I was sitting in the waiting room. The dentist would see me next.
Another man was waiting. He was reading The Daily Rubbish. (I know, it's juvenile. But I've stopped giving links to lousy news outlets.)
All of a sudden - and I'm not sure if he was addressing me, the receptionist or himself - he declared that using a mobile phone for more than [who cares?] minutes per day can triple the risk of cancer.
Triple! That's bad - right?
Maybe.
I asked for the numbers. I confess, I engaged.
He didn't have them.
So we don't know the odds. Say the odds are one in a billion, give or take, er, one. Three times the risk would be three in a billion give or take three. I don't see the trebling as a problem.
If the odds were, say, one in ten - becoming three in ten - then I'd be concerned. But if that were genuinely the case, I'd expect to have seen more people keeling over by now.
Without the actual odds - with just the number the odds have been multiplied by - we have learned NOTHING. Sorry for shouting.
And, unless the survey included everyone who's ever lived on the face of the planet (which I think we can assume it didn't), then the numbers were calculated by choosing a group of people and assuming everyone's pretty much like them, on the whole. More or less.
Which means that there's some wiggle room in how accurate the numbers are. If the wiggle room is bigger than the number, then the number is MEANINGLESS. Sorry for shouting.
And if you don't know the numbers, the size of the wiggle room or the size of the group of people then all you know is how much bigger one MEANINGLESS number is than another MEANINGLESS number.
That's probably just going to give you a third meaningless number. You know, like that the risk of getting cancer from something has trebled.
Unemployment
There's a headline to excite people. (What follows is an example. These are not real numbers but they are broadly plausible and, with any luck, might be instrumental in making an interesting point.)
A survey has told us the percentage of people who work part-time but aren't looking for any more working hours. It's 68%. Is that a good statistic?
In my example scenario, one million people work part-time. And 68% of them don't want to work any more hours. Would you be pleased about that 68% figure? It's probably a high enough score to get a first-class honours degree.
But it would mean there are 320,000 people who are short of money because they don't have enough work.
Still think it's okay?
There's a time and a place for percentages. But when we're talking about suffering or financial instability for people, it's good to know just how many of them are being whacked round the head (figuratively, naturally).
End of maths lesson
But keep it in mind. Next time you see statistics, percentages and big numbers being wafted about as if they're important, try to work out what they actually mean. Often the answer is very little.
Wednesday, 14 May 2014
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Raiding the archive
It has recently come to my attention...
I was going to erase that opening but then I thought it was mildly amusing that my default setting this afternoon seems to be that of deputy headteacher about to hand out punishments for some crime or other.
Let's start again.
Being narcissistic, I was reading my recent articles, er, recently. And I noticed that, if you look at them on an Apple tablet, none of the embedded youTube videos work.
They don't tell you that they haven't worked. They just appear as a completely empty blank space as though the author was sent to sleep by his own writing and his head slumped on the 'return' key.
I can assure you that has not happened yet.
No, not yet. Here's what I think happened. Google has embedded the video as little boxes of Flash (you know, the saviour of the universe). And Apple has decided that it doesn't like Flash because, er, I've forgotten and who cares anyway. It was something about it crashing a lot and making their machines look bad.
Surely if I want to run rubbish software (which, incidentally, doesn't crash a lot on my PC or make it look bad), that's up to me? Maybe put a little bubble next to it saying "This is rubbish. We advise you not to use it. If you do and it's horrible, don't blame us."
But no. You can't have it. They know best.
Charlie Brooker
Charlie Brooker's excellent and generally wonderful series "Weekly Wipe" uses the cheeky device of pretending it's a six-episode series but then pulling a switcheroo and making episode six a compilation of the best bits of the previous five. You know, for those who've forgotten what they saw about a month ago and really want to watch it again now.
In tribute to him, here's an article I wrote about four years ago (get that, Charlie? YEARS! not weeks - YEARS!) about how Apple writes control-freak software.
I called it "Why Apple's iTunes is a demented butler who won't let you poach salmon in your dishwasher".
At about the time I wrote it and hawked it around a journal or two (actually it was one) who didn't want to publish it, Charlie himself wrote a (slightly) (all right, not very) similar article about Apple. I can't remember his. I'm not saying he copied me. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't have even seen mine.
And I joined Twitter to tell him about the hilarious similarity. Because, back then, I thought that was how Twitter worked.
That, in itself, slightly terrifies me. But I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.
No, that wasn't a typo. It was simple plagiarism. A prize to the first person who can tell me where I stole it from and who can promise that they didn't just look it up on Google.
I was going to erase that opening but then I thought it was mildly amusing that my default setting this afternoon seems to be that of deputy headteacher about to hand out punishments for some crime or other.
Let's start again.
Being narcissistic, I was reading my recent articles, er, recently. And I noticed that, if you look at them on an Apple tablet, none of the embedded youTube videos work.
They don't tell you that they haven't worked. They just appear as a completely empty blank space as though the author was sent to sleep by his own writing and his head slumped on the 'return' key.
I can assure you that has not happened yet.
No, not yet. Here's what I think happened. Google has embedded the video as little boxes of Flash (you know, the saviour of the universe). And Apple has decided that it doesn't like Flash because, er, I've forgotten and who cares anyway. It was something about it crashing a lot and making their machines look bad.
Surely if I want to run rubbish software (which, incidentally, doesn't crash a lot on my PC or make it look bad), that's up to me? Maybe put a little bubble next to it saying "This is rubbish. We advise you not to use it. If you do and it's horrible, don't blame us."
But no. You can't have it. They know best.
Charlie Brooker
Charlie Brooker's excellent and generally wonderful series "Weekly Wipe" uses the cheeky device of pretending it's a six-episode series but then pulling a switcheroo and making episode six a compilation of the best bits of the previous five. You know, for those who've forgotten what they saw about a month ago and really want to watch it again now.
In tribute to him, here's an article I wrote about four years ago (get that, Charlie? YEARS! not weeks - YEARS!) about how Apple writes control-freak software.
I called it "Why Apple's iTunes is a demented butler who won't let you poach salmon in your dishwasher".
At about the time I wrote it and hawked it around a journal or two (actually it was one) who didn't want to publish it, Charlie himself wrote a (slightly) (all right, not very) similar article about Apple. I can't remember his. I'm not saying he copied me. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't have even seen mine.
And I joined Twitter to tell him about the hilarious similarity. Because, back then, I thought that was how Twitter worked.
That, in itself, slightly terrifies me. But I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.
No, that wasn't a typo. It was simple plagiarism. A prize to the first person who can tell me where I stole it from and who can promise that they didn't just look it up on Google.
Monday, 12 May 2014
What's in a name?
Following on from my acclaimed previous blog post (What's in a word?), I proudly present to you What's in a name?
Let's pretend, for a moment, that there's a truly great, prolific, much-loved, award-winning and popular author called Archibald Flange.
(A quick Google search suggests that I'm safe to do what I like with this name. However, if it is your name and you feel offended by what follows, then let me know and I'll come up with something even less likely.)
Archibald Flange
For reasons that are no one else's business, Archie has got fed up with the whole writing circus. He's simply not going to write any more. He's earned enough to make himself comfortable and his back catalogue continues to sell well enough to keep him in food, wine and spirits.
He's looking for mischief.
He's going to do the exact opposite of J K Rowling.
Fast forward
Let's go forward a couple of years. Without his usual blaze of publicity - anecdotes on chat shows, readings at book signings, shaking hands with the Pope, etc - Archie has a new book out. (It's really mine but don't tell anyone.)
He blames new hips for his reluctance to venture out.
The sales are great.
Maybe the numbers aren't as high as for his previous few books.
The critics note a change in style, a new direction. The fans buy it regardless. Some of the less fervent fans decide to sit it out and wait till they can get it from the library or borrow it from a friend or hear at least three of their mavens tell them they just have to buy it, darling.
I offer to pay Archie a percentage. He laughs and tells me not to be so stupid. He asks me when the next one is coming out. He hasn't told anyone. Even his agent doesn't know.
Of course, this means that I have to be paid by Archie but that's no problem for him. Means I get a bit less because he's in a higher tax bracket but I'd rather have 60% of the royalties for my book with his name on the cover than 100% of the royalties for my book with my name on the cover.
How about my place in history? Ask me in ten years.
Would I be that mercenary?
Yes.
Anything else?
Dear Reader, would you feel cheated if you thought you'd bought Flange and got Tarnofsky? Even if you liked it?
What are the rules of adopting pen names? There must be plenty of examples of authors who genuinely have the same name - and someone must have accidentally adopted a famous pen name at some point.
It must be to do with the intention.
Maybe so - but why is misleading someone any better if you didn't know you were doing it?
I've been told that my short stories are reminiscent of the work of bestselling author Etgar Keret.
I would not do this
If I republished my short stories under the pen-name Etgar Keret (I really WOULD NOT do this) - and people bought them, and liked them, and thought that he'd written a really super collection of stories, then what harm has been done?
Plenty, clearly. Deliberate misleading of readers, potentially tarnishing Mr Keret's blameless and hard-earned good name.
It just feels wrong. But who has been harmed? People buying short stories that they thought they would like got short stories that they liked.
But I still wouldn't do it. It would feel like cheating.
What ever happened to Polaroid?
Was that too sudden a change in direction? Stay with me. I'll draw it together.
Polaroid was a world-famous, well-respected company for many years. They made instant cameras. (If you're under 25, you may wonder what I'm talking about. Try Wikipedia.)
Digital photography killed off their core business and the company was in various death throes for a while. It still hasn't died but its name has been sold off to be used on all sorts of ventures.
I have in my hand the box of a Polaroid light bulb. It says 'Polaroid' on the box and has their logo and contained one of the worst built light bulbs that I personally have ever had the misfortune to put into a light fitting. Yes, it came apart. You really don't want that from a light bulb.
A company which has been making high quality stuff for many decades - you'd trust them to know how to make a good light bulb. I mean - a light bulb! How hard can it be to churn these out? They're not exactly new technology. And this one was an old-fashioned hot bit of wire in a glass shell. The sort that Thomas Edison would have recognised.
His might have been better than this one.
But a company you've never heard of - would you buy their bulb? Instead of Phillips or Osram? Really?
I guess that's why they bought the right to use the word Polaroid.
I'm not accusing anyone of wrongdoing. They bought the name - they're entitled to use it. But maybe, just maybe, some people don't quite get what they're expecting.
So if I did the thing I said I wouldn't do...
...then I certainly wouldn't be the first. Hey Etgar - what percentage would you want? I'll have my people talk to your people.
(Suggestions for future episodes in the series are welcome. At the moment, I can only think of What's in a packet of crisps? - which, I think you'll agree, is unlikely to be of the same standard.)
