Separated At Birth?

One of Louise's friends told her I look like Bruno Mars.

Now I'm a 39 year old indie rock nerd, I'll admit it: I had to google Bruno Mars. I don't think I'd have recognised him if I'd tripped over him in the street. However, if I had tripped over him in the street, I seriously doubt that my first thought would have been, "Oh my god - I just stumbled on my own doppelganger!"

You may not be familiar with Bruno Mars either (or alternatively, you might actually be down with da kids... in which case, what the heck are you doing reading this blog?) so I produced the handy photo comparison above to help you make up your own mind. Yes, that's correct, I'm the one on the right.

I'm not sure... but the way I look at it, there appears to be one significant difference between Mr. Mars and myself (beyond the obvious fact that he's young and good-looking). Yes, he has a much better quiff than me. I am Jack's jealous spleen.

When I was in high school - this was pre-quiff days, back when I had a nice side-parting (sorry, all photos were destroyed after the court case) - people used to tell me I looked like Adam Carrington from Dynasty.

I had certain problems with this comparison too. Adam Carrington was a good 20 years older than me at the time and had smouldering soap star looks. I was 17, overweight, with acne. Also: I wasn't a complete knob. Well, I didn't think so anyway. My classmates may have disagreed...

The only lookalikey comparison I've ever been remotely flattered by was when someone once told me I reminded them of David Boringass, aka Angel from Buffy The Vampire Slayer. However, the individual in question was very drunk at the time and when I reminded them of said remark several days later, once they'd sobered up, they wouldn't stop laughing for a whole minute. At which point they swore off alcohol forever.

Which famous people could you pass for in a darkened room? Have you ever thought of signing up for a lookalike agency? What's the most flattering - or horrifying - comparison you've ever heard? Do tell...

The Top Ten Fat Songs

The news keeps telling us we're living through an Obesity Epidemic. Britain and the USA are the worst offenders - apparently half the UK will be clinically obese by the year 2030.

Personally, I think if your weight is making you miserable, or affecting your day-to-day health... then do something about it. But if you're happy as you are - well, life's too short not to have that extra helping of pudding. You might be hit by a bus tomorrow. And the more padding you have, the more chance of survival.

Here's 10 songs to help you celebrate letting your belt out one more notch...

10. The Fat Boys & Chubby Checker - The Twist

(From 'The Best Of The Fat Boys'.)

Everyone laughed at The Fat Boys, but the Fat Boys had the last laugh when they became a huge success with their humorous rapping and human beatbox performances. Sadly, one of the Fat Boys died of a heart attack aged only 28. The other two appear to have slimmed down a little since then.

9. Chris Difford - Fat As A Fiddle

(From 'The Last Temptation Of Chris'.)

Now I have tits just like my mum
I'm out breath before I run
I like to eat because it's fun
But it comes at such a price.

I'm on the old brown rice and the herbal tea for the greater part of me.

If ever there were any doubt that Chris Difford is one of our greatest living lyricists...

8. Black Grape - Fat Neck

(From 'It's Great When You're Straight ... Yeah'.)

I dunno, I reckon if I had Shaun Ryder telling me I had a fat neck - I mean, Shaun Ryder! - that'd probably send me down Weightwatchers. The government ought to appoint him as Minister For Health. He'd sort out the obesity epidemic quick smart.

7. Babybird - 45 & Fat

(From 'Ugly Beautiful'.)

I'm working on my middle-aged spread so that in a few years time I can adopt this as my theme song. Pizza for tea last night - fish and chips for lunch today!

Stephen Jones claims here that he'll "sing about love until he's 45 and fat". He must have changed his mind, otherwise he'd have quit three years back. Phew!

6. Fats Domino - The Fat Man

(From 'Greatest Hits: Walking To New Orleans'.)

They call him the Fat Man - 'cos he weighs 200 pounds
But all the girls love him, 'cos he knows his way around

I bet Cee Lo Green can sympathise...

5. Queen - Fat Bottomed Girls

(From 'Jazz'.)

There were those who accused Queen of sexism back when this record was released in 1978. Oh yes, those enlightened ultra-pc days of the 70s! Compared to the likes of Sir Mixalot, Freddie and the gang's attitude now seems tame and quaint. Also - Freddie Mercury: sexist? Puh-lease.

4. Bad Manners - Lip Up, Fatty

(From 'Bad Manners'.)

Ah, Buster Bloodvessel. The world's unlikeliest pop star. The history of pop just wouldn't be the same without his boiler-suited girth. OK, Buster, you can put your tongue away now. Please.

3. Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine - Sheriff Fatman

(From 'Straw Donkey: the Singles'.)

Someone call up Roger Cook and The United Nations!

2. Morrissey - You're The One For Me, Fatty

(From 'Your Arsenal'.)

Say what you want about Morrissey, but he knows his fanbase. He knows its made up of the lonely, the unpretty, the people who feel they don't quite belong, the freaks and geeks. (Hey, I should know.) And just as he reached out and put his arms around the wheelchair-bound "monster" spawned in November, here he gives a big hug to everyone who knows that Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others. For someone who hates the human race as much as Morrissey appears to, he's a mass of contradictions.

1. The Beautiful South - Perfect 10

(From 'Quench'.)

Here's a healthy response to the weight issue, from Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott...

If he's extra large - well, I'm in charge

I can work this thing on top

And if he's XXL - well, what the hell?

Every penny doesn't fit the slot

The anorexic chicks - the model 6...

Don't hold no weight with me

Well 8 or 9, yeah, that's just fine

I like to hold something I can see

It's obviously a subject close to Heaton's waistline as he released his debut solo album 'Fat Chance' under the pseudonym 'Biscuit Boy'.



OK, put down that cake and tell me your favourite fat song in the comments... and while you're getting interactive, don't forget to vote in this week's Title Fight - which is your favourite 'Drive' song?

Movie Review - The Inbetweeners

A lot of movie comedies leave me cold. I find I enjoy the performances but wish the script could be sharper to match. The worst offender is often big screen adaptations of successful TV sitcoms. What works well in tight 30 minute slices often feels stretched and bloated to fill 2 hours. So I went into The Inbetweeners movie expecting the chuckles to be as sparse as the sexual conquests. Thankfully, the lads blew my expectations. This is one funny film... as long as The Inbetweeners is your kind of funny.

Like the TV show that spawned it, The Inbetweeners is immature, indecent, icky and idiotic. Much has been written about why the adventures of four sexist and sexually inept Sixth Formers should have captured the nation's heart so, but the reasons are obvious. We all knew lads like this at school - hell, many of us were lads like this at school... and probably still wish we could be. There's the pedantic geek (guilty), the lovestruck sap, the inveterate bullshitter and the big dumb oaf with a heart of gold. We all love a loser - because that's how most of us felt in high school. But by the time we hit the Sixth Form, we'd usually found our niche - and mates who'd stay with us forever.

Much of the Inbetweeners humour is near-the-knuckle or downright crude, but it's rarely cruel. It kicks political correctness in the goolies yet never feels offensive. Largely that's because our four straight white male heroes are buffoons, so we're laughing at their attitudes and opinions as much as their antics. And for all their gross-out sex-talk and objectification of women, the girls they encounter are usually smarter, sassier and cooler than any of the Inbetweeners could ever hope to be.

I never went on an 18-30 holiday with my mates, but this film is exactly how I'd imagine such an experience. (People I know who did say it's spot on.) It's hideous... yet also heartwarming. These are the very best of times, and the worst, and The Inbetweeners movie captures that sense of joyful camaraderie you'll either fondly recall from your schooldays... or wish wholeheartedly you could have experienced. Sprinkle liberally with graphic jokes about masturbation, deviation, regurgitation and defecation - plus lashings of humiliation - and it's an experience you'll remember for the rest of your life.

My only real complaint was that we didn't get more of Head of Sixth Form Mr. Gilbert. Greg Davies' opening speech must echo the unspoken thoughts of teachers across the land with its frank "I never liked any of you" message. Fortunately this isn't the very last we see of Mr. Gilbert... but maybe he could get his own spin off show now?

Title Fight - Drive

They've got the same title - but they're completely different songs.

My new Sunday blog feature pits them against each other... and you get to vote on the winner.

This week... which is your favourite 'Drive' song?

Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

(From 'The Cars - Greatest Hits'.)

Hey kids - rock 'n' roll!

(From 'Automatic For The People'.)

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes

(From 'Monuments And Melodies'.)

We should be racing from this murder scene
Like jets that cross the sky
Leaving our trails to fade and die

(From 'Night on Earth'.)

Daddy let me drive

(From 'Drive'.)

Go to sleep, my brothers
I'm alright to drive

You have till Friday to cast your vote - I'll reveal the results next Sunday.

Comics From Oxford (Part 1)

It's three weeks since I drove down to Oxford for my first ever Caption and I've only just got around to reviewing some of the excellent small press comics I picked up there. Where does the time go?

