The Fuhrer of Fun demands your laughter…

I consider myself to be quite fun. I make people laugh, I like to go out dancing etc. Basically what I am saying here is that I know how to enjoy myself and am not some joyless freakshow staying at home polishing his anime figures (this is not a euphemism!).

But what I hate is when I am told to have fun or backed into a corner and told that ‘Yes I will have a good time!’

Let me give you a for instance. Recently I went to a panto. I say recently but it was actually about a month ago and it has taken that long to be able to talk about it without giving myself flashbacks.

Anyway, I went because friends were involved and I have no memory of going to a panto. I suspected that I would hate it, but I have been wrong before.

Turns out I was right, it made me want to die. Not because it was bad, in fact I could see that a lot of time and attention had been spent on it. My problem went deeper, it was the audience participation! I had been told beforehand that I would be expected to join in and had shuddered.

After a couple of pre show drinks I thought I could handle it. I was wrong. I sat there cringing and the more that everyone was encouraged to participate, the less inclined I was. Being very English though, I saw it through to the end. And nearly died.

I am the same with things like Karaoke, I am quite happy to go and watch but as soon as anyone suggests that I sing because ‘It’s Karaoke, you’ve got to’ then they are likely to see my middle finger and my retreating back.

I once nearly slapped someone at a party once as they tried to drag me onto the dancefloor and I have been known to lock myself in the bathroom to avoid sitting on Santa’s knee (partly because this was a party for gays and Santa was a 40 year old bear!).

The moral of the story, leave me alone to have fun, I promise I will but with each ‘You’ve got to’ the likelihood decreases exponentially.

Spare some change for Guide Dogs for the Terminally Stupid…

Eyes are great aren’t they? They allow you to see a sunset, enjoy a film, gaze upon your loved ones and all sorts. But you know what they are best at? Helping you see where you are going, they’re just brilliant at that.

But there is a growing problem with people’s eye usage. I work in London (but don’t live there thankfully) and am seeing people every day who haven’t read their eye user manual. You see the problem is that they expect their eyes to multi-task.

But eyes don’t multi-task. So if you are walking down a busy street, you need your eyes for their primary function, watching where you are going. Not reading “Heal yourself through Macrame” and not watching the latest episode of “Z list celebs prostitute themselves for 5 seconds of attention”.

If you don’t use them to watch where you are going, you will bump into someone. This is London after all not the beach in Goa. And maybe that someone won’t be me (who being very British will just tut under their breath) but someone who will give you a good slapping.

So if you must catch up on gossip or finish that Richard and Judy recommended novel (US readers think Oprah’s bookclub), for heaven’s sake get up early and do it at home. Use your eyes for what they are meant for and make everyone’s journey to work more pleasant.

There’s something on your shoe, no wait that is your shoe…

OK, I realise that we are delving into my own very particular prejudices here but it’s my blog so why not?

Look down at your shoes, do they look like they should have a bell on the end and are they a shade ranging from baby puke beige to post curry diarrhoea brown? Then I have one word for you, NO!

Why did you think they looked good? Who told you they did? Someone else? They are not your friend! Do me a favour, after you have read this, take them off and put them in the bin. No don’t recycle, the Third World has enough problems already.

Thank you.

Hi, I am Celebrity X and I suggest that you buy Shitty Product Y…

So I pretty much hate advertising with a passion. Whether it’s advertising telling you that women will definitely touch your dick if you drive this car, use that aftershave or wear that watch, or the stuff that tells you your children will die if you don’t swab the entire house with a particular disinfectant every 3 seconds.

I hate it because even if it is a necessary product like loo roll or food we are still bombarded with messages about why a particular brand is the best.

I also hate it because despite all my intellectual understanding of how they trick you into wanting something, my reptilian hindbrain still responds and thinks ‘Yes, I do need that’.

But I do accept that until we as a society have the courage to say ‘Hmm, that money thing was a bit of a aberration, maybe we should try something else’ then advertising will always exist. (No I don’t have an answer as to what would replace money, because I am an opinionated prick not a problem solver).

