “aaaaaah” they snidely intone. And then we move onto another question, leaving me completely confused. Are the statistics understated or overstated? And this happens all the time in PMQs. Does anyone really know? The reaction of the assembled conservatives seems to suggest that they don’t have a clue, hence the stunned silence and then the “aaaaaaaaah” when Cameron does his pull back and reveal – oh god, that’s just given me an image that I really can do without.

I am getting a little concerned that these Dollops have some odd power to influence the universe. I wrote about Richard dawkins dying, and then I discovered that he’s just had a stroke. Last Saturday I wrote about Tony Blackburn’s career, and today it emerges that he’s just been sacked by the BBC. I just hope that nothing bad has happened to Jools. If you’re still reading these Dollops Jools, let me know that everything is OK, and that you haven’t contracted a disease or just been fired from your job. On the plus side though, I have just written about David Cameron, so fingers crossed – actually, I best keep my fingers uncrossed for now as typing with crossed fingers would probably be rather difficult.

Back tomorrow, if I’m not too bloated after my celebratory garlic bread and cauliflower binge.

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Dollop 55 – Revenge Is A Dish Best Served with Vegetables

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

I’ve had another run-in with Jools. I’ve talked about Jools a few times in these Dollops. She has been a reader of these Dollops since the very beginning, and she’s commented on almost every one of them. I think she’s probably read them all.

Many of her comments have been suggestions about how I might want to improve the Dollops, and one of these suggestions was that I make the dollops shorter. I addressed this comment in Dollop 46, so I won’t go over it again, for brevity’s sake (you see? I’m learning, Jools).

Last Sunday, I was really tired after coming back from the wedding fair. I’d barely slept the night before and had to get up early to leave Manchester. I got back from the fair at about 4pm and still needed to write that day’s Dollop. But I could barely keep my eyes open. I wrote the dollop while lying in bed, periodically falling asleep, before waking again a few seconds later and continuing typing. As a result, the Dollop was a bit shorter than usual; 782 words fact fans.

Jools left a comment on this Dollop saying: “Well done on the precision of the shorter length dollop. Having to say things in fewer words concentrates the mind and the ideas. And it is easier to read.”

‘Thank you Jools, although, the shortness was more down to a malfunctioning brain and falling asleep during the writing process, as opposed to anything else. Perhaps I should try writing these Dollops while dosed up on sleeping tablets. I might eventually end up killing myself, but at least you’d get a decent run of short Dollops before I died, and on the plus side, when I’m dead my Dollops will be even shorter, to the point of non-existent.

The next day, I was back to my usual ways, writing a blog post that contained 1484 words. I expected Jools to be disappointed that I’d tantalised her with a shorter Dollop and then rubbed her face in an extra big Dollop the next day. But her comment was uncharacteristic.

“Yes. This is funny. I’d like to have heard more about the young girl and her bewilderment at the world of veg. You could have taken this for a longer walk. Or drawn her out more.”

Yes, I know, Jools is now suggesting that I write more. She’s mentioned on several occasions about making the Dollops shorter, and then when I write a lengthy Dollop,she starts intimating that I extend the Dollop even further.

For anyone who didn’t read/listen to Dollop 53, here is a brief extract of the bit Jools is referring to. If you have read or heard this before, you can either skip this bit, or relive the magic another time, and perhaps you’ll find new dimensions that you didn’t appreciate the first time.

“I’ve just come back from Sainsbury’s. Being blind I ask someone working at the shop to help me get the various things. Today’s lady had seemingly never seen a vegetable before, nor most of the food I was buying. She’d never heard of spring onions before, had no idea what a courgette was. Cherry tomatoes seemed to be a concept that completely bewildered her. “I’ve heard of cherries, and I know about tomatoes, but I didn’t know that you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.””

There’s a lot more to the story than this; the lady’s lack of veg knowledge was just the scene setter, the tip of the iceberg, the iceberg lettuce maybe – another vegetable that the lady’s probably never heard of. I cited three vegetables that I wanted to buy, and explained that the lady hadn’t heard of any of them. I’m not sure how much more beneficial it would have been to continue naming vegetables and then continue to explain that the shop assistant had never heard of them. I thought three was enough, and ordinarily Jools would be telling me to edit and make the Dollops shorter, but when it comes to vegetables, she’s seemingly hungry for more.

