Comedian and Folk Singer. Winner Edinburgh’s Spirit of the Fringe 2024, Best Variety Show Leicester Comedy Festival 2024, Nominee Best Show Edinburgh Fringe 2024. As heard on BBC Radio 4’s “The Now Show” and seen on “Rosie Jones’s Disability Comedy Extravaganza”. From three-time BBC Radio 2 Folk Award winning band The Young'uns.
It’s 5 O’clock in the morning and Sean and I are in The Young’uns van, heading to Heathrow Airport. I always get mounting paranoia towards flight departure time regarding my passport. I definitely have it, I have checked multiple times, yet this doesn’t seem to temper the feeling of unease for long, and I have to check my bag again. This paranoia is most likely due to previous passport-related dramas that I’ve either experienced or know about.
In 2007, a sea shanty group from Teesside which Sean and I were in at the time, were booked to perform at a festival in Norway. The journey began with Sean and I getting on the first bus from Hartlepool to Middlesbrough, at 6am, a journey that would take less than twenty minutes in a car but takes just over an hour on bus. At 7am we arrived at Middlesbrough where we were picked up by one of the other group members. We got in their car and drove to a couple more destinations in Middlesbrough where we picked up some more people. We then began our journey to Manchester airport.
Five minutes into the journey someone jokingly said, “just to make sure we’ve all remembered our passports?” I was 100 % convinced that I had remembered, after all, I am not an idiot. But since everyone was getting their passports out and checking, I got mine out too. And indeed, as I already knew, it was there. As I said, I’m not an idiot, or in other words I’m not a Michael Hughes. But I’ll recount that story later.
I pulled out my passport, which opened onto one of the pages. It was then that it all unravelled. Sean noticed the expiry date written on the passport. My passport was over a year out off date. There was no point me continuing my journey. I was driven back to Middlesbrough bus station, said goodbye to the others who recommenced their trip to Norway without me, while I waited at the bus stand for nearly half an hour for the next 36 bus to take me back to Hartlepool. I then got back on the same bus that I’d been on an hour earlier, and when I say the same bus, that is precisely what I me, because I also had the exact same driver who had taken me the opposite direction an hour before, and was rather amused to see me back on his bus with my suitcase and to hear of my plight.
I arrived back home just over an hour later. I’d set off from my house just before 6am, and rather than it being a journey to Norway, it was a round trip taking in such sights as the 36 bus, and Middlesbrough’s bus station, and I was back home just after 9am.
I then had some breakfast and headed to the post office, where I’d gone to less than twenty-four hours earlier in order to change some British money into euros. Less than twenty-four hours later they were back into pounds, although with a few pounds lost due to exchange rates.
But at least I didn’t forget my passport. Only an idiot would do that. In 2008, The Young’uns very own Michael Hughes was at Heathrow Airport, heading to Singapore for a couple of weeks, a much more lengthy and expensive journey than three days in Norway. Upon arriving at the airport check-in area, he realised that he’d forgotten his passport. In fairness, at least he then had the presence of mind to formulate a plan.
He called his mother and arranged for her to fly from Teesside to Heathrow Airport. If she was going to make it in time, she would have to leave the house immediately and time every traffic light perfectly. So out of the house she figuratively flew, and then into Heathrow Airport she literally flew. She didn’t actually see Michael, because he’d already been whisked into a special area where he was being held, and his mother was unable to pass through that way for security reasons. So she had to hand the passport to a member of airport security. Michael’s mother then got straight back on the next plane to Teesside. The member of security staff brought the passport to Michael, who hastily went through the rest of the checks in order to board the plane just in the nick of time. Except, then they found the drugs …
I hope my ability to influence events with this blog don’t prove true today, given that yesterday I wrote about crashing into the Indian Ocean. But my main concern is that my airport anal cavity search dream I wrote about in January comes true. If it does come true, then maybe I could get Sean to film the experience and I could do a Digital dollop whilst someone has their hand up my arse. I don’t know whether that would be a ratings booster or a crippler. I suppose it dpends how many friends you can bring to the table Chloe.
