Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink

And in the blink of an eye, another year has zipped by.
Have I discussed my theory of relativity with you? Also known as Paul's Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey theory.
Its like this: Take a one year old baby. Just not too far and do bring it back or its parents might spend a three month crusade of dominating the media and getting free trips around the world and to meet the pope, instead of actually looking for it. But that's not for here.
So to a one year old, a year is everything they have ever known. A month o mere twelfth of their life. But by the time they are five, the same year has reduced to a fifth, and that month to a sixtieth. So by the time you are me, and 36 and a half, a year is just a thirty sixth and that month is just one out of 438 (allowing for the and a half bit).
Everyone seems to be blogging about 2007, but frankly I have forgotten most of it already and if you really want to know, just go back and read all my entries for the past year. I have enjoyed it and that's really all that counts.
But anyhoo, Christmas!
What fun that was! I had a deluge of gifts this year, so shan't bore you with a load of stuff you didn't get and probably wouldn't want. Because you aren't me, so what was brilliant for me may not work for you! I do have to mention my Monster Book of Monsters though. Sent from across yonder pond by young Josh. Its great and I love it. It does attack people when they come round though. Well, I say it attacks .. clearly its me holding it and doing the voice...... and a flight control Tardis from Ade & Matt. Its brilliant! Of course, I got lots of lovely things from Dan too, but nothing beats just having him in my life to be honest.
And Doctor Who. Hm. Getting slated from all angles but I have to say I enjoyed it. Its not as good as I was hoping for, given an extra long ep with Min as the main guest star, but the camp nonsense I expect, nay .. demand .... from a Who xmas spesh. I mean, what right minded person wouldn't chuckle at the sight of the Queen, in dressing gown and slippers, tottering outside Buck House waving at the Titanic whooshing up into the sky, waving and crying out 'thank you Doctor'. Hilarious. It was cruel of them to make us watch Min die though. Twice.
Popped out for a meet up with Kinda on Saturday. My first real attendance. As the Brig would say, jolly nice chaps, all of them. Hoping to see them more in 08.
And yes, just hours now til 07 pops off and 08 drops by for a fleeting twelve months. By the end of which a month will be just a four hundred and forty fourth of my life.
Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink.
Good luck.

