30. Football night
Rival football firms arrange to settle the score in a showdown after a local Derby match, but it soon becomes apparent that things aren't going according to plan, with the hooligans getting more than they bargained for from a third party.
Wednesday, 30 January 2013
Monday, 28 January 2013
Sunday, 27 January 2013
26. Makeover
A shy, withdrawn and frustrated lady in her 30's receives a fantastic makeover and her life drastically changes. She becomes more confident, more assertive, feels more attractive and, as a result, more sociable. She meets a man, gets a new job and feels more content. A study of the power of positive thinking.
A shy, withdrawn and frustrated lady in her 30's receives a fantastic makeover and her life drastically changes. She becomes more confident, more assertive, feels more attractive and, as a result, more sociable. She meets a man, gets a new job and feels more content. A study of the power of positive thinking.
Friday, 25 January 2013
25. A few lessons in music
I started playing guitar when I was 15 on a cheap clunky acoustic guitar. I started lessons with a gentleman called Kev, who had a great reputation. I just wanted to learn a few chords and write a few songs, as I had just started listening to John Lennon. Kev was a world class player, stand-up guy and would subsequently become an inspiration and mentor to me in other things apart from music. He was a master of the guitar, and could play literally any piece of music.
As most guitarists and musicians will tell you, music theory and sight reading can be daunting, perplexing and painfully dull at times. This technical language can appear to be firmly divorced from the organic creativity, self expression and 'jamming' that brings joy to many people. It's the reason they start playing in the first place. In order to be a good musician, however, some theory knowledge is essential and as a friend of mine said -
"In order to be a good guitarist you have to be a bit of a geek, but we try to hide it"!
But it was Kev who demystified music and broke it down into its simplest form.
He simply said, "There are just twelve notes in music, it's just how you play them and when you play them".
He encouraged improvisation rather than blind adherence to modes, scales and technical virtuosity. He taught me the blues. He taught me to jam. He gave me the tools to play from my heart and express my feelings through wood and steel.
I started playing guitar when I was 15 on a cheap clunky acoustic guitar. I started lessons with a gentleman called Kev, who had a great reputation. I just wanted to learn a few chords and write a few songs, as I had just started listening to John Lennon. Kev was a world class player, stand-up guy and would subsequently become an inspiration and mentor to me in other things apart from music. He was a master of the guitar, and could play literally any piece of music.
As most guitarists and musicians will tell you, music theory and sight reading can be daunting, perplexing and painfully dull at times. This technical language can appear to be firmly divorced from the organic creativity, self expression and 'jamming' that brings joy to many people. It's the reason they start playing in the first place. In order to be a good musician, however, some theory knowledge is essential and as a friend of mine said -
"In order to be a good guitarist you have to be a bit of a geek, but we try to hide it"!
But it was Kev who demystified music and broke it down into its simplest form.
He simply said, "There are just twelve notes in music, it's just how you play them and when you play them".
He encouraged improvisation rather than blind adherence to modes, scales and technical virtuosity. He taught me the blues. He taught me to jam. He gave me the tools to play from my heart and express my feelings through wood and steel.
Thursday, 24 January 2013
24. Rough - another true story
The mid morning sunlight poured through the window into the luxury bedroom. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, feeling numb and disorientated. I realised I wasn't still drunk, I was still wasted. A crippling, paint-stripping hangover was in the post. I looked around the room.
"Where am I?" I muttered to myself.
I looked down and to my horror I saw blood all over the bed sheets, the bed and the floor. So much blood it had soaked through the mattress. I sat there in shock for five minutes, unable to digest the information. What on earth had happened here? My memory was hazy as I tried to piece together the preceding hours.
I was in a luxury chalet in small village called Argentière in France. The chalet I had been working on for two summer months with a stone mason, building a wall outside. Upon completion of the wall we had decided to have a party, and as my friend and I had played a gig in the local bar, we invited half the village back to the chalet. It was big, with seven bedrooms, a swimming pool and a hot tub. I remembered the start of the night... but what happened after? I looked down and quickly realised where the blood had come from - my foot. My poor foot had several large chunks of glass in it and I had been so drunk I didn't notice. I had literally been bleeding for hours.
