So here’s a thing. We’re doing another blog reading. This one won’t be a fierce competition and hopefully Biscuit won’t decide to read a long story about periods, but we will be live, reading some stuff and you can come and laugh at our faces. In fact we’d like it if you did.
More importantly it’s being organised by the excellent Kit Lovelace of MyLoveLifeInYourHands fame (remember the dude we went to New York with) and will feature a load of other also excellent people reading funny things about relationships.
Not sold yet?
This will also be a rare chance to see proof that Biscuit isn’t dead and if you felt the need to heckle him about not writing more posts, well I wouldn’t have a problem with that*
If that’s not enough to tempt you there will be bongo action, a selection of hats and at least a couple of jokes that were considered too rude for Radio 4.**
If you say you like the blog we may even buy you a drink.
*Please do this after the show, heckling during a performance is an awful habit.
I’ve just had an amazing idea for a dot-com. It’s so good I’m going to put it on this secret blog in the hopes that a bored multi-millionaire spots it and emails me to buy the idea. That happens right?
Here is the problem: You never know what someone is like before you date them.
Solution: A website where people are reviewed by ex-girlfriends and boyfriends so you can find out what they are like before you agree to meet them for coffee. Sort of like Trip Advisor but with people.
Just think about it, knowing the sort of reviews someone had got from previous dates would allow you to skip a whole category of berks. It would be like trying to find the perfect hotel, but with people ‘I’m looking for someone who has at least three stars on empathy with access to a pool’ or, ‘Good value for money, better than I expected and very clean.’
It would be brilliant, or at least better than Klout (which is officially the worst thing ever but people still talk about it).
The only real problem I can see with it is that by asking previous dates to rate them you’d probably get a lot of negative scores. (NEVER CALLED ME BACK -5 points). Oh well that’s a thing for someone else to solve, I’m just an ideas guy.
My old chum the art dealer is on Operation Lock That Shit Down (I still need a better name for it). She knows rings and stuff and has been a friend for years. Ideal for being an adviser. She was going to help with the picking and help me get ‘a deal’ but she’s off to Ireland for two months.
No help for me.
But she just happened to bump into a diamond dealer she knows in the street (yes that really happens). She mentioned my name and he’s going to do me a deal, apparently. He’s now in my phone as ‘dealer’ which may backfire as a plan (It does make me feel cool and edgy) but now I’ve got a contact.
We’ve just spoken. I’m going to go and see him on Monday and talk about rings. This does mean that I have to find out more about various types of cuts and what TP likes without arousing her suspicion.
He also said if I take a photo of her hand he can probably size it from that. GET IN.
Also now I’ve told a real person about the proposal, it feels a little bit more real. That’s quite scary. Still no turning back, this is definitely the right thing to do.
I have made myself homeless a few times, because I am a berk. By homeless I usually mean forgetting keys or foolishly ending up in a situation where I have no where to sleep, or stay. I mention it because I managed this yesterday, while wearing shorts but I survived and TP only mocked me for a little while.
Confused? Let me list two classics.
I was watching it on the telly it seemed nice. Some friends phoned up and said they were there and that they had a spare ticket and asked me I want to come along. It was lovely weather and I was living only about 30 minutes away. So I hopped into a car and drove over. This is what I packed: a spare shirt, three apples half a bottle of mead. No tent, no warm clothes.
On the way over I stopped to pick up some hitch-hikers (It seemed the right thing to do on the way to Glastonbury). They were two chaps who revealed they had just got out of jail and they were going to sell drugs. Don’t worry they didn’t kill me.
My friends said were at ‘the gate’. There is no gate, there are eight. Also my chums hadn’t taken their mobiles along so they’d phone from a pay phone, give awful instructions and then I wouldn’t meet them. I managed to sneak in eventually by giving a man ten pounds.
The festival was fun but going there on my own was strange. I talked to some people, walked around for hours saw some strange acts. Ate a cookie and the eventually fell asleep for a bit in a field while watching Fight Club. I couldn’t stay awake for the ending so I had no idea about the twist for months.
