Object of Desire

Yesterday, I fell in love.

It was at a supermarket in Totton. I heard her before I saw her - making that low, throaty growl that gets my heart pumping.

And then I saw her. Sleek. Curvy. Elegant yet powerful.

What a beautiful peice of car.

I wandered over to the driver - who was ginger, funnily enough - and said: "That's a '78 Pontiac Firebird, isn't it?"

He did a double take, because most Brits aren't sad enough to know the subtle styling differences that identify a second-generation Firebird's year of manufacture. But I was right and he was dutifully impressed. But not half as much as I was.

You see, Pontiac Firebirds have been a bit of an obsession of mine ever since I owned one in America. Despite a lot of ribbing they get in America, I think the Firebird is a lovely and practical sports car. Enormous engine. Rear wheel drive. Two big seats and enough room to cram two others in a back - plus a boot that could take a couple of suitcases and a set of golf clubs. You could drive across America in one of these and the only thing that would make you uncomfortable would your petrol bill.

I loved this car so much that Adventure Eddy adopted one. In my book, he finds a run down Pontiac in somebody's barn and lovingly restores it to (almost) working order. But in the original draft of my book, he had the same model as mine. A 1991 fuel injected Firebird - one of the third generation cars like Knight Rider.

It looks something like this:

When I saw the '78 model yesterday, though, I knew THIS was the car of my dreams. It was so much longer, sleeker and more muscular than the third generation car. My Firebird in America was designed the way a child draws a sports car - all angular lines and sleek wedges.

There was something subtle and curvy about the older car. The way the wheel arches swoop over the car's haunches. The bonnet detail that looks like an eagle's beak. The delightfully seventies corduroy seats and stainless steel dials.

This is the classic car of my dreams - and I'm going to have it, one of these distant days.

Britain is Doomed...

I've finally figured it out. We're all doomed. But it's not global warming or radical islam we need to be worried about. The biggest danger Britain faces is actually ourselves.

Have you noticed really what a bunch of miserable buggers we are?

In Britain, it seems the desire to moan about our problems is rapidly overtaking the desire to actually do anything about them.

I figured this out as Tina and I started trying to find apartments and cars in America. We asked and we got a lot of information - but instead of getting the skinny on what we SHOULD do, all people told us was what we SHOULDN'T.

Don't move there, it's ghetto.

Don't work for them, they don't pay enough.

Don't buy that make of car, they're unreliable.

That's too expensive. That's too cheap. That's too far away. That's too near.

It suddenly twigged in my brain. THIS is what's holding us back. Our own bloody attitudes.

Look back at history. To the days when the British Empire ruled a quarter of the globe and the Royal Navy dominated the seas. How did we Brits achieve that?

It certainly wasn't by sitting on our backsides, scoffing cookies into our mouth. Do you think Doctor David Livingston ever said to himself: "I don't want to go and explore Africa. Dirt. Flies. Mosquitos. Bugger that for a game of soldiers."

Check out Cecil Rhodes, who said "I want to paint the globe red" and headed off to Africa to claim it for Britain. They named a bloody country after him! You certainly don't get a country named after you if all you dream of doing is getting chosen to be on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

Here's what's wrong with Britain today. We're so preoccupied with what we CAN'T do that we've forgotton to slog on and achieve what we CAN.

Tina's favourite phrase du jour is an ancient Chinese proverb: The Person Who Says it Cannot be Done should not interrupt the Person Doing It.

Let's look at another dominant force in history. America.

Look at the foundation of the United States. Thirteen British colonies who got sick of being taxed without having a say in the matter (it's a misconception that they rebelled against excessive taxing. The tax levels were quite low - but the colonies had no say over the level of taxation or how it was spent.)

If modern attitudes prevailed, the founding fathers would have sat around their local, quaffing pints and complaining about the fussy Brits interferring with how their lives are run - kind of like modern British people do with the Europeon Union.

But instead, the founding fathers started a movement that gave birth to the modern world's first democracy. They decided what they wanted, got up off their backsides and went out to achieve it, despite the obstacles in their way.

It's the American way, isn't it?

1. Decide what you want.


2. Get off your arse.


3. Achieve it.

Distilled down to it's purest form, that's what the American dream is all about.