Let's pretend, for a moment, that there's a truly great, prolific, much-loved, award-winning and popular author called Archibald Flange.
(A quick Google search suggests that I'm safe to do what I like with this name. However, if it is your name and you feel offended by what follows, then let me know and I'll come up with something even less likely.)
Archibald Flange
For reasons that are no one else's business, Archie has got fed up with the whole writing circus. He's simply not going to write any more. He's earned enough to make himself comfortable and his back catalogue continues to sell well enough to keep him in food, wine and spirits.
He's looking for mischief.
He's going to do the exact opposite of J K Rowling.
She used the pen name Robert Galbraith to see whether her writing would sell without her real name on it. Turned out it did. Not in earth-shattering numbers, but very respectably for the genre. (Of course, then the cat tore its way out of the bag, at which point some serious print runs were needed.)Archie is going to allow me to use his name for my next book. Thank you, Archie.
Fast forward
Let's go forward a couple of years. Without his usual blaze of publicity - anecdotes on chat shows, readings at book signings, shaking hands with the Pope, etc - Archie has a new book out. (It's really mine but don't tell anyone.)
He blames new hips for his reluctance to venture out.
The sales are great.
Maybe the numbers aren't as high as for his previous few books.
The critics note a change in style, a new direction. The fans buy it regardless. Some of the less fervent fans decide to sit it out and wait till they can get it from the library or borrow it from a friend or hear at least three of their mavens tell them they just have to buy it, darling.
I offer to pay Archie a percentage. He laughs and tells me not to be so stupid. He asks me when the next one is coming out. He hasn't told anyone. Even his agent doesn't know.
Of course, this means that I have to be paid by Archie but that's no problem for him. Means I get a bit less because he's in a higher tax bracket but I'd rather have 60% of the royalties for my book with his name on the cover than 100% of the royalties for my book with my name on the cover.
How about my place in history? Ask me in ten years.
Would I be that mercenary?
Yes.
Anything else?
Dear Reader, would you feel cheated if you thought you'd bought Flange and got Tarnofsky? Even if you liked it?
What are the rules of adopting pen names? There must be plenty of examples of authors who genuinely have the same name - and someone must have accidentally adopted a famous pen name at some point.
It must be to do with the intention.
Maybe so - but why is misleading someone any better if you didn't know you were doing it?
I've been told that my short stories are reminiscent of the work of bestselling author Etgar Keret.
I would not do this
If I republished my short stories under the pen-name Etgar Keret (I really WOULD NOT do this) - and people bought them, and liked them, and thought that he'd written a really super collection of stories, then what harm has been done?
Plenty, clearly. Deliberate misleading of readers, potentially tarnishing Mr Keret's blameless and hard-earned good name.
It just feels wrong. But who has been harmed? People buying short stories that they thought they would like got short stories that they liked.
But I still wouldn't do it. It would feel like cheating.
What ever happened to Polaroid?
Was that too sudden a change in direction? Stay with me. I'll draw it together.
Polaroid was a world-famous, well-respected company for many years. They made instant cameras. (If you're under 25, you may wonder what I'm talking about. Try Wikipedia.)
Digital photography killed off their core business and the company was in various death throes for a while. It still hasn't died but its name has been sold off to be used on all sorts of ventures.
I have in my hand the box of a Polaroid light bulb. It says 'Polaroid' on the box and has their logo and contained one of the worst built light bulbs that I personally have ever had the misfortune to put into a light fitting. Yes, it came apart. You really don't want that from a light bulb.
A company which has been making high quality stuff for many decades - you'd trust them to know how to make a good light bulb. I mean - a light bulb! How hard can it be to churn these out? They're not exactly new technology. And this one was an old-fashioned hot bit of wire in a glass shell. The sort that Thomas Edison would have recognised.
His might have been better than this one.
But a company you've never heard of - would you buy their bulb? Instead of Phillips or Osram? Really?
I guess that's why they bought the right to use the word Polaroid.
I'm not accusing anyone of wrongdoing. They bought the name - they're entitled to use it. But maybe, just maybe, some people don't quite get what they're expecting.
So if I did the thing I said I wouldn't do...
...then I certainly wouldn't be the first. Hey Etgar - what percentage would you want? I'll have my people talk to your people.
Sunday, 11 May 2014
What's in a word?
Last week, the Daily Mirror proudly trumpeted the footage it had obtained of Jeremy Clarkson using language so abhorrent that, apparently, he should be sacked. I'm not going to link to the article because I don't want to give their website the hits.
He was using the old nursery rhyme that begins 'Eeny meeny miney mo, catch a...', except he mumbled the second line, except his mumble wasn't mumbly enough so the next word was all too obvious.
(The word begins with 'n' and is an anagram of 'ginger'.)
This footage was never broadcast. The team at the BBC (including the possibly reproachable Jeremy Clarkson) decided that (a) it wasn't funny and (b) the unmentionable word was too clear. So they reshot it with him not mumbling and this time saying 'catch a teacher by the toe'.
It's still not funny but clearly a better choice by a hugely vast margin.
Sadly for all concerned, the unused out-take was leaked to the Daily Mirror. Or, to put it another way, it was stolen and passed on to another company for them to (a) make a profit by selling newspapers and (b) cause great damage to a rival institution. It's currently unknown whether the thief was paid.
It strikes me, in my opinion (and other opinions are, of course, valid and worthy) that there are two interpretations of this footage.
1) Mr Clarkson is a hideous racist who thought it would be hilariously funny to hide inflammatory language behind a thin veil of mumbling, as though the BBC hadn't suffered enough already from the mumbling in Jamaica Inn.
2) Mr Clarkson is a cheeky chap who likes to push at the boundaries. But, when he tried pushing this particular boundary, he found out how far he was prepared to push and it simply wasn't that far. So they binned the idea, shot something else and forgot about it.
Personally, I'd go with option 2.
I'm not defending the use of this sort of language. But I'm not defending the theft of footage either. And I'm not impressed that someone can decide not to do something that's rude but still be castigated for considering and rejecting it. This was never broadcast. This was never meant for broadcast.
Just imagine this for a moment...
Imagine you're writing a document at work. Someone has annoyed you. So, in the middle of one of the paragraphs that you think no one will ever read, you write something unspeakably rude about them. You look at it. Turns out it's not particularly funny anyway. There's still a chance that someone will read item 497.23 in the terms and conditions. So you erase it. No harm done.
Next day you've been sacked because someone managed to obtain a copy of the document at just the wrong moment. You're not sure how they got it. Maybe the computer automatically backed it up onto the company's server and they grabbed it at that point. It only existed for a moment. It should never have gone any further than your PC. But, you're told, that's irrelevant.
Other than the fact that the story about Jeremy Clarkson contains some of the most inflammatory language one can use (and yet which Quentin Tarantino freely sprinkles over so much of his films' dialogue), is this situation significantly different?
He was using the old nursery rhyme that begins 'Eeny meeny miney mo, catch a...', except he mumbled the second line, except his mumble wasn't mumbly enough so the next word was all too obvious.
(The word begins with 'n' and is an anagram of 'ginger'.)
It's still not funny but clearly a better choice by a hugely vast margin.
Sadly for all concerned, the unused out-take was leaked to the Daily Mirror. Or, to put it another way, it was stolen and passed on to another company for them to (a) make a profit by selling newspapers and (b) cause great damage to a rival institution. It's currently unknown whether the thief was paid.
It strikes me, in my opinion (and other opinions are, of course, valid and worthy) that there are two interpretations of this footage.
1) Mr Clarkson is a hideous racist who thought it would be hilariously funny to hide inflammatory language behind a thin veil of mumbling, as though the BBC hadn't suffered enough already from the mumbling in Jamaica Inn.
2) Mr Clarkson is a cheeky chap who likes to push at the boundaries. But, when he tried pushing this particular boundary, he found out how far he was prepared to push and it simply wasn't that far. So they binned the idea, shot something else and forgot about it.
Personally, I'd go with option 2.
I'm not defending the use of this sort of language. But I'm not defending the theft of footage either. And I'm not impressed that someone can decide not to do something that's rude but still be castigated for considering and rejecting it. This was never broadcast. This was never meant for broadcast.
Just imagine this for a moment...
Imagine you're writing a document at work. Someone has annoyed you. So, in the middle of one of the paragraphs that you think no one will ever read, you write something unspeakably rude about them. You look at it. Turns out it's not particularly funny anyway. There's still a chance that someone will read item 497.23 in the terms and conditions. So you erase it. No harm done.
Next day you've been sacked because someone managed to obtain a copy of the document at just the wrong moment. You're not sure how they got it. Maybe the computer automatically backed it up onto the company's server and they grabbed it at that point. It only existed for a moment. It should never have gone any further than your PC. But, you're told, that's irrelevant.
Other than the fact that the story about Jeremy Clarkson contains some of the most inflammatory language one can use (and yet which Quentin Tarantino freely sprinkles over so much of his films' dialogue), is this situation significantly different?
Thursday, 8 May 2014
Don't be boring - you'll start us snoring
Yesterday an actor playing Nick Clegg
Was shrunk to the size of a clothes peg
And looked just like a silly old prat
When chased around by Socks the cat.
But hang on, wait a minute here,
Why do you patronise us, dear?
A party political broadcast
Should nail its colours to the mast.
That satire wasn't even funny
I'd rather know what you'd do with our money.
What are your plans for the NHS?
How will you extract it from this mess?
More austerity? Less income tax?
Are benefits tests too strong? Too lax?
The roads, the buses, the bikes, the trains -
Do they get funding? How about planes?
And what do you plan to do with schools?
Free schools run by any old fools?
With more red tape till teachers down tools?
I'm not averse to a bit of mirth
But saw your film and thought 'what on earth?'
You chose not to tell us what you'd do
And pretty much just said 'Clegg's a poo'.
I apologise - not for my wonderful verse, but for giving more attention to this pathetic attempt at a 'funny' political broadcast.
Regardless of your political views, wouldn't it be refreshing if politicians could actually debate the issues? An approach like this video makes me long for the halcyon days of people just throwing meaningless soundbites at each other.
Would it be boring to make a video in which a personable speaker explained the issues and said what his/her party was going to do about it?
Was shrunk to the size of a clothes peg
And looked just like a silly old prat
When chased around by Socks the cat.
But hang on, wait a minute here,
Why do you patronise us, dear?
A party political broadcast
Should nail its colours to the mast.
That satire wasn't even funny
I'd rather know what you'd do with our money.
What are your plans for the NHS?
How will you extract it from this mess?
More austerity? Less income tax?
Are benefits tests too strong? Too lax?
