David Eagle: The Blog

An Episode of Neighbours - Geordie Style

2012-01-21T16:12:00.002Z

I woke up this morning (feel free to insert your own blues rif at this point) and decided that today was going to be a productive one. I needed to record a Voice Over and I had decided that today was the perfect day to do it. I was in the bathroom washing my face and brushing my teeth (two activities which dramatically improve the quality of a Voice Over. You can always tell when a Voice Over has been recorded by a man who hasn't first washed his face and brushed his teeth. That bloke who does the voice on XFactor and Come Dine with Me: he obviously hasn't washed and brushed before hand; you can just tell. They should sack him and employ me instead; I am evidently a more hygienic Voice Over artist and would set a much better example to the kids). Anyway, I am still in the bathroom washing my face and brushing my teeth. Don't worry, you haven't missed any action while you were reading that aside. I am wondering about how to deliver the third "and" in the second sentence: should it be strong and forceful? cheeky and playful? exuberant? or deep and resonant? My musings are disturbed by a loud bang and a yell. I turn off the tap and listen, but I hear nothing and so I turn the tap back on and once more consider that fundamental question: how should I say that "and?" I decide to go for strong and forceful. Then I hear another bang and another yell that also just so happens to be both strong and forceful; surely a sign from the Voice Over gods that I have made the correct decision. Again I turn off the tap to listen, but again there is quiet. The sound seems to be coming from one of the attached flats. I have moved to Gateshead incidentally as of October so that I do not have to do four hours of bus travel everyday. I live near some rather interesting people, as you shall soon discover. I walk to the kitchen to get some water and practise that all important "and". "and, and! aaand! aaaaaaaand! annnnnd!" My musing is again interrupted by a couple more bangs. There is something strange going on next door, but then again, the neighbours at the other side of me are probably thinking the same about their neighbour who is repeating a single conjunction at various volumes and pitches. I listen a bit longer but quiet has returned once more. I decide to say the word "and" like "aaaaaaaand!" with both forcefulness and strength; a wise decision I'm sure you'll agree. I position myself at the microphone and start recording. As the first syllable passes my lips there is an all mighty bang, and then I hear a woman shout something like "Don't you dare hit me!" Damn those neighbours, damn that stupid woman and her protestations towards being assaulted. she has just ruined my first syllable, and it was a bloody amazing first syllable too; perfectly executed. "I'll call the police" the woman continues. The door to their flat flew open and the voices spilt out on to the street. I gallantly tried to continue recording the Voice Over but the argument was far too loud to be disguised by my voice. So instead I politely waited for them to finish their contretemps. so, the computer kept recording and I maintained my position at the microphone waiting for the dispute to cease. But it didn't, the argument got louder and more people joined in. The window was closed, but the argument was still very audible and the microphone was having no difficulty in picking everything up.Well, they had completely ruined my voice over, but perhaps there was something useful to be salvaged from this event. I edged the microphone closer to the window and decided to postpone my voice over attempts in place of some unexpected Saturday morning street entertainment. I could elaborate more about the argument but what's the point when I've got the actual recording to offer. You can download it as an MP3. Half way through the recording I managed to set up the digital recorder and so you get the rest of the argument (including when the police turned up) in stereo, which is, let's face it, how all street-based arguments should be enjoyed. Warning: this audio clip does contain a lot of swearing, as does the rest of this blog post.) (The whole argument is ridiculous. It has seemingly resulted in a woman being hit, which is of course a very serious issue. But I lose all sympathy for either character when it becomes clear how the argument started and the infantile way that both of them deal with things. we discover as we listen that the couple have been together for eight years, but that this particular incident has apparently been the catalyst for the relationship's demise. It transpires that the whole sorry affair started because the woman wouldn't get out of bed and help the man clean up the dog shit. This, and subsequent events that morning, led to him hitting her which she understandably seemed pretty upset about. however the seriousness of the situation is somehow distilled by her infantile comments about her man, such as: "you look like Stig of the Dump; you need to get some new clothes, you tramp", although the actual quotes are enhanced by a few additional swear words. When the woman chastises the man for hitting her, he offers the following, seemingly as some kind of vindication for his actions: "well, you need to shave your fuckin fanny". Also listen out for another of my favourite lines from the very same gentlemen which goes something like : "you know that 3 grand I owe ya? Well you'll get it all back, every single penny, I'll pay it all off. And you know why I will?" This question is followed by a dramatic pause while he considers his next statement, and then he adds, "because, I fuckin will!" Also, who is "Shitty Pants Shaun" who apparently the woman's dad is scared of? And there are so many other quotes that come direct from the school playground: comments along the lines of "my dad's bigger than your dad". All these classic lines and more can grace your ear drums if you download the following MP3 file.Click here to download. Ha! That'll teach them for ruining my voice over! The world may never get to hear that "and", which is a big shame because it was amazing: it was forceful and it was strong. But hey ho. Finally, what I find ridiculous about this whole recording is how this tiny transient moment has been preserved in stereo, has been equalised and compressed, has had hiss reduction applied and has been edited so that the silences have been removed. I've spent more time and effort in postproduction for this than I ever do for a Young'uns podcast. O, incidentally, the next Young'uns podcast will be out by the end of the month providing I haven't been beaten up by stig of the dump and a woman with unruly genitalia. God forbid Shitty Pants Sean gets involved; he's pretty scary apparently. Wish me luck.

What If We all Did That?

2012-01-17T17:03:00.000Z

I've written before about the people who sit on the back of busses playing music loudly on their mobile phones. I wonder what thought process these people have which makes them think that it is acceptable and normal behaviour to play their music to everyone on the bus. Do they believe that they are doing us a favour: that their musical taste is
somehow superior to ours and that by playing their music they are educating and enlightening us? But since the music played by this type of person seems to generally be generic pop music, I don't think that they consider any such noble cause. It is more likely that these people don't even think about the rest of us and are doing it simply because they are ignorant. It is ignorance isn't it? I'm not getting old surely? Perhaps I'm spending too much time hanging around old incontinent people with Senile dementia. But surely not. I mean, is it even possible to spend too much time with old incontinent people with senile dementia?
Surely that's a paradox.

There is a line that people tend to wheel out whenever someone is doing something annoying and socially agitating like this. A passenger sitting a few seats away from me is talking to the person next to her about the ignorant man playing his music, and has just come out with this line. "what if we all did that?"

This is actually quite a fun theme to explore if you've nothing better to do, and since you're reading this blog then chances are that you haven't got anything better to do. So what are we waiting for? Let's explore this theme!

The passenger who is complaining about the man with the phone has a bottle of nail varnish open which she is applying to her nails. Presumably she thinks her behaviour is harmless, but what if everyone on the bus did that? Well, we'd all be high I suppose and perhaps we'd have a big party and our friend at the back of the bus with the musical phone would no longer be an annoyance but instead would be the party's DJ. So perhaps it would be a good thing if we all had a bottle of nail varnish open as we travel on the bus. Plus, we'd all have great nails. But on the other hand (a figurative hand, but one which also happens to sport great nails) perhaps it would not be such a good thing because we might all throw up as a result of the fumes of the nail varnish.

So next time something annoys you and you jump straight for that cliché line, "what if we all did "?that" perhaps consider the possible positive consequences that could occur if indeed we all did decide to do that thing, and maybe you'll actually realise that it might not be such a bad thing after all. Or, consider what activity you might be engaged in, and what possible ramifications might exist if everyone else emulated your actions. (This really is classic Thought for the Day material. Come on radio 4, what are you playing at? Commission me!)

So, what if everyone on the bus decided to play their music to the rest of the bus? Maybe this could be a new social experiment for me to conduct. I could sit one row forward from the person with the music and whisper to the person next to me to start playing music loudly on their phone, but firstly to pass the message on to the row in front. This message could then be disseminated in whispers to everyone on the bus and in time the whole bus would be filled with conflicting loud music. How would the original person playing music on his phone react? Perhaps by doing this we will make the person at the back of the bus think about what he is doing and this defiant collective act from all the passengers might mean he never does it again. Or perhaps we will all enjoy the experience so much that we'll all go on busses in the future, play our music really loudly and try and coerce other passengers to join in.

The other thing I could perhaps do is sit at the back of the bus, wait for the song on the person's phone to finish playing and then turn to the person playing the music and say, "well thank you for showing me that song; it has really challenged all my preconceptions of generic pop music. How about I return the favour and play you a song now? This is a lovely up-tempo number, I really hope you like it. It's the perfect track to play loudly on a mobile phone above the roar of a bus engine in front of loads of stressed commuters on their way home from work", and then play the person a song. What if we all decided to do that: to diligently listen to each other's musical offering and then offer a musical suggestion of our own? Well, we would be sharing and learning from each other. Surely this would be the truest form of community radio. Wouldn't that be a lovely bonding moment? So perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Perhaps I will try these two social experiments and video them for this blog, but feel free to attempt it yourself first and let me know how you got on and if you've still got all your teeth.

The geriatrics’ Christmas panto

2012-01-10T11:47:00.005Z

My friend works at an old people's home. She is responsible for organising activities for the residents. I was chatting to her at the start of December and she was musing about what activities she could do over the Christmas period. Later in the conversation, she was telling me about some of her residents who had senile dementia. ";Some of them pretend to be different characters" she told me. "there’s one who thinks she's a princess, and another one keeps going on about how he's going to get out of this place one day and travel to London to make his fortune."

"Sounds like you should do a pantomime with them" I responded. "You've got a princess and a Dick Whittington. You don't happen to have anyone who believes they're an Arabian prince, or a wicked witch, or a man who likes to dress up as a woman do you? Old people shrink, so you'd probably have enough people to play dwarves if you decide to do Snow White". I laughed loud and hard at my hilarious quip. Sadly she didn't join in with the laughing. I can't think why because what I said was evidently hilarious and I'm sure you're all choking with hysterical laughter right now.
take a few deep breaths and then join
me in the next paragraph.

Rather than laughing hysterically, like any normal person would, she replied by enthusiastically declaring, "what a great idea. I'll do a pantomime with them! We'll invite their children, their sons and daughters and family along to watch them!".

"But some of them can't even remember their own names" I reasoned. "Half of them need to be ferried to the toilet every ten minutes. You can't have sleeping beauty getting out of bed every ten minutes to go to the toilet. It wouldn't be very believable would it? unless you modified the script so that the wicked witch's curse had an unusual caveat whereby sleeping Beauty would be allowed to periodically wake from her hundred year long deep sleep to go to the bathroom."

"Good point" she said. "So it would have to be something other than sleeping beauty then". I don't think she quite got my point. Surely a Christmas pantomime starring a cast of incontinent people with Senile Dementia would be a total disaster. It wouldn't work at all. It would be chaos. But it would be one of the funniest things I've ever observed. I know its cruel to laugh at incontinent people with Senile Dementia, but come on, it's Christmas.

"Yes, it's a great idea" I said.

"You think?" she asked.

"Yes, you should definitely get a load of incontinent old people with senile dementia to act in a pantomime. It would be such a laugh. For them, I mean. They'll have such a laugh is what I meant".

"Yes, they would" she responded cheerily.

"In fact, I could come along on the day to offer support if you like? I could be one of the audience members. Some of them won't have sons or daughters to watch them. I could fill out the audience a bit, be a surrogate family member."

"O, that's really sweet of you" she replied. I can't believe she fell for that one. But she did, and I had been granted permission to go to an old people's home the week before Christmas to laugh at a load of old incontinent people with Senile Dementia acting in a pantomime. What a great way to start Christmas.

A week or so later I got a call from my friend. She was worrying that the pantomime idea might not have been as good as she first considered. The old people kept forgetting their lines, reading each other's lines and falling asleep during important scenes. "Maybe I should forget the idea" she said.

What? This couldn't happen. Of course it was a crazy idea, of course it wasn't going to work. But that's the point. It would be hilarious. She couldn't quit now, I'd been looking forward to taking the piss out of the old incontinent people with Senile Dementia all week. She can't go and ruin Christmas for me. I must reason with her.
"don't be silly, it'll be fine" I said. "you’ve still got another week to rehearse, plus, the audience aren't coming to
see an award winning performance; its just something nice for their families".

"Yes, you're right" she replied. "Thank you, you're so sweet" she added. Ha, fooled her again.

When I left University I was doing occasional Freelance radio work but it wasn't really getting me much money, so I played music and sang in a few old people's homes which paid me even less money. I know I have made light of Senile Dementia and age related illness in this blog post but I of course understand that this is a very serious, debilitating condition that is very sad to witness. I witnessed it in many people during my time performing in the homes; and that was just the staff (hahaha). Some people would act like different characters every single week and they would tell me completely made-up stories about their lives. They would tell me about things that they had done in the outside world earlier that day even though in reality they hadn't left the home. I got very friendly with a lovely old lady (not like that you perverted animals she wasn't the type of lovely old lady that I find sexually alluring. I prefer the other type of lovely old lady; you know the kind). She was a lovely old lady who used to chat to me every single week. I used to look forward to our conversations. In spite of her mental condition it was evident that she was a very wise woman, and very calm. But one week she took a complete dislikeing to me for seemingly no apparent reason. Perhaps she was upset that she wasn't the kind of lovely old lady that I found sexually alluring. The fact was that I had done nothing to warrant her disliking me. The week before she'd told me I was a lovely young man (probably the exact type of lovely young man that she found sexually alluring. Awkward) and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The next week I went over to say hi and have a chat, and she told me to piss off and slapped me in the face. Actually I did find the slap rather arousing so perhaps she just knew what she needed to do to get me interested. I came back to the home the next week, hoping for another slap, but she was back to her usual sweet self again. She seemed to have remembered nothing of her violent and verbal outburst towards me the week before, and so I said nothing of it and we chatted about the war over a cup of tea.

It is of course very sad to think that these people were once children, teenagers and young adults, falling in and out of love, going to work, raising children and grand children and living independent lives, and now they are dependant on carers and often can't remember their own identity and family.
But despite my sadness about all that, I had some really fun experiences and there were some really funny moments. One week I had been informed by a member of staff that there was to be a test of the
fire alarm system. This wouldn't necessitate a need for any of the residents to leave the building and I was told to just keep playing. During a rendition of We'll Meet Again the alarm went off. I continued playing and singing as instructed. One woman started to shout "its the Germans. The Germans are bombing!" and hid for cover under a table. A few of the other residents joined her. A man started to make the sound of an air raid siren, accompanying the sound of the fire alarm. A few more people shouted and scrambled for cover. I stopped playing, a bit concerned. "Keep playing" shouted one of the women, "keep singing, it takes our minds off the bombing". There didn't seem to be any staff around to offer assistance in this matter and I knew it was fruitless trying to explain that it wasn't the war, so I started to play and sing again and everyone joined in from under the table. I tell you, that was true wartime spirit.
Eventually the alarm stopped, as did the man making the air raid siren noises, and everyone got up from under the table and sat back down, breathing sighs of relief.

"Can you play the Lambeth Walk" asked one of the women, and normality was resumed.

So, now that I've hopefully assured you that I'm not completely insensitive towards senile dementia with that little aside, perhaps I can get back to the task at hand, which is taking the piss out of old people. Excellent.

The pantomime was Cinderella. All the cast comprised the residents of the home apart from the prince who was played by the home's cook. I am glad to report that the incontinent old people with senile dementia did not disappoint. It was brilliant. They forgot their lines, got into arguments with each other, got very confused, and the play was split into about 20 episodes due to bladder issues.

The pantomime was odd from the very start. It commenced with some opening music which was a version of Rihanna's umbrella only replaced with the word "cinderella". "I can be your cinderella, ella, ella, ay, ay, ay" sang Rihana and all the old folks joined in
too. Unfortunately the music faded before the chorus ended which is a shame because I'm sure one of the old men would have joined in with Jay-Z's rap. I was looking forward to some
geriatric hip-hop (or geriatric hop as it is actually called because the hip has been replaced, hahaha). Anyway, the music faded and then there was quiet. Followed by some more quiet. Cinderella had obviously found the Rihanna song to be particularly soporific because she'd fallen asleep. There were a few murmurs from the staff and residents as they realised the situation, and then one of the ladies, playing an ugly sister, nudged Cinderella awake.

"Wake up you silly cow" cried the ugly sister, which apparently wasn't part of the script. "Wake up and do the house work" she shouted. A pretty good adlib I thought. Cinderella woke from her slumber - perhaps sleeping beauty would have been a better choice afterall - and declared that she needed the toilet. The ugly sister remonstrated with Cinderella but Cinderella was insistent that she was escorted to the toilet, leaving the audience with an unexpected cliff-hanger only one minute into the proceedings.

There was some quiet, awkward murmurs of conversation from the audience and then after a few minutes Cinderella returned.

"where've you been" shrieked the ugly sister at Cinderella.
"I've been to the toilet" replied Cinderella.

"Well get on with the house work" demanded the ugly sister. The ugly sister was doing an excellent job of keeping the story going, but Cinderella was not playing ball (haha, I'm so funny, you see what I did?) and had seemed to have forgotten that she was in fact playing a role in a pantomime.

"I'm not the cleaner" she snapped back at the ugly sister, "that's Jody's job". She pointed at Jody, the home's cleaner, who was suddenly and unexpectedly brought into the performance.

The ugly sister gallantly continued while a member of staff helpfully handed Cinderella her script and pointed to her next line.

"No" retorted the ugly sister, "you are the cleaner, and you will have this house cleaned from top to bottom", there was a pause, and then she added, "by the time I come back from the toilet".

The second episode of the play came to an end and the audience resumed their conversation while the ugly sister was escorted by a member of staff to the bathroom.

The pantomime recommenced and for a time it went fairly smoothly. But then, in episode 13, things took an unexpected turn. Cinderella seemed to be having a wale of a time at the Ball. She was dancing with the Prince, holding him very close and wearing a very broad smile. She was really starting to get into the play; a little too much as it turned out. The prince declared his love for Cinderella and asked her to kiss him. Cinderella didn't need asking twice. She flung her arms around the prince and began to give him a very passionate snog. At first the audience laughed, thinking that it might have been a part of the play, but the Prince's horrified expression alerted them to the fact that it was very much an unscripted element.

"It was meant to just be a peck on the cheek" my friend told me later. but this was much more than just a peck on the cheek. The prince was certainly getting more than he bargained for. The other old women were starting to get more and more excited by the unfolding scene and they encouraged Cinderella ever onwards. Even the ugly sisters forgot their loathing of their stepsister and joined in the chants of support. The prince could do nothing. He could hardly use force against a frail old woman, and so he had no choice but to grin and bare it. She eventually broke off. The prince took a few hasty steps back just in case she had plans to resume the kiss.
But Cinderella had moved on from the kiss and had her mind set on other important matters. "I need the toilet" she declared and was once again escorted to the bathroom while the Prince raided the mulled wine.

My friend was a bit concerned that Cinderella may want to take it from where they left off once she returned from the toilet, and so she decided that Cinderella had made a dash to the toilet on the stroke of midnight and was unable to return to the ball as her magic would fail her. My friend instructed the actors to start the performance from the slipper scene.

The prince did his monologue about how much he loved the lady at the ball and how he wished he knew who she was so that he could kiss her lips again and be with her forever. There were a few titters from the old women
who were evidently up for some more action between Cinderella and the prince. The prince suddenly remembered the slipper which he produced from his pocket. Cinderella rose to her feet and indignantly declared
"That's my slipper!" somewhat ruining the dramatic tension created by the prince's monologue which intimated that if only he could discover the owner of the slipper then he would know the identity of his true love. The prince pretended not to hear Cinderella's comment, but Cinderella would not be ignored. "That's my slipper" she shouted. "I want it, my foot "is getting cold!" A member of staff went to Cinderella and tried to explain that she would have her slipper back shortly but that she would have to wait a bit until the moment of the pantomime came where she could try on the slipper, then the prince would fall in love with her and she could marry him. This seemed to placate Cinderella somewhat, although I think she was
tempered by the notion that she might get to snog the prince again.

Eventually, once the ugly sisters had tried to force their feet into the slipper to no avail, Cinderella was reunited with her item of footwear and the prince, very hesitantly and nervously announced that he and Cinderella were to be wed. The audience applauded and my friend decided that we'd all had enough fun and chose to skip the wedding scene entirely in fear of a repeat of earlier events. She decided that that was the end. Rihanna sang out the pantomime, the audience stood and applauded the actors and the cast sang the "ella ella ays" and all of them looked very pleased with themselves, apart from Cinderella who looked a bit crestfallen.

"That was a disaster" my friend said afterwards as she downed another glass of wine.

"O no it wasn't" I said, and I laughed loud and hard because I'd just done a hilarious pantomime pun. I can't think why no one else seems to have come up with that joke before; I suppose it's because I'm a genius. "everyone loved it" I replied "and had a great time", which was true. Everyone had loved it. The audience enjoyed the whole weird
episode and despite the fact that the surrealism was because of the effects of age related illness, no one in the audience seemed sad. The residents' family members were able to laugh and enjoy the whole crazy experience.
Adversity brings with it comedy and great joy. Surely the ability to find joy and laughter in dark situations is one of the great things that makes us human. So I hope you enjoyed this blog post and found it uplifting rather than tragic. One day I'm sure I'll be old with Senile dementia, and I'll spend my days talking a load of drivel and doing stupid things. But obviously that's a long way away. I've got many more years of erudite wisdom to give before all that happens.

Happy new year.

All I want for Christmas is ... a kick in the balls

2011-12-24T00:58:00.001Z

Before we go any further - which if you're going to read this and I'm going to write this we must inevitably do - I want to stress that this story does not involve me. I am not the protagonist in this scenario which I am about to relate to you. I know most of my blog posts are autobiographical, but this is not one of them. I've spent the last two months waiting for something interesting to happen to me so that I can blog about it, but alas, nothing, which means I'm going to have to write about someone else I'm afraid. I hope that doesn't put you off reading this. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you understand that this story is definitely not about me, OK? I wouldn't want to harm my reputation, especially since I've spent the last three years painstakingly building it up through this blog.

My friend has recently subscribed to a dating website. I won't give the name of the website or the name of my friend since I know it would invariably lead to a throng of readers subscribing to the site, communicating with her and attempting to date her merely as a means to getting closer to me (o yes, I know your game).

Personally I'm a bit uncertain about the idea of dating websites; it all
seems a bit forced: people signing up to a website, creating a profile where they enter carefully considered details about themselves, uploading a specific photo of themselves which they believe best represents them (although of course this does not necessarily mean it accurately represents them). They then browse other people's profiles and perhaps initiate communication with a person once they have seen how the person looks and once they've ascertained certain aspects of their personality. Based on their profile you can divine a person's hobbies and interests, their favourite music, books, films. You can accumulate all this information before you even say hello to this person. There seems something a little too clinical about it all. When two people meet in actuality, they discover more about each other through conversation and perhaps there is a spark. You don't decide to say hello to someone on the basis of preliminary research into the person: their
hobbies, likes and dislikes; you discover that as you talk to them. Plus, when you talk to someone on a dating website, surely there is already the implication about what you hope might develop between you and that person; there is already an agenda set. This is generally not the case when you spontaneously meet someone when you're out. I enjoy being out with friends and then meeting someone completely unexpectedly. Perhaps something exciting will develop; perhaps it won't, well obviously in my case it invariably won’t (of course I am just writing that to come across as endearingly self-deprecating; the reality is that I am constantly seducing women.) Surely you can't get any of that surprise and spontaneity on a dating website.

Dating websites seem to me to be a bit like buying a product rather than forming a chance relationship. Are dating websites just another example of how much we have become a consumer society? Using the shop analogy: you browse around and have a look at the various items on offer in the hope that you'll possibly find a bargain: someone who shares similar interests to you or looks attractive - or maybe a two for the price of one offer on cute twins.
When we've found a suitable girl we pick her up (off the shelf as the saying goes - you see what a clever metaphor I've got going on here?) you take her to the checkout and hope that she won't complain about any unexpected items in her baggage area. Then you put her in a plastic bag and bundle her into the boot of your car and drive her home. (I think I might have lost the metaphor a bit towards the end.) Mark my words, in a few years time dating websites will be exactly like shopping on Amazon: "people who dated Helen also enjoyed Patricia and Charlotte", "if you enjoyed Jenny, why not try Rebecca?" You'll be able to read reviews before you date, and there'll be a 30 day money back guarantee, providing your woman hasn't been unwrapped.

When our story's protagonist was browsing for women, he wasn't exactly checking out hobbies and interests; he was looking for something a bit more specific. He thought he might have found it in my friend.

The conversation seemed to be following a perfectly normal course at first but then he made his move.

He started off by telling her that he had really enjoyed talking to her and he felt like she might be responsive to a rather strange request. He had a rather unusual sexual fetish and he wondered whether she would be up for entertaining it.

The discovery of this fetish happened while he was watching the TV. A Chinese woman was arguing with a man. She got so annoyed with him that she karate kicked him in the balls. Instead of reacting as you might expect, feeling the man on the television's pain, he was surprised to find that the incident had aroused him. He rewound the film back to the ball kicking part and once again he found himself becoming sexually aroused by it.

Intrigued, and curious to explore this new sexual predilection further, he went on a dating website and searched for someone who might entertain his desire. I'm not sure of his exact thought process here but he decided to search for Chinese women. Perhaps he thought that it might have been the Chinese girl that formed an essential part of his arousal rather than simply the ball kicking on its own. He started chatting to a Chinese girl online who was a student at Newcastle University. He eventually broached the subject. She did not seem at all keen, but he was so determined to explore this peculiar fantasy that he offered to pay her for the service. As luck would have it she was pretty hard up and so she consented. The arrangement was that she would come round to his place twice a week and kick him in the balls for fifteen minutes.

Surprisingly he enjoyed the experience so much that this arrangement continued for a whole year. But this summer she graduated and went back to china; therefore he decided to search for another woman who could take on the mantle. Alas, he could not find a local Chinese girl who would agree to his request. Eventually he decided that he would have to branch out a bit and so he went looking for women who weren't Chinese.

My friend is Asian; perhaps this is why he homed in on her. Sadly she did not consent to the man's wishes in spite of me begging her to do it so that I could write more about it in the blog (I'm a great friend).

She was going to send me copies of their conversations so that I could include them in this blog post, but when she attempted to visit his profile a few weeks later, she found he had deleted it. Perhaps he had tried a few more women in the hope that someone would be persuaded but then eventually accepted defeat and deleted his profile. Or perhaps he was questioned by revenue and customs as presumably he wasn't paying VAT for the service and it was just cash in hand. Or perhaps he has died or become severely ill due to testicular damage. There are so many possible reasons why he is no longer on the dating website, but as it's Christmas I shall spare you the litany of further theories, just this once.

Before I go, I would like to remind you that this story was not about me. Any damage to my groin area is simply caused by overheating laptop computers
as stated in my previous blog post)
and not the result of any kinky sexual antics.

Well I'm sure this blog post has got you all in the Christmas spirit. Merry Christmas and see you in the New Year for a new series of
Young'uns podcasts.

The Curse of David Eagle

2011-10-30T00:28:00.000+01:00

The first part of this blog post was written on the 5th October.

---

I reached the bus stop this morning just as the bus was pulling away from it. On this occasion however I did not get annoyed and scream curses at the bus driver as I did the time before
(as written about in this blog post from July).
I'd already done enough damage with my cursing, as I'd just discovered only five minutes ago. As far as I was concerned, I deserved to have missed that bus. It was the very least that I deserved as punishment for what I'd done, or might have done; whether I'd directly caused the event to happen or not is impossible to say. It probably wasn't my fault, but the fact is that I said it, and then it came true the very next day.
Allow me to backtrack a bit; it would help this blog post make a bit more sense than it's probably making to you at this moment in time.

I would have made the bus fine if I hadn't stopped in my tracks and went back into the house. Obviously I didn't do both of those things at the same time. I stopped in my tracks first, and then stopped stopping in my tracks so as to enable me to start going back into my house. I just thought I'd better make that clear, in case you were wondering how I'd possibly managed to do both at the same time. I'm not a miracle worker. At least I don't think I am. At least, I didn't used to think I was. Now I'm not so sure. (I'll go back to the backtracking and explain what the hell I'm blabbering on about.)

This morning, radio 4 was on in the kitchen as I prepared myself to leave the house for work. At 7'30, I made to leave the house, but as I closed the kitchen door behind me I caught part of the news headline emanating from the radio. I stopped, in fact, I stopped in my tracks - you should know that by now. You should also be aware of the fact that once I'd stopped in my tracks, I then stopped stopping in my tracks so as to free myself up to start going back into my house. We've already established all this; I see little need to elaborate on it any further. Shall we move on then? You can always email me with questions if I'm going a bit too quick for you.

"No, I must have heard the headline wrong" I thought, "it's too coincidental". But I hadn't. "Steve Jobs - The CEO and co-founder of Apple - has died".

Steve Jobs is a man I have respect for, and it's a shame he's died, but ordinarily it probably wouldn't have caused me to turn back into my house and risk missing the bus for work. But things were different now. This wasn't ordinary; My actions two days previous made me react to the story in a very different way to how I might have ordinarily acted.

Two days ago, at about 11'30 in the evening, I was sitting at my Apple Mac computer. It was talking to me, and I was talking to it - well actually, to be more accurate, I was shouting at it.
The Mac's part of the dialogue went something along the lines of, "busy, busy, busy, busy, Safari busy, busy, busy, busy". My retort to this unhelpful monotony was to shout similar things to what you might expect me to be shouting at a bus driver who had just driven off when I was just about to step on the bus.

Being blind, I obviously can't see the computer screen, so I use a screen reader which essentially tells me what's going on--or in this particular case, what isn't going on. Apple have revolutionised the information communication technology industry by integrating highly advanced screen reading and magnification software into their products. The iPhone, the iPod, the iPad, Apple Tv and the Apple Mac computer have all got speech and magnification built in to them at no extra charge. This is one reason why I have a lot of respect for Steve Jobs and Apple.