I hobbled out of the bedroom to see who was around, still bleeding slightly on the carpet as I moved. I walked into the nearest bedroom and saw my friend Robin and a girl.
"Robin, what happened to my foot mate?" I croaked.
"Oh shit!! I've no idea! There's blood everywhere!" replied a surprised Robin.
"You should see the bed!"
After ten minutes of investigation it became quickly apparent that due to the general level of drunkenness, a number of bottles had been smashed on the decking near the hot tub. Another girl had unfortunately suffered the same fate as me and we were quickly advised to go to the local doctor’s surgery. A friend drove us there with only 20 minutes to spare before it shut, while other party casualties kindly helped to clean the blood stained mattress.
Now, being young, drunk and English in a small French village is not an enviable position to be in at the best of times. Going to see a doctor who you quite possibly kept awake the night before with your insidious noise pollution is also not a pleasant experience. Going to see this doctor when he is about to shut, without your European Health insurance card and being told you need several stitches in your toes is quite simply divine. For reasons I cannot recall, apart from his obvious sadistic tendencies, he administered the stitches without local anaesthetic and charged me 100 Euros for the privilege.
When people say "I feel rough" after drinking I empathise and understand on the deepest possible level.
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
23. Rock
concert
The
following is an example of a typical (if not slightly exaggerated) conversation
I used to have with my band mates in my gigging days:
The band
rush into the crowded bar at 9.50pm on a busy Saturday night. The patrons are
loud, drunk and obnoxious. The band mates go to the stage area and start to set
up the equipment.
MATT
Rich, I'm
not being funny mate, but you know we start at 10 on Saturdays, Hazel doesn't
like it when we start late! How are we going to do a sound check in 10 minutes?
RICH
Well
Sarah cooked fondue, and Tony and Beki came round for tea...
ROBIN
Oh fuck,
I can't find my drum key again.
MATT
Oh
brilliant
ROBIN
Oh hold
on, I left it in the car, back in a minute.
MATT
Come on
guys, let’s crack on
RICH sets
his keyboard up and connects it up to the speakers.
RICH
Can you
just do a level check on the keys mate?
MATT
Yeah,
play something.
MATT
walks in front of the stage listening to the various speakers around the bar.
MATT
(cont)
I can't
hear anything!!
RICH
Nothing?
MATT
Yeah
nothing! Can you hear anything through the monitor?
RICH
Oh shit,
I left the monitor in the other bar last night! I'll have to drive and get it
MATT
Well we
need to sort the speakers out before we do that.
RICH
Well the
cable must be broken
MATT
Just use
your spare..
RICH
I'm not
sure where it is, I lent it to Dave the other week. Oh - do you have any
batteries for my guitar; it's been cutting out a bit....
MATT
Yeah - in
my case. And there's spare speaker cable too.
RICH
Cheers.
RICH sets
up all of his gear and checks the levels. ROBIN comes back in.
MATT
Mate,
Rich needs the car keys so he can go and pick up the monitor from Charlie’s.
ROBIN
Ah ok, I've
had to park it up the road so it's a bit of a walk.
RICH
No
worries.
RICH runs
out and returns 10 minutes later with the monitor. The band starts to play.
MATT's guitar cuts out in the middle of the first guitar solo.
MATT
Oh shit!
MATT
looks for his spare cable but can't see it.
MATT
(cont)
RICH have
you seen my spare jack lead?
RICH
No idea
mate
MATT
I need a
drink!
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
22. Home
The door to the world is firmly shut,
A home should be a haven,
no hustle or bustle in here.
No calls, no noise, no fools with toys
no morons smashed on beer.
as the traffic hums in the distance.
Now I’ll sit and think and laugh and drink
And contemplate this existence.
I’m free to now wear what I want
and do just as I please,
I might sit here in my underpants,
and eat a piece of cheese.
Monday, 21 January 2013
Saturday, 19 January 2013
19. Mandarin
TONY sits in the pubs sipping a pint of lager. DAVE marches in proudly.