After 36 hours of walking I was pretty tired, but I was too scared to sleep properly.
Eventually I did find my friends and it was aces. I was so glad to be able to sleep somewhere safe. While we slept someone robbed the tent.
Lesson learned: Tents aren’t secure but if you’re going to a festival you probably should pack one, sleeping bags are nice too.
I was living with a girl for a while (as chums). It started off okay and then strange things happened. One of which was she instigated a curfew. I had to be in bed and silent by 10.30. The flat was pretty far out of London so it took about an hour and a half to get to it from Soho. If I came home after then, there would be WORDS.
So this meant by a 8ish I had to decide if a night out was going to be a big one that would coast all the way through till 8am or end it there. It’s hard to tell. I got it wrong a few times and so ended up walking across London a few times just to kill time (if I stopped moving I got cold) I got very fit but sometimes my shoes cut my feet to ribbons and I’d have to wash blood out of my socks.
Lesson learned: There isn’t a lot to do in London between about 3am and 6am.
Previously the Theatre Producer and I went on holiday to Serbia for a wedding.
This time it’s a proper ‘do nothing’ holiday somewhere hot. We’re going away for an entire week with no plans apart from sleeping a lot and reading books, by a pool. I can’t wait.
Although I’m not sure that the Theatre Producer is prepared for what will happen.
I get restless if I don’t have something to do, I can do a lazy weekend, just, but after that I get a bit, bouncy. Colouring in books will only keep me amused for so long. I have a lot of energy, I was a bit of a naughty child and I think by about day three I’ll be running laps of the villa making dinosaur noises, at 3am.
I almost feel sorry for her, or at least I would if velociraptors knew what pity was. Roar!
I’ve got plans for this V. Day. They will probably go pretty well which will make a boring story. Instead here are three bad Valentine’s Days I have had.
1) The one with the gift
I’d been seeing a girl for a while. It was Valentine’s Day. I decided to get something from Tiffany’s for her. Just a little frippery. I also managed to pull in some favours and get a table at a super trendy restaurant.
I dressed in my smartest clothes and sauntered over the the restaurant a little early. Smiling to myself the whole time in a slightly smug way about how aces the evening I had planned was going to be.
She didn’t turn up. I got stood up on Valentine’s Day by my girlfriend. Never has so much pity been poured on one man while he eats bread sticks.
Lesson learned: Never smile in a smug way on the way to a date.
Fail rating: Moderate
2) The one with the costume
It was Valentine’s Day. I was single, so were most of my chums We were at university. Our logic told us that the nightclubs would be OVERFLOWING with girls who were up for some company. This was our moment. Our time.
We decided to up things even more by going out in costume, because like that always attracts girls. Fancy dress for the win!
I went out in my Storm Trooper armour (Star Wars, not Nazi). Let’s not go into why I had a suit of Storm Trooper armour, that’s a story for another time. Let’s just say that it looks AMAZING.
It’s like totally out of the films. The only problem is it’s uncomfortable and the helmet means you can’t see very well.
Anyway we went out to the club, and the Storm Trooper armour was causing a scene. I was like King OF THE WORLD. I had a few drinks and then hit the dance floor. Soon a crowd of girls were dancing around me. I was like the Fonze, but in white.
The dancing got a bit flirty. Not like sexy or anything, just you know. There was some co-ordination, we were rocking OUT.
This one girl and me. She seemed hot (my vision was very restricted) and we were getting on well. It was just us dancing together for hours. Some time later I took my helmet off to talk to the girl and see if she wanted to take the dance somewhere more private…
It wasn’t a girl. It was a man. With a beard. Called Patrick.
Lesson learned: I can’t tell someone’s gender while wearing my Storm Trooper armour. This might explain why Storm Troopers are such terrible shots in the films.
Fail rating: Low (Patrick and I became good friends)
3) The one with the flowers
It’s Valentine’s day. I’ve been flirting outrageously with a person at work. We’ve been for drinks but nothings happened yet, but boy, did I want it to happen.
I decided to get her some flowers for Valentine’s Day. Hours are spent fretting over the message (not too serious, fun, mildly mocking) and the flowers (£50 of flowers delivered at work, mostly Lilies, no roses.).