I'm Super, Thanks for Asking

Spice Pics

Utter Madness

Well what an exciting day Saturday was.
It began with me having car issues. No, really! I know - me and a car butting heads, its a shocker alright.
With my spangly new voiture, I have committed (as i do with every change of car) to actually look after it properly. I figure with a new car, its gotta be easier than with a p o s. Not that the Protonator was a piece of shit, but she wasn't spangly. The Waspinator (so called for being yellow and black and having a face akin to the Beast Wars character of the same name) is spangly.
So I decide to check oil, water, tyres etc. before driving all the way to that there London. I dig out my owners manual and look up where all the things need to go. It tells me, quite unhelpfully that there is s sticker on the car telling me tyre pressure. And the bonnet release just has a diagram of where to find it, inside 'the front door' of the car. So Its a three door ergo a door on each side and the hatchback. So what exactly constitutes the front door? I have a definite backdoor (ooh daughter) but then two very equally placed side doors. I tried measuring to see if one is millimetres more forward than the other but to no avail. So I am now relying on the wee diagram that shows where the release lever is. No part of my car resembles the small well and curvy thing where said lever is physically located. But lo! a clue! Beneath the dashboard it says. Well, that's marvellous. By my Holmes like powers of deduction, I can now safely use either of my 'front' doors which are connected across the width of the car by the dashboard, to the forward direction. So really none the wiser.
Now, The Waspinator has lots of hidey holes and pockets within drivers reach. Great for storing food, money, phone, glasses case, more food and keys. So I give them all a good rub and fiddle but no lever do I find. Because I am famous, nay infamous for not seeing things right in front of me, I get Dan to look too. Zip. So he goes to get a torch. Still we find zilch. Then, somehow, I am upside down, my head in the foot well, my feet waving precariously around over the headrest, all the blood now in my face, torch ion one hand, the other gripping the steering wheel to hold me in place, rather than fall out of the car and break something on today of all days.
Not a fucking sausage.
Exasperated, I start to pack stuff into the car and just hope I don't need oil, water or windscreen wash. As I pop my CD case into the passenger seat, I spy a small hole tucked up under the dash with a small but perfectly formed lever, just inside where the door hinges meet the dash. Tentatively, I pull... to hear the clunk of the bonnet release.
30 Minutes. Half a fucking hour poking, prodding, getting in and out of the car, hanging upside down and risking migraines and embolisms.
Passenger side.
Why would a passenger ever think, 'oh, I'll just pop the bonnet up and have a squizz under there and see if its pretty'. Astounding.
So late now, we set off, pop down and pick Kat and Helen up (who bought me a fabulous Lord Voldemort tee shirt, which i am wearing today. Its a bit long on me and he is mainly at the bottom of it, so unless I pull it up a bit, it does look like I have a random arm reaching out from my underpants. Wouldn't be the first time I suppose), drop Dan at his mums in Newport and off we go again.
Quick stop on the M4 . at the KFC but .. and get this .. I didn't get a KFC!!! Just had a quick pasty and off! Get me!
Once off the M4 Kat is on navigator duty and we follow through to young David & Al's place. Have a bit of a mare with a diversion that I wasn't convinced was actually diverting us properly, but we got there in teh end.
D & A are moving to Southampton soon (which reminds me, David is stressing about a colourist and stylist and know Rach has one there .... need to get numbers passed around and people introduced!) and I was looking at the pics of new house ..... LOVE IT!
So off we head on the jolly old train to get into town. Stopped at Waterloo to meet Lisa from David's work .... we are LOVING Lisa. And grabbed a Krispy Kreme. Introduced Kat to Krispy Kreme. Fair to say I changed her life with a fondant doughnut. Then off to the jolly old O2 to meet Mark Leete and head in to gig!
I cant remember all the details but its fair to say we had an absolute scream. We had brilliant seats. Now, bear in mind, I booked just a single seat for me, while 200 miles away, David was booking his three independently. So him having the seat in front of me was the most amazing coincidence ever. Young Marky bought everyone a flashy Spice glowstick thingy. There were news crews all over. Lots of drag queens dressed up as Ginger, Sporty, Baby, Dozy, Beaky, Mich and Titch .. or something.
The gig itself was pretty much what you would expect. All the hits. A few dancey bits. There was a lovely moment at the end of Viva Forever, performed on moving individual podiums, gliding through dry ice, that as the last notes faded, Geri sank into the mist, gone forever. Well, for about 2 songs anyhoo. I called my Mum during Mama and bellowed the song down the phone to her. I couldn't hear a bloody thing but have spoken to her since and apparently it made her cry! She thought I was drunk and at a party mind you. Each girl had a solo spot. Geri did Its Raining Men (that's right girlfriend, know your audience), Emma did Maybe (always my fave of her anyway), Mel C I Turn To You (odd choice) and really randomly Mel B performed Are You Gonna Go My Way - while whipping a 'member of the audience pulled out at random' .. yeah right. Victoria chose not to sing (wise) and sent up her image instead by posing for photographers and doing a catwalk thing. They played Supermodel!!! David and I were screaming at each other at this point just for her use of RuPaul.
One thing baffled us .. and everyone else we spoke to ..... every time Victoria had a close up on screens, sang a solo line, farted or whatever, 80% of the crowd went fucking nuts. Which nobody did for any of the others singularly. Um .. yeah, lets cheer the least talented one ... that's a good plan. What the fuck? Even the dykes we spoke to didn't get it. Which speaks volumes.
The grand finale of Wannbe/Spice Up Your Life really had the whole place jumping .. not quite the Big Prince Night Out but it came close in atmos at that point.
Had to make something of a sharp exit as we had to get two trains back to David's and then still drive back to Wales, picking Dan up from his mums and dropping the girls off before I could get to bed....... which was about 4.00am in the end ... but what a great day!
Since then, work has been chaos ..... everyone wants everything done immediately ..... its supposed to bloody slow down now, not get worse! Bah humbug!

A Christmas Tale

I thought I woudl share a story of Christmas past with you ... via a series of letters I had to send to a previous lover.....


Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 26
Dear love:
I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a wonderful thoughtful gift! I couldn't have been more surprised.
With deepest Love and Devotion
Paul
********

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 27
My sweet man:
Today the postman brought your most wonderful gift. Just imagine - two turtle doves! I'm delighted at your very sweet gift. They are just adorable. I will have to get a cage for them or Smeagol is sure to eat them though.
With deepest Love,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 28
Darling:
Oh! Your third gift arrived! You really went too far, I think. I don't deserve such generosity - three French hens. They are just lovely, but I must protest - you've been way too kind.
Love,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 29
Pumpkin:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now, really, they're quite nice, but now I have 10 birds and nowhere to put any more, not to mention the cat....so please, no more birds!! But, thanks.
Affectionately,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 30
Sweetheart:
What a surprise! Another present....and not a bird this time! Wow! Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for each finger. You're just too extravagant, but I love it! Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves, but the rings are wonderful...and so quiet!! All my love,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
December 31
Hey you:
When I opened the door there were actually six geese a-laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge! And it was bird poo that they were laying.. complete with a large count of coloform bacteria. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbours are complaining. The police came by with a formal complaint, and I can't sleep through all the racket. I guess I have my own noise-makers for the new years eve celebration tonight so that shoudl keep the fucktard students next door in their place.
Please stop. NO MORE BIRDS!!
Cordially,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
January 1
You there:
Happy New Year...to some people. It hasn't been so happy for me. What's with you and those dumb birds? Are you hanging out with Bill Oddie or what? Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of practical joke is this? There's bird shit all over the house and they never stop squawking. I could not sleep all night and I'm a nervous wreck. You have gone too far, bird brain. STOP SENDING BIRDS. NO MORE BIRDS OR I WILL FEED THEM TO THE CAT!! GOT IT?
Sincerely,
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
January 2
OK, Sarcasmo:
I think I prefer the birds over this. What am I going to do with eight maids a-milking? It's not enough with all those birds and eight maids a-milking, but they had to bring their cows. Have you ever smelled a yard full of cow shit? Their piles are all over the lawn, and I can't move in my own house. Leave me alone. NO MORE OF YOUR "GIFTS".
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
January 3
Hey, bollock chops:
What are you? Some kind of freak? Now there's nine ladies dancing...right in the smelly you-know-what and tracking it all over my house. The way they've been bickering with the milk maids, I hesitate to even call them ladies. You have never heard such creative uses for the C word. You'll get yours, buddy.
Paul
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
January 4
Right, fuck face:
What's with the ten lords a-leaping? And believe me, a bigger bunch of ‘lords’ I never did see – and I drink in Shirley’s Temple. I have threatened to break their legs so that they can never leap again. All 23 of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death by the leapers, the dancers, and the cows. At least, I don't have to worry about them any more. However, the cows are mooing all night having gotten diarrhoea. My living room is a sewer! The Council have subpoenaed me to give cause why my house shouldn't be condemned.
I'm filing a complaint to the police about you!
One who means it.
*****

Paul Robinson
Russell Rise
Luton
Beds
January 5
Listen, you cock juggling thunder cunt:
Now there's eleven pipers piping. And they never stop piping...except when they're chasing those maids or dancing girls. If I had a decent video camera I could turn my living room into a porn studio. At least I'd make some money off this shit. The cows are getting very upset and are sounding worse than the birds ever did. What am I going to do? There is a petition going around to evict me from the neighbourhood. And this is a student area!
I hope you're satisfied, you rotten, vile swine.
Your sworn enemy,
Paul
*****
Law Offices
Sue, Pillage, and Plunder
1313 George St
Luton
Beds
January 6

Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve drummers drumming which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Mr Paul Robinson. The damage, of course, was total. He was found beating his head against the wall to the beat of the twelve drums. If you should attempt to reach Mr Robinson at the Farringdon Wing for the insane of the Luton & Dunstable Hospital, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
Cordially,
Law Firm of
Sue, Pillage, and Plunder


With thanks to Russ for the original gag.

Flying Visit.....

I need to tell you about my fabulous weekend and show you some very poor pics of the Spice Girls ... but really busy, so in the meantime, pop along here

So Here it is, Merry Christmas..

