Scott Bryan2013-05-19T01:51:37-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=scott-bryanCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Scott BryanGood old fashioned elbow grease.The Five Most Annoying Things About Being Gaytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.28194672013-03-07T19:00:00-05:002013-05-07T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/1. There's an assumption that you sleep with others all the time - Yeah, that's right. We all sleep with each other, 3,000 times a day. There's no need for women. No talking about feelings (with extra witty banter about your boobs), we can just cut straight to it and start unbuckling each other's trousers. The only issue that we have to worry about is accidentally wearing each other's clothes roughly 20 minutes later. We're all sluts.
The problem is, in the 10 years of being out I haven't seen that much evidence of that at all. Yeah there are guys who sleep with absolutely everybody, but so are there many straight guys who sleep with absolutely everybody. The vast amount of gay guys I know are exactly the same as their straight counterparts - we don't know how to approach people / we don't go home with people all the time/the only way to chat someone up is by downing three bottles of wine in a nightclub and stumbling over to them whilst trying to think up an awful yet interesting 'opening line'/oh god will they give me their phone number or not/that awful 'I don't know what I'm doing' feeling the whole bloody time, and so on.
In fact, I'd go as far as much to say that there's not too much difference between straight and gay guys at all. The fact is, a great deal of us (in the long term) are looking for relationships, are wanting love, are wanting to happy, just like a great deal of straight blokes. Yeah the culture perceives that getting with guys is easier than straight guys, but it doesn't mean that we get the guys we like, or want to pull in the first place.
Now let me take your belt off.
2. You have to constantly come out to others for the rest of your life - Coming out for the first time can be the hardest thing that a gay/bi/lesbian person could do. You agonise about the relationships with your family, your best mates, your colleagues and all sorts. Then it happens. You come out. You get an adrenalin rush as if you've just hurtled down Alton Towers' Oblivion just after eating eight packets of Skittles. You feel alive. You feel like you've just pressed a giant 'restart' button in your head. You feel like no other problem exists, that no other problem can stop you...
Then you come out... about 37,000,000 more times.
Whenever I get a new mate, new housemate, or new colleague, thinking about when tell them that I'm gay is something that is always in my mind. I know that I don't need to tell people about my sexuality, it's my private life after all, but essentially in the long term, I know that I have to... otherwise conversations become a bit of a mindfuck when I have to avoid anything about relationships, gay marriage, nights out, whether you're single and "whether you think this person is fit."
Since coming out the first time I've found that there's two perfectly acceptable ways to do it to anyone who isn't your close friends and family. You either...
1. Strategically place a subtle reference within any conversation, flicking around the word "girlfriend" with "boyfriend", "she's fit" with "he's fit" (you then look at them with a subtle stare of 'yeah that's right, but let's not chat about it' before moving on to the next conversation).
OR...
2. You do a "I'm Gay" announcement followed by an Oprah interview with the other person where you talk about your feelings.
Luckily as being gay is becoming less of a WTF thing these days, I hope that I will get to the day and age where I wouldn't need to 'think' about the process of telling other people about my sexuality anymore. Until then though, I have to.
So I apologise if, after you meet me for the first time, I decide to break the ice by shouting "DOESN'T TOM DALEY'S SIX PACK LOOK UNREAL?" or something.
3. When did you first realise that you were gay? - The most annoying question in the entire Universe. Never ask a gay guy this. It's so freaking weird. It's like asking to a straight bloke, "when was the first time you noticed, in the glistening sun, someone's low cut top? When did you first imagine touching another girl's boob?"
Let me just answer the question here for you. We fancy blokes. It isn't that complicated. Some of us don't realise we do until later, but we just fancy blokes. In the same way that you fancy someone's arse, face, thighs or personality right now. In the same way that you first thought "I want to have sex with [insert name and gender here]" when you were a teenager. That's it.
Don't ask us about it. Many of us don't like having to do a monologue about it in front of you and all of your friends anyway. And the stories are usually quite dull. We're not soap characters. There aren't any EXPLOSIONS or anything. We just realised one day. We worked it out. We told everyone. That's it.
4. People assume that you take care of yourself - There was a time when everyone naturally assumed that gay people were either shouting "I'm free" in department stores or having fun up on Hampstead Heath. Then they realised we were not. Fine if you are, but many of us were not just those type of characters.
So what do many people assume that gay people are today? Fashionable, well presented, tanned, bitchy antique collectors who all undergo teeth whitening, who all have Britney Spears three songs away in their iPod, might be orange, who sneer at anything that's low-cultured and most importantly, look after themselves and their body.
May I add here... if you are into that (bar maybe the antique collectors) totally fine. TOTALLY FINE. But why do people assume that many of us, or all of us, are like that? I for one, do not look after myself. I can't see my bedroom floor as it's covered in clothes. I don't shave that well, sometimes I end up cutting myself I feel as if Sweeney Todd has visited in my sleep. I've never had an interest in shopping - whenever I've been dragged to any clothes store in the past, I usually find the 'shoe section' just so I can sit there and wait until everyone else has finished (it's been my ritual to stare and evaluate the condition of store's ceiling tiles - I literally get that bored).
The 'supposed' assumed lifestyle of being gay is all, I admit, just a bit alienating to me. It always has been. I've felt in the past like I've been pushed into a group or associated with particular labels for no particular reason. Yet again may I clarify, I have no problem with people who like this in any way, but why do all gay people continue to be represented in this way, in the media and in culture? Why can't 'liking blokes instead of girls' be the end all of being gay, without being pushed or associated with any of the 'supposed' lifestyle? Does society label gay people or do gay people continue to label themselves? I literally don't know.
5. People trying to matchmake the gay people up who they know - ARE YOU NUTS? WE'RE NOT A JIGSAW PUZZLE.
Fine if you've been contemplating it for an age and you think that we're a perfect couple for each other, but if you are just thinking right now about throwing two gay guys thinking that they should be together without any sense or thought... seriously, get a grip. It's a total, criminal offence.
SHUT. IT. DOWN.
I think I've vented enough here. Just so you know everyone, I'm going to have a lie down.]]>Why I Am Still Single...tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.26745182013-02-12T23:50:08-05:002013-04-14T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/ why I think I am still single.
Two years later, I am still single.
But it isn't because of the reasons in that article (reasons such as only purchasing a single pillow for my double bed because it would save myself a tenner). It is now a whole lot worse.
I am still single because...
I have the last two hours of Ceefax ever broadcasted recorded on my TV. When my Mum found out she looked me in the eye and said "Scott that's the saddest thing anyone has ever done EVER."
I haven't really ever understood the concept of Valentines Day. When I was 14 I had a big crush on a bloke my age, and basically I made it so blatant that I fancied him for so long he practically went into hiding. I was worried and anxious about hurting his feelings, so I wrote him a letter more or less saying "Look, just to let you know that I don't fancy you in any way, let's just be mates" to give to him the next day. It was essentially 350 words of me saying exactly the opposite of what I was feeling.
Now that doesn't sound so bad does it? Wrong. Without realising, I gave my note to give to him on the evening of February 13th 2003.
He never read the note.
Everyone thinks that I never wash. It's not because I don't wash or anything, it is purely because until very recently I always used to wear very similar clothes. So, for example, I used to wear a lot of purple hoodies with exactly the same design on it for days on end.
Once I wore four different purple hoodies on the trot. Unfortunately everyone thought that it was the same hoody the whole time. So, after 20 continuous days of looking as if I hadn't washed or taken my clothes off... I. Was. Looking. Fit. As. Fuck.
Every single person who I have ever fancied knows that I fancy them. Got a hunch that I might like you? I DO. Think that when you have your back to me I'll invade your personal space and start grinding against your body? I MOST LIKELY WILL.
I have no concept of personal space. I didn't realise for years that I touch nearly every single nice looking bloke's arms, shoulders, hands, face and thighs without realising. I thought it was completely appropriate to place my crotch three feet in front of their crotch whilst giving them a hug. I do it to all my mates, regardless of whether I fancy them or not, but apparently I do it to people that I fancy by accident approximately ten times more.
I've done it for so long now many friends have assumed that I am deeply in love with my straight best mate Tim, because I invade his personal space all the time. There have been interventions about this issue by him, our friends, my friends, his friends, my parents and I think Tim has had an intervention by his parents as well. The fact is though, I don't fancy him. Eventually, everyone gets used to me touching him up. I even think his girlfriend has gotten use to me touching him up too.