I’m feeling a bit guilty about being too harsh on Jools. I genuinely do appreciate her reading these Dollops and she is one of the few people who actually leaves a comment, whereas the rest of you out there (and I know you’re there because I can see you on my web and podcast stats) you’re just take take take. But Jools gives something back. Granted, what she gives back is at times confusing and contradictory. But at least she’s participating. So, I don’t want to be overly harsh on her. So I thought I’d do something nice just for Jools,to say thanks. So here are a few more examples of vegetables, followed up with some comments about them by the clueless shop assistant. My original three examples from the 53rd Dollop were actually true, whereas these are invented by me as a special treat for you Jools. I hope you like them. The rest of you might find this next section a bit overkill. You might be of the opinion that three vegetables was enough. Feel free to skip ahead to the next bit. After all, this is not designed for you; I am exclusively catering for Jools now, to say thanks and sorry if I’ve been too harsh on her. OK, here you go Jools. I hope you enjoy.

“I need to get a cauliflower.”

“A Cauliflower? Never heard of it. I’ve heard of a collie, as in the dog. And I’ve heard of a flower, as in the thing that grows, but I didn’t know you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice. A flower that tastes like a dog? No thank you.”

“I also need to buy a jacket potato.”

“A what? A jacket potato? I’ve never heard of that before. I’ve heard of a jacket, as in the item of clothing. And I’ve heard of a potato. But I didn’t know you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice. A potato that tastes like leather? Rather you than me.”

“I also need some parsnips.”

“Some what? Pa’s nips? As in dad’s nipples? That sounds disgusting! Do they cut them off the dad’s when they die? Or do they do it when they’re alive? It sounds very cruel. Plus, I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.”

That’s kind of the clueless shop assistant’s catchphrase Jools: “I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.” I could do more, and I happily will if you pay me. But for the sake of everyone else and myself, let’s move on.

Jools’ comment from Dollop 53 continued:

“‘curiosity’ is piqued not peaked.”

Fair enough, she corrected my misuse of the word peaked over piqued, which is fine. I’ve never seen it written down before. I tend to have a screen reader reading things to me, so there are certain words that I’ve never actually read before. So fine, I don’t mind having my spelling corrected, although, let me tell you Jools that my spellchecker constantly gets irritated with me when I type your name, because it’s apparently not a correct spelling. So, get your own name spelt right first before you start pointing fingers. That’s my message to you, and you can’t argue with logic like that.

I replied to Jools’ comment in what I intended to be a jocular manner.

“My goodness, well, thank you, I feel as if I’m being marked by the teacher now. Whatever you do please don’t give me lines; I have enough writing to be getting on with as it is. Glad you enjoyed it. I like the fact that you’ve been suggesting that I expurgate the blogs, and yet you then request more detail about her lack of vegetable knowledge. Just imagine a vegetable, and then imagine that she’s never heard of it, and do that until you get bored. That should give you a similar result. Unfortunately, I only asked her for courgette, peas, spring onions and cherry tomatoes. Perhaps next time I will record my shopping trip, and deliberately ask for more vegetables, and capture her reaction. Feel free to suggest vegetables if there are any particular types you’d like me to insert, by which I mean mention – it’s not that kind of blog, not yet anyway, but you never know, if the money’s right. Have I piqued your interest perchance?”

Now, I wrote this, assuming that it would be taken as a lighthearted response to Jools’ critique. She’s correcting my spelling (which I really don’t mind) and she’s making suggestions about how I can improve what I’ve written, which is a little different to how anyone else interacts with these blogs, but fair enough, why not? I mean, it’s just her opinion, and I’m probably not going to change what I do on the basis of it, but still, it’s fine. So I made a little joke about her being like a teacher, marking my work. I assumed it would be taken as a joke, especially given that she’s not fallen shy of offering frank comment herself. Jools has probably read every single one of my Dollops, meaning that she’s had an insight into the way I think for seven weeks, so I’d assume that she’d know that I was merely joking when I made that comment to her. But, I think I’ve given Jools the impression that I am annoyed with her.