TONY
Hi mate! How's it going?
DAVE
I'm sound pal! You ok? I got that tat done!
TONY
Oh nice one! You plucked up the courage then?!
DAVE
I did pal, it hurt like fuck I'm telling you! It's still sore...
TONY
I can imagine. Let's have a look then!
DAVE
Ok.. two secs
DAVE rolls the sleeve of his t-shirt up revealing a long tattoo containing the letters 我是个娘们
DAVE
Good eh! Proper Chinese shit mate.
TONY
It looks really good matey, they've done a top job on that. Do you know what it means?
DAVE
Yep. It means 'Like a tiger with wings'! How cool is that?
I look well buff with that on my guns man!
TONY
Yeah it does look great, honestly. I think the translation might be a little bit out though...
DAVE
What? How would you know? What do you mean it's out?
TONY
Well you remember I did International Business at uni?
DAVE
Yeah... so?
TONY
I also studied Chinese for three years. It was a joint honours degree.
DAVE
Oh. I didn't know that. So what is the translation?
TONY
Well I suppose the most direct translation in English would be.. well er..
DAVE
What?? Come on tell me.
TONY
'I am a wanker'.
I look well buff with that on my guns man!
TONY
Yeah it does look great, honestly. I think the translation might be a little bit out though...
DAVE
What? How would you know? What do you mean it's out?
TONY
Well you remember I did International Business at uni?
DAVE
Yeah... so?
TONY
I also studied Chinese for three years. It was a joint honours degree.
DAVE
Oh. I didn't know that. So what is the translation?
TONY
Well I suppose the most direct translation in English would be.. well er..
DAVE
What?? Come on tell me.
TONY
'I am a wanker'.
Friday, 18 January 2013
18. Apocalypse
CONQUEST
The Four Horsemen
The phone rings loudly.
CONQUEST
Hello?
WAR
Hey Conquest, how’s it going buddy?
CONQUEST
I’m just chilling man, just smoking some bud and watchin’ the game
WAR
Good game eh!
CONQUEST
Yeah sure is, anyway, just a quick call dude, I just want to check you’re still on for next Friday?
WAR
Friday…… Friday.. er.. remind me again what we had planned?
CONQUEST
The Apocalypse! We’ve had this pencilled in for bloody ages mate, seriously! I’m sick of this..
WAR
Oh sorry man, I’ve been busy you know recently and Sheila’s had the flu. Also, I had to take Rover to the vet again and-
CONQUEST
Look mate – I’m not being funny, but sometimes I think it’s only me that takes this global destruction shit seriously!
WAR
Oh come on mate, we’re all busy..
Busy? You’re always stoned mate. When was the last time you created a world war? I mean come on, seriously..
WAR
It takes time man, give me a break…
CONQUEST
I’m so pissed off. I even got the Mayans to put the 21st in their diary to advertise it, it’s not cheap to advertise for 2000 years you know! At this rate it’s not gonna happen – again!
WAR
I’ll be there mate. Have you spoken to Famine and Death? Oh hold on, I think Death’s taking Sue to Goa for Christmas, he fancied a change of scene this year.
CONQUEST
Forget it then. Bunch of twats… They say you should never work with your mates.
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
16. Roasting
My old man is incredibly intelligent, in a pragmatic, logical and methodical way. He likes facts, statistics and numbers and engages in a startling amount of research before making any decision. He has worked in property since he was 20.
My mother’s intelligence is diametrically opposed to his, and she had always enjoyed reading, learning languages, writing and finding creative solutions to problems at work. This creative flair is apparent in her cooking, as she produces fantastically colourful and tasty meals.
In the early 90’s my father took a voluntary redundancy from his long term job of 25 years. This allowed him to take a welcome break, renovate the family home and indulge in new hobbies. One of these proposed hobbies was cooking, and as my mother was working full time, it seemed to be beneficial for everyone.
And thus began a bright new era, in which my father would cook the family meal each and every day, to a blissfully enthusiastic and grateful family. The world class cuisine would undoubtedly delight our taste buds, causing sensory overload and keeping us in a state of ecstasy until the final mouthful of the daily three-course extravaganza had been consumed.
