Clockwatching
British Summertime has officially begun! I say "officially", because the clocks in the U.K. have been moved forward resulting in all of us losing an hour. Now I always tend to think that there's something slightly strange about this arbitrary interference with our seconds, minutes and hours in the name of Daylight Saving. It's almost as if man is messing with the natural cosmic order of things (again!). Have we learned nothing from the valuable lessons taught by Doc Brown's "Flux-Capacitator" and Marty McFly's fading polaroid picture about the dangers of messing with the fabric the space and time?....and what is it all risked for?.... a paltry extra hour of light. So I spent the next day adjusting every time display that I could find (watch, mobile, clock, car) and I lamented over the hour that was lost. It was a good hour, a decent hour and a brave hour. One who was cruelly cut short in its prime and was deeply loved by it's 23 other friends and family (R.I.P. lil' soldier....you were sorely missed).
Speaking of losses, Russell STILL hasn't found his credit cards yet and he's been too busy with things to sort it all out. He's tried to remember where he last had them but to no avail. Now with most of people, after a while with the act of retracing your steps, you can usually narrow it down to about 3 or 4 places:
"Did you leave them at work?"
"...er...no",
"At home?"
"...um....nope",
"Have you tried the car?"
"...hmmm...no joy",
"What about monkey world?"
"....aha!"
(see?)
But what with Russell touring up and down the U.K.constantly, God only knows where his cards could be and God only knows who's got them now! So what exactly has been pre-occupying Mr Brand to the extent of which that his personal effects could have gone amiss without notice? It's no secret but Russell has indeed caught the acting-bug, and is currently focused on getting into character and learning all the dialogue. The new fitness regime, the personal trainers and the strict diet are all being followed to the letter, daily exercise and no carbs after 3pm (and his trainers are watching the clock!). He's currently been filming on the set of the new St Trinians movie and has been gleefully recounting tales to me & Matt, reminicing over his past playground antics. Everytime he has to shoot the scenes with all those young women running around in their school uniforms, he goes down memory lane. Nice work if you can get it, I guess that maybe turning back the clock isn't so bad after all!
In this week's show I learned that: in Hawaiian Russell's name is "Lukela" and Matt's is "Ma-Kai-yo" (excuse the spellings)
I had the idea of two turntables on my mind so I came up with this poem:
The Way of the D.J.
If God is a D.J. then let the records play,
Let Life's selection consist of an eclectic mix and cross-fade,
From Turntable 1 we display, a Mr Matt Morgan,
Head of the "Crocodile Club" but doesn't trust auctions,
And with a caution, we switch to Turntable 2
Where Russell flips the "Flux Capacitator" all the way to "Button Moon"
Backstage fans loom, goldfish are saved from their tombs,
But who the hell shouted "Gett Off" over my favourite tune!?!
Then hired a room in the hope that his Butler would swoon,
Groomed a Spy in Shanghai, then sent him off to his doom,
Matt's "vibro-sock" alarm clock doesn't quite sound too smooth,
I guess that he's just trying to find a needle that'll fit into your groove!
Imitation of a Leaky pipe
Hi there,
It's Mr Gee here, the guy who has the unenviable task of frantically trying to condense the mayhem of the show into a short sweet poem at the end. This usually results in me constantly scribbling for 1hr 58 minutes, before running to the microphone to try and recite it one time. With such experiences of penmanship in hand, Russell turned to me one day and said "Hey Gee? You always seem to be aimlessly doodling away, while I'm acting all professional like and trying to do this show. Why don't you write a blog entry?". Translation: "Gee, the camera people haven't turned up to film my video-blog.......H..E..L..P!"
And so here we are, my first stab at the R2 Blog entry :) To be honest, I feel slightly apprehensive doing this as I know that Russell, Matt and Trev have made some great entries. I almost feel like the 'new boyfriend' going around to meet his girl's parents for the first time. There's always that underlying fear (isn't there?), that no matter how charming and affable you may try to be, her mum may still give you that hardcore stare that says "Boy if you ever hurt my daughter, you better imitate a leaky tap....and keep running!" (yes, such experiences have happened before)
Anyway, I'll try and do my best to take care of your precious 'Pride and Joy'. So let's start:....seat belts on....mirrors checked.....keys in ignition.....and brakes released....