Think of all the millions of people who left their homes to journey to The New World. The Irish, fleeing the potato famine. The Jews, fleeing persecution in Europe. The Germans - out to grab land in the same way they still like to grab sunbeds. In a global act of Darwinism, the most adventurous and ambitious people went to the New World and became the American people. It's that spirit of endevour that's at the very heart of everything American.

But there's no British equivilant to the American's Dream. Britain has brushed it's imperialistic heritage under an apologetic carpet. Are there any explorers or entrepreneurs left out there?

I don't think so.

Just look at most people's ambitions. The paper printed a list recently. What does the average youngster want to do?

1. Become a pop-star on Pop Idol


2. Marry a premier league footballer and spend his money on designer handbags


3. Win the lottery

It seems modern ambitions revolve around the principle of winning fame, fortune and glory without ever having to make an effort.

And the people who still have an ounce of ambition left? That's soon trodden into the dirt by the prevailing defeatist attitude. People are always focused on what you CAN'T do. Not what you can. There's always a reason why it's not worth getting up off the sofa.

And the terrible thing?

500,000 immigrants arrive in Britain every year willing to do what we won't. They'll live ten to a house, work ninety hour weeks and stack shelves for a living with the stubborn ambition of making their lives whatever they want them to be.

What could we, as a nation, achieve if we still had that spirit of enterprise?

Shilpa Shetty

Shilpa Shetty.

The beautiful Bollywood star has become something of an apologetic heroine in Britain. Ever since Jade Goody launched her "racist" bullying tirade against Shetty in the Big Brother house, the country's scurried in support.

It's quite sad, really. I think Jade Goody's behaviour was a rather awkward insight into what Brits are REALLY like. This love affair with Shilpa seems to be the general public's way of saying "we're not like that... really...."

But of course we are - hence why we were so quick to forgive Jade Goody's cackle-buddy, disgraced Miss England Danielle Lloyd. That and her enormous cleavage.

Anyway. Shilpa was pretty washed out back home in Bollywood. That's probably why she decided to commit career suicide by entering the Big Brother house in the first place. But while her career is still languishing in India - she's made it big in Britain.

Her own show. Endless appearances in magazines... and now she's buying a house in London and starting her own business.

Which is where it all gets a bit silly.

Poor Shilpa was the victim of racial stereotyping. Jade offended her (and the nation, apparently) by calling her "Shilpa Poppadom." Imagine the horror! Making a joke like that just because she's Indian...

But what has the Bollywood babe gone and done?

She's started a chain of curry houses.

Now she could have started a modelling agency - back in India she was known as "The Body."

She could have launched her own beauty products - there were plenty of dark haired women who were delighted to see somebody famous and beautiful bleaching their upper lip.

She could even have started her own dojo - she's a black belt in karate.

But no. She went for the chain of curry houses. After all the fuss and bother of racial stereotyping, she goes and follows it. I wouldn't be surprised if she goes and names the chain "Shilpa Poppadom" just to really grind it in.

It's genius, really. A combination of Britain's two favourite things. Insincere apology and curry.

Best of luck to her, really. Shilpa is a real star - beautiful, talented and intelligent. If anybody's going to milk the British public, I'd prefer it was her. The alternative is Jade Goody - and if trash television like Big Brother has made any positive contribution to society, it was nailing that terrible woman's career.*

Read about the curry catastrophe here.

* Although in retrospect, it also launched her career as well. Endemol has a lot to answer for.

Supporting the good old British drug habit...

Bez.

It's short for Mark Berry, mascot of the British band Happy Mondays.

He took so many drugs in his time, they wrote the song "Freaky Dancin'" in tribute.

A man largely famous for his copious drug abuse and lack of musical ability (NME wrote an article about how his contribution to Happy Mondays was negligible) he has survived recently due to his continued friendship with toothless old Happy Monday's wreck Shaun Ryder.

But things were looking up.

Happy Mondays were back on the scene, ready to play in California.

Except Bez won't be joining them.

If you read the internet or paper, it's due to the draconian regulations of the the US Immigration system. They're not letting ANYBODY in these days.

As Happy Mondays put it: "Happy Mondays apologies to all their US fans that they will not, on this occasion, be able to enjoy the spectacle of Bez shaking his stuff for them at Coachella."

Border control gone mad? You'd think so, given the stories you'll read online. But the reality is somewhat different.

