Good news! We have five months to live. Well, 4 months and 28 days to be accurate. The 21st October. Rapture Day. The sequel.
Apparently.
It dawned on me that we never celebrated our existence in yesterday's blog and so I apologise if you're feeling as though I'm not coming across as sufficiently pleased that we are all alive and well. I am...honestly. And now, it seems, we need to celebrate more than ever, as Harold Camping has informed us that we now have until October 21st before we have to go through all this unnecessary stress again. Next time I promise I'll be very excitable at our survival of Potential Rapture Number Two - perhaps someone could even bake a cake, send me a picture of said cake and then sit back and watch the praise roll in as blog readers around the world marvel at our celebratory cake? In fact, all of you can bake your own cake if you wish so that you can actually eat something. So many options.
This is just a short blog this evening but, then again, I'm a short person, so what can you expect?
Enjoy your evening and make the most of every day between now and October.
You never know...
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Monday, 23 May 2011
Do it all over again
There will only be one draft of this blog entry but, if we were really to push the boat out and try and make this the world's leading blog (anyone know what that is, by the way?), then a second, third or fourth draft would be essential. Just think of the changes that could be made, the humour that could be added to this otherwise dull piece of writing, the life-changing words I could impart to my worldwide audience. If only.
I've never been a fan of redrafting. In fact, the three plays I have had put on have all been first drafts (with minor tweaks), so I've naturally assumed this rather stubborn (some would call it arrogant) position that insists that everything will go well the first time around. Sure, I would be told by countless people that it was essential to redraft your work and I would even nod along whilst Stephen King wrote of locking away his manuscript for a few months before coming back to it afresh in his brilliant book 'On Writing', agreeing that, yes, for writers in general this was exactly the right advice. However, it wasn't until I did just that and returned to a couple of old plays of mine that hadn't really gone anywhere that I realised just how badly wrong I had got things. Let's just say that if the plays weren't written by me I would probably have dismissed them out of hand within 2 minutes, so poor was the dialogue. By no means am I currently producing world-beating scripts to compare them against but I would like to think that I'm getting a little bit better and in just 20 minutes of reworking the opening of one of the plays I'm already seeing a big improvement.
You can consider me duly humbled...
Now for a bit of cat-beating (which, to be honest, is the closest I'll ever get to world-beating) - 7 things you can do to a cat while they sleep:
1) Leave them be - why would you do anything to torment such poor defenceless creatures?
2) Stroke their fur the 'wrong' way.
3) Wrap their tail round until it is by their mouth - your very own cat-version of the Ouroboros.
4) Tell them the story of how they were adopted.
5) Move their food, sparking mass confusion when they awake.
6) Discover how many magnetic items you can hang from their collar at the same time.
7) Read them the story of 'The Black Cat' by Edgar Allan Poe.
I look forward to taking out a Super-injunction to cover up any forthcoming brush with the RSPCA. Don't worry Twitter users, I promise not to sue you.
I've never been a fan of redrafting. In fact, the three plays I have had put on have all been first drafts (with minor tweaks), so I've naturally assumed this rather stubborn (some would call it arrogant) position that insists that everything will go well the first time around. Sure, I would be told by countless people that it was essential to redraft your work and I would even nod along whilst Stephen King wrote of locking away his manuscript for a few months before coming back to it afresh in his brilliant book 'On Writing', agreeing that, yes, for writers in general this was exactly the right advice. However, it wasn't until I did just that and returned to a couple of old plays of mine that hadn't really gone anywhere that I realised just how badly wrong I had got things. Let's just say that if the plays weren't written by me I would probably have dismissed them out of hand within 2 minutes, so poor was the dialogue. By no means am I currently producing world-beating scripts to compare them against but I would like to think that I'm getting a little bit better and in just 20 minutes of reworking the opening of one of the plays I'm already seeing a big improvement.
You can consider me duly humbled...
Now for a bit of cat-beating (which, to be honest, is the closest I'll ever get to world-beating) - 7 things you can do to a cat while they sleep:
1) Leave them be - why would you do anything to torment such poor defenceless creatures?
2) Stroke their fur the 'wrong' way.
3) Wrap their tail round until it is by their mouth - your very own cat-version of the Ouroboros.
4) Tell them the story of how they were adopted.
5) Move their food, sparking mass confusion when they awake.
6) Discover how many magnetic items you can hang from their collar at the same time.
7) Read them the story of 'The Black Cat' by Edgar Allan Poe.
I look forward to taking out a Super-injunction to cover up any forthcoming brush with the RSPCA. Don't worry Twitter users, I promise not to sue you.