So, we should arrive at the airport at about 830. We then have to go through all the various checks, which hopefully doesn’t involve my anal cavity. Our flight is at 12, and so I am counting on having an hour to record and publish the audio version, providing there is WIFI. I will then be on a plane for twenty-two hours. Tomorrow’s Dollop will probably be written and maybe even recorded on the plane. It’s all very unpredictable and hopefully exciting, rather than just coming across to you as boring logistical talk. I think it will be more interesting for the listeners to the audio Dollops, given the variety of locations I am going to have to try and record from. I’m not sure how practical it’s going to be recording from an airport, and I think a plane might be rather awkward.
Don’t worry, I’ll be home from Australia in a month’s time, and we can get back to covering your favourite subjects, such as my trips to Sainsberry’s and anecdotes about my kettle. But for now, you’ll just have to put up with hearing about my adventures down under, adventures which most certainly don’t involve inappropriate vegetable-based activity.
Onwards and upwards, and then hopefully downwards and onwards again.
The vast majority of these Dollops have been written with me sitting on my bed in my house in Sheffield. Tomorrow’s Dollop will be written in the car on the way to Heathrow Airport, and then … Who knows what will happen after that. I will be in Australia with my folk group The Young’uns for nearly a month.
The majority of people access these Dollops in their audio form, and I think it is going to be the audio aspect of the Dollops that will pose the greatest challenge. For a start, there is the issue of finding somewhere to record the audio. Tomorrow for instance, I will be in a car, at an airport and then on a plane. There are no other locations that I will be tomorrow other than those three, unless something has gone awry, in which case the Digital Dollop will be the least of my concerns, while I am stranded in the middle of an ocean amongst the wreckage. Although, if I somehow manage to pull off a Dollop from the middle of an ocean then that would be incredible, and would get me great publicity.
Not only would I have to record the Dollop whilst treading water or clinging on to a bit of plane, but then I’d also have to somehow utilise my laptop in order to edit and upload the audio. Actually, I think I could probably get away with not editing the audio on this occasion. I don’t think anyone is going to think, “well, I’m impressed that he’s managed to still do a Dollop after an emergency exit into the middle of an ocean, but his editing skills are rather under par, in fact, I’d go so far as to say he’s not done any editing at all. There are loads of mistakes in this, especially those bits when he gets water in his mouth, which ideally would have been edited out, as they’re completely unfathomable.”
I’ve no idea how I’d manage to read my Braille display whilst treading water. I’d have to rest my laptop and Braille display on top of some plane debris, or maybe Sean would volunteer his head, after all, it’s a very noble cause. Although, I think that if the plane did crash land in an ocean, and I somehow managed to survive the crash and keep my recording equipment in tact, then I don’t think I’d actually be bothering to read the Dollop that I had written an hour or so before this whole episode occurred. I think it’s safe to say I’d probably go off script for that day’s Dollop. It’s not as if I’m going to start the recording as normal: “David’s Daily Digital Dollop, Dollop 68 … oh, if you’re wondering what that noise is, our plane has crashed into the Indian Ocean, but that hadn’t happened when I wrote this Dollop, so we won’t be talking about that today. Must stick to the script, ever the professional. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow when I’ve properly written it up on my laptop, but right now, here’s today’s Dollop all about a rather amusing conversation I had with one of the airline stewards.”
Even if I somehow did manage to record that day’s Dollop from the ocean, I would still then need to upload it to the Internet, and I bet the Indian Ocean has really crap WIFI. And these are the kinds of problems I am no doubt going to face whilst in Australia, because not only do I need to find the time and space to write the Dollop, but then I need to find somewhere to read the Dollop out for the audio version, edit out all my mistakes because my Braille reading is terrible, and then find somewhere that has WIFI. I can’t use my mobile phone internet connection because I’m in Australia and that would cost hundreds of pounds, plus I can’t upload the podcast over a 3G or 4G connection, due to the way my web servers are setup.
I was thinking of writing and recording some emergency Dollops tonight, that I could schedule to publish in case I don’t manage to release one, but that would require me doing them tonight, and I still need to pack, so that’s not going to happen, plus I like the idea of the uncertainty aspect.