Bez is a druggie. He has been in trouble with the police many times over his drug abuse. Whether he cultivates it - or is just drawn to it - a drug fueled environment exists wherever Mark Berry goes.

So the press might label it further "fascist" regulations by Bush's government. But the fact is, they're just doing what they're meant to do. Keep the bad 'uns off American soil.

John Lennon had serious trouble getting his green card... A left wing, socialist, anti-Vietnam activist, he fought an almost personal skirmish against Richard Nixon. But that wasn't what caused his immigration problems. His propensity for puffing weed got him banned. The rules explicitly state expulsion for anybody who is arrested for ANY drugs offence - bar mere possession of one ounce or less of marijuana.

Something that might well have been called "Lennon's Law."

Those are the rules. And Bez?

He's no John Lennon.

We all make our choices in life. Bez has to accept his. The Happy Mondays will be playing without him. And ironically? It won't effect the quality of their performance at all.

Adventure Eddy...

Well, I got my second rejection today... Adventure Eddy has officially been kicked to the kerb twice.

And you know what?

I've sucked it up. I think the book in it's present incarnation is not publishable.

This doesn't worry me as much as it should. Working in media for the last couple of years, I've learnt a lot. Taking a lot more interest in the publishing industry, I've learnt even more.

The fact is, RULE NUMBER ONE of publishing is that books need a hook.

You need to sum them up in a single line. The hook is....

Da Vinci Code? Guy discovers Vatican have hidden secret of the Holy Grail.

Harry Potter? Teenage boy discovers that he's a wizard.

What was the hook of Adventure Eddy? There wasn't one.

You see, I'd made the mistake of thinking about character and story before concept. And in today's world of 30 second attention spans, CONCEPT is everything.

So I need to rewrite Adventure Eddy.

And it's not just CONCEPT that needs to be looked at. It's the whole thing. But I think step number one is how to make people hear about the book and want to pick it up. In one line, I need to make Adventure Eddy exciting.

So I have a story. I have characters. But I need to reexamine how I tell it.

I have had two ambitions recently. To move to America and to get my book published.

I've SO nearly managed to achieve one of those. Now it's time to look seriously at the other.

Growing Up Ginger

Expatriate Games: Will the last one to leave please turn out the lights?

500 Brits back their bags and head to pastures new every single day here in Britain.

Australia, Spain and France are the post popular destinations. I'm sure the large amounts of affordable wine these countries produce has NOTHING to do with that! But if you're sticking around in England, don't feel lonely.

Even more immigrants - a whopping national average of 565,000 - arrived last year in Britain. 70% of those were Polish. The Poles, in fact, currently make up 10% of Southampton's residents!

So despite the hundreds of Brits calling it quits, the shores of our little island are getting more and more cramped.

It raises a very interesting question. Why is Britain so attractive to immigrants, yet so unappealing to natives?

HMS Warrior

Sometimes, you miss incredible sights just because you're used to them.

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The other day, I was at Portsmouth Historic Dockyard and realised I had my camera with me, so I snapped two pictures of the steam-powered HMS Warrior 1860.

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They're lovely, aren't they?

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It wasn't until I decided to post them on my blog that I looked into the history of this ship. And it's a pretty amazing journey she's gone on.

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She's not just a pretty ship. HMS Warrior is the world's first iron-hulled, ocean going battleship - stunning technology from a time when Britain truly ruled the seas.

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Her hull is flanked by 4.5 inch thick iron plates, making her absolutely impervious to all cannon fire of that period. She was invulnerable and the most powerful warship on the planet in no uncertain terms.

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Classified as a frigate, despite her awesome firepower, the Warrior was powered by both sails and a coal-burning steam engine. This gave her an enormous speed advantage over other ships still reliant on the speed and direction of the wind.

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When she was constructed, HMS Warrior cost a (then) staggering £350,000. Compare that to the cost of a modern day Nimitz class aircraft carrier - an estimated $4.5 billion.

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While the Warrior was incredibly advanced for her day, the march of technology was never more rapid than during the Victorian era. With advances in steam technology, shipbuilding and weaponry, the HMS Warrior quickly became obsolete and was withdrawn from active service in 1883, barely twenty years later. Compare that to the HMS Victory, who's naval career (thanks to the intervention of First Sea Lord Hardy's wife) continued from launch in 1781 to a career as a Naval Telegraph School that continued until 1904.

