Sunday, 21 April 2013

The cleaning product guilt trip, a chorus of Polish men, and an abundance of nothing.


Reader discretion is advised if you are a parent with a grimy bathroom.
The continuation of this post may cause unending shame to those who are yet to have a toilet based epiphany regarding the well being of their children. 

With that done, I open my first blog of 2013 with a very serious message from a Toilet Duck advertisement:

"You do everything for your family



Yes, you may get your children to school on time, feed them a balanced diet, console them in times of trouble and read them their favourite bed time story... but Toilet Duck urges you to clean your fucking mess of a toilet, because no matter how much you do for your family, if you don't use their product to clean your bog so well you see the reflection of your own broken, desparing face in it, Toilet Duck cannot guarantee your child won't die at the hands of those terrifyingly abundant toilet related diseases.

I imagine scanning those leaflet holders in doctors surgeries. Somewhere among the "NHS Stop Smoking" and the "Do you know enough about your prostate?" there's just a side of A2 paper reading:


2013 continues to bring advertising companies with strange thought processes.

          In other news, a train driver travelling from London Liverpool Street to Southend Victoria, announced to myself and all the other passengers that he was no longer sexually aroused after saying we'd need to continue our journey at 20 miles an hour as he no longer had "the horn".

In actual fact it was on a snowy day in March, obviously the tiny flakes of doom had buggered up the wiring of the train and the warning horn that is sounded when the train is travelling at high speeds was now broken. It all reminded me greatly of a sketch by "Derek and Clive" aka a very inebriated Peter Sellers and Dudley Moore. If you have no idea who they are I urge you to YouTube "Derek and Clive - The Bible 1".

I get trains a lot now as I am often heading up to London for music related activities. So much so that a particular guy at the ticket office jokingly asks if my guitar has been stolen every time I don't have it with me. It's got to a point where he must have shared this with other staff members, as strangers dressed in National Rail uniforms also ask where my guitar is, I think I would attract less attention if my head was missing.

My guitar always seems to attract attention in one way or another. I had just finished a gig in London and was walking along from one underground station to the next when a group of Polish men came up behind me...

Polish Man 1: 
"Is that guitar? You play? Why not play for us yes?"

I smile politely but keep walking

"Yes it's a guitar but I can't play it right now."

Polish Man 1:
"Why not? You shy? Don't be shy."

Another man pipes up from the group and points at my feet
Polish Man 2:
"Your shoes!!"

"Sorry? Oh, you like my shoes?"

Polish Man 2: 
"I like everybody's shoes!!!"

The full chorus of Polish men:
"Yes, shoes, we love everybody's shoes."
*they laugh*

Bewildered at the how hilarious they find this, I approach a platform, the doors of a carriage are already open, they step into the same train as me, still laughing. Confused faces of typical Londoners surround me, something has disturbed the age old English tradition of keeping yourself to yourself. If you do not have access to a newspaper, book, or music listening device complete with headphones, then you must at least avoid eye contact with all the other passengers on board. It's only polite. The polish men do not know this though, and continue to say to me:

"So you will not play for us?"

I, slightly embarrassed now reply:
"No, sorry, I can't right now, getting off in a few stops time."

We reach the next stop... They ask me if I want to change my destined route to come with them.
    I reply:
"No thank you, but have a good time looking at shoes." 

I realise that nobody else on the carriage would have understood that reference and so join the tube tradition, I put headphones in my ear and block out all other noise with the sound of Newton Faulkner. 

London Liverpool Street station always gives me a sense of relief, I know it's the last train home for me. If it's light enough I always keep a look out for a certain building. Near to Harold Wood station is an office block with one word spelled out in black letters across the top

I inventively call it The Bates Building. 

As childish as it may be, I look out for this building every time, in the hope that one day a billboard will be planted on the roof with one simple word written on it:


As far as graffitti goes, that's like a black belt version of drawing something phallic on your friends notebook at school. It beats random swear words sprayed across walls, this specifically sends a message that these offices are dedicated to giving you space to grow...

OK, enough innuendo: noun (in-your-end-o).

I'll bring this post to a close by sharing this with you.... Tomorrow I am going to the theatre to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, so I'll leave you with one of my favourite passages of speech from the show:

Dr. Frank-N-Furter:
 ...You will discover that when the mood takes me, I can be quite generous.

 I ask for nothing, master.

Dr. Frank-N-Furter: 
And you shall receive it, IN ABUNDANCE!  


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