I'm not a pervert, I'm just very touchy feely. I like to think of myself as a kind of British youthful Joe Biden. I also like to think that I can get away with this because of some long lost charismatic Italian heritage in my family. Problem is, I've checked. There isn't any long lost charismatic Italian heritage in my family. Our family tree is 40% Aberdeenshire, 30% Lake District, 20% Cornish Tin Miners, 10% Oxfordshire, 190% not perverts. Thanks Ancestry.
I have never deleted a single song from my iPod. This doesn't sound much like a barrier to love, but trust me on this, it is. Sometimes when I'm a little bit drunk at a mates house I decide to elect myself as the 'House DJ' and attach my iPod to the speakers. I try to put the coolest trendiest, sexiest, skinny jeaniest tracks on first, I try to get the vibe right of the room and choose the right music to suit the mood in the playlist... but then I forget and leave my iPod on shuffle. I wonder out of the room, chat to some mates and down some abandoned open chardonnay, which tastes quite a lot better than the half price kerplonk that I brought, discreetly.
About ten minutes later I come back into the living room / dance floor room and everyone else has abandoned the room as my iPod is blasting out every single album track of Dido's 'Life For Rent' or David Gray's 'White Ladder'.
I say 'love you' to every single person at least 25 times a day. I have now said this word so many times now that to me, the words 'love you' has been devoid of all meaning. I say it all the time to my colleagues, I said it on the phone during a phone interview several months ago and I think I just said it to the cashier at my local Natwest branch ten minutes ago.
I now fear having any date. For you see I'll meet them, wear the same clothes as they saw on my Guardian Soulmates profile before whispering the words "I love you" into their ear whilst accidentally feeling up their inner thigh.
I hate being single.]]>Why Having Parents Who Are Air Traffic Controllers is the Best Thing Evertag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.25707692013-01-29T19:00:00-05:002013-03-31T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
They were Air Traffic Controllers.
AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLERS ARE NOT THE PEOPLE ON THE RUNWAY AT AIRPORTS HOLDING SMALL RED TENNIS RACKETS, TO SHOW THE PLANES WHERE THE TERMINAL GATE IS.
My Dad's job for a great deal of his career was communicating with pilots flying from London Heathrow to New York over the Atlantic, telling them where to go. My Mum's job was dealing with flight delays and planning out flight routes across UK airspace, particularly for big events like the Olympics when the entire world's population had to fly from airports all over the world into a single airport within something like 14 hours. They met and fell in love at work. They didn't work in the control tower. They didn't even work at the airport. They worked at a huge control centre in Swanwick, near Poole in Dorset, where all UK National Air Traffic control is based.
Now I say I've used their jobs in the past tense. Don't worry, they haven't been fired. Nor have they died as a result of a terrible Air Traffic Control based tragedy. Imagine that. No wait, I can't. How does that even work? I mean, they were nowhere near planes and they worked totally different shifts.
No I am using the past tense as they have both just retired. They've had more than 60 years of experience between them, but that's it. No more. No more day shifts. No more night shifts. No more in-depth conversations with me about the ins-and-outs of navigation and why a super Boris Island won't work because all the geese in the Thames Estuary would be blended into a jet engine.
I shall miss it.
In fact, I will miss more than just their conversations about work. There were many great things about having parents doing such a niche, crazy, technically demanding and mentally ridiculous job:
THEY HAD TELEPATHY
We were able to go down the M4, I could point any plane in the sky and my Mum or Dad would be able to say "Oh that's the BA3596 heading to Copenhagen" without batting an eyelid.
THEY PROBABLY NAVIGATED YOU
My Dad's job involved contacting pilots whilst they were flying the plane, telling them where they are and where they would need to go next. So essentially they would start with a 'call sign' directed at the aircraft so they know to respond, say "hello" and then would more or less say "up, down, left, right" to the plane and so on.
Once my Dad also was on shift whilst I was flying back from New York on a school trip, which meant that for a short period of time, he was directing the aircraft that I was currently flying over the Atlantic in. When he told me later that he had done so I was amazed, but he didn't seem to think that it was much of a big deal.
He also directed Concorde quite a few times whilst it was in service. Does he ever talk about navigating Concorde loudly in the household or have a big picture in the hallway with the words "I NAVIGATED YOU" tattooed on the photograph? Nah. It wasn't that much of a thing apparently. I actually think he's talked more about making spaghetti bolognaise (he does do a good spaghetti bolognaise) than communicating and helping to navigate the fastest passenger plane that has ever existed.
In fact, to this day I'm not sure whether him directing aircraft was the coolest thing in the entire world, or the scariest. I mean, don't get me wrong he was very well trained and I am not doubting his ability, but he does always need assistance with setting up a Tom Tom before a long car journey.
THEY WERE GREAT AT PAYING UTILITY BILLS
Whilst dealing with any utilities or credit card company on the phone, my parents were taught the superpower ability to throw across any personal details at lightning speed.
"What's that, you want me to spell out my name?" I would overhear them say whilst sitting in the kitchen. "It's Golf Lima Echo November November, Bravo Romeo Yankee Alpha November."
They didn't even notice that they were doing it.
(I would later bulk up the confidence and try to do the same later, but would only be able to muster "Scarlet Charlie... er.... Octagon... Tesco Tesco. Bacon Ryan... Yacht.... erm.... Arnold.... Netherlands? ")
THEY RUINED YOUR HOLIDAYS
I've talked a lot about my Dad here, but don't let this overshadow my Mum. Mum was working during the 2010 Eyjafjallajökull volcanic eruption (no I didn't know how to spell that I just copied and pasted it from Wikipedia). As ash cloud particles were floating in the air potentially clogging up aircraft engines, it was her department's decision for all UK flights to be immediately grounded at the nearest airport for several consecutive days. You might remember what happened next: travel chaos ensued, millions were left stranded on holiday or in unfamiliar countries, insurance companies were left substantially out of pocket...
So, that's right Ladies and Gentlemen. The Bryan Family for a short period had helped cause the entire airline industry to fall on to its knees.
To be honest, I bet you aren't that surprised.
What didn't help my Mum during this very difficult time at work was my general ignorance to it all. "Why would this ash cloud stuff be that much of a concern?" I asked her, whilst eating my cereal first thing in the morning whilst she had her 'I'm so tired I might just sleep whilst standing up' coming-back-from-nightshift face.
"Because, Scott, we wouldn't like planes falling out the sky now would we?"
I was working in retail at the time. Seeing what she was dealing with at work I decided not to talk about my daily pains of working in a local shop to my parents for a while.
THEY DIDN'T UNDERSTAND FRANCHISES
My parents also once hired out Final Destination from the local Blockbusters, thinking that it was a comedy film.
No, really.
So you can imagine, I was watching the film with my parents at the tender age of 14, terrified that in the film's first few scenes, a plane with all of the main characters in is starting to disintegrate before blowing up in the sky.
How did my parents try to reassure me?
"Don't worry Scott. The plane wouldn't blow up technically in that way. The roof would rip off about ten, maybe fifteen seconds later the engines blowing up would only separate the plane in thirds not half..."
Great. Thanks.
THEY WORE THE HEADPHONES
And finally... Why was my Mum and Dad's job so absolutely awesome?
They wore massive headphones with the ear bits the size of dinner plates at work, thirty years before East Londoners realised that wearing these types of headphones were really quite trendy.]]>Why Working the Nightshifts is AMAZINGtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.22901002012-12-13T01:50:04-05:002013-02-11T05:12:01-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
But my shifts aren't during the early night, which now begins at approximately 2.10pm. Bloody winter.
It isn't the early evening shift. If it was, I would spend my mornings watching the Barefoot Contessa on the Food Channel (with her saying the words 'moist juices' and 'so delicious' on loop) before heading into work feeling like the bee's knees.
And I'm not working the late evening shift either, the shift which essentially means that your dinner is a kebab WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.
I work night night. Late late night. Crazy everyone in the entire world is passed out in their bed, even the people who are as hard as nails and go to Ministry of Sound thinking that they are A BOSS, time of night. The time of night when those police documentaries full of people falling out of nightclubs and hitting each other with bottles of WKD are filmed. You know, the ones that are on late night ITV1 and nobody watches.
When I started the night shift a few weeks ago I was slightly concerned of how working that shift would affect me and my daily and personal life. But then I thought about it... I am single and have been since my girlfriend at the age of 14, my overdraft hasn't gone down a penny since my first two weeks at University... and until relatively recently I was living with my parents in Dorset spending most of my time openly criticising the lack of investigative journalism in my local paper with its headlines such as 'Has George the pigeon been found in Surrey?'... Yeah, you know what? My personal life can manage this quite well.
In fact, four weeks in... and apart from a period when your brain goes into automatic shut down at 4am and your soul starts to die for two hours, I actually don't mind the night shifts at all. In fact, there's quite a lot about working the during the night which I can daresay can be considered enjoyable.
