Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

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.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

My housemate Ben works as a music technology teacher. He is currently at home as it’s half term, and is marking the student’s work, which is a rock & roll pastiche of Happy by Pharrell Williams. For the last two days I’ve heard hours and hours of rock – roll versions of this one song. The students aren’t allowed to use real instruments, as it’s testing their keyboard arranging skills, and so I’ve been listening to what essentially sounds like polyphonic ringtone rock & roll versions of the same song, which I think ramps up the torture levels even further. And even when Ben isn’t listening to his students’ work, I’ve still got the sound reverberating in my ears, and the three of us keep catching ourselves milling around the house singing the song.

“Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof,” sings Pharrell. I think trying to imagine how inanimate objects feel is a massively flawed concept. Obviously there is no way of satisfactorily being able to answer how a room without a roof might feel, however, I think it’s safe to say that in most circumstances you’d feel pretty pissed off if you lived in a house that contained rooms that didn’t possess roofs. Pharrell’s initial dream was to be an estate agent, but that didn’t turn out too well, as you’d imagine, so he became a songwriter and recording artist, although, you could argue that his song writing also leaves a lot to be desired. Let’s just say it’s no Rebecca Slater.

“Bring me down, can’t nothing bring me down, My level’s too high.” He’s clearly not referring to his level of understanding about grammar and sentence structure.

I like the fact that he starts the song with the warning, “it might sound crazy what I’m about to say.” I’m not really sure though that he really lives up to that statement, given that his next line is, “Sunshine she’s here, you can take a break.” That’s not really that crazy. If Pharrell had said, “It might sound crazy what I’m about to say,” and then followed it up with something like, “I like stripping naked and rolling around in custard whilst singing the national anthem of Azerbaijan,” then that would be different.

There seems to be a tendency for pop artists to misuse the term crazy. Carly Rae Jepsen seems to think that giving someone her phone number is crazy, “Hey, I’ve just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe,” but there’s nothing crazy about that situation at all; it’s perfectly normal to give your phone number to someone you like. Where’s Carly been living all her life? In a nunnery?

Still, it’s nice to know that in spite of Pharrell William’s basic lack of English grammar comprehension, and inability to understand the most rudimentary facets of building a house, he is nevertheless happy.

I am also happy, as yesterday I received some rather happy news, as The Young’uns’ Michael Hughes and I have been asked to be The Young’uns’ Sean Cooney’s best man at his wedding in May. I have been asked to be best man twice already, and both those weddings have fallen through, with the relationship completely breaking up. Sean doesn’t seem to have let superstition get the better of him, unless that’s the reason why he’s also asked Michael to be the best man too, as Michael has successfully been best man at two weddings, and both couples are still together. So maybe Michael is simply there to help dilute the curse, whereas I am the real best man.

One of the weddings I was meant to be best man for was Michael’s wedding. Me and Sean were asked to be the best men, but unfortunately they broke up meaning that I never got to do any of my jokes that I’d prepared for the occasion, which arguably was the greatest tragedy.

Michael decided to propose to his then girlfriend Becky at the top of the Eiffel Tower, whilst on their romantic weekend in Paris. Unfortunately Michael is afraid of heights and was unable to make it to the top, so instead decided that he’d just propose to her halfway up the tower.

“Still, in fairness, Becky’s more than used to Michael only managing to get halfway up.”

Cue roars of laughter.

I remember Becky at the time happily relating Michael’s proposal speech, in which he told her that together they could achieve anything. Fortunately, she seemed far too lovestruck in that moment to realise the irony of this statement, baring in mind that they’d just failed to get to the top of a tower together. But, as they say, love is blind, which means that technically I should be an expert on the subject, so think on that ladies.

