The Hack And The Knack

A week to go until my summer hols and with typical good timing my nose is streaming and I’ve developed a hacking cough. I sound like General Grievous only with a slightly annoying Midlands twang. Now there’s a movie – “me an’ the lads ‘ave all been trayned actuall-aye in the ways of the Jed-aye...”

It ain’t nice and it ain’t pretty.

And it’s put me in a bad mood.

See, I should be at home putting my feet up, being waited on and reading a good book. But because I’m on holiday next week I kind of feel honour bound to drag my bones into work this week. Otherwise it just looks like I’m taking the pee and caning an extra week’s holiday out of my employers. Cos that’s what they’ll think, oh believe me, they will.

So I’m at work with my hacking cough and my streaming nose and am exhibiting a major case of the grumps and feel like I want to kill someone. Nothing bad has happened, you understand – nothing huge – but I’m being plagued by lots of petty gripes. A veritable hailstorm of trivial complaints.

Now let me tell you, a thousand wasps are far more life threatening than one solitary rhino. Or something like that.

The main cause of consternation in my peers is this: a lock has broken on a door. Not just any old door but the door to the main Art Store. And if that door won’t close properly it means we can’t alarm the building at close of business... so technically we’ve got a huge effing hole punched into our security measures and (more worryingly ) our insurance policies. So yes it’s a bit of a problem. But the door will close if you have the knack. The knack shouldn’t be necessary I admit – the door should just close and the lock engage all on its own – but that’s not how it is right now. You need to wiggle the handle a bit, tease the lock with the key. Caress the mechanism. Show a bit of love. Then the door will close and lock as good as gold.

I’ve told people this. You need to employ the knack until the locksmith arrives. There’s nothing to be done until then. Either use the knack or don’t use the knack. But don’t bother me with it. I need peace and quiet and space enough to cough up my lungs in a manner that befits my station in life.

i.e. All over my kennel.

Bloody dogsbody, me. Bah.

The X Fix

Very disappointing news from my friend, “Wilson”, who went along to the NEC in Birmingham to audition for The X Factor on Monday.

From what he’s reports he and the vast number of applicants were barely given a decent bite at the showbiz cherry.

After waiting nearly three hours for his slot Wilson was shoved into a tiny room no bigger than a portaloo where a very bored researcher sat on a chair composing a text message on his mobile phone. The researcher didn’t even look up or acknowledge Wilson’s presence. Luckily Wilson was prepared for this rudeness after hearing the accounts of his fellow X Factor hopefuls who’d auditioned before him... and it seems this ignorance and disrespect was generously ladled out to all applicants no matter what their standard. I suppose we ought to be thankful for this half hearted attempt at equality.

Wilson refused to sing until the guy looked up and made eye contact. Apparently the guy looked shocked that Wilson could actually sing properly but as soon as the piece was over he promptly waved his hand in dismissal and said, “Sorry, not this time.”

End of audition.

From what Wilson has learned this was par for the course for all of the applicants. All rather callous and offensive I’m sure you’ll agree.

Now before people start casting aspersions of “hard cheese” Wilson has made it clear to me that there were some amazing singers among the applicants – really terrific – but they were all treated in the same bored, offhand manner. The general consensus among applicants on the day was that a very definite pre-selection process was taking place in line with some sort of hidden agenda. Selection was taking place according to a rigid quota system based on who knows what kind of demographic. Your singing voice was not the deciding factor.

Anyway, Wilson is heartily cheesed off with the whole affair and I can certainly understand his chagrin. All that effort for nothing.

But, I personally think that just having the guts to go for the audition in the first place is quite an achievement and something to be proud of. I certainly couldn’t have done it. And it’s certainly a valuable experience too – albeit a rather crappy one.

Last time I spoke to Wilson he’d received offers from local bands to join them for jamming sessions and various people wanted CDs of his stuff. All promising opportunities, I’m sure you’ll agree, which I hope he’ll seize with both hands.

Who needs Simon Cowell and the approval of his ilk anyway?

X Factor? X Factoff!

X Factoid

A good friend of mine, who shall henceforth be known only as Mr D to protect his oddly-valued anonymity, is auditioning for The X Factor on Monday 30th April. Brave man.

The auditions take place at the NEC in Birmingham and Mr D is already as nervous as all hell. Not that hell ever struck me as being nervous in itself but never mind... however he has a fine voice and like me, has reached that juncture in life where it’s a case of: "If I don’t do it now I never will". As an old school friend of mine once told me: it’s better to regret something you have done rather than something you haven’t.

I tried telling that to the police after ram-raiding a local Ann Summers outlet a few years back but inexplicably it cut me very little slack...

Joking aside, I hope you’ll all join with me in wishing him well as he braves the censure of the likes of Dermot O’Leary and Patrick Kielty et al. Go get ‘em with your hot, syrupy vocals my good man!

For those of you that are interested Mr D’s vocal talents can be sampled at singsnap.com under the beguiling nom de plume of "Wilson".

Good luck for Monday matey!