I should have no issue uploading the written version of tomorrow’s Dollop from the airport, as I could use my mobile Internet connection if necessary, but I will need WIFI in order to upload the audio. So, this is a warning to Dollop listeners that tomorrow could well be the first day I fail to get the audio Dollop released.
I know that the original premise of this challenge was to release a daily blog post for everyday of this year, and currently that challenge still stands, however I think that even if I logistically can’t do that, I will still write a Dollop everyday, and I might just have to release them retrospectively. But we shall see how it all pans out.
The Young’uns very own Sean Cooney came around to my house today. I know, check me out, a real-life genuine celebrity, in my house. You pretend not to be jealous, but I know you are. He popped in with his fiancée Emily because they wanted my housemate Ben to provide a witness signature on some paperwork relating to their upcoming Marriage.
Sean decided that Ben would be better placed to sign the document than me because he wasn’t sure on the validity of a blind person acting as a witness, testifying that both Emily and sean have signed the paperwork. I’m not sure whether claiming that I heard them both sign would really hold much weight.
However, despite Ben’s apparent better suitability, I am personally still not entirely convinced that the paperwork is truly valid, because Ben has been throwing-up all day and is feeling disorientated and weak; therefore, I am not sure that he was really in a fit state to have signed the paper saying that he had witnessed Sean and Emily’s signatures being added. It could have been a hallucination for all he knows.
If there is anyone reading this who is responsible for monitoring such legal matters, then I am presenting the facts to you as they stand, as I believe is my legal obligation. Sean and Emily definitely came to my house this afternoon, or at least two people who sounded like Sean and Emily came around this afternoon. I admit though, at the time, I did not think to interrogate them both in order to be sure. Then both Sean and Emily signed the legal document, or at least I heard a sound that resembled pen on paper, but I cannot say for certain that it definitely was. Ben, who, by his own admission, had been feeling dizzy and sick all day, then appeared to sign the document as well, attesting that he had witnessed Sean and Emily’s signature. I cannot offer any more information than that. I will leave it in your hands to decide how to proceed.
As best man, it gives me no pleasure at all to pour doubt on the validity of my friends’ upcoming matromony, but I feel that it is my legal duty to point all this out. I have gotten into enough trouble with the law this year, so I feel as if I really can’t afford to hide such truths from the authorities.
I then had a feel of Sean and Emily’s ring, by which I am referring to their metal token of marriage, in case you were confused and thought that they had got both me and Ben to fondle their backsides, claiming that it was a legal requirement as stated in the paperwork. Me being blind, and Ben being ill, we would be easy targets for such a kinky fabrication. But again, let me stress, in case the legal powers are reading this: I am referring to their piece of jewellery. It was definitely not their backsides, unless their backsides are made out of metal. Oh, hang on, maybe they weren’t the real Sean and Emily, maybe they were robot versions, hence the metal arses. Come to think of it, when I asked them both if they were well, they answered with “affirmative.” I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
I held Sean’s ring in my hand. This is the closest to Young’uns-based erotica that we’re ever gooing to get. I don’t think there is any Young’uns erotic fan fiction on the Internet, although I haven’t checked, so feel free to let us know if I’m wrong Chloe. Our fans aren’t even good enough to have set up a Wikipedia page about us, and so it would be a bit odd if someone had created a fan fiction site before we got a Wikipedia page. Feel free to start one by the way you ungrateful disloyal good-for-nothings. I am suggesting that you do a Wikipedia page for us, rather than a fan fiction site, just in case you were unsure. Other folk groups have Wikipedia pages. Bellowhead has one,Lau has one. What’s wrong with our fans? Why are you all so lazy? And while you’re at it, what about a Wikipedia page for me? Jools: don’t even think about it; but the rest of you … Come on.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was fondling Sean’s ring. As I’ve mentioned previously in these Dollops, I am not really good at this whole marriage thing. I don’t have any sage words of advice to offer about table decorations and flowers, as became patently clear at the wedding fair, and similarly, I don’t feel like I’m in a good position to be able to offer anything by way of an adequate comment about rings. To me, it just felt like a round bit of metal. But, “it’s a round bit of metal” didn’t really seem like a particularly suitable comment. So I just went “aaaaaah,” in what I thought sounded like a nice, sentimental sort of sound, and hoped that that would suffice as a reasonable reaction.