I went down to the Red Nose Day broadcast last Friday, I must say that it was an impressive event. Hats go off to everyone: from the organisers to the general public, the celebrities to the cleaners who put in their time and effort to make it all work. I was behind the scenes with Matt and a few others, everywhere you looked there were Comic Relief staff all rushing around at a mad frenetic pace to keep the show together. Russell was most certainly in his element and put on a class performance. The delicate mix between the humour of the acts coupled with the horror of the video footage requires careful handling. Let's face it, there were some serious issues covered that night and the appeal for donations is always the primary issue at the end of the day.
The next day I arrived at the Radio 2 studios and (as per usual) the only thing that I know can be expected is....the unexpected(!) Russell had met some guy in a cowboy hat claiming that he represented Stevan Segal who had expressed a desire to be on the show. When we asked exactly where Mr Segal was, he replied, "Stevan's on his way". When we asked if we could speak to him Russell ended up being put through to someone else with a distinctly Scottish accent! (I must confess that I was starting to have my doubts about the validity of this Lone Ranger fellow). So picture the scene: here we are trying to record the show, time is running out and instead of interviewing the action movie star, we're stuck with someone dressed like an extra from a Clint Eastwood movie!
The tension was mounting, knuckles were being cracked. As each track got lined up and played, all that we kept hearing from the cowboy was: "Not long now, he's on his way, he's stuck in traffic". Now it was kind of difficult for me to imagine Stevan Segal being merely 'held up in traffic'. All this time I was visualising that he was embroiled in fighting hordes of ruthless ninjas from a secret underworld sect whose sole intent was to prevent any mention of his blues song 'Alligator Ass' appearing on national radio!
Eventually, it all worked out and I made a mental apology for doubting 'Josey Wales'. Steven Segal glided in like Obi Wan Kenobi and we got all excited like sugared-up Ewoks!. He's a pretty calm and laid-back character, so cool that he could make a polar bear smile! (but evidently not an alligator!)
I finished off with this poem, (since the show went out on St Patricks Day, I threw in a few references)
The Gift of the Gab
I've been known to write a Limerick,
Stones of Blarney have been kissed,
Corks of bottles popped,
Egal's donned, putcheen's been missed,
But this linguistic tryst is nothing compared to the chatter,
The lyrical pitter-patter of Russ & Matt's quick-witted banter.
Let's kick-off with Jonathan Ross sounding off,
There's Gym-sticks, porn-flicks & villages of chocolate,
Ruled by little boy-kings loving the Kinks,
Doing the 'Snow dome', Kicky-boots stomping!
And whose been romping in Brandy's 'Love Shack?'
Relieving the comic to stop prostate attack,
Noel's got the facts and Steven had our asses Under Siege
Russell you deserve a Saintly Pat for pulling these Tricks from up your sleeve!
Thanks...
peace gee
I don’t like to talk about it…
This Friday is Red Nose Day and this year Russell will be taking the helm for an hour to navigate between the all-star comedy antics and the harrowing documentaries- not an easy job. I’ve been working n the script and the main thing you realise is that Comic Relief requires smooth gear changes between the jovial and the serious, slip into the wrong gear at the wrong time and the wheels will fall off. Russell is more than capable of doing this perfectly.
I however would not trust myself. I seem to have a part of my mind that is against me. Perhaps its immaturity, but sometimes at the worst possible time my face will let me down and split into a grin and then before I know it I’m laughing and trying to make it look like I’m coughing, or laughing at something in the distance, or at a half-remembered joke, whilst shocked turn to shake their disappointment at me. Nervousness makes me laugh, the straight-faced hush of Churches makes me laugh, the time I went to a classical concert and an old man did a massive, involuntary burp in the Albert Hall made me laugh. Every time it went quiet I would have a laughing fit into my own programme as that evil part of my brain replayed the event to torture me. The people behind me must have thought I had a condition whereby I suffered spasms that were triggered by hushed auditoriums.
