The High Life?

"Oh, Steve. What a charmed life you must lead as a minor local radio celebrity. You must get treated so well."

And to whomever said that I retort, "B******s!"

We got an email at work telling us that we presenters can't use the Mercury FM parking spaces.

We're on Manor Royal in Crawley, and it's so busy round here for parking it's crazy. Often you have to fight for a space out on the road, and we have four reserved parking spaces right outside the station, but oooooooooh no! Not for us.

The people in sales say they have to have them because it's important that they can find a place to park when they get back form their meetings.

Here's a thought. It's also probably quite important that the flippin' presenter who's gonna be doing the show can actually get to park. Without that happening it'll be very very quiet on the station, and without the presenter there's no one to play out the ads, so what would the sales people sell then?

Perks my a**e. If it weren't for the groupies and free drugs I think I'd quit.

Robert Wells In Concert

Last night I went to see a musical performer at Ronnie Scott's in London.

A young chap by the name of Robert Wells, he's from Sweden and does a great set of jazz and boogie with a new take on some classically pieces.

It was a good night. I normally hide the fact that when I did music A-level I did jazz performances and blues style compositions. All very odd from a working-class northern white boy. So it was right up my street.

I don't get to play as much as I used to but last night made me want to take up a new instrument. The bass guitar.

When the bass guitarist was doing the 'slap bass' thing, I was thinking, "Surely it doesn't matter how ugly you are, you do that on stage and you'll get laid."

I now have to add it to my list of sexy musical instruments, ones that if you play them the ladies will love you. So far the list is:

Saxophone (obviously)
Slap bass (so funky)
Harmonica (proves a certain skill level with you lips and tongue)

Venus

Here's a plus side to being me. If I work hard in the week, write more content for the shows than I need, do some pre-recording, I can take Friday morning off. I don't have to be on air till 4pm, so it's Stevie-fun-time!

This Friday I went to the cinema (with my free pass, plus-side to being me part 2) and I saw the film Venus.

It's the best film I've seen in ages. Normally the list of my favourite films of the year is populated with comedies, but this makes it for being the most moving things I've seen, and I'm not often moved. When ET died I just thought, "They get their spare room back."

But, remember I was watching this film, about an old bloke, at 11am on a Friday morning. Basically I was the youngest person in there, it was like an OAP special outing. Don't get me wrong, that's great, nice for them to get out, but...

...less than 15 minutes in the snoring started.

Oh well, more fool them, because if you stay awake through the whole thing you hear 4 really bad swears words and see some boobs. And I hope that's something I'd still stay awake for when I get to that age.

It's The Ripped Trousers Grommet

I was in a bad mood on Friday, bad stuff at work, but Saturday night I went to Folkestone and did a stand-up comedy gig. Stand-up is guaranteed to make up for any bad stuff that's happened in that week of radio, and it did.

Oh what a happy little soul I was till I realised, last night, on stage in front of 200 people, I had a rip in my trousers.

I got them off the hanger before the gig, got my outfit together and just went for it. But the rip in between the right front pocket and the gusset. Basically, if my boxer rode up a bit the rip would be in the right play to show off "Mr Righty". (Yes, I name my two veg)

I wondered why I felt so free and easy on stage last night. I was walking around up there, talking b*****ks while showing one off too.

Next time I do that, I'll charge them double.

30 Update

So how is life as a 30-year-old? Well, it's fraying at the seams.

I don't think I've done this since I was a kid, but tonight I spilt gravy down my t-shirt. So I'm sat here feeling very un-showbiz.

I didn't think I'd be a dribbler till I hit my 80s, but no, I'm very advanced for my age.

And that's not the only reason I feel like I'm getting old. It wasn't just the spilling of the foodstuff down my t-shirt, it was the fact that my first thought was, "Well, that's wasted food."

D'oh!

Visit Steve Allen's Home

I just got back from a visit to the North. I make a pilgrimage to Sutton-in-Ashfield in Nottinghamshire every year around this time because my sister and I share the same birthday even though she was 11 years older. (People always say, 'Wow, what are the odds of that? Well, 1 in 365, so not that stunning.)

I think I got the worst end of it. She had 10 birthdays on her own before she had to start sharing, but I didn't. And she's a woman so will probably live 10 years longer than me, so we should die around the same time. Basically, I'll never know the joy of my solo birthday. Whenever I get gifts in life that little bit of giving always ruins it.

Still, somehow, through it all, I'll probably cope.

Happy Birthday Me

Well, today is the day I turn 30. I thought it would hit me harder, but I'm fine so far. I got up, went back to bed, cried all day. Yep, I'm coping.

If anything finally being 30 is good, because now I'm growing into my own hair-loss.

I was thinking about what I would want on my birthday. And my wish is that there is no terrorism today. Not because I'm being nice. Imagine how rubbish it would be if a big bomb thing went off and your birthday became one of 'those dates' people use.

MAN: Oh, when's your birthday?
ME: It's 10-01.
MAN: Ooooh, 10-01, that was such a shame. Terrible what happened.

I'd be like, "Erm, we were talking about me. Focus, where's my present?"

MindRant - New Year

A while ago I posted something on my other blog that was quite well received (and by that I mean I got a few nice emails about it). It was after a training day where they go us to sit down and just start writing on any subject and fill the page with whatever flowed into our minds (it's a well used technique in commercial radio and is probably why so many DJs talk such random crap). I posted it here and as it did well I've decided to start doing it again under the little name of 'mindrants'.

So, sorry for any spelling errors and the untidy handwriting, but open the jpeg of the sheet I wrote and have a little read at the workings of my mind.



Steve

Oooh, I'm Famous

One of the oddest things happened to me today. I got recognised by a professional look-a-like. I just love the irony of that.

It was a guy who lives round here who gains work because he looks like David Brent. I did a corporate gig with him a while back and that's how he knew me (local radio presenters tend not to be recognised that much). I just love that he did to me what he earns money from people doing to him. If only prostitutes would do the same.

Unless he didn't think I was Steve Allen, but some Steve Allen look-a-like and he was just impressed at how spot on I got it.