I received a reply from Jools saying: “Ah, that’s where I’m going wrong then. I thought it was any reaction you wanted, and that, sadly, was mine.”

So I think that Jools has taken um bridge with my reply. Fortunately, I’ve written this lovely blog post to help placate her and smooth things over between us, so we should be fine now. Are we cool Jools? How about one more vegetable scenario to help make things good between us once again?

“I also want to buy a pumpkin.”

“What?! A what?! Pump? As in, fart? Kin? What, like … a family member? A family member’s farts? I’m sorry, you’re just being stupid now. I’m sick of hearing about these ridiculous made-up vegetables. I’m not prepared to help you any more. Good day sir, I’m leaving. But not before I’ve said: I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.”

Got to get her catchphrase in, eh Jools? Oh, and I made this Dollop extra long for you, just to say thanks.

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Dollop 54 – Meet David Illegal! My Criminal Alter Ego

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

This train is certainly making its presence felt, shaking my hands up and down even more than the Sheffield buses, meaning that I am constantly typing misplaced letters. I’m heading back from Manchester, where I’ve just had a brush with the law. Granted, it wasn’t a particularly harsh, bristly or wiry brush, more of a very soft, fluffy, gentle kind of brush; but it was a brush nonetheless.

I arrived at the tram stop just as the tram was approaching. I got straight on the tram and settled into my seat, basking in my good fortune, as now I would make the earlier train, which had a shorter journey time and would shave an hour off my return home to Sheffield. I was in my own little world, unaware of my surroundings, probably thinking about what to write for today’s Dollop, when I was jolted back to my physical setting by a lady standing by me.

“Ticket please.”

I had completely forgotten about getting a ticket. When I used to live in Manchester I had a pass that meant that I didn’t need to buy a ticket. So I’d just arrived at the tram stop, noticed that the tram was there and got on it.

I asked the lady if I could buy a ticket on the tram, but she said no. So then I asked her if I could buy one when I got off the tram. I appreciate now that this was a bit of an odd question. How would they know that I would actually be true to my word? But I’d made the suggestion in complete innocence, as if it was perfectly plausible that I should be able to purchase a ticket once I’d got off the tram. I think the lady was a bit taken aback by this question, because in stead of explaining the ridiculousness of my proposal, she said, sounding surprised, “Well, er, OK, but make sure you do.” As she walked away she muttered, “that’s a new one.”

Then she got off the tram, and I heard her laughing with the member of staff at the station. “He says he’s going to buy one when he gets off the tram.” The other member of staff laughed. I still hadn’t realised the oddness of my suggestion, and so felt a bit put out by the laughing, so I muttered something under my breath about them both being condescending idiots, which obviously wasn’t anywhere near loud enough for them to hear, but it made me feel better.

Then a thought struck me. It was the same thought that had obviously immediately crossed the two staff members’ heads, but it had only just emerged in my brain. I realised that I could get away with not buying a ticket. In fact, if I was going to make the earlier train then I wouldn’t have time to buy a ticket. It was going to be a close call whether I managed to make that train, and it would save me an hour of travel and waiting around in the station. So I had a moral quandary: I could buy a ticket for a journey I’d already done and had gotten away with taking for free and consequently get home an hour later, or not buy a ticket and be rewarded for my dishonesty by getting home an hour earlier.

I decided that I would go straight for the train, and not buy the tram ticket. I could always buy an extra ticket the next time I took a tram. The prices would have probably risen by then, so they’d be getting more money, which would kind of be like paying interest. I would view it as a loan. I felt as if I’d vindicated myself morally, and that now I could get on the earlier train guilt free.

When the tram arrived at the station I got off and headed for the train platform. I knew that there were other people on the tram who had heard my declaration about buying a ticket when I got off the tram. I might be the recipient of a citizen’s arrest. I would obviously explain my loan hypothesis to them, but that would take up valuable time that I didn’t have, and I would miss my train. So I made a run for it, a run befitting of the criminal that I was.

I ran up the stairs and towards the platform. But my path was prevented by a man. I had no choice but to stop, as my access had been blocked. There were a group of people in front of me, all stopping me from reaching the platform, and in front of them was a bareer. I had reached the ticket checks. I had to stand in a cue of people getting their train tickets checked. Eventually the man checked my ticket and let me pass, but I knew that it was too late. I knew that I’d been thwarted. I arrived at the platform just as my train was departing. The sound of the train chugging down the plattform was like a knife in my heart. But then the next sound I heard was like a machete to the head.