My respect for Apple however was being tested on this particular evening because I was having great trouble using Apple's in-built Internet browser, Safari. People I know who have Macs testify that their computer never crashes, that it is ten times faster than windows computers, and so on. In my opinion, these people are bending the truth a bit. They like to be all elitist about the fact that they are using a computer which is more expensive than your standard computer, and they make exaggerated statements about the Mac's superiority so as to make them seem superior as people. Yes, Apple Mac computers are much much less prone to crashes than your average windows computers. Yes, I have found my Apple Mac computer to be more reliable and much faster than most windows machines I've used. But they do crash. Not in the same clumsy way that a windows computer crashes, with a sudden halting of a process, followed by a series of incongruous error messages, beeping sounds, an over active fan that sounds like the computer is about to take off, and then "the dreaded blue screen of death"! Mac crashes are a bit more elegant than that. I've never had the blue screen of death, unfathomable error messages telling me that "this programme has performed an illegal operation and needs to close". What the hell does that mean? I was using a perfectly legal version of Microsoft Word to type a blog post. What kind of illegal operation could that possibly have caused? (and keep your derogatory jokes to yourselves, they're not funny.)

Or what about the classic: "This programme has stopped responding. If you end the programme now you will loose any unsaved information", to which the only option is, "end
now". This presents the computer user with a very perplexing dilemma: either sit and wait to see whether the computer might, just might, start responding again and thus reclaim the unsaved information that might otherwise be lost, or click "end now" and lose the information instantly. There is no indication of how long your wait might be or whether it will ever yield a response at all. How long would you wait? How important is the blog post? Thanks to windows crashing, you will never hear my joke about the ostrich and the cucumber. I waited three days to salvage that post, but the computer never righted itself and so now its lost forever.
Whether you choose to wait or not might depend on when you last did a save on your document, but my attempts to remember this information are inhibited by the fact that I'm unable to concentrate on anything other than the irritation of the loud, wearing fan noise of the laptop, plus the fact that the computer is getting hotter and hotter and starting to burn my lap and melt my groin. (note to my ex-girlfriends: this was actually the reason for your nocturnal disappointments. The laptop has melted away half of my manhood. O, if only I'd chosen an Apple Mac sooner, we might still be together, and I'd have better things to do with my time than spend it writing lengthy blog posts to a handful of readers.)

On this particular night, sitting with my Mac, I was very tired and
just needed to check and reply to an Email before I could go to bed. But Safari was stopping me from doing this, and had been stopping me for the last twenty minutes. I have mentioned in a
previous blog post
that when I get irritated at an errant computer I tend to shout and curse it. I think this is partly due to the fact that the computer talks to me and so it seems fairly logical and normal to talk back to it. I am also prone to cursing and damning various people who I believe are responsible for the problem. It is not uncommon for me to wish unpleasant things to happen to Microsoft's Bill Gates.

I was so annoyed with the situation with my Mac that I began to curse Bill Gates, until I realised that on this occasion it wasn't actually anything to do with him; this wasn't his remit. I then changed my attack to focus on Steve Jobs. The Mac kept goading me with "busy, busy, busy" with even more intensity. This exacerbated my anger even more, and in the heat of the moment - albeit a far reduced heat than the moment would have had if I was using a burning PC - I blurted out the following statement: "O for fuck's sake! Steve Jobs! Drop
Down Dead!!!"

Again, just like the incident with my outburst at the bus driver, I wasn't proud of what I'd done. When I said it I realised my reaction was extreme. But I was annoyed. and it was only a stupid, rash statement made in anger. And it wasn't like I meant it. And anyway, its not like I'm going to shout "Steve Jobs! Drop Down Dead!!!" and then a few hours later he's going to die is it?

---

This blog post was written on the bus a few minutes after I heard the news. It has taken me three weeks to upload it because I lost my memory stick which housed the blog post. Perhaps it is better and more respectful to have waited a bit before posting anyway. I'm sure that I didn't have any part to play in the death of Steve Jobs, although people do believe in the power of intention, thought and prayer. To those people who believe this, I can only offer the fact that there was no intention at all in my statement
as a means to vindicate myself.

I was telling this story to some friends a couple of days after the event. In that conversation I said that I would, as an experiment, curse another person so as to see whether my cursing holds any actual power. I said, in a jocular manner, "colonel Gaddafi! Drop Down Dead!" Two weeks later, he's dead. OK, so there was a bit of a time lag with that one, but I wasn't angry when I said it and so perhaps the power of the curse was a bit diminished, but the curse met its target eventually.

There are some people out there who may believe that I am some kind of dangerous, powerful god, able to bring death to anyone I curse (even if I make the curse with a smile on my face with know intention behind the words whatsoever).
There will be others out there who believe that all this is just a slight coincidence and that Steve Jobs' and Colonel Gaddafi's deaths were more to do with Pancreatic Cancer and being hunted down and killed by Libyan soldiers than a unintended curse made by one insignificant man in the North East of England. In case you don't follow the news and the only external contact you have is this blog, it was Colonel Gaddafi who was hunted down and killed by Libyan soldiers, not Steve Jobs.

I suppose the moral of this story is: don't wish people dead in case it comes true, unless of course its a dictator you're wishing dead, but that's down to your own conscience and set of morals. Look! there is no set moral to the story. You need to stop looking for fundamental answers hidden away in some poorly written blog and just start living like (what you consider to be) a good person; treat others how you'd like to be treated; always remember to save your work periodically; and if you're a man, don't let your computer melt your genitals down to a humiliating blob! Now, go forth in peace!

A Warning for Angela!

2011-09-26T21:15:00.000+01:00

This is a warning for a specific Angela who lives in Durham. Your man has been unfaithful! I heard him on the train yesterday (Sunday 25th September) bragging about his infidelity. The man and his mates got on the train at York at 2:10 and left the train in Durham at 3:00, before heading off to the Bridge pub. I'm not sure about the culprit's name, but he has some mates called Nicky, Darren and Robert. They've all got strong North-eastern accents. They'd been celebrating their mate's birthday with a weekend away in York. They stayed in a hotel in York; not sure on the name. They went out to a number of clubs in the area, including Flairs and Reflex. So, there are clues for you Angela that might help you identify whether this is your man.

I suppose it rests upon my shoulders - since I am a writer of a blog that gets read by ... some people (and one of those could be you Angela) to let you know about this man's infidelity. I'm sorry if this is painful, but I feel that you deserve the truth.

I had no choice but to listen to the men's conversation; your man, Angela, was shouting very loudly and was sitting on the seat opposite me. I found him to be a very annoying character, and frankly I can't see what you find attractive about him Angela. Now and again some spit would fly out of his mouth and land on my face, which I found even more disconcerting than I may do usually because I knew what he'd been doing with that mouth the night before, and the night before that, because he loudly told everyone all about it on the train. I will spare you the graphic details that we weren't spared on the train Angela, but let's just say that I may have to check myself into a sexual health clinic, what with all his spitting on me. "I took 'me plunger and plunged it right up her shitter", he loudly declared to his mates, and the rest of the train. An interesting start to a sexual fling I thought: for some reason he had come across a complete stranger in a club, who must have - at some point during their initial chat - mentioned that she was having a problem with her toilet. Presumably she had some kind of blockage due to excessive bowel activity. This man was kind enough to spend some of his weekend which he was meant to be spending with his mates - to help unblock her toilet.

It appears - and I've had to do a little bit of lateral thinking here because the man wasn't clear about how things progressed - that the woman was so moved by this man's altruism towards her (and happy also to have found a man who doesn't judge and dismiss her simply because she might have more of a propensity to crap than the average human being) that she had sex with him.

But this wasn't the end of the tale, because it transpired that the next day, he took his plunger again and "plunged it right up her shitter". So in the space of one day she had managed to block her toilet again. As with yesterday, she rewarded the man's altruism by having sex with him, and a whole lot more (which I won't go into here because it was quite graphic and I like to keep this blog clean. Plus he used some very interesting sexual metaphors which you might not be savvy enough to comprehend. I mean, obviously, I am, of course).

What I find odd about this tale is that the man then left her on the Sunday and returned back to Durham to you Angela. I know things are pretty bad for you at the moment, but I can't help thinking about that poor girl he's left behind in York. She's finally - after years of searching - found the man of her dreams: a man who cleans her toilet and doesn't ask awkward questions and judge her because of her overly-active bowels; a man who accepts her for who she is. She is so consumed with relief and joy that she makes love with this man. The next day he cleans her toilet, and again they make love. She's probably already starting to think about having children with this man. "After all, why not? he'd be happy to change the nappies and clear up the mess", she's thinking; as long as he didn't expect their kid to remunerate him in the same way as she would, then this would be the perfect arrangement.
But this man, after everything that's happened, just gets up and leaves her, returns to Durham and to you Angela as if nothing whatsoever had happened. This wasn't the harmless friendship that it might have been: a chance for him to help a damsel in distress. Sadly, as so very often happens in tales concerning distressed damsels who are rescued by brave and gallant men, she ends up having sex with him.

I'm sorry I had to be the barer of bad news Angela, but I think you disserve the truth. Sometimes this blog is just me rambling about nothing at all, but then other
times it's about making a difference in the world, and bringing the truth to a poor, betrayed girl in Durham. It's not easy being a blogger, but I take my responsibility seriously.

I'm off to see if any of the girls in my street need any odd jobs doing.

The Young'uns Podcast 107 (Better than Fish Fingers?)

2011-09-19T22:31:00.004+01:00

The Young'uns and friends gather round a piano to perform some interesting pop songs. We return to Holland to bring you more observations regarding Dutch culture, including the musical tastes of Dutch chavs, the toilet habits of Dutch men and some information about Dutch law. There's the obligatory report from an Indian restaurant as we sample our most adventurous dish yet. What's
Martin Carthy's
favourite TV programme, we have exclusive news about the exciting new addition to
the Imagined Village,
and could folk music be the new cricket? Our featured folk group is
the Tea Cups
(the artists formerly known as the Dirty Tea cups); two songs and an interview with them. There's also music from
the Spooky Men's Chorale
and the Young'uns are joined by
Jackie Oates,
Ruth Notman
and Joan Crump for a
Peter Bellamy
shanty.

Click here to download.
Click here to listen>
Click here to download from the archive site (this is a perminent link).

The Child who said Please

2011-09-14T18:49:00.002+01:00

A child of about 9 has just got on the bus and asked for "half to the town".There was a short pause where nothing happened, then the child added, "please". Perhaps the child thought that the driver was refusing to act on his request until he added the "please". This is what his parents might do, and he assumed therefore that the rest of society works in the same way. I thought I'd tell you about that little incident because it made me smile, just a little bit after a stressful day, and I thought it was a nice, cute thing to write about at the start of the blog. Also, I thought it might come as a bit of light relief after the posts about having sex with multiple bus drivers and swearing Satnavs. I know it was a very small observation and not particularly funny, and don't worry, I'm not planning on basing the entire blog on this one tiny incident. Although, maybe I will, just for the challenge. Instead of writing about what I plannedto write about, I could spend this entire blog analysing and theorising about the child who said "please", just to see how long I could go on about it for. I might even construct a whole routine about it and wheel it out at every gig the Young'uns do. The other two will grimace every time I start the story, knowing only too well (from months of painful experience) how it fails to illicit any kind of positive audience reaction. But that won't stop me! O no! I'm not going for the populist vote; this is art! I've had an idea. I know where the child is sitting on the bus. I could follow him off the bus and observe his life and blog about it. This simple little observation could just be the start of an epic tale. This will require some dedication on my part, but I recon it might be worth it - for the story. I'm meant to be getting off a few stops before the town, but I could stay on the bus till we got to the town and follow the boy off. At least then I could find out if he says "thank you" or not. Perhaps the driver will refuse to open the doors until he does. Alas, I'm not prepared for this exercise: my batteries are running low on my netbook and I'm quite hungry after a day's work. If only I was more prepared; but I had no idea that an opportunity as alluring as this would present itself. There I was, sitting on the bus, readying myself to write a blog post about something that - in comparison to this would have seemed mind-numbingly tedious - when this child came on the bus and said ... well you know the rest. Sadly, I feel as if this task is going to be too much with the limited resources I have. My stop is approaching; well, the bus is approaching my stop to be accurate. I'm afraid I'll have to let this opportunity pass me by. I've let you down, I'm sorry.I was wrong about this scenario not taking up an entire blog post, because it has. A very fat man has just sat next to me on the bus. He is squishing me into the window and I cannot move enough to write properly. So I shall leave this blog post here. Perhaps I'll write my next blog post all about the fat man that is sitting next to me on the bus. I'm sure I can ring that out for a few hundred words at least. Stay tuned. Please. Thank you.P.S. The 107th Young'uns podcast will be upon you by the end of the week. Relax your shoulders and bend your knees.

On a Route to Nowhere

2011-09-06T21:23:00.000+01:00

I was in a taxi the other day. The taxi driver was obsessed with his Satnav. You might think (if you remember
my blog post on the subject of my Satnav)
that me and this driver would have consequently formed a special bond, talking non-stop about distance, altitude and other Satnav related trivia. This was not the case. The taxi driver wasn't particularly enthused by the fact that his Satnav could give him instructions about how to get from a to b; to him, this was merely an ancillary point. The man was more interested in the array of additional voices he had bought for his device.

He was very excited about the fact that he'd
fribbled away his weekend downloading novelty and celebrity voices for his Satnav. He treated me to a litany of these voices on our journey:
John Cleese,
arnold schwarzenegger,
Bart Simpson,
Steven Hawking
(which is a bit of a rip off really, considering Steven Hawking's voice is a synthesiser. Surely that should lower the cost somewhat). The driver's particular favourite was
Ozzy Osbourne.
The taxi driver was keen to show me how Ozzy berated him if he took a wrong turning. He demonstrated this by turning left when Ozzy instructed him to turn right.
"You fucking cunt!" Ozzy screamed. A bit harsh I thought, but the taxi driver seemed delighted. He laughed most heartily, causing the car to swerve. What a way to die: crashing into a wall at high impact with Ozzy Ozborn screaming "you fucking cunt!" as we drew our final breath. The taxi driver would no doubt have died a happy man, but this wouldn't have been my ideal choice of death. No naked beautiful women, palm trees, or harp music; just a fat taxi driver and a foul-mouthed Satnav.

He proceeded to go through more voices and demonstrated the various rebukes whenever he (deliberately) made a wrong turning. This was significantly increasing our journey time. The taxi driver didn't ask me whether I wanted this long demonstration, nor did he enquire as to whether I actually needed to be at my destination for a specific time and whether his wrong turnings would make me late.

Eventually the Satnav voices demo came to an end and we reached our destination for the second time; the first time courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne and the second with John Cleese. As John Cleese's over-the-top announcement sounded, the driver came to a halt, laughing merrily. "Well, it's been fun" he said. "That'll be £8 then". Hang on! £8? It's normally £6,50. Surely he's not charging me for the extra time and milage his unrequested Satnav demonstration had taken. He's essentially charging me for something I didn't ask for. Not only that, but he's charging me extra for making me late. I should have argued, but I'm too much of a coward, so I begrudgingly handed over the money.

I'm writing this blog post while in the car with
the Young'uns.
Mike's Satnav's voice is
Billy Connoly.
It's been Billy Connoly for the last two years. His jokes have not updated; he's been doing the same routine all that time. "turn around when possible. It is advisable to turn your whole car around; do not just turn yourself around inside your car." I dread to think how many road accidents have been caused by drivers helplessly careering into walls due to uncontrollable laughter caused by Billy Connoly's Satnav based quips.

Currently, Billy is telling us - for the 8th time - that we have reached our destination. "Remember that none of this would have been possible without me; you would have been hopelessly lost". The irony is that we are hopelessly lost. Mike has asked Billy to take him to the fuel station. Billy has taken us to a random bush in a remote part of town. Unless, Billy knows of a certain type of bush with special properties that can fuel a car, Billy has completely miscalculated the whereabouts of the fuel station, and Billy should really stop being so smug about his navigational abilities and concentrate more on correctly guiding us to a fuel station rather than wasting our time with cheep, outdated wisecracks. Mike is currently shouting obscenities at Billy, saying similar things to what you might expect Ozzy Osbourne to say. Billy is responding by repeating the same joke for the third time which is doing nothing to temper Mike's exasperation.

O dear! I better go and be a mediator between Billy Connoly and Michael Hughes before this gets out-of-hand.

The 107th Young'uns Podcast is coming soon.

My Father's Love Letter

2011-08-30T12:30:00.001+01:00

Two years ago, I wrote a blog post about having just turned twenty-four. I suggested that my blog posts would probably become a lot more refined and sophisticated as I matured with age; no more fart jokes and sexual innuendo. It seems as if I was completely wrong with this assertion, since my first blog post as a twenty-six year old was a long piece about having sex with scores of bus drivers. I wonder what I'll be writing about at twenty-seven.

I was walking through Stockton High Street last Friday, looking for KFC where I was meeting some friends. I
was about to ask a person a few metres away which way to go, but I became distracted by a loud voice shouting something further down the street. I listened to hear what he was shouting about. He sounded very passionate about whatever it was and he didn't seem to be relenting to let anyone respond. As I got closer to the voice, it became clear that this man was preaching. He was preaching the word of Jesus; or at least his interpretation of it. "And the lord said", the man trumpeted. "I am the way, the truth and the light ... seek and you shall find ..."

No one seemed to be listening. A few youths passed and hollered insults at him, but no-one seemed to be actually listening.

"I am the way ... seek and you shall find!" This was obviously a divine sign. So I did the logical thing and asked the man for directions to KFC.

Sadly, the Jesus man turned out to be a bit of a fraud. He had absolutely no idea where KFC was. "But you said seek and you shall find?" I argued. The man had no come back. It was clear that he had been rumbled. Victory for the atheist!

The great thing about being blind - and it's not quite enough to recommend it as a life style choice but it is a plus point - is that you can get away with doing things that would ordinarily be socially awkward or unacceptable. You can just pretend you're unaware of what you've done. So for instance, I am able to pretend that I am unaware that I have just interrupted a loud, animated man preaching to people about Jesus in a busy street. I can just saunter towards him and interrupt him in full flow with "excuse me". And then, when he falters in his impassioned speech and comes to a hault say, "o sorry, were you talking to someone? I didn't mean to interrupt you, sorry".

I heard a few people near us laughing. They stopped to listen. They assumed, no doubt, that I had inadvertently interrupted this preacher, rather than it being a deliberate comic conceit.
The small crowd in the street were probably laughing at me as well as the preacher. Little did they know that they were my audience and that I was the comedian and the preacher was my comedic prop.

The man was very nice. He apologised for not knowing the whereabouts of KFC but said that he could direct me to another restaurant if that would help. Presumably this restaurant would have been TGI Fridays. (Ha ha ha!) I said that I needed KFC because that's where I was meeting my friends. I thanked the man and assured him that I'd be fine; I'd ask someone else for directions; I was confident that I'd get there. "Go now, your faith has saved you" he said. No he didn't say that, but he might say that in the film version of this blog.

I asked the man if I'd inadvertently interrupted anything important. "You appeared to be talking to someone" I enquired, playing innocent. My audience were lapping this up. There were a few teenagers stood round, laughing heartily at this scene. If only they knew that they were witnessing a deliberate comedic construct. If only the preacher man was a bit funnier and played along a bit more; we could have sold tickets and put on a show.
I was doing my best to entertain, but the man was a bit stilted; hardly developing his character as much as he could have been doing.

"Every Friday we go down the high street and me and a few mates preach the word of god to the people" he explained.
"O well, there's a number of people all gathered round us now" I responded, "so I'll let you get on". The poor preacher man would soon see the crowd move on, now that I - clearly the star attraction and the talented one in this arrangement - had gone. He had been given his chance to impress, and had quite frankly failed. Showbiz is a cruel mistress; he might as well learn that from the get-go. I thanked the man for his time and walked away.

A few metres down the road was another preaching man, only he had a much more aggressive approach and was loudly berating us for walking past him, ignoring what he was saying, just getting on with our lives with no regard for the word of God. I wondered whether I should audition this man and ask him for directions, but at that point my friend shouted me over from across the road. I had made KFC.

About half an hour later, I reached into my pocket to get some money to pay for my meal, and noticed that there was a little booklet in it. It was titled "Your father's love letter". A friend read the contents of the letter and it transpired not to be a letter from my father at all, but a note from God telling me that he loved me and that he knew me very intimately - the dirty deity.

How the heck did this letter get in my pocket? I assume it must have been the preacher man, but I didn't notice him putting it in. I can't see how I would have missed him doing it; it was my inside coat pocket. But it hadn't been there before I saw the preacher man, so it must have been him! The man must be an illusionist. He couldn't do comedy, but he could make things mysteriously appear.

I had rashly dismissed him for his lack of comedic value, but hadn't considered any other talents that he may be able to lend to the act. I went back to the place where the preacher man had been. I could do the comedy and he could do the tricks. We'd definitely sell tickets. But the man had gone; perhaps even vanished in a puff of smoke in front of a thrilled audience, once he’d made sure that I – clearly the untalented fool who fancied himself as a bit of a comedian – had left. Damn!

Perhaps this blog post is a kind of modern day parable. Perhaps I shouldn't have been too quick to judge the man. OK so he couldn't do comedy but he had great potential as an illusionist. Let this be a lesson friends.

I hope that one day, people will read, translate and interpret this blog post in a variety of different ways and then have wars based on the individually interpreted elements of the blog post that they disagree on. If you are reading this and are thinking of having a war, or are in the process of having a war to defend the sacred purity and truth of my blog post, I want you to know that I'm on your side. You've got me on your side. Tell all your supporters - your army - that I am on their side. Be warned however: your enemies will be reading this and foolishly interpreting that I am talking to them; that I am on their side. They will be telling their supporters - their army - that they have me on their side. How fickle, how ignorant they are. They're wrong, of course. You've got me on your side, so go out there safe in that knowledge and kill and get killed in my name. Then when you die, you'll get to the big place in the sky (which has actually had to downsize a bit due to the current economic climate) and you'll all discover that this blogger who you've been fighting for, and got killed for, doesn't actually exist. That's right, the whole blog was written by a ghost writer. Ha ha haaaaaa!

The 106th Young'uns Podcast

2011-07-28T13:57:00.005+01:00

The 106th Young'uns Podcast is finaly here.
This is the description for it:

The Young'uns Podcast 106 (The Itch of the Golden Nit)

The Itch of the Golden Nit is a film
produced by
Aardman Animations
(the people behind
Wallace & Gromit)
and is the creation of thousands of UK-based children. The children chose the celebrities that they wanted to feature in the film.
David Walliams,
Catherine Tate
and
Miranda Hart
are just some of the big names starring in the film. But perhaps most tellingly - indicating that this future generation is clearly going to be a much more enlightened lot - the Young'uns were also asked to appear. Of course it was the children who chose us; not some ignorant researcher who assumed that The Young'uns (based purely on the name) were a folk group consisting of children, only to find out the truth a bit too late once we'd signed the contract.

Some people in the folk world may accuse the Young'uns of selling out, ditching mining songs and ballads about ship wrecks for the more commercially viable (and much more lucrative) film soundtrack work. This is of course complete nonsense. How could we have said no to those children? They would be heart broken if their number one celebrity choices snubbed them. Such a disappointment could destroy a whole generation, and could be the root source of future criminality and warfare. So we accepted - for the kids you understand, and for the stability of our planet - and did the song on the film.

For those people who are still not convinced and are crying "sell outs", take heart in the knowledge that the money we generated from the project went to good causes that folkies in this country will wholeheartedly support: the majority went straight into the real ale industry, namely the real ale tents at folk festivals - and we were happy to hand this money over in person whilst maybe having a couple of samples of each real ale, just to make sure that we were definitely giving to a good cause. The rest of the money went to
Seth Lakeman;
and you can't say that's not a good cause.

The song that we sang for this film was about smelly pirates with hairy knees, and we were singing alongside
Vick Reeves
who played the pirate. You can hear anecdotes about our filming experience, plus the song itself. We also speak to the film's musical composer,
John Brown
who worked with children all over the country to create the songs. Jim Molyneux from the folk group
4Square
played the drums on the smelly pirate song. We'll be talking to him about the film and about his group 4Square. We also have music from 4Square and another live performance from the Young'uns.

Plus: What do female Morris dancers get up to in toilets?; a live musical performance from a choir who we happened upon in a takeaway; The Young'uns have a new idea for a cover song to add to their set (see what you think), and there's another report from an Indian restaurant.

Click here to download.
Click here to listen
The above download link is a temporary link and will probably only work for a couple of months, before new podcasts take its place. If the link doesn't work then you can download the podcast from our archive site
here.

The reason I provide both links is because mobile phones might struggle downloading the archived file. It's all technical, clever stuff. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little heads about.

You can subscribe to the Young'uns Podcast in Itunes
here
or in Google
here.

Fuck All Bus Drivers!

2011-07-22T16:51:00.000+01:00

Warning, the following blog post contains strong language (in case you hadn't gathered that by the title.)

Before I start ranting: just a little note to let you know that the 106th Young'uns podcast will definitely be available from the beginning of next week.

And now: my rant.

I set off from my house for work at the usual time. My most loyal readers will be aware of what time that is.
I'm not going to tell the rest of you; you'll have to trail through my entire blog to find out. That'll teach you for being a part-time reader.

There is a double set of traffic lights that I have to cross before I get to the bus stop. Today, I reached the traffic lights and went to press the button, but it had been taped over with a big cardboard sign.

For blind people, signs are a bit useless and can actually pose more of a hindrance than a help to us. I'm thinking in particular of those big, self standing signs that say "caution! wet floor!" Firstly, such a sign is completely redundant for someone who can't see it. But in addition to that, the signs often tend to get in the way of a blind person's path. I have been walking along a corridor, unaware that there is anything in my way, and then collided with one of these "caution! wet floor!" signs. Once or twice, I have crashed into the sign and have been sent skidding along the wet floor at a much greater speed than I would ever have done if the sign hadn't have been there. I have skidded across the wet floor with my shoe laces caught on the sign and then ended up face down in a puddle of whatever wet stuff the sign was trying to warn me about.

This particular sign, taped on the traffic light box, may have been explaining that the lights were automated or were not working at all because of the roadworks that were in progress on that road. I was aware of the road works because it had taken me two minutes to cross the road just before the traffic lights which normally would take me a few seconds to cross, meaning I was running a bit late. There was also a lot of loud drilling going on which suggested that there was either a new alfresco dentist who had just set up by the road side, or that there was roadworks. Those are the only two plausible options I can think of, and I challenge you to think of a better one. No, you can't, can you? Keep reading and leave the advanced detective work to me.

At the bottom of most traffic light boxes there is a little stick that protrudes down. This spins round when the green man appears to alert blind people that it is safe to cross. But that was also blocked by the cardboard sign, so I'd have to determine when it was safe to cross using my own initiative. This was made even more difficult by the loud drilling sound. After a while I decided to chance it and crossed.

Did I make it across the road alive? Well yes, of course I did; I'm writing this blog post after the fact, so what a silly question that was. I couldn't write this blog post if I was dead; unless I'd decided at the roadside to write this blog post first, then send it to a friend who could publish it in the event that I was killed crossing the road. But surely I'd write something a bit more interesting than this nonsense if I knew it was going to be my last post? Thank goodness I survived, otherwise this blog post would be an embarrassing and very disappointing swan song, hardly in keeping with the amazing legacy I had helped develop up until this point with my previous blog posts. People would be so disappointed. "To think, that he would leave us with such a banal and mundane blog post
as his final parting words to us. This, the same man who once regularly thrilled us with his amusing anecdotes from the 36 bus; this, the man who sang about smelly pirates with hairy knees alongside Vick Reeves; the same man who enthralled us with a detailed exposition of his satnav! ... And he leaves us like this?!"

With an enterobang?! where the whole sorry thing started?!

My god, that was some tangent. I'm sorry. I'm not dead. The blog continues.

So, I managed to cross the road without
coming to any harm whatsoever. Glad we established that.

As I reached the other side of the road, I saw my bus overtake me and pull into the bus stop. I started to run, but it had been raining all night and the ground was wet which caused me to slip and skid out of control along the path. What were the council thinking? You'd have thought they'd have had the common sense to put up a wet floor sign! My skidding eventually stopped when I collided into a bush which soaked me and gave me a few complimentary stings too. I quickly regained composure and sprinted the few remaining metres to the bus stop. Fortunately the bus was still at the stop. I was just about to step on the bus, which still had its door open, when the bus pulled away.

I was so close. Surely the bus driver could see my frantic attempts to reach the bus stop? All that effort: dicing with death by crossing a road without the ability to see or hear if there were any cars coming; the frantic sprinting; the skidding, the soaking and the stinging. Despite all my efforts I had missed the bus and would now have to travel miles out of my way and I'd be about an hour late. I was furious that the bus driver hadn't waited that extra second. There is no doubt that he would have seen me.

I'm not proud of what I did next. I'd like to think I was innately conscientious enough to at least subconsciously check to see that there weren't any children around before doing what I did, but I was too enraged to care. My immediate reaction to this frustrating situation was to lift my head up to the sky and then shout, at some considerable volume, "fuck! fuck the bus driver! Fuck all bus drivers! Fuck you all!"

Writing about this now makes me feel and sound pathetic, but at the time I was so annoyed at the bus driver and aggrieved by the soaking and stinging I'd received on my frantic sprint, that this outburst seemed justified and reasonable. I don't know why I chose to tarnish all bus drivers with the same brush just because of this one particular bus driver, but that is just what impulsively burst from my mouth in my state of fury.

As soon as I had made this loud outburst I immediately knew that I'd overreacted. I turned to see whether there was anyone else around, hoping that there wasn't. I didn't see anyone, but about thirty seconds later a man came up to me and asked me if I was OK. I wasn't sure whether he had heard my cursing or not. I said that I was fine and explained about my ordeal. He sympathised with my plight and told me that he certainly would have waited for me if he was the bus driver. He then informed me that he in fact was a bus driver. He would be driving the next bus and was waiting for it to arrive at this stop. It transpired that he'd be the driver of the bus I was about to get on.