In fact, if I become king, nightshifts would become law. During the day we can sloth around the house like cats, and in some cases with cats. It would be amazing.
Reasons why working the nightshift is amazing
It is like some sort of game - The sun is up for approximately sixteen minutes a day, you try to avoid looking like a teenager who hasn't left his bedroom in about fourteen years, so you have to tactically fall asleep to cling on to as much sunshine as possible.
It works like this. My shift starts from 11pm and finish at 7am. So I get home at 7.45am, throw my keys at the door, jump head first into bed like a torpedo, pass out, wake up at 2, throw myself into the shower, get changed, see that it is starting to get a little bit 'dusky' outside, panic like I have never panicked before, throw any piece of clothing on imaginable and run outside run out the house to bask in the innocence and the beauty of light.
Then it gets cold, so I head back in. Then it gets dark.
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TV Shows - I have a TV connected to my computer which I can look at whilst I work late at night. TV programmes past 2am are amazing. On every channel. WWE Wrestling. Documentaries about carp fishing. Even the infomercial ones that show people being amazed and overwhelmed by vacuum cleaners that can bend backwards and clean underneath your sofas. In fact, speaking about infomercials... some of them look so terribly dated it is if the technician had just pressed play in 1994 and forgot about it. I swore that one of them the other day went like this: "Get our greatest rock albums OF ALL TIME, 6 CDs for only £19.99 including postage and packaging. We'll bring you some hard rock classics, such as from the unforgettable, inspirational and untouchable Phil Spector."
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You feel as if you are a rebel - There is no greater thrill, NO GREATER THRILL, than the feeling of heading back to bed at 7 in the morning knowing that it is what you are supposed to do. Plus you can't help feeling smug as the trains heading into the City are packed like the greatest packed tin of sardines ever whilst you're gliding in 'Premium Economy' with extra legroom underground trains, so spacious in fact you can swing a Metro more than two feet away from your body without it being seen as 'a threat'.
You also share a sense of companionship with a lot of people on the train. Most likely they are nightshift workers too, working in cleaning, or construction or finance or whatever. Leaning all of the place, passed out in the corner, bloodshot eyes... in fact they might just be hungover. I can't tell.
Of course, nightshifts aren't always unicorns and amazingness. There are downsides...
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Reasons why working the nightshift is not so amazing
Radio 4 - As well as dabbling with TV overnight I listen to the radio, but of course not Radio 4 as nobody has switched it on yet. Radio 4 starts warming up again at 5.20 in the morning, but not with a loud and proud tune or feature to get you up and raring to go, with the sun ready to burst through the near horizon. Nope. It debuts each day with the Shipping Forecast.
Don't worry. I'm not digging our national institution here. The Shipping Forecast, is of course, OUR GOD. Its sole purpose these days is not to direct ships around our rugged coastlines (dw, they've got GPS) but to actually make you reminisce about your youth and having dinner with your parents whilst you peel potatoes in front of the kitchen sink. It hasn't changed in a millennia. It doesn't make any sense, but you want to keep it that way.
But at 5.20am? God sake, give over. It's too early for that. And you know what, it isn't like the normal three minute report either slotted before the BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG's in the evening. It doesn't last several minutes... IT LASTS TEN MINUTES. It is effectively, a man or a woman *who you can hear yawning between Forties and Viking* reading out to you the longest excel document in the known Universe to you.
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BBC Breakfast - After the amazingness of people punching each other in face in WWE Wrestling and people having their lives transformed with the knowledge that they can now clean a sandwich toaster in their dishwasher on QVC, BBC Breakfast rolls on.
The weirdest thing thing about BBC Breakfast, as well as all the orange, is the fact that everyone on the show seems to have the worst memory in the world. Everything is repeated every three and a half minutes. That's fine of course, viewers dip in and out, but if you watch it all in one go it feels as if they've all got amnesia but somehow never seem to repeat their questions in exactly the same way to each other, I guess to keep it fresh or to stop them wanting to kill themselves. So it the show goes like this:
Bill: "So Carol it seems as if that bad weather on the way."
Carol (with an umbrella 16345 miles away for no reason): "That's right Bill. The weather is on the turn. We've got a north warm front rotating backwards over Barking..."
*ten minutes later*
Bill: "So Carol, bad weather is on the way isn't it?"
Carol (with an umbrella 16345 miles away for no reason): "That's right Bill."
*two minutes later*
Bill: "So Carol, the weather is turning bad seems as if that on the way."
Carol (with an umbrella 16345 miles away for no reason): "That's right Bill*
*one and a half seconds later*
Bill: "So Carol, is turning bad seems as that on the way the weather on is."
You're a bit tired the whole time - You know that feeling when you go abroad and you get jet-lag, so for a short while you're not sure who you are, why you are there, what meal you should be having, where you should be going, what you should be eating, what you should be wearing, where you live, who you are, whether you are a boy or a girl etc. That sometimes happens during the day, and you occasionally do silly things.
For example reader, last week... I found a three day old copy of the London Evening Standard in my fridge.
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I'm going to die - Google it. Put the words 'working the nightshift' or 'how to cope during the nightshift' into the search engine, and it will tell you that if you stay up beyond 11pm beyond any given evening you are going to die. Heart disease. Loneliness. Rabies. The lot.
So consider this to be my last article ever. BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!]]>The Problem With Reporting Suicidetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.22620752012-12-08T07:55:02-05:002013-02-07T05:12:02-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
About five months later, the Daily Mail stumbled across his inquest.
What upset me wasn't that the circumstances of his death had been reported, it was the fact that they boiled down his entire life to a few headlines, a few sentences detailing factors that led to his death followed by explicit details of what happened his final moments. I don't want to go into detail about what the 'so called' reasons of his death that were reported, or what happened next, but it was heartbreaking to read.
In the way that it was reported, it was as if the rest of his life didn't really matter. It was like there were no other factors involved beforehand, no other stresses or situations, no other personal struggles he could have been dealing with that could have resulted in his final actions. It was his entire life, boiled down to a couple of actions. A quick shock and saddened read.
The Daily Mail also took a couple of quotes from my blog post praising his creativity and attached it to the bottom of the article. That's of course fine acceptable, I mean my words were in the public domain so they could have been lifted by anybody, but it felt in a way like I had authorised the article being published in the first place. Like I had endorsed the words and the story above, that it is was perfectly acceptable to talk about his life in this way. Even though I never met the man and he probably barely knew me. And they even spelt my name wrong in this article.
Anyway I digress... The reason why I am writing about that is because of this. A young nurse has apparently taken her own life, two days after an Australian radio station fooled her into thinking that she was speaking to members of the Royal Family on the phone. At the moment there is now a massive blame game developing about who was truly responsible, even though we don't know why she committed suicide.
That's the thing. We'll never know why she committed suicide. Yes, 2DayFM did something incredibly, utterly, grotesquely wrong and they should be fined, closed down or made to feel truly ashamed of themselves, but what is happening now is the same of what happened to this guy from February. This young woman's life is now going to be laid out in the press for days to come, her life summed up in a couple of sentences and associated with one act that led to her death. A great deal of people will only remember her because of that 'stunt' a couple of days before. Her whole life, all her achievements and successes and her life story, overshadowed, brushed aside to create a simple narrative.
Treat suicide sensitively. Give the topic some respect. We don't know why it happened, we won't know why it happened. Suicide is an incredibly personal, horrible, complicated thing. Give her personal family some space. And if you are from the press and you are writing about this topic in the next few days, treat her with some respect too.
Samaritans. Available 24 hours a day to provide confidential emotional support for people who are experiencing feelings of distress, despair or suicidal thoughts. http://www.samaritans.org/]]>Face It - You Have A DOOMED TWITTER CRUSHtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.16705852012-07-16T07:27:44-04:002012-09-15T05:12:02-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
I don't even have Twitter. I don't believe in this claptrap at all *throws computer in bin to burn evidence*
And a crush? What me, an individual who only uses Twitter for professional purposes such as negotiating with others about synergy and innovation (so definitely not to look at funny shit or sexually provocative photos of Louis Tomlinson of One Direction in the shower)... having a doomed crush or sexual lust on another member of this shared technology? Poppycock.
You are lying. In fact I didn't tell you but I have wired you up to a lie detector test before you stumbled across this blog by accident, just so we can know for sure.
*readings have an accuracy of 99% under test conditions.
So how bad of a Twitter crush whore are you? Well I have calculated five different scientific levels that you may be in right now. Judge for yourself.
LEVEL ONE
Oh hello what is this? A quite a good looking person has started following MEEEEE...?
