Guardian All Ears 17th April

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/17/michael-holden-all-ears#
(Article by Michael Holden)
In an American airport bar, I didn't notice what the woman sitting next to me had ordered, but I started to pay attention when she tried to negotiate over how long it should be cooked for.

Woman "Could I get that rare?"

Waitress "How do you mean?"

Woman "I'd like it cooked rare."

Waitress "I don't think we're allowed to do that. I think they all have to come the same way. It's good, though."

Woman (unmoved) "I don't want it medium rare or anything."

Waitress "I think it just comes how it comes. I never heard anyone complain about it. I'll check. Shall I check?"

Woman "Please check."

She left and came back triumphant, full of possibilities, channelling the remnants of the Obama vibe.

Waitress "Yes! Yes, we can do that."

Less than three minutes later the waitress brought the woman a plate of fish that looked anaemic. You could tell by sight that it would be a mistake to eat it.

Waitress "OK?"

Woman (pushing it away) "Can you cook this more?"

Waitress (taking it) "Absolutely."

She was gone for another few minutes and when she came back the fish looked edible. The woman, though, just looked at it sideways and prodded her Blackberry. Evidently she wasn't big on second chances.

Waitress (checking back, but happy to ignore the evidence on the plate) "How is everything?"

Woman (just as willing to maintain the delusion) "Everything's great."

Waitress (reaching for the untouched plate) "Are we done here?"

Woman (more right than she knew) "Yes we are".

Guardian All Ears 10th April

...due to various 'articles getting lost' & bank holiday shenanigans this was drawn in record time...anyone got Norris McWhirter's* number?
(*this reference severely dates me - Wikipedia him if you must)

(Article by Michael Holden)
At a football match the team I follow scored a fourth goal and I
noticed the young man to my left seemed unusually affected by this. He
crumpled, as though he had been shot and the two older men with him
pointed at him and began chanting.

Men “Pay your rent, pay your rent, pay your rent…”

Man1 “I can’t stand it, I can’t cope with this…”

Man 2 “What odds did you get?”

Man 1 “150 to one”

Man 2 “And you put a tenner down?”

Man 1 “Yeah.”

Evidently he had made a correct score bet, which would net him £1500
quid if nothing else happened for the next 15 minutes. From the faces
he was pulling you might have thought he was giving birth. And fair
enough, it did add a new excitement to a game that had, in spite of
its score, been a pretty hum drum affair. I looked at the clock and
spoke to him.

Me “That’s 100 quid a minute.”

Man 1 “Fuck off, your making it worse.”

Me “Sorry.”

Man 2 (Leaning across to me) “He hasn’t paid his rent in two months,
so it’s going on that.”

Man 1 “I’ll spend it how I like.”

Man 2 “You ain’t even got it!”

Man 1 (wriggling about, refusing to look at the game) “I can’t cope,
I’m gonna have a breakdown.”

Man 2 “Don’t think about it.”

Man 1 (watching through his fingers as the opposition closed in on
goal) “You bastards, you fuck this up and I will fucking come down
there…”

They scored. I couldn’t look at him, but he made a kind of wild
whimpering sound.

Man 1 “1500 quid!”

Man 2 (sagely) “Money you never had.”

Guardian All Ears 3rd April

I always used to love walking round Fresh & Wild dodging the 'status baby buggies' & surreptitiously planting boxes of mechanically retrieved chicken shapes on the shelves
(thanks to everyone for their suggestions for faddy overpriced super foods this week too - I love you all x)
See the original article here...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/03/michael-holden-all-ears-organic#
(Article by Michael Holden)
I tend to steer clear of the organic grocer. Not for reasons of taste or judgment, but of finance. Sometimes, though, it's the only place open that has what I need. So I wound up in the holistic and meditative mood space that passes for a queue, watching a woman pass parcels of unfeasible origin and expense to a cashier whose demeanour hovered between complete spiritual enlightenment and imminent rectal prolapse.

Cashier (holding up one of her boxes) "This stuff is amazing."

Woman "I'm kind of having a detox."