This morning I received a text from Sean, inviting me to attend a wedding fair with him to look at things for the wedding such as flowers and decorations. I know nothing of these things, and to make me even more useless when it comes to this subject, I can’t even see them, so I don’t think I’ll be much of a help. Still, at least it’ll get me out of the house and away from the bloody constant rock & roll versions of Pharrell Williams’ Happy. Unfortunately, Sean’s fiancée Emily is not able to attend the fair because she has something on with work, so it’ll just be three clueless blokes wondering around, one of whom is extra clueless by the fact that he can’t actually look at any of the things we’re there to look at and make decisions about.

I am completely out of my depth about this sort of thing. Perhaps you can help me out a bit: are there any questions about flowers or decorations I should be asking the stall holders, simply in a bid to look a tiny bit knowledgable? What are the buzz words when it comes to decorations and flowers? Are there any terms I can casually drop in? Perhaps I should just go in all confident, bold and brash, and maybe that’ll help fool the stall holders that I know what I’m talking about.

“OK, let’s get down to the nitty gritty, and talk technical. What kind of soil have you been using to grow these flowers?”

“Right, first things first. There’s one thing you need to know about me before we get started: when it comes to decorations, I’m not the kind of guy who minces his words. I don’t want any bullshit. Right, so now we’ve established that, to business. Doilies: talk to me about your range of doilies, and leave no stone unturned. Hang on, I’ll just get my laptop out and make some comprehensive notes.”

Well, fifty Dollops in. Back tomorrow. Another day, another Dollop.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Today, I came across an old memory stick with a load of random things on, including a number of songs that I recorded between 2000 and 2006, age 15 to 21. Most of them will never see the light of day, and for good reason, but there are a few that I listened to that I actually quite liked. I think I will post some of them up as Dollops over the next couple of weeks.

The first song is called Rebecca Slater, which is about a University student’s infatuation with a girl who attends his debating classes. I’m not sure what inspired it. I was at University at the time, but I never attended debating society. I quite like the arrangement, and it was one of the few songs that didn’t make me cringe. My accent is a bit strange, but I think it’s because I’m trying to take on the persona of a posh Oxford/Cambridge University student.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I have another song about a maths student facing relationship troubles, which I wrote six years ago. It is entirely recorded apart from the vocal, which granted, is a rather important aspect of the song. Hopefully I’ll get time to finish that before heading to Australia in March. I think it’s pretty good, and it would be a bit of a waste not to ever complete it. But for now, here’s a song from my twenty-year-old self.

Download it here

Back tomorrow with my usual ramblings about something or other.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Last night I received a message from God. “I’m glad you’ve learnt your lesson,” he/she/it wrote. Well God probably didn’t actually write it himself, he probably just barks instructions to an angel or something. Maybe that’s why the bible is full of odd contradictions and weirdness, because the angel is deaf, what with all the blasting trumpets, constant harp playing, and having the voice of the almighty ringing in your ears all day long. The most famous example of God being too lazy to write was the ten commandments, which Moses wrote on God’s behalf on tablets, by which I mean tablets of stone rather than Ipads, which would have been a lot more impressive and helped convert a lot more people.

“I am the god of Kindle Fire, and I bring you … the ten commandments. Oh, and I’ve also installed the Angry Birds game for you too, for I am a benevolent God. And don’t worry about the killing. I know I said thou shalt not kill, but that doesn’t include virtual fictitious birds killing virtual fictitious pigs. However, if I catch any of you coveting any virtual fictitious oxen, I’ll smite you down. For as well as being a benevolent God, I am also a weird and confusing God.”

At first, I was rather taken aback by what I was reading: an actual message from God. But after a good half an hour of thinking, a thought began to niggle me: how did I know it was really God? Granted, the name of the commenter was God, but doubt was starting to creep into my head. Perhaps it was an imposter. They could have just typed God in the name field.

I was in a bit of a quandary, unsure of how to react. If I replied to this message by challenging the identity of the sender, then if it was God he might fly up in anger and smite me. But if I responded to the message piously and it turned out not to be God, then he’d have me for worshipping false idols, thus breaking one of his commandments. I couldn’t ignore the message and not respond, because as God admits in the ten commandments, “I am a jealous God”, which seems a bit ridiculous really, given that he lists envy as one of the seven deadly sins. So not replying wouldn’t work, as God would see that I was replying to other people and ignoring him, incurring his jealousy.