“The 1618 service to Sheffield will be delayed by approximately twenty-five minutes.” Another twenty-five minutes had just been added to my journey, meaning that missing the earlier train had now cost me an hour and twenty-five minutes.

Annoyance bristled through me. I now had an hour to waste at the train station. A thought fleetingly presented itself: I now had time to go back to the tram ticket office and buy my ticket. I turned to walk in the direction of the tram ticket office, but then I stopped. I was too angry at the world to do the right thing. I turned back around and slumped into one of the seats. I decided that missing the train was punishment enough without feeling guilty about not buying a tram ticket. I would just sit here and sulk and sod the tram network.

But it was as if a greater power had read my thoughts and issued further punishment accordingly, the announcement came to inform me that my train would be delayed by a further ten minutes.

Worried that there might be some connection between my failure to buy a tram ticket and the success of my journey, I got up from my seat and headed to the tram ticket office. I bought a ticket. Obviously I couldn’t buy a ticket retrospectively, so I had to just buy one going in the opposite direction, which was the same price as the one I should have bought. I then put the ticket straight in the bin, meaning that there was no chance of me using it at a later date.

“The 1618 service to Sheffield is delayed by fifteen minutes.”

My delay time had been significantly cut down, I had learnt my lesson, and the universe was realigning itself accordingly. Or at the very least, I felt slightly better about myself and less guilty.

I’m looking forward to being contacted about the film rights for this particular Dollop. Maybe we need a few more plot twists and story development, but I think I’ve got the hallmarks of a great drama. Perhaps there could be a love interest. Maybe she works at the tram ticket office and we first meet when I eventually buy my ticket. We initiate a date, fall in love, get married and have children. Obviously none of that would have happened if I hadn’t missed my train and done the right thing by purchasing a ticket. It would be like a modern day fable, promoting honest living and doing the right thing, as if I hadn’t bought that ticket then I might have lived a loveless lonely life and died all alone, unloved. And maybe as I drew my final breath I would have a hallucination that showed me the kind of life that I could have been living if I’d only bought a ticket. I see my children, and my beautiful wife, I see myself growing old contentedly with my true love always by my side. So many happy memories of a life well lived. And then I’m back in my bed all alone, dying, with nothing, and I hear the voice of God saying, “but at least you took that tram ride for free, didn’t you? At least you saved yourself a £2,30 tram fare.

I suppose the moral of the story is somewhat spewed by the fact that if I’d have bought the tram ticket originally then I wouldn’t have met my true love. So the moral of the story could actually be seen as really being: don’t do the right thing the first time, but make sure you do the right thing the second or third time. But we can take a closer look at the script and story ark and work out the flaws. But firstly, you need to name your price. Let’s talk about the money and then we’ll take it from there.

Who do you think we should get to play me in the film?

11””Back tomorrow.

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Dollop 53 – Well You Know What They Say About Peas

Download today’s Dollop in audio form here

I’ve just come back from Sainsbury’s. Oh yes, fasten your seat belts folks, it’s going to be one hell of a Dollop; I’ve really hooked you in with that opening sentence, haven’t I.

“Damn! I’ve got a mountain of things to do before bed, and I really don’t have time to read this, but the opening sentence caught my eye and now I’m suckered in. Although, I am rather freaked out that I’m now reading my exact thought process word for word, meaning that David has somehow predicted what I was going to think before I thought it, including this bit. How can this be? Now, I’ve got some spaghetti bolognaise from a couple of nights ago in the fridge, so I might have that for tea. That’ll be quick and means I can get on with the things I … hang on, my mind drifted off for a few seconds there and yet, David has somehow predicted that I would do that and think about Spaghetti Bolognaise. How is this possible? I’m sure that everyone else reading this just assumes that this is a bit of a joke that has gone on rather too long, but they’re not the ones caught in the middle of it, having their thoughts read before they’ve even happened. When will this end? How long will this weird thought reading routine go on for? Does this prove that everything I think and do is predestined, and that David is God? I must break the spell. Maybe if I switch off the computer, somehow I’ll be free from this weirdness, and my thoughts will be mine once again. OK, I must force myself to stop reading this, despite its strange hypnotising power, as I see my own thoughts being presented as text on a blog. But I must be strong if I am to break this spell. I must shut down the computer. OK: start menu, shut down. OK, windows is shutting dow…”