The roads, the buses, the bikes, the trains -
Do they get funding? How about planes?
And what do you plan to do with schools?
Free schools run by any old fools?
With more red tape till teachers down tools?
I'm not averse to a bit of mirth
But saw your film and thought 'what on earth?'
You chose not to tell us what you'd do
And pretty much just said 'Clegg's a poo'.
I apologise - not for my wonderful verse, but for giving more attention to this pathetic attempt at a 'funny' political broadcast.
Regardless of your political views, wouldn't it be refreshing if politicians could actually debate the issues? An approach like this video makes me long for the halcyon days of people just throwing meaningless soundbites at each other.
Would it be boring to make a video in which a personable speaker explained the issues and said what his/her party was going to do about it?
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
Look at this! It's extraordinary and, er, great and, well, something else
Look at me! Look at me! Look at my work! Derive entertainment, damn you!
It's difficult to get attention. You knew that already. I need to come up with something better or you'll go away.
Some of you didn't even get this far.
How about insults? I could be unnecessarily rude about someone famous in the hope of grabbing some attention.
I sorta tried that except (1) it wasn't unnecessarily rude and (2) it didn't get much attention and (3) I didn't gain from it spiritually, morally or financially.
More positive approach
I've been writing thoughts inspired by the news recently and some people are definitely clicking on them.
I don't know if people are reading them. Are you?
No one is commenting (even when I suggest easy comments they could make) or emailing me with thoughts. (Or buying my books but that's a whole other thing.)
I'm not writing anything that might make anyone cross or litigious. Mostly because I don't feel that way. But yes, there's a little bit of fear of consequences thrown in. There's all sorts of scary stuff in the news (especially outside the UK) and even my reasonable, liberal, live-and-let-live views would probably wind someone up. I wouldn't want that. They might be mean.
I'd insult the British government but where's the sport in booting something into their open goal?
So how do I get attention? How do I expand my readership?
Who are you and why are you reading this now? How many people do you know who might read it too? TELL THEM! OR TELL ME!
Give me comments after the article. Tell me there's someone there.
Or I'll start randomly criticising semi-famous people again.
P.S.
Since writing the above, I was unnecessarily rude to an abstract concept! I successfully teased a playful rejoinder from a real celebrity - yes, I got my name into a whole tweet from Gareth Malone OBE.
With any luck, that won't be the only such tale I'll be telling my grandchildren if and when they bother to turn up. Here is the exchange in all its glory:
Weekend Kitchen @WkndKitchen This weekend on #weekendkitchen @SteveJones & @Lisa_Snowdon will be joined by @GarethMalone @Palomafaith & chef @AngelaHartnett
Peter Tarnofsky @PeterTarnofsky @WkndKitchen @GarethMalone @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Singing guests outnumber cooking guests. Need new title.
Gareth Malone OBE @GarethMalone @PeterTarnofsky @WkndKitchen @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Yes but I'm a demon with a garlic press.
Peter Tarnofsky @PeterTarnofsky @GarethMalone @WkndKitchen @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Tell us something we couldn't have guessed.
...and there,sadly, the wit and repartee ended. If a late reply turns up I will, of course, add it to this blog post.
It's difficult to get attention. You knew that already. I need to come up with something better or you'll go away.
Some of you didn't even get this far.
How about insults? I could be unnecessarily rude about someone famous in the hope of grabbing some attention.
I sorta tried that except (1) it wasn't unnecessarily rude and (2) it didn't get much attention and (3) I didn't gain from it spiritually, morally or financially.
More positive approach
I've been writing thoughts inspired by the news recently and some people are definitely clicking on them.
I don't know if people are reading them. Are you?
No one is commenting (even when I suggest easy comments they could make) or emailing me with thoughts. (Or buying my books but that's a whole other thing.)
I'm not writing anything that might make anyone cross or litigious. Mostly because I don't feel that way. But yes, there's a little bit of fear of consequences thrown in. There's all sorts of scary stuff in the news (especially outside the UK) and even my reasonable, liberal, live-and-let-live views would probably wind someone up. I wouldn't want that. They might be mean.
I'd insult the British government but where's the sport in booting something into their open goal?
So how do I get attention? How do I expand my readership?
Who are you and why are you reading this now? How many people do you know who might read it too? TELL THEM! OR TELL ME!
Give me comments after the article. Tell me there's someone there.
Or I'll start randomly criticising semi-famous people again.
P.S.
Since writing the above, I was unnecessarily rude to an abstract concept! I successfully teased a playful rejoinder from a real celebrity - yes, I got my name into a whole tweet from Gareth Malone OBE.
With any luck, that won't be the only such tale I'll be telling my grandchildren if and when they bother to turn up. Here is the exchange in all its glory:
Weekend Kitchen @WkndKitchen This weekend on #weekendkitchen @SteveJones & @Lisa_Snowdon will be joined by @GarethMalone @Palomafaith & chef @AngelaHartnett
Peter Tarnofsky @PeterTarnofsky @WkndKitchen @GarethMalone @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Singing guests outnumber cooking guests. Need new title.
Gareth Malone OBE @GarethMalone @PeterTarnofsky @WkndKitchen @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Yes but I'm a demon with a garlic press.
Peter Tarnofsky @PeterTarnofsky @GarethMalone @WkndKitchen @SteveJones @Lisa_Snowdon @Palomafaith @AngelaHartnett Tell us something we couldn't have guessed.
...and there,sadly, the wit and repartee ended. If a late reply turns up I will, of course, add it to this blog post.
Tuesday, 6 May 2014
Presumption of guilt and disproportionate punishment
According to the Guardian last Saturday, someone nearly ended up with a criminal record over accidentally paying 55p too little for a train fare.
Here's the article.
None of this is particularly new. Stories like this about railway companies are fairly common. But get a load of the comments after the article...
A good proportion of them assume intent (and therefore guilt) - and some of them go on to assume that this person has been doing it for a prolongued period of time and, clearly, would have continued to defraud the railways if they hadn't been caught. All those 55ps can add up, you know.
I didn't reach that conclusion myself. But, hey, we're all entitled to our own opinions.
It reminds me of my jury service
No, officer, stand down, there's no need to arrest me for contempt of court. Nothing I have written or am about to write concerns what happened in the courtroom or in the jury-room.
Before I turned up on my first day, a line from some comedy (don't ask me which one) went through my head. "If he's not guilty of that, then he's probably guilty of something else so stick him in prison anyway."
That is, naturally, not the way I behaved. I believe I served the judicial process to the best of my ability and blah blah blah (insert whatever else it is one is supposed to write about the whole business).
Back to trains
Many years ago, I regularly bought a season ticket for my train journey to work. Normally they lasted for a month. That's a calendar month. (Is there another sort?)
If the ticket was due to expire on a Friday and I was certain I wouldn't need to travel over the weekend, I'd ask for the next ticket to begin on the Monday. Maybe the two days would be more useful at the other end of the month.
One time, despite clearly asking for this, the man at the ticket office issued a ticket which started the next day. In other words, he accidentally deprived me of two potential days of travel bliss. At the time it was probably worth about £15.
I pointed that out to him. He refused to change it.
Goodness me, we're down the rabbit hole now. It's moved from accidental to deliberate. This man is in a whole different league from the 55p traveller.
I was young, I was in a hurry, I thought I probably wouldn't use the two days at the other end of the month either - to be honest, I can't remember why I didn't insist. Maybe life just felt too short. Anyway, he finally grudgingly offered me a concession.
He took out his biro and wrote "ADD TWO DAYS. STAN." on the back. (His name wasn't Stan but, for some reason, I'm allowing him a pseudonym. Maybe I'm afraid of being sued for libel, bearing in mind the legal fees, removal of any meaningful form of legal aid, etc.)
I didn't try to use this as a rail ticket beyond the printed date. I think we can guess what would have happened.
But if you decide to give it a go (and I'M NOT SAYING YOU SHOULD OR THAT IT'S A GOOD IDEA OR THAT STAN IS THE RIGHT NAME), try writing something like that on the back of your ticket. Let us know how you get on.
Let the punishment dramatically exceed the severity of the crime
The 55p person was allowed the generous settlement of £31 to make the whole sordid business go away. The punishment, in other words, was about sixty times the size of the accidental shortfall.
Bearing that in mind, my railway company should pay me £900.
Hey, First Capital Connect - how about it?
In Roman times, the story goes that if anyone in the empire killed a Roman citizen, ten people from the local village would be executed. (They probably would have said that making it 60 would have been unreasonable.) As far as disproportionate punishments go, even a low factor of 10 is pretty good and would certainly discourage people from attacking anyone who looked like they might wear a toga at home.
(I should point out that I learned that from an episode of the West Wing so it might not be entirely historically accurate. But the principle stands.)
Perhaps we could have a less proportionate system of retribution built into the justice system. Stayed five minutes too long in a parking bay? Have a £120 fine for non-payment of £4.
Oh. Seems it's already happening.
Staying with motoring, how about... Been driving at 75mph in a 70mph zone? Well, 5x60=300 so we'll fire you out of a cannon at 375mph and see how you like it.
Sorry - was that silly? Sillier than messing up someone's entire life with a criminal record over a debt of 55p?
Here's the article.
None of this is particularly new. Stories like this about railway companies are fairly common. But get a load of the comments after the article...
A good proportion of them assume intent (and therefore guilt) - and some of them go on to assume that this person has been doing it for a prolongued period of time and, clearly, would have continued to defraud the railways if they hadn't been caught. All those 55ps can add up, you know.
I didn't reach that conclusion myself. But, hey, we're all entitled to our own opinions.
It reminds me of my jury service
No, officer, stand down, there's no need to arrest me for contempt of court. Nothing I have written or am about to write concerns what happened in the courtroom or in the jury-room.
Before I turned up on my first day, a line from some comedy (don't ask me which one) went through my head. "If he's not guilty of that, then he's probably guilty of something else so stick him in prison anyway."
That is, naturally, not the way I behaved. I believe I served the judicial process to the best of my ability and blah blah blah (insert whatever else it is one is supposed to write about the whole business).
Back to trains
Many years ago, I regularly bought a season ticket for my train journey to work. Normally they lasted for a month. That's a calendar month. (Is there another sort?)
If the ticket was due to expire on a Friday and I was certain I wouldn't need to travel over the weekend, I'd ask for the next ticket to begin on the Monday. Maybe the two days would be more useful at the other end of the month.
One time, despite clearly asking for this, the man at the ticket office issued a ticket which started the next day. In other words, he accidentally deprived me of two potential days of travel bliss. At the time it was probably worth about £15.
I pointed that out to him. He refused to change it.