Cashier (nodding sagely) "Well, that should do the trick."

Woman "I'm not into fasting, you know?"

Cashier (noticing the woman's hand – which was tattooed with various forms of writing) "That's such a beautiful script."

Woman (thrilled) "You know it?"

Cashier "Uh-huh. I mean, I'm very impressed by all that culture – the whole mindset. I read as much as I can. I hope to go over there and study."

Woman (pointing out more writing on her arm) "Each moment decays as soon as it's born."

Cashier "That's one of the core beliefs, for me."

Woman "I love it – it's just so true."

All the more reason to get a move on, you might think. But this went on for some time, until I was charged £7 for five onions, a small bag of wheat and some pine nuts (never let it be said that I don't know how to have a good time). When I got home and began cooking, the onions turned out to be in a state of decay that paralleled our own, which cheered me up no end. I would have gone back and complained, but the moment was already collapsing.

Guardian All Ears 27th March

What sort of man has a name like 'Bear' for god's sake? Read on for clarity...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/27/michael-holden-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)
I like it when I know what people are talking about and was thus elated and frustrated in equal measure when the conversation at the next table in the pub moved from familiar to puzzling terrain.

Woman “Bear Grylls is a dick.”
Man 1 “Bruce Parry’s the one.”

Woman “Bear Grylls kills spiders. Spiders that he’s already upset.”

Man 1 “He’s no Ray Mears, that’s for sure.”

Man 2 “He pissed in his turban.”
Man 1 “Who?”
Man 2 “Bear Grylls.”
Man 1 (as confused as I was by this revelation) “Pissed in who’s turban?”
Man 2 “He pissed in his own turban.”

Man 1 (as though that made sense) “Oh, okay.”

I went outside to consider where, if anywhere, the truth might lie in this allegation, only to find two men smoking in the midst of an equally odd dialogue.
Smoker 1 “Your days as a narcissist are numbered.”

Smoker 2 “There’s a puritan backlash”

Smoker 2 “Definitely. And it’s only going to get worse.”

Back inside the backlash had already begun.

Woman “I don’t see how he can get away with it-pissing in a turban.”
Man 1 (hoping he would be saying this for the last time) “IT WAS HIS OWN TURBAN!”
Woman (after a considered delay) “That doesn’t make it alright.”

Guardian All Ears 20th March

(Article by Michael Holden)
The baggage carousel was once the final circle of holiday hell, a last chance to consort with you fellow travellers before normality resumed and all the strange vacation liaisons faded. Nowadays, people who meet on holiday have the option to haunt one another across the Internet for the rest of time. Good luck to them. The carousel though, especially an empty one that isn’t rotating, remains an arena for strange conversation. While a plane load of people muttered and found ways to blame New Labour for their lack of luggage, two men in their sixties recalled the previous night’s entertainment.

Man 1 “Some of the dancing was quite impressive.”

Man 2 (setting him up) “Yeah, but you’ve seen one whirling dervish…”

Man 1 (accepting gladly) “You’ve seen them all!”

Man 2 “That said, the second was much better than the first. He got up to full speed right away. There was no build up. Impressive rate of rotation-relative to the others.”

Man 1 “That belly dancer…”

Man 2 (lapsing into a florid-end of the pier-grin) “Big girl!”

Man 1 “Did you stay for the singer?”

Man 2 “No-she cleared most of the room-including me. At six pounds for a gin and tonic I need more incentive than that.”

Man 1 (poking at the bags that had started dribbling onto the carousel)“It wasn’t like she couldn’t sing.”

Man 2 (channelling the spirit of Cowell) “Quite. It was the wrong choice of song. Why come out with a soppy ballad? Better to have gone up tempo.”

Man 1 “Quite.”

Man 2 “That’s my bag!”

Man 1 (forlorn) “Good for you.”

Man 2 “I’ve got another one.”

Man (visibly cheered) “Oh, okay.”