I started to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Had this bus driver heard my "fuck all bus drivers" comment, and then came over to me and initiated conversation as a result. Perhaps he was trying to prove that not all bus drivers were bastards, disserving of being "fucked". Or maybe he was setting the groundwork for some sweet revenge: he would lull me into a false sense of security by being all matey and sympathetic with me, only for his bus to arrive and for him to dash on it, quickly close the door and speed off down the street, laughing evilly as I stand on the road side having been tricked by yet another cruel bastard of a bus driver.

Or maybe he heard me shout "fuck all bus drivers!" and thought that this proclamation was a sexual pledge. Perhaps when he heard my declaration, he thought: "o, that's interesting. This man obviously finds bus drivers so incredibly sexually alluring that he has an overpowering urge to fuck us all. It's obviously a very overpowering urge because he's more than happy to shout out his desire in public, despite the fact that there might be children around to hear. Hmm. I suppose I do quite fancy him, to be honest. But I'm not sure that I really want to be having sex with a man who has subsequently had sex with scores of other bus drivers before me. I'd feel dirty and used. If he's going to try and have sex with me at some point in my life anyway, then I might as well get in their first while he's still a bit fresh. Plus, there's less chance of getting a sexually transmitted disease if I do it now, and at least I wouldn't feel as disgusted by the act. I better go and introduce myself then."

I'm sure you can understand why I was getting nervous.

The conversation was polite. He didn't seem as if he was aroused in anyway. But maybe he was expecting me to make the first move. After all, it had been me who'd made the bold declaration. He might have been confused that I'd suddenly got all shy after my initial boldness. He might even be feeling rejected. Perhaps I should have sex with him, just in case. I wouldn't want him thinking that I'd made a pledge to universally "fuck all bus drivers", but had found this particular bus driver so sexually unappealing that I'd decided to make him an exception to this rule. How do I get myself into these situations?

Just as I was considering my next move, the bus pulled up. We both got on the bus. Then he said to me, "stay on the bottom and sit at the front and I'll tell you when to get off". O dear! Well that confirmed it. He's deffinitely after sex!

There'll be some of you out there reading this, not as streetwise as me, who'll naively assume that this was an innocent comment. "The bus was a double Decker. If you sat at
the front of the bus on the bottom deck then the driver would be able to tell you when to get off at your stop. Surely that's all it could mean David?" You poor, naive fool. It was obvious what this bus driver was insinuating. "stay on the bottom" is an obvious sexual reference; he is stating a sexual position and is obviously requesting that I am the giver in this situation. Then there's his comment, "sit at the front". ok, granted,these two statements seem to counteract each other. How can I stay on the bottom and sit at the front at the same time? "So surely that means that he was definitely simply suggesting that you sit on the bottom deck of the bus, at the front. Surely?" O you poor, innocent fool. I dread to think how many bus drivers you've let take advantage of you. He was obviously just so excited that he wasn't thinking straight (in both senses of the word), and in his sexually aroused state he just blurted something out. That's the only obvious explanation to his statement.

Plus, there's that other statement: "and I'll tell you when to get off". Again, that's an obvious sexual suggesttion. Even if I had felt sexually inclined towards this particular bus driver, he had ruined any chances of me and him having sex. It was clear that he was a selfish lover and evidently liked to be the dominating partner; telling me what he wanted, with no consideration of how I might feel about it. Also, i thought this was a bit presumptuous on his part. Since I'd been the one who made the bold statement "fuck all bus drivers", surely I should be seen as the person in the position to call the shots here, to stipulate how, where and when I want my bus drivers. He's got no right to assume that he's suddenly running the show. He's not the ring leader, I am (and yes, you could interpret that as another sexual pun, if that'll make you happier).

So the driver ruined whatever small chance he might have had with me. And of course, I sat on the top, right at the back. And I'm talking about my position on the bus. Obviously. Seriously, I can't believe the way your minds work sometimes.

Twitter news and Young'uns Podcast subscription news

2011-07-11T20:54:00.001+01:00

Due to the overwhelming surge of popularity for
the Young'uns
following our epic televisual debut, we've decided to sign up to Twitter - give them some extra business. I've personally not done anything on their yet and perhaps never will, since apparently you have a limit of 140 characters per post which (as regular readers of my blog will understand) might prove a bit of a challenge for me. I will however - should you send an email to webmaster@theyounguns.co.uk - be only too happy to continue to reply in a needlessly lengthy fashion which you won't even bother reading because of the fact that your intimidated by the unnecessary length of the thing, but primarily because you were hoping for a response from either Mike or Sean. Well now you know that if you want a reasonably concise reply to your message without the risk of me getting in touch with you, then you should use the Twitter option. Although, I would appreciate the occasional email from a real human as it will come as a welcome break from the usual spam mail that we get on the Young'uns account.

It can be a bit disconcerting when the Young'uns mail account gets spam, especially when you get emails saying, "sexually satisfy your woman with this proven technique". Baring in mind that all three of us get this email, the inference is that the Young'uns share the same woman and that all three of us are attempting to satisfy her sexually. Perhaps even at the same time. There's no knowing what the dirty spam bots are thinking (and that's actually what they're called: spam bots. That's not a euphemism or an affectionate name I have for them).

I am ignoring the spam about penis extensions that go into my personal mail account in the hope that perhaps we can get a three for the price of two deal if the Young'uns get their penises extended at the same time. But I hope they're not expecting the three of us to share the same penis, because that's not going to happen. Unless it's detachable, in which case I might consider it. You've got to think frugally in this economic climate.

Anyway, the upshot of all that was that The Young'uns are on Twitter. We're called theyoungunstrio.

In other news, I've finally done a deal with the robots and the Young'uns Podcast is now actually a podcast.You can subscribe to the podcast here:
in ITunes"
Or with Google

The 106th Young'uns Podcast will arrive this week.

The Itch of the Golden Nit

2011-06-30T19:35:00.000+01:00

The Itch of the Golden Nit - the film that I wrote about
(see this blog post)
featuring myself and the Young'uns singing a song about smelly pirates with hairy knees alongside
Vic Reeves
- is being aired this Saturday on bb c 2 at nine oClock in the morning. I'm not sure whether it's in 3D or HD, but I hope it is. It would be good to get the pirate's hairy knees in high definition, plus the finer nuances of our smelly pirate song might be lost if it's not in surround sound.

DAVE Gorman,
this is your last chance! If you want to collaborate with me in a surreal sketch show featuring my robot friends then you better get in touch with me now, because once this film is aired (featuring
David Walliams
and
Catherine Tate
no less, Mr Gorman) you'll regret your choice to ignore my invitation! But when the film is showcased it'll be too late for you to reconsider because then there will be a deluge of offers coming in from other comedians.

The 106th
Young'uns podcast
will be coming soon and will be an Itch of the Golden Nit special. It's the only podcast that Itch of the Golden Nit fans need listen to. You'll get all the important information about the film, in spite of the fact that we'll more than certainly not be featuring an interview with any of the stars:
Miranda Haart,
Catherine Tate, David Walliams, Vic Reeves and the fact that I only remotely know some tiny detail about the thirty seconds that we feature in it. But it will be the best thirty seconds!

It's strange to think that this will probably be my last blog post as an ordinary member of the public. From Saturday, everything will change. I might have been a bit optimistic about the Dave Gorman/thought for the day thing, but I'm certain about it this time. Saturday will be the first day of the rest of my life! See you on the other side.

105th Young'uns Podcast.

2011-06-22T11:53:00.005+01:00

The Young'uns Podcast 105 is here.
Click here to download
Click here to listen now.

This week's Young'uns podcast is a bit of a rollercoaster. In the emotional sense: as the podcast will inevitably have a big build up, only to come suddenly crashing down, leaving you feeling a bit sick and sore. But in addition to that allegorical rollercoaster, we feature an actual rollercoaster on the podcast (so I hope you appreciate the brilliance of that opening sentence; It works on so many levels - a bit like a rollercoaster really.)
Good news Mr. Harding; the audio treats continue. Following on from the roaring - or rumbling - success of the stomach noises item, we take things to their logical conclusion and move on to snoring.
Michael Hughes makes a urinal based observation.
Our special folky guest is
Gavin Davenport.
We'll be finding out what makes him tick - although we won't be bringing you the audio of that ticking on this week's podcast (maybe next time). and We'll also hear a couple of songs from him.
The Young'uns are joined at the Gate to Southwell festival by Doctor Who and the Daleks.
It's an unwritten rule (although that's about to change because I'm about to write it) that the Young'uns must have at least one Indian meal at every festival or gig they do. This week is no exception, and so we bring you the first in a series of reports from an Indian restaurant.
So I hope that all that curries favour with you (and yes that was a deliberate pun).

An Addendum to my last post

2011-06-12T14:45:00.000+01:00

An Addendum to my last post

As an addendum to my last blog post: it transpired the next day that the potted plant was a gift from Aisha’s flatmate’s boyfriend – not for Aisha, for his girlfriend, Aisha’s flatmate; the story doesn’t get that exciting. The man with the speech impairment was the delivery man, not Dave Gorman or a young gormanesque comedy upstart. I find this hugely disappointing as now I won’t be appearing on the telly as part of a new comedy programme. And I’d spent all last night preparing lines for the show.

Knock Knock!

2011-06-10T15:27:00.002+01:00

My friend Aisha rang me last night in hysterics. She recounted the following tale, which I shall duly recount to you in blog form. If you want, you can recreate her recounting of the story fairly accurately by reading this out loud amongst constant girlish giggles. This is also an important director's note in case radio 4 are thinking of turning this story into a miniplay. Once I've got my foot in the door at Thought for the Day HQ, there'll be no stopping me. They might even decommission Bellowhead and get the Young'uns to record the Archers theme tune instead.

Anyway, there was a knock at Aisha's front door. Upon answering, she was greeting by a man who seemingly had a severe speech impairment. He was making a few noises but was mainly attempting to communicate by making gestures with his hands. As Aisha is blind, these gestures didn't enlighten her about what he was trying to say. She explained that she couldn't see enough to interpret his gestures. He seemed perturbed by this, and for a moment he did nothing while he presumably reassessed the situation and devised a new method of communicating with her. However, after a few seconds, he resumed his noises and gestureings, only with added intensity, getting closer to her and frantically waving his hands in her face. She reciprocated by shouting louder at the man, repeating the fact that she couldn't see him enough to work out what he was trying to communicate.

This is kind of similar to the stereotypical behaviour of an Englishman on holiday when trying to communicate with someone who speaks a different language to them.

"Do you speak English?"

“Je ne comprends pas, Desolé”.

“Dooooo, yooooooo, speeeeeeeek, iiiiiiinnnnngliiiiiiiish!!!!!!!"

I look forward to the day when Aliens come to earth to visit us, but hope they don't land on British soil. It would be a tad embarrassing for the whole world - watching their TVs expectantly - to hear the British Prime Minister greet our new arrival by saying, "Do you speak English?"
The alien would probably respond with "Bllepy, beepy, bleep, beep bleep beep", which of course means "I don't understand, sorry". The Prime Minister will then nobly step closer to the alien and shout while pointing wildly in front of its face. "Dooooo, yoooo, speeeeeek, iiiiiiingliiiiiiish!!!!!!!!!!!"
I look forward to radio 4 working with me to turn this hilarious idea into an award winning sketch on my new flagship comedy program. It would be handy for me if you could arrange a meeting about this when I'm in the building recording my Thought for the Day segment.

As expected then, this communication method did nothing to help the situation and after a few more seconds, Aisha and the man stopped their fruitless communication attempts while they considered their next move. They decided not to try the same method for a third time - getting even closer to each other's face and shouting and pointing with even more intensity. Although if this was a sketch on Little Britain, it would of course go on like this for an entire series, with Aisha and the man having individual catchphrases that they would shout at the close of each episode's sketch; although no one in the audience would understand the catchphrase of the man with the speech impairment, but the viewers will laugh anyway.

The next move that the man made took Aisha aback, and she was unable to compose herself in time to react. The man thrust something into her hands and then walked off. She stood there, holding the object. It was a potted plant. She stood with it for a few seconds, wondering what the heck was going on, but the man had already gone and so she couldn't ask questions - not that she would understand his response anyway.

We postulated on what the whole thing had been about. The best theory I came up with was that it might have been an odd stunt as part of a new TV comedy show. Perhaps a comedian had decided to film himself doing something completely random to a person like knock on their door, point and shout nonsense in their faces and then hand them a potted plant before walking off. Perhaps he will return to her house the next day with a new gift. Maybe the sketch is based around a kind of anachronistic "partridge in a pair tree" motif. Each day, for the next twelve days, he will go to the same lady's house and try to ingratiate himself with her by presenting her with random gifts. But there's an extra layer of quirkiness to the whole comedian's concept: his challenge is to do this without speaking; he must communicate solely with noises and gestures. Perhaps he was already aware that Aisha was blind and chose her especially, adding another layer of complexity to the comedian’s routine. Or perhaps the whole thing was a beautiful discovery which has added an inadvertent dimention to this comedian’s crazy idea. This is the kind of idea Dave Gorman might entertain, or possibly a Dave Gormanesque upstart. Perhaps one challenge is to see if this strange event will make it on to Google. Dave Gorman will be searching for words like "random potted plant incident" and "blind girl potted plant speech impaired man" in the hope of finding her interpretation of the story on her Facebook page, or maybe the story on a friend's blog. Well hello Mr Gorman. I'm on to you. I know you're reading this, and I know what I'm writing is being broadcast on TV, and so I might as well take this opportunity to alert you of the fact that my alien/Prime Minister comedy sketch is copyright, so don't you even think about stealing it and pretending it’s your own!

I wonder what will happen next. Will Dave Gorman now focus his next random event on me, or is there yet another layer of complexity to this whole thing? Well I'm ready Mr Gorman! I'm ready for you if you come to my house, make a series of noises and gestures, then hand me an antique washing mangle before walking off into the distance to do a Google search for "man in Hartlepool antique washing mangle". Be warned though, Mr Gorman, that I am also blind, and so you'd get the same kind of reaction to your gestures that you got with my friend, which may make for a rather repetitive show, unless you're going for that Little Britain thing. I don't mind though. If you want to come to my house and do some recording for your new TV program then I'm well up for it. I've prepared a few lines to spice it up a bit. But I won't be happy if I see my alien/Prime Minister sketch on the TV or if I hear you on Thought for the Day talking about racist women on busses!

You'll Never Guess What I Did Today!

2011-06-04T00:39:00.000+01:00

Two women sitting on a bus: one woman said to the other woman (this isn't a joke by the way, I don't want to raise your hopes; this happened on the bus a few minutes ago) "You'll never guess what I did today". The other woman started to speak but the first woman cut across her and proceeded to tell her what she had done today, which in my book is cheating. She didn't even get a chance to guess. Dirty tactics! So I assume she was merely using the phrase "you'll never guess what I did today" without really thinking about it in any particular detail. Well I'm not the kind of person to let her get away with that sort of phraseological frittering, and now I've mentioned this woman's lazy figure of speech in my blog; that'll show her! Anyway, if I keep on analysing her whole conversation in as much detail as I have done so far then this blog post will be never ending (to use a lazy figure of speech, because of course it will end. If nothing else, I will die and then it will have to end. Unless I can produce offspring who will continue the blog post after I'm gone, but even then it must, at some point, come to an end. And anyway, what woman would want to enter into a relationship and reproduce with a man who's unyielding obsessive preoccupation is to maintain a constant, never ending banal blog post. So yes, the post must end at some point. Religious fanatics may make fruitless predictions about when the post's end will come, but they will inevitably claim that they merely miscalculated when it doesn't actually happen at the time they'd specified. You'd have thought that before making such a bold prediction and trumpeting it in the media, he would have asked a friend to check his sums to save him all that embarrassment. O yeah, I just did some satire all over your arse - in case you were wondering what that queazy feeling was. But yes, this blog post must end at some point).

The content of the woman's day was not particularly interesting; not when you compare it to her opening line which has resulted in over 200 words of analysis.

She was talking about a conversation she'd had with a group of girls who she'd just met that day. The anecdote took the form of: "Then one girl said" ... "and another girl said …" "and then another girl said …" and so on. This went on for a while and I was beginning to lose interest in this stranger's tale. But then she said "and then, this coloured girl said ...". Why did she feel the need to specify that this girl was "coloured". All the other girls had just been described as "a girl", but this woman obviously felt the need to mention that this particular girl who said this particular thing was "coloured". The fact that she was "coloured" had no baring on what the girl had said from what I could tell. The whole conversation between these girls sounded dull. All the girls in the conversation were saying dull things, as was "this coloured girl". It wasn't even as if "this coloured girl" had said anything illuminating which changed the course of the conversation. She was just as dull as the rest of the girls, who I assume must have all been white, otherwise why make the distinction?

When the second woman heard the first woman say what "this coloured girl" had said, she made a noise that gave the impression that she also thought that the fact that this girl was "coloured" added another dimension to the bland story.

What does she mean by "coloured" anyway? Presumably someone who isn't white. But why "coloured?" Surely i, as a white man, can be labeled as "coloured" just as readily as a person with a different skin colour to mine?

I remember a poem that a teacher read during a primary school assembly which made this very point:

"When I was born, I was black. When I grew up, I was black. When I get hot, I am black. When I get cold, I am black. When I am sick, I am black. When I die, I am black.  When you were born, You were pink. When you grew up, You were white. When you get hot, You go red. When you get cold, You go blue. When you are sick, You go purple. When you die, You go green.  AND YET YOU HAVE THE CHEEK TO CALL ME COLOURED!!!"

So there you go. Surely this blog post is a contender for a Thought of the Day item on radio 4's Today program? at the very least I should get an appearance on Pause for Thought on radio 2. I'll edit it a bit so it's radio friendly; take out the more rambly parts and the word arse, and then once that's done it'll be a poignant, socially observant item, perfect for sentimental radio features like Thought for the day or Pause for Thought.

THE END!

The young'uns Podcast 104: Feet, fish, flirting, philosophy, fricatives and folk.

2011-05-26T21:18:00.004+01:00

The new summer series of the Young'uns podcast is here:

This week, we speak to Michael Hughes as he gets his feet eaten by fish; Mike shamelessly flirts with a woman cooking bacon just to get an extra rasher; we attempt an interview with a none-moving statue; are the Young'uns gay? We reveal all - possibly to each other. Plus: an escaping infirm cat, stomach noises and top tips for perverts. "But what about the folk?" (Well, if you insist.) There's also recorded material taken from the Young'uns at Hardraw, Liverpool and Peterborough.

You can download the podcast
here
or stream it
Here
or for you flash fans out there

Subscription options will follow soon, (such as downloading and subscribing to the podcast in Itunes) to follow soon.

Hang the DJ

2011-05-17T21:19:00.002+01:00

In the first David Eagle's Pick and
Mix
(which you can listen and download here)
I mentioned that I would write a blog post about some of my favourite DJ's in an attempt to hopefully introduce you to some quality audio experiences and also so that you will no who to blame for my DJing attempts. So here goes.

December 2001: A trail came on bbc radio 1 that consisted of lots of different tracks all woven into one another and over the top of each other in a 30 second mix, advertising a program to be broadcast on Christmas night by 2 Many DJ’s called Hang the DJ. At the time, I'd never heard of
2 Many DJ’s, also known as Soulwax, but I was compelled to listen because of the trail.

That Christmas had the potential to be really depressing for me; in 2001 I would have been 16, and my dad decided that this meant I was now old enough to learn that he and my mother had been lying to me all these Christmas's and that this Santa bloke who I'd been trying my hardest to be good for all these years didn't actually exist?! Fortunately my disillusionment with life was tempered by the 2 Many DJ’s show.

It certainly didn't disappoint. I sat by the radio and listened to the whole thing enraptured. It was the first time I'd come across the concept of the "bootleg) as it was labelled: Mixing the vocal of one song with the instrumental of another. Nowadays it's common practise and has spawned many a pop hit but it seemed really innovative to me back then.

I remember my girlfriend at the time ringing me up to wish me a merry Christmas. She'd bought me loads of presents--a lot more than I'd bought her--and I am ashamed to say that rather than saying "thank you, merry Christmas" and engaging in conversation, I told her I was too busy to talk because I was doing something really important. I think she felt a bit put out at the time but I'm sure that if she's reading this blog post now, she'll willingly forgive me the transgression considering that "really important" thing led to the concept for David Eagle's Pick and Mix which has obviously helped make the world a better place.

I recorded the mix on a couple of c90 cassettes. I've uploaded that original recording for you here. The whole mix is there, apart from the few missing seconds from turning over to the next side and changing the tape. I hope those missing seconds haven't lost us some precious moment of genius, but I don't remember thinking so at the time.

Click here to Listen.
Click here to download.
Or you can access the flash option if you'd rather stream it from this blog so you can enjoy listening while looking at the photo of my face.

I'll release the next David Eagle's Pick and Mix sometime this year but the main priority will be the Young'uns Podcasts, the first of which will be here by the end of this week / beginning of next week.

I hope you enjoy the mix. Listening to it again ten years later still brings me back to that Christmas, sitting by the radio in ore, telling my girlfriend to piss off … O the memories!

110 % Pacific

2011-05-16T19:03:00.005+01:00

I'm writing this blog post while pretending to be writing something else. I'm at a training course and I think the woman at the front doing the talking is very flattered and impressed that I am furiously typing notes about what she's saying. She may also be quite taken aback by my furious note taking because she may be aware of the fact that what she's saying is a load of bollix. In some respects though, I am making notes about what she's saying because I've just made the observation that what she's saying is "a load of bollix". I've also made a reference to what seems to be the whole premise of her talk for the last ten minutes which is about the importance of being "110 % pacific".

I'm confused. She wants me to represent more of the pacific than the pacific itself? But not just me, she wants everyone in the room to be 10 % more pacific than the pacific itself. Has she any idea what she's asking us
To do? Firstly, she's completely disregarded the makeup of our human bodies. To turn flesh, blood and bone into ocean is no small feat. Secondly, if we somehow did manage to make ourselves more pacific than the pacific itself then what about the wider provocations? Such a mutation would undoubtedly cause terrible damage to our planet: earthquakes and tsunamies galore". I doubt many of us would survive such an ordeal; not that any of the pacific people would enjoy this form of survival anyway, knowing that we'd destroyed our friends and family and billions of other people just because of one errant, maverick woman's baffling instructions at a team leaders’ training course.

When this training course first started it seemed fairly prosaic. Firstly, we played a game where we had to associate each day of the week with a certain temperature and colour. You could try playing this game at home if you like, although you may not get the full impact of the game because we were privileged to have a properly qualified teacher - sorry, learning facilitator (they're not teachers apparently; they don't teach us, they just facilitate our learning. At least they're honest about the fact that they don't actually teach us anything.) I'm not sure exactly what the purpose of the game was meant to be, unless it literally was simply to make me aware that my colleague Phill associates Monday with a dark grey -10 degrees Celsius, as opposed to Fridays' golden 25 degrees Celsius.

We're making people redundant left right and centre: policemen, army staff, council workers; massive household businesses are going bust, yet in spite of all this we can still find enough money to employ none-teachers to facilitate the learning of the tenets of team leading by playing a game where we associate days of the week with temperatures and colours?!

The learning facilitator has just announced that she's handing out feedback forms so that we can give our opinion about the training day. Maybe I should write this blog post on the form. Of course, I won't; I'm far too nice - or coward is - to do that. Besides, she's quite attractive in an odd sort of way and I don't want to scupper my chances of getting with her. I've been making little jockey comments all through the training course in a bid to impress her, but I don't think she's noticed. She doesn't seem to register them as jocular comments, treating them as if I'm saying something serious, taking the comment literally and then making a basic remark in her cooing, patronising, bored voice.

There's something about that voice though that intrigues me. She can't sound that bored all the time? She's fairly young, in her early thirties. She must get excited sometimes. Maybe I can excite her. She sounds so bored that during one of my many drifting off moments I started wondering about how excited she might sound during sex. Is that odd? Of course it is, I didn't need to ask. I wonder if she'd still sound bored or if she might perk up a bit. I could do some role-play with her. We could sit in a room (that we pretend is a classroom) as she goes through her tedious, nonsensical training garbage in her bored voice. As time goes on I seduce her with saucy quips that relate to what she's saying in the training. At first, she treats me with indifference and keeps going with her talk, but in time her voice begins to get a bit more excited as she becomes increasingly aroused. I continue to taunt her with more saucy witticisms as she attempts to focus on the material of the training course and revert back to the bored voice. But it's no use. She can't help herself. She eventually gives in to temptation and ... Shit! I'm writing this on her feedback form!

What the heck? I've just come back to the reality of the situation to hear the bored-voiced woman telling us that we must be "110 % reliable. Hang on, does that make sense? We have to be 110 % pacific and 110 % reliable? I'm now 220 % confused; we can't be both; that's mathematically impossible. Or maybe it's not. Maybe I'm on a course that's just a bit too advanced for people like me with my primitive mathematical assertions and my inability to listen to the learning facilitator without fantasising about having sex with her.

Could this possibly be my most worrying (and perhaps most telling) blog post of them all?

If you're still not bored of reading rants about training courses then
check out a previous post on the issue.
There isn't any sexual content in that one so you can relax.

I am the Milkman of Human Kindness

2011-05-12T10:59:00.000+01:00

I was in the news agents the other day with a friend. (Not the most exciting opening sentence to a blog post but don't be fooled, this story will be epic.) My friend needed to buy a pint of milk because he'd ran out of it and he wanted to make tea and eat serial and do other things that generally involve the need for milk (I told you it got more exciting.)
I waited for my friend in the queue at the counter as he went to get the milk. There were a few people in front of me and as we were in a bit of a rush - eager to get back to make tea and serial and do other things that generally involve the need for milk - we decided that I should wait in the queue while he quickly got the milk and then joined me in the queue with the milk. (A truly genius time saving master plan I'm sure you'll agree. This blog is the place to come for time saving tips, although my best time saving tip for you would be that if you're really serious about saving time then you should probably stop reading this time wasting blog.)

I heard my friend announce that he'd got the milk. This was perfect timing as we were next in the queue. This is when my blindness came into effect and thus an ordinary milk purchase got a bit unusual - teats up you might say, if you are the type of person who is sad enough to make milk based puns. I heard the shopkeeper say to the man in front of me, "So that's one pint of milk". "This must be Ben" I thought. I assumed he must have got the milk and joined me at the front of the queue. As I owed Ben a little bit of money, I decided that I was going to pay for the milk, so I said "I'll pay for this" and handed the shopkeeper the money.

I then discovered that the man in front of me wasn't Ben but a complete stranger. He made some kind of protestation in a very shocked voice. The shopkeeper, assuming that I was a friend of the man, accepted my money and handed the pint of milk to the man. The man went to protest again but his phone rang. He answers his phone and as he walked out the shop I heard him say, still sounding completely shocked, "I don't believe it; the strangest thing has just happened to me!" His voice faded into the distance as he proceeded to tell his friend about the complete stranger who insisted on buying him his pint of milk.

There's a very tiny chance that he's reading this blog, but just in case he is I thought I’d provide him with an explanation of what happened. I thought you were my friend. Perhaps you should be my friend; you owe me a pint of milk mate!

My Accordion, Toilet Story on Youtube

2011-05-06T12:46:00.000+01:00

What an exciting bank holiday weekend: One royal wedding and a dead Taliban leader. And a new YouTube clip of the Young'uns performing live!

For me, a great Young'uns gig isn't really about how well we perform musically because I'm always confident that we'll do that reasonably well; it's more about the bits in between the songs that dictate whether I feel a gig was great or not. In fact, one of my favourite gigs we ever did was one where I had a really sore throat and was for all intents and purposes unable to sing. So we just talked. It had the potential to be a really stressful and bad performance; I'd been gigging for the last four days and was feeling really ill. We had to stop some songs halfway through because I just kept coughing really loudly while the other two fruitlessly attempted to compensate and cover my coughs. But the bits in between the songs - which was about 90 % of the gig - were amazing. We ended up telling anecdotes about things that happened to us on tour and the audience seemed to love it, laughing hysterically. Nowadays this is how are performances tend to be, only with a bit more singing than in that gig, but that potentially hideous gig was a major influence on how we now perform.

Here's a bit in between the songs that someone kindly put on YouTube. I was hoping to be telling this story all the way through the summer run of festivals, but I think the YouTube clip's kind of buggered that up now.
So I thought I might as well help perpetuate its buggering up powers by putting it up on my blog. So here it is; some accordion related toilet humour.

Right then, I'm off to try and write this joke that's been brewing in my head for the last few days. It's something to do with Bin Laden and refuse collecting but I can't tell you at the moment until I've ironed out a few of the finer nuances of my amazing joke. I think you'll be very impressed by it though.

It's Another Bloody Bus Story!

2011-04-27T20:00:00.001+01:00

It's another bloody bus story! Actually the bus part of the story features fairly minimally because the bus I was on - heading back home after a long day's work - broke down and we all had to get off it while an engineer came from somewhere miles away to try and fix the problem.
It was a half an hour wait for the next bus and the engineer would be at least half an hour before he turned up. I decided that because I was only a 15 minute walk away from my house that it would be a good idea to walk the rest of the journey. So I headed off the bus with everyone else and started walking.

I was quite glad to be getting away from my bus companions because there was a number of small, noisy children with parents who were either very apathetic or very deaf; so I wasn't bothered about having to walk, in fact I was looking forward to it because it was a good excuse to use my Satnav
(see this post if you were unfortunate and missed my lovely satnav post).

I'd only taken a few steps when the bus driver shouted at me to stop. I turned back round. "You can't walk" he shouted, "you'll have to wait till the next bus". I was a bit confused by this statement, given that, in my opinion, I'd been doing a pretty good approximation of walking before he'd stopped me; it'd been taking me from A-to-B so I assume I’D been doing it right. I explained to him - over the increasingly louder screaming children - that I only lived about fifteen minutes walk away and that I knew the way back home. The bus driver protested, saying it was too dangerous for me to walk. I reciprocated by pointing out that I'd walked the route before, I knew the way and I wanted to get home in fifteen minutes rather than 45 minutes, especially since I was getting pretty desperate for the toilet. I then cheerily thanked him for his concern and assured him that I'd be fine and started to walk off again. The bus driver shouted at me to stop. I turned my head around and shouted back that I was fine and continued to walk. one of the waiting bus passengers ran up to me and took hold of me. I tried to once again assure the bus driver and now the passenger that I would be fine but the passenger cut across me: "If you walk then I'll call the police!" The police? I started laughing at the absurdity of all this and once again attempted to explain that I was fine and that this was starting to get a bit over-the-top. The passenger's response to this was to take hold of me with even greater force and say in a very sympathetic tone, "look, you're blind son". I didn't point out the paradox of that statement; instead I told him that I was fully aware that I was blind. Sadly, he didn't then immediately let go of me and say, "o right, sorry, well just as long as you know; I'll let you go on your way now then".