Goodness me, we're down the rabbit hole now. It's moved from accidental to deliberate. This man is in a whole different league from the 55p traveller.
I was young, I was in a hurry, I thought I probably wouldn't use the two days at the other end of the month either - to be honest, I can't remember why I didn't insist. Maybe life just felt too short. Anyway, he finally grudgingly offered me a concession.
He took out his biro and wrote "ADD TWO DAYS. STAN." on the back. (His name wasn't Stan but, for some reason, I'm allowing him a pseudonym. Maybe I'm afraid of being sued for libel, bearing in mind the legal fees, removal of any meaningful form of legal aid, etc.)
I didn't try to use this as a rail ticket beyond the printed date. I think we can guess what would have happened.
But if you decide to give it a go (and I'M NOT SAYING YOU SHOULD OR THAT IT'S A GOOD IDEA OR THAT STAN IS THE RIGHT NAME), try writing something like that on the back of your ticket. Let us know how you get on.
Let the punishment dramatically exceed the severity of the crime
The 55p person was allowed the generous settlement of £31 to make the whole sordid business go away. The punishment, in other words, was about sixty times the size of the accidental shortfall.
Bearing that in mind, my railway company should pay me £900.
Hey, First Capital Connect - how about it?
In Roman times, the story goes that if anyone in the empire killed a Roman citizen, ten people from the local village would be executed. (They probably would have said that making it 60 would have been unreasonable.) As far as disproportionate punishments go, even a low factor of 10 is pretty good and would certainly discourage people from attacking anyone who looked like they might wear a toga at home.
(I should point out that I learned that from an episode of the West Wing so it might not be entirely historically accurate. But the principle stands.)
Perhaps we could have a less proportionate system of retribution built into the justice system. Stayed five minutes too long in a parking bay? Have a £120 fine for non-payment of £4.
Oh. Seems it's already happening.
Staying with motoring, how about... Been driving at 75mph in a 70mph zone? Well, 5x60=300 so we'll fire you out of a cannon at 375mph and see how you like it.
Sorry - was that silly? Sillier than messing up someone's entire life with a criminal record over a debt of 55p?
Wednesday, 30 April 2014
Mystic powers or just coincidence?
I've been reading Stewart Lee's book How I Escaped My Certain Fate.
From previous experience of blogging about comics, I want to be careful not to upset anyone by making my opinion look like it's a declaration of fact, thereby implying that anyone who disagrees with me must be somewhat lacking in intelligence.
So I won't say it's a great book. I'll just say it's very much to my taste and I personally derived a great amount of enjoyment from reading it. Other tastes may vary.
Buy a copy. Read it. If you enjoy it then you can be reasonably confident that you have similar taste to me when it comes to books written by comedians.
But that's not what I want to write about.
On pages 277-8, he mentions a folk singer called Sally Barker. At the time I was reading it, she was a finalist on the BBC1 programme The Voice.
Personally (here we go again), I found her singing was very much to my taste. But I liked Jermain Jackman (who eventually won) too. And the other finalists. It was a happy programme to watch - thinking that all of the finalists were excellent singers, they all appeared to be great people and that, therefore, an excellent singer who was a great person was bound to win.
Some days later, I watched an episode of Lilyhammer. It stars Steve Van Zandt, guitarist with the E-Street Band and actor. That very night, I reached page 316 of Stewart's book, in which he mentions Steve Van Zandt.
But what does it all mean?
(a) nothing - it's just a coincidence
(b) Stewart (or, perhaps, a spirit residing in his book) has mystic powers and I should open the book at random in order to receive guidance at any point in my life. (This will be tricky since it's a library book and, if the spirit only resides in this copy, then in another week I will have to make my way without guidance since I can't keep renewing it indefinitely.)
Why not vote? Send me a message with 'a' or 'b'.
Before you rush to vote 'a', consider this: faiths have been established on flimsier premises. But none that I'm brave enough to name.
And before you rush to vote 'b', consider that fact that I just randomly turned to page 122 and couldn't fathom how any of it could help me with my day. Perhaps I just need someone more spiritual to help me interpret.
From previous experience of blogging about comics, I want to be careful not to upset anyone by making my opinion look like it's a declaration of fact, thereby implying that anyone who disagrees with me must be somewhat lacking in intelligence.
So I won't say it's a great book. I'll just say it's very much to my taste and I personally derived a great amount of enjoyment from reading it. Other tastes may vary.
Buy a copy. Read it. If you enjoy it then you can be reasonably confident that you have similar taste to me when it comes to books written by comedians.
But that's not what I want to write about.
On pages 277-8, he mentions a folk singer called Sally Barker. At the time I was reading it, she was a finalist on the BBC1 programme The Voice.
Personally (here we go again), I found her singing was very much to my taste. But I liked Jermain Jackman (who eventually won) too. And the other finalists. It was a happy programme to watch - thinking that all of the finalists were excellent singers, they all appeared to be great people and that, therefore, an excellent singer who was a great person was bound to win.
Some days later, I watched an episode of Lilyhammer. It stars Steve Van Zandt, guitarist with the E-Street Band and actor. That very night, I reached page 316 of Stewart's book, in which he mentions Steve Van Zandt.
But what does it all mean?
(a) nothing - it's just a coincidence
(b) Stewart (or, perhaps, a spirit residing in his book) has mystic powers and I should open the book at random in order to receive guidance at any point in my life. (This will be tricky since it's a library book and, if the spirit only resides in this copy, then in another week I will have to make my way without guidance since I can't keep renewing it indefinitely.)
Why not vote? Send me a message with 'a' or 'b'.
Before you rush to vote 'a', consider this: faiths have been established on flimsier premises. But none that I'm brave enough to name.
And before you rush to vote 'b', consider that fact that I just randomly turned to page 122 and couldn't fathom how any of it could help me with my day. Perhaps I just need someone more spiritual to help me interpret.
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
Tell Andrew the position has been filled
...at least I think that's his name. He's Uncle Albert's dog - you remember, the guy who's floating around, bumping into the ceiling and laughing.
Much as I hate to turn away readers, the wonderful Mark Kermode implies that I should do just that to anyone who doesn't pick up the reference. Here's why:
So this is what should happen. If you advertise a job or run a competition or one of those other things where a small number of people get something they really wanted while a large number of people leave with nothing - then tell everyone when the position has been filled.
There's a growing trend in recruitment to (a) not give a start date, (b) not give a closing date for applications, (c) not give a date for interviews and (d) not give a damn about anyone who might be waiting to find out whether they've got through or not. The months roll by. Is the process taking ages or has the lucky new employee already met everyone and started working on something really interesting?
I'm not saying give everyone feedback in minute detail. Just make a list of all the email addresses and tell them all when the position has been filled. Or when the competition has a winner. Even if you think they're as insignificant as a dog.
Do HR departments want everyone phoning up to ask? I'm sure that would take longer.
That's not exactly relevant
I recently entered (yet another) short story competition. Did you know I'd written two books of short stories? (They All Die At The End and Everything Turns Out Just Fine). Well, the short story didn't come from either of them.
I wasn't short-listed. But what was interesting (to me) was that I'd actually forgotten about it for ages. When I finally bothered to look it up, I found out the short-listing and the champion-crowning had happened long ago.
Wouldn't it have been nice if they'd sent an email to all entrants to tell them that the winners had been announced?
Sour grapes alert
I read the winning entry. And the two runners-up. And I didn't rate any of them. I'm not saying they're rubbish. Of course I'm not saying that. I'm saying that they're not to my taste. They're not for me. I disagree with the conclusions but I do so with respect for the opinions and tastes of others.
However, it showed me that the short stories I write are not the short stories that these "short story experts" rate. I neither want to write nor read stories written in that style.
So if you think you don't like short stories, maybe you should read mine because I don't like what's conventionally thought to be well-executed short stories either.
I eagerly await the avalanche of sales.
Don't forget you can order signed paperbacks from my website.
http://theyalldieattheend.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
http://everythingturnsoutjustfine.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
http://www.petertarnofsky.co.uk
Shocking
Sorry. I don't normally use this blog for blatant self-promotion. Normal service will be resumed the next time I think of something to write about. I often comment on the news but I find today's news really depressing so I'm taking refuge in fiction.
Really
I've decided to always put the word really in italics because if an adjective has earned the modifier really then it probably should be stressed. Feel free to argue the point since it is, by far, the most trivial point mentioned here.
P.S.
If I don't get at least a few hundred hits on my website and at least, literally, one or two sales from this article then there's no justice in the world.
Wait... what? There isn't?
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Maybe it wasn't intended as sour grapes but...
Lynn Shepherd wrote this:
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/lynn-shepherd/jk-rowling-should-stop-writing_b_4829648.html
Yes, she really said that J K Rowling had had her turn and should now retire to leave the way clear for other writers. When I first read about it on the BBC's news website, I thought it couldn't be true. I assumed they had misrepresented her. I shouldn't have doubted the BBC. But feel free to make up your own mind.
Before I go on, let me state this as clearly as I can. I don't think that J K Rowling should stop writing, or having her books published, whether under her own name or under any pseudonym that takes her fancy.
(And if she wanted to write under the name 'Peter Tarnofsky', I wouldn't stop her as long as she didn't make it clear which ones were hers and which ones were mine. Yes, I'd shamelessly take a leg-up, ride on coat-tails, etc.)
She has brought joy and wonder to millions. I liked some of her books. I've enjoyed the films. Yes, I'd like a little success too - but wouldn't expect someone else to back down so I could have it.
She enjoys writing and people enjoy reading what she's written. Long may it continue.
Surely that's not all this article is going to say?
Funnily enough, no.
I think the fault, if there is any fault, lies with the media.
"Successful, much loved author writes successful, much loved book" is not really news.
"Author you've never heard of writes great book that deserves wide audience" is definitely news.
Maybe we could have more of the latter and a bit less of the former. It's not that J K Rowling is removing the oxygen from the room - it's the media that's bagging up all the oxygen and delivering it to her house unbidden.
So I'm taking potshots at the media instead? Is that any better?
A little better but not much. Newspapers need readers and they get more website hits (hence advertising revenue) by writing about authors that people want to read about. In other words, there's a financial advantage in their writing about J K Rowling rather than someone less well-known (like Peter Tarnofsky, for example).
Why should they act to their own detriment? They don't owe me anything. They're trying to run a business here.
This doesn't entirely excuse the printed media, which does not depend upon advertising click-rates but, if they constantly ignore the interests of their readers, they simply sell fewer copies.
But if there's any blame, it's with the media for over-reporting the latest thoughts and releases of well-established writers - at the expense of giving a few more column inches to upcoming authors who could really do with a little more exposure.