Guardian All Ears 13th March

If only tube elocution was was more like this...
...although there's a brilliant announcement at Bank station where THE emphasis is HILARIOUSLY wrong - a bit like those commercials for furniture stores sales where the shop owner has foolishly decided to do it himself rather than pay a proper actor.
Anyone of a certain age from the south east ITV region (always brilliantly shonky & amateurish whether it was TVS, Meridian or whatever) might remember the late night adverts for Folkestone Sunday market where a still photograph with some letraset was over laid with the classic slogan 'bring large bags...& little money, to Folkestone Sunday Market'- they don't make 'em like that any...you get the idea!
Ahem! Article follows...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/13/michael-holden-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)

On a stationary plane the pilot made an announcement explaining that the aircraft must be de-iced prior to take off-hence our delay. He spoke clearly and with authority, this, combined with the implicit reminder that supersonic travel in freezing weather isn't something to be taken for granted quelled the collective sense of displeasure that had been spreading through the cabin. The couple next to me seemed impressed and reassured.

Woman: "They must go to college."

Man: "Who?"

Woman: "The Pilots."

Man: "Eh?"

Woman: "They must get training. In how to talk to people like that. So clearly."

Man: "I used to do that. Make announcements."

Woman: "When?"

Man: "I did work experience on the Victoria line."

Woman: "And they let you make the announcements?"

Man: "I think maybe they did it just to keep us busy."

Woman: "What sort of things did you have to say?"

Man: "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a person under a train at Caledonian Roadthere is no southbound service on the Picadilly line."

Woman: "And you used that voice?"

Man: "No, I used a nicer one. A sort of posh woman's voice."

Woman: (frowning, incredulous) "Let's hear it then…"

Man: (He gave her a look and then used a measured but nonetheless ridiculous tone, like a professional sportsman reduced to playing a pantomime dame, but determined to make a go of it) "Due to a person under a train there is no…"

Woman "Eugh, that's enough."

Man: "It sounds better over the PA.It comes out clearer."

Woman: "I'm glad you never got the job."

Man: "I never wanted it."

She scowled and turned back to her thick book of puzzles, as though they might prove more soluble somehow than the real world, and the man with whom she was about to go on holiday. .

Guardian - All Ears 6th March

Flying V's, neo Weller haircuts & a little peak at the Gallagher rhyming dictionary

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/06/michael-holden-all-ears

(Article by Michael Holden)
I walked into a pub the other day, where two grown men were arguing at the bar about which one of them might – in theory – have been the better musician, and loitered on the edge of their spat, feeling calm by comparison, as their antagonism flowed.

Man 1 (exasperated) "You've never even heard us play."

Man 2 (malign, mischievous) "But I know you're shite."

Man 1 "How would you know?"

Man 2 "I just know. I can see you in your room now, writing all fucking lyrics and whatnot."

Man1 "What do you know about my lyrics?"

Man 2 "I know they'll be shite."

Man 1 "You talk about it like you know, but what do you do? Sit in your room and play guitar to no one. You've never even been in a band."

Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics."

Man1 "Who's your favourite guitarist?"

Man 2 "Whose yours?"

Man 1 "Jeff Beck. You're not gonna tell me Jeff Beck can't play guitar?"

Man 2 (doing sarcastic air guitar motions) "Jeff Beck, man? Did you never see him with that Celtic clasp round his arm? He's lost the plot."

Man 1 "You can't say he can't play because of some … jewellery!"

Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics."

Man 1 "I might write a song about you, you twat."

Man 2 "It'd be the best thing you've ever done."

Man 1 "Behave yourself now. People are looking."

Man 2 "Fuck 'em. Tell us some lyrics."

Man 1 "No."