You then interact with said fittie. "ROFL ROFL ROFL" oh my he or she can also provide quite spot on conversational comedy within a very constrained word limit.
IS HE / SHE REALLY THAT ATTRACTIVE? *checks out their Twitter profile photo in a new tab*
Cheeky follow. You make it seem, oh so natural.
LEVEL TWO
After you have fallen in love with him / her because of their prose, you then spend the following three hours clicking on the 'Recent Images' and scrolling rapidly through every image until you find several ones of their THEIR FACE. You then try to work out whether the fittiness is forever or just at THAT angle.
You walk away contented of your new crush, but then 3 hours later you do EXACTLY THE SAME ALL OVER AGAIN.
At the same time you go go through their Twitter feed for any "I AM PRETENDING TO BE HAPPY BUT ACTUALLY I AM DYING OF LONELINESS" tweets, or hoping that there are no photos of them making pasta from scratch with their loved one on a Saturday afternoon 6 months back.
If details of his / her fittiness is rather vague, you will spend approximately the next three days scrolling through their blog, their Linkedin, their Facebook page, their abandoned MySpace page, their underage Bebo page, Google, Google+ *negative points if they are a frequent user*, The Metropolitan Police Sexual Predator List and of course Bing *LOLS JKS YOU WON'T EVER CHECK BING*
LEVEL THREE
Is your first thing you look at in the morning Twitter? DW it's like TOTES natural to do so. But is the first thing you look at is your Twitter crush, scrolling backwards through all of their tweets that they may have done in the previous seven hours just in case they spilled some late night emotional beans or had a FLIRTATIOUS CHAT WITH SOME SORT OF SEXUAL AND RELATIONSHIP COMPETITOR? Congratulations you are at Level 3.
In a fit of rage you look through that said 'sort of sexual and relationship competitor' trying to work out how far their friendship traces back, how long they frequently contact each other, whether that person is like a TOTAL SLUT etc.
You then try to inadvertently get involved with said 'slut' the next time they start chatting as a means to make it seem that you are sort of the BETTER SLUT. You get all their jokes about the Big Bang Theory (when you don't), you show you really care about how journalism is going down the toilet or the fact that 1p pennies are no longer as convenient currency. But then take so much time to think of a witty response during a conversation about how the HMRC helpline musak sounds like ducks farting, that when you finally respond you realise that your doomed crush is no longer tweeting. You subsequently DIE INSIDE.
If none of the following above apply, you just fantasise about them sending you a Direct Message saying "TOUCH MEEEEE".
LEVEL FOUR
I AM HIDING IN THE BUSHES OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE
LEVEL FIVE
You write a blog post about how funny it is that we all have doomed Twitter crushes.
]]>Being Dyslexic Can Actually Be Bloody Brillianttag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.15311932012-05-21T19:00:00-04:002012-07-21T05:12:12-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
I was diagnosed about three years ago, during the second year of my university study, undetected throughout my entire school life. If you have to place how dyslexic I am on some sort of scale, I'm approximately halfway between "he can write completely fine" and "OMG what has he just written down on that piece of paper OMG."
If I could describe my dyslexia it would be like this - I can think and speak like most people just as well, but when it comes to writing my thoughts down a little 'block' comes into my head. For no reason whatsoever, I cannot copy what I have in my head on to the page. I just can't. I have to add several more words to compensate for the word I originally intended to write down, so the whole thing ends up looking like spot the ball competition, but with my sentence structure.
Now dyslexia affects people in different ways. It can be a major block to getting through school and getting through work. However, dyslexia isn't all that bad. In fact I ABSOLUTELY FREAKING LOVE IT. Here's why:
1: I can only write as if I am trollied: I cannot write essays, I cannot write any formal documents.
If I try to write in the third person you might as well put what I write into a blender. None of it makes sense.
However, there are no problems with me writing in the first person, in a chatty frame of mind, or to be more precisely, writing as if I have just had 18 Kopperburgs and I am about to make my move on you. The only way I can communicate in life, in writing, is if I am a total tool.
It's weird, but I love it.
2: The fact that when you are in education you do get freebies:
The rumours are true - dyslexics DO get freebies from the government. When I was diagnosed I received a computer in my bedroom, full to the brim of software to help me get over traumatising essays. It was a massive help.
The best software was Dragon, which allowed me to dictate my essay via a microphone into Microsoft Word. "Brilliant", I thought. "I can blast through an essay in about five minutes."
But it was never really as easy as that. In fact there were one or two setbacks. One of which was that if you ever said the words "microphone on" it would turn the microphone on. If you said the words "microphone off" it would turn the microphone off.
That meant, that if you were in the bedroom, you had a radio on, and at any moment the radio said anything around the word "on" and a word beginning with the letter 'm' directly before that word, my computer would turn the microphone on, happily open Microsoft World and transcribe approximately 17,000 words for the next six hours, without your knowledge. I never had to iPlayer a radio programme as it just DID IT for me the previous morning.
3: The fact that as a dyslexic writer I don't have to give a shit about language:
I admit this can seem contradictory. Writers are suppose to be champions of the word as an art-form. We're suppose to be into preserving 'proper English' forever, with the thought that if we turn our back on lecturing people about how it should be written for one afternoon, the whole language will be decapitated.
The fact is, because I'm never going to get it right, I don't care about preserving the English language at all - this whole lark about "making sure that everything is grammatically correct with no spelling mistakes". I don't give a toss.
If you like to lecture about using grammar correctly and abide by the god like rules of Eat Shoots and Leaves, you are officially weird. What is the point of spending your entire life correcting other people's language use (bar primary school teachers *they get high fives*)? Why do you get offended when someone starts a sentence with a 'but'? WHY?
I mean, the internet is currently pissing about a billion litres of words out every square minute. A lot not suiting to your standards. Face it. You've lost.
Not all of us did English Language and Literature to your university degree level standard. There is no uniform 'style guide' that reminds us the difference between affective/effective and so forth. My motto is "If you've got the gist of what the other person is saying or writing, leave it be. And if you don't get the gist? Just nod and smile anyway."
And if you've got one of those 'I can only care about people who use it's and its in the right way' on your Twitter bio, I hope an apostrophe stabs you in your sleep.
--
Dyslexia can cause setbacks in numerous ways. It isn't the same for every dyslexic person, and it isn't just in terms of writing things down. For example:
1. Dates:
We have a whiteboard at home where we draw on the dates in pen in pre-printed boxes every couple of months and add any special occasions or public holidays manually. So according to our house calendar between now and the end of June there are something like eight Bank Holidays. Oh and May has like 33 days in them. And according to this calendar half my mates have their birthdays on a different date than they actually think it is on.
2. Names:
Now I'm not sure whether we have actually met or not, but if you have ever met me in the past, I'm sorry to say that I have already forgotten your name. I'm great with faces, I never forget a face. But literally... the first time we ever meet, you say your name to me, I shake your hand *PFFFF* it's gone. I've tried writing down people's names in my journal as a way to remind myself of your name, I've tried to do the Paul McKenna routine of closing your eyes, saying your name several times, twirling around, dancing the Lindy Hop to remind myself... nothing.
Now I could be crap at names generally as a means of habit, but just until I'm wronged... if I ever bump into you in the London Underground or wherever don't be confused if I look at your face and scream "DYSLEXIA".
3. Job Applications:
As a manager at your top company, are you looking for a brilliant team-player to join your team? Somebody who is a great problem solver, with great communication skills, analytical skills? Somebody who thinks outside the box?
So why are you asking for asking for everyone to apply 100%... in writing? It has been claimed by scientists that a lot of dyslexic people have excellent problem-solving and analytical skills, but a lot of dyslexic people share a weakness, and that is WRITING. WRITING ABOUT HOW WE HAVE ALL OF THOSE SKILLS DOWN.
Now you might think - why not send them a podcast about why you would make a good employee? Why not make a funny little film? Why not doodle about all of your skills on a large FANTASTICAL BALLOON? Well in some scenarios it could work, but for big corporate giants that force you to respond to 127482648 competency questions... no chance mate. No chance.]]>Admit It, This Titanic Lark is Just Disaster Porntag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14230692012-04-13T08:10:26-04:002012-06-13T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/The TITANIC SANK 100 YEARS AGO? Bloody hell, I mean there hasn't been any reports of it in any kind on the television, or other forms of news media has there?
THAT'S RIGHT I WAS BEING SARCASTIC. The Titanic disaster has been practically unavoidable. There have been souvenir copies of newspapers full of stories about how many had died, there have been documentaries like Nazi Titanic and The Final Word with James Cameron that dwell on how it all sank, there have been debates and articles about it's legacy and what it all means. And that's before we even get to the Titanic drama on ITV, with production values so low it feels as if the boat isn't out at sea, it is actually positioned in an overflow car park.