But, as far as I'm concerned, J K Rowling is entirely blameless in this matter.
Obligatory plug
If this makes you want to read some of my work, it would be silly of me not to make it as easy as possible:
Short stories for adults:
http://everythingturnsoutjustfine.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
http://theyalldieattheend.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
Novels for children:
http://petertarnofskybooks.wordpress.com/buy-the-books/
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/lynn-shepherd/jk-rowling-should-stop-writing_b_4829648.html
Yes, she really said that J K Rowling had had her turn and should now retire to leave the way clear for other writers. When I first read about it on the BBC's news website, I thought it couldn't be true. I assumed they had misrepresented her. I shouldn't have doubted the BBC. But feel free to make up your own mind.
Before I go on, let me state this as clearly as I can. I don't think that J K Rowling should stop writing, or having her books published, whether under her own name or under any pseudonym that takes her fancy.
(And if she wanted to write under the name 'Peter Tarnofsky', I wouldn't stop her as long as she didn't make it clear which ones were hers and which ones were mine. Yes, I'd shamelessly take a leg-up, ride on coat-tails, etc.)
She has brought joy and wonder to millions. I liked some of her books. I've enjoyed the films. Yes, I'd like a little success too - but wouldn't expect someone else to back down so I could have it.
She enjoys writing and people enjoy reading what she's written. Long may it continue.
Surely that's not all this article is going to say?
Funnily enough, no.
I think the fault, if there is any fault, lies with the media.
"Successful, much loved author writes successful, much loved book" is not really news.
"Author you've never heard of writes great book that deserves wide audience" is definitely news.
Maybe we could have more of the latter and a bit less of the former. It's not that J K Rowling is removing the oxygen from the room - it's the media that's bagging up all the oxygen and delivering it to her house unbidden.
So I'm taking potshots at the media instead? Is that any better?
A little better but not much. Newspapers need readers and they get more website hits (hence advertising revenue) by writing about authors that people want to read about. In other words, there's a financial advantage in their writing about J K Rowling rather than someone less well-known (like Peter Tarnofsky, for example).
Why should they act to their own detriment? They don't owe me anything. They're trying to run a business here.
This doesn't entirely excuse the printed media, which does not depend upon advertising click-rates but, if they constantly ignore the interests of their readers, they simply sell fewer copies.
But if there's any blame, it's with the media for over-reporting the latest thoughts and releases of well-established writers - at the expense of giving a few more column inches to upcoming authors who could really do with a little more exposure.
But, as far as I'm concerned, J K Rowling is entirely blameless in this matter.
Obligatory plug
If this makes you want to read some of my work, it would be silly of me not to make it as easy as possible:
Short stories for adults:
http://everythingturnsoutjustfine.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
http://theyalldieattheend.wordpress.com/buy-the-book/
Novels for children:
http://petertarnofskybooks.wordpress.com/buy-the-books/
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Comedy, music, nostalgia and queue jumping
Last night, S and I went to the recording of Mitch Benn Is The 37th Beatle at the BBC Radio Theatre.
It is an excellent show. (As a reviewer, I don't believe in over-complicating things.)
Comedy
It's funny and witty. It's clever and musical. It's musically clever while being funny.
(And not musically smug-clever - not even slightly. It's musically funny-clever.)
I don't want to tell you about the show because it would be much more enjoyable to hear it (BBC Radio 4, 5 February, 6.30pm) than for me to summarise it.
(Obviously. If the summary's going to be more fun, that's about as thorough a hatchet job as any critic could write.)
Music
But I will just add that writing songs which are instantly recognisable as being Beatles-ish without simply ripping them off is quite an artform. Mitch Benn can do it - and make it funny at the same time.
The show we heard - and the show which you, of course, are going to hear in a few weeks - is a cut-down version to fit into a thirty minute radio programme. He's touring a much longer version and, if this is anything to go by (which clearly it is), I'm confident to highly recommend the full show (even though I haven't heard it).
Go to http://mitchbenn.com to find out where/when and how to book tickets. That's what I'm going to be doing.
Nostalgia
Going to the show reminded me of the time I used to see live comedy, most weeks (okay, maybe once a fortnight is closer to the truth) - generally in smoky rooms under pubs or over pubs or, if I was feeling rich, in the Comedy Store.
Bill Bailey, Eddie Izzard, Jo Brand, Jack Dee, Harry Hill - I could go on (and on and on) - yes, I saw all of them in tiny venues.
That lead to the terribly difficult decision - should I seek out new (and potentially hilarious) comedians? Or just look for whichever places had the luck to book those people and just go there?
The answer, of course, was a bit of both - although that was frequently due to turning up too late and not getting in. More about not getting in later.
And, last night, between the BBC and dinner at http://www.imperialchina-london.com/, we walked past the delightful place where Eddie Izzard used to run the Raging Bull comedy club. I can't decide if the strip clubs and 'adult' shops are more or less seedy than they were all those years ago. I think I'll just say that it all looked a bit different.
I couldn't quite remember which of the questionably enticing doorways used to lead to comedy at 10pm on a Saturday night. Then again, it didn't seem that important to work it out either - and we were hungry.
Queue Jumping
Tickets for BBC shows are free (I'm proud of the BBC, etc.) - which means they over-allocate because they reckon (presumably correctly) that there are rascals who will ask for tickets and then not turn up because, you know, the tickets were free.
Any day other than Tuesday, I'd be more than happy to arrive early to get a low-numbered sticker on my ticket. But, on Tuesdays, N goes swimming after school and that made the timing as tight as an inappropriate simile which I don't wish to put here.
So, by slightly nefarious means, S & I managed to get around the problem by a little queue jumping, i.e. using a small amount of chutzpah to ask Mitch's wife Clara to ask Mitch to put us on the guest list.
Thank you, Clara and Mitch. It was an utterly excellent night out and it would have been substantially rubbish if we hadn't got in.
The story of why I was in a position to ask them for anything is a subject for another day. (Call that a teaser, if you like.)
Surprise! There's a competition too!
.JPG)
Yes. A free DVD from my own personal and eclectic collection to someone who can explain why this photo reminds us that House Of Cards Season Two starts on 14 February.
I'll probably put all the correct answers in a proverbial hat and randomly pick one. No, the winner doesn't get an unfettered choice from my DVDs. But I might give a decent range to pick from.
It is an excellent show. (As a reviewer, I don't believe in over-complicating things.)
Comedy
It's funny and witty. It's clever and musical. It's musically clever while being funny.
(And not musically smug-clever - not even slightly. It's musically funny-clever.)
I don't want to tell you about the show because it would be much more enjoyable to hear it (BBC Radio 4, 5 February, 6.30pm) than for me to summarise it.
(Obviously. If the summary's going to be more fun, that's about as thorough a hatchet job as any critic could write.)
Music
But I will just add that writing songs which are instantly recognisable as being Beatles-ish without simply ripping them off is quite an artform. Mitch Benn can do it - and make it funny at the same time.
The show we heard - and the show which you, of course, are going to hear in a few weeks - is a cut-down version to fit into a thirty minute radio programme. He's touring a much longer version and, if this is anything to go by (which clearly it is), I'm confident to highly recommend the full show (even though I haven't heard it).
Go to http://mitchbenn.com to find out where/when and how to book tickets. That's what I'm going to be doing.
Nostalgia
Going to the show reminded me of the time I used to see live comedy, most weeks (okay, maybe once a fortnight is closer to the truth) - generally in smoky rooms under pubs or over pubs or, if I was feeling rich, in the Comedy Store.
Bill Bailey, Eddie Izzard, Jo Brand, Jack Dee, Harry Hill - I could go on (and on and on) - yes, I saw all of them in tiny venues.
That lead to the terribly difficult decision - should I seek out new (and potentially hilarious) comedians? Or just look for whichever places had the luck to book those people and just go there?
The answer, of course, was a bit of both - although that was frequently due to turning up too late and not getting in. More about not getting in later.
And, last night, between the BBC and dinner at http://www.imperialchina-london.com/, we walked past the delightful place where Eddie Izzard used to run the Raging Bull comedy club. I can't decide if the strip clubs and 'adult' shops are more or less seedy than they were all those years ago. I think I'll just say that it all looked a bit different.
I couldn't quite remember which of the questionably enticing doorways used to lead to comedy at 10pm on a Saturday night. Then again, it didn't seem that important to work it out either - and we were hungry.
Queue Jumping
Tickets for BBC shows are free (I'm proud of the BBC, etc.) - which means they over-allocate because they reckon (presumably correctly) that there are rascals who will ask for tickets and then not turn up because, you know, the tickets were free.
Any day other than Tuesday, I'd be more than happy to arrive early to get a low-numbered sticker on my ticket. But, on Tuesdays, N goes swimming after school and that made the timing as tight as an inappropriate simile which I don't wish to put here.
So, by slightly nefarious means, S & I managed to get around the problem by a little queue jumping, i.e. using a small amount of chutzpah to ask Mitch's wife Clara to ask Mitch to put us on the guest list.
Thank you, Clara and Mitch. It was an utterly excellent night out and it would have been substantially rubbish if we hadn't got in.
The story of why I was in a position to ask them for anything is a subject for another day. (Call that a teaser, if you like.)
Surprise! There's a competition too!
Yes. A free DVD from my own personal and eclectic collection to someone who can explain why this photo reminds us that House Of Cards Season Two starts on 14 February.I'll probably put all the correct answers in a proverbial hat and randomly pick one. No, the winner doesn't get an unfettered choice from my DVDs. But I might give a decent range to pick from.
Tuesday, 7 January 2014
New Year Sale...
Given that I've already pared prices down to the bone, I won't be offering any discounts.
Instead, the names of the next ten people to order a paperback (direct from me) will be put into a hat.
No, there's more.
I'll then pull three names from that hat and each will receive a free DVD from my personal and eclectic collection. I haven't yet picked which ones to give away (oh, the excitement) so there may be an element of choice for the lucky winners.
I'm matching prices with Amazon at the moment - and not even charging for postage (sorry, UK only).
Website home page:
http://www.petertarnofsky.co.uk
2nd short story anthology for adults:
http://everythingturnsoutjustfine.wordpress.com/
1st short story anthology for adults:
http://theyalldieattheend.wordpress.com/
Books for children:
http://petertarnofskybooks.wordpress.com/
Instead, the names of the next ten people to order a paperback (direct from me) will be put into a hat.
No, there's more.
I'll then pull three names from that hat and each will receive a free DVD from my personal and eclectic collection. I haven't yet picked which ones to give away (oh, the excitement) so there may be an element of choice for the lucky winners.
I'm matching prices with Amazon at the moment - and not even charging for postage (sorry, UK only).
