Now that's what I call broadcasting

Hello.

 I sometimes listen to the radio.

Okay, that's a really banal statement, but you'll see where I'm going with this in a minute.

Anyway, the other day I was listening to  BBC Radio 4, when suddenly, an article about soft drugs came on.  The broadcaster in question was speaking about the beauty of 'weed bags'. Yes, I-SHIT-YOU-NOT, there was a fully grown man, on a national radio station, almost at the point of orgasm... over little polythene baggies used to store cannabis in. According to the aforementioned bloke, Weed bags should be "Stored in a museum, so people of the future can fully appreciate the beauty and hedonism of the 21st century." Apparently for him; "Finding them on the floor gives me a tiny insight into the mysteries of a total stranger's life."

Yeah, I wasn't quite sure I was fully awake either, but after establishing that I'd not nodded off after eating a large quantities of Brie, I realized that I bloody love the BBC.

Not only do I want to hunt down Mr Weed-Bags and force him to teach Year 10 PHSCE in Leeds secondary schools, but I also want to hugely thank the BBC for spending tax payer's money on gems like this. 

I smile a little to myself every night in the thought that 'Hard working British tax payers' like this man here:

 are paying for the casual Radio 4 listener to be informed of the beauty of Weed bags.

So let's forget about scandals involving Jimmy Saville, Andrew Sachs and senior Tory MP's, The BBC is worth every single penny of tax payer's money. 

Aunite Beeb deserves a bit of love. 

                                          

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Hey, last night I went to go see a fantastic production of Tennessee William's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the West Yorkshire profile, courtesy of The Guardian,  and they published my review!! But because I'm so completely un-original I thought I'd publish it here too:

 The scene was set. On stage, a fan whirred monotonously round, doing little to dispel the thick soup of the Mississippi delta air, or the sense of frustration at the forefront of everything.

Maggie flounced on stage, and so 3 hours in the company of the dysfunctional and deeply unhappy Pollitt family began.

Admittedly this is not the smoothest of metaphors, but the only thing I can liken the play to is a 1950’s style EastEnders. Although Phil Mitchell fails to make a surprise cameo and denounce the Pollitts as liars in a booming cockney accent, he may well have done. All the parallels are there. Suicide, alcoholism, homophobia, a loveless marriages and deceit.  Lots, and lots of deceit.

The whole play is centred on the various family members lying to each other. Brick lying to Maggie, Maggie lying to Big Momma, Big Momma lying to Big Daddy, Big Daddy lying to Gooper and so forth.

All this is done with the utmost precision from the cast.  Zoe Boyle’s portrayal of cat like Maggie, oozing sexiness and beguilement is darkly contrasted to Jamie Parker’s portrayal of Brick and his cold indifference to anything but whiskey.

 Although not always mentioned in a review, it’s hard to imagine what the play would have been like without the score of lurking bass and crashing cymbals, courtesy of the Leeds Improvised Music Association.

To say that a few skeletons are un-earthed during the course of the play is an under-statement. Skeleton after skeleton surfaces from the dark waters of the Mississippi- and hit the audience right where it hurts.  In one scene, Brick lurches at Maggie with a chair, and narrowly misses sending her sprawling to the floor.  This sent up an uneasy ripple of laughter from the audience, which I found very disturbing.  Perhaps it is because Brick’s chair forced us to reflect upon our own lives, and realize that sometimes we are not so different from the Pollitt family.  Ensuring that long after the set was dismantled, and the saxophonist caught the bus home, the story of Cat On a Hot Tin Roof would lurk somewhere at the back of our minds.

If anyone else went to see it, feel free to comment below, I'd love to hear everybody's thoughts.

You can see it on the guardian site here, and add comments there too. 

*Also, sorry about the strange font arrangement- my laptop is menstruating.

My life is now complete

Okay, I'll apologize in advance for this blog post. I've been a fan of Radiohead since the tender age of 11 and could probably do them as a specialist subject on Mastermind.

Anyway, I SAW RADIOHEAD LIVE LAST NIGHT! 

I know! I still can't believe it either.  

And guess what.........?

                                    THEY WERE BEYOND AMAZING!!!

And I don't say that lightly either. Even my Mum who is a staunch hater of any band that uses more than four chords in  a song had a good night. 