The legendary GMG Radio Christmas Party was this weekend in Manchester. Things started out so well.
We had a comedy drive up as it was myself, Tree and her bezzie mate Ben in the car, speeding up to Manchester in the worst rain ever. We had a quick stop on the M5 services for a pizza and were plunged into darkness. They lost all power and had to close all of the shops. I am sure that they actually should have legally closed the building, from what I remember as my time working Front of House. Not that I would have budged until I had eaten my food. However, because of this, the shop was no longer open for me to purchase a beverage for remainder of journey, so by the time I got to Manchester I had a throat like the Sahara desert. First garage I saw, I pulled in to grab a quick diet coke with cherry. As I opened the car to climb back in, a dirty great lorry did 50 mph through a very very very large puddle .... moving the puddle from the road to my back and car. It soaked me. It soaked my dash board and car seat. It left so much water that it was running around the footwell and dashboard for the rest of the trip (about 45 mins) despite full heat on full blast. Absolutely one of my pet hates is wearing wet clothes. I had water dripping from my hair, down my back ... and ergo down my arse crack. Quite uncharacteristically, I was laughing a lot. I think it was shock.
So we get to Manchester, find the hotel really easily and then spend ages trying to navigate one way systems to get in the car park.
My room was beautiful. There was a cool iPod dock thing - not that I have an iPod, but I was really impressed anyway. The TV was a flat screen jobbie and the speakers were in the ceiling around the entire suite! There's nothing that says I am going for a big night out like laying in the bath listening to Family Fortunes, I can tell you.

I then popped out to meet young Anthony who runs Sarah-Jane dot tv and Torchwood dot tv. And he is an even cooler bloke in real life than on the web! One of those rare straight boys who is genuinely straight but gets the gay thing .. and can dress himself. And he gave me a lovely Christmas card with a very sweet message .... I was choked!
Anyhoo, back to the party. There had been a huge fuss about the start time for the party moving forward an hour .... we had to be ready at 5.30 to get on the shuttle coach, as the party had to start bang on 6.00pm. So we are all squished into the hotel lounge (like all 800 odd of us) with two people working the bar that had a queue 15 deep, roasting my nuts off in my rather fabulous velour cow print suit with velour zebra print coat and zebra print 5 inch platform shoes. 90 mins later, we finally got in. I have to be fair and say that on paper .. the party was amazing. We had Ray Quinn (gurning like a loon through two songs, and looking like a leprechaun more and more with each note), two actors from Corrie (which I don't watch and had no idea and cared even less who they were), Gabrielle (fabulous! Love her! But they didn't let her sing, she just gave an award out), McFly (yawn), Billy Ocean (neutral feelings here, even though he I did wonder why none of his people had taken the mop off his head when he clearly mistakenly walked into a broom cupboard rather than the stage door. Apparently it was his dreads but they looked a bit odd white). And finally Westlife (Id rather eat glass). So when they did finally start bringing the food around 9.30, I was less than impressed as it had been hyped out of reach by teasing about these amazing guests. They were amazing, it just so happened I didn't like any of them. So before we even got to pudding, I left and went back to my room to change. I don't think it had helped that I was on a table so far out and behind a pillar, it genuinely felt like we weren't part of the party. And the nearest other Wales table was three tables in, the other side of said pillar.
There was an amazing comedy moment with the security on the way in. One of them had a full on The Bodyguard earpiece sleeve mic combo, to which I asked her if she was going to 'do a Madonna' later to a very blank look from all of them. Which is when I realised that they all had them so I blurted out 'Sorry, clearly you're doing Steps' to even more blank looks.
Another one was in my haste to leave the room rather than suffer .. I mean listen to Westlife killing 'Home', I burst through the main exit, to find I was out by a door and had just thrown the kitchen doors open and knocked out several chefs, who had been peering through the gap, at Westlife. I apologised, thanked them for the lovely meal that was imminent and then got the correct door. I then had one of the sales reps from our Scotland station be very rude to me. So I called him a cunt, told him never to talk to me again and he stropped off.
Oh, and to top it all off, we won station of the year, which means we have to bloody well host next year and I was so sure we wouldn't, I promised to wear Welsh national costume if it ever happened.
After getting back to the hotel, Ben and I left Tree to go to bed as she was mullered on Tequila, and we went up Canal Street. Sadly, it wasn't as great as we hoped, so we walked it twice and went home.
So there I was, at 11.30, tucked up in bed on the phone to Dan who had had a great night as he had had one of his casuals over - literally!
Oh well.