Then I had an incredibly clever plan. I called my dad and asked him what he thought I should do. Whatever my dad suggested, I would accept implicitly, without question. I figured that this might help protect me against God’s wrath if he saw that I was making an effort to live by his rules, even if I had to break one of them by my response. I’d honoured my father, which I hoped might count in my favour if I upset God by my reply. It’s useful to have points in the bag, just in case.

My dad’s suggestion was to challenge God in order to make sure it was definitely him. I thanked him for his time (I hope you took note of that God) and proceeded to type my response to the message sender who claimed to be God.

I asked the sender to prove that they were really God by telling me what I was about to eat for tea, something which an omnipotent and omnipresent God would have no trouble whatsoever in answering. But no response came. And so I think I’ve proved that the message was in fact sent by an imposter.

So I think I handled that whole situation very well indeed. But then I went and buggered everything up. I couldn’t help myself. I was just taking the rubbish out, when I saw my neighbour’s wife, and before I could stop myself, I started to covet her. I’m extra concerned because my neighbour is a bit of a lazy slob who gets his wife to do all the work around the house, while he just sits on his arse all day. So you could argue that as well as being my neighbour’s wife, she’s also my neighbour’s female servant, which means I’ve broken two commandments in one coveting session. Fortunately, my neighbour’s donkey is really smelly and so there’s no chance of me coveting that, which avoids me scoring a coveting hat-trick. Don’t worry, my neighbour won’t be reading or listening to this, as he’s far too lazy.

Apparently, in order to signify God’s ten commandments being delivered, God brought about a series of earthquakes, sent plumes of smoke into the sky and gave a blast on a trumpet, which seems like a lot of hard work for very little reward. How are people meant to know what the earthquakes, smoke and trumpeting is all about? And what the heck was the point in a trumpet? Most people would be too busy running away from the fire and falling rocks to stop and listen to a trumpet solo, even if it is a trumpet solo from the almighty. Far better for God to have had the foresight to introduce social networking to the planet a few thousand years earlier, which would have also made the tablets a lot more useful.

It also seems a bit rich and stupid to set things ablaze and cause deathly earthquakes as the precursor to instructing people that they shouldn’t kill. I think God could have done with attending a leadership course.

“OK guys, so we’re looking at effective leadership and how best to get your message across to people, and make them want to follow you. So come on guys, stick your ideas key in the engine of potential, start the ignition of innovation as we fly this aeroplane of success into blue sky thinking. Hmm, I like that, I’ll have to write that down; that’s a good one for my book. So come on guys, what do we think? Ideas. Ah, it’s God. What have you got for us God.”

“Stop taking my name in vain.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying your name. So what’s your thoughts.”

“If you want to get your message across, I find the best way is to precede your message with a series of earthquakes, a generous helping of smoke, and a little bit of a blast on the old trumpet.”

“Well, that’s certainly a novel approach God.”

“Stop taking my name in vain.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying your name.”

“You’re saying it far too casually, suggesting a level of vainness.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, for I am a forgiving God.”

“Good. Interesting suggestions, but I was thinking more along the lines of having a solid social networking presence. Are you on Twitter or Facebook, God?”

“I am omnipresent, so I am within all Twitter and Facebook accounts.”

“Well, that’s as may be, but do you have a Twitter or Facebook account of your own,God/”

“No, I prefer to communicate through the medium of stone.”

“Stone?! You mean you don’t have a social network presence at all?”

“Well, no. Never saw the point in it myself, when there’s plenty of stone around, and I’ve got the old trusty trumpet. Oh, actually, Mary did get me set up on Bebo.”

“Good god. Right, let’s take a break.”

“You definitely took my name in vain that time.”

Anyway, the good news is that there is no God news, as it was not God who commented on yesterday’s Dollop, meaning that I shall continue with this project. And so I will be back tomorrow for Dollop 49.