Guardian All Ears

Creepy Shining twins survey the traffic flora & fauna...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/feb/27/michael-holdens-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)
Three kids-two girls of around five and boy who might have been seven-were sat on the front upstairs seats of a bus. The girls were sitting together and the boy was next to a man with headphones on, who looked too young and disinterested to be their father, and he wasn’t. When their dad did finally tell them to be quiet he did so from the comparative sonic safety of a seat several rows behind them. Those of us sat in between though were subject to full force of his children’s shrill enquiries.
Girl 1 (loudly) “How does hair grow?”
Boy (with complete confidence)“Hair is like magic.”
Girl 1 “How do people grow?”
Boy “People grow at night. If you go to bed early you will grow tall.”
Girl 2 “How do buses grow?”
Boy “Buses are just like buses. They don’t’ grow.”
Girls (in unison, having sensed an opportunity) “How do traffic
lights grow?”
Boy (playing into their hands) “Traffic lights don’t grow.”
Girls (gaining momentum now, and growing sinister-like the twins in
The Shining) “How do taxis grow?”
Boy (banging his head on the seat with each syllable, frustrated with the game which he had partly created) “Taxis-don’t-grow!
Girl 1 “How do people die?”
Girl 2 (straight afterwards) “Why do people have red hair?”
Father (as though having his children unlock two of the great mysteries of existence before a captive audience might be more than the universe could bear.) “That’s enough kids. Shut up now.” •

Guardian All Ears 20th February

Decided to run with the dissonance & 'hieroglyphic exclamations' in the text (with a little added dairy product of course)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/feb/20/all-ears-the-guide


(Article by Michael Holden)
On busy trains conversations rise like dissonant music from all
angles, leaving you to bear befuddled and silent witness to the
results. Departing Manchester recently I was regaled by the almost
hieroglyphic exclamations of a Welsh woman in the seat behind me,
themselves punctuated by outbursts from a businessman and his clearly
long-suffering PA to my left-referred to here for reasons of clarity
as Alan and Lynne.

Woman (on the phone) “Did he tick all the boxes?”

Alan: (jabbing at a chart) “He’s lost focus”

Woman “You’re kidding?”
Alan: “He needs to get focused again”

Woman: “You’re (+I)kidding(-I)!”
Lynne: “Here’s the schedule for next month.”

Woman: “I got rid of all my yoghurts”

Alan: “Salesmen will always benefit from focus.”

Woman “Remember he’s on holidays…the slim guy with the glasses and the
army jacket and the long hair…well he told me he was on holiday…you
said it was super. You couldn’t see? Well that’s gutting that
is…that’ll be your last scan now, unless you pay for another…they’re
coming down are they?”

Lynne (nervously watching Alan read something) “It all adds up.”

Alan (dismissive) “There’s no point doing the math.”

Woman: “You’re breaking up. I’m going to a meeting but I feel so
un-meetinglike.”
Alan: (waving the paper angrily) “I can’t read this, cut to the chase!
Where are the bombs in this agenda, where are the bombs, the IEDs?”

Lynne (stifling a scream but still loudly, while snatching back the
documents) “IT’S JUST A LIST OF IDEAS.”

That shut him up, for a while.

Guardian All Ears 13th February

Spot the references...I couldn't resist the pool playing dogs (which don't show up at all in my copy of the paper - ho hum)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/feb/13/all-ears-the-guide


(Article by Michael Holden)
The world is full of strange cycles. Go into a pub to use the toilet,
buy a pint for the sake of protocol and pretty soon you’re back in the
toilet again. I was in one of these loops when I saw that the pub
itself was fixed in a weird judgemental cycle of its own. Two people
were looking at a laptop and pointing out things they didn’t approve
of on the Internet, themselves watched by two workmen who clearly had
no time for them, while next to me two more men talked disapprovingly
about popular art as I listened disapprovingly to them.

Man 1: “Did you see that documentary on the BBC the other night? It
was about that guy, Kit Williams, he did like photo-realism, it was
very popular in the 80’s –horrible pictures-he made a gold rabbit?”

Man 2 (decisively-and in no way confused by the fact that the
aforementioned artist’s most famous work was actually a hare) “No”

Man 1 (pleading) “You must remember the rabbit? Everyone was looking for it.”
Man 2 “I don’t recall. There was another thing though, something to do
with following letters of the alphabet. If you figured out the
sequence you got twenty grand or something. It wasn’t long ago.”

Man 1 “This was the 80’s. He was on Wogan.”