But of course reporting, reviewing and 'drama-ing' the tragedy isn't unsuitable is it? We all aren't gawping at the history of the tragedy in the same way that we gawp at a traffic incident on the motorway that involves a beaten up Ford Fiesta... Are we?
Well... let's have a look at what's on later this week.
Titanic Real-Time
One popular way to follow the tragedy is via. @TitanicRealTime, a Twitter account with 66,000 followers, that allows us to "experience Titanic's epic journey by minute-by-minute tweets". You would think from a first glance that this would be an educational resource that would tell you how the disaster developed, but no, as it started at the start of the mission you get tweets from passengers such as "Barely slept last night. The beds were comfortable but the excitement is just too much!" and "Received a wireless message from La Touraine warning us of a thick ice-field, shouldn't be a problem according to the captain!" What response do you immediately think of when you see it pop on your news-feed? Only four words - YOU. GUYS. ARE. FUCKED.
It's a bit disturbing when you think about it - the fact that when you are in a nightclub or at home late on Saturday night, in between of banter of The Voice and X Factor or any random bollocks, you'll see 'pretend' tweets of fictional people going "ARGH ARGH WE'RE DYING WE'RE DYING WE'RE DYING" in real-time, 100 years ago. But of course we want to learn, not be entertained. Not be entertained or gawping like during certain films in the Saw franchise. OH NO.
Titanic on Radio 2
If that doesn't fit your bill, why won't you have a listen to Titanic: Minute by Minute on Radio 2? That's right, starting at 11.30 this Saturday night you'll be able to listen to the whole disaster minute-by-minute on the nation's favourite music radio station!
Now as it is live no preview discs are available, and I have to admit this does sound a whole lot more inventive than the normal Radio 2 late-night output of bagpipes on loop for several hours. However I am concerned by the fact that this disaster radio will be presented by Dermot O'Leary, who is best known for presenting The X Factor and not necessarily the sinking of large nautical vessels... with Penny Smith, from the heyday GMTV alongside Jeremy Vine.
Titanic... THE MEMORIAL CRUISE
Then there is the Titanic Memorial Cruise... a boat that is following the very same journey that the Titanic did 100 years ago (but of course going the whole way).
People paying thousands of pounds and travelling the same route and stopping at the same spot is a major tragedy, with many dressing up and frolicking around in the very same clothing on that era (like dodgy extras from Downton). This is a suitable way to cover the tragedy, apparently.
I mean in 100 years, will dressing up in the clothes as we wore in this time and recreating a suitable way for us to pay respect? Is it the fact that as the last Titanic survivor has died as of 2009, the rawness of the tragedy has been removed slightly? Possibly it's the fact that as of course there is no live camera footage we aren't connected to it as we are with modern day tragedies. I don't know.
What I find however, is that a great deal of the news coverage, social media and programmes this week aren't really an opportunity for us to fully evaluate the tragedy where 1,514 people died.
No. This is just disaster porn. Isn't it?]]>Why I'll Miss Analogue Television... And Why You Will Tootag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.13882152012-03-29T13:06:20-04:002012-05-29T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
Well depending on where you live, it's actually already happened or will happen, or is happening between 2009 and the end of April in 2012, but you know, sod off I don't have time to adjust my writing for your own geographical location. IN FACT YOU KNOW WHAT I FIND IT RATHER INSULTING.
The switchover is actually quite monumental when you think about it. Analogue TV has been around since the age when you could only listen to radio via a can of baked beans and some string, has never screwed up or become unfashionable (until the last decade or so) and was a universal technological innovation that we all loved, one that required no tip-top internet speed to acquire, no top-of-the-range system to purchase first. All you needed was a knock-off TV SUBSTANTIALLY DISCOUNTED at the Co-op (like a Sarny or a Tashibo) for £20 and you were set, set for life.
Now don't get me wrong Digital TV has got its perks, many perks in fact (I've just gotten into a show on the Food Network where two female cooks in Washington make dresses out of cupcakes for no reason), but analogue TV had it all going on. Think of it. When the last signal switch gets switched off at Alexandra Palace (or wherever)...
1. Thunderstorms will be less exciting.
When you were younger and a big summer storm was on the way (as in British Summer Storm when nothing will be damaged but all the pigeons will be startled), your TV signal used to f-u-z-z for about six or seven seconds every time a lightning bolt hit something within a thirty mile radius. You know, that farting noise when everything will go wiggily. Chris Tarrant's head would turn red, then green, then red and orange within two and a half seconds. When I was younger, and was more frightened of thunderstorms than I am now, I would see the sudden movement of the TV signal going in and out of an approaching storm in the same way that the scared kid in Jurassic Park sees that bottle of water bounces bigger and bigger before that massive T-REX goes "RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S THE NINETIES."
Now, all you're going to see when an apocalyptic piece of light rain in the horizon is your TV signal won't fuzz, but instead some massive corporate logo announcing that you've got 'no signal'. The blue screen of death will ensue. It is like shit weather has been brought to you by Microsoft Windows.
2. More choice is bollocks.
Just like with Sky Atlantic showing the new series of Mad Men just to its cherished 'Sky' customers, more and more shows are going to be shown down increasingly confusing and vague valleys that only certain people can afford.
Think of the near future. Posh people across the land will cackle into their soy chai lattes about that new Bear Grylls thing that you cannot get on a basic subscription, you'll spend your Friday nights increasingly soullessly flicking between '4MUSIC' and 'VIVA' minding the adverts whilst your Sky / Virgin friends are two-and-throwing across a musical pony fantasy land with a quad-billion of channels that rewinds and fast-forwards every PPI Insurance advert THERE EVER HAS BEEN AND EVER WILL BE.
3. Channel launches are going to be much less exciting from now on.
The launch of Channel 5, when I was eight, was possibly the most exciting moment of my life. It was interrupted by my grandmother disconnecting the TV set to do the hoovering mind, but the other 35 minutes of watching a clock counting down on-screen leading to an unexpected appearance by the Spice Girls was an utter joy to behold. It was very much like the day when you were five and you were given a balloon at the opening of a local Woolworths, or the opening of a new shopping centre when 'DJ Duncan' will drop some beats leading to the appearance of some of the lesser known Gladiators outside an AllSports. Unforgettable moments that you'll remember for the rest of your life.
But now what do have instead? A BILLION channels exploding and imploding simultaneously, with new channels with banal names like 'TYCOON' and 'BACON' and +11 bollocks, disappearing and reappearing without you noticing, or caring. No more balloons kids. It is deflated. Like your hopes and dreams.
LOL JOKES HERE COMES THE SPICE GIRLS.
4. Teletext is rubbish these days.
Funky text. Jazz organ. BBC TWO. Late night. Pages looking like it was constructed by Lego on a bad day.
And what is BBC Interactive or Teletext like these days on digital?
It's shit.
5. Working out how to use your manual remote control.
The joy when you were younger of receiving a new bright and shiny modern television with what seems to be a home cook oven attached to the back, plugging it into the wall and sticking that other wire into a place where you think a conventional wire cannot fit, and then alas trying to 'Find Channels' for the first time.
No wait you've clicked on the colour settings.
Oh god its gone monochrome.
I know, I wonder what happens if I turn the 'brightness' to 0? Oh look everyone on TV looks like they're in a cave!
Alright, you've got it back now. Maybe press the menu button to get back to where you were.
Okay now you've selected a button called 'Variation'. Nobody knows or understands 'Variation' is.
Okay now you've selected a button called 'Index Repositioning'. Nobody knows or understands 'Index Repositioning' is.
Okay you've now selected a button called 'Manual Disc'. Nobody knows or understands what 'Manual Disc' is.
You do this for approximately three hours.
These days they've found all of the channels for you, like you're a child who can't have any control over anything any more. Okay on Freeview you still mess with a couple of buttons to get it working, but back in the day there was a level of unparalleled satisfaction when you've managed not to make every consecutive channel on your remote above the number 4 BBC TWO in a dodgy blender. No longer will you have the matter of whether or not you have Channel 5 within your part of the United Kingdom as a topic of conversation...
Progession. Don't you just hate it?]]>The Problem With Playing it Straighttag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12100382012-01-17T07:51:05-05:002012-03-18T05:12:01-04:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/"awww", and you hear that there's this new TV show that is offering you the chance to win £25,000 and the opportunity to choose any one of eleven attractive single guys to fall in love with! Too good to be true? Well of course there's a catch. Some of the guys you've got to pick from? Well some of them are pretending to be straight, and are in fact, gay.