After Caribou had finished their set, Thom introduced the band with "Hello, I'm lady gaga!" and they stormed  straight into Lotus Flower. Manchester arena was up on it's feet screaming and doing Thom's dance. At this point my brain exploded. It really did, and plastered itself JFK style all over the neighboring seat.  

The rest of the night involved lots of dodgy dancing, several life affirming moments, Jonny Greenwood's fringe and a bit of vomit. 

I think the whole night can be summed up with a transcript of the conversation between the blokes sat behind us. 

Bloke 1: "The fact that they can play with two percussionists in such an odd time sig...."

Thom Yorke: "We're going to play a really, really old song now."

Bloke 2: "OHMIGODSHUTUP THEY'RE PLAYING PLANET TELEX!!

 I can assure that the other 21,000 people singing along to Paranoid Android had a good night. Not only was the set beautiful and the songs perfect, the musicianship was seamless. I understand that Radiohead aren't everybody's cup of tea, but you can't say that they're not good musicans because they really, really are. In fact the whole night was just brilliant. Every single second of it.

Anyway, I'll stop orgasaming over Radiohead and let you eat your tea, but before I go I would also like to remind you that it it's Thom Yorke's 44th birthday today, so happy birthday, you legend. He head a 'Free tibet' flag over one of his amps. You can't get more awesome than that. 

If you'd like to find out more about my night in Manchester, checkout the setlist here, some reviews of the gig here and here and the rest of the tour dates here! 

The revolution is live

As you know, I occasionally have a stab at some DIY poetry....and if it's not completely rubbish it ends up on here.

So, here is a poem I have cobbled together entitled 'The revolution will be televised' as a tribute to the late Gill Scott-Heron. It was inspired by a recent Philip Larkin reading I went to at Ilkley literature festival, and of course Gill Scott-Heron himself. 

Now I hope everyone here is familiar with the legend that is Gill Scott-Heron, jazz musician and soul poet. His works were mainly about consumerism in 1970's/1980's America, and racial segregation.  He's someone that inspires me greatly, and I was incredibly sad when he passed away on the 27th of May 2011. I just wished he was still alive now, to witness the effects of the Arab Spring, and an underground revolution amongst the youth of Russia!

But anyway, here it is. 

The revolution will be televised,

In 4 parts on prime time ITV2,

Sponsored by Wonga.com with an interest rate of 4214 percent.

The revolution will be televised.

The revolution will be televised,

Hashtag revolution

With a facebook page and multiple tumblrs,

Highlights published in newspapers owned by Rupert Murdoch,

The revolution will be televised.

The revolution will be televised,

Featuring soundtrack by Adele, Coldplay and Gary Barlow doing a closed fist open fist key change,

Page 3 models will make philosophical comments,

And the revolution will be televised.

The revolution will be televised,

With a montage of the Olympics and Mo Farrah’s twin girls.

Margaret Thatcher as the first women prime minister and the elimination of the working class.

A disabled soldier will hand out awards,

Because the revolution will be televised.

The revolution will be televised,

And during the break refreshments will be available

 Drinks of caffeine mixed with cane sugar and chocolate sprinkles

Colonel Sanders grinning down, with sachets of ketchup and polyethene cutlery,

The revolution will be televised.

The revolution will be televised,

It will not feature sax solos from Gill Scott-Heron, because he passed away in the spring of last year.

                  Available from freeview, Sky T.V and other satellite providers,

The revolution will in fact, be televised. 

If you're interested in Gill's original song,  here's a brilliant montage I found on Youtube.  

Scotland and psychedelics

Eyyup campers!
I don't wanna bore you with holiday stories or anything,  but our annual family holiday was to sunny Glasgow this year!

The hotel was gorgeous and the Scots were friendly, however I had an interesting few days...as I mainly spent the holiday vomiting into a wastepaper basket and inspecting the Scottish National Health Service! In the end me and Mum had to go home early, but not before we went to the amazing Gallery of Modern art! 

We saw lots of really weird and wonderful exhibitions, including the handprint of one of my all time favourite authors!

Aldous Huxley himself. An author loved by millions, famed for his surrealist influenced novels and being off his head on Mescaline in the name of art and science. 

That's Scotland for you! 

Sisters, we salute you.

Hey Folks!