Website home page:
http://www.petertarnofsky.co.uk
2nd short story anthology for adults:
http://everythingturnsoutjustfine.wordpress.com/
1st short story anthology for adults:
http://theyalldieattheend.wordpress.com/
Books for children:
http://petertarnofskybooks.wordpress.com/
Friday, 20 December 2013
A Little Something For Christmas
I've recorded a dozen carols.
Don't panic. It's only instruments. You can add the singing yourself. I've recorded some of them reasonably normally and had a bit of fun with the rest.
https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=0B3ly3C2V-fcYd2ZFXzM1aV9meTg&usp=sharing
Before you go, please read this.
I absolutely don't want any money for it. None.
But I would ask that you seriously consider making a donation to charity. Any amount of money that works for you.
If you live in the UK, maybe consider the Disasters Emergency Committee (http://www.dec.org.uk/). Elsewhere, find a cause that you feel passionately about.
(I'm not reserving any rights to these recordings so feel free to copy, share, remix, add instruments, whatever works for you. But please include the 'readme.txt' file if you share a copy, rather than just the link.)
Merry Christmas.
Don't panic. It's only instruments. You can add the singing yourself. I've recorded some of them reasonably normally and had a bit of fun with the rest.
https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=0B3ly3C2V-fcYd2ZFXzM1aV9meTg&usp=sharing
Before you go, please read this.
I absolutely don't want any money for it. None.
But I would ask that you seriously consider making a donation to charity. Any amount of money that works for you.
If you live in the UK, maybe consider the Disasters Emergency Committee (http://www.dec.org.uk/). Elsewhere, find a cause that you feel passionately about.
(I'm not reserving any rights to these recordings so feel free to copy, share, remix, add instruments, whatever works for you. But please include the 'readme.txt' file if you share a copy, rather than just the link.)
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, 20 November 2013
I'm sure it used to be funny... and other dreary complaints
I had no intention of referencing the wonderful Bill Bailey twice in two days. But then he wrote Why a Monty Python reunion is sure to be worth watching in today's newspaper.
Don't panic! I don't disagree with him. I'm not going to criticise him or them - or anyone else for that matter.
(I tried that once before - and it's not that it didn't end well, it's more that it was an interesting experiment, and I meant everything I wrote, but I'm not going back to that genre today.)
What do I think of Monty Python?
Who cares? It doesn't matter.
But the simple fact is that I was far too young to enjoy their programmes first time around. (Technically I wasn't even born when they started but I think that's included in 'far too young'.)
So I first watched their material on the umpteenth repeat. It wasn't new or fresh. I knew I was expected to find it funny and strange and original and breathtaking and freewheeling and so on. Sure, I didn't know the lines and the jokes and the punchlines (where provided) - but I knew to expect almost anything and so, when almost anything happened, it didn't feel unexpected.
That's not their fault. Clearly they were brilliant. I truly hope they still are. But I missed the chance to watch their shows when no one had any idea what was about to happen.
And, for that reason, they don't hold that special place in my laughter organ (whichever one that is - spleen?). No - Bill Bailey is in there. And Eddie Izzard. And Harry Hill. And Jo Brand. And Steve Coogan. I could go on.
Discovery
Bill and Eddie and Harry and Jo and Steve - these are the people that I saw when I first started watching live comedy in little upstairs rooms above pubs or smoky filthy basements below pubs or in rooms temporarily loaned out by the strip club that owned the building.
I didn't discover them (of course) - but I did discover I liked them, for myself, without being told by the huge crushing weight of acceptable public opinion that they were definitely to be liked.
I don't have memories of laughing at a late-night rerun of Monty Python on BBC2. But (I hope) I'll never forget the night that the headline comedian (whoever he was) failed to turn up and so Eddie Izzard, the compere, filled in with an extended set to close the show.
It might be all over YouTube now and almost memorised by some of the fans - but that night I heard his 'brought up by wolves' story for the first time and the tears were streaming and the muscles around my diaphragm were aching from pure, uncontrollable, wonderful laughter.
(No, it wasn't just me. Everyone was laughing that much. And it could also have been the night that Noel James set his hair on fire.)
And I couldn't even see Bill Bailey in a tiny, tiny room up a narrow staircase in a Soho pub when I first heard him sing 'The Leg Of Time'. It was standing room only and I wasn't as tall as the numerous (and probably fire-hazardous) crowd in front of me. So I didn't understand the laugh he got from his Dougal impression. But I remember the night and the show and the laughter.
This is the song, as recorded for his BBC2 series 'Is It Bill Bailey?'- still shockingly unavailable on DVD, despite my mentioning it yesterday.
Nostalgia
I admit it.
Original material
I can't criticise the new Monty Python project because I don't know what it's going to be and I probably won't want to criticise it once they announce it. (But I'm getting this blog post in now, beforehand, just in case.)
But, personally, I'm not in the right age bracket to go for a greatest-hits massive-arena tour. The thought of being in the middle of a crowd trying to simulcast Palin through the dead parrot sketch won't have me furiously refreshing my browser at 9am on whichever morning the tickets go on sale.
New material, in a venue where you can actually see the whites of their eyes - now that would be enticing. Then again, there are many, many comedians I'd see under those circumstances. Like Bill. But then, I did discover him*.
(* - see above. In case you've skim-read your way down here, I'm not claiming any particular skill or to have been involved in his success in any way except that I was one of the people who paid to see him and encouraged him by laughing like an idiot.)
Don't panic! I don't disagree with him. I'm not going to criticise him or them - or anyone else for that matter.
(I tried that once before - and it's not that it didn't end well, it's more that it was an interesting experiment, and I meant everything I wrote, but I'm not going back to that genre today.)
What do I think of Monty Python?
Who cares? It doesn't matter.
But the simple fact is that I was far too young to enjoy their programmes first time around. (Technically I wasn't even born when they started but I think that's included in 'far too young'.)
So I first watched their material on the umpteenth repeat. It wasn't new or fresh. I knew I was expected to find it funny and strange and original and breathtaking and freewheeling and so on. Sure, I didn't know the lines and the jokes and the punchlines (where provided) - but I knew to expect almost anything and so, when almost anything happened, it didn't feel unexpected.
That's not their fault. Clearly they were brilliant. I truly hope they still are. But I missed the chance to watch their shows when no one had any idea what was about to happen.
And, for that reason, they don't hold that special place in my laughter organ (whichever one that is - spleen?). No - Bill Bailey is in there. And Eddie Izzard. And Harry Hill. And Jo Brand. And Steve Coogan. I could go on.
Discovery
Bill and Eddie and Harry and Jo and Steve - these are the people that I saw when I first started watching live comedy in little upstairs rooms above pubs or smoky filthy basements below pubs or in rooms temporarily loaned out by the strip club that owned the building.
I didn't discover them (of course) - but I did discover I liked them, for myself, without being told by the huge crushing weight of acceptable public opinion that they were definitely to be liked.
I don't have memories of laughing at a late-night rerun of Monty Python on BBC2. But (I hope) I'll never forget the night that the headline comedian (whoever he was) failed to turn up and so Eddie Izzard, the compere, filled in with an extended set to close the show.
It might be all over YouTube now and almost memorised by some of the fans - but that night I heard his 'brought up by wolves' story for the first time and the tears were streaming and the muscles around my diaphragm were aching from pure, uncontrollable, wonderful laughter.
(No, it wasn't just me. Everyone was laughing that much. And it could also have been the night that Noel James set his hair on fire.)
And I couldn't even see Bill Bailey in a tiny, tiny room up a narrow staircase in a Soho pub when I first heard him sing 'The Leg Of Time'. It was standing room only and I wasn't as tall as the numerous (and probably fire-hazardous) crowd in front of me. So I didn't understand the laugh he got from his Dougal impression. But I remember the night and the show and the laughter.
This is the song, as recorded for his BBC2 series 'Is It Bill Bailey?'- still shockingly unavailable on DVD, despite my mentioning it yesterday.
Nostalgia
I admit it.
Original material
I can't criticise the new Monty Python project because I don't know what it's going to be and I probably won't want to criticise it once they announce it. (But I'm getting this blog post in now, beforehand, just in case.)
But, personally, I'm not in the right age bracket to go for a greatest-hits massive-arena tour. The thought of being in the middle of a crowd trying to simulcast Palin through the dead parrot sketch won't have me furiously refreshing my browser at 9am on whichever morning the tickets go on sale.
New material, in a venue where you can actually see the whites of their eyes - now that would be enticing. Then again, there are many, many comedians I'd see under those circumstances. Like Bill. But then, I did discover him*.
(* - see above. In case you've skim-read your way down here, I'm not claiming any particular skill or to have been involved in his success in any way except that I was one of the people who paid to see him and encouraged him by laughing like an idiot.)
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
Bananas with Bill, Barry and Raby
This is a true story about the utter joy in finding something unexpected, in a place that you know so very well and which, despite expectations, has concealed a secret over the decades.
But, since it is N's birthday, let's start a little earlier this morning. On the way to school, she was teaching us how to make bananas. This is a complex process, involving pre-heating your imaginary oven to precisely 304 (don't ask me which scale), gathering leaves (imaginary, and of various colours), beating them into a mould (I'm going to stop saying 'imaginary' now) with a variety of implements (wooden platter, sharp knife, etc), adding some gravel and weeds and then baking the whole thing for precisely ten seconds.
You might think this explains why she doesn't eat bananas whereas, in fact, the truth is far worse.
Let's back up a little further.
Raby
Many years ago, before N was even born, there was a sign. No, not that sort of sign.
There was a sign by the library in the Barbican inviting people to speak to a careers advisor called Raby Clingbine.Frankly, I didn't believe that name. Google doesn't seem to believe in it either. Hot news! Google has found the elusive person part-way down this webpage. (Yes, I appreciate that it's dated 2008 but I haven't been looking on a daily basis.)
Anyway, not thinking for a moment that it could be a real person - especially as the sign had gone by the next time I visited, making me wonder whether I'd imagined the whole thing, the name became the first choice when trying to put a random name onto a random person. (Everyone does this, right?)
So we had a little song, about a character (called Raby Clingbine) who ate a banana, which caused his ears to fall off and a variety of other complaints. The punchline was about bananas being made of leather. It made sense at the time.
The whole thing was sung in a demented-rumba style, complete with ching-chika-chika-CHING and chromatic bass riffs joining the lines and so on. A bit like this (from about thirty seconds, if you're short on time):
...but, clearly, with wholly original melody and lyrics.
Bill
We now need to go back (or forward - look it up if you're bothered) to Bill Bailey's wonderfully excellent BBC series entitled, one hopes rhetorically, "Is It Bill Bailey?". I believe it was.