Then I had a fondle of Emily’s ring. It was a bit thicker than Sean’s with an indent in it, but again, it just felt like a round bit of metal. I went for the “aaaaaah” gambit again. I mean, if the two of them were in fact robots, then they are probably struggling to assimilate appropriate human emotion just as much as I am.
Well, I think that my tale there was probably the most exciting, dramatic and gripping story about a ring that has ever been written. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’ll struggle to name a better one.
I said yesterday that today would be my penultimate Dollop from England before I head to Australia, but actually tomorrow will probably be the penultimate Dollop from England, as I’ll probably write and record Tuesday’s Dollop on the way to Heathrow Airport. There are going to be some challenges ahead of me in regards to the Daily Digital Dollop project. Finding a location to record the audio versions is probably going to pose some challenges. I’ll probably have to try and record Tuesday’s Dollop in the waiting area of Heathrow Airport, which hopefully has WIFI. Does anyone know about the Internet facilities of Heathrow? If I manage to continue releasing daily Dollops for the entire month I am in Australia, then it will be an incredible feat. But more ruminations on that tomorrow. In the meantime, get cracking on with a Wikipedia article about me, and do one for The Young’uns as well, you lazy slobs.
There are therefore quite a lot of police patrolling the streets of Sheffield. I’ve decided to stay in the house out of trouble, partly because of my encounter with the rioters in January in which I could arguably be seen as one of the key inciters, but mainly because I am acutely aware that if I accidentally get caught up in the fighting then the police will most likely target me as one of the main culprits. After all, I am probably already on their radar after my criminal behaviour on the tram.
I can hear the chanting from my window, with both tribes coming out with the usual jibes to taunt each other, leading to the inevitable violence after the match. It started out with Sheffield goading the proud men of Rotherham with a chant of: “our life expectancy is rising faster than yours! Our life expectancy is rising faster than yours.” A chant that has been a staple in the Sheffielder’s repertoire since 2008, when the most recent set of public health statistics came out, citing dramatic improvements in quality of life in Sheffield. This report struck right at the heart of the proud men of Rotherham, a heart that is statistically more likely to suffer disease and impairment compared to a Sheffielder’s.
The Sheffielders then move onto a chant about the severe Rotherham floods of 2007. The proud tribesmen of Rotherham respond with a chant of their own: “Centenary Washlands! Centenary Washlands!” they sing, referring to Rotherham’s recently installed wetland and flood storage and defence facilities.
But then the Sheffielders launch into an uproarious chant all about the Rotherham child abuse scandal, and then start waving flags baring the 2012 Times newspaper article which first brought the incident to the public’s attention. There is little that the proud men of Rotherham can offer as means of adequate retaliation. A few Rotherham tribesmen continue shouting “Centenary Washlands, Centenary Washlands,” but they soon realise that it sounds utterly pathetic and feeble against the sea of Sheffielders’ flags and child abuse chants.
I wonder how football chants become adopted. Does one man have the idea for a chant and then just starts singing it, in the hope that everyone else will join in? The reason chants work is because they are a collective experience, and it would be a bit embarrassing to start off a chant you’ve made up, only to realise that no one else seems to be interested in joining in, resulting in you awkwardly just petering out, feeling a bit humiliated. On the other hand, it must be a wonderful feeling to come up with an idea for a chant, launch into it and gradually hear more and more voices joining in and taking up the song, until eventually there are thousands of voices singing it.
I can understand how some chants easily catch on, like just chanting the name of the football team to a two-note tune, but I’m amazed at the complexity of some of the chants, and how they ever become adopted.