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The HMS Warrior became a storage hulk, sold by the navy in 1924 and finally finishing up in Pembroke Dock, renamed "Oil Storage Hulk C77." Hardly a fitting fate for a ship that once represented everything tangible about the Pax Britannia - even if she never saw battle.

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It was the Maritime Trust, led by the Duke of Edinburgh, who recognized the important contribution HMS Warrior made to British naval history. The trust was set up in 1970 specifically to save this important ship.

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In 1979, Warrior hit the seas once again to arrive at her new home, Hartlepool, where she underwent an £8 million restoration to return this hulk to her former glory.

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It's ironic that the restoration cost almost 23 times more than the original construction of the ship!

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In 1987, the glorious HMS Warrior finally found her new home, at Portsmouth Historic Dockyards. When I took this photo during an idle moment, I had no idea just what this amazing ship had gone through in it's journey to Portsmouth.

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If you're in Portsmouth, you can visit HMS Warrior and HMS Victory at the Historic Dockyard.

Living the (bad) Dream

Amy Winehouse.

I think she's terrific. Tall. Dark. Gorgeous. Talented. She's the most amazing British artist in recent history - like Lily Allen with more talent and less attitude.

However there's one thing that stops Amy Winehouse totally stealing my heart. She lives the hard livin', hard drinkin' jazz dream just a bit too hard.

I'm watching her right now, on the BBC ONE sessions.

And there she is, looking tall and gorgeous as usual. But when she scoops up the microphone and starts to sing, you can't ignore one small fact.

She's pissed.

Completely off her face.

Slurring her words. Swaying from side to side. Barely able to stand upright.

The live performance is VERY different from the slick music you hear on the radio.

I think she's got real talent. But she needs sort herself out. Not even the boys who lived the rock and roll lifestyle really lived the rock and roll lifestyle. Not like her, anyway.

With upstarts like Pete Docherty, it's fine. Notoriety replaces talent. They're nothing but a smear on modern music anyway.

But Amy? Dear, darling Amy. We like her. She deserves better.

Knut receives DEATH THREAT! Grin and Bear it?

Knut, an adorable bear cub hand reared by zookeeper Thomas Doerflein, has already dodged Darwin's bullet on two occasions.

Abandoned by his mother, Knut only survived when Doerflein took over Mrs Knut's duties and helped the cub struggle through the first weeks of life. Then, outraged 'animal rights' protestors called for Knut's execution (because they love animals so much.)

Just as that threat seemed to pass, an anonymous note arrived at Berlin Zoo with the ominous message: "Knut is Dead! Thursday Midday!"

Fortunately security guards have been posted around Knut's enclosure and the little guy has reduced his public appearances (apparently due to teething and fever... the Diva)

Hopefully he'll stay safe.

Leave Knut alone, dammit!

Time to Emigrate?

Ex Tory MP George Walden like writing letters. Which is a good thing too, since he currently does it for the Times Literary Supplement.

But even the most dedicated correspondent would be daunted by the thought of writing a 200 page letter - but that's exactly what Walden did, during a brief holiday he spent in France. You can discover just what he had to say in Time to Emigrate?

Walden was scribbling to his son, who'd just dropped the bombshell that he and his wife were thinking of emigrating. Their young son had been viciously beaten by a thug just yards from their front door. As the boy emerged from his coma, his thankful parents started to wonder just how safe their "safe" part of North London truly was.

George's letter starts off as a candid response to that suggestion - but evolves into a critical and pessimistic appraisal of modern Britain - and exactly where it's going.

Response to Time to Emigrate? has varied wildly. Some people think it's splendid stuff. Other people have labelled it a bitter rant by a bigoted old Tory. I don't think either of those views are even close to the truth. Walden's letter is just that - a letter he wrote to his son. There's no political manifesto here. The book's puffed-up pomposity is softened by some genuine introspection from George Walden. Unlike many other extended editorials, you genuinely get the feeling that Walden didn't quite know which side of the fence he'd end up on when he started writing Time to Emigrate? I think that's why there's a question mark at the end of the title.

The major controversy of the book concerns the target for most of Walden's criticism. Immigrants. Not the immigrants themselves - Walden's book is forthright about his views, but never crosses into racism. It's more critical about the long term effects immigration is having on our small little island. It's not the immigrants he has a problem with. It's the establishment that is letting them in in such enormous numbers.