What could I do? By this point, other passengers were joining the scene and some screaming children came over to see what was going on. I should have stood my ground which I suppose is actually exactly what I did do in a very literal sense because I didn't move. I ended up waiting for half an hour with the screaming children and a load of very condescending passengers, who tried to take my mind off my aggravation at the situation by distracting me with a litany of questions about my blindness: "how long have you been blind?" "how much can you see?" "how did you become blind?" "how many fingers am I holding up?" "where's your carer?" ... So I was essentially held hostage and then interrogated under the torture of bladder pain.

Then to add insult to injury, an old age pensioner (not one of the young ones under 60 - an old age pensioner) turned to the waiting crowd and announced, "actually, I only live ten minutes away so I might as well walk home rather than pointlessly waiting for twenty minutes". The crowd parted and let him through as he nonchalantly walked past me and headed off whistling in the direction that I was going in which was apparently "too dangerous". Then another man spoke up and said that he too would rather walk than wait and again the crowd parted and let him walk in the same direction. To add further insult to injury, this man was walking with a crutch.

Fortunately I did eventually get home, although I was a bit concerned that they might not have let me get off the bus by myself and insisted I ordered a taxi to take me the 215 yards from the bus stop to my house (I really am too obsessed with the Satnav).

When I did get home I was so relieved to be finally able to go to the toilet and far too hungry to brood too much about the whole situation. I do however feel annoyed and upset that out of a bus load of passengers, not one of them seemed to think that it was completely inappropriate and ignorant to refuse me the right to walk a fifteen minute route just because it happened to involve a main road, despite my confidence and anything I said.

I've told this story to a few people and all of my friends think it's a bit out-of-order, although one old woman I met on the bus afterwards who was present at the scene said "that was really nice of them to be so concerned; real community spirit". I wanted to punch her.

I hope that you can see why I'm so appalled by what happened and you're not thinking like that old woman and those passengers. This to me indicates the very apparent existence of the negative stereotypes about blind people that indicate why there are so many unemployed blind people.

A few days ago I was crossing a road and an old woman pulled me back. "no! you're going the wrong way!" she shrieked in my ear. I informed her that I was not going the wrong way, but she continued to pull at me and shrieked again with more defiance "no, you don't go that way!" I asked her what on earth she was going on about. "I've seen you do this journey before and you always turn right; you don't cross this road. Come on, I'll take you the right way!" I hope you appreciate that I do try and be as polite as I can in these situations when what I really want to do is punch these people. I explained to her that I usually go the other way because I usually go somewhere different to the place that I'm going to today, so therefore today I need to go a different way to get to the different place. There was a pause, then she said, "o, Ok". I thought that she would now let go of me and I could be on my way but she kept hold of me and insisted that she took me across the road, then persisted to insist that she walked the whole journey with me, holding on to me and walking very slowly. Before she eventually left me she said to me in a sympathetic tone, "I understand what it's like; my dad was just like you". She then gave me a sweet and walked off leaving me to feel confused and a bit shit. She might have meant that I was like her dad because we are both extremely good looking, intelligent or amazingly funny, but I think it's more likely that she meant that we were both blind, and this obviously makes us identical.

I hope you can see why this riles me so much. If this happened once in a while then it might be Ok but there's always something every day that suggests that people think I'm incapable of functioning on anything remotely resembling a "normal" level. If you've read my other posts about various problems with getting work because of people's attitudes to blindness then hopefully you can see why my aggravation compounds. However, if I don't want people to view me purely as "blind” then I suppose I should probably stop writing about it; so here ends my rant.

In other news: The new series of the young'uns podcast is coming very soon; This means regular Young'uns podcast episodes. I'm planning on recording podcasts at all the festivals we do so that should be a really good summer run. I’ve also put down the satnav and made a start on the next Pick and Mix

Thanks for reading; I know it's only because I'm blind! Byeeeeee!

I have an addiction

2011-04-14T20:55:00.002+01:00

I'm writing this blog post from a really hot bus - that's "hot" as in the temperature not "hot" as in sexually alluring, I'm not particularly attracted to busses; well, apart from the 93 from Middlesbrough to Scarborough, but then who wouldn't be? As regular readers will know-ever the optimist-I tend to write my blog entries from busses on the way to and from work, which gives me plenty of writing time since I spend 4 hours a day on them. Although I haven't blogged for a while, I have still been doing a lot of bus travel. The reason for my lack of bus based blogging is to do with a newly acquired gadget that I've been using addictively. It's a satnav. It may seem a little strange that I should be using a Satnav at all given that I am blind and can't drive, never mind the fact that I use it on a bus, but this particular satnav is especially designed for blind people. Rather than the satnav voice just telling you to turn left or right like the boring satnavs you bland sighted people use, blind satnavs are much more exciting; not only do they give directions but they announce all the street names and the types of buildings you pass. On a practical level, the satnav has in all honesty revolutionised my life. I can now travel to new places all by myself without needing to know the route or continuously ask people for directions. It also means that I don't have to ask people to tell me when we get to the bus stop I want to get off at, and any technological device that reduces the need to talk to pesky people is obviously very worthwhile. To try and put the amazingness of the satnav into perspective: I visited my friend Ben recently in York. By the help of the satnav I located Newcastle train station, then got off the train in York and walked a 20 minute walk in a completely unfamiliar area to be successfully guided to Ben's house. I can even record my own landmarks such as bus stops so that I know exactly how to get to places that aren't on the standard map installed on the satnav.

So it does have immense practical value. However, I must confess that I have been using it needlessly to the point of it being an addiction. When I'm being driven to places by a friend or in a taxi, I will turn on the satnav and listen intently to the names of the streets. During this quality time with the satnav I tend not to join in with conversation around me and ignore what people are saying to me. I seem to find street names more interesting than the nonsense my friends go on about. I suppose it's the thrill of the whole thing-the adventure: Will we turn left on Bernard street or right on to Albert Street? I can feel my heart rate increase as we get closer to the turn, as the anticipation builds. I'm sure you all know the feeling. Just writing about it makes me feel excited! It's not just the street names that I get though (although this would be enough excitement for anyone) I also get the speed, distance travelled, distance from my various landmarks (such as my pre-programmed bus stops) and of course the all important altitude.

But my addiction doesn't stop there. I see no reason why I should stop addictively using my satnav just because of a small factor like the fact that I'm not actually travelling. The makers of the satnav have created their product with the crazed addict in mind. I can sit in the comfort of my own home while stationary, without the need for GPS coverage and replay the routes that I have previously travelled using the virtual mode. So I can be sitting in my home in Hartlepool and relive the rollercoaster of a journey that was the trip from my house to the venue that I did a gig at in Peterborough a fortnight ago: Every twist and every turn, every rise and drop in altitude, the increases and decreases in speed is mine to relive now and forever, over and over again. When I have children, instead of bedtime stories, we can go on virtual adventures together, reliving journey's taken in year's gone by: "This is your mother walking down the isle at 2.7 miles per hour at an altitude of 50 feet. She walks the 18 yard walk then makes an 172 degrees turn to face me".

But the fun doesn't stop there. I'm not merely limited to reliving the epic voyages taken in my past; I can also explore new routes that I've never taken before without having to actually bother leaving the house. I can programme in any destination and any starting point, which means I could travel from Buckingham Palace to the Blackpool tower without having to leave my house. Genius!

I must apologise for anyone who has travelled with me over the last couple of weeks for not listening to anything they've been saying and interrupting their attempts to converse with me with a cavalcade of stats about our speed, distance altitude, the names of the streets and the distance we are at any given time from any given bus stop in the area. It's come as a bit of a shock to me, but not everyone seems to share my enthusiasm for these comprehensive commentaries-the continuously updating unexpurgated minutiae of the journey.

Perhaps I should mention the name of the Satnav and then this will constitute a professionally written review of the product. The company might even use this blog post as part of their literature. I see know reason why not.
It’s the Trekker Breeze from Humanware.

Unfortunately, the satnav addiction has not only affected my ability to blog but also my work on the next David Eagle’s Pick and Mix which I have yet to start.

This is David Eagle, travelling at a speed of 32 miles per hour at an altitude of 72 ft, signing off. O no! I can’t stop myself! Help!

The Young'uns Podcast 103: Hartlepool Tall Ships Festival 2010

2011-03-30T21:27:00.003+01:00

In 2010, The Young'uns' Sean Cooney committed a terrible act that we really can't talk about. His sentence was to organise a folk event as part of Hartlepool's tall ships festival alongside Hartlepool borough Council with oodles of red tape and risk assessment forms. Sean took this great responsibility like a man and did Hartlepool and the folk community proud, hosting an incredible event with an amazing list of performers. This Young'uns Podcast aims to capture the joys of the festival through recorded performances, interviews and various random happenings that took place over the festival.

There's music from Polish Shanty group
Brasy,
world folk from
Sheelanagig,
Mrs Trevor's Deep Freeze Secrets,
the Askew Sisters,
Paul martin and Ian Mckoen. Plus there's world-class kazoo playing from a children's marching band; find out what folk musicians get up to late at night; we expose the folk group that have launched an attack on the blind; Michael Hughes dices with the law; The Young'uns get involved in some interesting collaborations, and of course there's the obligatory smattering of puns. I could go on, but what's the point when you can find out for yourself.

Click here to listen.
Click Here to Download.

Remember, you can catch up with the previous 102 podcasts
here
how about listening to all 103 of them in one sitting, perhaps for charity?

Thanks to everyone who came to see
The Young’uns
in Peterborough; we had a very enjoyable night. Thanks also to Toby wood who wrote this review of the gig, which is a completely accurate and well-considered critique of the proceedings:

“I would love to be a fly on the windscreen of the car transporting to a gig the three chaps who comprise The Young ‘Uns. (I should emphasise that I would hope that my fly incarnation would ideally be on the inside, not the outside!). The reason for this somewhat odd entreaty is that I could spend a few hours listening to Sean Cooney, David Eagle and Michael Hughes practising as they speed along.
The Young ‘Uns are in essence an a cappella group, hence the ease of being able to practise in the car with a fly for company. Just as well the trio don’t play harp, double bass and grand piano!
Along with friends and a healthy audience I was fortunate enough to see Cooney, Eagle and Hughes at Baston Folk Club on a Friday night, as opposed to the club’s customary Thursday. Oh the thrill of a change of night – we do know how to enjoy ourselves! I write ‘fortunate’ because, according to details on their website, The Young ‘Uns only seem to perform live two or three times a month, possibly due to the fact that they all have ‘proper’ jobs as community artist, producer and teacher. Indeed should Mr Hughes (as I presume his teacher name to be) ever get fed up of the teaching life he could easily get a job as a doppelganger for Marcus Brigstocke, so physically reminiscent is he of the comedian. Sean’s own website is so full of educational and cultural activity that no wonder The Young ‘Uns don’t gig that much. Want a Tall Ships Folk Festival organising? Then Sean’s yer man! And as for David – well just type his name into YouTube and you’ll find a wealth of humorous clips and quips as well as lengthy ‘Pick and Mix’ sessions. In short individual talent abounds.
The group performed mostly traditional shanties and homages to Hartlepool but all in a way that had a modern touch. Indeed a James Taylor song made a brief appearance alongside my own personal favourite, Sean’s ‘Jenny Waits For Me’, a poignant tale of men at sea.
I took a while to try to work out why the trio actually worked and then it clicked. Individually they appear so diverse, singular and individual yet as a threesome they blend seamlessly together, each appreciating the other’s strengths without becoming competitive or domineering (a sort of folkie Crosby, Stills and Nash). This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that they can spend two or three minutes in a comedic, laugh out loud introduction and then suddenly swoop into a song that requires concentration and even a little gravitas. They simultaneously revere the material and recognise that pleasing an audience is paramount.
The Young ‘Uns are one of those acts that’s best seen live. Their quirky and enthusiastic mix of seriousness and laughter is infectious.
Just one gripe! I’m just not keen on the name ‘The Young ‘Uns’. What will happen when they hit fifty (assuming they are still playing together)? Will they become ‘The Middle-aged ‘Uns’ or ‘The Receding and Increasingly Podgy ‘Uns’. Perhaps they ought to cross that bridge when they get to it.”

Yes, very accurate and well-considered.

So what will the next project be? I’m planning on starting work on the next Pick and Mix in the next few days so perhaps it will be that, though I imagine there’ll be two or three long rambling blogs written from busses in the meantime.

A Little Joke I Just Made Up

2011-03-21T00:02:00.005Z

So there I was, just ten minutes ago, standing by the sandwiches and wraps stand in the Marks and Spencers shop in the Trowell service station just outside Nottingham about to purchase a Hoisin Duck wrap when
I had the comedy equivalent of the Eureka moment. There's just no telling when genius will strike - in the bath or in the Marks and Spensers sandwiches and Wraps isle. So here's my joke:

I have a friend who is totally blind and totally deaf. He has very poor orientation with no sense of direction; he's always crashing into stuff and falling over. However, he has this uncanny ability to locate checkout tills. As soon as we're in a shop he moves at great speed and with complete ease in the direction of the checkout till. I asked him "how do you do it?" to which he replied, "Well, I suppose it's because I'm counter intuitive".

I'm currently in a car with my fellow
Young'uns,
heading back home after a gig in Surrey. Gardeners questions is on radio 4, and so we're driving through the streets with the windows down, Gardeners Questions on full volume,
blasting out conversations about Couch grass, Pine weed and the best way to propagate Delphiniums. That's the way we roll, o yeah!

The Hartlepool tall ships podcast is coming even sooner than it was when I mentioned that it was "coming soon" the last time. I'll be back with it in the next few days.

I dedicate this blog post to Jamey the security guard at Gateshead bus Station who reads the blog. The strange thing about writing a blog is that I get really surprised and taken aback when someone says they read it, even though the whole point of writing it is for people to read, as well as to satisfy my ego obviously. Also, people at work have now discovered the blog and my Youtube videos; This has led to a few interesting encounters where people come up to me and make references to things in my videos and posts. So rather than just saying "hey I watched your
Bleating Love Parody on Youtube",
they will come up to me and say something like "I can't believe he shot the poor sheep". As I'm in work mode, living under my work-based Alta ego Davis Eagles
(see this post if you're confused)
I'm not really expecting this and I find the whole thing a bit baffling especially when I'm in a group of people who are completely oblivious as to why a colleague has come up to me and said "I can't believe he shot the poor sheep". Jamy the security guard at Gateshead bus station walked up to me a few days ago and greeted me by saying rather loudly in front of a group of very bemused passengers, "I love your Mongol Sex post mate". People started quickly inching away from us, a bit fearful, unsure of what he could possibly mean by "my Mongol Sex Post".
I then had to explain to the frightened crowd that he was referring to
a blog post I'd written which was perfectly innocent,
but I don't think this really placated anyone. So hello to you Jamey and to anyone else associated with Gateshead bus station.

Thanks for reading, bye!

Mongol Sex

2011-03-08T12:29:00.003Z

In Google webmaster tools, you can see what searches people do in order to find and click on your website. The most common search terms are things like "David Eagle" and
"the Young'uns"
but down near the bottom of the list is the search term "Mongol sex".
Presumably this is due to
this blog post,
where I wrote (on the subject of Shortwave radio):
"you're on the shortwave band and that slight touch can tune you into a completely different station and into a completely different world. One moment you're listening to an enraged American evangelist damning you to hell unless you send him money, then you touch the dial ever so slightly and you're listening to a French radio drama with Lesbian sex scenes; then the sound of a Mongolian throat singer, belting out the popular Mongolian hits of the day. ..."

I can just imagine some sweaty pervert (o god, I hope no one finds me by searching for "sweaty pervert") breathing heavily over his laptop, anticipating some hot Mongolian porn, finding my website in Google search with the following words shown:
"... Lesbian sex scene .. Mongolian throat ...".
then clicking to see what this Lesbian sex scene Mongolian throat website is all about, only to see a picture of my face and a blog post about Vick Reeves and smelly pirates with hairy knees. O well, you never know, perhaps there are people out there with a sexual interest in Vick Reaves, smelly pirates and hairy knees. I look forward to more revelations from Google in the near future.

Hartlepool's Tall Ships Young'uns Podcast coming soon!

Pirates, pilgrims and Pub Philosophy

2011-03-03T22:14:00.002Z

"Pirates", "pilgrims", "pub" and "philosophy" are four words that begin with the same consonant and so I suppose is an example of alliteration; however the word philosophy does not begin with a hardened P sound and so is it really alliteration in the true sense? Thank god for the Internet; I could probably find this out relatively quickly. In the olden days we'd have to sit and watch hundreds of
QI
episodes in the vain hope of finding the answer. I may do an Internet search to get some information about this and include my findings at the end of this post. You'll have to read on though to find out. Now I've got you interested.

I'm writing this post from a bus. I know this will be great news to you all; I tried writing my last blog post from a different location to the bus but I'm sure you'll all agree that I write much better when I'm blogging from a bus. There's a certain poetry about my bus posts; a certain je ne sais quoi maybe - I don't know. Before I actually write about what I'd planned to write about, I should probably set the scene a little bit; it might explain why this post might turn out to be a bit rubbish.

As regular readers will know, I usually write from the x9 bus. Each morning I get the 36 bus from Hartlepool to Bilingham and then the x9 from Billingham to Gateshead. I usually set off from my house at 7:30 and arrive in Gateshead (where I work) at about 9:15.
I have managed to inadvertently train my brain to associate work with blessed relief. Invariably, by the time I get to work, I am utterly desperate for the toilet; I run into the building with a wide grin on my face, race across to my office, throw down my bags and coat and rush down the corridor in the direction of the toilet, panting and shouting "thank god, I'm here!" Most of the staff probably think I'm a crazed workaholic and this is probably why they avoid me, but in actuality I'm just a man with a very full bladder, exulted by the fact that I can finally relieve my liquid burden - which is a very poetic way of saying "have a piss"; I'm so poetic.

The first reason this blog post might be rubbish (although it's going pretty well so far I'm sure you'll agree) is because I am even more desperate for the toilet than usual. The reason for this is because I’m running late. I set off from my house at the same time that I usually do; in fact it was slightly earlier than normal. Either the 36 bus didn't turn up or it had come early. I was not late. Nevertheless, the bus didn't come and I had to get the next one, meaning I had missed my connecting bus. Because I'd been stood at a bus stop for 30 minutes as opposed to the usual two minutes, the cold had gone to my bladder and I started to need the toilet. Unfortunately, because I'd missed the x9 bus from Billing ham, I would now have to travel even further on the 36 to Norton to catch the x10. Unfortunately again, I have another 20 minute wait in Norton before the x10 comes, meaning another 20 minutes for the cold to effect my bladder, increasing my need for the toilet. What makes the situation even more frustrating is that Norton is in the opposite direction to Gateshead, so I've had to travel further away from the place I want to be and then come back again in the opposite direction. I set off from my house at 7:30; I was stood at a bus stop, desperate for the toilet, in the cold about 50 minutes later from leaving my house, further away from the place I wanted to get to than I was when I was lying in bed this morning. I'm eventually starting to head in the right direction again after one hour and 15 minutes of setting off from my house.

Phew! Glad I got that off my chest. I hope you managed to follow all that. I imagine that in the future, perhaps when I'm dead, there will be throngs of David Eagle worshipers making pilgrimages, setting off early in the mornings to travel the famed route as detailed in this blog post. Congregations from all over the world will set off from my house - which has now been turned into a David Eagle themed place of worship - and stand at the relevant bus stops - which are still standing exactly as they did in my day because they have been deemed as buildings of historic interest and are protected under heritage law. The congregation will drink a special potion that makes the drinker desperate for the toilet - to be honest drinking lots of water would have had just the same effect but the potion makers got in on the act and started profiting on the back
Of my name; this makes me very angry, as I specifically wrote in an authoritative and widely quoted blog post about the evils of false profits (you see what I did there?) The pilgrims will eventually - after a large amount of tedious bus travel - arrive at my place of work which has also been turned into a place of worship. They will run into the building with broad grins on their faces, race through the corridors towards the toilets shrieking ecstatically "thank god, we're here!" They then all pile into the toilet and what happens after that is probably best left to your imagination, but this is something else about the whole affair that upsets me, and I do not condone that sort of behaviour in my name.

Anyway, last Tuesday we, is in
The Young’uns
recorded our duet with
Vick Reeves
about smelly pirates with hairy knees. It went very well. I feel really sorry for the studio staff: the producers and technicians working on the project had to spend a whole day in a recording studio, recording different musicians and actors and the Young'uns doing take after take, singing the same one minute song: "I'm a smelly pirate, with hairy knees" etc etc, over and over again.

I suppose I better explain a bit more about this song and the film since all I've mentioned so far is that my folk group are singing a song with Vick Reeves about smelly pirates with hairy knees. The project is a film animation that has a budget of £3'0000000 - I'm sure that at least a third of that money was spent on the smelly pirate song. I think that the story and the songs are all written by children. The film is animated and produced by the film company who are responsible for Wallace and Grommet - not responsible for them in terms of their welfare, making sure they've got enough cheese; I suppose you knew what I meant. They also have celebrities doing various voices, such as
David Walliams,
Harry Hill,
Miranda Hart,
Catherine Tate
and of course Vick Reeves.
O, and, of course, The young'uns.
The project isn't complete yet and so I've not heard the finished smelly Pirate song but I’ll let you know as soon as I do.

An accurate barometer of the Young'uns' success and popularity is the amount of paperwork we have to sign. When we first started out doing this folk music lark, we would just do gigs in pubs in front of who ever would listen. As time has gone on, we've had to sign contracts for performances, appearances and recordings; these contracts have grown exponentially both in frequency and content. We did a gig recently at the Sage theatre in Gateshead. We were one of a number of acts on the bill that night, which was a folk against fascism event. The folk against fascism concept derives from the comments made by
British National Party
leader
Nick Griffin
who suggested that bnp members should go to folk clubs because they might be a good place for recruiting members. This inference that folk clubs and folk music was in anyway associated with the beliefs of the bnp was met with outrage by the folk fraternity including many folk musicians and many high-profiled singers who made anti-fascists speeches and countered the idea that British folk music was fascist simply because it was British, celebrating tradition and history. Anyway, we were only on stage at the sage for about 15 minutes and it took us longer than that to read and sign the various contracts: the health and safety contract, image rights, copyright etc. The copyright document was interesting. You have to write the names of all the songs you're going to perform that night - which is a bit of an issue since we normally don't decide this until we're on stage. You then have to write down the name of the song writer for each of the songs so that they can get the money from
PRS.
This is a bit of a fruitless exercise as the majority of the songs we sing are either written by people, who have been dead for centuries, are people who aren't on prs, or the songs are traditional folk songs
and the writer is unknown. If this trend continues and we have to sign even longer and more ludicrously convoluted contracts before we can actually do a gig then we might have to start increasing our fee to compensate for the large amount of time taken up by the contracts.

After the recording, we went to the pub to celebrate the success of this soon to be historic song. Just before we left the pub, there was a group of people who started filing in. One of them approached us and asked: "here for the philosophy in pubs night lads?" He was disappointed when we informed him that we had no idea what a philosophy in pubs night was and that unfortunately we had to scoot off and would not be joining in; apparently they want new blood in the group. I asked what philosophy in pubs was all about and apparently it's a group of people who meet each fortnight in the pub, take a vote about what subject to talk about, then philosophise. I decided to do an interview with the group which we'll feature on a future
Young'uns podcast
episode along with the pirate song.

Anyway, this brings me to the final paragraph and now you know the reason for the four p words in the blog post title. According to my Internet searching, words still count as being alliterated even if the consonants don't sound the same, so "Pirates with pneumonia in pubs philosophising" is alliteration even if they don't all start with hardened P sounds. Anyway, the bus has finally arrived at Gateshead and so I can finally go to work and enjoy making a P sound of my very own – or should that be “pee” sound (o I'm so poetic!)

Vick Reeves, Hairy Knees and the Weakest Link

2011-02-19T23:27:00.002Z

All of my blog posts this year have been composed from busses. I've decided to write this post somewhere different than a bus to see if it alters the way I write at all. See what you think. I am writing this post at the Sage theatre in Gateshead, in the cafe area, about to do a rehearsal.
The Young'uns
got an invitation to be on the soundtrack of a film that apparently features
David Walliams,
Vick Reeves,
Catherine Tate,
Miranda Hart
and
Harry Hill.
Apparently we're singing a duet with Vick Reeves about stinky pirates with hairy knees; as you do.
I don't think we'll actually be meeting Vick Reeves; I think he's recording his bit in London. I'm sure he'll be very disappointed when he finds out that we'll be recording our parts in the North East,.

So that's the "Vick Reeves, hairy knees" part of the title explained. The weakest link" part is to do with a radio link that I heard while in a taxi last Friday afternoon. It was the link just before the news, and the presenter obviously wanted to try and do a clever segway between the last song (the Scissor Sisters and I don't Feel like Dancing) into the news bulletin where the main story was the overthrowing of president Mubarak in Egypt. I don't have a recording of the actual broadcast and so I've re-enacted it for you with just a tiny bit of extemporisation and exageration.

On a "weakest link" theme, my friend Ben went to Anne Robinson’s house on New Year eve as part of his band who were asked to perform for the guests. Unfortunately they didn't use "the weakest link" theme as a riff throughout their songs which is what I would have done.

And you thought I was just an ordinary bloke. O no, I've got friends who play gigs at Anne Robinson’s house, and my band are singing a song with Vick Reeves about Stinky pirates with hairy knees.

We record the song for this film on Tuesday so I'll tell you more about it in my next post.

The Young'uns Podcast Returns!

2011-02-14T21:06:00.001Z

It was around this time last year when myself and
fellow Young'un Sean Cooney
were working on a community arts project, going into some of Hartlepool's primary schools to teach children about the history of Hartlepool. Regular listeners to the
Young'uns podcast
Will be aware that Sean works as a community artist, going into schools to teach sea Shanties and traditional folk songs.

The Young'uns
have been involved in a number of educational projects, teaching children about the history of Hartlepool and working with the children to create songs about what they have learned. We also take the children to visit old people's homes and local churches to meet with Hartlepool's older residents. The children ask questions about how their home town used to be and what has changed. This is obviously a valuable experience for the children and a tremendously rewarding one for the older residents, who relish the opportunity to impart stories about their own childhood.

At the start of 2010, Sean was commissioned to work on a project that taught primary school children about the history of Old Hartlepool; They were then helped to write songs, poems and stories about what they had learned. The children also interviewed Hartlepool's older residents. Sean also got them to act in a traditional folk play known as a Mummers’ play. I was commissioned to record the whole thing and compile it all on to a cd.

We will be recording new Young'uns podcasts soon but I thought that since we've got loads of material we haven't released yet, it would be sensible
To release these podcasts first before recording new episodes. Next week, we release a podcast that covers the Hartlepool Tall ships festival that occurred last summer, but this week we release the cd that covers 2010's community arts project: Hild's Tales: stories of old Hartlepool through music, drama and oral history.

This wasn't originally intended as a Young'uns podcast but as a cd which was sent to the funding body who supported the project as evidence that we were doing our job; so you'll hear a much more serious David Eagle than you normally would.
Click here to listen,
click here to download.

Well, you can’t say that this blog doesn’t have variety;
My last post was a DJ mix
and this week it’s a community arts project featuring primary school children. What will the next post bring? Will I be on a bus? Find out, soon!

What do you get when you cross the Chemical Brothers with Flanders and Swann? David Eagle's Pick and Mix: episode 1.

2011-02-05T16:47:00.001Z

So here it is, the first ever David Eagle's Pick and Mix, just in time for the new Chinese year - the year of the rabbit, which should be manner from heaven for the promotions team at Ann Summers.

56 songs in a 40 minute mix. A DJ set that is designed to celebrate the universality of music: no genre dictations or restriction about the time period of the music. This is not a DJ
Set for the club; this is a DJ set for your ears, for your soul. I'm not trying to impassion you to char char slide to my beats, or wave your hands in the air like you just don't care, or "oo oo" to the rhythm. I've just realised that I'm probably coming across as a pretentious snob, but the point I'm trying to make is that this is a mix designed for the music fan: someone who doesn't bass their music preferences purely on a cultural identity - because a certain group of people say that a certain song or artist is "cool" or "the latest thing".
My last blog post
was a fairly extensive explanation of why I wanted to release this project, so I think the best thing to do now is to just give you the links to listen and download and hopefully enjoy what I've put together.

I’ve provided a full tracklist of the music featured in the mix. There is also a link to a free Spotify playlist that contains most of the tracks in the mix. Not all the tracks are hosted on Spotify but I thought it would be good to provide a playlist with those songs that Spotify does have because a lot of the tracks are only featured in the mix for short periods of time and are generally mixed with other songs. Plus if you don't enjoy my mixing, you can hopefully at least hear some quality music that you might have not heard before.

So then, here it is: David Eagle's Pick and Mix: Episode 1.
Click here to listen
Click here to download.

