An Update from a Market Town

Hello!

I'm in Howden Library!

Really!

Just to tell anyone who may still read this that:

YES: I'm still alive

YES: I am a member of a library and

NO: I've not had a bath this morning (I think the woman sat next to me can tell)

Just a not to say I'm settling in OK. Happy in the house despite a lack of central heating and happy at work, getting used to my job at long last. There's a whole load of writing, filing, writing, filing, subbing (that means getting your work checked, normal people) and more writing. It's good. I work on the TV Database that is used to write the TV listings for essentially all the TV schedules you see in your humble magazines and newspapers. I currently work with a small staff writing all the info you get in your TV mags on, in particular, the BBC channels, five, C4 and more4 for Tuesdays. I also do a little Radio 4 occasionally.

It's pretty cool writing up all the press in advance. We're currently writing up week 50 of this year (my day is Tuesday 12th December) and are working ahead of schedule in the run-up to Xmas!

So yeah, it's keeping me occupied.

In my spare time I've had the pleasure of seeing Ben 'from Goole' a couple of times and Paddy, who many will remember as Vicki's mate from home. I'm also enjoying the delights of PES 6, having finally cracked my Master League (with the crap players!).

So I'm cool. Hope everyone is well and I love you all!

Just a quick note amidst the chaos of packing and organising to say big Bob D is movin on from his humble abode in Darlington.

Yes, after accepting a job at the Press Association in East Yorkshire, I'm moving tomorro to a nice house (2 up 2 down) in Howden to start my life as a TV Listings producer for the PA.As I am currently without an internet connection (or a laptop) I dunno how much I will be gracing the internet with my presence.

Because of this, I would like to make it clear it isn't my fault if my Fantasy Football goes tits up (TAKE NOTE Quincey, Shutt etc.) as I would be a victim of pure circumstance.

If anyone wants to come visit at any point just get in touch as a lack of finances and friends in my new town will lead to some pretty dull weekends for moi (well, until I get my paws on Evo).So yeah, no doubt I'll keep you updated on my progress on this beautiful thing(well, keep the four people who read it updated).

Peace out all,

Robert William Dixon BA (Hons) Journalism

In Praise of.....Welcome to the Black Parade

Now this may be controversial to many people who know me, but I am impressed by the new single by My Chemical Romance.

I've never been the biggest champion of US mainstream rock as my hometown friends will happily confess to you. When several of them were in thrall to nu-metal nonsense such as Limp Bizkit and Papa Roach, I remained stoicly loyal to my beloved Manic Street Preachers and UK music in general. To me, nu-metal was a travesty with as much subtlety as being hit by a brick. I can't help but think that teenagers who liked those songs must have felt the music represented some kind of rebellion just because it had swear words in it.

Thankfully though, times have changed.

Even though I first heard A Fever You Can't Sweat Out in January/February, I knew I wouldn't hear a more original, exciting album for the rest of the year. For a debut album, Panic! At The Disco's first release buzzes with excitement, imagination and a wealth of ideas that fuse dancey drum machine beats to 'emo' guitars, with a touch of vaudeville thrown in for good measure. This introduced me to the idea that just because the 'emo' genre is based around insularity, hunched shoulders and self-pity, it can still have a bucketload of ambition.

This is where Welcome to the Black Parade comes in.

It screams melodrama from the word 'go', with the quiet anthemic piano introduction and then, complete with Brian May guitar runs, it turns into a hilariously anthemic pop song. When the brass comes in on the choruses you can't help but smile at the utter grandiose stupidity of it all. It has punch-the-air moments of anthemicity, marching drum beats and an overall feel of 'take it or leave it, this is us'.

Of course not everyone would agree with my love of the song, but I can't help but feel that it has the kind of ambition and epic sound that is almost frowned upon in UK music right now. At the moment the UK masses are in love with garage rock which tells of kitchen sink dramas, the attraction being that tunes by the likes of the Arctics, the Streets, Hard-fi, Jamie T and others reflect the fans' own lives so they can relate. I'm not doubting the lyrical qualities of any of the above (apart from Hard-fi of course), but these tales of suburban mundanity just seem to remind me of how dull life in UK suburbia can get. Nothing to do, no way to get out.

To me music has always been an escape from the more downheartening aspects of life, such as a dead-end supermarket job. Music like that by Panic! and MCR is full of ideas and imagination which shows the willingness of those bands to stretch themselves to the limit, no matter how damn right peculiar the results. They're daring to dream and watching them do it is thrilling.

I'm not badmouthing every UK band at the moment or anything. In terms of this year, Guillemots and Muse have also shown a wonderful desire to go as far as they can in terms of pomposity and ambition in the output. I urge anyone who hasn't to hear/see the video of Knights of Cydonia by the latter as it is one the most equally thrilling and stupid songs you can hear this year. Also, you can't really go wrong with Sao Paulo, the 11 minute closer to the 'Mot's debut LP.

It may seem I've gone a little bit prog-rock in my old age of 22, but I just love listening to songs that blow my head off everytime I hear them. Isn't ambition and creativity what music's all about?

Until next time.

It Can Only Happen In Hollywood: Number 1

Welcome to a new series on my ever-changing blog! In the 'It Can Only Happen in Hollywood' marked postings you will find me rambling about films and incidences in films which are so absurd they could only happen....you've guessed it....in Hollywood movies. Here's the first!