When I used to go to Hartlepool matches as a child – by which I mean I was a child, I didn’t go to the matches in fancydress, pretending to be a child – the crowd would all sing, “I’m pooly til I die, I’m pooly til I die.” Baring in mind that people from Teesside pronounce the word poorly as pooly, this chant just sounded like we were making an observation about the low life expectancy and overall weak health of our town.
The other odd chant was “there’s only one Hartlepool,” which as far as boasts go isn’t really up to much. We’re essentially just saying that there is only one town that has the name Hartlepool. There are only one of most towns in the country, and I’m doubtful wether the exceptions to the rule would really be too put out by the fact that they have to share their name with somewhere else. It’s not as if a load of Newcastle United supporters are going to hear us chanting “there’s only one Hartlepool,” and think, “shit, they’ve got a point, where as we have to share our name with sodding Newcastle-Under-Lyme. Man, I feel depressed now, and the fact that we’re in the premiership offers nothing in the way of comfort. Bloody Hartlepool, they have all the luck.”
Back tomorrow with my penultimate blog before I head to Australia. If you’re a new reader to these Dollops then I’m off to Australia with my folk band The Young’uns; I’m not being transported because of my tram ticket dodging crimes.
I’ve realised that the last two Dollops have probably painted me as a bit insane, and I don’t think today’s Dollop is really going to help convince you otherwise. It features three songs written and recorded by me in my teens. Psycho’s World was recorded when I was eighteen. Metaphorical Murder was recorded when I was nineteen. And then there is the Vegan song, recorded at the age of just fourteen.
Prepare your ears for an onslaught of death metal and dark, sinister and ludicrous lyrics.
Don’t worry, I’ll write a nice Dollop tomorrow about pretty flowers and fluffy kittens, although be reassured that this time the kittens won’t have diarrhoea
Listeners to yesterday’s audio Dollop were treated to a spontaneous outburst of anger, which stemmed from a combination of things.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s Dollop, I was feeling uninspired and my brain was foggy, although I did manage to come up with something decent in the end I think. Then, when I went to record the audio version, the microphone wouldn’t work and was just generating a series of crackles and hisses. I spent about an hour trying different things to fix the problem, but nothing I tried made any difference.
Ben was due home at 830, and I’d said that I’d make food for his return, and it was now 745. My microphone was making quite an interesting collage of crackles and hisses, and I started to consider maybe just cutting my losses and claiming that today’s Dollop was a weird ambient electronic composition. Perhaps this technological setback would actually prove to be an incredible stroke of good fortune. Maybe someone from BBC Radio 3 would stumble across my composition and commission it for broadcast. I could retrospectively make up some balderdash about what it’s “meant to represent”, maybe plonk a few synths over the top in order to make it seem more of a planned composition rather than just a case of me pressing record, letting the broken mic buzz away for fifteen minutes while I prepared dinner. But then I remembered my limerick about zeak and the leak, and realised what a shame it would be if the world was denied this poetic work of genius. Plus, there’s no reason why someone at BBC Radio 3 or 4 shouldn’t stumble across the Dollop and then comission me to do a poetry series; no reason why not at all.
So I attached my digital recorder to the tripod and started recording. But then I couldn’t find my keyboard in order to load the written Dollop for reading. I stormed around my room in anger, trying to find the lost keyboard, at which point I tripped over the tripod which brought the recorder crashing to the floor, causing the tripod to break into pieces. I then spent another five minutes reassembling the tripod. It was then that I realised that the keyboard had been right next to me all along, meaning that the last five minutes had been a pointless waste of time. Then I lost my headphones, which I’d put down somewhere when I’d been looking for the keyboard, resulting in another search around the room. More swearing ensued. At this point, I realised that I’d not given the warning at the start about their being swearing in the Dollop, for the simple reason that the actual Dollop I was about to read didn’t contain any swearing, although it actually turned out to be my most sweary recording so far.
So if you choose to read the Dollops rather than listen, this is the kind of extra excitement you’re missing out on, and I don’t charge any extra for it. The angry introduction was probably more entertaining than the actual Dollop, although sadly I am doubtful that it would garner the interest of someone at BBC Radio 3.