And now on to the tracklist:

Eastenders theme
Sergei Prokofiev – Montagues and Capulets
Xzibit - X
J-Kwon - Tipsy
nina simone - feeling good
Bentley rhythm ace - bentley's gonna sort you out
James Brown – I Feel Good
Chemical Brothers – Music Response
Flanders and Swann - The Wompom
Pendulum - Slam
Queen – We will Rock You
C. C. S – Whole Lotta Love (Top of the Pops theme)
Faith No More – Epic
Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out
Missy Elliott - Get Ur Freak On
Jimi Hendrix – Voodoo Child
Negativland - Moments to Remember Raining Hard etc
Dream Theater – Home
The Flashbulb – Kirlian Shores
System of a Down – Arto
The Offspring – Pay the Man
Bjork – It’s Oh So Quiet
Venetian Snares – Boarded Up Swan Entrance
The Flashbulb – My Life of Loving Ghosts
House of Pain – Jump Around
Bubba Sparxxx - Ugly
Kid Carpet – Jump
OPM – Heaven is a Halfpipe
CKY - Quite Bitter Beings
Papa Roach – Last Resort
Daft Punk - Oh Yeah
Soulwax – Too Many Djs
Aquabats – I fell Asleep on my Arm
Korn – Freak on a Leash
dizzee rascal – Fix up, Look Sharp
RUN-DMC - Walk This Way
Justin Timberlake - Like I Love You
Focus - Sylvia
Max Tundra - Labial
The Beatles – A Day in the Life
Dusty Springfield - Son of a preacher man
Buffalo Springfield - For What Its Worth
Skee-lo- I Wish
The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army
Kelis - Milkshake
High Rankin - Dont Carry On Like A Rude Boy when Daddy’s got a Yacht
Pendulum – Set me on Fire
BT – Every Other Way
Crosby Stills and Nash - Carry On"
Gorillaz - 5/4
Canned Heat - On the Road Again
Booker T & The MGS – Green Onions
The Mojo Men - She's My Baby
Kansas - Carry on Wayward son
Muse – Knights of Cydonia
Wolfmother – Woman

------------

You can hear a free Spotify playlist
Featuring many of the tracks in the mix
Here.

That's all for now. I already have the next mix entirely planned out in my head, but I think the next project might be the first
Youngun’s Podcast
of 2011. I'll be back with a blog post (probably written from a bus) very soon.

David Eagle's Pick and Mix

2011-01-29T13:28:00.004Z

When I was around six years old, my nana worked in a news agents. My brothers and I would often go there when she was working. She probably harboured the grossly inaccurate illusion that we went there to see her, whereas the reality was that we went for the free sweets. Working in the news agents, she got a sweet allowance - these were decadent times. My brothers would always have a systematic approach to sweet picking; they had specific preferences, but I would always go for the Pick and Mix option and select sweets at random. Being blind, I was able to put my hand into a jar and put a sweet into the bag without having much of an idea as to what it was. I loved the surprise element: putting my hand into my random bag of sweets, unaware of what I was about to receive. Would it be
chocolate, candy, something liquoricey, fruity or an explosion of fizz? I loved the variety, the contrasts of taste, texture, shape and size.

Nowadays I don't really eat sweets, but I do listen to a lot of music. Music today is what sweets were to me when I was six.
Often my approach to listening to music is the same as my approach was for making a Pick and Mix. I have a large music library: thousands of tracks in every genre from any period of time. By pressing the shuffle button on the player, I get a randomized selection from my library. I also use Napster which sometimes adds tracks to the playlist that it thinks I might like, based on the kind of music I have in my library. As I have every type of music in my library, Napster usually gets very confused and starts playing any old rubbish, assuming that just because I happen to like one specific NSYNC track for its production, that I will inevitably like to listen to a Westlife hit. Now and again however it does present me with an undiscovered gem. The experience is the same one that I used to get from pick and mixes when I was younger, only now it's with music.

When I was about ten, my dad discovered this local record shop that sold old second hand vinyl and cassettes. He would sometimes go in their and brows to see what they had. This was in my opinion the perfect opportunity for me to spend my pocket money. I had no idea what I was looking for. I taped all the songs I wanted which were in the charts from the radio, (along with a few of my favourite time checks of course). There was a section of the shop that sold records and tapes for
£1 or less. I would immediately head to this part of the store and select a handful of records. I had no idea what was on the records, I would just choose randomly. I would then take them straight to the counter, without letting dad see, and buy them. The reason I didn't want dad to see was because I didn't want him to know what I'd got before I did. It had to be a total surprise.
I wouldn't know what the record was until it was playing. I loved the whole experience: sitting cross legged on my bedroom floor with a pile of records, taking the record out of the sleeve, putting it on the player and then dropping down the arm to reveal ... Rolf Harris, singing about Jake the Peg with his extra leg. I'd never heard that song or of Rolf Harris before that moment. I remember hearing it and instantly falling in love with it. It felt as if I'd had a kind of epiphany. One minute earlier, I was a stupid, naive ten year old boy. Then this happened. I was now truly a man. I loved that record: Rolf Harris's greatest hits. I thought Rolf Harris was a genius. The first track was Jake the Peg, and as Rolf Diddleiddlummed, I laughed loud and heartily all the way through the song. The second track was Two Little Boys. I remember being very moved by this song; I might have even cried. I was astounded by the brilliance of this man, whose name I didn't even know yet because I hadn't found out what was written on the record sleeve. One moment I had been laughing raucously to Jake the Peg, and then, a couple of minutes later, I was wiping the tears away as the sounds of Two Little Boys entered my ears for the first time and moved my soul. I'm sure you all remember where you were when you first heard Rolf Harris. I certainly do. It was a magical moment, one of many magical moments that my random record purchasing gave me. I wouldn't say I'm a massive Rolf Harris fan now, but at that moment, sitting on my bedroom floor at the record player, I was spellbound.

I mentioned in a
previous blog post
that I used to love listening to the radio at nights for the same kind of reason. I used to switch over to the shortwave band and start moving the dial to see what I would find. Shortwave is nothing like
FM; you don't know what you're going to get. There's about ten stations on FM and hundreds on shortwave. YOU rotate the dial on the FM band and you get the same old recognised stations, but rotating the dial when you're tuned to shortwave is a very different experience, a magical experience. The sound that the radio makes as its tuning is a sequence of beeps and crackles, as opposed to the fairly prosaic hiss of FM. You only have to touch the dial when you're on the shortwave band and that slight touch can tune you into a completely different station and into a completely different world. One moment you're listening to an enraged American evangelist damning you to hell unless you send him money, then you touch the dial ever so slightly and you're listening to a French radio drama with Lesbian sex scenes; then the sound of a Mongolian throat singer, belting out the popular Mongolian hits of the day. Again, it's the randomness of it all, the surprise element that I loved. I got that same feeling with my random record selections,
Although disappointingly I never managed to procure a record with a Lesbian sex drama on it.

I love the concept of DJing for the same reason: mixing different tracks into each other to create a musical collage. But I often get board of a lot of DJs because they generally play only a certain type of music: They're either a drum and bass DJ or a dance DJ or a Hip Hop DJ etc. Their DJ sets are usually designed for clubs, for people to dance to. This dictates the style of the DJ set. The tracks are often 4/4 and have a similar tempo. I want a DJ to create mixes that take on all genres and provide constant surprises for the listener. Notice I wrote listener, not clubber; I want a DJ set to be like hitting the shuffle button on a massive, diverse music library and playing the randomized selection as a continuing, structured mix. This brings me to the point of this blog post - we got their in the end.

David Eagle's Pick and Mix is a DJ set that features all types of music, embracing anything from any period of time. I'm putting the finishing touches to my first mix and I'll release it in just a few days. I'm slightly wary of this project because it's unlike anything I've released before, but it's an experiment I'm excited to try and I hope that we'll go on this musical adventure together. I'm not a professional DJ, but I wanted to really try and mix the songs together, rather than just segway from one song to another. This isn't just me playing my favourite records. I am not just picking and playing songs. O no. I am mixing them into a crazy, multifascited, all encompassing thirty minute mix. That's my plan anyway. Wish me luck! Standby!

Star Jumps in Y-fronts

2011-01-18T08:18:00.001Z

O well, I tried, but its back to the usual, standard, boring titles again I'm afraid; But at least I'm still blogging from the exciting locations, as I write once again from the x9 bus. I'D like to make a personal plea to Father Christmas: Can you please, next year, deliver pairs of ear phones to all the kids in the northeast of England? Please! there's a whole orchestra of kids with mobile phones blurring out generic dance music. The vehicle is awash with hi hat and bass drum - without the bass element because the phone speakers don't actually bother with bass. What's going on? I assume that what's going on is quite simply that a load of ignorant teenage tossers (Nice bit of alliteration there, I hope you appreciate the poetry) think it more than appropriate to play their music to the rest of the bus. But perhaps I'm doing these people a huge disservice. There could be a more enlightening explanation. FOR all I know, the experimental composer
John Cage
might have got on the bus a couple of stops earlier than me and initiated a group of teenagers to take part in one of his new masterpieces. Perhaps I am the odd one out here. Being blind, I could be totally oblivious to the scene around me:
john Cage, stood purposefully at the front of the bus, waving his arms, conducting his teenage entourage to choose a generic pop song stored on their phones, then start, stop, change tracks, turn volume up and down in accordance with Cage's arm movements. There could be a whole film crew recording the event for BBC 4, and in the background there'll see me - the odd one out - sitting there looking annoyed about it all, ruining the subtle nuances of Cage's experimental musical epic with my typing noises as I write this post. Then, after the piece has ended, John will walk up and down the bus, signing autographs for excited teenage fans who babble enthusiastically to John about the dubstep remix of
4'33" ...
But I doubt it.

So, There's a group of kids at the back of the bus, all with phones. One of them is playing some hip hop loudly, another one is joining in, trying to get some MCing he recorded himself doing earlier to fit to the beat of the other kid's music. Then there's another kid, using his phone to provide visuals. He's showing a video of him and his mates doing "wicked, ollies" and various other stunts on their skateboards.

My annoyance is heightened by the fact that I'm running late today, thanks to radio 4. My dad listens to The Today Program on Radio 4 in the mornings. I personally wouldn't choose to do this; I find it upsetting enough to have to get out of a nice warm bed each morning, without having to listen to half an hour of doom, death and destruction while I'm getting ready to leave the house to go to my job that The Today Program informs me I'm unlikely to have for much longer. But, Radio 4 is what's on around the house and so that's what I hear when I potter around. The redeeming feature of The Today Program however is that it does give frequent time checks. My particular favourite is "quarter past seven" as said by Sarah Montague: very arousing! I know I've gone on about how I hate radio that comprises mainly of time checks, weather and travel, but I was referring then to the commercial radio format. Radio 4 is different; their time checks are highbrow.
Normally, the time checks are a useful aid to me leaving the house on time - what an ingenious strategy: using the time checks to keep me running on time. Actually, its not really the time checks, its more the various items like the sport, Thought For the Day or a trail that helps me orientate how long I've got before I leave the house. Unfortunately, Radio 4 failed me today, as the Today Program seemed to be running behind schedule. The sport and the trail must have happened at a later time and I was probably pottering too loudly to hear the time checks. So I missed the bus, and now I'm late. I have no idea why Radio 4 was running behind schedule; I only switched on at 7. Anything could have happened. Perhaps Thought for the Day was hosted by a rabbi with a severe stutter problem, and the presenter - afraid to offend - didn't have the heart to cut across him.

I thought that seeing as I'm sitting here on the bus, just twiddling my thumbs - I better stop doing that actually because it's making it a great deal more difficult to type- - I'd write a post about a strange, coincidental scenario that happened to me a couple of nights ago. Its only a very short story, so I'm quite glad that I am running late and that the teenagers on the bus are so annoying because it's given me something extra to write about.

When your a high flying, high-profile role model like myself, it's important to maintain one's physical prowess, so I make sure I regularly exercise. On this night, I started off my exercise with some star jumps. My dad came into the room while I was star jumping and switched on the TV. He then made a sound of exclamation - I'll leave you to imagine what kind of sound that might be: a gasp, a shout, a sharp inhalation ... I don't have a specific memory about it; I hope that doesn't ruin your enjoyment of the story. The reason for this non-specific sound of exclamation was to do with the highly unlikely correlation between
me and the TV. Apparently, the picture that came on the television at that moment was of a man in y Fronts doing star jumps. I wasn't wearing y-fronts but I was doing star jumps. "What a coincidence", I'm sure that's what your all thinking. I'm not an expert in the field of probability and even if I was I doubt a credible answer could be given to indicate the probability of this situation happening. If there are any maths geniuses reading - perhaps taking a light, refreshing break from a calculus conundrum - maybe they'd like to investigate this question. I suppose you'd have to work out (on average) how many TV programs at that given time of day are likely to be showing men in y-fronts doing star jumps. Then you'd have to calculate the likelihood of people, oblivious to what is about to greet them on their televisions, while they partake in a spot of star jumping. in front of their televisions. Is there a famous film that has a man star jumping in y-fronts? Maybe I'm missing something obvious. There's all sorts of random TV channels on cable and sky nowadays, there's probably a station dedicated to men star jumping in y-fronts. Don't worry feminists, I'm sure they'll commission a similar service with star jumping women soon; its only a matter of time, surely. If any maths geniuses do get in touch, I'll be sure to upload their thesis on the subject to the blog, so watch this space.

Well, there you go. End of story. I'm not sure what the moral is. I'll leave you to decide that. Perhaps it's: "I should really stop wasting my time reading this blog".

Anyway, I'll be back very soon with the first episode in a new audio series: David Eagle's Pick and Mix! All will be revealed in my next blog post, coming soon!

Happy New Year!

2011-01-10T21:32:00.002Z

so then, here I am, back in 2011, with new, improved and even more original blog post titles. In addition to the innovative blog titles, you can also expect posts in 2011 to be written from a number of exciting locations, thanks to the fact that i now have a netbook as well as a portable writing device tailored for blind people which writes in Braille. In case you are a new comer to my blog (one of the newly converted - now that I’ve become the latest fashion -) i am blind; I’m not just some weirdo who likes to use blind technology because i get a strange kick out of it, although admittedly, Braille is rather arousing.

currently, the exciting location I am writing from is the x9 bus, travelling from Gateshead to billingham. But that's not the end of the adventure, o no. I will then be getting on the 36 bus at billingham and travelling to Hartlepool, where I live. In fact, it is very probable that the majority of my blog posts will be written from the x9 and the 36, so you'll definitely be wanting to save this site to your favourites list.

i am currently travelling to and from Gateshead five days a week, in fact, shockingly, i spend nearly 24 hours each week travelling on busses. Are you shocked? Thought so. A whole day a week travelling on busses. When i made the calculation, I was ... well ... shocked. I decided that i couldn't afford to waist all that time doing nothing and that i should really do something valuable with my time on the bus. So I’ll be writing lots of blog posts; what could be a more valuable use of my time than that? its a good job I don’t have comments enabled for this blog, isn't it? O yes, of course, you can't respond. But if you could comment then I know you would all be writing, begging me to enlighten you as to why I am spending such a large amount of my life on busses.

In addition to doing the odd bout of freelance work, i had been looking for other work, unrelated to broadcasting and production. Until a few months ago, my attempts to procure such employment had been fairly fruitless; I seemed to have an uncanny knack of ballsing up job interviews. I once got an interview for a job in Wales. For the benefit of any blind people reading this post with a screen reader, or for those people listening to the audio book version - there isn't one yet, but it's only a matter of time-- I'll point out that this is "Wales" the country, not "whales" the mammal. I wasn't applying to play the lead role in a crazy production of Jonah, alongside a director with a frighteningly overzealous passion for method acting. I wouldn't want you to be thinking that. I thought I better clarify that, in order to avoid being attacked by blind animal rights activists
(that's blind people who are animal rights activists, not animal rights activists who only feel duty bound to kick up a fuss about the treatment of bats, voles and suchlike). O, have I drifted off the point a bit?

Anyway, I attended a job interview in Wales. I was only in the room for less than a minute before I realised that my fate was already sealed. I didn't do anything wrong, apart from not being welsh. As i opened the door and stepped into the room, I was received by a woman who greeted me in welsh. I was slightly flummoxed by this but thought it appropriate to extend to her a greeting in the English tongue. Alas, she did not share my sentiments. She muttered something which sounded rather derogatory in what I assume to be Welsh - It might have been Klingon for all I know - and tutted.

Question 1: "You have been asked to arrange a meeting for some of our clients based in South East Wales. Ideally the area you choose would not be too populated, yet would be easily accessable by rail and bus. As our clients might be staying for the whole week, it would be wise to book somewhere that has a range of varying attractions and leisure opportunities. Can you tell me your top 3 choices, and why you've chosen them? o, and it should be a place that doesn't contain the letter y or l and yet is made up entirely of consonants. o and we want a place free from English scum, like you!"

I feel a bit ridiculous saying this, and I know its really embarrassing but: Welsh geography isn't my strongpoint, in fact I'm more or less clueless. There, I've said it! I gave an unnecessarily lengthy answer for what was essentially, "i don't have a flipping clue!" I was starting to get the niggling feeling that they might prefer someone Welsh.

question 2: "Spell the railway station Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, then recite it backwards to the tune of the Welsh national anthem".

i've exaggerated ever so slightly for comic effect. (I hope it worked) but it was starkly apparent that they wanted someone welsh. She treated me with such distain; It was as if I'd defecated on a statue of SHIRLEY Bassey, Charlotte Church, Thom/Aled Jones, or one of her favourite and most revered Welsh icons. I didn't get the job by the way.

So here I am, on the x9 bus, travelling back home from Gateshead after a day's work. I may at some point expand on the full-time job I'm currently doing. At the moment I won't go into the details about where I work and what i do, largely because you probably won't find it interesting - although that's never stopped me before - and because I like the idea that I'm leading a double life. I feel all mysterious and enigmatic leading this double life which has been aided by the work's IT coordinator - clearly unaware of The Young'uns Podcast, the Southside Podcast, Davideagle.co.uk etc - registering me in the computer system as "Davis Eagles". This means my email address is "Davis Eagles ...". I am also in the work's phone directory as Davis Eagles, and if anyone external to work calls the main switchboard and asks for David Eagle, there's a pause and then the caller is informed that no one of that name works here, although there is someone under the name of "Davis Eagles". THIS error occurred on my first day. I notified the person responsible about it, but they didn't seem to deem it important to reinstate me on the system with the correct name. So in the end, I gave up, and now everyone at work knows me as Davis Eagles. So i spend a third of my life travelling on public transport and a quarter of it existing under a different identity. I'm going mad. SOMETIMES, in a certain situation taking place outside of work, i might stop and think: "now, what would Davis Eagles do if he was here"; Well he wouldn't be writing this drivel., that's for sure

I've got a lot of exciting plans for this year. The big news is that the Young'uns podcast is set to make a return. The other big news is: so is the Southside Podcast! (no, only joking Alex.)
I'm also working on something completely different to what I've released on here before, but I think it will be a really fun project for this year. I intend to release the first episode in this new series next week, so all shall be revealed very soon. And now, having hopefully managed to stir at least a modicum of intrigue and excitement within you, I say goodbye.

The Young'uns Podcast Archive

2011-01-08T15:56:00.020Z

Here is the complete archive for 'The Young'uns Podcast' including the most recent podcast.

The Young'uns Podcast 107 (Better than Fish Fingers?)

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Click here to listen>
Click here to download from the archive site (this is a perminent link).

The Young'uns and friends gather round a piano to perform some interesting pop songs. We return to Holland to bring you more observations regarding Dutch culture, including the musical tastes of Dutch chavs, the toilet habits of Dutch men and some information about Dutch law. There's the obligatory report from an Indian restaurant as we sample our most adventurous dish yet. What's Martin Carthy's favourite TV programme, we have exclusive news about the exciting new addition to the Imagined Village, and could folk music be the new cricket? Our featured folk group is the Tea Cups (the artists formerly known as the Dirty Tea cups); two songs and an interview with them. There's also music from the Spooky Men's Chorale and the Young'uns are joined by Jackie Oates, Ruth Notman and Joan Crump for a Peter Bellamy shanty.

The Young'uns Podcast: 106 (the Itch of the Golden Nit)

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The Itch of the Golden Nit is a film
produced by
Aardman Animations
(the people behind
Wallace & Gromit)
and is the creation of thousands of UK-based children. The children chose the celebrities that they wanted to feature in the film.
David Walliams,
Catherine Tate
and
Miranda Hart
are just some of the big names starring in the film. But perhaps most tellingly - indicating that this future generation is clearly going to be a much more enlightened lot - the Young'uns were also asked to appear. Of course it was the children who chose us; not some ignorant researcher who assumed that The Young'uns (based purely on the name) were a folk group consisting of children, only to find out the truth a bit too late once we'd signed the contract.

Some people in the folk world may accuse the Young'uns of selling out, ditching mining songs and ballads about ship wrecks for the more commercially viable (and much more lucrative) film soundtrack work. This is of course complete nonsense. How could we have said no to those children? They would be heart broken if their number one celebrity choices snubbed them. Such a disappointment could destroy a whole generation, and could be the root source of future criminality and warfare. So we accepted - for the kids you understand, and for the stability of our planet - and did the song on the film.

For those people who are still not convinced and are crying "sell outs", take heart in the knowledge that the money we generated from the project went to good causes that folkies in this country will wholeheartedly support: the majority went straight into the real ale industry, namely the real ale tents at folk festivals - and we were happy to hand this money over in person whilst maybe having a couple of samples of each real ale, just to make sure that we were definitely giving to a good cause. The rest of the money went to
Seth Lakeman;
and you can't say that's not a good cause.

The song that we sang for this film was about smelly pirates with hairy knees, and we were singing alongside
Vick Reeves
who played the pirate. You can hear anecdotes about our filming experience, plus the song itself. We also speak to the film's musical composer,
John Brown
who worked with children all over the country to create the songs. Jim Molyneux from the folk group
4Square
played the drums on the smelly pirate song. We'll be talking to him about the film and about his group 4Square. We also have music from 4Square and another live performance from the Young'uns.

Plus: What do female Morris dancers get up to in toilets?; a live musical performance from a choir who we happened upon in a takeaway; The Young'uns have a new idea for a cover song to add to their set (see what you think), and there's another report from an Indian restaurant.

The Young'uns Podcast: 105
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Click here to listen now.

This week's Young'uns podcast is a bit of a rollercoaster. In the emotional sense: as the podcast will inevitably have a big build up, only to come suddenly crashing down, leaving you feeling a bit sick and sore. But in addition to that allegorical rollercoaster, we feature an actual rollercoaster on the podcast (so I hope you appreciate the brilliance of that opening sentence; It works on so many levels - a bit like a rollercoaster really.)
Good news Mr. Harding; the audio treats continue. Following on from the roaring - or rumbling - success of the stomach noises item, we take things to their logical conclusion and move on to snoring.
Michael Hughes makes a urinal based observation.
Our special folky guest is
Gavin Davenport.
We'll be finding out what makes him tick - although we won't be bringing you the audio of that ticking on this week's podcast (maybe next time). and We'll also hear a couple of songs from him.
The Young'uns are joined at the Gate to Southwell festival by Doctor Who and the Daleks.
It's an unwritten rule (although that's about to change because I'm about to write it) that the Young'uns must have at least one Indian meal at every festival or gig they do. This week is no exception, and so we bring you the first in a series of reports from an Indian restaurant.
So I hope that all that curries favour with you (and yes that was a deliberate pun).

The Young'uns Podcast 104: Feet, fish, flirting, philosophy, fricatives and folk.

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The new summer series of the Young'uns podcast is here:

This week, we speak to Michael Hughes as he gets his feet eaten by fish; Mike shamelessly flirts with a woman cooking bacon just to get an extra rasher; we attempt an interview with a none-moving statue; are the Young'uns gay? We reveal all - possibly to each other. Plus: an escaping infirm cat, stomach noises and top tips for perverts. "But what about the folk?" (Well, if you insist.) There's also recorded material taken from the Young'uns at Hardraw, Liverpool and Peterborough.

The Young’uns Podcast: 103 (Hartlepool Tall Ships Festival 2010)

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Description: In 2010, The Young'uns' Sean Cooney committed a terrible act that we really can't talk about. His sentence was to organise a folk event as part of Hartlepool's tall ships festival alongside Hartlepool borough Council with oodles of red tape and risk assessment forms. Sean took this great responsibility like a man and did Hartlepool and the folk community proud, hosting an incredible event with an amazing list of performers. This Young'uns Podcast aims to capture the joys of the festival through recorded performances, interviews and various random happenings that took place over the festival.

There's music from Polish Shanty group
Brasy,
world folk from
Sheelanagig,
Mrs Trevor's Deep Freeze Secrets,
the Askew Sisters,
Paul martin and Ian Mckoen. Plus there's world-class kazoo playing from a children's marching band; find out what folk musicians get up to late at night; we expose the folk group that have launched an attack on the blind; Michael Hughes dices with the law; The Young'uns get involved in some interesting collaborations, and of course there's the obligatory smattering of puns. I could go on, but what's the point when you can find out for yourself.

The Young’uns Podcast: 102 (Hild’s Tales)

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Description: The Young'uns have been involved in a number of educational projects, teaching children about the history of Hartlepool and working with the children to create songs about what they have learned. We also take the children to visit old people's homes and local churches to meet with Hartlepool's older residents. The children ask questions about how their home town used to be and what has changed. This podcast features music, poetry and drama from Hartlepool primary school children, plus oral history from Hartlepool's older residents.

The Young'uns Podcast: 101

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You can follow The Young'uns adventures in Holland in this documentary, which features recordings from 2008/2009âs festivals. There are live sea shanties, random interviews with Dutch people, comprehensive Dutch language training courtesy of The Young'uns language school, plus we venture into the Dutch ghetto to experience Dutch gangster rap.

The young'uns Podcast 100:

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All good things must come to an end, But even those things that aren't particularly good (including ridiculous, obsured Podcasts) must come to an end. And so, as the Young'uns Podcast reaches it's 100th episode, it's time to say goodbye. But it would be a bit of a disappointing and pointless podcast if we just said goodbye - it would hardly be worth plugging in the microphone for just one word - and so we lengthen the procedure out a bit by speaking with some of the people who have helped make the podcast what it is! (yes, I'm sharing the blame.)
So it's farewell to Big Nige, adieu to Trevor Lister, auf wiedersehen
to Trevor Bond, au revoir to Brian Luffbrough, sayonara to Martin Nesbitt, ciao to Irene Archer, adios to Sean Cooney and...er, er...Tot ziens to Michael Hughes (thank god for google translator). We also take a journey through the Young'uns Podcast archive, playing snippets from each episode. It'll be a highly emotional affair. But try and control your excitement, there's still over an hour's worth of Young'uns Podcast nonsense still left to endure.

The Young'uns Podcast: 99 (Hartlepool Maritime Festival 2008)

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The Young'uns Podcast:: 98:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 97:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 96:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 95:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 94:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 93

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The Young'uns Podcast: 92:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 91

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The Young'uns Podcast: 90

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The Young'uns Podcast: 89

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The Young'uns Podcast: 88

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The Young'uns Podcast: 87

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The Young'uns Podcast: 86

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The Young'uns Podcast: 85

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The Young'uns Podcast: 84

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The Young'uns Podcast: 83

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The Young'uns Podcast: 82

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The Young'uns Podcast: 81

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The Young'uns Podcast: 80

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The Young'uns Podcast: 79

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The Young'uns Podcast 78:

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The Young'uns Podcast: 77

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The Young'uns Podcast: 76

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The Young'uns Podcast: 75

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The Young'uns Podcast: 74

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The Young'uns Podcast: 73

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The young'uns Podcast: 72

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The Young'uns Podcast: 71

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The Young'uns Podcast: 70 (Christmas 2007)

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The Young'uns Podcast: 69

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The Young'uns Podcast: 68

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The Young'uns Podcast: 67

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The Young'uns Podcast: 66

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The Young'uns Podcast: 65

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The Young'uns Podcast: 64

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The Young'uns Podcast: 63

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The Young'uns Podcast: 62

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The Young'uns Podcast: 61

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The Young'uns Podcast: 60

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The Young'uns Podcast: 59

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The Young'uns podcast: 58

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The Young'uns Podcast: 57

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The Young'uns Podcast: 56

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The Young'uns Podcast: 55

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The Young'uns Podcast: 54

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The Young'uns podcast: 53

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The Young'uns Podcast: 52

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The Young'uns Podcast: 51

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Click here for The Young'uns Podcast, episodes 1 to 50

The Southside Podcast Page

2010-10-05T00:51:00.006+01:00

Here is the complete archive for the Southside Podcast as presented by David Eagle.

Podcast 102:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download.

This week, Southside bring you a location report from the ""London boat show. Leisure and Marine PR person ""Peta Stuart-hunt along with actress Sarah Huntley hear emotional tails of perilous sailing exploits, and discover the joys of ""microdiving. ""C. R. Lindemer explains all about her book 'True Cow Tales' featuring stories from and about farmers, ranchers and dairy princesses. And the deputy director general of the ""BBC, Mark Byford, evaluates the relationship between the BBC and community...

Podcast 101:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download

"This week,
""Rosemary Conley
tells us about her new fitness DVD and makes an announcement about her career. Leisure and marine PR person
""Peta Stuart-Hunt
talks about how both the weather and the economy have affected the leisure and marine industry,, and gives mention to the recent news story about the paraplegic yachtsman who sailed the Atlantic Ocean. One of our top sport correspondents, Jane Clarke, has worked as curator of the Aintree museum for thirty years. She shares with us some horse racing facts, and talks about some of the horse racing memorabilia she has collected for the museum. And, have you suffered an ice or snow related accident that wasn't your fault? You could have a claim, or could you? Charles Atha and Martin Demoily from
""Atha and Co solicitors,
explain how the weather conditions can affect compensation claims.

Plus, presenter
"David Eagle
devises a new, quality game show for 2010, and takes on the persona of a magician.

It's the new and improved 'Southside Podcast', back for 2010."

Podcast 100 (Christmas 2009):

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download.

The Southside Podcast returns with a rather festive feel - which is fortunate as it's Christmas. Guests include top-class newsreader Angela Rippon, Rupert Adams from 'William Hill The Buckeyes', award winning television director Graeme Harper, and The Nolans. Plus: Christmas chemistry carrels; sing along to the classic carol 'Away In A Spectrometer', and traditional Christmas singing courtesy of the Stockton folk club, and there's jingle bells as sang by a five-year-old child who gives us her interpretation of Christmas.