Friday, 20 May 2011
Take me away
OK, so I acknowledge that it's not particularly inventive/cool, etc. of me to blog about something as obvious as 'the end of the world' - I mean, come on, we're all sick of talking about that, aren't we? - but I hope you'll permit me to indulge myself a little after a random trawl through the front page of the BBC News website provided me with the startling revelation that tonight might in fact be my last on this earth. *gasp*
Apparently, at 6pm tomorrow evening (or, this evening, yesterday evening, or a few days ago, depending on when you're reading this blog), the Rapture will finally come and the world as we know it will all be over. Big news. So big, in fact, that it ranked number 2 on the 'most shared' stories chart, only topped by the huge story that a German firm held an orgy for their most successful salesmen. (I'd like to take this opportunity to say hello to all my German readers...)
If none of this is making any sense so far and, to be honest, I can understand why it might not, then you can read more here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-13468131
Do come back here after reading that article though - I'd hate you to miss out on whatever the remaining lines may bring.
Whatever your thoughts on the possibility of a Rapture, let alone one tomorrow evening, surely some of you must join me in offering more than a little giggle in the direction of the 250 people who have paid £83 to the 'Eternal Earth-bound Pets' business that is offering to look after your pet once you have been swept away. No offence to Maisie, or any other cats out there, but I would like to think that, should I be caught up into Heaven just as I'm settling down to watch Britain's Got Talent tomorrow evening, the joy of going to be with God would overshadow any feelings of sadness I might feel as it dawns on me that no-one will be there to put out the brekkies tonight.
It is, of course, all too easy to be incredibly cynical about these things. The very fact that Jesus declares that only God the Father knows when the day shall be would suggest rather strongly that Harold Camping et al are unlikely to be right when they confidently declare that they know when everything will happen. However, there is one important reminder that comes out of all this and that is that we don't know when Jesus will return and it's all too easy to act as if he never will and to forget that he instructed us to be alert and ready, living each day as if he is coming back that evening.
Right, I'm off to listen to 'Last night on Earth' by U2...
Apparently, at 6pm tomorrow evening (or, this evening, yesterday evening, or a few days ago, depending on when you're reading this blog), the Rapture will finally come and the world as we know it will all be over. Big news. So big, in fact, that it ranked number 2 on the 'most shared' stories chart, only topped by the huge story that a German firm held an orgy for their most successful salesmen. (I'd like to take this opportunity to say hello to all my German readers...)
If none of this is making any sense so far and, to be honest, I can understand why it might not, then you can read more here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-13468131
Do come back here after reading that article though - I'd hate you to miss out on whatever the remaining lines may bring.
Whatever your thoughts on the possibility of a Rapture, let alone one tomorrow evening, surely some of you must join me in offering more than a little giggle in the direction of the 250 people who have paid £83 to the 'Eternal Earth-bound Pets' business that is offering to look after your pet once you have been swept away. No offence to Maisie, or any other cats out there, but I would like to think that, should I be caught up into Heaven just as I'm settling down to watch Britain's Got Talent tomorrow evening, the joy of going to be with God would overshadow any feelings of sadness I might feel as it dawns on me that no-one will be there to put out the brekkies tonight.
It is, of course, all too easy to be incredibly cynical about these things. The very fact that Jesus declares that only God the Father knows when the day shall be would suggest rather strongly that Harold Camping et al are unlikely to be right when they confidently declare that they know when everything will happen. However, there is one important reminder that comes out of all this and that is that we don't know when Jesus will return and it's all too easy to act as if he never will and to forget that he instructed us to be alert and ready, living each day as if he is coming back that evening.
Right, I'm off to listen to 'Last night on Earth' by U2...
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Time is on my side
Having recently discovered Radio 4 extra, you'll be pleased to know that the typing of this blog is being accompanied by the bizarrely titled, 'Lenin of the Rovers', which is apparently about one man's struggle to establish Britain's first communist football team. I know, I'm thinking the same as you - why didn't I come up with that first? And, why couldn't it have been Britain's first communist bowls club? Missed opportunity.
I'm pleased to have the time to write this blog today - eager viewers will notice it's been a few days since I last posted - and, in general, I'm pleased that time has suddenly become a commodity I've been able to enjoy now that work has eased off a bit.
Writing update: in the last week I've written a 10 minute radio play, which is a parody of The History Boys (well, the opening scene anyway), and I fully intend to abuse the fact that I work at a college with a radio station to get the play put on before the end of term. If only I worked at a college with a Hollywood studio...