At this point, I'm sure you're all aware of er...Russia's pussy situation. (okay, stop laughing it's actually quite serious) 

If you haven't, you need to escape from whatever woodland you've been living in, and head over to 

http://www.amnesty.org.uk/pussyriot and http://freepussyriot.org/ pronto!

A balaclava clad Russian punk band, criticizing the Russian Orthodox church (and it's vice like hold over Russian politics) and Putin's regime, has been imprisoned for 2 years on the medieval charge of 'Blasphemy'.

Whilst you may not agree with gatecrashing a church service and singing punk songs, Pussy Riot's message is a far deeper one.

Their aim is to highlight what really happens underneath the veneer of Putin's regime. In recent years Russia seems to have been making small steps of progress towards respecting human rights, but this is clearly a crumbling facade.

Although now cruelly imprisoned, Pussy Riot have achieved their aim. Everyone from Paul McCartney to my Gran is watching Russia's every move, with the message that Russia is wrong, and the hope that Pussy Riot will be freed. 

So, whilst you're drinking a brew, all cosy and warm in bed tonight, spare a thought or two for the martyrs of Pussy Riot, in a freezing prison cell, missing their families, all in the name of free speech and punk rock, whilst Putin relaxes in comfort and grandeur. 

                                                             Girl Power!! 

We didn't do too badly, did we?

So, the Olympics are over.
That's it for another 4 years, but bloody hell, we went out with a bang.
Now I'm not your stereotypical patriot. I don't have 'England '66' tattooed in fading ink across my bicep. I'll never sacrifice my life or kill another human being in aid of my country. I don't hate The Queen, but I'm not her biggest fan either, and I certainly do not agree with the amount of taxpayer's money we spend on her each year. I'll also happily admit that I don't attend church on Sundays, and my stint as a Girl Guide was short lived.
However, during two weeks in the middle of August, I felt quite proud of our tiny little island.
Our tiny little island that is famous for it's class system, sarcasm, and the national drink of some Chinese leaves in hot water,  which will now be remembered for the Olympics.

As I've said before on this blog, the London 2012 Olympics are far from perfect, but we did a pretty decent job! We hosted them with a smile (albeit sometimes a forced one), which turned into mild surprise when we ended up 3rd in the medal table with 29 gold, 17 silver and 19 bronze medals, and realized that we are much better at sport than Eurovision.

So anyway, I'll stop rabbiting on about my national pride, and give the closing ceremony a mention.

Other than the questionable decision of inviting One Direction, Jessie J, Take That, Ed Sheeran (who murdered a Pink Floyd song) The Spice Girls and er... Naomi Campbell (Blood diamonds anyone?) 

It was pretty damn good!
I'll refrain from making George Micheal jokes, but you really can't fault The Pet Shop Boys accidentally  dressed as The KKK!

Another highlight was 80,000 people erupting into John Lennon's Imagine, whilst a sculpture of his face was constructed  IKEA style with some white boxes.  Somewhat ironically, this was set to the background of some confused North Korean athletes, who will probably never understand peace, and unsurprisingly  won all the medals involving weapons. 

 

By far though, the best part of the night was Beady Eye's (sadly not Oasis, but you can never have it all) rendition of Wonderwall, which brought back memories of Year 8 music lessons and also brought a tear to my eye. 

The Who then played everybody out with My Generation, in an explosion of tears and confetti. 

At this point I received a text from one of my mates, enlightening me to the fact that the guy playing bass for The Who, was wearing a suit made of wool  from her parents factory. 

I shall take that as my Olympic claim to fame (however tenuous it may be) and politely decline to mention my wool allergy. 

                                                 So, that was the Olympics 2012.  

I shall leave you with a picture of some constipated divers.

  

Postcards from far away

Well, summer has been eventful so far!
As well as generally lazing around and drinking tea , I have been...er....watching the Olympics.

Now, I know what you're thinking. I have moaned incessantly about the Olympics, from the moment 7 years ago, on the 6th of July 2005 when we found out we'd won the bid. For 7 whole years, I have groaned, complained, protested and whinged. There's no denying that the Olympics isn't perfect, so far, there have been: deaths, un-acceptable and shameful corporate sponsorship,a horrific scandal concerning DOW chemical, and a cancelled Glastonbury! 

However we've also had Mr Bean playing a synthesiser,

 a gigantic 100ft Voldermort, 

15 gold medals for Team GB, 

                                             and er....Boris Johnson dangling from a zipwire. 

