I'm a Celebrity?

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Listening to: Get Carter - Original Soundtrack

Interesting tonight to see that Robert Kilroy-Silk, independent member of the European Parliament, was the first person to be voted out of ITV's reality show I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.
The public, who (allegedly) vote by phone for who stays or leaves, were swift to grant him this wish. Now that's what I call unloved by the general public, pop-kids.
Much media-debate has taken place over the value or not of shows like these, but from the point-of-view of those involved the advantages are obvious. Bigger wages and job opportunities upon exit, generally. Apart from Johnny Rotten, who can blame 'em?
However, can there be any more odious an entrant for such a TV show than a practicing politician?
Apart from anything else, Kilroy-Silk has been taking his parliamentary wage, despite being absent from duty, alongside his fee for the show. Preening self-obsession is generally expected in applicants for IACGMOOH - after all, that's where most of the laffs for the viewing public are - but when it's a politician that's involved, as opposed to some forgotten Variety star, the mirth takes on a different, often more uncomfortable tone. Plus, politicians are generally more self-aware, self-obsessed and self-deluded than the average D-List Sleb. George Galloway, please come on down!
It has to be said - and American readers know this already -there's nothing more dangerous or unfunny than a politician with an eye on a show-biz career.


Cassandra Complex

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Listening to: Dick Dale - Hava Nagila

This is how I began my week.
Just me and Cassandra in the Sonic Chariot parked up a sidestreet in Harehills, Leeds, waiting for a noon appointment with Pain. Another of those Monday morning in-car hot-water bottle scenarios. I definitely need to go somewhere very sunny for quite a while right now, that's for sure.


Same Road - Other Way

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3.00pm
today found yours truly hurtling the opposite way over The Pennines on what turned out to be a nice afternoon for a drive...even if it was on Satan's Slip-road. It's still far from being a leisurely outing though, even on a Sunday. Still, I arrived at Chéz Sonique in one piece, so all's well.
It only dawned on me after the fact, but I didn't procure any photo-evidence of either of my two trips into the outside world on foot, this last week. I actually took my camera with me on both occasions ... just forgot to use it at the appropriate times. I'm sure I'll get better at this kind of thing once I remember how to mingle with the public at large again. Just give me time pop-kids, it'll all come flooding back.
Noon tomorrow sees me back on the physio bench at St. James' Hospital, Leeds. Not entirely looking forward to this, as the physiotherapist isn't what you'd call a People Person. Apart from this he specialises in dubious painful physical manipulations,, but not in that this-is-probably-doing-me-a-world-of-good way. My day will improve once I've gotten this part of it done and dusted.
I shall then proceed with my week in a most positive fashion.
Onwards™....


The Opposite

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Listening to: Todd Rundgren - Hello it's Me
Whilst pondering life's Big Questions, as you do, I've started to consider - as a serious mode for living - a philosphy posited in one of the greatest of all Seinfeld episodes. Seriously. Entitled The Opposite, it's intended as a working method for overcoming pitfalls and hauling yourself onto the right-track in life: If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.


There's something so monumentally correct about this idea, so Zen-like in it's obviousness, that it's just impossible to disagree with the logic of it. It's fair to say that at the moment, my life resembles George Costanza's quite a bit, apart from the fact that I have hair. Thick, lustrous, flowing hair, but I digress. Whatever the case, I'm going to give this approach a serious trial period. As Elaine puts it, there's no telling what could happen from this.


On the Road again

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Listening to: Late of the Pier - Fantasy Black Channel

Greetings once more my people. Back again on the Lancashire side of the Pennines. I'm hitting the M62 sufficiently often these days to consider writing my own Kerouac-style stream-of-consciousness Bible of the Beats, but using the Devil's Own Highway as my dark rain-lashed muse. Not sure it'd stretch to a book, but maybe a hefty pamphlet would be feasible. I'll keep you posted on that one, naturally.
Anyhoo, the onward march of time sees my once lame right-leg feeling a little better about life, and mobility is now a realistic option for Yours Truly. It's still not 100% straight, but getting there. I feel that my re-emergence unto the outside world is imminent...in fact, this coming week. There, I've said it. I'll have photographic evidence and everything, so stay tuned.


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