My father, being a slightly obsessive and paranoid gentleman, was fearful of getting food poisoning from undercooked food. He is also very old school in his approach, favouring traditional meat, vegetable and potato combinations, without gravy or sauce. Fine, I thought, the meat may be 'well done' as part of a simple arrangement, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be nutritious and delicious, and I kept a clear and open mind.
One the first day of my father’s exciting new cooking career, I entered the kitchen.
“What’s for tea then Dad?” I asked, expectantly.
“Chicken with peas, carrots and boiled potatoes” he replied.
Chicken with peas and carrots! I thought to myself, how exciting! I imagined glazed vegetables, creamy and cheesy mash potato and succulent chicken breast with a white wine and mushroom sauce.
I sat down in anticipation at the table ready to tuck into this mouth-watering plate of heaven, thrilled by the prospect of my father creating exuberant new meals every day.
My father placed the plate in front of me. The chicken looked like a heavily roasted leather boot on a plate, potatoes that had got pissed and beaten up in a bar fight, and vegetables that were so shrivelled they were practically sub-atomic.
Over the subsequent two years my father insisted on cooking every day, but sadly his abilities as a chef remained questionable. I mastered the fine art of smothering and disguising the bland taste with heroic doses of lurpack butter and tomato ketchup.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
15. 'Kidnap'
It's mid afternoon,
and it's time for a snooze,
Grandad is sleepy
as he's had a light booze.
The toddler is worn out
from munching his lunch
we're all just so tired -
look at us, what a bunch!
The big dog is dreaming,
with his head on my lap
while the kids have no steam left,
it's time for a nap!
It's mid afternoon,
and it's time for a snooze,
Grandad is sleepy
as he's had a light booze.
The toddler is worn out
from munching his lunch
we're all just so tired -
look at us, what a bunch!
The big dog is dreaming,
with his head on my lap
while the kids have no steam left,
it's time for a nap!
Sunday, 13 January 2013
13. Engineer
My Grandad passed away in October and I wrote the following eulogy for the funeral:
My Grandad passed away in October and I wrote the following eulogy for the funeral:
Ray was a man of simple pleasures. He liked nothing more than smoking his pipe, eating a tasty meal or reading a book. He was a designer, an engineer, a fixer, mender and a tinkerer - always prolonging the life of everything he owned, re-using and recycling at every opportunity. He would find solutions to problems that nobody else would think of, breathing new life over seemingly decrepit and dormant items. This innovative and frugal attitude is perhaps something his generation were the last to own, in stark contrast to the current era of consumerism, borrowing and overspending.
He could always be found in his garage working on something using his vast array of tools, or fixing his car - in an era when it was still possible to do so. In his working life as a Design Engineer he worked on projects all over the globe, producing almost inconceivable engineering feats. His attention to detail, steady hand and amazing mind made him an asset to the engineering world. I often wonder what he would be doing with that great mind if he had his time now - with all the amazing computer software and other technology we have available to us now.
He was a very fit and active man, always busy doing something and always dressed smartly - he even wore smart shirt and jeans on a hot summers day to mow the lawn! The garden was always pristine, and full of local birds that he and Jean liked to feed as much as possible. He loved all animals and was arguably the Doctor Doolittle of Dronfield - constantly surrounded by birds in the garden, budgies and family dogs.
Ray was incredibly kind and generous and would do anything for his family and friends - nothing was too much trouble. He did everything from offering lifts to helping to build a house for us and everything in between. This generosity and love will never be forgotten by any of us.
Saturday, 12 January 2013
12. Play date itinerary for Tom
3pm
Arrive, meet and greet
3.10pm
Tell someone you've done a poo when you haven't, prompting a full inspection from an adult.
3.20pm
Actually do a poo. And a wee.
3.40pm
Pick up some lego, throw it at someone.
4.00pm
Start crying, just because you can
4.15pm
Run around manically, shouting something weird, like "I'm being chased by the rabbit", freaking out all the adults and other children.
4.30pm
Draw something that resembles a rough squiggle and tell everyone it's a drawing of one of the girls in the playgroup.
4.45pm
Draw something that looks suspiciously similar to the previous 'masterpiece' and tell the rest of the group you've drawn a boat.
5.00pm
Forcefully take a Thomas the Tank Engine toy off little Dave, making him cry. Get told off. Start crying too, just because it seems to be fashionable.
5.15pm
Have a little snooze. Why not eh!
5.45pm
Wake up in time for mummy arriving, and then tea!
3pm
Arrive, meet and greet
3.10pm
Tell someone you've done a poo when you haven't, prompting a full inspection from an adult.
3.20pm
Actually do a poo. And a wee.
3.40pm
Pick up some lego, throw it at someone.
4.00pm
Start crying, just because you can
4.15pm
Run around manically, shouting something weird, like "I'm being chased by the rabbit", freaking out all the adults and other children.
4.30pm
Draw something that resembles a rough squiggle and tell everyone it's a drawing of one of the girls in the playgroup.
4.45pm
Draw something that looks suspiciously similar to the previous 'masterpiece' and tell the rest of the group you've drawn a boat.
5.00pm
Forcefully take a Thomas the Tank Engine toy off little Dave, making him cry. Get told off. Start crying too, just because it seems to be fashionable.
5.15pm
Have a little snooze. Why not eh!
5.45pm
Wake up in time for mummy arriving, and then tea!
11. Phantom Horse
INTERVIEWER
Today in the studio we welcome Geoffrey, the phantom horse, formally know as 'Big Geoff'. Geoffrey resides in Brighton, East Sussex. He has been knocking around the city farms being a bit phantom and shit for the last 15 years, following his untimely and tragic death in a gang fight. As one of the most feared horse gangsters in East Sussex he still likes to keep a tight rein on proceedings despite being 100% transparent. He still commands great respect from the local farmyard posse, and still kicks back with his home crew. Like any self respecting invisible entity he initially took the opportunity to engage in covert voyeurism, perving over lady horses in their stables. He firmly states that he is a reformed character, and has been married to a fellow phantom horse, Jane, who we've never seen.
INTERVIEWER
Hi Geoff, thank you so much for coming today! How are you?
GEOFFREY
Geoffrey
INTERVIEWER
Oh - shit, sorry Geoffrey.
GEOFFREY
No actually, call me Sir.
INTERVIEWER
SIR!?!!?
GEOFFREY
Yes, Sir Geoffrey Bottywinkle II
INTERVIEWER
(nervously)
Er... ok.. Sir Geof-
GEOFFREY
Just messing kid! ha ha your face! What a picture!!
Oh classic!
GEOFFREY WIPES A TEAR FROM HIS FACE
HA HA HA! Go on kid, fire away
INTERVIEWER
So.. what's it like being a ghost?
GEOFFREY
It's sound bruv! Cheap food bills, I can walk through walls, free entry to clubs, I don't have to pay to use the spa and I hear every conversation! I still run shit in this town - Gangster number one - that's me!
INTERVIEWER
I see, er.. if you don't mind me asking, how come you can speak such perfect English as a horse. Did you go to language school?
GEOFFREY
Well my parents moved over here from France in the 1960's, and French wasn't much use round London I can tell ya! So I guess I just picked it up when I was hanging around with the Krays!
INTERVIEWER
You knew the Krays!? Wow what a story.
GEOFFREY
I'm afraid not.
INTERVIEWER
What? What are you on about?
GEOFFREY
Well, this is hard for me to say....
INTERVIEWER
Go on...
GEOFFREY
Well, the thing is Dave....
INTERVIEWER
Dave?
GEOFFREY
Yes that's your name.
INTERVIEWER
No it's not.
GEOFFREY
It is. As I was saying Dave, you might not remember taking a heroic dose of magic mushrooms 2 hours ago, but I should point out that you're sat on a sofa interviewing an invisible gangster horse.
INTERVIEWER
Oh right, can you make me a cheese sandwich then?