Mrs Doubtfire
Let me cast your mind back to the key moment of this film when Robin Williams, in full Doubtfire costume, is spotted whizzing standing up by his son Chris. At this point, the family's idyllic home life turns upside down as young Chris discovers his mother's heavy chested old housekeeper is infact, on first inspection, a pre-op transvestite.

Running around the house shouting 'He's a she, she's a he' a million times, Chris bumps into his siblings and attempts to explain the horrific sight he's just seen. However, Robin Williams rises to the occasion and reveals that he isn't actually Mrs. Euphegenia Doubtfire, but their father.

Now here's where my problem is. The two female children are ecstatic by the news while poor Chris refuses a hug by simply saying "it's ok, I get it". The film continues, all manner of highjinks ensue and the ending is relatively happy (ie. no one dies).

What the fuck?! These children have discovered that their father, already facing court battles to see them, is spending his days dressed as an old woman cleaning their house and they're not that bothered. If I were in their shoes, I fucking know I'd want to know what the fuck a man who is supposed to be a role model to me is doing trannying it up every Monday to Friday. Plus, I'm very sure he wouldn't get a fucking hug from me, the fucking weirdo.

Any normal person would sever all contact with their father if he behaved like this. There would certainly be no hugging and no 'i get it'. How can you fucking understand that your dad's dressed as a granny? It's a disgrace!

So there you go. I hope this has gone some way to convincing you why Mrs Doubtfire only makes sense in....Hollywood!

Until next time.

Kidnapping and Celebrity...

The other day at work I was sat on my till when a customer put a copy of Woman magazine under my delicate nose for me to scan. As I scanned it through I noticed one of the headlines on the front-page: 'Captive to Celebrity: Natascha's shocking next move'.

As you may or may not know, this is referring to Natascha Kampusch, the Austrian girl found recently after being held captive for 8 years by the wonderfully named Wolfgang Priklopil. You may also know that she's become a bit famous in Austria as everyone wants to know her story.

Now then, I don't know what exactly the headline on the front of Woman was referring to, but I know if I'd lost 8 years of my life to a kidnapping I'd milk it for all its worth. EIGHT years locked up in a soundproof cellar in a cage she believed to be wired with explosives!

Fucking hell, I'd do everything once I was out: TV interviews, Celebrity Masterchef, even Love Island! You can almost imagine her doing Stars in the Eyes: 'Tonight singing live, Ms Kampusch is Tina Arena!!!!'

That's a joke by the way.

Tina Arena? Song called 'Chains'? Forget about it, I understand not many of you are mini-Paul Gambaccinis.

Paul Gambaccini? Musicologist? Fuck it.

Anyway, my point is Austria (as I know Austrians read my blog all the time), give the girl a break! Eight years! Can you imagine the amount of Coronation St she has to catch up on?!

The Beauty of Advertising...

Last week, I was sat on the toilet at work (bear with me, the story gets better) and the music being played over the tannoy faded out as an advert started up.

Expecting another drab boring bloke wittering on about dog food, I was stunned to hear the warm tones of a woman, who said the following...

"The birthplace of the Mona Lisa, the setting for Romeo and Juliet and the home to some of the world's finest foods. But luckily you don't have to travel to experience the great taste of Italy as..."

Wow! what a brilliant way to start a supermarket advert, this product must be the bestest thing in the world!!! I settled myself (still on the toilet) and waited to discover what wonderful product this advert was promoting.

"...Crosse and Blackwell's Pasta and Sauce are on sale at 72p, buy one get one free"

BRILLIANT!! 'The great taste of Italy!' I'm sure Michaelangelo, Donatello and all the other turtles would be shocked and appalled to find that a sachet of powder and dried pasta represents the culinary heritage and history of Italy.

God bless whoever wrote that wonderful piece for Morrisons. I nearly fell of the toilet when I heard it.

Yes, I was still on the toilet then.

A shit since you ask.

I've Killed People Today!

Yes I have!

Don't worry however, Rob isn't off to prison just yet as it was by legal means! Hurrah!

For the first time in my deeply depressing life I worked behind the cigarette counter in Morrisons. This was an amazing experience as people from all walks of life (from the suit-wearing businessman to the Special Brew-drinking hobo) introduced me to the wide scope of cigarettes on offer. You see, unlike other means of death, smoking brings a huge selection of styles to die in. For instance...

If you're hit by a car: OUCH you're hit by a car, so what?
If you slit your wrists: BORING! you've slit your wrists.

With smoking you can die the Marlboro way, the Mayfair way, the B and H way and many other ways. You can die via kingsize cigs, superking cigs, cigars or rolling tobacco! So much choice!

So yeah, I've been helping to kill off the undesirables of society. The ones who are being driven from our pubs, restaurants and shopping centres. The ones who smell like tar and have green teeth. The ones who are more infertile than a BIG DEAD SPERM.

Before today I was completely oblivious to the prices of cigarettes. So I was stunned to see people come in and spend £100s on the things. It's just crazy. Don't do it kids, that's my advice for today.

My second piece of advice is don't put anything that belongs in a toilet in your mouth.

Here endeth the lesson.