Deal or No Deal

As entertainment goes, Deal or no Deal does absolutely nothing for me.  However, just for my own entertainment, I decided to write the following sketch.  Well, it seemed more entertaining than the programme itself.

Noel; This is John from Croydon. Welcome John.
John; Thanks Noel.  Can we get on with this then?
Noel; Of course John, if you wish.  Do you have a strategy? You must have a strategy, everyone has to have one.  I do.
John; Yes, pick a box with a nice sum in it and get the hell out of here.
Noel; Well we want you to go away from here with something.
John; Yeah, that's why I'm going to take the first big sum that comes up and run to the boozer as quick as i can, and piss the lot up the wall.
Noel; That sounds like a great idea.  I tell you what, if i give you the number of the box that has £20,000 in it now we can all get home a bit earlier than usual. How about that?
John; I can go with that. I wont be too hasty though.  Lets have a few numbers first, for the hell of it.
Noel; OK John, its your game.
John; Damn right its my game.  This is being recorded right?
Noel; Yes John.  Which number are going to pick?
John; Right then, my first number will be 12.
Noel; Lets see whats in the box.  Please open box number 12 and reveal the value.
The person stood behind the box takes off the ribbon and a boxing glove on a spring jumps out and knocks them out.
John; That was a surprise.  I'm glad it wasn't me stood there, i hate surprises
Noel; I'm glad you said that because that's one of the tamer surprises in this episode.
John; Can you just tell me the number, I'll take the money and be on my way...to Pissville.
Noel; OK John, the number you need is...not 1. Its not even box number 20.
John; I told you I don't like surprises, so just get on with it. 
Noel; I'll be honest John I can't just tell you, I have to know your strategy, even if its just a case of selecting each box in order from 1 to 20.
John; There is no strategy.  There is never a strategy. No-one has ever had a strategy, even if they said they did. This isn't battleships you know.  I'm not even sure if the banker exists.
Noel; He does, he's my only friend.  Hearing his voice keeps me centred. Please, i really need to know your strategy, just tell me you have one and what it is, please!
John; Blimey you really do live for this crap don't you.  No wonder you're still doing it.
Noel; Its all i have.
John; You really are the sad little gnome-like goblin I always thought you were. Can i just have the box number with £20,00 and we can get out of here.  
Noel; Can I come with you to this 'Pissville'? It sounds wondrous. You get the money, I get to experience something new, is it a deal or no deal?
John; We'll see.
Noel; The box number is 14.
The person stood behind box number 14 opens it and shows that there is a ticket with £20,00 written on it.
Noel; Can i say it now?
John; If you have to.
John walks over to the person holding the ticket and starts heading towards the exit.  Noel calls to him; Deal or No Deal?
John turns back and says to Noel, "No deal, bye"

Keeping Comedy Locked Up

On a recent visit to my local W H Smith, I decided to have a look at their selection of Audio Comedy CDs. Having not checked them out for a while I was hoping to find something new and exciting to help me while away the time spent travelling to and from work. I walked into the shop and headed down toward the area normally reserved for these wondrous items. To my dismay, I discove4red that the display unit which holds them was no longer in its usual position, and had been replaced by a slightly larger area taken up by a new e-reader, named the Nook. Aimlessly I wondered around the further reaches of the shop, and after a few minutes of frantic searching, found them nestling behind the Customer Service desk.
I wanted to ask the lady behind the counter why it was necessary to subject these items, out of all the others, to such a state of incarceration. To begin with I shied away for fear of looking like an idiot. But after a few moments I realised that if I don't ask I'll probably never find out. Surely that couldn't be the silliest question that has ever been put to an assistant of a book and stationery retailers, surely. I could think of sillier questions, for example 'Do you sell bricks?' or 'When does the next train arrive?'
Not to stray from the point too much, I did find it in me to ask the lady at the counter - 'Why are the Comedy audio CDs behind the counter?' - To which she replied 'because people keep stealing them'
This was a bit of a surprising answer considering the fact that out of all the things a potential thief could take it turned out to be the least obvious. Well to me anyway. I guess they are easy to conceal, but considering the intellectual nature of the recorded material I for one would have thought that most thieves would leave well alone. That is not to say that all thieves are stupid of course, the ones that target W H Smith and other stationers may be intelligent, and for all we know wanted something clever and/or amusing to listen to on the way to their next bank heist or whatever it may be they have lined up.
I have to say out of all the things someone could steal why comedy audio CDs? Maybe they think they’re being funny!

 

We Take Remixes To Bed

Me and some friends have recently undertaken a project of remixes by Gary Numan.  These aren't club mixes, just extended mixes like those you'd find on original 80's 12" singles.

 

You can get to them, as streaming audio or downloadable, by clicking the following link;

Black Sand Remixes   

Thank you for your support.

Reality Killed the Big Issue Star

Reality Killed the TV Star

I have come to the conclusion that too much 'reality' TV can blur the lines between differing genres of television. In fact I would go as far as to say that some people are no longer able to make the distinction between them at all.

Here is an example of what I mean;

I overheard a girl telling her friend that she was watching a programme about four school girls, but as she hadn't seen the beginning of it she wasn't sure what she was watching. The girl even went as far as to say she thought it might have been a docu-soap. Maybe it’s because there are currently so many programmes that are part scripted and part improvised: Geordie Shore, Made in Chelsea, Eastenders, that the lines really have been blurred.
I haven't seen the programme they were talking about but I have seen a trailer for it and I can safely say, without a shadow of a doubt that it is definitely a comedy.

Guilt is a Big Issue

Last week, whilst walking through, my local town centre, and feeling guilty for a moment, I decided to buy a copy of the Big Issue. I hadn't bought one in a long time so I wasn't sure of the cost. I gave the vendor a five pound note, and received two pound in change. I didn't look at the price, which was displayed on the front of the magazine in quite a bold typeface, until I'd started walking away from the vendor. At this point I realised I was now down by fifty pence. Being that this magazine is in aid of the homeless I decided not to go back and challenge him for the remainder of the change that I was entitled to. It’s much less than he's entitled to, after all.

Nowhere on his jacket did I see 'Check your change - errors can't be corrected later'
It was sometime later that I thought of saying 'oi mate, you owe me fifty pence' but even as I approached him on my way back past I thought better of it. It could have been worse, I could have told him he's 'a thieving bastard' and 'I want my five pound note back, and I'll keep the change' for the worry he's put me through. At least he'd then have an even stronger case for his poverty stricken situation. And to be fair he would have been within his rights to tell me to 'fuck off'
I admire him for the enterprise he showed and the tenacity to carry on working his way out of his situation.
I can think of worse things to be forced on me; the religious material being handed out in the same area as the Big Issue vendor for one. Actually, that’s it!
That extra fifty pence would probably only end up going on booze or fags (Cigarettes to people outside the UK) or both. Luckily for him I've given both of them up!

Metaphysical Waitresses

Whilst on a day off I went to my local convenience store, which is good, because what's the point of a convenience store if its not local.  But I digress.

I picked up the things I needed and made my way to the till.  There was a lady in front of me, and the woman serving her seemed very friendly.  For whatever reason, her attitude seemed to change the moment I got to the head of the queue.  Don't ask me why but I felt as though I'd done something.  I was polite towards her but unlike the customer before me I did not receive any of this woman's friendly customer service (is it still customer service if they treat you like shit?)
With the items placed at the till side, ready to be swiped across the scanner, she looked me up and down.  So intently in fact that I could feel her eyes burning into me.  Like the customer before she asked me if I wanted a bag - not 'would you like a bag?' or 'Do you need a bag?' but 'want a bag?' As there were far too many items for me to carry without the aid of one I thought that was obvious.  What was she expecting, that I'd magically keep everything floating in mid air, under some sort of magic spell?  Maybe she thinks all men that wear glasses are called Harry Potter.
And when she did produce a bag from under the till it looked like it had been through the mill a bit.  Mangle more like, considering the state of it. At this stage I really couldn't be bothered to challenge her, so allowed her to continue.  Unlike the way she handled the previous customer's items she just threw mine into the bag. Not literally, she did at least notice that some items were bottled.  But did she pack the items into the bag as you'd expect, in a certain order, making sure everything was tidy, thus making it easy to carry?  Put simply, NO!
She finished packing the bag, and before shoving the change into my hand (rather than lay it on a bed of roses and then handing to me, which I often find in other shops), and without giving me a chance to pick the bag up she shouted NEXT!
For all I know, she may have been having a bad day and the lady in front of me was a friend who'd come in to cheer her up.  Surely if that was the case why did she go back to being miserable within a few moments of my arrival to the till?  Could there be something about me I just don't know about?  Maybe I did something in a previous life and a  metaphysical signpost hangs above me.