Andrew Cheverton's Pictures Made Of Light is a gorgeous little comic featuring some of Chev's best art to date (typically of comic book artists, Chev tells me he "can't bear to look at it it") on an enigmatic adaptation of a prose story he originally wrote for Elephant Words.

I've read this comic three times now and each time it reveals new layers of interpretation. Chev tells me he expects it'll infuriate many readers who will "throw it away and never buy anything I make again". Now how's that for a challenge?

Pictures Made Of Light is available to buy now (£2 including p&p) from The Angry Candy Store.

Crisp Biscuit Comics #1 collects a bunch of hilarious full colour 1-page strips from Rob Wells's Crisp Biscuit Blog. These include the time-wasting adventures of Jack Bowser, star of TV's 'Twenty Bore'; political satire featuring the alien takeover plans of D'Avid C'Ameron; movie spoofs like The Green C**k Ring and X-Men: Standard Parcels... and more. You could read them at Rob's blog... or you could pay him £2.50 and get a lovely paper copy sent to your home for you to love and cherish forever. I'd recommend the latter - because who wants to read comics on a computer?

Blood Magic is a gripping tale of witchcraft, family ties and sacrifice by Karen Rubins, produced as part of her Comics Artist residency at the Victoria & Albert Museum. And you can get a FREE copy (subject to availability) over at Karen's website... all you have to do is send her 50p for p&p. Bargain!

Sean Azzopardi's Nine Months Of Beige is another collection of sharp, funny, honest and touching musings from one of my favourite autobiographical comic creators. As always with Sean's comics, I found myself nodding my head in sympathy and agreement throughout. You can't put a price on that kind of creativity... but if you did, it'd be a well-spent £2.50 (plus postage) from Sean's shop.

More reviews of Comics From Caption to follow... as soon as I've read them.

Music I'm Listening To This Week

I should be forgiven for thinking that Stornoway were a new band from Scotland - not just from their name, or the fact that they sound a little like Belle & Sebastian (meets Mumford & Sons), but also because it was my old Glaswegian music blogger mate JC, The Vinyl Villain,who first brought them to my attention.

Turns out though they're actually from Oxford - home to Radiohead, Supergrass and my recent obsession. Wherever they hail from, they make a glorious summery sound on this single, and their album Beachcomber's Windowsillhas shot to the top of my Must Buy When I Have Some Money list.



A record I bought much earlier this year (when I had more money!) was the not-at-all-difficult second album from Fleet Foxes. Unlike many of the critics, their debut took a long time to grow on me, and only really made its mark with the release of the "bonus tracks" edition featuring the sublime Mykonos.

Helplessness Bluesowes an even greater debt to Simon & Garfunkel than its predecessor and includes a couple of lyrical moments that sneak up and mug you with their beauty, notably the title track's bridging refrain...

If I had an orchard,

I'd work till I'm raw
If I had an orchard,
I'd work till I'm sore

Maybe it's not grammatically ideal (and the linguistic pedant in me wants to quibble with their clumsy repetition of 'unique' in the same song's opening stanza), but it's a sentiment I think we can all get behind.

However, the Fleet Foxes song that's wedged itself in my head this week is this one, with its timely commentary on the education funding debate...

The borrowers debt is the only regret of my youth



Mentioning Simon & Garfunkel reminds me of the long-awaited new long-player from Paul Simon, So Beautiful Or So What.Now in his 70th year, Simon was seen recently grouching on the Glastonbury sofa that his voice isn't what it used to be. Well, neither are my ears, Paul - but I'm damned if I can hear any kind of deterioration from the voice I fell in love with as a teenager (when you'd already been using it for 25+ years).

The best thing about the new Paul Simon album is that he's written a song about Jay-Z (I can't wait for Jay-Z's riposte... "I'm Wearing Diamonds From The Soles Of Paul Simon's Shoes"?) but that's not the one I've chosen to feature here. No further explanation should be necessary...



I stumbled across this next track during a completely random youtube search. If you're a fan of the deep south soundtrack of the Coen Brothers movie O Brother, Where Art Thou? then I think you'll dig The Civil Wars too. Barton Hollowcomes from the album of the same name.



This week's music has been all very folky and melodious so let's finish with something completely different... and so wrong it hurts. A greasy, spotty, belching chunk of shamelessly juvenile, spectacularly un-pc, nerd-rap-rock from the late 90s. Ladies and gentlemen, it's The Bloodhound Gang... from the album, ahem, Hooray For Boobies.

You and me, baby, ain't nothing but mammals

So let's do it like they do it on the Discovery Channel...