Only in Britain. 

So, as much as I want to hate the Olympics,  well...I'm actually quite enjoying them, and so far, the opening ceremony has been a highlight, I loved it, and I'm sure the 27 Million U.K. viewers and the rest of the world (even if some of the Korean viewers weren't quite laughing at the classic British humour) loved it too. Especially the Arctic Monkeys. (Or to be even more specific, Alex Turner.)

The only complaint I would have that whoever said "It's a small world" Has evidently never had to sit through the calling out of the countries at the opening ceremony...bloody hell, I managed to have 3 cups of tea just through the S's!  I swear at one point they were just making countries up to make sure Her Maj was awake. Poor sod, I wonder if she was allowed Gin in the stadium? 

We'll remember the opening ceremony for years to come, and if I was old enough to bet, I'd put £100 on Danny Boyle getting a knighthood. The word legend is overused, but not in this case. 

So yes, as much as I have moaned about the Olympics, I will be avidly watching from my sofa, eating some custard creams, but sadly not dreaming. Because any one who knows me well, will know that Fran and sports don't really mix. Okay, Fran and sports do not mix AT ALL. I cannot throw, I cannot jump and I most certainly cannot  run. The only sporting talents I posses are the ability to walk to the fridge plus some mouldy swimming badge, (that will be floating round in my Gran's knicker drawer) saying that I can jump into a large body of water in my pjamas, and swim breaststroke for 100m. 

I think even John Prescott doing the hurdles has more sporting talent than I can only dream of. 

So please don't hold your breath to see me at Rio in 2016. 

                                    

                 

Anyway, enough of my ranting, GOOD LUCK TEAM GB!

Love will er....set you free.

Hey there Kidiwinkies,
I realise that I have neglected this blog for a while, I am incredibly sorry.
I understand that some of you will have been feeling pain and depression to an extent that you have considered suicide, but do not worry because......

MY REVIEW ON EUROVISION 2012 IS FINALLY HERE!

Okay, so I realise that it's a full 11 days late, but you can't have everything.
Aside from Azerbaijan's appalling human rights record, it was actually alright this year. Well, funny bad anyway.

First of all, I would like to mention this bloke.

Engelbert Humperndinck (Affectionately nicknamed 'The Hump'.) 

Did we honestly think we had a chance of winning? He is 76. And wearing eyeliner.

His song was about 'how love will set us free'. Free from what Engelbert? The chains of a hip replacement?

We got 12 points, mostly because he didn't die on stage (although he came fairly close with that huge note at the end.) 

According to his official website (www.engelbert.com) he was 'the victim of political voting'.  Says it all really doesn't it?

Now on to Russia's entry.

Russia. A country not even in Europe. 

6 Grannies. 6 teeth. They sung a song called 'party for everybody'. Although the best bit was the scones. Half way through one of the Grannies took some scones out of an oven. Why they need scones I have no idea, unless Putin was hidden in the oven with a pistol, screaming "DANCE FOR MOTHER RUSSIA!"

Surprisingly they came second, although one of the Babushka's did not live to see the results. 

I have to say though, the highlight of the night was Graham Norton, and his comments about the legality of gay sex in Azerbaijan. What a legend. 

Sod Glastonbury, it's Disability that rocks!

Hey there campers,

Remember when I told you about disability rocks?

Well after months of careful planning and organisition, Disability Rocks was a total success! Even the unpredictable English weather rallied round and shone over Nell Bank. (I bet there are quite a lot of red necks this morning!)

There was everything from a brass band to a sensory yurt, and a drumming workshop to a silent disco. A particular highlight was the beethovens, an epic disabled band from Liverpool. I got roped into doing the satisfaction questionaires at the end, and AJ gave me a sneaky autograph!

I really didn't want to leave, I met so many amazing people and wish the party would have gone on for ever!

Hopefully there will a be a disability rocks next year, it's such a fantastic idea that can only go up from here!

If you want to find out more about disability rocks, go to:

www.disabilityrocks.org

                                                  www.mumtochromoboy.blogspot.co.uk
                                         
 www.thelunaticshavetakenovertheasylum.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04-disability-really-does-rock.html

It's not the winning, it's the free buffet that counts.

Hello Folks!
I take it you all want to know what I've been up to?

