Room 101

There’s one TV show more than any other I’d like to appear on, and it made a return tonight. Better yet Frank Skinner has picked up the reins from Paul Merton and before him Nick Hancock. Two comic giants (in stature, but not a good way) who loved their own ‘wit’ so much they’ve hopefully both fallen into the abyss of the show they presented. I am, of course, talking about Room 101.

If nothing else it’s return should hopefully put an end to them making any more of those Grumpy Old Men shows (tip – if you want me to watch your show don’t sell it to me with Rick Wakeman looking even more miserable than usual) which as far as I can tell served the same purpose i.e. a chance to sound off at those everyday things that tick you off.

The only trouble I’d have would be deciding which of my long list I’d prioritise. Each has its merits though I’m sure you’ll disagree with some of them. And so here would be my contenders:

H from Steps (Are we still meant to believe H stands for ‘hyper’?!)

Writing greetings cards (None worse than a colleague’s card passed around requiring a witty entry, especially when it’s already been passed round most of the office and every conceivable way of saying happy birthday/congratulations/sorry you’re leaving has been written already)

Nickelback (No explanation needed)

T4 presenters (All nauseating, perhaps none moreso than Alex Zane)

The word ‘lush’ (Generally said by women who think that pouting at a camera will improve their appearance. I don’t care where it came from, if you’re post-puberty it sounds the equivalent of your parents saying groovy)

Tractors (Leaving trails of shit everywhere at a very slow pace)

Text speak (Fine in a text but otherwise makes you look like an illiterate tw@)

Window cleaners (For scaring the crap out of me when they suddenly appear at my window and making me so self-conscious I have to hide in my own house)

The Lighthouse Family (*Shudder*)

Supermarket till operators (Making you ask for carrier bags and then sneering when you tell them you need more than the derisory amount they’ve given you for your week’s shopping. You have too much power.)

The phrase “you smashed it!” (Like the phrase “Have a nice day”, sounds authentic coming from an American but over-used and ridiculous on The X Factor thanks to airheads Cheryl Cole and now Tulisa)

Northern Rail (Went from several unfortunate years of being a daily passenger to living next door to a track they constantly work on, apparently requiring a round-the-clock alarm)

Middle Lane drivers (It’s an overtaking lane! If there’s nothing on the left pull in!)

Facebook (Or specifically people who like their own status or write something vague hoping someone will ask, “what’s up hun?” If you tell the world every time you’re “feeling sad :-(” it’s probably because you’re the type of person who thinks the world needs to know))

UB40 (White man reggae – say no more)

Obnoxious drivers (Who pull out of junctions forcing you to slow down. And lazy fat bastards that park in disabled bays with no badge. And BMW drivers (Obnoxious without exception. I test drove one before buying my current one – the salesman refused to tell me the price of the car until I complained!)

Jamie Oliver (I shop at Sainsbury’s in spite of, not because of that overly-cockney prick)

Nicholas Cage (Does he only accept parts requiring a whiny voice?)

Automated phone systems (Why is there never an option to just speak to someone to point you in the right direction?)

ITV (I’ll take it back if you can name me a decent comedy they’ve ever made)

Good Enough by Dodgy (We’ve all heard it more than enough by now haven’t we?)

Singers (Specifically those that sing whilst looking straight at you, leading you to feel you have to react to them by smiling inanely throughout. Seeing them doing it to others is just as awkward)

Horse people (generally middle-aged toff housewives who spend their bored lives irritating other road users by either driving their husband’s land rover they can barely see out of or grinding traffic to a halt as they take their scarily large-eyed pets for a walk down a main road)

Or at least that would have been the contents of my list until I started training. Like the latest niggling injury that’s kept me sidelined for the past week, there are nuisances out there that runners suffer week in week out. That being the case my list would now be:

Wind

Hills

Dog turd

Drivers that don’t give you a wide berth

That Benny Hill runner who overtook me

....and Horse people

The explanations for each are self-explanatory and, as innocent as each might seem by itself, have collectively given me plenty of cause for wanting them banished to Room 101.

Chances are I’ve offended each person reading this with at least one of those items I’ve listed and so I apologise in advance. My saving grace would be that they limit you to accepting just 3 items, no doubt for moaners like me who could rattle on all night given half the chance!