Download the audio version of Today’s Dollop

Last Sunday I had planned to do some stand-up. One of the reasons for doing David’s Daily Digital Dollop is to help create ideas that I could then use for stand-up comedy. I decided to perform my Richard Dawkins’ death material from Dollop 7 as a piece of stand-up. I’d linked all the various elements together and came up with some new ideas. I was pretty happy with what I’d got. I thought it had the potential to be funny, although I was massively nervous and unsure about how it would go down, being very new and unconfident about stand-up.

I had a few hours before I needed to set off, and so I thought I’d just do a quick look on the Internet to see if I could find anything else about Richard Dawkins that I could maybe add to what I’d already got. Something I read might spark an idea.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

After my Dollop from last Thursday in which I talked about the challenges of writing daily while on the road, Jools commented saying, “would it help if the Dollops were smaller?” This, incidentally, is the very same Jools who upset my poltergeist friend, who had kindly started writing some of these Dollops for me, helping to lighten the load, and so I think it’s a bit rich of her to try and offer solutions.

Also her suggestion tapped into my paranoia. Was this her anti-encore? The equivalent of the audience shouting “less, less!”? If these Dollops were shorter, then it would probably mean that I’d write the same amount, but just have to think about which bits to edit out, which would take even more time. I do edit things out, but I don’t really want to be too harsh with the editing, as I might end up deleting something that will maybe fuel an idea somewhere down the line. This exercise is as much about me learning and getting better and more creative, and also having the resilience and staying power to write everyday, regardless of obstacles. But this is not just about my resilience and staying power, it’s about yours as well. The question is: can you hadle it, Jools?

Also, if I started out with a view to writing less, most of the ideas that are generated wouldn’t ever occur because I’d reach 600 words and just stop. This would mean that I’d have to decide on a subject before writing, which often doesn’t happen. I quite like the fact that I can start out writing about one subject, but then the subject will completely change during the writing process, or by discovering something on the Internet while fact checking what I’ve written. Because when it comes to David’s Daily Digital Dollop, factual accuracy is paramount; and that’s a fact.

The Dollop about the Beastie Boys forum is a good example of when an Internet search mid-Dollop-writing can completely change the subject. One minute I was writing about the search results that come up when you type “David Eagle blind”, into Google, and then I became interested in one of the search results which was a post on the Beastie Boys forum, and so I started writing about that, which then led to a discussion of arse wiping. If I made the Dollops smaller then that kind of thing would never happen. And you surely wouldn’t want to be deprived of that kind of quality subject matter, Jools?

However, if you are concerned about the amount of time it’s taking you to digest these Dollops (and this reply won’t be helping you there, sorry), then you could probably find a tool on the Internet that will strip out all the conjunctions, and maybe reduce any longer words into their shorter equivalents. You’d probably still be able to understand what I was writing, and it would save you about thirty seconds a Dollop, which may not seem like much, but over time would accumulate and save you quite a bit.

There’s an auto-summarising tool online here that will allow you to paste in any text and choose how much you want the summariser to cut out. The default is 50 %, but you can change this number depending on how pressed for time you are. Unfortunately, it tends to ruin any jokes, because it often seems to take out the first part of the joke and just leaves the punchline. But you could then play a fun game of trying to guess the first part of the joke on the basis of the punchline, which would add an extra level of entertainment to the Dollops, without having to read 50 % of them, saving you time and improving your level of creativity in the process. Perhaps you’ll discover that you’ve thought of better openers to the jokes than I have, and you’ll eventually start your own blog which will be inspired by your guesses on my blog posts based on only reading 50 % of them. Unfortunately, if you’ve already started using the auto-summariser to read the rest of this Dollop, then there’s a 50 % chance that you won’t be reading any of this bit.

Most people seem to access the Dollops in their audio form, presumably because they find my voice arousing, plus I’m taking them into some rather exciting locations; yesterday I recorded from the Unthanks dressing room and a disabled toilet, reading the Dollop while sat on the loo. The blog posts take me about five to ten minutes to read. I think that is quite a good amount of time to explore an idea.