Man 2 “I don’t know him.”
Man 1 “It was a good documentary. But the thing with that stuff is
it’s all about the craft, ‘oh, it really looks like him.’ As if that’s
the most important thing!”
Man 2 “Like that Jack Vettriano. He knows what people who don’t like
art like. They like story.”
Man 1 (looking blankly afraid, as though suddenly alert to all his own
frustrations) “He makes millions.”
Man 2 (looking the same) “Yeah.”

Guardian All Ears 6th February

Despite all labelling to the contrary I did draw this ...it's better than 'insert artist name here' which I've been referred to by before...someone shoot the sub editor!
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/feb/06/michael-holden-all-ears

(Article by Michael Holden)

Listening to people who seem to have been parachuted into one another's company – yet appear to get along perfectly well – a very modern form of cynicism kicks in, at least for me. Like watching the opening scenes of Big Brother, part of me is always thinking, "This won't last. They will soon hate each other." So it was with two young men sitting at near me in a bar, exchanging stories of themselves for reasons that were never clear.

Man 1 "Your job sounds pretty relaxed."

Man 2 (as though what followed were something to be proud of) "Oh yeah, I watch a lot of stuff on YouTube, keep up with the latest viral ads. Sometimes I help out with a pitch. You're based in the Far East?"

Man 1 "Malaysia."

Man 2 "How's that?"

Man 1 "It's like the opposite of here. It's hot, the food's great …"

Man 2 "So what is it you do?"

Man 1 "Bit of everything. I'm part-training, part-headhunting with a bit of systems shit thrown in. My boss is opening a restaurant; I said I'll have some of that. So I'm a partner there too."

Man 2 (losing interest) "Pretty diverse, then?"

Man 1 "Oh yeah. I rip through the local legal shit, I make things happen. On a project-by-project basis. You need something done, we can take it all the way."

Man 2 "You speak the language?"

Man 1 (rubbing his fingertips together to illustrate his point) "Money talks. But that's not to say you don't have to get your hands dirty, get hands-on. You get off the path and it gets tribal. I've been to weddings barefoot. Drunk blood. Whatever it takes."

Man 2 "So what would you call it then?"

Man 1 "Systems analysis"

Man 2 "Right."

Guardian All Ears 30th January

Coming from a home town where street drinking is somewhat of an ancient tradition I rather warmed to this week's column...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/jan/30/clubs-michael-holden-all-ears

(Article by Michael Holden)
No matter what our circumstances, we are always alert to the notion that someone might be encroaching on them. I was in the library, sharing a table with two men who use the place to keep warm, when they began talking about a group of eastern European men whose attempts to use the facility for similar purposes had begun to cause friction with the indigenous community of no fixed abode.

Man 1 (looking across at the other table) "They're drinking again."

Man 2 (following his gaze but less intently) "Oh, aye."

Man 1 "They're gonna get us all kicked out."

Man 2 "You reckon?"

Man 1 "They don't take care of themselves. I see 'em on the streets; they'll drink till one of them falls over. Then they have to go to hospital. Then the others'll come and visit. You know what happens then?"

Man 2 "What?"

Man 1 "That stuff they have on the wards, the MRSA handwash? They nick that and drink it."

Man 2 "That'll fuck you up."

Man 1 "Cranial bleeding, haemorrhage. That said, it's not too different from your white cider; that's never been near an apple, you know that?"

Man 2 (sensing he was being chastised) "Yeah, I am aware of all that."

Man 1 "So that's the cycle: hospital, handwash, back into hospital again. And who do you think's paying for it?"

Man 2 (smiling) "When did you last pay any taxes?"

Man 1 (ignoring that inquiry and returning to his theme) "They're gonna get us all kicked out if they're not careful."

Guardian All Ears 23rd January

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/jan/23/michael-holdens-all-ears#
(article by Michael Holden)
Struggling for ways to kill time in cold weather, I went to the pictures in the middle of the day, alone. Judging by the composition of the crowd this was a reasonably popular option – there were about a dozen people there, mostly alone, but there was a pair of blokes in front of me who spoke loudly to one another during the time between when the film was advertised to start and when it actually began.