That is, in all the concept of the dating gameshow Playing it Straight, returning to E4 after a break on our screens for seven years. I guess the reason why this show is back on our screens again is because the lifestyles between gay and straight men are becoming more and more blurred. Since we all now buy a platter full of hair care and facial products on a daily basis (and occasionally follow the latest developments in Desperate Housewives) it is now harder to tell whether the average joe walking down the street is straight or gay.
And yes, according to the show's first episode, it is harder to tell gay people and straight people apart. The single girl Cara found it very difficult to work it out who amongst the fitties didn't swing her way. Filippo who she singled out as being straight ending up being gay, and Kyle who she suggested was gay ending up telling her that he was straight. The stereotypes are falling apart! The borders are becoming more blurred! Right?
Wrong. As a gay man, I have found it astonishing that this sort of entertainment show is still being commissioned in this day and age.
Let me tell you why.
My experience of coming out at school at 14 was one that I do not look back fondly. I was comfortable with my sexuality from a very young age and I even came out in during a French class, uttering "Je suis homosexuelle" to a close friend whilst learning phrases from a French dictionary (I originally did plan to say that as a joke but could not remember how to say the phrase "Lol I'm joking" in French immediately afterwards, when asked whether what I said was actually true).
What I didn't expect of was the reaction by the 400 or so others in the school who then, by the power of gossip over the next three-and-a-half hours, found out. From that day onwards, until the moment I left secondary school and escaped to Sixth Form, I was constantly bullied. You can guess what it was like. The standard name-calls of "queer" and "batty boy" when a teacher was out of ear shot, the flopping hands in front of my face movement and raising your voice to sound feminine when with a male friend for example. Crossing legs in a different way. 'Flirting' with different guys when I wasn't. You know the drill. The standard.
The thing is, I didn't consider myself to have any of these personality traits. To an extent I still don't. Whenever I act hyperactive, I never considered it to be related to my sexuality. It is totally fine of course if you act in any way different than what is considered to be the "hetero" stereotype of course, but what made me angry and confused for all of those years was the perception that people were having of me. Why were people singling me out and treating me as I am this person I'm not? Am I really that different? Should I act in this way? Is that the way to be socially accepted if I fit this expectation they have of me?
I then had to think extra hard about the way I was acting in front of others at all time, just in case a certain mannerism I had was "found out" to be out of the ordinary. Never talk about gay topics or bring in gay related magazines. Never wear clothing that might be considered to be too loud in case I appear too camp. Downplay my sexuality as much as physically possible, just so I can feel normal and be happy with myself. And what developed instead? Deep self-loathing in who I was and who I 'pretended' to be.
So in the show Playing It Straight what did the presenter, Jameela Jamil, tell the guys in the first episode?: "Some of you have been lying about your sexuality, and it is Cara's job to literally out you on the show. All I can tell you is that you're going to have to put your butchest foot forward, as she is going to be eliminating each one of you that she think is gay throughout the show..."
They have to act butcher. They have to think extra hard about the way they are acting in front of peers and the girl in question, just in case a mannerism they have makes them found out to be out of the ordinary. This seems familiar.
The show comprises of little competitions to help Cara, and of course help the viewer at home of course, decide who the gays amongst them guys are. Dress up competitions (maybe if they like it too much they may be a gay!), one-on-one dates with Cara (maybe if they are a bad kisser they might be playing is straight!), 'cockfights' when the guys wrestle etc etc. You catch my drift.
Of course a guy might not be able wrestle, can't kiss for the life of him and does feel comfortable dressing up in something that you would find in Debenhams and might be actually straight... but to the viewer there still seems to be this subtle message that these stereotypes exist and it is still possible, heck even recommended, to go and identify these subtle differences between gay and straight people throughout the show as a sort of game. Heck, you can even join in for fun on Twitter: "I don't think straight men use the word 'divine'", a Twitter user wrote yesterday. "I think the pastey posh one is also a gay" wrote another.
And what was it like for the people bullying me throughout my early teenage years? A game. A game where they could boast and taunt and celebrate every time I acted supposedly camp in front of them, the prize for me feeling confused and upset. A game that forced me to change who I was, just in case I was singled out and accused of being 'different' than everybody else.
Thanks Playing it Straight. Thanks for helping me remember how the game worked.
Playing It Straight E4. Mondays. 9pm.]]>Why This Whole Jeremy Clarkson Story is a Farcetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11229382011-12-01T09:14:51-05:002012-01-31T05:12:02-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
No I'm not referring to Jeremy Clarkson's comments on The One Show last night, saying that he would take all public sector workers "outside and execute them in front of their families."
No, its whats happened afterwards which is a disgrace. Unison coming out and demanding that he should be fired from the BBC with immediate effect.
Ed Miliband demanding that he should apologise publicly for what he said. Twitter going mental. The BBC News Channel using Jeremy Clarkson as a main headline (with updates on their funky little red banner at the bottom) and higher up in the news agenda than ACTUAL World Aids Day.
This whole media campaign is a farce. For these three reasons:
Yes we all know that he is a Tory, a snob, a loudmouth, an anti-environmentalist and a show-off, but what we see in interviews and on the TV is merely the exaggeration of his character. He cannot always be like that. Its his persona. You may not like his persona, you might think that he is erring on the extreme, but he is not encouraging people to be executed. Heaven forbid then why Unison want to get the police involved.
2. Why are the media stirring up this massive controversy about this man?
Because its easy for them.
I know that a lot of people don't like him, but the media are trying to make controversy as if it was said by a public official, a government employee or somebody else in the limelight, ignoring the fact that at the end of the day, he is an entertainer known for saying such things.
The media know he doesn't necessarily believe these views, a lot of us know that as well, but for those in telly and newspaper land it is easy for them to start a debate about whether he is right as an entertainer so say such things, because it encourages the sections of society who don't like him, or don't get him. It starts this vicious cycle that can fill up airtime pointlessly, and encourage writers, like myself, to comment about it in articles giving another another take on the situation. Like right now.
3. Jeremy Clarkson is now going to thrive from all of this publicity.
You know why Clarkson was on The One Show last night? Not from his own free-will, not because he wants to comment on a feature about otters and then crimes committed by dodgy builders in Surrey. No. He was on The One Show to comment on his latest DVD, which is out very soon and that you can go and purchase at all good retailers.
What the media has done in the last 24 hours has given him the exposure that his marketing and PR friends would be having a wet dream about. He'll be in the press lauded by commentators for days. His column in The Sun will this weekend or whenever be an unmissable read. His next series of Top Gear would instantly start a massive debate to drive viewers, just like the episodes after the whole Mexican brew-ha-ha with Richard Hammond and James May from last year.
So just think. For every hundred or so people 'outraged' about what he has just come out and said on Twitter and on TV (as expected), there is definitely some people out there thinking "When is his DVD out again?"
Our outrage is a win-win for him.
And that's why this whole news story is a farce.]]>What We've Got To Change Before The Olympics Gamestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11194662011-11-29T17:46:11-05:002012-01-29T05:12:01-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
Right now though, London needs to get its act together. We've got the biggest celebration happening on our doorsteps in literally months and we're acting like cynical bastards.
You can't blame us really. Right now all we've got to show for ourselves is an army of athletes younger than us that we are jealous of because they have the ability to bounce off bullets off their abs, an Olympic park that is ready in-time and on-budget yet lacking a little bit of soul and an economy that possibly is right now, has been, or will be...f*cked.
Here are some things we've got to change. Right now. So that Sydney can wipe their well-tanned smile off its Australian face, and so we can nick the title of throwing the greatest (non-communist) Olympic games ever.
1. People who mope on about how the Olympics cost so much
You know what costs a lot of money? The Olympics. You know what also costs a lot? Pensions. Food. War. University. Birthday Cards. Ready meals. Basingstoke. Gas bills. Going to a nightclub in the mood that you will get some action, but then you don't so you then eat alone at the greasy burger van around the corner at 2am STARING INTO NOTHINGNESS before walking home in a cynical circle of self-loathing and denial. Healthcare. The 'super-unleaded diesel' you never use at petrol station. Death.
You get the point.
Plus also, to all the moaners out there, you forget the fact that in 50 years with natural inflation £6.6 billion will be the cost of something at Poundland or some food that you would get with chips so YOUR GRANDCHILDREN WILL THINK THAT IT WAS A STEAL.
2. People who think that transport will be a nightmare
You know what is an actual nightmare? Having to read people in the national newspapers and hear people moan all the time that the Olympic transportation system is going to be a nightmare. If you've happened to have moaned in the last week about this, congratulations. You've officially complained about something that is 27 times further away than the length of the actual the event itself.