The archers is about twelve minutes a day, and that’s one of the most popular daily podcasts out there. And that’s full of padding; a lot of it is just farmyard ambience. I’m sure that if Archers listeners had a tool that could remove the bits in the soap where there’s just the sound of a cow mooing or a sheep bleating, then they would get back quite a lot of their lives.

If you are a Dollops podcast listener then you could save yourself up to 75 % of your listening time by using an App such as the Podcasts App on Apple Devices, which has a function to speed up the podcast up to 75 % faster. Unfortunately, I don’t think it has a tool to take out the sound of cows mooing, which is a shame because that would save you even more time, although, what that cow was doing in the disabled toilet is anyone’s guess. Still, it came in handy; well, we all have our ways to relax after a hard day’s work..

Anyway, thank you to Jools and everyone who reads and listens to these Dollops. The numbers have not dropped off, and are steadily increasing, so hopefully that’s an indication that the project is working. Tomorrow I will write something less self-referential. Today’s Dollop was just going to be a four line limerick, until I saw Jools’ comment, so if you found this too long then address your complaints to Jools. A couple of weeks ago she insulted my dead friend, and now she’s making snide remarks about the size of my Dollop – insert your own smutty punchline here, if you feel that way inclined.

This Dollop consists of a couple of songs, especially for Valentine’s day.

Download here

Happy Valentine’s day. Back tomorrow.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

I was tempted, knowing that we’d be asked the same questions by the seven BBC local radio stations we were on yesterday, to give a different answer to the one same question. I could then take recordings of all the interviews and play our different answers back to back for today’s Dollop. But perhaps this wouldn’t have been taking our PR campaign very seriously. Plus, I realised that the time and effort it would take me to visit each radio station’s website, find the show and time that we were broadcast and then edit all the clips together, would probably be ten times more labour intensive than writing a blog post. And it’s not that you’re not worth the time and effort, it’s just that I’m not sure the idea would have really been worth potentially destroying our relationship with BBC local radio for.

If it was commercial local radio then that might be different. I could take a look at each radio station’s sponsors and advertisers beforehand, and then deliberately work their rival businesses into my answer.

“So, how did you meet?”

“Well, it all started in Costa Coffee. That’s where we first met on that magical day. We were all ordering one of their delicious and affordable coffees, and there’s just something about their drinks that promotes a feeling of sociability and an atmosphere of positivity, as if the place is bristling with possibility. All these factors, which I think are synonymous with the Costa Coffee outlets, just created the perfect environment for the three of us to start chatting, and we decided that we should be in a folk group together. I know this sounds fantastical, but that’s the power of Costa Coffee, to make incredible possibilities a reality.”

“Ah, well that’s a great story guys, but I’m sure that the same thing would have happened if you’d all been in Starbucks, which personally I find to be a much better establishment.”

“Well, it’s interesting you should say that, because we realised afterwards that the three of us had actually been in Starbucks at the same time on about ten separate occasions, and strangely, we never spoke. But it was just something about the atmosphere and coffee brewed by Costa that brought the three of us to speak to each other, and that’s when the magic happened. Amazing really. So I suppose that sort of proves scientifically that Costa is better than Starbucks.”

“Well … er … well, not, as, such, because I actually have my planning meetings for this show in Starbucks, and I think that the atmosphere and coffee of Starbucks has led to making my show what it is.”

“I’m not sure you’re helping your case here.”

“no, I am, because we’ve had some great ideas in Starbucks. It was in Starbucks that I had the idea to do a mystery voice competition. It’s quite ingenious, we play a clip of a celebrity talking, and people have to ring in and say who they think it is. And it was also in Starbucks, taking a sip of one of their excellent cappuccinos, that I had the idea to do a mystery sound competition. So, for instance, we might play a mooing sound, and people then ring in to guess what it is. And then when someone says cow, we give them a free pencil. Oh shit, I’ve just given away the answer to the competition. And now I’ve just said shit. Fuck, they’re going to sack me! Fuck, and now I’ve just said fuck. They’re definitely going to sack me!”