Podcast 99:

""Click here to listen
""Cock here to download

Have you ever wondered about what a Lama might write in a blog? No, of course you haven’t but anyway … This week comedy writer dean Wilkinson introduces us to the Lamadali, as well as discussing the subject of children’s literature.
Science Fiction writers Alan Stevens and Fiona Moore talk about the science Fiction drama ‘Faction Paradox’.
Actor Trevor Cooper shares some acting anecdotes and reminisces about working on Doctor who.
Plus, find out all about a couple of lesser-known sexual orientations, and take part in our new, exciting competition, ‘Where Am I Scratching?’ And which science fiction monster or alien would you most like to enter into a physical relationship with?
O, and what are the two fastest fish in the ocean?
Find out by Podding ON™ to the 99th Southside Podcast.
Warning, this week’s Southside Podcast contains material that certain listeners may find unnerving, such as the sounds of unidentified monsters tearing human beings apart. Well what did you expect?

Podcast 98:

""Clck here to listen
""click here to download

Ever wondered what is meant by a 'Systems Management Engineer'? No? Well never mind, you'll find out on this week's Southside Podcast as we speak to 'Systems Management Engineer' Ken Evans, who attempts to explain how he could save businesses millions of pounds, but then gets a bit sidetracked talking about aquatic life and 17th century philosophers. Ken also tries to teach renowned actor
Shane Rimmer
a thing or two about business, while performing a hilarious comedy double act routine alongside
comedian Charlie Ross.
Journalist John Pilger
talks about how the media can shape the political agenda
and public opinion. All this, plus lude insinuations, and a complimentary text message when you
download the 98th Southside Podcast.

Podcast 97:

""Click to listen
""click here to download

This week:
Find out why people are protesting in the streets of London, harassing government ministers and celebrities all in the name of ice cream, plus, the delights of viagra ice cream.
''Sir Patrick Moore
tells us all about his cat.
We speak with award winning television director Graeme Harper who has recently won another award for his work on Doctor Who.
And Psychic and clairsentient
''James Vanpraagh
talks about communicating with the dead.
Plus presenter David Eagle takes us way back in time, to 1900 BC, for the world's oldest standup comedy gig.

Podcast 96:

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This week, we take a look at the delights of
âFilmstarâ,
a new magazine. We find out about '500 Days of Summer' - a new romantic comedy - and "the Movie that will change your life, forever!"
The Nolan Sisters talk about their new tour and their new album, as does singer songwriter
Tallulah Rendall,
who teams up with the Nolan's in a unique collaborative effort which is exclusive to the 'Southside Podcast'.
Award winning crime author
Martin Edwards
talks to us about his work, and the crime fiction genre.
And science fiction author and critic Alan Stevens enlightens us with how he listens to the 'Southside Podcast'.
Plus, computer tips, Japanese sleve notes, incest and drinking games courtesy of David Eagle.

Podcast 95:

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"It's a highly emotionally charged podcast this week, as presenter David Eagle grapples with relationship problems.
Etiquette expert
Liz Brewer
talks about the success of her reality TV show 'Laddette to Lady', which is much better than the reality TV show 'Coachtrip' which gets a right-royal-rollicking.
Professor John Sutherland talks about the coolest heroes and iciest heroines in literature, based on research commissioned by an ice-lollies and smoothies company.
And "warm, rich and versatile" actor Philip Hurdwood talks about 'The Archers', adverts, and ethical and moral issues pertaining to acting,
Plus drunken, homeless continuity announcers, and do you ever wish you could fully express your love towards Southside's Station Manager? Of course you do, and now there's a way. All shall be revealed.
So pod on to the 95th Southside Podcast, but just be careful if you're a pilot, ok?"

Podcast 94:

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This week,
psychic Tony Stockwell
on talking to the dead,
New York correspondent
Peter Franklin
on drunken lifeguards.
Find out why young and middle-aged people in Britain should be quaking in their boots - or respective footwear.
And we've an interview with a rather confused railway enthusiast, who's not quite sure of his name or what train he's on.
Plus, presenter David Eagle shows off his rapping skills, and there's a chance to play along with our exciting, new, and probably one-off feature 'Guess the song lyric', in which you have to try and guess the song from a lyric. How do we come up with these ideas?
There's a unique travelogue on the delights of Germany, covering all the essentials, such as sausage, beer, crazed taxi drivers and how the Germans seem to cope with blindness. So pod on Perl & Dean style to the 94th 'Southside Podcast', which could never be said to be anything like a pikestaff. O no! So don't even think about saying such a thing, all right?

Podcast 93:

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It's 40 years since the first moon landing, and to commemorate this we feature a discussion with Sir Patrick Moore, who tells us what his favorite cake is. O yes, and he talks about the first moon landing a little too.
And from that we move to a moon walker of a different kind. Michael Jackson's death remains a primary focus point in the media, and this week, award winning concert pianist Lucy Parham talks about the dangers of being in the media spotlight, and the problems of being branded a genius, referring to classical composers such as Mozart. Plus she warns of the perils of performing outdoor music festivals.
Singer songwriter Tallulah Rendall seems to have been spending her time recently running around in woodland pretending to be a nymph. Come on! weâve all been there. Tallulah explains all.
And with all that craziness going on, we try to calm things down a bit with best selling author and life coach Lynn Serafinn who focuses our attention on the spiritual, and talks about 'the garden of the soul'.
So 'Pod On' batman style to the 93rd Southside Podcast.

Podcast 92:

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Celebrity stand-up comedian, actor and Voice Over
Marty Ingels offers a unique and perhaps controversial perspective on the death of Michael Jackson. Marty lives with his wife, the infamous actress and singer
Shirley Jones in the same street as the Jackson family. You can hear both Marty Ingells and Shirley Jones, with some momentous Shirley Jones news by listening to
This weekâs âSouthside Podcastâ. Retired actor, director and drama coach Jack Lin extols the work of
John Barrowman and tells us what it was like to be the drama coach for
Anthony Hopkins. He also has a bit of a rant about reality shows such as âBritainâs got talentâ. And the acting theme continues on the podcast this week as in the studio we have actor and horse racing commentator
Malcolm Tomlinson. Malcolm currently plays the school principal in
'Hollyoaks'. His daughter
Eleanor Tomlinson is also an actor and has been described as the next
keira-knightley. We donât just talk to actors though, o no. We speak to celebrity wedding planner
Siobhan Craven-Robins and find out about a
new reality TV show on âUK Livingâ called âFour weddingsâ. The concept sounds hideous. Basically itâs like
'Come Dine with Me' but instead of judging four different peopleâs meals, they judge each othersâ weddings. Is nothing sacred? Also we speak with science fiction authors and critics
Alan Stevens and Fiona Moore about the recent âtorchwoodâ television series and other SF stuff.

Podcast 91:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download.

This week Southside sample the best in antipodean culture courtesy of 'Toast Festival', featuring Polynesian dancing and authentic New Zeeland cuisine. We talk to tree sculptors and jousting lady knights at 2009âs Lincolnshire Show. We visit Middlesbrough's first-ever literary festival and speak with author marina Fiorato. And itâs the last-ever Royal Show after 170 years of existence; The Royal Show's manager Simon Frere-Cook explains the reason for itâs end, celebrates it's history and looks ahead to the future working with the Royal agricultural Society.

Plus, what did one font say to the other font?.. Find out on this week's Southside Podcast, as we 'Pod On; with the sounds of 'Last of the Summer Wine', guillotines and exploding bodies.

Podcast 90:

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""Click here to download.

“What do you get if you cross Groove Armada with the Nolan Sisters? Find out by listening to this week’s Southside Podcast. Groove Armada’s Tom Findlay explains the joys of ‘Lovebox’ – the affordable music festival. The Nolans are back, touring the UK. In fact it has been rumoured that the main reason for the Nolans reforming and going back on tour was just so they could get on the southside Podcast. Well, their dream has come true as this week we feature an interview with the Nolans. Award winning film director and animator Ed Hartwell talks to us about his short SCI-FI film ‘The Day The Robots Woke Up’ and about the complexities of animation. There’s a short yet surreal interview with Rosie Langhorn (formerly Rosie Hetherington from the dance troop Legs & Co). Southside regular Felicity Hardingham from ‘Golden Goose PR’ talks about ‘Toast Fest’. Find out more by listening to this week’s podcast, plus there’s a chance to enter our competition to win a family ticket to 2009’s ‘Great Yorkshire show’. And, for the first time ever, Southside go in the mix with DJ David eagle! wigidy wack! Booya! Brapp! Jiga Jiga! And all that jazz. So pod on ™ Pink Panther style to the 90th Southside Podcast, complete with frequent interruptions from call centre staff and family members.”

Podcast 89:

""Click here to listen
""click here to download.

“Following on from last week’s conversation on data protection law, this week we look at disability and employment law with Solicitor Claire Dawson. Continuing our ongoing commitment to bringing you the best in literature, we feature two journalists and authors. Christine Field house’s autobiography ‘Why do Monsters come out at Night’ is an emotional rollercoaster of a book, charting her present life as a mother, journalist and author contrasted with her childhood, living with her alcoholic father. Mark Robberts is a journalist and award winning writer. He talks to us about his work including the many television programs he has written for, his new romantic thriller and shares some insights and anecdotes about working as a writer and as a journalist, serving under the infamous Robert Maxwell.

Plus, presenter David Eagle resurrects, in astonishingly vivid detail, the character who used to haunt Southside Station Manager Alexius Lewczuk’s night’s as a child. Hear how David manages to nearly wreck his whole broadcasting career in just the space of five seconds. There’s a chance to play ‘Guess the accent’ as we listen to a narrator attempting (in vain) to assimilate character accents, and it’s the return of the ‘Mm Game’. All this and more when you “Pod On” this week, in the company of the Adams Family.”

Podcast 88:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download

“This week: Data protection law, icecream and PR. Last week was national icecream week and to celebrate, Southside spoke to Mr icecream Matt O'Connor about some of the stranger types of icecream on the market and revealed some unusual, icecream related statistics. There’s also a special, exclusive to the Southside Podcast, icecream joke. How do icecream men move? Find out by listening to this week’s podcast. The icecream theme continues with Taylor Herring PR who are responsible for flying Italian opera singer Marcello Bedoni from Italy to a field in England to perform for a herd of cows all in the name of icecream. We find out why and hear about some of the crazy stunts that PR companies have devised to promote their projects, including sailing an iceberg down the Thames and landing a spaceship in Lester Square. There’s no mention of icecream in our discussion with solicitor Susan Singleton about data protection law, although given enough time and money I’m sure we’d be able to manufacture some kind of semi-plausible link. Take heed radio presenters one and all as podcast presenter David Eagle provides some ideas for revolutionary radio features as well as helping out a fellow colleague devise the perfect promo. So “pod on” (Ludwig van Beethoven style) to the 88th Southside Podcast.”

Podcast 87:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download

This week, the theme is literature. We speak with three authors; historian Max Arthur about the British Dambuster operation of World War II. We discuss John
Boyne’s World War II novel ‘the Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’ with the author himself along with his new book ‘the House of Special Purpose’. Author, athlete
and model Amy Bohan talks about her autobiographical book ‘Take a Girl like Me’. As well as discussions with these three authors, there’s audio extracts
from the respective books.”

Podcast 86:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download

“This week, as we “pod on” ‘Pink Panther’ style, there’s a location report from the Harrogate Spring Flower Show which boasts the finest in horticultural comedy. We feature an interview with “Rat Man”, a Pest Control Officer who gives us an insight into his multi-faceted job. Two months ago, Claudia Lawrence, a chef from York, went missing. We hear from Martin Dales, a friend and spokesman for the Lawrence family. All that and more on this week’s Southside Podcast.”

Podcast 85:

""Click here to listen
""Click here to download.

This week’s podcast is garbage man! That’s a hilarious joke reference to the fact that we’ve got an interview with author Joseph D'Lacey about his highly acclaimed horror novel ‘Garbage Man’. The podcast is in fact far from garbage, for as well as Joseph D'Lacey, we hear from science fiction writer Alan Stevens with some advice about writing radio drama. Anti-wind-farm protester Jane Davis gives us her perspective on wind-farms and reveals some shocking revelations about their potential dangers that are not so well-known to the general public. Plus, presenter David Eagle revisits his quest to become the world’s greatest actor while taking on an all-new challenge. All shall be revealed when you “pod on” to the 85th Southside Podcast. POD ON!

Podcast 84:

""Click to listen.
""Click here to download.

“Welcome to the eco friendly Southside Podcast as we speak about alternative transportation, sustainable energy and renewable sources with Heather Parry from Fodder - the pioneering environmentally friendly eatery. Our New York correspondent Peter Franklin (gabby.com) talks to us from a transatlantic toilet about gun crime, clowns and Luton Town football Club. Sir Patrick Moore gives some advice for novice star gazers. Actress and fashion guru fiona curzon (fionacurzoncollections.co.uk) recounts an ongoing saga about her attempts to join a London based hospital radio station to no avail. Plus David eagle explains why he is viewed as a hero among the taxi driving fraternity and attempts to sell his talents to BBC Radio 4. And there’s more! Pod on to be enlightened.”

Podcast 83:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 82:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 81:

""Listen.
""Download.

Featuring veteran actresses, harp therapy, broken microphones, teacakes, Chocolate Moose, big boobs and raping cocks.

Podcast 80:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 79:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 77:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 76:

""CListen.
""Download

Podcast 75:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 74:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 73:

""Listen.
""Download.

A tribute to David Vine.

Podcast 72:

""Listen
""Download.

Podcast 71:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 70:

""Listen.

""Download.

Podcast 69:

""Listen
""Download.

Podcast 68:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 67:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 66:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 65:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 64:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 63:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 62:
""Listen.
""Download

Podcast 61:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 60:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 59:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 85:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 57:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 56:

""Listen
""Download.

Podcast 55:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 54

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 53:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 52:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 51:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 50:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 49:

""Listen.
""download.

Podcast 48

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 47:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 46:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 45:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 44:

""Listen.
""Download."

Podcast43:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 42:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 41:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 40:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 39:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 38:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 37:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 36:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 35:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 34:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 33:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 32:

""Listen.
""Download.

David Eagle presents from a speeding quadbike

Podcast 31:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 30:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 29:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 28:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 27:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 26:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 25:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 24:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 23:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 22:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 21:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 20:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 19:

""Listen.
""Download

Podcast 18:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 17:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 16:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 15:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 14:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 13:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 12:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 11:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 10:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 9:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 8:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 7:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 6:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 5:

""Listen.
""Download

Podcast 4:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 3:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 2:

""Listen.
""Download.

Podcast 1:

""Listen.
""Download.

---

Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians!

2010-09-29T00:08:00.003+01:00

There are two reasons for writing this blog post. The first reason is just to inform you that
""The Young'uns'
latest album, 'Man I Feel Like a Young'un' is not only available to buy in CD form via our
""online shop
but is now also available to download and stream from various digital music sights like
""ITunes,
""Napster
and
""Spotify.

If you click on any of those above links, it will take you to the album page for that corresponding sight. You can even listen to the album for free if you click the Spotify link.

So that's the first thing taken care of. But that's by no means the main, important reason I'm writing this post. O no. As the title of this post suggests, the main purpose for writing is to update you on matters regarding "Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians". Currently at the time of writing
""my last blog post
ranks sixth in the Google search results for "sir Patrick Moore Lesbians". This will not do! I want to be number one. I'm up for a fight. I won't be taken lying down - which just so happens to be the opening line from my aforementioned erotic fantasy novel about Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians, 'The Thighs at Night'. I can't say much more on the book at the moment, but it's all very exciting.

I'll keep you abreast. ... Ooo, that's another line from the book.

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Right! That's got to do the trick. That's got to get me to number one for the search "Sir Patrick Moore lesbians" surely!

P.P.S. Being blind, I have a screenreader to read back what I've written. The sound of the speech synthesiser repeatedly saying "Sir Patrick Moore lesbians" is both hypnotic and strangely erotic, and I like it! Perhaps I'll put some music over the top of it and release it as a download. I'll send you the Napster, ITunes and spotify links when it's released.

A Very Lengthy Blog Post All About Me: (The genuinly final part, with added lengthiness, just for you!)

2010-08-31T21:17:00.001+01:00

So then, this is the first paragraph. As mentioned in previous blog posts, the first paragraph is normally superfluous and serves as a way of helping me get into the flow of writing. There are probably a number of regular readers (ever the optimist) who simply skip the opening paragraph and get straight to my flow; and what a flow it will be. But for now, this is the first paragraph and I'm still revving up to that moment. But that's OK. What's the rush? We'll get there. In fact, I can feel the flow coming. To be honest it's quite a disconcerting feeling and it's one of the primary reasons why I'm such an infrequent blogger. OK, brace yourselves, it's flow time!

It was just over three weeks ago when I first attempted to tell you the reason why I left
""Southside,
but then I got a little sidetracked and started rambling about lesbians and
""Sir Patrick Moore.
(not that the two subjects were connected to each other in any way. Although I suppose since I've now mentioned Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians in the same sentence, this blog post is likely to come up in the top ten results for anyone doing an Internet search for "Sir Patrick Moore, lesbians, which is something I'm rather proud about. If you have found this blog post by searching for "Sir Patrick Moore, lesbians" then I'd like to say Hello to you, you strange creature, but I'm sorry, I don't think this blog post will really satisfy your perverse needs. If I do find that there is a demand for it however, I might compose some erotic literature involving Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians, and upload it to this blog for you. But in the meantime, I'll tell you why I left Southside. Feel free to stay though. Wow! I might have stumbled on a new career as a niche erotic author, writing about sir Patrick Moore and Lesbians. I'm getting quite excited about the prospect. I'm going to race through writing this blog post and then get straight to work.)

At the end of
""my last blog post,
I was working for Southside, and things were going pretty well. I had helped them increase their transmission range quite considerably, from a couple of beds in a hospital to the entire world via the Internet. Not a bad start. I'd also started producing adverts for the station, promoting various businesses which made the station a bit of money. again, not bad going. I then began presenting the Southside Podcast and was getting quite a lot of good feedback for it. Things were going well. I didn't have to play generic pop music. I didn't have to mention the weather or traffic/travel, or give constant time-checks. We featured interviews with fascinating people, reported from a wide range of exciting events and locations, and I was allowed to say and produce stuff that I thought was funny, and most of the time my humour and style was corroborated by our audience and Alex, the station manager. There were times when Alex would suggest that I maybe shouldn't have said a certain thing or done a certain feature, but then this was usually when I'd get an email or a comment from someone saying that they especially enjoyed that very same thing; and of course, I would always heed the person telling me how good it was and inexorably do more of the same the next week. I generally got away with it though. People enjoyed it, and the podcasts sounded really good and fun. I respected Alex's view when he would comment that I maybe went over-the-top or said or did something he didn't think was funny or of any value, but I took it with a pinch of salt. This wasn't because I was arrogant, but because I knew the type of media he liked and the type he really didn't like. he didn't particularly rate
""Chris Moyles
or
""Jonathon Ross,
who I had a lot of time for.
He hated
""Russel brand's radio shows,
whereas I personally thought they were refreshingly anarchic, exciting and
unique in a world were broadcasting was starting to become more distilled and homogenised. So I didn't really get upset or dissuaded by his negative comments because I knew that he wasn't going to like some of the things I did and said because of his individual taste. But it generally wasn't an issue. I tended to get away with it, plus I got enough positive feedback to quell any fears that Alex’s opinion conformed to the opinion of our audience. And I got away with it for 86 weeks and 86 podcasts, and then someone complained. I made reference to it in
""this blog post
but I didn't mention the issue in any detail. I was told to remove the podcast and resubmit it with the offending item omitted. Since I'm not working for southside anymore, I have no reservations about showing you what the offending item was. So, if you're willing to risk being offended
""click here.

Of course, this gave Alex ample opportunity to bring up all the other things he didn't like about my presentation style. I could sense the storm clouds looming. Things were never the same again. I was getting some really good feedback from listeners. In fact, people were commenting that the podcasts were getting better and better, but it seemed as if every single podcast I did from then on would be followed by more criticism from Alex. I played my
""Leona Lewis Parody
on a podcast, and I got a phone call from Alex, telling me that there is no room for such content on the podcasts, and that it wasn't at all funny and that I should leave the parodies to Chris Moyles and his ilk! Alex used to have a habit of ringing very early in the mornings. Often I was just getting up or was still in bed when he'd phone, and so his increasingly frequent negative phone critiques were becoming my regular alarm calls. I remember this particular morning call distinctly because I'd just woken up and I had a long, stressful day ahead of me, full of things that I really didn't want to do. I had just managed to motivate myself to get out of bed and face the day when I got Alex's call telling me how rubbish I was. he obviously didn't say those exact words, but that was generally the vibe I got from the calls. He tended not to address his views against me as an opinion but as an obvious fact that I really should have known myself. So when he told me that my material was rubbish, a part of me started to believe it as fact. He would almost suggest that I should be able to regulate myself, and automatically know that what I was creating was pointless and unfunny. I didn't personally see that this was possible, since the material that he tended to hate was the kind of material I and others liked. But these frequent criticisms were really starting to grind me down. I would sometimes dread checking my emails in case he would have sent me a written version of his thoughts, so that I could keep it and read it if I ever dared to get a little positive about myself. The day after this particular phone call, I was tentatively checking my emails and saw a message from an address I didn't recognise. The message was titled 'The Latest Southside Podcast and the Leona Lewis Parody!" I sat there for a few minutes, bracing myself for the negativity that was about to greet me. "I'll read this email which will confirm my ineptitude and then I'll resign from Southside and forget this radio presenting nonsense forever" I thought. I mentally prepared myself for the abuse and then opened the email.

"Can I have a signed copy of Bleating Love as sung by yourself... it was great, it really made me laugh. I nearly crashed the car, I was laughing so much."

(You might think it's a bit sad that I've got all this saved on my computer, but I want to assure you that this is not the case and that I found the email by doing a search for it in GMail. Glad I cleared that up.) So, it wasn't a negative comment after all. Instead of resigning from Southside, I became more defiant. Alex's opinion was just that - his own individual opinion - and I would no longer take his point of view as fact, no matter how he tried to put it across to me.

On the 90th Southside Podcast we had an interview with
""Groove Armada
and
""The Nolans.
Alex made a comment to groove Armada that they should collaborate with the Nolans. Obviously their styles of music are rather divergent. A jocular response was given to this suggestion from groove Armada. I decided therefore to try and persuade Groove Armada to take Alex's suggestion seriously and enthuse their imaginations about how such a collaboration might sound by creating a
""mix which blended the two groups together.

When I played this out at the end of the 90th podcast, I got a morning phone call from Alex telling me that the mix didn't work, and that it wasn't really necessary. I tried to ignore this assessment and to keep believing in myself and my judgement. Sure enough, I got an email from someone, saying how much they liked the mix. So I got more defiant. I would keep going, and do what I wanted, and what I believed in.

Then there was the 98th Southside Podcast. I'm sure you all remember it word for word, but just in case you don't, there was an interview with a man who called himself a "Systems Management Engineer". (Don't ask). he was going on about how he hated people who used confusing language, lengthy complicated sentences and long words to describe things. He reckoned that things should be as least various as possible so as to make the point simple to understand. "A sound idea" you might think, but he tried to support this thinking by reading a long, various quote from an 18th century philosopher. You can hear what he said, and my opinion on the matter
""here.
We then got an email from the man himself, complaining that he had been misrepresented. I was a bit baffled as to how I could misrepresent someone by playing exactly what he had said, word for word. So I'd misrepresented him by playing a recording of his own voice, saying his own words, in the very order he said them, within the context he made them? But Alex didn't see it from my perspective. Still, I wasn't to be concerned about that. And so, like the heroic protagonist (or idiot, depending on your view) that I am, I overreached just a little bit more, and managed to receive yet another complaint in the 99th podcast. Two complaints in the space of two podcasts. Now I must be getting good! The main point of this rather lengthy complaint was (funnily enough) to do with (you could say) a fledgling attempt at erotic fantasy - a genre that I am soon to perfect with my stories concerning Sir Patrick Moore and his active interest in lesbianism. We featured an interview with a science fiction author who was talking about people who were obsessed with Doctor Who. He said that people who had an abnormal obsession with Doctor Who were termed "Whomosexuals". So I followed this up by imagining an erotic scenario involving Daleks, as anyone naturally would do. But for some reason, this wasn't deemed normal or acceptable and there was a complaint. However, I did again get another email from someone redressing the balance, saying that they had enjoyed that part of the podcast. So I obviously became more defiant. Don't worry, we're nearly at the point where it all goes horribly wrong, and I get my just desserts. Incidentally, you can hear the offending items from the 99th Southside Podcast
""here.

But they couldn't stop me now, surely? I'd done this for 99 podcasts. It was quite a while before I finally recorded the 100th podcast. I probably should have made this my swan-song. A lengthy imagined erotic scenario involving the Queen and the Pope should have done the trick nicely I think.

Then I decided that the southside Podcast really deserved a bit of a makeover, a revamp. So I created a new opening jingle for the Podcast, changing it from the plain old 'Southside Podcast' to the new and improved title, 'The Southside Podcast with David Eagle'. I think, to be honest I was just trying to see what it would take to make Alex crack and get rid of me once and for all. I was "crusin for a bruisin" which I believe is a line from a Shakespeare play if I remember rightly. Alex protested at this change of title, but I was still in a position of power. I was doing a lot of work for Southside and not really getting much money for it. Alex didn't really have any idea of how to upload podcasts, plus he didn't have the means or skills to edit a podcast together in the way that I was doing. Then the 102nd Southside Podcast came. My final Southside Podcast. There was a report from the London Boat show that I was given to play out on the podcast. This I duly did, but when the report ended I dissected the whole thing and tore it apart. One of the interviewers kept asking a sailor questions about being a salesman. Alex did an entire interview with someone, constantly getting his name and the name of the company wrong, and failed to mention what the company actually did. There were loads of other mistakes that I played and gave mention to. I did this because I thought it was funny. Alex was often calling me up at 7:30 in the morning to criticise me, and so I thought it only fair that I should do the same, only make a funny feature of it on the podcast. You can hear this podcast and my open critique
""here.

This was the last Southside Podcast I ever did. I didn't release another thing on Southside for about six months. Alex didn't let me release another Southside Podcast, although he was happy to give me a load of editing to do. He gave me a load of reports and interviews to edit and upload to the website. He wanted me to edit them and then upload them as individual files, rather than packaging the items together into one podcast. I wasn't getting any money at all for this and so I essentially became an editing slave. I wasn't allowed to speak or produce anything, but I was expected to sit for hours listening to Alex's voice, editing and uploading the content. This was no fun at all. I was doing quite a bit of freelance work at this point and so when I'd finished working for the day, the last thing I wanted to do was sit for a couple of hours, editing Alex.

Then I got an email from Alex. He said that I could do another podcast series, but that I must keep it simple and not decorate it with any features or "humorous" content. He suggested that I go for the "vanilla" approach. It sounded utterly boring to me, but I thought I'd give it a go. So I released
""the first episode of the Spotlight.

Because I wasn't allowed to do any features or extended items of my own, I decided to take on some of the interviewing duties. But there's little point mentioning this podcast too much, since it only lasted for one episode. I was happy with the first episode. I felt that both Alex and I did a good job on it. While Alex was positive about my interview, he made no bones about telling me that the podcast still suffered from my attempts at humour. "Very disappointing" he wrote. I was working on a couple of projects at this time, and things were going really well for me. I was getting really positive feedback for some production work I was doing, which I was actually getting paid for. After reading Alex's email, I suddenly came to a realisation. I didn't need it anymore. southside and I had grown apart. Where once we had worked together, benefiting from a symbiosis where I was allowed to broadcast in my own style, and I allowed Southside to actually broadcast to a bigger audience than just a couple of hospital beds. This partnership worked really well for a few years, but then we both outgrew each other. So I sent Alex my resignation email - which wasn't at all unpleasant - and I've not heard from him since. I sent the email in Mid May, so that's four months ago.

I've just had a look at the Southside website, and they're doing really well. I personally feel really well and am doing some production work, and some other jobs unrelated to radio. And so the story has a happy ending for all concerned.

So there you have it. Thanks for reading to the end. IN fact, as a reward for all your hard work, my next blog post will be an erotic story about Sir Patrick Moore and lesbians. 'The Thighs at Night.' Standby for my first exciting story in the series in which sir Patrick turns from respectable star gazer to filthy bra gazer. But now I'm off to post this. Maybe I should do some research into what legally constitutes character deformation, just to make sure I'm allowed to write this sort of stuff and post it to the Internet. ... Nah! I'm sure it'll be fine! if I end up in court, at least I'll get some publicity from it. I'm sure Sir Patrick would be thrilled and honoured. He might even agree to read the audio book version, or play himself in the television drama. Now there's a thought. Things are really picking up a pace. I'd only conceived this idea a few minutes ago. This is how J. K. Rowling must have felt when she came up with the concept for 'Harry Potter'. Maybe this will be the new 'Harry Potter'. A cinema blockbuster. Wow! I suddenly feel like my life is meaningful at last. I've discovered my great purpose in life!

I'll keep you posted. Bye for now!

P.S. Sorry for the length of this blog post. I'll try to write something a bit more substancial and lengthy next time.

A Very Lengthy Blog Post All About Me: Part4 (nearly there, promise)

2010-08-19T23:34:00.000+01:00

Every time I write a blog post I always suffer from the same problem. Once I get started writing I'm fine. I can easily think of things to write. I always find it difficult knowing how to start. I sit at the computer for ages without writing anything. I've tried to just type the first thing that comes into my head, just to get me going, but generally the first thing that comes into my head is something completely inappropriate that is best left in my head for all our sakes. My theory is that if I start writing, then my brain will eventually kick in and I'll eventually start writing something semi-decent. Then I can go back at the end, delete my warm-up introduction and replace it with something amazingly genius. The trouble is however that I tend to forget that part of the process, and so my first attempt remains.

anyway, this should be the point when my brain kicks in and I start writing something amazing and hilarious. ... Failing that I could always tell you why I left
''Southside.
What a great idea.

firstly, I'll try and summarise my time at Southside, starting with my first experience of the station. In case you haven't read
''parts 1
''2
''and 3
of this epic story, we're currently at the stage where I've tried to apply to numerous hospital and community radio stations in order to gain some live radio experience, but have been turned down on the basis that I am blind. I was also getting increasingly disillusioned by my visits to these radio stations, as they seemed more interested in time checks, traffic and weather reports and playing moreorless none-stop music in between. I wanted to do so much more than that. So imagine my excitement when I discovered Southside.