Man 1 (With a mixture of pride and disbelief) "I hadn't been to the supermarket in over a year."

Man 2 (admiringly) "What, she goes? "

Man 1 "Yeah, she goes and I pay for it."

Man 2 "Fair enough."

Man 1 "Yeah, but I felt a bit guilty. I mean, it's not hard. I actually quite like supermarkets, if they're not too busy. So I said I'd go with her, which turned out to be a mistake."

Man 2 "How so?"

Man 1 "Well I went in quite optimistic thinking, here I am, taking part in something – doing my bit and all the rest of it. But it all went sour when I started bringing stuff to the trolley."

Man 2 (anxious) "Like what, what do you mean?"

Man 1 "Oh, it's all the wrong mushrooms and 'get the ones that are on offer'. I like to roam free in these places, but she has a whole system of how you go about it. You start roaming, going off the map and the whole thing breaks down. There's no scope for innovation. It's a proper regime."

Man 2 "So what happened?"

Man 1 "Well I shut up, didn't I?"

Man 2 "You going back?"

Man 1 "No, we had it right the first time. You're better off alone."

Guardian All Ears 16th January

Wondering if there's a phrase for 'middle class fear of builders'? - thought I'd just stoke up the prejudice a little bit more for good measure...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/jan/16/all-ears-the-guide

(Article by Michael Holden)

As a perennial drinker I notice people who come only into the pub in
cold weather. They look around as though the dynamics of buying booze
might have changed since they last endorsed such a venue, relax when
everything appears to be the same, and then pull justifiably shocked
faces when confronted with the price. In groups, they talk about the
weather, wondering out loud if we talk about it too much.
Occasionally, a dialogue breaks out from the droning as it did with
two men who sat as close as possible to the fire, which, despite its
glow, gives out no warmth.

Man 1 I’ve still no windows

Man 2 So what have you got?

Man 1 Just boards.

Man 2 How’s that then?

Man 1 Cold.

Man 2 But you live there ok?

Man 1 I stay in the attic

Man 2 How are the builders?

Man 1 Unbelievably thick. It reminded me why I gave up doing all that
for a living. You tell ‘em they’re doing something wrong and they just
sort of tilt their head to one side and look at you. Like when you’ve
told off a dog.

Man 1 That must drive you mad.

Man 2 I don’t let it mostly. I hide up in the attic, then come
downstairs and have a go at them.

Man 1 Like a cross between Anne Frank and Basil Fawltey!

Man 2 It’s no joke.

Man 1. No. I guess not.

Guardian All Ears 9th January

When I sent this in to the newspaper I'd accidentally added an extra asterisk to the word 'wanker' sprayed on the car, which was noticed and duly corrected - rather ironic for the Grauniad I thought...

world's going down the pan if vandals can't spell & punctuate if you ask me!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/jan/09/all-ears-michael-holden-the-guide

(Article by Michael Holden)
I was on a train, sat in front of a group of men who spent most of the
journey talking about cars. As this is a subject about which I know
little I didn’t pay too much attention but I couldn’t help but tune in
when one of them made an unusual comparison.

Man 1 (dismayed) “The whole car smelled like trees.”

Man 2 (sombre-as though he had suffered the same nightmare at some
point) “Really…”
Man 1 “Aye, someone had smashed the rear window and the damp had
gotten in. It smelled like my Audi.”
Man 2 “The one you got off your cousin?”

Man 1 (with bitterness) “Yeah, that one.”

Man 2 “How is he?”
Man 1 “Doing well for him self. You have to watch him with money
though. That Audi wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And he’s pulled
some sort of stunt with his mortgage, God knows how, but he’s ended up
with a four-bedroom place.”
Man 2 “Whereabouts?”
Man 1 “Just around the corner from where he was. It’s still dodgy
though. For all his rooms he’s no garage. Someone had the wheels off
his car, they had the radio.”
Man 2 “What did he do?”
Man 1 “Set it on fire for the insurance. He’s got the new one now.”