Once I was in a business meeting, when I was a kind of journalist for a website. We had to write reviews of shops and businesses in our area and we also had to try and sell advertising space to these businesses. Well, as we were paid mainly by commission, everyone in the meeting was intently listening to the boss describe the system which could supposedly make us rich. He wanted us to make preliminary telephone calls to said businesses as a ‘tester’ to see if they’d be interested in the website. The problem was he kept referring to these calls as ‘tester calls’, which of course sounds very much like ‘testicles’. Now, I can be mature and serious when I need to be but once something has amused me I cannot fight the smirk, if I try and put something funny out of my mind the part of my brain that hates me drags it up every four seconds. I have bitten my cheeks, driven my fingernails into my palm, thought about people I love dying, and even thought about that music from ‘The Littlest Hobo’- nothing works.
‘…so once you’ve put in one of your tester-calls’
‘…see how they respond to your tester-calls’
‘…a tester-call can really open doors for you’The man talking to us was so serious. He had his mobile clipped to his belt, he was one of those men who say ‘basically’ all the time, his suit jacket didn’t fit him so he had one big shoulder and one small shoulder and, mainly, he didn’t know that he kept saying ‘testicles’. I was crying and doubled-over with laughter but no one else was laughing; I don’t know why. Had they not realised ‘tester-calls’ sounded like ‘testicles’ or perhaps been aware of it but too mature to be amused by it? I don’t know, but the fact that the room was so deadly serious made the funniness go up by a factor of ten. I left that job soon after, it was rubbish- the business plan was, it turned out, not much more than a load of old ‘tester-calls’.
Well anyway, please watch Comic Relief this Friday and give us much money as you can. There is a serious side to it, but you are encouraged to laugh out loud unashamedly. Perfect.
Everyone go nuts!
It feels like summer is coming! The sun is shining, I can hear the sound of a lawn being mown (not sure how, as there’s not much grass around here- maybe those ne’er-do-well hoodies have started using Flymos instead of knives? They’d be quite an effective mugging weapon actually, although somewhat limited to the length of the cable. If another hoodie carried a generator it might work. Yes that’s what they’d probably do. Actually, the noise of a lawnmower and one of those diesel-powered generators would be so intense this forward-thinking gang would no longer have stealth on their side and they’d give their position away to the Police) Anyway, I’ll start again…
Look outside, it’s all sunny. It’s March now and that means we’re in that period of ‘summer-foreplay’ they call ‘spring’. It’s not long now until everyone’s favourite season is here and everything will be alright. When its winter, if I try and imagine summer it seems like a madman’s dream. The idea of sleeping with the windows open- as insane as sleeping with the top of my head open, going out in flip-flops- as loony as going out with an orange on a lead and calling it a dog. No, when its winter, summer seems an alternative reality where gloves and scarves are woolly aliens hibernating in cupboards whilst sunglasses ride around on our faces all proud of themselves again, it seems so far-fetched. But then, at this time of year little summery clues start to appear, subtly at first, mere whiffs and hints on the breeze but they remind you that a great, hot, bright, freshly cut lawn-smelling, barbecue-tasting, aeroplane droning across a clear blue sky-sounding, friendly shimmering monster is awakening. Woohoo, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together, throw off your winter clothes and make some noise for our old friend The Summer. Everyone go nuts!
Mind you… its bloody awful on the tube and you have to shower constantly because you feel so sweaty all the time…and the hay fever, and those bloody wasps, oh God, summer’s coming- close the windows.
Archive
Recent Entries
Recent Comments
- biscuit76 on Losing Change
- Lucy-gets-it on Losing Change
- Bloofs on Losing Change
- djhworld on Losing Change
- biscuit76 on Losing Change
Russell's Photos
Clicking on any of these photos will take you to an external site.
The BBC is not responsible for the content of external internet sites