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
9. Rescue animal
The RSPCA inspector said you could see George's ribs when he found him. Ribs that the next door neighbour had seen being kicked repeatedly by the drunken, knuckle scraping, hillbilly shithead that purportedly looked after George. 'Big Ron' they call him.
George was incredibly shy and withdrawn when we met him and brought him into our home. He hid behind our sofa for an entire month and would barely come out for food. I had to leave the bowl next to the sofa and leave the room before he would eat and quickly retreat back into his shell. When I tried to stroke him he would cower away from me and whimper in the corner. I'm sure he still sometimes sees the drunken hand of neglect striking him, night after night.
I gradually moved the bowl further and further away from the sofa, enticing George to come out into the room. Eventually, after 4 months he ate his food with me in the room and we started to bond. Now, his black fur shines and he looks like a perfectly healthy labrador. He sits on the sofa and watches TV with us now, and even jumps on our bed in the mornings. I’m so happy George is with us, as he so nearly wasn’t.
The RSPCA inspector said you could see George's ribs when he found him. Ribs that the next door neighbour had seen being kicked repeatedly by the drunken, knuckle scraping, hillbilly shithead that purportedly looked after George. 'Big Ron' they call him.
George was incredibly shy and withdrawn when we met him and brought him into our home. He hid behind our sofa for an entire month and would barely come out for food. I had to leave the bowl next to the sofa and leave the room before he would eat and quickly retreat back into his shell. When I tried to stroke him he would cower away from me and whimper in the corner. I'm sure he still sometimes sees the drunken hand of neglect striking him, night after night.
I gradually moved the bowl further and further away from the sofa, enticing George to come out into the room. Eventually, after 4 months he ate his food with me in the room and we started to bond. Now, his black fur shines and he looks like a perfectly healthy labrador. He sits on the sofa and watches TV with us now, and even jumps on our bed in the mornings. I’m so happy George is with us, as he so nearly wasn’t.
Tuesday, 8 January 2013
Monday, 7 January 2013
7. 'See a penny pick it up'
DAD
If you see a penny you need to pick it up son, always.
SON
Why? It’s just a penny.
DAD
It’s not just a penny. It’s the principal of the matter son.
SON
How do you mean Dad?
DAD
Well ok, let’s put it like this:
Billions of people all over the world spend most of their lives slogging their guts out for their entire adult lives to earn a bit of money so they can live….
SON
Ok…
DAD
We all have to work, and if you’re very very lucky, you might get to do something you enjoy for a living. This, however, only applies to a tiny percentage of the global population.
Bearing that in mind, there is a significant amount of frivolous overspending, excessive borrowing, waste and wretched consumerism in some parts of the world, in stark contrast to the poorest of the poor – people with literally nothing. Aspirational television, ‘celebrity’ worship and distasteful opulence are all plagues on modern society, making those with little or no money and possessions feel perpetually downtrodden and hopeless.
The poorest in society have to scrimp, save, improvise, recycle, reuse, borrow, and have a generally frugal existence. Every penny counts to them. By walking past free money on the floor and not picking it up you are indirectly doing them a disservice. You owe it to yourself and the struggling masses to pick it up.
SON
Shit, I wish I’d never asked now, I was only being polite!
Sunday, 6 January 2013
5. Painting
My good friend Jason is an artist. A truly amazing artist, and possibly the most talented person I've ever met. For 15 years he worked as a commercial artist, doing commissions for bars, pubs, restaurants, families and individuals. He produced incredible works of art over the years and built up an impeccable reputation, with legions of extremely satisfied customers. He is a master of technique - painting with acrylics, oils, watercolours and on canvas and murals, and drawing with charcoal, coloured pencils, pastels, markers, crayons and pen and ink on paper, canvas, wood, cardboard, chalkboard, whiteboard, plastic and leather. In fact, he started his career painting album covers onto leather jackets for the punks in the 1980's. He has never had to advertise his services, as his reputation precedes him.