I rang the hospital radio station and explained who I was. I wasn't a celebrity back then you see. Alex, the manager of the station arranged a time for me to come in and sounded enthusiastic. I hadn't heard any of the station's output so didn't know what to expect. I probably expected another experience similar to my previous experiences, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I assumed my first experience of the station would be a brief introductory meeting with the manager. This had been the case for all the other stations. So I prepared myself for half an hour of discrimination and possibly a bit of uninspiring talk about how radio was all about weather, traffic, one minute generic links, and made-up texts from invented listeners. But no. This experience was completely different.

I entered the hospital and located the radio studios. I knocked on the door and was ushered into a cupboard by a teenager. The door was then closed behind me, and I stood opposite a man, seated behind a mixing desk. I was just about to say something when the man spoke.

"Well now we have David Eagle with us who is visiting the station for the first time. Would you like to take a seat David and ask our guest a question?"

This was more a statement than a question, so I sat down in the cupboard, which I realised was obviously actually a very tiny radio studio, and looked around to see where the guest was. There wasn't anyone else in the studio. I was beginning to think I'd accidentally stumbled in to the section of the hospital that treats the mentally ill instead of a radio studio. I did however recognise the man's voice as that of the station manager. There was a pair of headphones in front of me. I quickly put them on and spoke in to the microphone, wondering who the hell I was speaking to.

"Hello" I said. Always a good opener I’ve found.

"hello" came the voice at the other end.

There was a pause, and so I proceeded to ask my question.

"How are you?"

"very well thank you" came the response.

Then there was another pause. I waited for a few seconds expecting the station manager to take over, but he didn't. "Maybe I should ask another question then" I thought. "Who are you" didn't really seem appropriate, even though that was what I was thinking, as well as "what the hell is going on?"

"So, what have you been up too today?"

"Well" came the voice in my headphones, "we started filming the new series of 'the Sky at Night' today which was very exciting" ...

''Sir Patrick Moore?
I was talking to Sir Patrick Moore?! There was a pause. It didn't seem like Alex, the station manager was in any rush to ask anything himself and so I continued. At least I knew who I was talking to now.

"So, what can we expect from the new series then Sir Patrick?"

he started to talk. I was only half listening. I was stunned. I'd literally just walked in the building two minutes ago. I expected a general introduction with the station manager, but now I'm sitting in a cupboard with a mute radio presenter, interviewing Sir Patrick Moore on the radio over the phone.

Alex eventually took over the reins and continued the rest of the interview. After a few minutes, Alex bid Sir Patrick Moore goodbye and put on some music.

"Welcome to southside" he announced,. It certainly was an unorthodox introduction, but now I assumed we'd have a little chat about the station and where I would fit in etc. Alex didn't seem to think that was immediately necessary. He announced that he needed to go into the other studio to retrieve the phone number of the next guest. By the time he got back there wasn't time for any off-air chat. The song finished and Alex introduced the listener (and fortunately this time me) to the next guest. I think it was some woman I'd never heard of talking about her cosmetic products or something. I'm not an expert when it comes to cosmetics. I'm just lucky to have been gifted with the kind of face that really doesn't need any enhancing. I was however prompted to ask the lady some questions and so I conducted my second interview. I'd been trying to get some radio presenting experience for years but to no avail. Now here I was on my first visit to the station talking to Sir Patrick Moore and a random lady about cosmetic products.

Then the programme ended. Finally, I had a reasonably sane introduction to the station. The meeting went really well. I was encourage to produce jingles and production items for programmes and they were enthusiastically received and played out on the station. Within a month of signing up to join the station I was co-presenting with Alex, interviewing all sorts of people. I spoke to
''Nicholas Parsons,
''Sir Jimmy Savile
''and David Vine.
We regularly spoke to television director
''Graeme Harper
Who was directing the new DR who television series, and had also directed DR who in the 70s. These are just a few of the celebrities we spoke to. You can check out the vast and varied array of guests by listening to the back catalogue of over 100 podcasts. I'll package all the podcasts together in one place at some point, because the website that hosted the podcasts has been taken over, and the main homepage has disappeared. It's probably a ploy against me. The Internet is conspiring to purge me from it.

So, we're interviewing all these amazing guests every week. We're producing some really good content. My production material is being played out on the radio, and everything is going great. But then I make a shocking discovery. In order for the station to survive, it needed a little financial assistance. Every week the station would conduct a raffle to raise money for the station. Someone would walk around the hospital wards selling raffle tickets. One day the person who usually did this duty wasn't available, and so I took on the role. I went around the wards telling people that we were raising money for the hospital radio station. Some of the people I spoke to commented that they weren’t aware there was a radio station in the hospital. I went round the whole of the hospital selling raffle tickets and discovering that no one knew there was a hospital radio station. I maybe came across a handful of people who knew that there was a radio station in the hospital, and this was merely because they'd been told the week before by the man selling raffle tickets. It became clear that no one in the hospital was listening. No one knew there was a hospital radio station, and if they did know then they had no idea how to listen to it. Since the station wasn't broadcasting on FM, the station was only being transmitted to the hospital, so that meant we were sitting in a cupboard on a weekly basis, talking to amazing guests like Sir Patrick Moore, Sir Jimmy Savile and Nicholas Parsons, and there was no one listening and appreciating it. It seemed like complete madness. The station manager had managed to accumulate all these brilliant contacts and bring them on to a fantastic radio programme, but hadn't managed to accumulate an audience. We were basically having private conversations with these people.

This realisation led me to set up the Southside Podcast. Now we'd gone from broadcasting to ourselves in a cupboard, to broadcasting online to the world. Not bad going really. I was already doing a few bits of Voice Over and production work and getting a tiny bit of money for it, so I decided to see if it was possible to expand this with Southside. We found a few companies who wanted to sponsor us and I wrote, voiced and produced adverts for them. This gave some extra revenue to the station and myself, and brought in a lot more money to the station than the raffle. So things were on the up. I'd now taken over podcasting presenting duties and was co-presenting the interviews with Alex. We seemed to be getting listeners too. Plus I was even getting some money for my work. So where did it go wrong? Why have I left Southside. Well it's getting late and ... etc. I'll be back shortly to talk about that, but we'll leave the story there on that incredible cliff-hanger.

I'm away all this weekend doing folk stuff, and so sadly you won't get the rest of the story till sometime next week, so don't wait up for me OK?

byeeeeeee! xxxoMIA

A very lengthy blog post all about me: Final part (apparently)

2010-08-18T22:34:00.004+01:00

It's the final part of the epic trilogy. Perhaps when I die they'll turn this into a film, like Lord of the Rings. It would be a challenging project to undertake. As long as they keep it true to the blog. I don't want to be portrayed as a hobbit. Anyway, it's time for me to actually write about the thing I planned to write about when I started my post two days ago. If you haven't read
''Monday's
and
''Tuesday's
blog posts, then I recommend that you do. There's so many things you wouldn't understand if you just started reading from here. So many thematic elements that are interwoven throughout the texts. There's a very complex story ark going on. Even Noah would find himself a bit out of his depth. So give it a good read. Take your time to digest the information, and come back when you've recovered from the emotional rollercoaster.

So we've established that I want to work in radio. I had done since I was really young. I'd been wooed by quality bbC comedy, and creative radio presenters. I'd also been inspired by the production of radio. I wondered about How the sound effects were designed for science fiction radio drama's such as Doctor Who, and the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy. The great thing about radio for me was how you could be transported to another world without any effort on the part of the listener. Television never really did that for me. Obviously being blind I couldn't engage with the visual aspect of television. But that wasn't the only reason I loved radio and not tele. The television could only show four channels, and often they didn't show any content late at night, or the content they did show wasn't really tailored for a blind person, although I'm sure many of my friends probably appreciated late night channel 4 quite a bit. Televisions were bulky. Radios could be tiny. You could listen to a radio late at night with headphones on under the bed clothes and no one would know. You couldn't do that with a television. Radios had much more than four channels to offer. You had loads of stations on FM, medium wave, long wave and even shortwave. You couldn't get any of that on tele. Imagine all the things I discovered about life, all the new worlds that were revealed to me as a ten year old boy just by listening to the radio late at night.
My ears were Opened up to a world of astonishing music thanks to
''BBC Radio 1
with
''John Peel.
Flick the dial and you got satirical comedy (most of which went totally over my head, but I loved it anyway) from
''BBC Radio 4.
Move away from the bBC and you got late night local commercial radio. Nowadays it's generally all automated music being played out by a computer all night. In those days however you got late night phone ins. And the phone in presenters didn't have to try and be unbiased like on the BBc. O no! They were opinionated, loud, brass and arrogant, more than happy to be controversial or a complete arsehole to gain listener reaction and ratings. But the programmes made for fascinating listening. Again, my ears were opened to a completely different world. People would talk about the issues of the day, their relationship problems and sex. . Sometimes the calls were funny, sometimes they were sad, and now and again there was the poor old, depressed lady who just wanted her life to end. You would get to know certain characters. If a particular person hadn't rang in to the show for awhile, people would ring in to ask where he/she was and if anyone had any information. The shortwave frequency boasted every type of radio station from every place on the earth. There were French radio dramas. In fact I remember tuning into a french radio station one night to hear the sound of two women groaning. At first (being younger than ten at the time) I assumed perhaps they were in pain, but as I listened longer I realised that they were very much enjoying themselves. I got my first sex education lesson about lesbianism thanks to French shortwave radio. I was also the only person in my class to be so fluent in French. Sadly, the teacher wasn't impressed by me knowing the french for dildo. Still, you never know when such information might come in handy. There were also a plethora of right wing Christian radio stations from America. Imagine me as an impressionable pre-teen, channel hopping between French radio dramas about lesbian sex and a gruff American man shouting at me about how I was damned for hell if I didn't send him money. All this has helped shape the David Eagle you know today ... Which explains a lot.

"So what has any of this got to do with why you left
''Southside?"
Patients, I'm getting to that. My point is that the reason I got into radio was so that I could be a part of all this. I wanted to weave myself somewhere into the great tapestry of radio. Does that sound pretentious? Good! So I grew up listening to radio in all it's forms and this inspired me to present something that maybe would enthral someone else, like I had been enthralled. And that's what inspired me to work in radio. And that's what inspired me to write my radio drama all about lesbian sex at just the age of twelve year old. So now we get back to the story of how I tried to get into radio, and how I increasingly became disillusioned as I was turned down from joining radio stations because of my blindness. Radio had always been a source of security, friendship and inspiration to me, but now it was turning ugly. I started to hear more and more presenters who got on my nerves. Cringe-worthy clichéd presenters with their affected radio voices and their generic links. I wanted to do something inspiring and interesting, but they wouldn't let me in. Then to top it all off, I go into the studio of a local community radio station, only to be told that quality radio wasn't inspiring witty presenters, astonishing music like what John peel played, nor was it speech based broadcasting were listeners were invited to interact. Apparently real radio was one minute links consisting of time checks, made-up weather and traffic reports, and text messages that were merely invented by the presenter, accompanied by repetitive playlisted pop music. That one station manager with his fake radio voice and his obsession with weather and time checks nearly destroyed my desire for working in radio with his proclamation of "That's Radio". But then I found Southside! We got their eventually.

But it's getting late and I've gone on a bit longer than I expected. So I'm going to get to the point tomorrow. Maybe. I'll definitely be back tomorrow, and I'll try and get round to explaining why I left Southside. I know that this means I can no longer call this a trilogy, and I may have just sacrificed my chances of this being turned into a film as a result, but never mind.

I'll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, why not pour yourself a glass of wine and chill out in front of a shortwave radio set. You never know, you might find a french radio drama containing lesbian sex scenes.

P.S. In case you're interested, the French for dildo is godemiché, from the ancient Latin word for dildo godemichus, just in case it comes up in a pub quiz or something.

A very lengthy blog post all about me: Part2

2010-08-17T20:30:00.008+01:00

Wow! You're back for more!?
''Yesterday's blog post
unexpectedly turned into a lengthy insert from my biography. I haven't actually written a biography but if I did I'd probably donate the proceeds to Tony Blaire. Just in case he finds himself strapped for cash. If you didn't read
''Yesterday's blog post,
then it might be a good idea to do that first. It will update you on where we are in the epic story, or (more likely) will inform your choice to quickly close your internet browser and never visit this site again. It was in essence a very lengthy blog post all about me. And now here's part two. If you do decide to read this post (in spite of your better judgement) then take heart in some words I accidentally found on a blog post from another person called David Eagle. I was searching for my last blog post on Google to see if it was showing up in the search results, but instead of my post at number one I found another David Eagle's blog post which included the following apposite words:

"I firmly believe that a human being can endure any torture, however grim, if he only knows that there is an end."

So bare with this post. You can get through it. There is an end. Thanks to
''those wise words from a much more wise and informed David Eagle
for those encouraging words.

Anyway, I digress. Fancy that!

After my setbacks last time with the various hospital radio stations, I decided to take a different approach. This time I wouldn't tell them I was blind on the phone or in a letter. I would simply turn up with my cane to the studio and take it from there. This approach seemed to work much better.

The first radio station I visited was a local community radio station. I won't name the radio station because I am about to be not too complimentary about them. The manager listened to my demo and seemed to love it. I thought he might have been getting where I was coming from. He said he definitely wanted me to present on the station. I was thinking that everything was going great. He'd heard the demo and so knew my style. The demo contained snippets of song parodies, spoof adverts, sketches and a few links that were far removed from the generic "this is, that was" format of modern day local commercial radio stations. I took the attitude that if I was going to work in radio, and try and achieve this against the obstacle of my blindness and the discrimination I'd witnessed so far, then I was going to make radio that I thought was really interesting and worthwhile. Otherwise there was no point. If I wasn't different or better than the average local commercial radio presenter then why should an employer choose me above someone else, especially if that someone else can see and therefore won't be an extra hassle?

The station manager seemed really enthusiastic and asked me to come in to the studio the following week to go through a few things. Little did I know that these "few things" would make me so disillusioned with a lot of radio, especially local commercial radio.

The following week I turned up at the studio. The manager greeted me and took me into a room and introduced me to another two men. One of the men was a trainee on his first day, and the other was a presenter at the station. In just one hour from walking into that room I would have my enthusiasm for radio presenting crushed. Bare in mind I had wanted to work in radio since I was really young. I had heard broadcasters like
''Kenny Everett'
and
''Chris Moyles
and wanted to try and create something exciting. But the manager of this station had a very different idea.

First we were introduced to a handbook, which the manager called "the radio station's bible". He then proceeded to read us some commandments for presenters. For some unfathomable reason, I don't seem to be able to recall these commandments verbatim. I will however paraphrase.
"1. Presenter links should last no longer than two minutes."
I interrupted the station manager before he moved on to the second commandment. I informed him that I was already recording my own folk music podcast with my folk group
''The Young'uns
and that we interviewed lots of great folk music performers. I explained that I was planning to incorporate some of this into programmes. I also explained that some of my written material might go over the two minute mark. Plus, all the radio presenters I respected did links that were over two minutes in length. I expected him to instantly capitulate and say that this would be fine, and that these were just rough guidelines for trainee presenters. My optimism soon faded when he told me in no uncertain terms that people didn't turn on their radios to hear the presenter but to listen to music. Besides, no one wanted to listen to folk music. I would be given a list of songs to play each programme, and I would have to stick to that list rigidly. He then proceeded to quickly move on to the second commandment.

One of the Other commandments stated that the presenter must never call the songs "tracks". I never did understand his logic for that one. Apparently it didn't sound right to call a song a track. We must call it a song, although we were allowed to call it a record, even though the songs were digital files on a computer disc drive. He also qualified his reasoning by saying, "it just makes for better radio". I began to wonder how many Sony radio awards amazingly talented presenters had missed out on simply because they accidentally used the word "track" rather than "song". If only they'd read the radio station bible.

Another commandment stated that the presenter should start each link by saying what the last track - sorry song - was, then give the listener the time. Apparently giving the listener the time was of vital importance. I'd lost the will to even protest now, and I sat there becoming more and more deflated as he expounded on all the various reasons why time checks were essential. To illustrate this point, he imagined a number of scenarios where someone might be listening to the radio, dependant on knowing the time.

"imagine if you were late for work because the presenter didn't tell you the time, or if you forgot to pick the children up from school because you didn't realise what the time was. Imagine if you needed to buy some milk for the morning but because the presenter didn't tell you the time you can't because the shop is closed". Each fictional scenario was delivered as if each situation was a horrifying thought, and was proceeded by a pause to increase the drama. He was also pounding the table rhythmically as he spoke, and everyone knows that when someone does that, then they really are talking the truth. It's just one of those facts. I didn't have it in me to remark that if people were so obsessed with the time then they would probably wear a watch, and even if I did say that, he'd probably come back at me with something remarkably insightful like, "yes but what if the watch broke?" And how could anyone come back with an answer to that?

I did however raise a protest about one of the commandments which stated that every hour must be marked by weather and traffic/travel bulletins. The week before, the manager and I had decided that I would record the programmes at home in advance. I was already doing a bit of small-scale voice over and production work at this point and had my own studio. Weather and traffic bulletins were a reasonable thing to include into a live broadcast, but surely the manager would see that they were pointless on a radio show that was pre-recorded and broadcast after 7 P.M.. What he said astounded me. Rather than saying I could simply drop the weather and traffic reports he told me that I should just make them up. He would provide me with some scripts of weather and travel bulletins that had been used in other programmes and I was instructed to just read one of those every hour. He also recommended that I should make up listener's text messages and read them out.

The meeting continued with the manager and presenter giving us a five minute demonstration of the perfect radio show, which conformed entirely to the commandments as set out by the Radio Station's Bible. It was the most uninspiring, generic load of drivel. The manager concluded the meeting by announcing triumphantly: "And that's radio!"

My relationship with that station didn't really develop any further. I also then found them to be just as reticent about taking on a blind person as all the other stations and so it wouldn't have worked, even if I wasn't totally disillusioned about everything they stood for.

Interestingly, the radio station in question have been sanctioned a number of times by
''Ofcom
for faking competition winners, and asking people to text and phone into pre-recorded shows. Seriously, what's wrong with Ofcom? don't they realise, "that's radio!"

So another day on, and I still haven’t told you about why I left
''Southside.

The story will continue tomorrow. Don't worry. Take courage in those words from David Eagle,
''the real David Eagle:

"I firmly believe that a human being can endure any torture, however grim, if he only knows that there is an end."

Then again, he's probably never read one of my blog posts.

A very lengthy blog post all about me: Part1

2010-08-16T22:41:00.002+01:00

Believe it or not, I actually hate writing about myself. This is why my blog posts tend to end up becoming surreal rambles about made-up things. I intended to use this blog as a way of promoting myself and my work, but often I fail to do this and decide instead to go on a complete tangent about something else. Take
''my first blog post
for instance. I spent the first paragraph talking about punctuation marks, and then proceeded to real off a series of puns relating to toilets. I didn't even mention how old I was, where I lived, how long I'd been working and in what capacity, not to mention all the kind of fascinating things people write about themselves on facebook and Twitter. My shoe size was completely omitted, as was my gaming scores for virtual pin the tail on the donkey, or whatever the kids are playing on Facebook these days. I can't keep up with all the latest Facebook fads. I log into facebook and people start poking me, humping me, and throwing random objects at me, such as sheep. In reality, I don't seem to find myself being poked particularly frequently, there is next to no humping at all, although I suppose I am frequently hit by airborne sheep.

Anyway, I have illustrated my point by going off on another tangent. My purpose for this blog post is to explain the reason why there have been no blog posts or podcasts for the last three months. I'm sorry to report that the reason wasn't because I was being merciful towards you. The main reason is to do with the fact that I have resigned from
''Southside Broadcasting.
I did this about three months ago and I'll talk about some of the reasons shortly. Firstly though, while I'm sort of in the process of actually giving you some information about myself without going off on a tangent, I might as well explain how and why I joined Southside and some of the relevant events preceding and proceeding it.

After graduating from University in 2006, I decided it would be a good idea to get a job. With this revolutionary thought in mind, I began to send off radio presenting demos to stations. however, it was nearly always the case that the work experience person who was sorting the mail that day opened my letter, took one glance at my CV, noted that I had no experience in radio at all, and promptly binned my CV along with the demo. Either that, or the wannabe radio presenter kid on work experience in charge of the menial task of sorting through the mail simply decided that he/she would stand a better chance of getting employed as a presenter if they threw all the other wannabe radio presenter kids' demos in the bin. I know that's not how it was, but that's sometimes how it felt. I put together a demo, sent it off to the station, and waited, and waited. After a few months I'd call the station and ask to speak to the relevant person, who was never available to take my call. When I mentioned who I was and the reason for calling, they put me on hold for five minutes, forcing me to listen to their station's output which was always some really annoying radio presenter blabbering on about nothing at all. So I waited on the other end of the phone, listening to this radio presenter boring everyone to death, thinking "why isn't that me? I could do that. Why does he get the chance to bore and annoy people and not me?" Then the switchboard operator would come back after a few minutes and tell me that no one has a clue who I am, and that there is no recollection of ever having received a demo or CV by anyone of the name "David Eagor". I tell the person that my name is David Eagle not Eagor, but they simply say, "well thank you for your call Mr Eagor" and put the phone down. I then curl up into a ball and cry for the rest of the day, and the whole situation starts all over again the next day. Perhaps I've exaggerated just a little, but you get the idea.

I was aware that one of the major reasons I was finding it difficult to get work in radio was because of my lack of experience. It wasn't that I hadn't tried to gain experience. When I was at college I rang up all the hospital radio stations in the area but to no avail. In case you are a new reader to this blog and you haven't read my back cateblog of previous posts, I must mention at this point that I am blind. You might not think that this would be a massive issue but unfortunately it seemed to be the only factor that stopped me from being accepted at any of the hospital radio stations I visited. I would be met with fervent enthusiasm when I contacted the hospital radio stations. They all said they loved the demo and couldn't wait to have me working there. As soon as I mentioned I was blind the story changed. Some managers said that it wouldn't be possible for me to work there because of insurance reasons. One person kept going on about me tripping over cardboard boxes. I wasn't exactly sure why cardboard boxes were such an issue in the studio, but he seemed specifically concerned with the cardboard box situation. I tried reasoning with him that I had never tripped over a cardboard box as far as I could remember, but this didn't quell his fears. I even offered to come down to the studio and prove that I could walk around the place without being brought to my knees by a cardboard box but he would have none of it, even if I wore a safety Helmut and body pads. My favourite response was from the man who turned from a really bold, confident speaker into a complete nervous wreck simply when I mentioned I was blind. Everything was sorted. He'd agreed that I could work at the station and he was extolling my demo and saying how great it would be to have me at the station. Then I mentioned I was blind. He proceeded to stammer and stutter nonsensically for about thirty seconds before hanging up on me without a further comprehensible word. Every time I called back he wouldn't answer.

So I spent two years trying desperately to get experience but to no avail. It never crossed my mind to sue anyone or protest about it. I didn't really have the nerve for that and the whole situation had entirely destroyed my confidence.

Anyway, after University it was time to get a job and I had always wanted to work in radio. So I definitely had to get experience. But as you've just read, that wasn't easy. I couldn't get any professional radio experience because I didn't have any professional radio experience. So I did the next logical thing. I decided to get some voluntary radio experience, and where was I going to get that ? That's right, hospital radio! What a great idea. Why didn't I think of that before?

This blog post is starting to get really lengthy, and so I'll continue the story and eventually tell you my reasons for leaving southside tomorrow.

Thanks for reading. How did you do it? I imagine you'll probably need to do something relaxing and enjoyable after reading all that. How about some music. You could always listen to some quality folk music on
''The Young'uns Myspace page
and then
''click here to buy the new album.
It's the perfect antidote to long, rambling blog posts. Enjoy.

Stay safe and beware of those cardboard boxes!

Man, I Feel Like a Young'un

2010-08-15T20:48:00.001+01:00

Man, I Feel Like a Young'un.
It's been over three months since my last blog post and my last podcast, and I know that the Internet has been rife with rumours as to why. Well you've all got just one more day to plague the various forums with your theories because I'll be letting the cat out of the bag tomorrow. I'll also be telling you why I've been away from the blogosphere and podcasting duties for three months. That's my rubbish joke for this paragraph. See you in paragraph two.

My folk group 'The Young'uns' have just released a new album, 'Man, I feel Like a Young'un'. It's available to order in CD form
''here.
You can listen to three songs from the album to see if you might like it
''on our Myspace page,
But you don't want to bother with that. Just go straight ahead and
''buy the album now
without giving it any thought. Go on, do it, you might not regret it.

So there you go. My glorious return to the blogosphere was basically a very unsubtle advert. Don't worry, my next blog post will probably be a long, egocentric rant. We'll be back to the quality blogging from tomorrow.

Did I mention you can
''buy our new CD here?

Byeeeee!

P.S. I'm not dead.

Surprise surprise! (To be read in an annoying Scouse accent)

2010-05-06T02:16:00.002+01:00

Hey, I'm back! Then again I imagine you'd allready worked that out.
I had planned on returning a lot sooner than now but unfortunately was unable to do so due to volcanic ash impeding flights to the blogosphere. (Two sentences in and I'm allready hitting you with the hilarious satire.) Anyway, I'm glad I managed to return to blogging by today because I'm aware that many of you would decide not to bother voting in the British elections as a direct result of my prolonged absence. Obviously, people were becoming increasingly despondant and ambivalent, forming the opinion that a world depleted of david eagle is doomed to dispair anyway, regardless of election results. Fortunately, I've rectified the situation by my timely return to the blogging scene, much to the gratification of Britain's political parties.

But the good news continues. Not only have I returned to the blogging scene but I have also returned to the podcasting scene. As a result of the complaint I referred to in my last blog post (just under three months ago. I know I'm sorry, but the pain is over now) we decided to take the opportunity to wait, regroup and come back with a different and new podcast series in the hope that I might be able to start afresh and avoid complaint for at least a couple of weeks. The format is a little different in so much as I will be taking on some of the interviewing duties, and there'll be less of my more tangential material. I'm sure I can come up with something meandering, egocentric and rambling for you in the not too distant future, don't worry, but for now I hope you enjoy 'The Spotlight'. I don't want to bog you down (or blog you down) with information about formats, mission statements, target demographics and all that jigerypokery (although I might tell you a bit about the jiggerypokery at some point). Instead, I'll provide you with the download link, and you can listen and then maybe, just maybe, subscribe. Pleeeeeeease!

here's a brief description of the first episode:

In 'The spotlight' this week:
Two motivational speakers and inspiring teachers.
Motivational speaker and business coach
Steph Cutler
and inspirational teacher, author and adventurer
Mike Dooley
share their life story, philosophy and offer practical advice on how we can manifest and achieve the life we want.
Plus, we get a tantalising - yet alas - brief glimpse at the future of furniture. A furniture revolution is upon us. Gone are the days when a bed is just a bed. A chair is just a chair. A desk is just a desk. A table is just a ... well I'm sure you get the idea.

So join us for the first-ever big switch on of 'The Spotlight'!

The direct download link is:
here
And the main podcast page to stream and subscribe is:
here.

well I'll leave it there for today. I understand that all this has been emotional for you all, but be reassured that I will be back in the next few days with lots of updates and stories about what's been happening, and more podcasts. Watch this space. No not that space. Left a bit. That's it.

The eagle Has Landed ... Himself In Hot Water

2010-02-08T18:02:00.001Z

Well it had to happen at some point. I'm actually amazed I managed to hold out until my 53rd blog post before finally surrendering to the temptation to use an "Eagle has landed" pun. Now I've done my first one, there'll be no stopping me. Anyway, I don't think you can really begrudge me the occasional Eagle pun, especially since in this case the pun has two layers of significance. The significance of the "hot water" reference is due to the fact that my dissection of the
""London Boat show
interview that I featured in last week's 'Southside Podcast' has seemingly caused offense with the grand total of one person. So because my name is David Eagle, and because boats travel in water, my pun has an extra layer of genius. You see? I'm not just a pretty face - or in this case, (to continue the reference) boat race.

I don't want to really mention the individual complaint in any real detail, and in some ways my hands are tied on this matter - which would explain any typing mistakes that may be present in this blog post. Sadly however, the result of the complaint has meant that the last Southside Podcast has been taken off the site for review.

I've only ever received three complaints in four years of broadcasting, and I don't deem this as a concern, because I have a broadcasting style that really should elicit a few complaints now and again. I think I'd be a little concerned if I wasn't getting any complaints at all. Imagine such flagship broadcasters as
""Chris Moyles,
""Chris Evans,
or
""Jonathan Ross
without having received a single complaint. I don't want you to misunderstand my point here. By referring to these presenters, I am not saying that because I've received a few complaints in my time, that this obviously proves that I am just as good as them. I am merely expressing the point that in broadcasting, someone somewhere is always going to be offended by an element of a broadcast. This doesn't solely stand true for broadcasters in the entertainment industry. Journalists get complaints too. People complain about
""John Humphrys.
Who has had a fair number of complaints leveled at him, and he has even been censured by the BBC, but he is still a multi-award-winning journalist and presenter on a flagship radio programme. I could go on naming a multitude of broadcasters who have all had many complaints made about them, who are respected in their field. So I don't want to be seen as attempting to vindicate myself by using the fact that every quality broadcaster gets complaints, but it's a vital point to make.

Let's have a closer look at these complaints. None of the complainants have been under forty. I would go so far as to say under fifty, but I'm treading on dangerous ground. "Well at least I'm out of the hot water.) One complainant wrote:
"Sexual innuendo, coarse jokes are never to be found in the material."