My New Office

For far too many years, the view out my office window looked like this...

Now I'm the Word Wrestler, I'm working from home, and the view from my office window looks like this...

That's what I call an improvement!

Not only that, I've just moved my office from the attic to the box room / 3rd bedroom. While the attic satisfied my "lonely writer in his draughty garret" fantasies, it didn't quite have the view and often felt a little isolating. My new office feels both more professional and far more inspiring... the words are already beginning to flow!

I questioned whether anyone would be interested in seeing my new office... but then I realised that if I were reading your blog, and you did a feature on the room where you write... I'd be fascinated. But unless you put your house on the market and I pretend to be a prospective buyer just for the sake of coming round for a nosy, I'm probably unlikely to ever see it. Unless you fancy responding with a post of your own...

Here's the view from the opposite side of the room. Yes, I have a lot of books. That should hardly come as a surprise. In case you're wondering, the comics are still up in the attic. Yes - that's my new Comic Room!

(If Louise is reading this, I'm joking. Really. Don't hit me. Please. Not again.)

Movie Review - Super 8

I'm late reviewing Super 8, so I have little time left to convince you to go see the best film of the summer before it departs our multiplexes... but if you're one of those people who believes "they don't make 'em like they used to when I was a kid" and you were a kid back in the 1980s, you really are missing a treat.

JJ Abrams has recaptured the spirit of movies like The Goonies, Back To The Future, ET and Gremlins in this heartwarming monster movie that, yes, may veer ever so slightly off the tracks into schmaltz (particularly with its 'Our Two Dads' subplot) but ends up no worse for that. Because, you know what? Those films we love from the 80s came with a fair slice of schmaltz too... but they also made you care. And I cared about this film more than I have any other movie of the summer.

Watching Super 8, I yearned for my youth. Abrams could easily have told this story in the present day, but it wouldn't have had half as much charm. I live a big chunk of my life on the internet, yet still I found myself longing for simpler days when the most complex bit of tech in a teenager's bedroom was a handheld Pac Man, when kids made models and played vinyl records and argued with their siblings over what to watch on the only TV in the house. Rose-tinted nostalgia? Perhaps... I do remember the first time I saw Back To The Future back in 1985 thinking how much better it would have been to grow up in the 50s with Marty McFly's parents... Hollywood only ever reminds us of the good times in movies like this... but is that really such a bad thing?

I couldn't help but sympathise with the Sheriff Pruitt when he told a youth with a clunky cassette Walkman... "kids walking round with their own stereos is the last thing we need - it's a slippery slope!"

Top Ten Spelling Songs

One of my missions in life now that I'm the world's first official Word Wrestler is to clean up bad spelling on the internet. So to help out, here's ten singalong spelling lessons from rock and pop...

10. Carla Thomas B-A-B-Y

(From 'The Platinum Collection'.)

We'll start with an easy one, and theoretically one of the first words we should all learn to spell. A classic slice of Atlantic soul from Carla.

9. The Fall - C.R.E.E.P.

(From '50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong: 39 Golden Greats'.)

What kind of creep has got Mark E. Smith's goat?

His oppression abounds, his type is doing the rounds
He is a scum-egg; a horrid trendy wretch

We need more songs with the word "scum-egg" in the lyrics, regardless of the spelling.

8. Jimmy Ruffin - As Long As There Is L-O-V-E

(From Hold On To My Love.)

Another easy one, probably the most spelled song in the history of pop. Few are the artists who spell it L-U-V... most notably Slade, but Noddy Holder's spelling was always atroshuss.

See also L-O-V-E (Love) by Al Green or Edwyn Collins and Orange Juice.

7. Piney Gir - K.I.S.S.I.N.G.

Sadly, I can't find Piney Gir's wonderful sitting-in-a-tree song anywhere on youtube, but you can hear it on her hugely entertaining debut album Peakahokahoo(eat that, spellchecker!)

Mansun are practising the same word, but they spell it K.I. Double S. I.N.G.

6. John Cougar Mellencamp - ROCK In The USA

John Mellencamp spells out a tribute to 60s rock from one of my favourite albums of the 80s, Scarecrow.

5. Pulp - F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A.L.L.E.D. L.O.V.E.

Jarvis decides that sex is the best way to teach spelling, on the sleaziest track from Different Class.

And as I'm standing across this room

I feel as if my whole life has been leading to this one moment.

And as I touch your shoulder tonight

This room has become the centre of the entire universe.