Well, other than being up to ears in chemistry revision and having the Scooone/Scon debate with any one who'll listen (Scooone obviously) I went to the guardian offices and the Amnesty UK headquarters on Wednesday for the young human rights reporter of the year competition! That was 2 days I'll never forget, trust me!

4 Yorkshire girls dive head first in to London culture. Yeah, we got lost, yeah we set a carrier bag on fire with my straightners and yeah we went swimming and walked in on a fully naked woman with a beaver like an afro, but we also had an absolutely amazing time! (Yes, that really did happen, I fear it may have left lasting and irreparable emotional damage)

On the day before the awards we travelled up to London, went swimming and had a lovely Italian at Strada which I thoroughly enjoyed.

On the actual morning of the awards we had a journalistic workshop at the guardian offices and generally got treated like V.I.P's!! (Hey, we even got interviewed on camera!) After the workshop wegot a taxi up to the human rights action centre and heard some extremely inspirational speakers, amongst them was Martin Powell, an amazing performance poet, Jack Shenker, a hilarious and empowering journalist, and the lovely Ellie Crissell (who my 8 year old self desperately longed to meet) an ex-newsround presenter.

I was up against Georgia Gilholy, who wrote a really interesting article about Child Brides, and Alice Renynolds who wrote a a powerful article about labour camps in Vietnam. Unfortunately I was only runner up (Alice Reynolds was the deserving winner) but I'm just really honoured to have been there with the cream of British journalism.
It shows that contrary to what the scaremongerers think, the written word isn't dying out, and when used effectively really has the power to change lives. It was also a beacon of hope in a landscape ravaged by the recent collapse of the Murdoch empire.

So if anyone from amnesty or the guardian happens to be reading this blog, I'd just like to say thank you.

Also, here is a photo of me and Ella at the guardian offices for all you nosey people.

If anyone would like to read about the young human rights reporter competition further, here are some links:

  This is my article, (a copy of it also exists somewhere in the archives of this blog, if you fancy digging round) http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2012/may/14/human-rights-lower-secondary-award1?intcmp=239 

This an amazing piece the lovely Miss Shah wrote about our time at the guardian. (She deserves a medal!!) http://www.guardian.co.uk/teacher-network/teacher-blog/2012/may/15/teaching-schools?newsfeed=true

This is a piece Emily Drabble ( From the guardian teacher network) wrote abut the winning articles: http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2012/may/14/amnesty-human-rights-reporter-competition?intcmp=239

 And Finally, this is a piece about past, previous and future young human rights reporter competitions, and how to enter the 2013 competition, which I strongly suggest you do! 

http://www.amnesty.org.uk/content.asp?CategoryID=12085

Disability really does rock.

Ladies and Gentlemen, lend me thine ears!

This post is about disability.

Disability can be many things. It can mean a physical disability like paralysis, or motor neurone disease, or it can be a learning disability like Autism or downs syndrome. There are some disabilities with obvious symptoms, and some that aren't that visible.

I guarantee you though, that you will not regret letting someone disabled into your life. 

I know a little boy called Max Sutton. He is the most amazing child  you could ever wish to meet.

 

He loves cricket, badminton, his hamster Leo and standing in his pants like he runs the world.  Not even Paul McCartney has as much swagger as Max Sutton does.

(Read all about him at www.mumtochromoboy.blogspot.co.uk) 

Max Rocks. He knows he does. And Max thinks that disability rocks. Which is why his parents, Caroline and Richard Sutton have created a festival to rival the mighty Glastonbury. 

After having a bit of an epiphany whilst on holiday in Ibiza, Caroline and Richard realised that there weren't any disability friendly music festivals in Yorkshire, and decided to do something about it. 

Tickets are only £15 (£10 for young people and disabled folk) and the line up is spectacular, it has everything from bearded men with guitars, to witty comedians, to drum workshops to a 5 piece Jazz band.

All situated in the best place on earth; Nell bank, West Yorkshire.

So, what exactly are you waiting for? Get yourself off to http://www.disabilityrocks.org  and go buy tickets. Buy tickets for yourself, as a present,  just go buy tickets. All the profits go towards local disability initiatives, but you better act fast, tickets are selling faster than Lady Gaga's knickers.

What are you still doing here? Shoo.

Fame isn't all it's made out to be.

I guess you want to know all about my little stint on Emmerdale??!

