Blood, sweat and Letraset

Blood, sweat and Letraset

TypewriterKids today have it too easy! Yeah, I’m sounding like a grumpy old man, but I think that’s because I’m fast becoming one. But think back to when you were a spotty teen, convinced that someday you would be a brilliant writer.

But anyway…

But anyway…

ABC blocksI wonder if any of you have a memory like this? I must have been about two or three years old. Either way, my brother, who is fifteen months younger than me, was still in a high chair. I remember that we were on holiday and staying in a holiday apartment or hotel (I’m not sure which). My brother was being fed a boiled egg in his high chair and Dad was talking to Mum.

“Can I interest you in my soul, madam?”

“Can I interest you in my soul, madam?”

I’ve done many, many different jobs in my twenty-odd years of working life — from the fun (working in night clubs) to the disgusting (drawing lots to see who would unpack the hamper from the old folks home in an industrial laundry). But by far the worst job I have ever done was back in 1996 when I spent 3 horrible months as a door-to-door salesman.

Writing comedy: killing the frog

Writing comedy: killing the frog

I grew up with a deep love for the old-school comedy acts. I sometimes feel I should have been born twenty years earlier so I could be sat in the audience at the London Hippodrome or the Palladium to watch the variety bills that were so popular in the ’50s where so many of these performers honed their acts.

Rock DJ part 3: The show must always go on

Rock DJ part 3: The show must always go on

Strobe lights and headaches don’t mix. Stomach bugs and beer don’t mix. But taking the night off and still receiving a pay packet don’t mix either. I don’t think I ever missed a night in all the years I DJed both in the UK and Australia. At certain periods I was DJing up to three nights a week and holding down a full time job, so there was very little time to be sick.