Man 2 “What’s it like?”
Pretty smart, but it’s got to him though, the money. I went round to
look at the car and when I got to the house he asked me to take my
shoes off.”
Silence followed, heavy with judgment, as though such protocols were
sub human, and best not dignified with more discussion.

Guardian All Ears 2nd January

Back on it after a brief hiatus over Christmas (while the Guide wrote lists & the words 'David Tennant' an awful lot of times)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/series/michaelholdensallears

(article by Michael Holden)

I've written before about the Chinese takeaway that has its own microclimate. Suffice to say that at this time of year things are so cold there that to see two other people inside, smiling – and showing no visible signs of hypothermia – seemed reassuring. Perhaps they've finally warmed the place up, I thought, as I opened the door. But as the familiar blend of sub-zero air and the sound and scent of boiling oil embraced me I could see the other customers: a couple in their 60s were drunk and in a warm relationship and couldn't care less about the weather.

Woman (holding man for support) "Where's the food?"

Man (looking down at her affectionately) "Won't be long."

Woman "What we ordered?"

Man "Plenty of everything."

Woman "Are we having prawns?"

Man "No."

Woman (distraught) "Why!"

Man "You never asked for none."

Woman (lurching toward the counter) "I gotta get some!"

Man (firmly but not angrily) "You'll slow everything down!"

Woman (to the owner) "Give us some of them prawns."

Owner "What prawns?"

Woman "Where's the menu?"

Man (sensing the futility of this) "Just give us some chilli salt prawns, would you?"

Woman "That's them!"

Owner "Your food is ready."

Man "Yeah well, we'll wait for the prawns." The woman looked at him as though he was heading into the sea to catch them himself, and he looked back as though he would gladly undertake such an errand, should she require it.

Guardian All Ears 5th December

(Article by Michael Holden)
I could see the man at the next table was having a hard time from the way he held his drinks-for dear life, it seemed. He stared into the middle distance with an air of furious sorrow and swallowed beer in great mouthfuls, around a third of a pint each time. At the end of his second something like relief came to his face and then he was joined by a friend who bought another drink to his table.

Man 1 (upbeat) “How are we.”

Man 2 (morose) “In fucking bits.”

Man 1 “You haven't slept at all?”

He shook his head

Man 1 “I don't know how you get away with it.”

Man 2 “I don't though, do I? That's why I'm in here.”
Man1 “It could be worse.”

Man 2 “How? How feasibly could it be worse?”

Man 1 “Look, if I’d known you were gonna do the whole self pity thing I wouldn’t have come.”
Man 2 “No, I’m sorry. I do appreciate it. Or I will do when I get myself together.”

Man 1 “Well be sure and give me a ring when that happens.”
Man 2 (finishing his pint) “I’m feeling better already.”

Man 1 “Good, well, one step at a time eh?”

Man 2 “Yeah.”

Then he got up and walked to the toilet and was sick so loudly you could hear him through the door and over the jukebox, which was playing Christmas tunes.

Guardian All Ears 31st October

I love the comic poignancy of those collars they make cats & dogs wear, one shouldn't laugh but...
Also a little Harry Potter reference (for Halloween) - no, I've never read, watched, eaten any of the wretched franchise so have no reason beyond pure unreasoning prejudice to dislike it (hmm shades of a certain Mr Griffin there ugh!)

(Article by Michael Holden)
I was in the collective reception are where several new age businesses collide when I noticed the woman sat opposite me was sporting inordinately powerful biceps, in the Madonna style. She kept looking sideways at them and flexing subtly, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she’d achieved. She had her son with her who must have been about 14 and had his head in a book.

Woman: (without taking her eyes of her arms) “You should start to think about which books you’ll take in holiday.”

Boy: (without looking up) “Yeah.”

Woman: “You’ll need to be quite selective. Remember you’ll have to carry them.”

Boy: (After thinking for a moment) “I think I’ll take The Guinness Book Of Records.”

Woman: (outraged by this apparent lack of practicality) “I don’t think you will! Why would you take that? Why don’t you take those Horrible Histories books? Danny loved them. He read them all twice.”