Anyway, sorry, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted by my own weirdness. I’ve just come back from Sainsbury’s. Being blind I ask someone working at the shop to help me get the various things. Today’s lady had seemingly never seen a vegetable before, nor most of the food I was buying. She’d never heard of spring onions before, had no idea what a courgette was. Cherry tomatoes seemed to be a concept that completely bewildered her. “I’ve heard of cherries, and I know about tomatoes, but I didn’t know that you could buy them as one. I wouldn’t imagine that it would taste very nice.”

She also had an unusual way of conversing. Even if she didn’t really have anything to bring to the table about whatever subject had come up, she’d nevertheless valiantly and enthusiastically try to join in. She asked me if I was going anywhere nice this year. I told her that I was going to Australia soon and Canada later in the year. At which point she enthusiastically declared, “really?! Wow! Well I actually used to know someone who went to Canada once, and said it was very nice.” There was a bit of a pause, before she added, “so, yes.” Granted, her “so yes,” wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as her opening line about the person she once knew going to Canada once, as if she’d realised that actually her fact wasn’t really that interesting or unusual to warrant the amount of excitement she’d supplied it with.

However, in fairness, you could argue that I’m now spending my time writing about what the woman said, in a bid to try and impart a reasonably entertaining anecdote for a blog, which is arguably worse. At least this woman probably knew that her comment and our conversation was just throw-away and unimportant, whereas I am analysing it and writing about it in a blog. So who’s really the weird one here? The answer is her, definitely her.

My favourite line of hers was when we were looking for peas. “Well, you know what they say about peas,” she said. I didn’t know what they said about peas, nor did I know who “they” were who doing the saying. But when I pressed her for more information , she just giggled and said, “no no, it’s OK, never mind.” I continued to press her on the issue. She’d peaked my curiosity. But she just giggled and said that she didn’t want to say.

But I couldn’t let it go. I told her that she couldn’t just come out with an incongruous line about peas and then refuse to supply further information. Why did she mention the peas thing in the first place if she wasn’t prepared to talk about it? Was this some secret code? Maybe she was part of a secret society who demonstrate they’re a part of the secret society with the line, “well you know what they say about peas.” At which point, if the other person responds with the second half of the sentence then they prove that they are also in the secret society. Maybe “are you going anywhere nice this year?” was also meant as a demonstration of secret society identity. Perhaps I’d inadvertently answered correctly by telling her that I’m going to Australia and Canada, and she had given the appropriate response in return, which would explain why what she’d said didn’t really make much conversational sense, and seemed odd to someone who wasn’t part of the secret society. Then I asked for food that she’d never heard of before, and maybe this started her to doubt that I actually was one of her own, and so added the comment about the peas as a test.

I put all of this to the shop assistant, but to be honest, I think I’d lost her at about the time that I said “incongruous.” If she’d never heard of cherry tomatoes or spring onions then a none-colloquial four syllable word probably wasn’t in her lexicon either.

I began to realise that I was now probably at the point that I should just let the whole peas thing go. She clearly didn’t want to tell me, and I think she might have been a bit intimidated by my insistence that she told me. I was also getting a bit irritated, because I really wanted to know what the bloody hell she was going on about. I think I was letting my irritation visibly manifest itself in the form of me twirling my cane around in front of me, which might have looked a bit threatening.

She just kept nervously giggling and refusing to tell me. “I don’t want to say, it’s rude,” she said. At this point I thought that I might have cottoned onto what she was referring to.

“Are you suggesting that peas make you fart? Is that what you’re driving at?”

I think I was sounding a bit like an austere father, berating her immaturity. The actual reason for my annoyance and incredulity was because I was disappointed if this was all that the last two minutes of interrogation had been leading to.

“Yes,” she giggled. “Peas peas, good for your heart, the more you eat them, the more you
…” and then she giggled some more, in place of the word “fart.”

“I’ve heard that little poem being said about beans,but not peas,” I replied.