Yesterday witnessed the production of another monologue but quite a different one from usual. The fact that I insisted I performed it the moment my wife returned home from work would suggest that I was perhaps a little too proud of my efforts! My acting skills are coming along nicely though.
The problem, which this blog suitably represents, is that anytime spent blogging means the other projects aren't getting done, but any time spent on the other projects means the blog isn't being updated. It's this type of agonising situation that makes watching an overweight boy riding a skateboard on the pavement outside a more compelling option than committing to what might be the wrong writing choice. It's easy to see why YouTube has become so popular...
I don't think I'll post a link to this blog entry on Twitter or Facebook today. This'll be one for the loyal readers, those who check back on the off-chance something has happened. Well, you'll be pleased to see that it has! But perhaps less pleased to see what it is that has happened. I should really get back on and write a blog about 7 things you can do to a cat while it sleeps, or something like that.
The kitchen timer has just finished counting down. Time is no longer on my side.
I'm pleased to have the time to write this blog today - eager viewers will notice it's been a few days since I last posted - and, in general, I'm pleased that time has suddenly become a commodity I've been able to enjoy now that work has eased off a bit.
Writing update: in the last week I've written a 10 minute radio play, which is a parody of The History Boys (well, the opening scene anyway), and I fully intend to abuse the fact that I work at a college with a radio station to get the play put on before the end of term. If only I worked at a college with a Hollywood studio...
Yesterday witnessed the production of another monologue but quite a different one from usual. The fact that I insisted I performed it the moment my wife returned home from work would suggest that I was perhaps a little too proud of my efforts! My acting skills are coming along nicely though.
The problem, which this blog suitably represents, is that anytime spent blogging means the other projects aren't getting done, but any time spent on the other projects means the blog isn't being updated. It's this type of agonising situation that makes watching an overweight boy riding a skateboard on the pavement outside a more compelling option than committing to what might be the wrong writing choice. It's easy to see why YouTube has become so popular...
I don't think I'll post a link to this blog entry on Twitter or Facebook today. This'll be one for the loyal readers, those who check back on the off-chance something has happened. Well, you'll be pleased to see that it has! But perhaps less pleased to see what it is that has happened. I should really get back on and write a blog about 7 things you can do to a cat while it sleeps, or something like that.
The kitchen timer has just finished counting down. Time is no longer on my side.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Shorty
'Not only am I the youngest out of all of you, I'm the shortest too.'
So went Edward 'roll-with-the-punches' Hunter's defense of his poor performance in the opening episode of last night's new series of The Apprentice. As far as he was concerned, we needed to overlook the fact that he had no plan and didn't quite grasp the idea that juicing 1400 oranges by hand might take slightly longer than an hour, and focus on the real issue - height. How could anyone so short be expected to get these sorts of things right, after all? And, as if to compound things further, the universe had only gone and made him young as well. Young and short. Every man's nightmare.
It is a nightmare I struggle through every day and it staggers me how little people give me credit for pulling through, despite clocking well under 6 foot. Life isn't easy for those of us down here. There are things we've never seen, moments we've never experienced, and yet we are expected to do just the same job as the rest of you. Incredible.
I'm sure you won't be too disappointed to discover that Edward discovered he wasn't, in fact, too young or short to be fired and he soon found himself skulking out of the boardroom wondering why he hadn't pulled out the 'and I haven't even got around to shaving this morning' card as well. Clearly being young and short simply wasn't enough.
Sorry for the brevity of this post - I'm young and short.
So went Edward 'roll-with-the-punches' Hunter's defense of his poor performance in the opening episode of last night's new series of The Apprentice. As far as he was concerned, we needed to overlook the fact that he had no plan and didn't quite grasp the idea that juicing 1400 oranges by hand might take slightly longer than an hour, and focus on the real issue - height. How could anyone so short be expected to get these sorts of things right, after all? And, as if to compound things further, the universe had only gone and made him young as well. Young and short. Every man's nightmare.
It is a nightmare I struggle through every day and it staggers me how little people give me credit for pulling through, despite clocking well under 6 foot. Life isn't easy for those of us down here. There are things we've never seen, moments we've never experienced, and yet we are expected to do just the same job as the rest of you. Incredible.
I'm sure you won't be too disappointed to discover that Edward discovered he wasn't, in fact, too young or short to be fired and he soon found himself skulking out of the boardroom wondering why he hadn't pulled out the 'and I haven't even got around to shaving this morning' card as well. Clearly being young and short simply wasn't enough.
Sorry for the brevity of this post - I'm young and short.
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