Its a bit like predicting "Oh woe is me I fear that on the day of my funeral the weather might be foggy. What if my foreign cousins aren't able to arrive in light aircraft?" Get over yourself.
3. Taxi drivers who are complaining about the possibility of congestion
DON'T YOU REALISE THAT TAXI DRIVERS ALWAYS COMPLAIN?
4. People who complain that they didn't get tickets
Yes, it has gone to all of the corporate whores and people who are best mates of corporate whores, but who needs them? if you've not got tickets and you miss out, then hey you don't have to pretend to care if the event itself turns out to be utterly and completely dull.
At home you'll have the ability to flick over to Hollyoaks or The Fantasy Channel and no-one would be able to judge you. Relatives mind...
5. People who believe that visitors will find the London Underground pathetic...
You forget, if you are a common London visitor, that when you first visit the Underground as a tourist or a new arrival IT BLOWS YOUR ACTUAL MIND.
Tube doors that open like a meat slicer > Train doors with open buttons that open anyway > Funky lines out of the window that bounce up and down between stations like a pulled-out slinky > A Circle line that doesn't make any sense > Train announcements that tell you that everything is good or horrific but please remember to step away from the platform edge... It doesn't matter if you arrive to your event seven-and-a-half hours late you would be more appreciated by the fact that you got there in an obscure bendy bus that seemed to have been making it up as it went along.
6. People who complain that the Olympics logo looks like a cartoon character in a rather awkward...
You'll never get over it. I'm sorry about that.
7. Those who are worried about the legacy
Don't worry about that Mr (or Mrs) - this is a unisex column - the fruits of the Olympic legacy are already blooming. Stratford has got a shiny new stadium that may or may not ending up being a venue for a international telecommunications brand, trendy East Londoners are already waking in shock each day realising that John Lewis is closer to where they live than most of Middle England and we are already witnessing a new generation of people who are able to withstand all conditions and pull of incredible feats of stamina and agility...
Well either this is caused by the Olympics or this is just people who are able to withstand a queue overnight in order to get the new Skyrim game. Either way.
So.. tell me. What would you change?]]>TV Hit or Sh*t? - Sorority Girls, Shipwrecked, PBS and Gleetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10872252011-11-10T18:47:56-05:002012-01-10T05:12:01-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/
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YOU GOTTA WATCH... Sorority Girls (Tuesdays, 9pm, E4)
I love it when producers go blatantly out of the way to lie to you. For example, according to the voiceover of this new reality competition show on E4, "For the first time, the secret world of the sorority..." (a division of girls in universities who try all they like to act fit and proper) "...is coming to the UK. Five of America's finest sorority girls are here to launch Britain's first ever sorority..."
No, producers, you told them to come here. Because where is this My Fair Lady on acid setting up their first ever sorority?
Leeds.
At one point one of the sorority girls tells us that "I think the English girls are going to be a bit reserved, but I hope this experience breaks them out of their shell a little bit, and by the end they will be singing and dancing and matching outfits just like us."
YOU'RE IN LEEDS.
So you know where this heading... eight weeks of snooty American women slowly realising that the stereotypical 'gentle lady' of the British woman they've grown to adore is as nearly as fake as Dick Van Dyke's accent in Mary Poppins. 60 minutes of programming every Wednesday consisting of women showing off their tattoos and the fact that they can lick their own elbows in a talent contest to 'judges' who have the personality of the extras in 90210 and Dawson's Creek...
It is brilliant.
*I had to mention both American's dramas to cater for those both over and under 20 who may be reading this*
The main joy of this episode though isn't the reaction of both people too each other, but actually the profiles of the American sorority girls themselves. Whilst the frats (guys) in the US get drunk and possibly simultaneously naked with each other for no reason, all of the girls try to be poised, have morals, and be ambitious... oh and apparently be incredibly scary by their forced personality (always chanting sayings whilst clapping their hands, jumping on top of beds clumsily saying "I call top bunk" like children's TV presenters even though nobody else in room is under 24).
There are 'personality videos' at the start highlighting who these sorority 'judges' really are, just to confirm the idea that these girls are just like the women in Desperate Housewives (forcibly nice in public but are actually dying and crying inside). There's one where a Bree Van De Kamp in her 20s announces to a committee room "I've accomplished every goal I've set. I've got no problem being in charge of the UK." She then says "Today we will be voting for the new colo[u]r of the bathroom. Those who say pink, say 'I'."
I don't need to cringe here as you, the reader, are already doing it.
Another judge organises charity volleyball games for the animal shelter, another one likes to mention the words "PLC" to mean "poor life choices" at all times. There is also a judge who "apparently" likes to sit in cafes and write down whether people are wearing something that is appropriate and inappropriate at all times.
I know that the producers like to exaggerate things a bit, but these girls 'as part of tradition' like to dress up in cloaks and do sacred rituals to 'bless their new home' "as a bonding experience" in robes holding candles. They sing after interviewing 25 girls in their humble abode in North Yorkshire "Sigma Gamma blesses this house with everything we have. We promise to respect the four walls around us, the floors beneath us, and we take this oath to make it ours. We promise to cherish it, to love it, to preserve it and to make it our sorority home."
I just love the fact that all the British girls are competing for something so mental.
Oh by the way lock your windows. I think that they are currently in your garden in cloaks running around cackling brandishing knives.
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YOU GOTTA AVOID... Shipwrecked
What do you do when you take 12 people you completely hate and shove them on to an island for no reason? Arguments. Thousands of thousands of arguments.
To fuel it... let's add some horrific stereotypes - the dumb jock, the guy who wants to shout how much of an amazing leader he is, a guy who can't be bothered to do anything and rolls his eyes back at any opportunity, an ex-Miss *insert name here*. I mean, this show is made purposely to get you angry, which is weird, because it is normally shown at a time of day when, if you are watching, you are hungover as a horse and you can't be bothered to follow the dialogue.
The good news is that everyone is wearing skimpy clothing. So if you are going to watch it, at least do the dignified thing and watch it in mute.
And... PBS - How I wanted to say nice things about the launch of this channel. This institution in the states is a step away from all of the other primetime crap the US chunders out every single day, bringing top art and documentaries such as Frontline and The American Experience. But can I write anything nice about it for you? Well no. I can't, because in order to watch it on Sky I have to purchase their premium entertainment package first, despite the fact that it the channel stands for "public service broadcasting." Sigh.
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Sky Anytime it...
Glee - I thought this show had past its peak, by the fact that ratings are falling apart in the US and that since it has been bought by Sky One from E4 in the UK nobody gives an actual toss anymore. I am alas wrong though, it can still hit it. This week's episode, which focuses on a few of the characters deciding to lose their virginity to each other, is pretty notable by the fact that it involves two of the show's main gay characters, Kurt and Blaine, as well as two of the main the straight characters. ON AMERICAN PRIME TIME TELEVISION. ON THE ACTUAL FOX NETWORK.
The way it tackles the issue is tender and sweet, and doesn't sugarcoat it. You might cringe at a show that likes to have its whole cast covering Rebecca Black's Friday, but I give credit where its due.
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Coming up...
X FACTOR - ITV, Saturday, 8.15pm - Only 90 minutes long this week *cough*, we find out what contestant that left the show is back to add to the farce this has all become.
PAN AM - BBC 2, Wednesday 9.00pm - If another critic says that this is "Mad Men with tea trays" I might just kill myself. It's a good drama, but ratings haven't gone well in the states so who knows how long it'll last.]]>Why You Have to Watch 'The Only Way Is Dalston'tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10220472011-10-21T19:00:00-04:002011-12-21T05:12:01-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/according to Vice Magazine, The Only Way Is Dalston is coming to MTV.
"Wahey!", you are thinking sarcastically. Another show, like The Only Way Is Essex and Made In Chelsea comprised of self-indulgent gits who fill our screens with their unrelenting sense that they mean something, when actually we watch them because they can't fake act for sh*t. You only have to pick up a copy of the London Evening Standard to see the impact that these shows have created: Ollie Locke or some other person with long hair frolicking in their pointless West London pad telling you why you should care about their new pointless West London pad, while scantily-clad badly tanned women with windscreen wiper eyelashes in OK! Magazine harp on about you why their ex-boyfriend is a whore.
So you'd think that when I heard the news that cool East Londoners will be next under the lens of the cameras I would be disgusted, immediately whip out my keyboard to write the words "DEAR INTERNET" and start shrieking.
Wrong.
Even though I have lived in East London until very recently, I cannot wait for the programme to come to our screens.
Why?