“Well, if I were you, I’d get yourself to Costa Coffee where you’re almost certain to meet your next boss who’ll offer you more money to work on a better radio station.”

u“Well, actually, now that I’m going to get fired from here anyway, I have no qualms in recommending Costa, in spite of the fact that we’re sponsored by Starbucks. I shall take your advice. Thank you so much David. I think you’ve really helped me. I was wanting to get out of this shithole and work somewhere else, so you’ve saved my bacon. And when it comes to bacon, then you really should get yourself to Thompson’s Butchers, located on the highstreet opposite the … No, hang on, what am I doing? I don’t need to say this shit anymore. Thompson’s is terrible. They put hideous amounts of water and chemicals in the meat. Haha, this feels great! I feel free! I can do whatever I like. Right, well I was meant to play Simply Red at this point, but sod that, here’s Cradle Of Filth. Haha, I’m free! Thank you, thank you so much David!”

“No problem, although, I’ve just been thinking, and I’ve remembered that actually it was Starbucks where we met, not Costa. The magic happened in Starbucks.”

When we first started, I used to record every interview we did, but now we do so many that I’ve given up bothering. It’s not as if I’m going to listen to these years in the future, and if there ever is a point where I get a sudden urge to listen to our interview of thirty years ago on BBC Radio Merseyside, then something has gone terribly wrong with my life.

I’ve been writing this blog post in The Young’uns’ van, although it has not been as difficult as I thought it was going to be yesterday. It’s been hard writing a blog post at 630 in the morning after four hours of sleep, but Michael has travelled separately in his car because he is seeing his girlfriend afterwards and therefore travelling a different route back, meaning that I’ve actually had some space to write.

The audio versions of these on-the-road blogs should make for interesting listening, as they are likely to be recorded from some rather odd environments. Yesterday I recorded sitting on cross legged on some stairs between dressing rooms, with the laptop on my lap, my Braille display on top of that, and my digital recorder positioned on top of that. People kept walking past me wondering what on earth was going on. At one point my blog reading was interrupted by Adrian from the Unthanks who decided that he fancied a chat. But I hope that these weird locations and odd interruptions will make for an interesting listening experience, rather than an annoying one. To be honest, the interruptions were probably more entertaining than the actual written content I was reading.

I finished editing the audio up until a minute before going on stage, and then uploaded the podcast and published the blog to the website during the interval, which was a close thing given Middlesbrough Town Hall’s slow WIFI. But I managed to get everything online for about 930. But this challenge is just as much a practical one as a creative one, as I am at the mercy of WIFI access. If I can’t get online at our gig in Manchester then the podcast version won’t be uploaded until after midnight, when I’m back home in Sheffield. So far I’ve managed to publish both audio and written versions everyday for 43 days. Maybe if there isn’t any WIFI at the gig I could pop into a starbucks, or a Costa, I don’t mind and I don’t really drink in either of them, but I am happy to use them for their WIFI.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

It’s just gone 8am and I’m on the bus, heading to Middlesbrough for four hours of radio interviews. I used to regularly write blog posts on the bus when I did a daily commute to and from work, which involved a two hour journey each way. At that time, I think that this was one of the things that was keeping me sane, which is somewhat ironic given the absurd, crazy, ridiculous nonsense that I was writing about.

I am not properly awake yet. I am struggling to keep my eyes open, which granted isn’t really as much of an issue as it would be for most people. I read an article once that suggested that the brain could be at its most creative first thing in the morning; Something about still being in the alpha brain wave frequency, but don’t rely on me to be your science oracle. The disadvantage of writing blog posts on the bus is that I don’t have the same access to the Internet as usual, meaning that I can’t do some cursory Internet research, and then write about a subject as if I was an expert on that thing. These on-the-road Dollops have the potential to out me for the ignorant idiot that I am. I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of proving the study correct. I feel tired and my brain is foggy, although in fairness to the study, the test conditions were probably rather diffferent to this environment. I doubt any experiments relating to this idea took place on a freezing bus that’s been stopped at the same bus stop for fifteen minutes with the door open, because we’re ahead of schedule, which I think potentially would have put a different spin on the results.