He compares it to the alcoholic's "elephant in the living room." A big, enormous thing that everybody pretends not to notice. Political correctness has stifled any real discussion of the issues - issues that deeply effect the British economy and led to events like 7/7's devastating suicide bombings.

I won't tell you where George Walden takes the book. It's worth the afternoon or so it'll take you to read it to reach your own conclusion. One thing's for sure. You'll be wondering about the emigration question by the time you've finished it.

Is it a masterpiece? Far from it. George Walden's 'book' is just an extended letter and for that reason, many will find it opinionated and rambling. Not all of his 'facts' are entirely accurate. But that's actually part of the book's charm. What you're reading is nothing more than a loving father's genuine advice and opinion to his son. He approaches the emigration question with no previous agenda - and that makes the conclusion he reaches just that bit more compelling.

F*** off I'm ginger...

As some of you might have noticed, I was featured on BBC's Body Image documentry "F*** off I'm Ginger" the other night.

I was a bit nervous, but they didn't make me look like an idiot and I got some very surprised reactions (my boss left a voicemail: What are you doing on my television? Get off! I feel violated!)

Tina got a kick out of it too... Checking the ripples the program made on the internet a few days later, we found this comment from called Cybernoob:

"I thought the program was good and your guy presentin it was great. Just shows in America and other countrys no such problems exist wih redheads and is actually mostly embraced. Did you see that Italian woman that guy married in America? Hot hot hot!"

Yes. I married a hottie. Not bad for a ginger.

Online Showreel

AMENDMENT: Due to website traffic issues, copyright concerns and the fact that it looked terrible, I have canned my ambitious 'online showreel' ideas until I can actually read "Website Management For Dummies" and get it working properly.

I'm all up for getting some transatlantic agencies interested in my blistering writing skills. But a childish grasp of HTML and links that time out after two listens don't really illustrate "attention to detail."

Somebody once said: "If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing right." Alternatively, that could be: "If a job's done half-arsed, maybe it wasn't worth doing in the first place."

Watch this space. My Online Showreel will right again.

In the interests of facilitating future transatlantic recruitment, I have assembled an intricate Online Showreel of commercials I've written.

Unfortunately my slightly sketchy WebHost has forbidden anybody from studying it. Apparently they think the whole idea of OTHER PEOPLE visiting your website to be an aberration.

So until I have figured that stuff out, I have knocked up a temporary showreel using good ol' blogger. Please feel free to go and have a listen to a few commercials I have put together here.

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I've only put up a few because it's quite labour intensive and obviously I don't want to propagate the web with copyright material. However hopefully these commercials are a good indication of my writing experience and will put me in good stead with any agencies or companies considering hiring me in the future.

Dr Smith and Jones

The new series of Doctor Who opened up with an episode called Smith and Jones.

It was the introduction of new companion Martha Jones - the Jones in the title (and presumably another nod towards Welsh culture by Uber-Taff Russell T. Davies.)

The Smith was the Doctor himself - who's adopted the moniker "Dr Smith" ever since his early days as John Pertwee.

In last night's episode, we met Martha Jones, a trainee doctor at London's Royal Hope hospital (placed just opposite Big Ben for the benefit of the American audience.)

She turns up to work on a Very Bad Day. A day in which her hospital, including all 1,000 staff and patients, is transported to the surface of the moon - neutral territory which allows a brutal intergalactic police force to arrive searching for a single alien criminal.

But there's more than one alien in the hospital. The Doctor is there himself - and he's got to find the real criminal before the Intergalactic Police pin this crook's crimes on him!

It was 45 minutes of fun and adventure - brilliant from beginning to end. I've had wobbly moments with Russell T. Davies ever since he regurgitated that rubbish Torchwood onto our TV screens... But with Doctor Who he very rarely misses the bullseye and tonight's episode showed his aim is spot on at the moment.

Martha Jones is a lovely new character - brilliant and brave. She's also stunningly beautiful. The first authentic 'hottie' I've seen on British TV since I moved back here in 2004.

Russell T. Davies - You've done us Doctor Who fans proud if last night's episode is anything to go by. Now PLEASE get your head together, abandon those Welsh and Gay chips on your shoulder and get the same magic together for the next series of Torchwood.