After 15 years he called me and told me he was quitting work as a professional artist. I asked him why and he said it was because he was replicating, copying and recreating someone else's vision for money and it never allowed for his own creative input. Incredibly, the only original piece of work he created is one mind blowing sketch on a sheet of A4 paper. One day, he will return to art, but purely for his own pleasure and not for money. I can't wait to see the results.
Painting - A true story
My good friend Jason is an artist. A truly amazing artist, and possibly the most talented person I've ever met. For 15 years he worked as a commercial artist, doing commissions for bars, pubs, restaurants, families and individuals. He produced incredible works of art over the years and built up an impeccable reputation, with legions of extremely satisfied customers. He is a master of technique - painting with acrylics, oils, watercolours and on canvas and murals, and drawing with charcoal, coloured pencils, pastels, markers, crayons and pen and ink on paper, canvas, wood, cardboard, chalkboard, whiteboard, plastic and leather. In fact, he started his career painting album covers onto leather jackets for the punks in the 1980's. He has never had to advertise his services, as his reputation precedes him.
After 15 years he called me and told me he was quitting work as a professional artist. I asked him why and he said it was because he was replicating, copying and recreating someone else's vision for money and it never allowed for his own creative input. Incredibly, the only original piece of work he created is one mind blowing sketch on a sheet of A4 paper. One day, he will return to art, but purely for his own pleasure and not for money. I can't wait to see the results.
Friday, 4 January 2013
Thursday, 3 January 2013
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
Ok.. here we go!
1. Fresh Starts
Fresh starts,
Clean slates,
New horizons
and open roads
Let's carve our own paths people
and make our own rules!
2. Wish come true
Brief synopsis for a comedy studying the power of positive (and negative) thinking.
'Wish come true' follows two versions of the same person over a 15 year period. Both are physically identical, with very different personalities.
Jack 1 is tall, dark, handsome and fulfilled in his career, running his own business, being his own boss and working hard. Jack 1 has always known he wanted to work for himself and looked for opportunities, accepting that success doesn't happen overnight. He worked a string of low paid jobs in his 20's while he was setting his business up. Despite numerous setbacks he eventually made it, largely due to the fact that he stayed positive, learnt from his experiences, applied tenacity and kept his eye on the goal. He feels spiritually fulfilled, emotionally stable and is married to a beautiful wife.
Jack 2 is also tall, dark, handsome and has always known he didn't want to just make money for someone else. He also worked a string of low paid jobs in his 20's, hating all of them, and partying heavily in his free time. He researched various business opportunities and made a few attempts, but convinced himself that the odds were stacked against him / too competitive / not lucrative enough. Now, at 35, Jack loathes his life and remains stuck working in a contact centre, exuding bitterness. Cynicism and sarcasm literally ooze through his pores. Because of this lack of personal fulfilment, he finds it extremely hard to have a relationship.
1. Fresh Starts
Fresh starts,
Clean slates,
New horizons
and open roads
Let's carve our own paths people
and make our own rules!
2. Wish come true
Brief synopsis for a comedy studying the power of positive (and negative) thinking.
'Wish come true' follows two versions of the same person over a 15 year period. Both are physically identical, with very different personalities.
Jack 1 is tall, dark, handsome and fulfilled in his career, running his own business, being his own boss and working hard. Jack 1 has always known he wanted to work for himself and looked for opportunities, accepting that success doesn't happen overnight. He worked a string of low paid jobs in his 20's while he was setting his business up. Despite numerous setbacks he eventually made it, largely due to the fact that he stayed positive, learnt from his experiences, applied tenacity and kept his eye on the goal. He feels spiritually fulfilled, emotionally stable and is married to a beautiful wife.
Jack 2 is also tall, dark, handsome and has always known he didn't want to just make money for someone else. He also worked a string of low paid jobs in his 20's, hating all of them, and partying heavily in his free time. He researched various business opportunities and made a few attempts, but convinced himself that the odds were stacked against him / too competitive / not lucrative enough. Now, at 35, Jack loathes his life and remains stuck working in a contact centre, exuding bitterness. Cynicism and sarcasm literally ooze through his pores. Because of this lack of personal fulfilment, he finds it extremely hard to have a relationship.
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