Thursday, December 16, 2004

It's tough at the top. Or, rather, at the bottom. And David Blunkett thought he was having a 'mare. Poor little Jimmy. And, in Blunkettworld, poor old Daily Nazi. Little Killing Time sympathy either for the former 'big' Ron. If Chris Clarke hadn't replaced Blunkett so quickly, maybe Atkinson could have taken up the post of home secretary? He seems to have all the necessary skills and would surely have followed up Blunkett's fine work detaining asylum seekers for somewhat longer than needed. Despite his many flaws and all those dog hairs on his trousers, I quite like Blunkett and thought he'd hang in there. At least these Labour folk do actually resign when the shit hits the fan. The sooner Jimmy Krankie recovers and is installed as the President of UK Republic, the better.

Fuelled by an extremely boring presentation about the future, sorry, the now, of the newspaper I work for, that bloke I met on the train who was a waste industry-obsessive and the hotel we stayed in at the weekend, I have penned something resembling the first part of a radio play. My waste management knowledge isn't what it should be, however, and I'm now wishing that I'd actually listened to that bloke. Should it ever be broadcast (unlikely) the editor here might wish to sue me for mercilessly stripping his well-worked out post-modern powerpoint fandango, dance routine and fine words of wisdom about the internet, which, we were told, is where you go to book a holiday. Yes, the theatre version will open in the West End. But never mind Lord Cliffnorthes research, this boring heap of arse is much more like it.

Writing workshops on the largest council estate in Europe drew to their festive conclusion tonight with a play by the kids of the parents I'm working with. It was good fun, though my usual critic's penchant for bursting in at the last possible moment failed miserably - I spent ten minutes locked outside a community centre with a gang of ruffians intimidating me from o'er the road. Once in and away from harm and/or a possible crack habit, I got a free Celebration choccie and entertained. They're a good bunch. No more workshops now until mid-January, which will at least give me some time to finish off this full-length play I'm supposed to have complete by the new year.

It has taken me two days to download Who Killed The Zutons. It's only a 70mb rar file, so that's ridiculous. I'm on the verge of killing The Zutons, I can tell you. Mind you, they can get their own back if the music industry follows Hollywood's move to clamber on edonkey's back and break it. It's Napster all over again...but when do these global giants realise that peer-to-peer brings them benefits? I might be downloading like a broadband buffoon with more bandwidth than sense but also I'm buying more music than ever before right now, as I rather like packaging and cluttering up my house with 'stuff'. And DVD sales are still soaring. So what's the problem??? Piracy doesn't kill music, video or film - it promotes it.

Listening: (at last!) Who Killed The Zutons. Overusing: Mastercard. Wishing I'd had time to: Watch Bob's band The Interiors in Sheffield. Hating: The dark. Where's the daylight at?? Who are they?: Paranoid Bunny ... Flittermoose

No comments: