A little project...

"There is no such thing as conversation. It is an illusion. There are interesting monologues, that is all." Rebecca West

I am a FASCINATING guy.

I've lived and worked in Paris and New York. I've had some crazy adventures. I like history and classic cars and can mix a martini that would make Ian Fleming weep with pleasure.

Which, as far as I'm concerned, makes me a FASCINATING guy.

But the fact is, I'm not half as fascinating as I think I am. Just about everybody I meet is going to be distracted by somebody they find far more fascinating - themselves.

We're all totally self obsessed.

Which is entirely natural - just ask any psychologist. The whole psychology business is founded on people paying their therapist to listen to how interesting they are.

But sadly, we're not nearly as fascinating as we believe we are. That explains why we have to pay psychologists to listen to us. If they weren't getting paid, they'd be far more interested in talking about themselves.

In today's fast-paced society, the emphasis of everybody's existence seems to be themselves. It's Me! Me! Me! The world is as we see it. Politics, economics... even the weather. Our opinion on anything is shaped purely by how it affects us.

And if there's one thing we all like more than thinking about ourselves, it's talking about ourselves. We're our favorite topic of conversation! It's a pity more people don't realise how fascinating we are, because we could talk about ourselves all day! In fact, we're dying to!

So here's a project for you. Find five people you see every day, but don't know that well. (For me, it's easy. Pick five engineers in the office who I'm on 'nodding' terms with.)

Find out their names (hooray for name badges on the door!) and then ask them something... Nicely, pleasantly... Conversationally. Ask anything that gets them to reveal something about themselves you didn't know before.

Why, you ask?

Well, because people love taking about themselves - and if you engage five virtual strangers in brief conversation and find out something new about them, they'll end up walking off with a rosy feeling - happy that you took an interest in them. What's more, you'll have something to talk to them about the next time you see them.

It's a simple and (virtually) effortless way to become five times more popular in just one day.

If you can't be bothered to play the 'five person' game, at least mull over this suggestion - that you can often appear more 'interesting' simply by shutting up and listening to what somebody says to you, instead of trying to impress them by telling them all about yourself.

When Egos Attack

5AMENDMENT: Jack neatly pointed out in the comments section below that I'd made a glaring mistake. Good old Johnny Vaughn is the number one COMMERCIAL presenter in London. Chris Moyles, paid as he is out of the BBC's never ending advert-free back pocket, is 'non' commercial. And so manages to reign over London's listeners by a comfortable margin.

Overpaid chubmeister Chris Moyles recently lost out to Capital Radio's Johnny Vaughn as most listened to breakfast presenter in London - so you can understand him being a little bitter. (This is actually incorrect. Please see amendement above.)

That must only have been compounded when he also lost out on an interview with midget du jour David Gest, who turned up 15 minutes late for his spot on Radio 1's breakfast show.

Understanding as always, Moyles ranted: "Don't stand me up you freaky little man! Get your ass in my building. I don't care how many of the bloody Jacksons you know. That dude better come in crawling on his hands and knees."

When Gest did manage to wrangle his way through the West End's traffic, Chris Moyles had him banned from the studio.

BBC's most celebrated pie eater declared: "I'm shaking I'm so angry. If I was tough I'd kill someone today!"

Being on radio, of course, denied us all the pleasure of watching Moyle's jowls wobbling in fury.

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David Gest, who's major claim to fame is being Liza Minnelli's ex husband, kept his mouth shut and remained dignified despite the porky presenter's verbal tirade.

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You can hear what Chris Moyles had to say here...

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It is, of course, great radio.

Your Life, Your Choices and Making the most of them.

In three weeks, Tina and I finally move back to America.

It's taken YEARS for this to happen. Like a carrot on a stick, the move to New York has always bobbed tantalisingly along in front of us, without ever drawing closer. But now, all of a sudden, the momentous occasion is here. And as exciting as it is, it's also terrifying.

It's terrifying because success or failure in America is entirely down to me.

That's what the American dream is all about, I guess. Going to a new world and grabbing opportunity by the horns. But a little voice in the back of my head constantly warns me that I might not be good enough, tough enough or lucky enough.

Confidence is a very strange thing, isn't it? Some people don't have any. Other people have bucket loads of it. A few have abundant confidence when it's quite clear to everybody that they shouldn't. And confidence often means everything.

Imagine your first impressions of somebody. Straight back. Good eye contact. A firm handshake. Confidence is all it takes to make a good impression.

Confidence is attractive and admirable. Confidence inspires people around you - and in America, confidence can sometimes open doors for you that diplomas and degrees can't.

When I move to America, from day one, I have to work on my confidence.

But maybe my confidence introspection is the first of the American opportunities I've promised to grab by the horns. I mean, the move to America in itself is one enormous opportunity. I will be thrown into a new marketplace and the people I meet there will have no preconceptions of me. If I can find what I need within myself, I can be whoever I want to be in America.

It's not so much a reinvention. More of a reworking. Just like they upgraded Tintin in the 70's by hiding the reporter's plus fours and giving him some drainpipe jeans instead. Keep the bits that are good - the bits that make me me - and work on fixing the behavioral niggles that my yapping little confidence monster tells me need work.

I'm sure it can be done. After all, isn't behaviour learned? Surely it can be unlearned and we can teach ourselves to behave in a different way. Just like you can bolster confidence by lying to yourself (I'm confident really, psyche. That quivering bottom lip is just a temporary and very localised form of Parkinson's.)

From day one in America, I need to make sure I'm pretending to be exactly who it is I want to be. And just like when you fib to yourself about your confidence, eventually the lie becomes reality and the person you're pretending to be actually becomes the person you are.

But that just begs the question: Who am I? Followed by: Who do I want to be?

Well, I won't list all my bad points. Not because I don't have them (I'm painfully aware that I do... Doesn't everybody?) But more because there is the chance that potential employers might read this blog at some point and I would hate for them to discover my paper-clip kleptomania .

Instead, I should list the positive steps I should make from day one in America to make sure I look and feel and act like the man I want to be.

Dressing the Part

Writing scripts is great. The whole showbiz side of radio is great. For six months or so, it was fantastic to skip with the suits and ties and go to work in jeans and a scruffy shirt. But scruffy isn't really who I am. In America and Paris, plus two years in Sales, I was always the smartly dressed one. Putting on a tie was kind of like putting on a suit of armour. It immediately made me feel smarter, more confident and more able to succeed.

So I think one of the first things I should do in America is start 'dressing the part.' Somebody once said 'it's better to be overdressed than under dressed' and in the world of Fifth Avenue fashion, I'm sure that's never been more accurate. Slick, stylish - and by default, more confident.

I'm the Boss of Me

Looking back at the most awkward problems I've encountered, I see they've all stemmed from the same problem. An inability to say no.

When you're lacking self esteem, you're eager to please. I'm always willing to say yes to things, even when they're not necessarily the best, most practical or even possible options- and that means almost every time I've felt the 'stress' vein pulse in my temples, it's because I've promised too much.

So instead of stressing out, from America Day 1, I've just got to be willing to look people in the eye and say: "No. I can't do that. Not without the benefit of the TARDIS, anyway."

Do Everything. Always.

In complete contradiction to the above, I've got to make sure I continue doing something that I've always been pretty good at. Taking opportunities.

In America, the world is my oyster. Think of the opportunities out there for a moderately talented man, free from the stigma of being Ginger and possessing a British accent!

Writing. Performing. There must be a million different side streets I could march down in the hope that they'd open up on whole new avenues of adventure. As long as I go ahead and actually do things.

I try and update my blog every day. I've been moderately successful getting stuff published and I've recently wound up on BBC television. Small fry, really. But imagine if I really got my head down and threw everything I had towards making 'something' of myself in New York.

I'm sure millions try it. New York is almost as full of struggling actors and writers as Los Angeles. But none of them are me. And maybe if I believe in myself enough (you see, it all comes down to confidence) I'll actually be able to capture some of the tantalising dreams America has teased me with.

Plus, I'm going to get a 9 to 5 to pay the rent. That's where a lot of struggling writers and actors fall down.

In Conclusion

I'm terrified.

Turning up in New York, with hardly two dollar bills to rub together, is possibly the scariest and most ambitious thing I've ever done. But I have a reluctant wife loyally by my side and friends and family to help point us in the right direction.

Just like a tightrope walker, when Tina and I arrive in America we can't look down. We just have to take one unsteady step after another until we're soaring above the circus crowd without any fear whatsoever.

I don't believe it right now. I'm sweating a little and I've got butterflies doing aerobatics in my stomach. But when I arrive in New York, I'm going to stand up straight and pretend there's never been a doubt in my mind. Hell, who knows. Maybe after long enough, I'll start believing it.

Look out, Big Apple. Here I come.