It’s odd to consider, given how I feel now, that in about 90 minutes, we will be squatting in a cupboard singing. If you didn’t read or listen to yesterday’s Dollop, don’t worry, this is not some odd kinky thing I’m going to be getting up to; it’s just that the radio studio is the size of a tiny cupboard and there’s only one microphone, set on the desk at a fixed height, which the three of us have to squat at in order to sing.

Still, as grumpy and tired as I’m feeling right now, deep down I know that I am very lucky. I was speaking to a friend last night who works as a nurse and had just come off a thirteen hour gruelling shift, and she has to do the same today. It’s a thankless task much of the time, with worried family members of patients taking their frustrations and fear out on the you, not to mention people dying on you, which very rarely happens when we gig, apart from when Michael unwisely strives for that high note. But it’s clear that we have it easy in comparison. Although, you could argue that our jobs do tie in together. Someone dies on the ward, and we come along, see if they’ve done anything that we could write a folk song about. There’s nothing like a dead person with a story to get Sean’s heart racing, although hopefully not
racing at a speed that would require him to need a nurse. At which point, another folk songwriter would be set to standby in case they needed to write a ballad about Sean. Although has he really done anything of note to write a ballad about? Whereas me, on the other hand: people will be singing ballads about my harrowing 365 consecutive daily blogging project for centuries.

“Is it true granddad? What they sing about? Is it all really true?”

“Aye lad. Just type David Eagle Blind into Google and you’ll find him. I remember my dad reading David’s Daily Digital Dollop to me every bed time. My favourites were his stories about his kettle. I’ll never forget the day when he read me David’s Dollop called, Young Hungarian Fat Gay Boys And watery Cat Faeces. That was a real right of passage. He read it to me, and said, “you’re a man now son, a real man”. But you’re a bit too young for that one. Maybe when you’re six.”

Tomorrow we set off to Manchester from Hartlepool at 630 in the morning. We’re doing a singing workshop between 10 and 3, and then heading to play a gig in Manchester on the evening. So it’ll be another early morning writing session for me as I try to type up the Dollop in the van on the way to Manchester. This will be somewhat of a physical and spacial challenge, as our van doesn’t afford the three of us much room. In order for whoever is driving to change gear, they have to put their hand between the legs of the person next to them, or at least that’s what they tell me anyway. There is also no elbow space between the two passengers, and so it will be nearly physically impossible to type, not to mention trying to find the energy and inspiration to write at 630 in the morning, after only a few hours sleep the night before. I also need to find somewhere to record the audio version. But, when I took on this challenge I knew that these issues would exist. My challenge is to write, record and publish a blog post and podcast everyday, regardless of how busy we are and any practical problems. And if that means elbowing Sean or Michael repeatedly in the ribs then so be it. They should consider it an honour to be physically abused for such a noble and important reason.

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

Tomorrow will probably pose the greatest challenge so far to this consecutive daily blogging project. I will be spending the first half of the day in a cupboard. I am not attempting some kind of highly watered down, poor man’s David Blaine stunt, whereby I spend four hours in a cupboard without food or water. I shall be joined in the cupboard by Michael and Sean, from my folk group The Young’uns. The cupboard is situated in the building that houses the radio station BBC Tees, and has been optimistically labelled a studio by the people at the station. It is tiny, can barely fit the three of us in, and has very rudimentary technology.

We’ve been in this cupboard before. There is only enough room for two chairs. There are only two sets of headphones and one microphone. We’ve even performed songs in this cupboard, which involves the three of us squatting at the microphone, very close to each other, while we attempt to sing in a very tight awkward space and position. That is what we shall be doing for four hours tomorrow.