Well It was soggy, cold and wet. I got up at 6:00am.  The whole thing consisted of me walking from point A to B a multitude of times. In the cold. In a wool jumper. Those of you who know me, know that I don't mix well with wool. Bearded men shouted 'Action' a lot, and I didn't recognise anyone famous from Emmerdale, although everyone was very friendly and gave us breakfast.

I don't think I'm cut out for acting.

Someone make me a brew?

The human race is one big party.

Hello Folks!
This is gonna be a quick little post. I really really want to have a mammoth rant about North Korea's nuclear weapons. However I do not have time, so I shall have to restrain myself and save it for later.

On the other hand though, I do have some good news!

Tomorrow I'm going to be an extra in Emmerdale!!

Acting wasn't on my career path, (Jouranalist, Poet, Politician and world famous guitarist were) but hey ho! Beggars can definitely not be choosers!)

Yay with knobs on! When people ask me the 'what is your claim to fame?' question, I ACTUALLY HAVE AN ANSWER!
I am famous! Up there with the likes of Thom Yorke, Morissey, Jarvis cocker and....er Susan Boyle.

Bow down to me folks, bow down.

If anyone from Royal Mail is reading this right now, you may need to send special services out, so you can deliver the vast mountains of fan mail coming my way.

Also, a quick thank you to Mr Foley for making this possible. He's full of surprises that one.

Keira Knightley, watch out, I'm after your crown.

Modesty is such an admirable quality.

Snow flakes from Russia.

Hello there,
I still can't believe that less than 3 days ago, the sun was shining down over all of us, so hot that I burned, and now it's snowing.

The snow is beautiful, it's not sticking yet, but the flakes are raining down thick and fast, in little flurries and swirls. It's made me hibernate in the dark of my room, just watching the snow from my window. I've put all my radiohead albums away, and swapped them for piano music. My trusty telecaster has been downed, and I've dusted off my old acoustic to play Bon Iver songs. I want to be a tiny little embryo again.

Doesn't it look cosy?

Anyway, never mind the old English habit of rambling on about the weather, there are more pressing issues here. If you don't want your little bubble of happiness shattering, look away now. 

Russia. They've done it again. Yep, Russia. Everyone's favourite *coughs* Ex Fascist (sorry, Communist) country. The very same that's indirectly slaughtering thousands of Syrians, the same Russia that's put thousands of innocent people in prison due to it's corrupt political system. Well, Russia have scored again!

They're trying to 'Ban' Homesexual 'Propoganda' (Whatever the hell that is?!)  That basically stops LGBT people from speaking out in public. As the Russian government deems it 'a form of peadophila'. Usually I'd include a link for you to go to take action about this, but sadly the laws have been passed, and with Russia's AMAZING human rights record on freedom of speech, there's not a lot anyone else can do either!

All is not lost though, slightly closer to home, the gay marriage debate rages on, with seemingly no sign of ending. Now I could write pages and pages about gay marriage. I could rant endlessly, but I shall try to restrain my self.  Okay, so some M,P's and religious leaders believe that legalising gay marriage in Britain would 'undermine the institution of marriage'. So Sinead O' Connor can divorce her 4th husband after 16 days, and that's fine, but two people who love each other and happen to be of the same sex, and wish to be married is not? Don't give me a load of crap religious excuses,  LOVE is LOVE.  Has anyone ever asked God about his stance in gay marriage? No. All we have to go on is some moribund religious text that's 2,000 years old. The pope hates gays, and yet he is a man, in a dress. Hypocritical, no?

So, even if we can't help Russia just yet, we can help our folks back at home,  go sign the petition for Equal Marriage in the U.K at http://www.equallove.org.uk/

I promise it will make you a better person.

And for all those who disagree....

Love your inner lesbian.

Awkward Introductions.

Hello stranger.

I am no longer a blog virgin! So, now for the awkward introductions. You know the ones, awkward hug handshake combos, being a vegetarian at a meat conference,  etcetera, etcetera......

Well, my name (or at least my pseudonym for all you potential peadophiles out there) is TheOxygenJunkie. And I'm currently writing this blog from my teeny tiny bedroom  somewhere in the North of England.  I have the bog standard life of every working class teenager in England, but occasionally (Usually every Third Thursday in Months with the letter 'O' in them) interesting things DO happen to me.

 So, here's to many more rants and blog posts to come.