The structuring of this sentence is slightly confusing, as it kind of gives the impression that the person is complaining that sexual innuendo and coarse jokes can't be found in the podcasts. I was however able to utilize my skills in deduction to conclude that they were in fact saying that this kind of material "should" never be found, rather than "is" never to be found. Unfortunately, I didn't come to this conclusion until a few podcasts down the line, and so sadly my attempts to placate the complainant by including a healthy dose of regular sexual innuendo and coarse jokes in the subsequent few podcasts were unsuccessful. When complaining, it's helpful if you structure your point in accurate English so as to avoid such confusion. If you think I'm being needlessly pedantic, then you might have some sympathy for me when I explain that the one thing complainants seem to like to use against me is any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes that I might write in my reply to their complaint. They then take great pleasure in pointing out that not only am I an incompetent broadcaster, with all the wit of a September the 11th news bulletin, but that I'm also a really bad person for using a split infinitive in my response to them. They also seem to like to use my grammatical errors or misspelt words as a way of proving that their point is obviously more well-developed than mine, simply because they happen to have wasted a few more hours of their life than me, making out with the Microsoft office paperclip. I therefore have learnt to respond to a complaint with an accurately spelt and grammatically perfect email. Not that it makes any difference. They'll still go to the ends of the earth and bribe
""Stephen Fry
to drudge up some obsolete inaccuracy for them to get back at me with. Until they realise that even Steven Fry has (on occasion) resorted to using sexual innuendo, and so promptly write him a letter of complaint.

Here is how I responded to the complainant’s notion that I should unreservedly avoid the use of sexual innuendo and coarse humor in all broadcasts:

"Recently we featured an item about the world’s oldest joke. The academic who did the research explained that the one subject which was prevalent in jokes from as early as 1900 BC was sex. He also noted that this has been the trend since that point to the modern day. If you really want to make a program that represents reality and our collective-consciousness, then it is my belief that we cannot afford to avoid including a subject that has dominated the thoughts of humankind for millennia. Shakespeare did it, artists, writers, musicians and poets have done it for centuries, but apparently the book stops at me. If I do it, then I’ve gone too far."

I think it's the responsibility of a broadcaster to understand his/her audience. Obviously it's not a good idea to use obvious sexual innuendo and coarse humour in a children's programme'; although there are many children's programmes that do include such material to cater for the parent audience, and the references hopefully go over the children's heads - although nowadays it's probably the children who have to explain the jokes to the parents. Of course I understand that I can't swear in a broadcast, and that I should definitely stay clear of the
""Roy Chubby Brown
joke book, but I don't think I should be concerned about making a few minor comments that are likely to have been knocked off (forgive the sexual innuendo) the jokes list for a carry on film for being too tame. I therefore believe it is unfair to suggest that sexual innuendo shouldn't be present in any of my broadcasts. I switch on the radio and am bombarded with a barrage of pop songs (designed for children and the brain-dead) about sex. I switch on the TV and see products being advertised by the inclusion of sexually based material. Even the government sometimes talk about sexing up political documents. But that's hardly the point is it? One person (with an unhealthy obsession for grammar, and a PHD in pedantry) says that I David Eagle should never make a sexually based joke again, and that’s that (forgive the tautology DR Pedant). Maybe I should take this as a compliment. Perhaps I am being singled out because they believe that if I make a pledge to refrain from mentioning sex in my broadcasts, then the rest of the world will follow suit. So maybe I'm fundamentally responsible for all these adverts, pop songs and government documents. I think I need a lie down. That's just too much responsibility for one man.

The other complaint that I received once was a big ranting email about how I was completely egotistical and that all my broadcasts were self-indulgent. They also claimed that I spent the vast majority of the podcast telling the listener my name. The ironic thing was that the whole point of their email was about how much I repeated my name, but weirdly they kept referring to me as "David Egle". Obviously, they could have benefited from me mentioning it a few more times.

I've also mentioned (in a
""previous blog post
about the complainant who was offended by the word homosexuals. They weren’t concerned about the context I used the word in, which was obviously not a derogatory one. Their complaint seemed to be simply that I had said the word "homosexuals".

Finally, I'll leave you with a closing sentence from a complainant’s email to me.
"You're capable of much better".

And on that consolatory note, I leave you.

Podcast 6

2010-02-06T13:51:00.002Z

What do book shop employees, assassins and people who work in the packaging industry all have in common? Find out by downloading the sixth and final podcast in this current short series.
Plus, David Eagle helps give the heaviest show on radio a bit of a lift.
And there’s music from comedy songwriter
""Martin Nesbitt.
Recorded for 'The Young'uns Podcast'.

""Click here to download.
""Click here to listen.

I'll be back with a rather long blog post on Monday where I shall be venting my spleen. Hopefully that won't be too painful.

Podcast 5

2010-02-05T17:21:00.001Z

The fifth podcast in the series is now available to download

Today: What do you get when you cross
""Groove Armada
with
""The Nolan Sisters?
Plus, more rants about other people's radio shows, and some more social network based drama (this time courtesy of
""Twitter).

"" click here to download.
""Click here to listen.

Back tomorrow for the final podcast.

Podcast 4

2010-02-04T20:28:00.001Z

The fourth podcast in the sixpodcast series of my highlights show on
""CVFM
is available to download

Today's podcast features live music recorded for 'The Young'uns Podcast'
from the North Yorkshire based singer songwriter
""Richard Grainger;
a dramatic love story courtesy of
""Facebook;
And David Eagle has a nervous breakdown ... again!
You can download it
""here,
or stream it in your default media player
""by clicking here.

Back tomorrow with the ... etc etc.

Podcast 3

2010-02-03T22:42:00.001Z

Podcast three of six is now available to download.

Featuring the confessions of a criminal mastermind; a Leona Lewis song parody; an example of some really bad reality TV; an exclusive live recording from Heaven with God and Jesus; and a few puns thrown in for good measure.

You can download the podcast directly
""here,
or
""stream the album in your default media player.

Back tomorrow with podcast four. (are you getting the hang of the concept now?)

Podcast 2

2010-02-02T21:36:00.002Z

The second of six daily podcasts is ready to download
"Today, David Eagle takes a journey back in time to the world's first standup comedy gig.
He introduces you to the world's most dangerous sound effects CD.
Plus, you're not clever, and you're certainly not big. We hear the radio advert that will stop you speeding ... apparently."

You can either download it
""here,
or
""stream the file in your default media player.
What the hell, why not do both?!

Back tomorrow with podcast 3.

David Eagle, The Radio Experience, The Podcast: 1

2010-02-01T20:37:00.002Z

For the next six days I'll be releasing a short podcast. At the start of the year I broadcasted a show on
""CVFM
in Middlesbrough which was a two-hour compilation show, featuring a selection of highlights from previous programmes.
The first podcast consists of the show's introduction (surprisingly), some live Greek music recorded for a 'Young'uns Podcast'
and a rant about another radio show.

You can download the first podcast
""here,
or
""Play the file in your default media player..

Back tomorrow with podcast two.

This blog post could really do with a short, catchy title. You know? Something that really grabs a reader and makes them want to read. O well ...

2010-01-29T09:18:00.004Z

Well apart from posting about
""this week's Southside Podcast,
I haven't blogged at all this week. As I wrote at the end of last year, one of my new year's resolutions was to post more frequently. I'm not one of these people who fail their new year's resolution in January and then give up bothering to start over again. "O well, I'll have to wait till next year". I'm convinced that some people deliberately set themselves up for a fall by using this logic. They don't really want to stop smoking - They're addicted to it for goodness sake. So they make a big thing of saying that starting January 1st, they won't smoke again. They then spend the whole of New Year's Eve chain smoking, while saying to themselves and those around them "only a few minutes to go till I stop smoking". Then as midnight draws nearer, they frantically try to get as much smoking done as possible. Then midnight comes. They make a big thing about stopping smoking. Then it's January 6th and they have one cigarette. Then it's, "o well, there's always next year".

Anyway, enough of the elementary psychology lecture. I mean I don't want to baffle you with my paradigm shifting revelations about the human psyche. My point simply is that just because I haven't posted as much as I intended to this year, I'm not going to take the "o well there's always next year" approach. So expect more revealing insights into the human psyche throughout the year, with a few fart jokes thrown in for good measure.

My excuse for not bloggin this week is because I've had a really busy week. I've just started working on a top-secret project that few people know about. No, it's not a revolutionary breakthrough in human psychology, although you'd obviously be excused for thinking such a thing. I'm not going to reveal anything about this until it's well under way, because I've learnt from experience not to get to enthusiastic and not to count your chickens before they've hatched. You learn these things after years living on a farm with an overly zealous mathematician. So you'll just have to wait to find out, or try and work it out for yourself by any clues I might accidentally leave in my blog posts. I imagine this will start a huge debate on Internet forums across the world. what is David Eagle's secret project? Thousands of people worldwide dissecting my blog posts for any clues as to what this project could be. Could it be a compendium of fart jokes? A thesis on human psychology? ...

On Tuesday I attended a business course. I haven't had a great wealth of experience of these kinds of course, but apparently (from talking with quite a few people) a lot of these courses are similar in terms of presentation style. The major thing that struck me as a little odd was that every time someone answered a question correctly, a sweet of some variety would be thrown to them. It seemed a little odd that a room full of professionals would be rewarded with candy chucked at their heads by a flamboient, camp course instructor. I was doing quite well answering the questions, but soon decided it was best to leave the answering to others when he moved on to hurling gobstoppers. I'm not sure how many people attending the course were actually interested in the subject being taught, or whether they simply attended these courses for the sweets. Anyway, thanks to this course I have since developed quite a sweet tooth. Granted I still know nothing about business but that’s hardly the point is it? I think I'm going to have to enroll on a few more courses simply to satisfy my newly developed addiction to confectionary. There's a bookkeeping course in a couple of weeks. I'm not entirely sure what that's all about. Perhaps they'll teach me to develop strategies for successfully evading library fines. Actually, I wonder if there's a joke-writing course. It could be very useful for improving the quality of this blog. Obviously I'll only go if they're giving out free sweets.

Anyway, my plan to blog more regularly will be successful as far as next week is concerned, because I'll be issuing a new podcast everyday for six days starting this Monday. I'll let you know what that's all about on Monday. see you then.
There might even be free sweets.

102nd Southside Podcast

2010-01-27T15:53:00.006Z

This week, Southside bring you a location report from the
""London boat show.
Leisure and Marine PR person
""Peta Stuart-hunt
along with actress Sarah Huntley hear emotional tails of perilous sailing exploits, and discover the joys of
""microdiving.
""C. R. Lindemer
explains all about her book 'True Cow Tales' featuring stories from and about farmers, ranchers and dairy princesses.
And the deputy director general of the
""BBC,
Mark Byford, evaluates the relationship between the BBC and community radio stations, and comments on how radio has changed and how audiences engage with radio nowadays.

Plus presenter David Eagle ((with his sore behind) attempts to wean fellow Southside Podcast presenters off drugs, and offers some advice on conducting an interview.

All that and more when you
""download this week's Southside Podcast

101st southside Podcast

2010-01-16T15:27:00.003Z

The 'southside Podcast' returns, new and improved for 2010. We are new and improved in a number of ways - well, two ways. firstly, we say hello to our friends at
""CVFM
in Middlesbrough, who've started providing our podcast on their FM service. The second way in which we could say to be new and improved came as a bit of a shock to me. When I logged into the service that has hosted our podcasts for the last 100 episodes, I was informed that the company would be disbanding their service and that new podcast episodes could no longer be added. We have therefore migrated over to
""southsidepodcast.mypodcast.com
which will hopefully prove to be more than just a temporary home. OK, I suppose neither of those points indicated that the podcasts would be in anyway improved, but its a new year, a new decade, and people are prone to making these kinds of rash, unsubstantiated claims at this time of the year. Anyway, here is the description for this week's podcast:

---

"This week,
""Rosemary Conley
tells us about her new fitness DVD and makes an announcement about her career. Leisure and marine PR person
""Peta Stuart-Hunt
talks about how both the weather and the economy have affected the leisure and marine industry,, and gives mention to the recent news story about the paraplegic yachtsman who sailed the Atlantic Ocean. One of our top sport correspondents, Jane Clarke, has worked as curator of the Aintree museum for thirty years. She shares with us some horse racing facts, and talks about some of the horse racing memorabilia she has collected for the museum. And, have you suffered an ice or snow related accident that wasn't your fault? You could have a claim, or could you? Charles Atha and Martin Demoily from
""Atha and Co solicitors,
explain how the weather conditions can affect compensation claims.

Plus, presenter
"David Eagle
devises a new, quality game show for 2010, and takes on the persona of a magician.

It's the new and improved 'Southside Podcast', back for 2010."

And the download link for podcast 101 is:"here.

I'll be back with some more news very shortly.

Whelm whelm whelm!

2010-01-11T22:12:00.000Z

Following on from my amazing fascinating and intellectually inquisitive blog post about the use of the word "hark" in modern day language, I started thinking about other words that are under used and really shouldn't be. (Yes work is a bit scarce at the moment. How did you guess?) I was thinking about the use of the word "whelm". People seem more than happy to bandy around the fact that they might be overwhelmed, the word "under whelmed" is used (though it seems to be less common). But what about "whelm"? Why does nobody feel the need to express a state of whelm. In fact, I would go so far as to say that many of the people who claim to be overwhelmed are in fact, in actuality only really whelmed. The word "whelm" means "overcome, as with emotions or perceptual stimuli". I would therefore argue that most people are wrongly stating that they are overwhelmed, when a simple statement of being whelmed is most likely much more accurate. So why do people feel the need to be so histrionic about a simple case of the whelms? So maybe next time you recklessly go to bandy around the notion that you are overwhelmed, perhaps you should pause to think about whether a simple declaration of whelm will suffice in this instance. Maybe save the overwhelm statement to something more dramatic that deserves it. If we all made a conscious and concerted effort to be more sincere and truthful about expressing how whelmed we actually are, then maybe one day the word "overwhelm" will once more have an impact, rather than simply being a term we frivolously and thoughtlessly bandy around. OK?

Now, something that definitely will warrant the term "overwhelming" will be the first southside Podcast of 2010. I discovered today that the company that host the podcasts are disbanding their service so that we can't upload any knew material. Fortunately, I may have found a better alternative and we'll be launching a new series of podcasts very soon, along with a new exciting podcast that I'm planning on making. Prepare to have your whelm horizons well and truly broadened.

Yours whelmingly, David Eagle

The Young'uns Podcast Archive: 01 to 50

2010-01-09T18:35:00.000Z

The Young'uns Podcast: 50

""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 49

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 48

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 47

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 46

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 45

Listen.
Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 44

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 43

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 42

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns podcast: 41

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 40

""Listen.
""Listen.

The Young'uns podcast: 39

""Liste.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 38

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 37

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 36

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 35

""Listen.
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The Young'uns Podcast: 34

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 33

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 32

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 31

""Listen.
""Download. <\a>

The Young'uns Podcast: 30

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 29

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 28

"Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 27

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 26

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 25

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 24

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 23

""Listen.
""download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 22

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 21

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 20

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 19

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 18

""Listen.
""Download.

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 17

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 16

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 15

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 14

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 13

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 12

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 11

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 10

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 09

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 08

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 07

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 06

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 05

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 04

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 03

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 02

""Listen.
""Download.

The Young'uns Podcast: 01

""Listen.
""Download.

A Happy New Year Bog Post!

2010-01-07T10:44:00.000Z

The initial point of my last blog post was to wish you a happy new year and to write about some new year related shenanigans, but then I got sidetracked by my discovery that I was number one and two in Google search results for "David Eagle". So I'll attempt to post what I meant to post last time and we'll see how it goes.

Firstly, let me wish you all a happy new year. (There. Good start.) I hope you all had really good New Year's parties. I imagine many of you were holding David Eagle parties, with David Eagle blog posts projected on to a big screen and selections from the
””David Eagle Youtube channel
pumping loudly out of the sound system. I'm sure it was amazing and I wish I could have been there, but obviously I was hosting my own party for a select few lucky fans.

The party was being held at my house and to be honest, things didn't get off to the best of starts as half an hour before the first guests arrived, my toilet broke. The toilet decided in its infinite wisdom (because everyone knows that toilets are infinitely wise. That's why King Solomon hardly ever left his toilet) to not flush. (Check out my sentence structuring skills!) Anyway, try as I might, the toilet refused to flush. What to do? I couldn't exactly postpone the New Year's party till another day. It's a new year's party for goodness sake. It wasn't really an option to cancel the party because people had obviously traveled far and wide to gather in the presence of the Eagle. I therefore sent texts out to all the people due to attend the party, warning them that any toilet activities must be only liquid based. If they think they might need to pass solids, then they may prefer to refrain from coming or to try and do the necessary before leaving their house. For the rest of the night, the toilet was out of bounds and people had to resort to buckets, plant pots and a whole array of interesting objects. I was moved by the camaraderie and resourcefulness among the guests that this situation induced. Some people were very creative with their choice of objects, and the creativity of the choices increased the more drunk people got. Unfortunately, one person (who will remain nameless) got a little too drunk and sadly forgot the toilet embargo. So much for "out with the old".

The next morning I switched on my phone to find a number of voice mail messages. A few friends (who were at another party) had rang up to wish me a happy new year. Sadly for them, they must have been not quite sober enough to remember that they had rang my phone a few seconds ago, and so ended up leaving me numerous voice mail messages that relayed the happenings of the party. Let's just say I have quite a lot of incriminating evidence on my phone. I'll be seeing some of these friends tomorrow night and if they fail to buy me enough drinks, I might just post the messages on my blog - and everyone knows how popular that is. The funny thing about it is that I seem to know more about what happened at the party than some of my friends, who were obviously too drunk to realize. I've had great fun winding people up about this. In actuality, most of the things I heard weren’t incriminating at all, but it's fun to get people all self-conscious and anxious. The most incriminating message consisted of a game of 'I have never...' which is were people have to mention something risqué or secret that they have done in their lives, and the rest of the room have to take a drink if they've done the same thing in their life. Thanks to this accidentally left voice mail message, I now know who has and who has not had sex in a field. Ironically, I always said she was a bit of a cow, turns out I wasn't far wrong. Excellent blackmailing material!

Anyway, there's a couple of jolly and inspirational New Year's anecdotes for you. I'll probably get a commission from radio 4 to be a regular speaker on 'Thought for The day' based on this blog post.

I've got a few new, exciting projects coming up in the next few weeks, plus the first
""southside Podcast
of the New Year. I'll give you more information on all that very soon, but that will do for now. I don't want to overload you with too much quality in one sitting.

P.S. The toilet has been fixed. You can sleep soundly now.

Hark Hark! Good News!

2010-01-04T00:04:00.007Z

You might think by the title of this post that I'm a bit too late to hark. Harking seems to be chiefly used at Christmas time. Personally I think that the word hark should be used more in everyday speech, and shouldn't simply be wheeled out on one specific seasonal occasion. I see no reason why the herald angels should use the word "hark" and not I, therefore this is I David Eagle in 2010 harking with pride. I suppose people often "hark back". The phrase "hark back" is used now and again, but did anyone never think to try harking forwards. Perhaps it's quite painful to hark forwards. I'll try a spot of forward harking over the next week and report back with my findings. O yes, I'm a pioneer, a trendsetter. This time next year we'll be harking all over the place in any direction we jolly well please. I think 2010 should be the year of the hark.

Well, I think it's safe to say that I've probably managed to increase the likelihood of coming up in internet search results for the word "hark". If I keep writing the word hark over and over again, perhaps I'll usurp the herald angels in the google search rankings.

Anyway, after all that I expect you're all wondering why I was actually requesting your harking in the first place. Well I have very good reason to do so. Once more, after a lapse of a few months, my blog has once more risen to the top of the google search charts for the search query "David Eagle". What's more, my myspace radio page is at number two. This happened once before and I wrote a huge blog about it, arrogantly gloating about how brilliant and popular I am, only to be ignominiously instantly way down the charts the next day. But this time I think it's for real. I really do. However I'm not taking anything for granted, therefore I'm going to do my very best to stay at number one. I'm going to try every trick in the book, but Tolkien doesn't seem to have written much on the subject of googgle rankings. Hahahaa, you see what I did there? So my intention is to try and write a blog about something nearly everyday. This is kind of good news in so much as I'll be blogging a lot more, however it does mean that I'll be churning out a lot of inane nonsense, simply in a bid to maintain my google search ranking.

Another trick to increase the likelihood of scoring higher in google searches is to include links to other pages on the Internet. This apparently makes your website look more active and involved. One of my recent Christmas blog posts contained a huge amount of links. Unfortunately, I hadn't planned on linking to anything in this post as I haven't really got any cause to, but if I'm serious about being number one then I'm going to have to play hardball. Therefore,
""here is a dictionary definition of the word "hark" for your perusal.
Please click on the link. It will probably help to make Google think I'm really popular and that people pay attention or "hark" to what I actually write.

I was actually going to write some more for this post, but I think I'll save that till tomorrow. I mean I don't want to use all my material in one go, especially if I've got to blog everyday to keep at number one. I think you've had enough quality material for one post. I'll let you hark off till tomorrow.

Before I go though I'd just like to say how intelligent and attractive all the people who work for Google are. (There, that should do the trick.)

O, happy New Year by the way!

The Christmas Southside Podcast is here!

2009-12-24T20:08:00.001Z

Once more I return with another festive gift. The Christmas Southside Podcast has been released.
Here’s the dowload link
and here is the description:

The Southside Podcast returns with a rather festive feel - which is fortunate as it's Christmas. Guests include top-class newsreader Angela Rippon, Rupert Adams from 'William Hill The Buckeyes', award winning television director Graeme Harper, and The Nolans. Plus: Christmas chemistry carrels; sing along to the classic carol 'Away In A Spectrometer', and traditional Christmas singing courtesy of the Stockton folk club, and there's jingle bells as sang by a five-year-old child who gives us her interpretation of Christmas.

Merry Christmas from everyone at Southside.

---

And I'd like to again extend a merry christmas to you all. I'm making it my new year's resolution to blog a lot more frequently.

Merry Christmas!

This is my Yule Blog! Ho Ho Ho!

2009-12-23T19:49:00.000Z

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, and to be honest the Eagle will probably put on a bit too. Anyway, I come baring gifts. But first: A group of local scout members decided to go into business. Sticking to the scout ethos, they decided to set up a business that dealt with fixing broken car horns. What did they call the business? The answer to that shall be revealed at the end of this post. And that doesn't even technically count as one of the gifts.

I'm sure you all know (unless your from another planet or something - perhaps a spaceman that came traveling) I perform in a folk group called
The Young'uns
and for two years we ran a podcast. My first two gifts to you, are the links to download those Christmas podcasts.
Here is the link to download:
2006 podcast
Which includes an improvised version of the nativity, lots of Christmas music and Christmas folky DJ mixes,
And the
2007 podcast.
which features an avant-garde interpretation of the nativity, more Christmas mixing, lots of live Christmas music, and lots more.

You can download last years Southside Podcast
here,
Which includes interviews with two actresses, an award winning Pianist, and a director of a pantomime, and of course me being hilarious.

The gifts continue a coming, because I also want to provide you with links to some Christmas material I've produced over the years.
my Christmas song parody
about Jesus - I don't know if you've heard of him or not.
I also did a project as part of my Creative Music Technology university course in 2005. It's a short Christmas radio drama called 'The Return Of The Real Farther Christmas'. I thought I'd include it in my list of gift to you because I do still actually think it's quite good, although that's probably got something to do with my ego than anything else.
Here it is.

And now moving away from me and my ego, here are a couple of random Christmas rap songs that I found on an excellent website
sweetthunder.org/tapes
which archives random tape recordings that someone collects, by purchasing old cassette tapes from charity shops and car boot sales etc. There's a lot of interesting stuff on there, including people's diaries, and crazy home recordings. Here are a couple of Christmas rap songs that I downloaded from the site. I don't know much about the artists or anything, but these songs really have to be heard to be believed. No words can do them justice, so I recommend you just listen and be moved in a way you never thought possible.
The first is a version of the Twelve days Of Christmas, which consists of twelve rappers rapping.
Here's the download link.
The second is a song called the Santa Rap, which is a work of genius.
Here's the link.

And there's more. I'll be back tomorrow with 2009's Christmas Southside Podcast. And there's even more. It's time for the reveal to what the scouts called their car horn fixing business. The name of the business was: 'Beep Repaired'.

I bet you there's a cracker joke writer out there reading this, envious of my comedy genius.

Merry Christmas everyone.

The Holland documentary is here

2009-11-20T17:09:00.012Z

Coming soon: What do you think I might have said to the arrogant jockey who was bragging about making his horse race faster by feeding him ecstasy? But first …

As you probably know, I am part of a folk group calledThe Young’unsAnd for the last three years I have performed at a Maritime festival in a small Dutch town named Appingendam. We stopped doing 'The Young'uns Podcast' but we did say we would feature a few specials. Well it’s taken over a year to do our first special, but then doesn’t that only make it so much more special?

You can follow The Young’uns’ adventures in Holland in this documentary, which features recordings from 2008/2009’s festivals. There are live sea shanties, random interviews with Dutch people, comprehensive Dutch language training courtesy of ‘The Young’uns’ language school, plus we venture into the Dutch ghetto to experience Dutch gangster rap.

I was wondering whether it would be best to split it into a few parts, but in the end just decided to lump it altogether. You can download the lump
""here.
Of if you prefer to stream the lump (if that's not too oximoronic a concept)
""here.

I feel I should personally apologise to the BBC and everyone involved at ‘children in need’ which is being televised tonight. I expect that you will have significantly less viewers now, due to the fact that they will all be listening to the Young’uns in Holland. I assure you that I did not intentionally usurp ‘children in need’, although the BBc might want to consider asking me to present the programme next time, to avoid this kind of thing in the future.

And now: What do you think I said to the very arrogant jockey who was bragging about making his horse run faster by giving him ecstasy?

I told him to get off his high horse. (yes it really is that simple. Perhaps I should start writing the jokes in Christmas crackers. Well my jokes are just as unfunny, although they are a little bit on the lengthy side, as the set-up to the joke goes for a whole paragraph. We might have to invest in bigger crackers, or maybe put the punchline in another box of crackers. We could sell the punchline crackers separately. What a great money making opportunity. People would have to buy the punchline crackers to get the end of the joke. I could take this a step further. I could make a really long joke with a number of punchlines and twists, so that people have to buy cracker after cracker. I would sell the crackers individually, and people would get addicted to the story of the joke, and keep buying and buying until the end of the joke was reached. Except, the joke never ends, and hapless, helpless cracker addicts are forced to buy Christmas crackers all the way through the year, long beyond Christmas time. Right I’m going to work on this idea right now! But as an extra treat for reading, I’ll leave you with one final joke/question that didn’t quite meet the cracker standard – in other words, it’s not lengthy enough.

A group of local scout members decided to go into business. Sticking to the scout ethos, they decided to set up a business that dealt with fixing broken car horns. What did they call the business?

I will of course provide you with the answer the next time I make a post, but in the meantime, enjoy the Holland documentary.

99th Southside Podcast, plus the great riddle reveal!

2009-11-12T23:53:00.006Z

Coming soon: What do male homosexual prostitutes, deep-sea divers, and investigative journalists all have in common? But first:

The 99th Southside Podcast is here. This is its description:

Have you ever wondered about what a Lama might write in a blog? No, of course you haven’t but anyway … This week comedy writer dean Wilkinson introduces us to the Lamadali, as well as discussing the subject of children’s literature.
Science Fiction writers Alan Stevens and Fiona Moore talk about the science Fiction drama ‘Faction Paradox’.
Actor Trevor Cooper shares some acting anecdotes and reminisces about working on Doctor who.
Plus, find out all about a couple of lesser-known sexual orientations, and take part in our new, exciting competition, ‘Where Am I Scratching?’ And which science fiction monster or alien would you most like to enter into a physical relationship with?
O, and what are the two fastest fish in the ocean?
Find out by Podding ON™ to the 99th Southside Podcast.
Warning, this week’s Southside Podcast contains material that certain listeners may find unnerving, such as the sounds of unidentified monsters tearing human beings apart. Well what did you expect?

You can download it
here.
So now on to my little riddle:
What do male homosexual prostitutes, deep-sea divers and investigative journalists all have in common?

Answer: They’re often paid to get to the bottom of things.

I’ll be back in a few days, but in the meantime, have a think about what I might have said to the rather arrogant jockey who was bragging about giving his horse Ecstasy so as to make it move faster.
I’ll give you the answer when next I blog.

P.S. I’ve just received a phone call from a friend who I’ve not heard from in a while. We’ve known each other for ages and she always does stuff like this. Baring in mind we've not had a conversation for quite some time, So she calls me up and (before even saying hi) she whispers “Tell me what Albus Dumbledore’s brother was called”. Now you may think this is some kind of really weird sexy talk we’ve got going on, but it isn’t. I could tell by the background sound where she was, plus it’s not the first time she’s done this. In the background I could hear the quizmaster asking questions. She was ringing me from a pub quiz, and insisted on cheating because their team always lose. Last time she did this she kept me on the phone, for a whole round, making me answer questions for ages. Most of the time I didn’t know the answer and so I had to do an Internet search. I’ve got one hand on the keyboard and the other holding the phone, and while I make my search, she just keeps telling me to hurry up or bombards me with even more questions before I get a chance to answer the last one. And her quiz team aren't any use. All they do is keep asking "Has he got the answwer yet? Has he got the answer yet?" You've never known true pressure until you've been on the phone to my friend asking quiz questions ten-to-the-dozen, with her friends and her cursing me and telling me to hurry up. Also, the last time I spoke to her she rang me from a pub quiz. I’d like to think she was choosing me because she saw me as the friend with the most knowledge, but the tragic fact is simply that I'm a sucker. So I look forward to our next reunion (maybe in a couple of months) when I have to tell her what year the Spanish armada occurred, without so much as a “hi, how do you do” from her. But as the British rock band ‘Placebo’ so sagely put it all those years ago, "A Friend in need's a friend indeed'. (I'm sure they were the first people to coin that saying.)

O and just in case you are at all interested, the Spanish Armada was in 1588, and Albus Dumbledore’s brother was called Aberforth, but then you all knew that already didn’t you?