4. Tammy Wynette - D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

(From 'Stand By Your Man: The Very Best Of Tammy Wynette'.)

Tammy spells out the words she doesn't want her son to understand in this classic country heartbreaker. Billy Connelly spells the same message a little differently.

3. Noah & The Whale - L.I.F.E. G.O.E.S. O.N.

(From 'Last Night on Earth'.)

Charlie Fink's story about Little Lisa Loony Tunes owes a sizable debt to Walk On The Wild Side, but that doesn't stop it from spelling out one of the catchiest singles of the year.

2. Aztec Camera - How Men Are

(From 'The Best of Aztec Camera'.)

Wait... shouldn't that be H.O.W. M.E.N. A.R.E.?

No, it should be P.E.R.S.P.E.C.T.I.V.E. - definitely the longest word I've asked you to spell today. Roddy Frame handles it with style.

Why should it take the tears of a woman

To see how men are?

1. Aretha Franklin - R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

(From 'Queen Of Soul - The Best of Aretha Franklin'.)

Otis wrote it, Aretha made it live forever.

Find out what it means to me...



This concludes today's spelling test... unless you have anything you'd like to add? Pity no one ever wrote a song called... A.N.T.I.D.I.S.E.S.T.A.B.L.I.S.H.M.E.N.T.A.R.I.A.N.I.S.M.
...or did they?

The Captcha Code

I don't know about you, but I object to the fact that whenever I'm given a captcha code to fill out during my daily online meanderings, not only am I verifying my true identity as a human being rather than a robot, cyborg or a breakfast TV presenter... I'm also helping boffins decipher old texts.

A lot of those wavy captcha texts (particularly the ones you struggle to decipher and often end up keying in the wrong word and having to pick an alternative) are taken straight from digitised books, magazines and sacred scrolls... and because computers are too dumbass to read them properly, us human lackeys are being made to do their job - for free!

I object to this on two fronts: firstly, now I'm self-employed, I want paying for my work as a translator - I reckon five quid per captcha isn't too much to ask; and secondly... this all feels a little Dan Brown to me. Not only do I not want anyone to mistake me for Tom Hanks... but what if I accidentally decipher a captcha that foretells the end of the world... 40 days of rain (or worse, 40 days of frog rain)... or that Homebase will be closing early next Sunday?

How can I live with that kind of responsibility?

So in future, no more captcha codes for me. Apart from the one in the comments section on this blog. I promise there's no hidden text deciphering involved there.

Speaking of hidden codes - this week's thoughtballoons character is The Riddler (my choice), so do pop over to the thoughtballoons site and check out our 1-page scripts. My own offering, "Wise Men Fold", started the week... and there's more head-scratchers to come...

Oxford Comma

Being a huge fan of Inspector Morse, I wasn't about to let my recent trip to Caption go by without taking a little stroll around Oxford itself. It's a city I've always wanted visit... but would it live up to expectations?

Well, there certainly are some beautiful old buildings and wonderful examples of classic architecture. I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to architecture, hence my use of "classic" in that previous sentence rather than "Classical". Pedants beware!

I suppose I had it in my head that Oxford would be all old buildings, trapped in amber, time-warping me back to a long gone Golden Age of England as soon as I drove through the city limits. In places though, Oxford looks like any other city. I guess every high street needs a Superdrug.

Many of the actual colleges were either closed to the public - or charged a hefty entry fee that unemployed writers couldn't really justify paying - but I did get to walk through the grounds of Christ Church College and the Bodelian Library (above). Tempted as I was to shout, "Do hurry up, Lewis!" I kept quiet as a mark of respect... and because I generally get very annoyed by people who talk in libraries. As to those colleges I couldn't gain free entry to, I leaned through the gates and took a few photos anyway...

I began my tour very early on Sunday morning while the streets were reasonably quiet... but it wasn't long before I was joined by hordes of tourists. Every corner I turned, I met another group, guided by an old boy of Oxford (it was usually boys) sharing his knowledge of the city's history and heritage. As beautiful a place as Oxford undoubtedly is, I soon grew tired of all the sightseers with their cameras... particularly when they prevented me from getting decent photos of my own!

As the morning rumbled on, the skies over the dreaming spires grew cloudy and began to threaten rain... so I headed down to the river to catch a few shots that matched the Oxford in my head even more than the magnificent skyline...

Oxford, then: almost everything I'd hoped for. Just a disappointing lack of cunningly planned murders being foiled by grumpy misanthropic policemen and their thick Geordie sidekicks. You'd have thought they might have organised at least one after I'd driven all that way...