At least I am mostly sorted for Christmas now.

For Narnia!

Go here now and see the trailer for Prince Caspian in HD.
Took my breath away.

Here's Where the Story Ends

You probably know this song by a few artists. Whenever I hear it, I instantly think of a quite specific series of events in my life.

Step in my Tardis and I'll take you back to December 1998......

I was living in Letchworth with Jamie, but it had been a terrible year. His health had been an issue, his family had been an issue, we had lost our home once, and nearly a second time too due to financial issues. We weren't really getting on as we used to .. and then I met someone else.

Martin wasn't my type at all. Thin, lean, no body hair, very pale. Not the usual Bear of a man that gets my juices flowing as twere. But we hooked up for a bunk up, then started meeting regularly. Frankly, he was a fantastic shag. His willy was quite long and curved up and over, rather than as if it would eventually point back at him. Believe me .... that can make a big difference! This carried on for a while and before long, I started to have more feelings than just casual sex. But I had a bf, he was engaged to a girl ... couldn't go anywhere really. Until he then sat me down one day and asked if once Christmas was over, Id move in with him. He regularly saw me at home with Jamie and felt he could give me a better life. That was the moment I let go and fell hook, line and sinker for him. Romantic notions of a happier life are always a good puller for anyone really.

So I really began to think about it. The logistics, the reality .... with him working in London and me in Welwyn Garden City, we could move somewhere a tad further south to reduce travelling, we both drove but would we need a car each? What would the bedroom look like? Would he come out to his family, after breaking off the engagement to be with me? What would my friends think? Will Mother like him? Or better yet, would I finally have a fella that Dad approved?

One cold January afternoon, I decided to give him my answer. We were sat in his car, and he gave me a very blank look. And then tried to deny the many times he had spoken to me about whisking me away, telling me how if I left Jamie, he'd leave Kim. And finally that actually he had shagged some 18 year old last week and was in love with him.

Have you ever felt like the whole world melted away, every colour drained as somebody ripped your heart from your chest and ground it in a mincer?

There is kind of an aftermath to this tale that involves myself and a close friend from back then stalking him, but for legal and incriminating reasons, Id best not tell them in public. Needless to say, Cybill and Mary-Ann were a divine inspiration. As was the copious amounts of vodka and marijuana we both used to get through back then.

So that song was on the radio .. and it just reminded me of those times. The song in itself is a little souvenir, of a terrible year that makes me wonder why.

In other news. Saw The Producers on Monday night down at Wales Millennium Centre. Starring Peter Kay and Reece Shearsmith. We were sat in the centre of the front row - and I never want to sit anywhere else for a show ever again. Speaking as a trained musical theatre performer, I can safely say its genuinely like being on the stage! The show is hilarious. A witty, escapade of how a failure of a Broadway producer hooks up with his accountant after realising that with the correct insurance, they can more money from a failure than a hit - but how to stage a failure? So with a offensive text in Hitlers favour and more gayness than .. well I could muster, off they go. But what if they create a success?

The show is pretty much a constant, guffaw-a-thon from open to close. A few particular highlights would be:

Carmen Ghia, Roger DeBris's 'assistant' exiting. You have never laughed so hard at just an extended arm, I promise you.

Betrayed. A recap of the entire evening so far, including the intermission. 'Where is the spoon? Oh its in the lid!' Genius

Anytime Peter Kay was onstage. Show stealer and ad libber, but then that's what he gets paid for.

And the very cute Stephen Weller. Who comes on as a village people type leather clone at one point, hairy torso exposed.

The tour ends Saturday and Peter & Reece were only there for a few nights, so if you want to go and see it ... you cant basically.

This is the photo I took during the curtain call ... only on my phone, so this is an accurate representation of our proximity!

Spice tickets have arrived for next week. Its the work Christmas bash in Manchester this weekend and I have a ticket for Kylie in July. Life is good.

Oh and according to the diary section on this webiste, I am choreographing John Barrowman in panto this year.