(I also believe that it's a crime against comedy (and against his income) that people are still being deprived of the opportunity to buy a copy of the whole series on DVD, so the only winners are Google for selling advertising space alongside the many clips on YouTube.)
So, while exploring the contribution that cockneys have made to popular music, Bill considers the use of the classic turn-around, the 'have a banana'. And now you can give some clicks to Google:
Time permitting, I'll remove this sentence and tell you whereabouts in the clip you can fast-forward to if you're short on time.
He doesn't explain the origin of the 'have a banana' motif but does successfully discover it in all sorts of unexpected places. Speaking of which...
Barry
My parents own a copy of the vinyl album Manilow Magic, a veritable smorgasbord of thumping great Barry tunes which was part of the soundtrack of my early (and maybe mid) childhood. If this link still works, you can pick it up for a pound (plus £1.26 shipping).
We played that record a lot. Especially Copacabana which, although it's a tragic story of murder, alcoholism and wasted lives, is a groovingly splendid melange of disco, latin percussion and wailing backing singers.
I thought I knew the song thoroughly. I was wrong.
And so, this morning, at 8.45am, walking back from school, my MP3-playing phone scooped around its storage for random content and, wonderfully, produced Copacabana. And, at 8.48am, I heard this:
Yes, in the middle of the disco-tragedy-instrumental-wailing middle section, Barry got a bunch of singers (who probably knew better) to sing 'Have a banana'.
And this morning it literally (not literally meaning metaphorically - the real, classic 'literally' meaning, well, literally) made me stop in my tracks. I didn't quite punch the air but it was a close-run thing.
In conclusion
Look through the places and objects that you think you know well - for they contain many surprises that you may find quite delightful.
P.S. Legal disclaimer
If my appropriating fifteen seconds of Copacabana is deemed to constitute intellectual property theft, then I will, of course, be happy to take down the offending item. In mitigation, it will not satisfy anyone searching for the song and they would probably be drawn to the Amazon listing and therefore purchase the item. (I know, it's second-hand so only the seller will make anything from the whole sorry business but you can't have everything.)
P.P.S. Those aren't pyramids
They're the roofs of various blocks of flats. I couldn't figure out how to insert audio so I added a photo I'd taken and called it a video.
P.P.P.S. Join my mailing list
Over on the right. Or click here.
But, since it is N's birthday, let's start a little earlier this morning. On the way to school, she was teaching us how to make bananas. This is a complex process, involving pre-heating your imaginary oven to precisely 304 (don't ask me which scale), gathering leaves (imaginary, and of various colours), beating them into a mould (I'm going to stop saying 'imaginary' now) with a variety of implements (wooden platter, sharp knife, etc), adding some gravel and weeds and then baking the whole thing for precisely ten seconds.
You might think this explains why she doesn't eat bananas whereas, in fact, the truth is far worse.
Let's back up a little further.
Raby
Many years ago, before N was even born, there was a sign. No, not that sort of sign.
There was a sign by the library in the Barbican inviting people to speak to a careers advisor called Raby Clingbine.
Anyway, not thinking for a moment that it could be a real person - especially as the sign had gone by the next time I visited, making me wonder whether I'd imagined the whole thing, the name became the first choice when trying to put a random name onto a random person. (Everyone does this, right?)
So we had a little song, about a character (called Raby Clingbine) who ate a banana, which caused his ears to fall off and a variety of other complaints. The punchline was about bananas being made of leather. It made sense at the time.
The whole thing was sung in a demented-rumba style, complete with ching-chika-chika-CHING and chromatic bass riffs joining the lines and so on. A bit like this (from about thirty seconds, if you're short on time):
...but, clearly, with wholly original melody and lyrics.
Bill
We now need to go back (or forward - look it up if you're bothered) to Bill Bailey's wonderfully excellent BBC series entitled, one hopes rhetorically, "Is It Bill Bailey?". I believe it was.
(I also believe that it's a crime against comedy (and against his income) that people are still being deprived of the opportunity to buy a copy of the whole series on DVD, so the only winners are Google for selling advertising space alongside the many clips on YouTube.)
So, while exploring the contribution that cockneys have made to popular music, Bill considers the use of the classic turn-around, the 'have a banana'. And now you can give some clicks to Google:
Time permitting, I'll remove this sentence and tell you whereabouts in the clip you can fast-forward to if you're short on time.
He doesn't explain the origin of the 'have a banana' motif but does successfully discover it in all sorts of unexpected places. Speaking of which...
Barry
My parents own a copy of the vinyl album Manilow Magic, a veritable smorgasbord of thumping great Barry tunes which was part of the soundtrack of my early (and maybe mid) childhood. If this link still works, you can pick it up for a pound (plus £1.26 shipping).
We played that record a lot. Especially Copacabana which, although it's a tragic story of murder, alcoholism and wasted lives, is a groovingly splendid melange of disco, latin percussion and wailing backing singers.
I thought I knew the song thoroughly. I was wrong.
And so, this morning, at 8.45am, walking back from school, my MP3-playing phone scooped around its storage for random content and, wonderfully, produced Copacabana. And, at 8.48am, I heard this:
Yes, in the middle of the disco-tragedy-instrumental-wailing middle section, Barry got a bunch of singers (who probably knew better) to sing 'Have a banana'.
And this morning it literally (not literally meaning metaphorically - the real, classic 'literally' meaning, well, literally) made me stop in my tracks. I didn't quite punch the air but it was a close-run thing.
In conclusion
Look through the places and objects that you think you know well - for they contain many surprises that you may find quite delightful.
P.S. Legal disclaimer
If my appropriating fifteen seconds of Copacabana is deemed to constitute intellectual property theft, then I will, of course, be happy to take down the offending item. In mitigation, it will not satisfy anyone searching for the song and they would probably be drawn to the Amazon listing and therefore purchase the item. (I know, it's second-hand so only the seller will make anything from the whole sorry business but you can't have everything.)
P.P.S. Those aren't pyramids
They're the roofs of various blocks of flats. I couldn't figure out how to insert audio so I added a photo I'd taken and called it a video.
P.P.P.S. Join my mailing list
Over on the right. Or click here.
Friday, 8 November 2013
How to fix everything
Yesterday, the head of MI6 (Britain's spying organisation), told a government enquiry that Edward Snowden's leaking of information about their spying capabilities now meant that:
It is difficult to argue with the contention that telling enemies about your spying capabilities makes it harder to spy on them because they'll stop doing some of the stuff they know you can monitor.
But why do we have so many adversaries in the first place?
Be nice to people
Imagine the scene in the playground. Big kid is hitting small kid. Occasionally he stops. Small kid then stabs big kid in the leg with point of his compass. Big kid adopts air of outrage and hits small kid again. Repeat ad nauseam.
Teacher steps in. "What do you think you're doing?" roars teacher. "It's him!" shouts the big kid, tearfully. "No matter how often I punch him in the face, he keeps stabbing me with his compass."
And, from the big kid's perspective, and the perspective of his friends, he's absolutely right and he'll keep on punching the small kid until he relents, hands over his lunch money and the status quo can be restored.
But when you're talking about global politics, maybe we could expect to look at it from the teacher's perspective instead.
How about, for every million pounds currently spent on bombing the hell out of people (even if they're evil - let's give 'our guys' the benefit of the doubt and assume some of the those killed really are bad guys), we instead spend half a million pounds giving them food, medical equipment and supplies, construction equipment, educational materials, etc, etc. Make sure it's all marked "A GIFT FROM YOUR FRIENDS IN THE UK".
And spend the other half million on domestic charities, just to keep the electorate happy.
We could try it for a bit. If it doesn't work, keep on doing it. If it gets stolen or destroyed or lost, keep on doing it. Something will get through eventually. Maybe spend two-thirds of a million and see if that's any better.
And before telling me that I'm hopelessly naive and that it wouldn't work, please try to produce at least one example of an occasion when it was tried.
"our adversaries are rubbing their hands with glee"...while no doubt laughing an evil pantomime-style laugh and stroking their evil pointy beards (if that is possible while rubbing hands with glee).
It is difficult to argue with the contention that telling enemies about your spying capabilities makes it harder to spy on them because they'll stop doing some of the stuff they know you can monitor.
But why do we have so many adversaries in the first place?
Be nice to people
Imagine the scene in the playground. Big kid is hitting small kid. Occasionally he stops. Small kid then stabs big kid in the leg with point of his compass. Big kid adopts air of outrage and hits small kid again. Repeat ad nauseam.
Teacher steps in. "What do you think you're doing?" roars teacher. "It's him!" shouts the big kid, tearfully. "No matter how often I punch him in the face, he keeps stabbing me with his compass."
And, from the big kid's perspective, and the perspective of his friends, he's absolutely right and he'll keep on punching the small kid until he relents, hands over his lunch money and the status quo can be restored.
But when you're talking about global politics, maybe we could expect to look at it from the teacher's perspective instead.
How about, for every million pounds currently spent on bombing the hell out of people (even if they're evil - let's give 'our guys' the benefit of the doubt and assume some of the those killed really are bad guys), we instead spend half a million pounds giving them food, medical equipment and supplies, construction equipment, educational materials, etc, etc. Make sure it's all marked "A GIFT FROM YOUR FRIENDS IN THE UK".
And spend the other half million on domestic charities, just to keep the electorate happy.
We could try it for a bit. If it doesn't work, keep on doing it. If it gets stolen or destroyed or lost, keep on doing it. Something will get through eventually. Maybe spend two-thirds of a million and see if that's any better.
And before telling me that I'm hopelessly naive and that it wouldn't work, please try to produce at least one example of an occasion when it was tried.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
This story would be better if I could use real names
Another week, another literary agency sends me a lovely and friendly but ultimately soul-destroying rejection. Yeah, I know, authors need to have thick skins and it's not you it's me and it's just personal taste and someone else might and there's a lot of good and we cannot enter into any further correspondence goodbye.
This one was a bit special. I'd read about this agency and thought it was the right one for me. I haven't contacted any of them in a few years because I thought it would be better to spend the time writing, rather than reformatting to some agent's personal preference and printing and packaging and taking it to the Post Office to queue and weigh and pay. I thought it was better to do some writing than to spend six to eight weeks (months?) waiting to hear back
(I thought that might be too bitter so I struck through the last seven words. But I left them for those who would just nod and smile rather than think badly of me.)
So, I thought this one would actually be the one. And I was wrong. Maybe next time.
But I thought sending out a rejection email at 10pm on a Saturday was a bit unnecessary. Even a friendly one.
Here's a bit of it. Any identifying features removed. There was more - so if it seems brief that's my fault for trimming.
