Will-Self-obsession

Name dropping, as you've probably noticed by now, I love it. Really I want to be the name other people drop, but unless that happens, I'll have to have fame by association. And not much of that. I have no celebrity friends, so what seems to have happened, because Will Self is the only person on TV besides Toby Young I knew when I was at school, I see him all the time and since the first time when I said 'I went round to his house and now he's on TV' have realised had he never been on TV he would have been a very vague and insignificant character in my past, so I promise from now on I won't go on about him any more as had he not been a very minor celebrity would have been virtually forgotten by now.
Mind you, win some, lose some, it made me think (spurred on by bloggers like Ben Graham ) -brace yourselves- I could make a list of every celebrity I've spoken to (as we can all see them in the street or the theatre but not speak to them) and how I did it. Thank god there are enough other anoraks and obsessionals out there to make it worth repeating though maybe 90%+ of my readers will scroll on...

Anyway, having dropped the name dropping, I made my third call to the radio in as many days, while listening the other day I sent a photo I'd just taken of my desk area for a forum thread of similar views to the presenter Iain Lee. I called to see if he'd actually looked at it (and others I've sent) and he pointed out how messy it was. I said you're right, I often have to do my work on my lap, which he took completely the wrong way. In a flash I realised there was a little area available by the computer I could clear a space, and actually was able to write on my desk for the first time on almost 6 years since getting it. Funny how I'd never realised it was possible till he mentioned it. I've also got a final flurry of Christmas and e-Christmas cards, some from people I'd long thought had vanished, which I though was pretty amazing. It shows (after talking about the types of my numerous phone calls yesterday) sometimes apparently lost causes of the minor and sometimes even major types can be recovered. Sadly none were of the female type, but at least means a few more old friends are thinking about me. Celebrity wise I have a number I've passed my written work along to, but though I'll be unlikely to get a reply over the holidays something tells me not one is going to anyway. Prove me wrong Jenny Eclair...

Anyone listen to The Archers? (come on, you can listen on the internet now and it is a national institution). Here is
the location. Anyway, my search for aliens has come a step closer, as the new character Amy, the vicar's daughter sounds like a smurf, but more high pitched and nasal. As smurfs don't exist, she definitely doesn't sound human, so maybe we have the first little bit of evidence placed in a prominent place we may not be alone. Mind you, putting someone on the radio who sounds like Joe Pasquale on helium with a Northern accent can only be as a figure of fun, as no serious producer would genuinely employ someone sounding so bizzare on any programme worldwide, unless subtlely slipped in, with no awareness by the poor actress, as a conversation piece. The only comparitive voice I've ever heard (and one all my two American readers will be familiar with) is the great Kathryn Janeway, captain of Star Trek Voyager. She has more than a hint of Woody Woodpecker in her tone, but her enormous talent has managed to work despite this affliction, unlike the totally bizarre squeaking this woman produces.

One rare piece (currently) of good news today was I drove up a main road about a mile long where they'd just removed all the restrictions, mainly at least 7 mini roundabouts. This is the first and probably only council in Britain to remove road restrictions, but sadly my own just compensated by putting humps on the only road into my estate from the north a couple of weeks earlier. I'd wait till one of these councillor's (I was going to use another c word but this is a nice blog) wive's was about to give birth, and put her in the back of an ambulance at 60 mph and drive over all those fucking humps! (I didn't say how nice it was here...). After she'd had a suitably dangerous experience, she may quietly suggest to her husband who put them there they may not quite be such a good idea as he thought. In Africa (from what I've seen on TV) countries either don't have roads at all or pretty good ones, as when they are built they are built properly. Ours were tracks 1000 years ago that just got tarmaced over and besides the few decent roads that tend to fizzle out into single lanes half way along, I've never been to a country with worse. Then to pepper them with humps and narrowings when you couldn't do much more than 20 mph over many anyway is just sadism. If my neighbouring Barnet council become followed by any other council maybe the tide can turn. Remember, green fans, public transport has to drive over humps as well. They're just wrong!