There was a pause, her giggling stopped, and then she said, “oh yes, it’s beans isn’t it? Not peas.”

After all that. Although, in fairness, peas do have similar fart-inducing properties as well, so her variant on the traditional poem does technically work.

Later on, she asked me what I was making for tea “with all these exotic vegetables.” I told her that I’m roasting them with chicken, fresh herbs and spices. She sounded impressed. I asked her what she was eating tonight, and she said that she normally ate fish fingers or sausages, “so probably that.”

“Well you know what they say about fish fingers and sausages?” I said, and began to nervously giggle.

“no, what? What do they say?”

“No no, I can’t say.” I increased my nervous giggling.

“No, come on, I want to know.”

“OK, OK. Fish fingers and sausages, you really are a chancer, as eating them significantly increases your risk of cancer. Fish fingers and sausages are bad for your heart, but at least on the plus side they don’t make you fart, although, actually, they probably do.”

I didn’t say that last bit, obviously. I am a nice person, or at least in person I am nice; I am rather judgemental when I’m writing about people for a blog.

In March I will regale you with tales from my exploits in Australia, but for now, it’s stories about shopping in Sainsburys.

Back tomorrow.

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Dollop 52 – Fairy Tales

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Well I was massively impressed/concerned about Sean’s aptitude when it came to discussing flowers and decorations with the staff at the wedding fair. I tried to look as if I understood all the different options that we were being presented with. I just kept nodding away when she was talking, in what I hoped would appear to resemble nodding sagely, but then I realised that being blind, I have no idea what it looks like when someone nods sagely, and so gave it up in case I just looked like a weird compulsively nodding idiot.

But Sean seemed rather self-assured and aware of the right questions to ask. Granted, he’d probably been well primed by his fiancée Emily beforehand, who was unable to attend due to a work commitment. But he ably managed to have a cohesive conversation about table decorations and seat covers, which all flew straight over my compulsively nodding head.

Sean’s head was clearly so stuffed full of questions and wedding-related jargon, that his brain was seemingly unable to hold any other bits of information or thoughts that weren’t flowers or decorations relevant. This became clear when Sean was asked by the lady to spell his name, and he spelt it incorrectly. His mind was so awash with comments and questions about backdrops, drapes, sashes and goodness knows what else he was spouting on about, that this had resulted in all other thoughts about anything else being deleted. Fortunately, I was at hand and stepped into spell Sean’s name for him, which I think proves why I am the correct choice to be his best man.

There were signs all over the hotel in which the fair was being held, urging people to get hands-on and try everything. I considered putting on one of the wedding dresses and getting a photo for the blog, but thought that this might not be the kind of responsible behaviour expected of a best man. When we got up to the bridal suite, fortunately no one had taken the invitation to get hands on and try everything literally.

“Right, up on the four poster bed love, let’s give this a good try. Give us half an hour, and then we’ll let you know our thoughts. Oh, and then we need to ask you a few questions about your range of decorative seat covers.” “OK, yes, very good, we’ll take it.”

“I think one of you has done that already. Also, is this even your bride to b?e”

“Well, you told us to get hands-on and try everything. My bride to be is with this girl’s bloke, trying out the showering facilities. We’ve been coming to wedding fairs for years. A lovely way to spend a weekend. Now, talk to me about seat covers. I always find a lovely bit o seat cover chat helps me unwind after sex”.

While the three of us resisted the urge to partake in test driving the bed, we did however sample quite a lot of free canapés and Prosecco, purely for research purposes you understand; after all, I take my responsibilities as best man very seriously.

Unfortunately, all this imbibing means that I now feel very tired, and can barely keep my eyes open, let alone write a blog post. Annoyingly, I had a fifty minute train journey this morning which I could have spent writing today’s Dollop, but I wanted to wait until after the wedding fair in order to regale you with tales from the afternoon, but alas, nothing really happened of note. There was some very nice Prosecco and lots of canapés, which I drank and ate whilst listening to a lady talking about flowers and decorations. And that’s all really.