However, there is one thing that I despise more than any other type of advertising. That’s when I hear or see a celebrity (proper usage) that I respect or admire, taking their 30 pieces of silver to shil for some advertiser. You know the times when you think ‘But they can’t need the money, why would they do that?’ I do make an exception for charity advertising. But anyone else…well I will leave the last word to the late, great Bill Hicks:

“Do a commercial, you’re off the artistic roll call, every word you say is suspect, you’re a corporate whore and eh, end of story”

I cocktease, you cocktease, he/she/it (mostly he) cockteases.

Straight boys are weird. Next time one of your straight male friends tells you that he finds understanding women difficult, I want you to laugh in his face. What makes them so weird? This conversation (which I have had maybe 4 or 5 billion times in my life):

“You’re queer? Ugh backs to the wall.”
“No really, you are safe, believe me. I wouldn’t touch you with the butler’s toasting fork.”
“Why, what’s wrong with me? Why don’t you fancy me?”
“Well, your hair is all wrong, we could only have a conversation about football and I am not sure you have washed today, hence the cheap aftershave making my eyes water.”
“Oh…”

So in one conversation, we have gone from Mr Straight fearing for his ring to looking like Cinderella when the Prince tells her he is not looking for anything serious.

Sometimes the conversation ends there and sometimes it gets flirtier and another cocktease is born.

But where does this need to cocktease come from? Look at the gay media, where once you would find articles about the first Pride march in the Czech Republic, you now cannot move for straight ‘Celebs’ wanting to take their clothes off for ‘The Gays’. Now don’t get me wrong, I like to look at a naked man as much as the next person. However, I think there is something disingenuous about straight men rippling their pecs or standing coyly with a hand over their bollocks talking about how they love their gay fanbase and of course they have thought maybe they were bisexual. Really? It’s just marketing. It’s them trying to sell you whatever it is they are hawking. Don’t fall for it. They won’t sleep with you. Especially the repeat offenders, those men who are naked so often that I think it’s time to set up a charity to buy them some clothes. Don’t you get it? They are treating you like you are only your genitalia. Do you want to be the target of this conversation:

“So I have some new tat to sell and I need to raise my profile, what should I do?”
“Take it all off for the gays, they’ll buy anything with enough nipple showing.”

Seriously, think about it. They are not taking their clothes off because they like to, they want you to buy stuff.

And now the whole straight boy world is going down the cocktease route because there’s nobody easier to sell to than ‘The Gays’. Don’t be fooled.

My bananas need four handles! Actually they don’t…

People don’t give a shit about the environment. Got that? They really don’t. I am sure you do, I’m sure you walk to the shops with your reusable bags and worry about food miles and sustainability as do I, a lot! But look around next time you are in your local supermarket, do you feel like you’re in the majority? No, you don’t.

I saw something the other day that really brought this home to me. A man was buying bananas. Nothing wrong with that, I live in the UK and eat bananas (Fairtrade natch) and until global warming really sets in, they will clock up food miles. That wasn’t my issue. My issue was that he had put them in a produce bag and tied the handles together, then proceeded to put the bag in another bag. That’s right folks, bananas in a bag in another bag and that was all the bag contained.

Now if creationists are to be believed then the humble banana makes a mockery of Darwinism because of its perfect hand fitting shape, therefore I can’t help thinking that a bunch of bananas doesn’t really need one handle let alone four.

It was all I could do not to follow him out of the shop screaming “It’ll be your fault when we have to live on the tops of mountains because that’s the only landmass left but you’ll be dead, what do you care?” I didn’t though, I did what every good UK citizen would do and tutted under my breath.

My point is this. I don’t care if you want to put one item in each bag and carry your shopping home in relays, that’s really up to you. But for the love of Jebus, can you please get some reusable bags or at the very least bring your stockpile of bags from the last trip to the supermarket and use them again, you won’t even have to buy bags then! Then you won’t get tutted at by me. Thanks.

Rage inside the machine: A manifesto

So this is how it is. Things get on my nerves, every day, sometimes a lot. And I find myself grinding my teeth and composing rants inside my head. Then one day I thought ‘You know Matthew (I am the only one allowed to use Matthew) you could post these things on the Internet. After all if the Internet has given us anything, it has allowed impotent rage from anonymous people to reach a wider audience.”

I was right, so here we are. Things that piss me off, in no particular order of importance. Enjoy.