By the time I’d finished the recording it was 8 o’clock, meaning that I really needed to start making dinner. I then wasted five minutes searching for a knife in the kitchen which I couldn’t find, and so gave up and used an eating knife instead. Perhaps it was fate intervening, knowing that I was too angry to be trusted with a sharp knife. My inability to locate a proper knife caused my anger to resurface once more, and when Elsa walked into the kitchen, she saw me aggressively tearing at the butter with my fingers and angrily slamming it into the wok.
Elsa is normally very quick to read the Dollops, in fact it’s one of the terms and conditions of her living with me. She’ll often make some jocular reference about it when we next see each other around the house. I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t yet managed to release that day’s Dollop, and so she was massively confused upon hearing the words, “sorry food is a bit late, but I’ve just spent the last half hour with a courgette up my arse.” I was also saying this while angrily tearing into the butter with my fingers, which I was doing absent-mindedly, meaning that the wok was now overfilling with butter which was beginning to spit into the air. The meal was even further delayed, as I then had to spend the next five minutes explaining the courgette-arse reference, and the reason for the weirdness with the butter. Normally when I do something that she thinks is a bit weird, I just tell her that it’s an English thing, and that, being French, she probably wouldn’t understand it, but I’m not sure if she’d be convinced that sticking courgettes up your arse and violently tearing at butter was an English thing; it was clearly the doings of a madman.
I kept my angry outburst in the Dollop, partly because by the time I’d finished recording, it was 8 o’clock and I hadn’t started making food yet, but also because I found my shouting rather funny to listen to.
In 2007, I was recording a podcast in which I was trying to interview a guest over the phone. I made multiple attempts to get through to the person, but each time I kept getting automated messages telling me that the call could not be connected. In the end I had to give up, and that podcast didn’t get recorded.
A few months after that event, I was sifting through old files on my hard drive, and deleting the ones that were no longer necessary. I found the recording of these failed phone call attempts. I was just about to delete the file, when I was caught off guard by the sound of my hysterical voice, shouting and swearing at the telephone operator, coming out with all sorts of ridiculous comments and making the strangest anger-fuelled noises. I began to laugh uncontrollably at what I was hearing. The file was an hour long, and it consisted of me dialling the same number over and over again, and getting a combination of different messages, while I got progressively more and more irate. At the time I was too angry to appreciate how ridiculous and comical I was sounding, but listening back months after the scenario, feeling calm, I found the whole thing hilarious.
I edited the hour of audio down to under five minutes, and featured it on a podcast, which gained me the biggest positive response I’d ever received for anything I’d done. It was a little disconcerting to realise that the sound of me losing control over my ability to speak and conduct myself properly was deemed the funniest thing I’d produced ever before, but then again, this was 2007, so they probably had a point. Essentially I’ve spent the rest of my life attempting to create something as funny as that time when I railed and ranted like a madman.
Feel free to have a listen, and decide for yourselves whether or not I reached my comedic zenith in 2007. I come out with a number of odd statements during this clip, the most weird one probably being: “you get paid enough, I’ll rip off your head,” which was aimed at the automated telephone operaotr lady. Obviously it doesn’t make any sense, but there’s a lot of that kind of stuff in this clip. I frequently threaten to murder the telphone operator. Fortunately there was nothing on the news about her being murdered, otherwise this recording could have been used as evidence in court. And I’d be hopeless at defending myself in court. The Jewry would hear me shouting nonsense whilst angrily tearing at butter, and instantly assume I was definitely guilty.
I was reacquainted with my shop assistant friend at Sainsbury’s today. That’s right Jools, pay attention, although I’m not sure if you’re still reading these, now that you’re on a mission to save the planet.
If you are still reading Jools, then I’m sorry to report that the lady seemed a lot more clued up on vegetables today than last week. Perhaps she’d felt a bit ashamed at her veg-based ignorance and so swatted up on the subject ready for our next meeting. Maybe she went straight home that day and bought herself a copy of vegetables 101. By which I am referring to the handy compendium of vegetable types, rather than another book of the same name with the subtitle ‘101 Things To Do With Vegetables’ which starts off innocuously enough but then gets a bit weird from about suggestion 75; although, you might enjoy that bit Chloe. I’d lend you my copy Chloe, but it’s a bit stained, due to an unfortunate incident with a beetroot, in fact I’d recommend skipping suggestion 86 entirely, because it’s very painful and extremely messy.