The flowers were ordered and I got to sit around smirking to myself about when they would arrive. They did. They went down well. GET IN.
Then some more flowers arrived. Some other blighter was trying to win her affection with plants. This would not do.
I found somewhere else that could deliver in the same day, ordered twice as many flowers and an even more amusing but like ‘here are some flowers I got you, but like what-ever’ message to go with them.
They arrived, and blew her away. In your face other flower buying man. I had won.
I’d won for about an hour. Then another bouquet arrived, and it was even bigger than the one I’d just sent.
Reeling from this I wondered around in a daze. Then I did the one thing I could do. I phoned the flower place and ordered EVEN MORE FLOWERS. Ha. He wouldn’t be expecting that right? This was bound to work. A message was composed and then a catastrophic amount of flowers arrived at work.
POW! Out of the park. I’d definitely won this time. There was no way I couldn’t have won, right? It was like Rocky and I’d just delivered a knock out blow. In your face The Man.
Wrong. More flowers arrived, they were so large it took two people to carry them. The whole office stopped working to watch two burly men manhandle a titanic bouquet to the girl’s desk. I thought about ordering more but it was home time now and I had ran out of money.
Lesson learned: When it comes to total war with flowers the only winners are the florists.
Fail rating: High – I was on the rice only diet for a few weeks because I’d spent too much. We did end up dating eventually but it was a disaster. I hate rice now.
After quite a lot of waffle about woe. I thought I’d lighten the mood a bit with three of my most cringe-worthy dating moments. These might be in order of badness, I haven’t decided yet.
A Holiday camp in France, sometime in the 90s
My first holiday with friends. I was about 13, I went with two friends and their parents. It was really exciting.
We stayed in huge tents and spent all day swimming, buying bangers or pumping coins in to dated arcade machines. It was the first time I’d ever heard Stairway to Heaven. It blew my mind.
My two friends quickly got rather pretty ‘holiday girlfriends’ and spent a lot of time snogging them in the café.
I did not. So to cure this they took me on a tour of the holiday camp, presenting me like a socially awkward horse to all the ladies in vaguely the right age-range to see if any of them would go out with me.
They didn’t. I spent a whole afternoon being peered at from caravans followed by a slow shaking of heads. Just thinking about it still makes me shiver.
Secondary school, first week
We had a sort of trial week where we went to the big school. It was very exciting because it was a BIG SCHOOL with thousands of pupils. I was 11. My previous school had 4 people in my year.
It was a culture shock. I spent the entire time worried that someone would trick me into taking LSD and/or flush my head down the loo.
There was a girl there, she wasn’t actually going to the school but had gone along for a week to be with her friends. I fancied her and wrote her name all over my pencil case.
I wrote her a letter too, after the week. The letter was quite cool but for reasons I don’t quite understand still. I used a stamp on the envelope to make it look like it had lip marks all over it. Huge red lip marks.
This turned it from a private message of affection into something her HUGE brothers found. There was quite a lot of mocking. I was at the same sailing club as her brothers, they were instructors. I got wet.
House party somewhere remote, after being at an awful club
I went to a terrible club near where I grew up. It was the only club in a small town. They showed RUDE VIDEOS in the bar. My DJ partner and I arrived late and sober because we’d been at a gig. This sounds cooler than it is, as far as I remember we’d been DJing in the function room at a golf club.
Some friends of my DJ chum were there, which is why we’d gone to this dive. We chatted for a bit and had a couple of drinks. There was a girl there.
She took a shine to me, I knew this because when we were stuffed into a tiny car going back to her place she kept licking my ear and biting my leather jacket (vintage 70s obviously).
Back at the house she invited me to stay in her bed. I did. Then my DJ chum appeared and jumped in too. Things got awkward, because she didn’t seem to want him to go.
I’ll never know if she was trying to arrange a threesome or not because I spent the rest of the evening and most of the morning shivering in in the kitchen in just my underpants (I’d left my clothes in the room when I stormed off) until her parents reappeared…