Perhaps I should have asked her if she had any amusing flower or decoration-related anecdotes that I could include in today’s Dollop, or maybe a witty story about canapés, but the drink and food had made me all slovenly and tired and I lacked the foresight to ask her. And now I’ve missed out, and some other blogger at the fair, who was completely sober and alert, has probably filled their blog with the LADY’S humorous flowers, decorations and canapé stories that should have been mine. And now I am paying the price, because I am completely defficient in ideas to write about, and I am too tired to think of anything myself. If I was more awake, I could have manufactured a hilarious story about canapés, and any other day I’d be the perfect man for such a job, but alas, not today.

If anyone reading/listening to this has any amusing canapé anecdotes, then feel free to leave a comment.

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Dollop 51 – A Proposition For Tony Blackburn

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In the taxi on the way to the train station, the driver was listening to BBC Radio 2, and the show was being presented by Tony Blackburn. I can’t believe he still talks in that voice. Fair enough, when he first started in broadcasting over fifty years ago, that was maybe thought of as a good radio voice, but it soon became parodied and ridiculed by the likes of smashie and Nicey. But, regardless, he’s resolutely stuck to that voice throughout his entire career. He sounds exactly the same now as he did fifty years ago. I wonder if he’s ever considered just talking normally on the radio. Has he never woke up and just thought, “you know what? I’m going to drop the whole nasal shtick.”

I wonder how he talks when he’s not on the radio or in public. How does he talk when he’s just at home with his friends and family? I’m sure it would make top story in the national news if he decided to go on air and drop the weird voice, giving him loads of free PR. Maybe he could do it for charity.

“We need to raise another £500000 for comic relief and then Tony Blackburn will do a radio show in his normal voice. That’s right, he’s going to blow his nose, which is apparently something he’s not done for fifty-five years, and he’s going to inflect and intonate like a normal person, not constantly going up and down, and he’s not going to do that weird shakey laughing thing when he’s talking either. If he does fall back into his usual style, then we’ll give him an electric shock, which ironically will make him do that weird shakey up and down intonation thing even more, resulting in more and more electric shocks. Oh what fun. Dig deep and give generously.”

Or he could get himself a lucrative TV advertising deal for a cold relief product. You see Tony Blackburn through the years, desperately searching the shelves of countless chemist stores, trying to find a mucus-freeing solution that will work. You see Tony as a young man in the radio studio, feverishly blowing his nose. He opens the mic fader and starts his show.

“Welcome to the exciting new sound of Radio One.”

He puts his head in his hands while a record plays. This sequence repeats a few more times, only Tony is visibly ageing. He tries tablets, nazel sprays, potions, lotions, all sorts of things, and each time he opens up the mic fader and still he sounds like a cheesy radio presenter. He tries to hang out with John Peel and all the cool alternative presenters, but none of them want to talk to him because they see him as a cheesy pop DJ. You see Tony sitting at home crying, while a Smashy and nicey sketch plays on the TV, parodying Tony’s broadcasting style. Then you see him in the studio once again, only now it’s 2016. He goes through his usual pill taking routine, and opens the mic fader. Only this time, he sounds normal, he doesn’t sound cheesy. A broad smile plays across his face, and he proudly declares in his new, sonorous, mucus-free voice, “Welcome to the exciting new sound of Tony Blackburn, brought to you by …” Insert name of cold relief product. Perhaps he then spontainiously bursts into impressive operatic rendition.

As the sound and picture fades, you see Tony hanging out with Zane Lowe and Steve Lamacq, and then you see him in the radio studio, only this time he’s on Radio one, and he’s banging out the latest dubstep tunes, and you see students outside the studio dancing, wearing T-Shirts with Tony Blackburn’s face on it.

Just a thought.

If there are any people working in advertising reading this and they fancy working with me on any ideas then I’d be happy to discuss terms. Obviously, as you’d imagine, I’m not cheep, but as you can clearly see, I’ll be worth your investment. I mean, this idea was just very quickly thrashed out on a fifty minute train journey, and already you can see the amazing potential. We could also do spin-off adverts with other nasal-voiced people, such as Chris Tarrant.

“I’ve tried everything to make me sound normal. I’ve tried mucus-clearing products from all over the world, but I can definitively say then When it comes to permanent cold relief, this is clearly my final answer.”

Must dash, otherwise I’ll miss my stop. Work in progress. Get in touch, and we’ll talk through some ideas.

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