Part of the reason that I've taken a while is that I do keep coming back to your work, but I'm afraid that therein lies the problem: I am finding it too easy to put it down in the first place. You write very well, but I'm just not hooked, so I'm sorry to say that I can't offer representation...[I removed plenty from here] ...I'm also really sorry that I just don't have the time to enter into correspondence about what's not working for me, but I do wish you the very best of luck.This wasn't meant as catharsis, but I couldn't resist sending something back the next morning. Here's part of it:
I understand enough about the work of a literary agent to appreciate that you can't work with anything you're not passionate about... [content removed]
Personally, I find it ridiculous (if slightly amusing from a schadenfreude perspective) to read ... accounts of agents and publishers who turned down Harry Potter (or Fred Astaire or the Beatles or...). They're always written as though someone turned down a successful seven-book, eight-film, toy-range conglomerate - rather than an early draft of a single book about kids with magic going to school. No, I don't think I've written the next Harry Potter.
And I also discovered that you represent [famous writer that I really like]. I always wondered if I could get a copy of They All Die At The End to [him/her] - for some reason I thought it might appeal to [him/her] and that it would be a reciprocation for how much I've enjoyed [his/her] work over the years. I've never tried to do anything about getting [him/her] a copy before today. So, if [he/she] would like to read it (absolutely no strings attached, naturally), I would be happy to send [him/her] a copy - just let me know where to send it.
... [content removed]...
P.S. If I can be permitted one tiny critical comment... No one wants to read a rejection at 10pm on a Saturday night. I'd batch them up and send them all out first thing Monday morning.
Maybe the P.S. was cheeky but I really thought I should flag it up in proactive defence of the next guy. Honestly. Not sour grapes - public service.
Turns out it was my fault for reading it on a Saturday night. Here's the reply:
Hope you don't object to a Sunday morning response! ... I guess we should all keep off screens at weekends.
I don't send unrequested books to [famous writer] as [he/she] gets so much I'm afraid...
Ben Folds wrote a song called Free Coffee ("And when I was broke, I needed it more, But now that I'm rich, They give me coffee") - so it's not just successful writers struggling with the problem of free merchandise. Although in Ben's case he can just drink the coffee and is unlikely to have it thrust into his hand wherever he goes - presumably [famous author] doesn't want the hassle of disposing of unwanted books which could well have been made with cheap glue in the binding, thereby making them impossible to recycle. Like these ones.
Another author told me about the problem of unsolicited books turning up in the post. And John Crace wrote a great article with advice for aspiring authors, including the salient point that agents and publishers really don't care what he thinks about a book - they'll make their own decision. At least, that's how I remember it. I can't find the article now but I did find this which is also good.
No sympathy required, dear reader. I am back on the horse and the next agent is, I'm sure, even as I type, even as you read, repeatedly picking up and putting down (or vice versa) my books.
***
If you've got this far, you'll forgive (won't you?) my adding that my four (count 'em!) books are available as paperbacks and would make excellent Christmas presents.
If you buy them direct from me, I'll even sign them and, if you like, write the dedication of your choice (as long as it's neither rude nor lengthy).
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
The creative process (that's a terrible title, with any luck I'll think up a better one and replace it)
Last night, in a small basement room under a bar in Stoke Newington (or The Waiting Room, to use its proper name), I saw three bands.
While that's technically true, the second and third had the same people. They swapped positions a little (lead vocal became backing vocal and vice versa) and sang a different style of song. Oh, and they had the same bass player as the first band.
I haven't seen anything like that since The Folksmen supported Spinal Tap at Wembley Arena. (The similarity begins and ends with the versatility. I'm not comparing performance, musicianship, song-writing. Obviously.)
I don't intend to review the performances - other than to say that I thought they were utterly beguiling and excellent. I'd love people to buy Devon Sproule's records because I think they'd enjoy them and it would encourage her to record more and tour more often.
And, for the first time in my life, I was on the guest list. It would have been well worth paying but there's that extra frisson of excitement (bear with me) at just dropping your name and walking in. (It was a perk for backing her Kickstarter project, which also led to a highly infectious new album.)
I am, of course, being highly unfair to Bernice and Batsch - the other two bands last night - by not naming them until the sixth paragraph. But this isn't a review piece.
It occurred to me that, every night, in basement rooms up and down the country (and around the world), excellent music is being played that would appeal to vast numbers of people if only they knew it was there.
And that, after all the creation that goes into writing the songs, rehearsing them till they click and flow and glide, recording them and mixing them - and after the administrative nightmare that must be the touring process - there's no way of making sure that everyone who would love to hear the songs will ever hear them.
This is no one's fault. Of course. I'm not suggesting that if [insert name of band I don't like] ceased to exist then all their marketing budget could be better spent on [insert name of band I do like]. My taste is no better than anyone else's. Well, it's better for predicting what I'm going to enjoy - but that's about it.
I'll leave you to draw the parallel to the world of publishing.
***
It also reminded me of the band I used to play in, all those years ago. No, we never recorded. No, we never toured. It was a pre-mid-life-crisis band playing to friends and family in tiny rooms above, below or beside pubs. And on a boat once - yes, that was surprising for me too.
We had fun (sometimes), made a loud noise (many times) and never stopped the audience from talking very loudly all the way through our set. Eventually it collapsed - many reasons - there were too many who thought they were the lead including, bizarrely, the singer. And our lead guitarist finally emigrated, thereby putting a few thousand miles between himself and the rest of us.
I didn't look at the bands last night and wonder about what could have been. I know what could have been. We could have carried on playing two or three gigs each year to the same group - which would gradually have thinned out as the demands of arranging babysitting, the exhaustion of working (yeah, all that typing, preparing powerpoint presentations and studying Gantt charts can really take it out of you) and having better things to do finally took their toll.
Instead, I looked at the bands last night, loved the music and felt nostalgia (the good sort, the wistful sort, the sort that gives you a warm glow from gut to shoulder blades) slap me about a bit.
No conclusion to this meander - but it's making me smile.
While that's technically true, the second and third had the same people. They swapped positions a little (lead vocal became backing vocal and vice versa) and sang a different style of song. Oh, and they had the same bass player as the first band.
I haven't seen anything like that since The Folksmen supported Spinal Tap at Wembley Arena. (The similarity begins and ends with the versatility. I'm not comparing performance, musicianship, song-writing. Obviously.)
I don't intend to review the performances - other than to say that I thought they were utterly beguiling and excellent. I'd love people to buy Devon Sproule's records because I think they'd enjoy them and it would encourage her to record more and tour more often.
And, for the first time in my life, I was on the guest list. It would have been well worth paying but there's that extra frisson of excitement (bear with me) at just dropping your name and walking in. (It was a perk for backing her Kickstarter project, which also led to a highly infectious new album.)
I am, of course, being highly unfair to Bernice and Batsch - the other two bands last night - by not naming them until the sixth paragraph. But this isn't a review piece.
It occurred to me that, every night, in basement rooms up and down the country (and around the world), excellent music is being played that would appeal to vast numbers of people if only they knew it was there.
And that, after all the creation that goes into writing the songs, rehearsing them till they click and flow and glide, recording them and mixing them - and after the administrative nightmare that must be the touring process - there's no way of making sure that everyone who would love to hear the songs will ever hear them.
This is no one's fault. Of course. I'm not suggesting that if [insert name of band I don't like] ceased to exist then all their marketing budget could be better spent on [insert name of band I do like]. My taste is no better than anyone else's. Well, it's better for predicting what I'm going to enjoy - but that's about it.
I'll leave you to draw the parallel to the world of publishing.
***
It also reminded me of the band I used to play in, all those years ago. No, we never recorded. No, we never toured. It was a pre-mid-life-crisis band playing to friends and family in tiny rooms above, below or beside pubs. And on a boat once - yes, that was surprising for me too.
We had fun (sometimes), made a loud noise (many times) and never stopped the audience from talking very loudly all the way through our set. Eventually it collapsed - many reasons - there were too many who thought they were the lead including, bizarrely, the singer. And our lead guitarist finally emigrated, thereby putting a few thousand miles between himself and the rest of us.
I didn't look at the bands last night and wonder about what could have been. I know what could have been. We could have carried on playing two or three gigs each year to the same group - which would gradually have thinned out as the demands of arranging babysitting, the exhaustion of working (yeah, all that typing, preparing powerpoint presentations and studying Gantt charts can really take it out of you) and having better things to do finally took their toll.
Instead, I looked at the bands last night, loved the music and felt nostalgia (the good sort, the wistful sort, the sort that gives you a warm glow from gut to shoulder blades) slap me about a bit.
No conclusion to this meander - but it's making me smile.
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
A sequel
Rather surprisingly (to me, if no one else), I've decided it's time to write the sequel to Timestand.
And, before you say it, people have asked when it's going to come out. Really they have. Clearly I can't answer that question but at least I've started writing the book which is a step in the right direction (and other cliches).
Unless I change things, I've decided to let Tim tell this story himself. It's all going to be written in the first person and, as far as possible, in the present tense. Because when you're mucking about with the timeline as much as I intend to, I think it's only fair to give the reader something to hold onto.
The broad outline is in my mind. The rest I'll make up as I go along. Then I'll iron it all smooth and fix anything that doesn't join together properly. It sounds easy when I describe it like that.
Extracts and preview chapters may appear online if I feel like it. Here's a taster:
And, before you say it, people have asked when it's going to come out. Really they have. Clearly I can't answer that question but at least I've started writing the book which is a step in the right direction (and other cliches).
Unless I change things, I've decided to let Tim tell this story himself. It's all going to be written in the first person and, as far as possible, in the present tense. Because when you're mucking about with the timeline as much as I intend to, I think it's only fair to give the reader something to hold onto.
The broad outline is in my mind. The rest I'll make up as I go along. Then I'll iron it all smooth and fix anything that doesn't join together properly. It sounds easy when I describe it like that.
Extracts and preview chapters may appear online if I feel like it. Here's a taster:
“That’s not how I reacted when I was you,” he says.
Saturday, 5 October 2013
And one final postscript before changing the subject
The post before last gained a very wide readership, sparked some discussions and resulted in my writing a follow-up. I think the subject is now closed.
But I couldn't resist one tiny final postscript.
The subject of that post is only four degrees of separation from me.
And those are proper links - people who know each other, share phone numbers, could call without it being odd or stalkerish.
(But no, I'm not going to say who those links are. Sorry. But believe me.)
But I couldn't resist one tiny final postscript.
The subject of that post is only four degrees of separation from me.
And those are proper links - people who know each other, share phone numbers, could call without it being odd or stalkerish.
(But no, I'm not going to say who those links are. Sorry. But believe me.)
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