Boy: (like his time was money) “I don’t read anything twice. What will happen to the cat?”

Woman: “She’ll be fine. She can’t go outside anyway. The vet said.”

The boy looked deeper into his book and his mother retaliated by picking up a paper from which she began to read out loud.

Woman: “Fantastic Mr Fox. Six thirty.”

Boy “I want to see ‘Up.’”

Woman “Well that’s two things we can do at half term.”

Boy: (still reading) “It’s in 3D”

Woman: (determined) “I’m really looking forward to the holiday.”

Boy: (deadpan, still reading) “Yes.”

Guardian All Ears 24th October

Funnily enough I have an unread copy of Plato's Republic sitting on my shelves but my burgeoning lapdancing career seriously impinges on my reading time...


(Article by Michael Holden)
The ethics of professional nudity are one of the great default arguments that daytime television, talk radio, columnists and occasionally frontline politics will elect to shine their dubious lights upon when there’s nothing else to talk about. It came as no big surprise then to find myself adjacent to two drinkers discussing the art of what Tina Turner called “Private Dancing,” albeit from a somewhat subjective point of view.

Man 1 “She made eight hundred quid in her first week.”

Man 2 “Christ, so that’s her now then. No going back…how she’s getting on?”

Man 1 “Well she does get on with things-I admire that about her. She says the blokes are just-well you can imagine…”

Man 2 “What?”

Man 1 “Well, you know. They’ll show her a picture of a Ferrari on their iPhone and say, ‘That’s my car, I can take you away from all this, you’re too good for it.’ But, there they are…”

Man 2 “What does she say to all that?”

Man 1 “You have to play up to it. They told her, you can’t crack on that you’re clever. You have to act the part. You can read books if it’s quiet but you have to wrap up them up inside a copy of Heat or something.”

Man 2 “Yeah, I can see that.”

Man 1 “She had one lot of blokes come in that she said were alright. They said it was the first time they’d been and she told them it was her first night-which was true. They said they’d give her all the money she had, which was plenty, if, when she got on the stage, half way through the routine she started doing robotics.”

Man 2 (laughing) “Did she do it?”

Man 1 (laughing too) “No, she bottled it.”

Man 2 “I’d pay good money to see that.”

Man 1 “I’ll let her know.”

Guardian All Ears 3rd October

You just KNOW the guy's going to smell of Country Born hair gel, Hard Rock hair spray & Lynx! Sorry, but the mid '80s were RUBBISH...you can stuff your rosy tinted revisionism & your crappy Big Country albums where the sun don't shine...

(Article by Michael Holden)

I was hiding my face in a newspaper on a train when I heard a woman’s voice say, “I remember when you were conceived.” I looked up to see who was poised to deliver this revelation and saw a woman sat opposite her daughter who it transpired was around 25 years old.
Mother (visualizing) “ It was bloody freezing. Me and your dad had been to the cinema. He had to walk me home.”
Daughter (visualizing also-but presumably with some caution) “What film did you see?”
Mother (making claw shapes with her hand)“Oh God. That thing when his hands are like knives …”
The daughter shook her head.
Mother (annoyed with herself) “The Freddy thing…you know…”
She didn’t.
Mother (like she’d won a quiz) “Nightmare on Elm Street!”
Daughter “Never seen it.”
Mother “I hated it. Scared me. That’s why he had to take me home. Not ‘cos of the weather. I was jumpy.”
Daughter (smiling) “With good reason”
Mother (like 1984 was another era entirely) “That was why you went to the cinema back then.”
Daughter (laughing, incredulous) “To get pregnant?”
Mother “You know what I mean. We didn’t go as much when you was born. I know that.”
Daughter “Do you remember much about it?”
Mother “What do you mean?”
Daughter “Like, what you were wearing?”
Mother “I had a big coat.”
Daughter “What about dad?”
Mother “Well he would have had a coat as well.”
Daughter “That’s all you remember?”
Mother “The bloke in the film, he’s got a red and black jumper..”
Daughter (looking anxious to wrap things up) “Thanks for that.”