I was hoping that the shop assistant would have come out with something that I could then write about in today’s Dollop, but alas, she didn’t break into poetry today. I was anticipating something though, as I assumed that if she’d had the idea to research her vegetable knowledge in time for our next meeting, then she might have also prepared a special performance piece; maybe a limerick about leaks, or a rap about radishes or something, but no.
I’ll be honest with you: today seems to be one of those days where my brain is really not working at all. I have absolutely no idea what to write about and nothing is inspiring me. To give you some perspective about what it’s sometimes like doing these daily Dollops, I’ve just spent half an hour sitting at the computer, trying to think of a limerick about leaks. I have no idea why, but I was at a loss for anything else to do, and so that’s what I did.
I suppose I might as well share one of them with you, otherwise it would be a complete waste of my time, even though, to be fair, I don’t think you’ll read it and consider it a particularly good use of my time, but here we go anyway.
There once was a YOUNG man called Zeak
Who did something odd with a leak
What it was he won’t say
But now he walks a strange way
And elicits a curious squeak.
I have another ten of these, but I’ll spare you any more, besides I need to hold something back for the book.
I had a really nice chat with the shop assistant today. Last week I mentioned that I was heading to Australia soon, and this brought us on to what I do for a living. This week we continued down this conversational line, and she asked me what my band was called. I told her, and she enthusiastically said she would definitely check us out and Google us when she got home. I then realised that this now means that she might potentially find this blog, and discover what I wrote about her last week. So even though I have literally nothing of worth to write about today, I feel compelled to keep writing so as to put more words between her and last week’s blog about her. Hopefully this will mean that if she visits my website then there is less of a chance of her finding that particular Dollop; although, now I’ve just realised that I’ve spent this entire Dollop referencing her and the original blog post I wrote about her, meaning that I’m really not helping my cause here. But I am too bereft of anything else to write about, so I can’t delete this and start today’s Dollop again, so I am doomed. Plus, if I did delete all reference to her and last week’s blog, then there wouldn’t be any reason to have written my limerick about Zeak and the leak, and that would be a massive shame.
We spent quite an enjoyable twenty minutes chatting about my trip to Australia amidst locating the various vegetables I was buying. My shop largely consisted of vegetables because, as I explained to her, I was planning on making a vegetable couscous dish. So we chatted about cooking and making vegetarian food, and then a bit more about next week’s trip to Australia before we eventually reached the checkout.
So now you’re aware of those facts, you wouldn’t find it weird what she said to me before she left me at the checkout. But if you didn’t have those facts and were just someone standing in the checkout queue, then you might have been a bit perplexed and maybe a little disturbed by what you heard.
Her parting cheery sentence before leaving me to feel all awkward and self-conscious at the checkout was: “well, have fun with your vegetables and let me know about your adventures down under when you come back.” And then, as she was walking away, she added, “I’ve certainly learnt a thing or two today,” by which I assume she was referring to the fact that she doesn’t really know anything about cooking or vegetables, but again, to the long line of people stood in front of me at the checkout, goodness knows what they were thinking.
I did think about making an attempt at an explanation to the people at the checkout, but couldn’t really be sure that they’d even heard, meaning that I could just be bringing unnecessary attention to myself; plus, people might just assume that I was merely manufacturing an excuse to try and wriggle out of the embarrassing truth. “You were only chatting about cooking and Australia were you? And you really expect us to believe that? A likely story.” So I just left it. Then I went home and stuck a courgette up my arse. The end.
Yesterday’s Dollop was over 2000 words in length, so I decided to just release a short audio Dollop today. Well, that was my intention, but it is actually twelve minutes long. In it I am postulating about pop songs, including the Scissor Sisters, Tears For Fears and Ellie Goulding.
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.
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.