Because East Londoners need to have the piss taken out of them...urgently.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't have a vendetta against where I lived or any grudge that caused me to move from the area at all. In fact I love the area. You've still got a lot of indie culture right there on your doorstep, you've got brilliant access to the rest of the city's transport infrastructure, and most of all, by living there you get the thrill of being able to possibly see your house in the background at some point of the opening titles of The Apprentice, during those helicopter shots of the side of the nearby Gherkin.
However, the more I lived there the more something became rather came apparent: how serious you have to be if you are living there. How bizarre everyone was. How everything you express has to come with a meaning, and how nearly everything you listened to had to have the sound "WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB FWAB FWAB FWAB FWAB FWAB"attached to it at all times.
Take style for example. All clothes had to be at a certain angle. A certain proportion of people living here wore sunglasses inside and outside at all times, so much so that after a while you start to think that it is attached their body biologically, like the Home Secretary Theresa May and her outfit that makes it look like she is actually a Sontaran from Doctor Who.
Then there are some of the characters who lived in the area. There was a homeless person directly outside my street who would play the same note on the accordion on loop while dancing on one foot until around 3am. When a passer-by would eventually give them a few coins, the homeless man would be offended, would throw back the money at them, and then shout the words "I NEED SOME WEED."
But the best example to show how uber-serious and weird the local area is was a time that the flat directly below me threw a party. I knew that they were having a get-together because the subwoofers were causing my washing machine to bounce higher than it would during its final spin. Plus there were three people having a collective piss in the hallway. Anyway one of the residents of the house invited my housemate James and I to attend to "drop by" and "check us out". I was certainly in the mind of doing so, primarily because it was 2.30am and my windows were bouncing, so I decided to have a pop in before putting in my mouldable ear plugs* in to block out the noise and head off to bed.
Without a doubt, it was the most f*cked up party that I have attended in my life.
When I entered the flat I saw three people taking photographs of each other, in the shower... whilst the shower was on. It wasn't a jokey "let's go and get our boobies moist because we're drunk" sort of wet, it was "let's all stand in the shower and pose like these photos are being taken by Annie Leibovitz" sort of wet. They were leering over each other in weird positions, like an Ikea wardrobe that you've assembled badly, whilst a photographer in the hallway was clicking his flash camera saying the words "Do it. Yeah. Bend it. Yeah. Pose it. Believe it."on loop. Everyone there was taking it seriously. Someone was even complaining about the poor lighting and whether anyone had a lightbulb that wasn't of the dim energy-saving variety.
The room next to the bathroom was the living room, and the sound blasting out of it was the music that I could hear from the floor above. Weirdly enough, even though there was a layer of concrete between us, the sound you could hear was exactly the same. The stereo was basically farting. Inside the room everyone was collectively staring out of the window at the passing traffic. No-one was talking to each other (you couldn't talk over the sound of the fat car belching), half the people were staring out of the window and occasionally leaned out so they could feel the slight misty rain coming from the rooftop above. Vocally the room was dead for half-an-hour straight. After a while of being vaguely puzzled I wandered over to someone in the corner and asked them why nobody was talking to each other. "This is a time for thinking. And this is the place to do it" she said. I felt weird.
It was at this moment that I wanted to leave, but I couldn't (my friend there had been coaxed into the corner of another room by two people with beards asking him about the influence of Nietzsche's work). I therefore sat in the corner of the living room drinking a warm Budweiser wondering if some people wearing ripped clothing bought it ripped, whether the ripped bits of their clothing developed through time, or whether they did it deliberately by throwing themselves down some stairs or attacked themselves with those soft felt scissors you got in primary school.
So would I like The Only Way Is Dalston to be aired? Well I don't necessarily see how cool East Londoners can be exempt from the programmes that take the mick out of other sections of society, like posh rahs living in Made In Chelsea and various people who did too much of the fake tan in The Only Way Is Essex. We don't watch these type of programmes because we don't actually care about the plotlines of the show or the ups-and-downs of their pretentious lives.
No. We love these programmes because we hate their arrogance and we love every opportunity that they either fluff their lines and say something bizarre or incoherent, and come across like pretentious idiotic losers. East London certainly has a few people who are like this.
But most of all, I want you to watch such a programme and get some enjoyment by realising how f*cked up the area can be sometimes.
A warning though MTV. A few of them may be so drugged up to their eyeballs you might need to use subtitles to help the audiences understand what is going on. Subtitles certainly would have helped when I lived there.
*If you live in a busy street I highly recommend them.]]>Why the 'Delivering Quality First' Cuts Made Sensetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9981312011-10-06T19:00:00-04:002011-12-06T05:12:02-05:00Scott Bryanhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-bryan/'Delivering Quality First' are terrifying. When an up-and-coming report uses such banal management speak in its title in order to distance itself from the subject matter it is dwelling on as far as possible, in this case for the BBC the big big word of CUTS, it is always leads it to everyone being fearful of what it will actually contain when it is released.
What service will be due to be closed down this time? What are they actually hiding? How large and significant will these cuts actually be?
Well now we know. Yesterday the BBC report was released to their staff and the public. You can read the full-scale of the cuts here, but already it has led to some people fearing that these £700 million worth of cuts by 2017 will inevitably slaughter the BBC and lead to the end of the public institution as we know it.
Well, it won't. In fact many of these cuts make sense, and could have been a lot lot worse.
Two clarifications I have to make though. The first one is that I am not a Daily Mail reader, or a Tory in any way shape or form. I do not believe that the BBC should be reduced to the size of cottage cheese. Secondly, even though this is my view I do sympathise with the 2000 talented professionals who will inevitably lose their job, especially at a time when the media industry as a whole is constantly slimming down so much you have to stab someone in the eye to get a job there in the first place. The BBC is certainly no longer a place that you can see yourself having a 'job for life', which is indeed sad to think about.
But, even if you are the most dire-hard BBC fan you have admit that some of the cuts, in some areas, did make a lot of sense. The policy of merging the news output of Radio 1 and Radio 1Xtra throughout the day, for example, considering that it is the same news to the same audience at the same time, is logical. So to is the policy that there will be only one newsreader reading the script on the BBC News Channel throughout the day, instead of this bizarre two presenters ping-pong "have a laugh" banter match whilst reading each other's lines. As well as this will you honestly miss BBC 2 daytime and the BBC Politics Show? Nope. Agreed that I'm not at an age where I would be considered its core audience, but they are hardly areas of programming that can be considered the 'crown jewels' of the BBC or something that another broadcaster can't do themselves. And as for Radio 2 and Radio 5 Live losing some of their comedy output? Radio 2 and 5 Live have comedy?
Other cuts that have been made will also make a difference, but coming to think of it won't dramatically see the BBC being a shadow of its former self. BBC 3 and BBC 4 will be "refocused" so that they play a more supportive role to both BBC 1 and BBC 2, which when you think about it, they do already. It also means that for the first time BBC 3 doesn't need to shy away from questions about why it exists in the first place. Instead of the channel arguing that it serves young viewers who actually don't really watch the channel (and actually watch How I Met Your Mother on E4 instead), it can proudly boast about how it helped push Show A and show Binto the limelight on BBC 1 a little bit more.
All in all, regardless of your view of the 'Delivering Quality First' cuts, it could have been so much worse. SO much worse. These cuts were the result of some rushed negotiations with the Government last Autumn at a time when the Tories were starting to swing bats in multiple directions to many public services. As these talks were only allowed to take place over a period of three days what was battered out was pretty straightforward and pretty short-sighted (a seven-year freeze to the £145.50 licence free and the handing over of the BBC World Service from the Foreign Office). If the Tories had a longer and more calculated approach to this they could have pressurised the BBC to make even more severe cuts that would have had more severe implications. At least for now the dust has settled on the Government side. And by the time they meet again the economy may have improved enough so that negotiations of further cuts wouldn't be necessary. We hope.
It also means that the BBC has opportunities as well. The BBC World Service, for example, which until only a few years ago could be rarely heard domestically, is now fully under the BBC's wing and accountable to licence fee payers. This real "crown jewel" can really now be marketed more towards domestic radio listeners as something like an upmarket Radio 5 Live with a truly international agenda. And before you become snarky and suggest that wouldn't work, may I suggest that you spend an afternoon listening to it yourself? Its brill.
Cuts are bad and cuts are annoying, but with the Tories in power and an economic crisis malarky taking place this was always going to happen. And you have to admit that with such bizarre cost-cutting ideas BBC management has had in the past *cough BBC 6 Music cough*, these cuts have been managed pretty well and won't ruin much of its core programming or its core public service broadcasting obligations (such as children's television, Radio 4 and news).