On second thoughts I hope they don’t cancel Grumpy Old Men. It looks far more likely that I’m better suited to it.

MM

Parenthood

I’d like to start 2012’s blog by thanking the (to remain anonymous) person that sent word that my silence was making me “conspicuous by my absence”. I like to think that suggests some James Bond-like mission that has kept me out of contact for a few weeks. Or a coma-inducing festive social calendar that still has me scratching my head as to my recent drunken whereabouts.

The answer is sadly / happily quite the opposite. Now I realise most of my followers know what’s happened, but I’ve got to think of my future international subscribers and inexplicable current ones (who, according to Google, mainly live in Russia) that don’t. And besides I think there’s still some room for explanation.

A week after you last heard from me I was blessed with the arrival of a healthy baby girl. After all the ups and downs, food cravings and mood swings the 9 ½ month wait was over. It hadn’t been easy for Emma either.

So clearly my priorities have been elsewhere whilst I get to grips with becoming a parent. And how am I finding it so far? Well it feels like I’m doing it single-handedly. Not by myself, but literally. Ned Flanders might have found a career in selling left-handed utensils but what about those poor souls like (I presume all) new-born parents who have to manage with just the one hand whilst the other is left holding/comforting/jiggling/swaying the baby? Next time you open a tin first try doing it with just the one hand and you’ll soon discover what I mean.

It’s been the biggest shock to the system you can imagine (or will know about if you’ve been there) but wasn’t unexpected given the amount of time we’ve had to talk and read about it. I’d say prepare for it except the truth is you can’t. Unless of course you get your kicks by cutting your sleep by half (on a good day) and splitting it into random parts of the day while trying to go about everyday tasks. To date I’ve managed to pour orange juice onto my coffee and nearly burn the house down by trying to sterilise something in the microwave without adding any water. Don’t try this at home!

New parents would be better prepared if they had a much better understanding of it all from an early age. In the same way I’ve discussed how I would previously have downplayed what’s involved in running 13 miles I’ve also had the same dismissive macho attitude to parenting drummed into me. “If men did give birth love we’d be back at work that afternoon.” No you bloody wouldn’t is the short answer. If teenage pregnancy really is the problem that the Daily Mail would have us believe then I’d suggest that all kids are taken on a school field trip to a screaming labour ward rather than measuring the speed of a river or visiting a factory to see how coke is bottled like my own.

The last 3 ½ weeks have been a real eye-opener as to how being a housewife/husband really can be the most difficult job to do. I’ve only had a taster so far but already the simplest of tasks get put to one side day after day whilst I grasp any brief window of opportunity to seemingly prioritise alternating between doing the washing up and hoovering. Replying to a text is generally done in instalments that can take hours. (And I’d typed up to this point days ago!)

So you might guess how it’s affected my training. Today was the 4^th time I’d been out in that time because it’s suddenly become such a sporadic opportunity. And frankly when those moments come I’d much rather be taking a nap. Admittedly only now with good cause.

At the same time though I realise I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve got a partner who can share the burden and take the strain for a couple of hours every now and again. God knows how single parents cope – their training schedule is constant 24/7.

Occasionally I drive past women in neighbouring villages who are out running with their pram or pushchair in front of them and at first I assumed they formed part of the same runners’ sect that like to be weighed down with a heavy rucksack or chase a dog on a lead. I can see now it’s out of necessity not insanity. You can even push a custom-built twin carrier around!

But for now I’m not quite in the Harold Bishop world of embarrassing exercise routines so will continue to scoff until the time comes that my sole trick of getting my daughter to sleep by walking up and down stairs turns into strapping her to my chest and taking her running with me.

Another 9 ½ month countdown starts now. For that’s when D Day arrives (not Darren Day…I hope) and, however awake I am, I run the half marathon. There’ll no doubt be similar challenges ahead to those that parenthood brings. A sense of wanting the process to be over as quickly as possible. Many days of discomfort and funny walks as my body gets into shape. Nearly passing out as the finish line approaches (thankfully I avoided it – just).

But ultimately something hugely rewarding and, with good fortune, something I manage to do again one day.

MM