Feedback Friday :: Nothing To See Here

Right then. Here we are.

This will be sloppy. Not half-hearted, but probably at most third-brained. I’ve been working. Two full days immersed in a world of SMEs and CEOs, audits, buy-outs and chubby men smiling money smiles in shiny ties and proper trousers. It’s really quite tiring. All I want to do is go and watch the telly.

I shall resist, however.

So, news. Time over event multiplied by inherent appeal. I have none. Indeed, apart from work, which saps the soul but enriches the other bits that quite like getting out of the house once in a while and earning a few bob, I am a hollow bone. It’s all rather unenlightening really. I don’t even want to talk about it.

I think the worst thing about work is the time it takes. It’s like – if you take it seriously – it takes up most of your life! There’s almost no time at all to do anything else. This week, for example, I was going to write a scintillating, coruscating piece about that bad egg, Barbara Ellen, escaping under the radar of Jan Moir’s odium and managing to get away not only with writing wholly misjudged tosh about internet paedophiles being lazy, but also this: ‘People should not feel obliged to switch off their mobile phones in theatres.' What a silly fucker. I was also going to get over the feelings of futility that have sprung up about something I was trying to write, pick up where I left off and bring it to swift, satisfactory and profitable conclusion. I was going to get hold of a rug that would really tie the room together. I was going to track down Danny Wallace and persuade him to let me write his column in Shortlist. Because it’s crap. And then I was going to brush his hair flat for him and insist that he stop raising his right eyebrow like a particularly charmless nonce. I was going to learn to play the piano. I was going to write a song about a paedophile called Never Too Old For A Cuddle. I was going to be something. I was going to be a contender. Instead of a blithering toad, which is what I am.

What about that Nick Griffin, eh? They should get him on Have I Got News For You and crucify him.

Balls, I’ve got to go to sleep. Got to be up early. ‘Work while you have the light,’ said the philosopher. ‘You are responsible for the talent that has been entrusted to you.’

Meh.

Have a nice weekend now. I will be drinking heavily and fixing my bike. And you? What will you be doing? Anything ring-looseningly cool?