We are doing a series of interviews from this one cupboard for a number of different BBC local radio stations. We will be put in the cupboard and then basically left to our own devices for four hours. A phone will ring on the desk, and upon pressing a button on the tiny unit, we will be connected to the radio station. We’ll then get asked a series of questions, perform a live song, squatting intimately together by the one microphone, with no previous level checks and with no idea how it’s actually sounding. When that interview is finished, we will then be disconnected from that station, the phone will ring again, we’ll press the button to answer, be put through to another radio station, get asked the exact same list of questions, have an intimate squat and a sing, be disconnected, and so the cycle continues.

We start with an interview on BBC Tees at 945 until 1030. At 1030 we are on Bbc Radio Lincs until 11. Then at 11, we get connected to BBC York, until 1130. At 1130 we are handed over to BBC Bristol. Then, straight after that we are contacted by BBC Radio Wiltshire. Immediately following this is a chat and a song with BBC Radio Merseyside, and straight after that, at 13:00, we are connected to BBC Cumbria. At 130 we finally exit the cupboard with a new perspective on life, decide that four hours squatting intimately in a cupboard with the same two people has pushed us to the brink, and consequently disband the group, therefore making the last four hours completely redundant.

If you’re a crazy person, then you could use the above list as a schedule and tune into all the shows. You’ll probably hear three people becoming audibly more and more insane with each passing interview.

We’ve had nearly two months off, and I feel as if I should have been spending that time mentally preparing myself for the moment that I spend four hours squatting in a tiny cupboard with the same two people, being asked the same questions over and over again. Perhaps I could have spent the time developing some technology that is able to do the interviews on our behalf. I could have fed all our answers to previous radio interviews into a computer, and then programmed the computer with a load of key words pertaining to each answer. When a presenter asks a question, the computer will check the list of key words and choose the most appropriate answer based on the best match. Given that I had a couple of months off, I’d probably have had time to make even more complex enhancements to the system, including programming the computer to detect the presenter’s intonation and inflection to register when a presenter might be making a joke, at which point the computer can choose from a series of Young’uns laughter clips, taken from previous interviews, ranging from mildly amusing up to side-splittingly hilarious.

This invention would save us the hassle of having to actually answer the questions. We could be sat outside the cupboard getting on with something else, and we’d only need to interrupt the Young’uns radio-interview-autopilot system if the presenter said something off the general script that the machine was struggling to find an appropriate response for. If such a moment occurred, the computer would then resort to playing out a series of hesitation clips until one of us came back into the cupboard and took over manual control. This hesitation collection would consist of a number of “er” sounds, “hmms”, throat clearings, and other miscellaneous filler sounds.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been spending my two months off on such a project, and so we’re just going to have to resort to the original plan of squatting in a tiny cupboard for four hours. If there are any engineers or computer programmers reading who fancy helping us develop this system, then feel free to get in touch.

After the four hours of radio interviews, we then have a meeting with an accountant. Following this we head to Middlesbrough town hall to do a sound check for the evening’s gig, our first gig of the year. I won’t get back home until about midnight, so I’ll be out all day, meaning that I’ll somehow have to write, read, edit and upload the audio and written versions of tomorrow’s Dollop during the day, in between all the various things that are scheduled. I started writing today’s blog post at 3 O’clock, and it’s now 4 O’clock. I could technically write another Dollop today, for tomorrow, and schedule it to be published for sometime the following day, but a part of me relishes the challenge of succeeding writing, recording and publishing on the road, plus I am too lazy to write any more today. If you are at the gig tomorrow and you see me typing on stage, then you know that things have gotten serious. I think that that might be a step too far, although it would be impressive if I could sing and type at the same time, perhaps typing in rhythm to what we’re singing. This would take multitasking to a whole new level.

Back tomorrow, definitely, even at the risk of being massively anti-social and possibly ruining a gig. At least I’m getting paid for this crazy venture though, hey? Oh, hang on … I am an idiot.