Guardian All Ears 28th November

During the drawing of this picture my computer crashed forcing me to have to draw those creepy twins from the X Factor twice - I can categorically state that I have never watched the wretched thing - horrible easy listening mush for all the family - but you can't escape seeing them everywhere - rant! rant! rant!

(Article by Michael Holden)
Years of satanic number crunching at my local train company appear to have finally yielded a system that enables them to deploy the absolute minimum of carriages no matter what time of day it is. So, off-peak travel – once one of the great perks of self employment – is now just a grotesque and scaled-down, Fisher-Price rush hour. The torment of others, which might ordinarily have been confined to an avoidable area, now closes in from every side.

Woman 1 (to my right, "waking up" having feigned sleep to stop people trying to sit next to her) "Give us that mag."

Woman 2 (opposite her, defending her own space with a bottle of partially drunk cola and a crescent of low-rent magazines, one of which she passed over) "That had me laughing out loud."

Woman 3 (directly opposite-reading from a paper to a husband who made faces but never replied) "That zero-carbon housing development is going ahead."

Man 1 (behind me - talking into his phone) "Theo! Theo! It's Mark. I've been in Sweden … and Hamburg … I'm on the train … I think the problem is with the gearboxes … yeah, it's a bad signal …"

Woman 2 "Did I tell you what happened at work? I only had the key for the top lock, and I asked her for the key to the bottom lock and she give me a load of grief."

Woman 1 (ignoring her, staring at her mobile) "I can't do that predictive text."

Man 1 "Theo … Theo can you hear me? Theo? Can you hear me?"

I put on some music before any of these crucial issues were resolved.

Guardian All Ears 21st November

I've always wanted to include Pocari Sweat* in an illustration (* Japanese isotonic drink with amusing name) - figured a bottle of Metaxa for the Greek reference might be slightly over-egging things perhaps...

(article by Michael Holden)
You might think there are places you can eat in the world where the couple on the next table won’t turn out to be English. And you might think a Japanese restaurant, in Athens might be among them. And you’d be wrong. The man looked like he could have been in Right Said Fred, the woman looked like Naomi Campbell disguised as Casey Jones.

Woman (looking at the man as he sat down): “You look bigger in your photographs.”

Man: (not joking) “Yes. I am bigger.”

Woman (sitting) “Busy day?”

Man “Not really. Lots have people have to wear a suit to work but not me, not today. I was going to wear a tie, but my big meeting got changed till Monday morning.

Woman (looking dubiously at the menu, and then around the restaurant) “I'm not really sure about the meat…”

Man “They have chicken…you know what chicken is?”

Woman “Yes I like chicken. Maybe I can try salmon?”

Man “Have what you like. Eat what you feel…”

Woman “I have to go to the toilet, will you order for me?”

Man “Sure.”

Woman (back-after less than a minute) “It’s busy. I don't like waiting in toilets. You never know what germs are there. I'd rather wait in here.”

Eventually some food arrived.

Man “You’ve seen chopsticks before?”

Woman “Yes, once. In Leeds.”

Man (demonstrating) “These will be the same. You can do it the Japanese way or the Chinese way…”

Woman (regarding the tempura he was holding-which to be fair-did look quite phallic) “What’s that about then?”

They burst out laughing. Then she opened her mouth and he steered the crooked lump of batter between her lips while I prayed for the bill.

Guardian All Ears 14th November

For me medical waiting rooms always beg a kid with a chamber pot stuck on it's head but I had to resist the temptation this week...might just go & draw a random one now!

(article by Micheal Holden)
I was stuck on a plane for an hour recently while the airport authorities searched for a bus to take us to the terminal. As codas to already unpleasant journeys go, it sucked. I did however get to find out all about my fellow traveller’s toenail.

Man 1 “I literally hobbled in there. You could see it was the foot place-there were a lot of people in sandals. Lot’s of toes in big white cocoons of bandages-the sort of thing you might see a silk moth fly out of.”

Man 2 “Like a sort of Carry On bandage?”

Man 1 “Exactly. So they ask me what’s up and I tell them it’s an ingrown toenail. I can’t walk, and in the end it’s got so bad I can hardly sleep. So they sit me down in this massive queue.

Man 2 (eager for details of institutional inefficiency) “And how long did that take?”

Man 1 “Maybe half an hour.”

Man 2 (disappointed) “Oh.”

Man 1 “In the end this bloke turns up-quite serious looking, like a sort of gangster almost, He takes a look and says, ‘that is bad, mate.’ He says, ‘we’ll operate on Tuesday. We’ll take that bit off, we’ll destroy the root with chemicals and it’ll never grow again.”

Man 2 “Pretty brutal.”

Man 1 “ Apparently it’s that or a vicious circle of antibiotics. Anyway I’ve asked him if there’s anything they can do now and he sort of looked about to see if anyone was looking. Asked me if I was squeamish-I said no. Made me promise not to kick him-I said fine. And he just dug half the nail out with a scalpel there and then. I felt like screaming but I tell you what I walked out of there better than I walked in!”

Man 2 “And you still had the operation?”

Man 1 “Yeah, but they seemed a bit put out that the other guy had sorted me out first. One doctor said, ‘we don’t do that field hospital stuff here anymore-did he put a bit of wood in your mouth?’ I said, ‘No, but it was a bit Medieval.’ And then the other doctor says, ‘Well, he is West Ham.’ I said I don’t care who he is, it worked.”

Guardian All Ears 7th November

(Thought I'd put the original rough up because I'm not so happy with the colours on this one)

(Article by Michael Holden)
Outside a café I sat near a set of identical twins, women in their mid sixties, dressed alike and gearing themselves up for a duet of synchronized complaining that, had it been a piece of music, might have been eligible for some sort of prize.
Twin 1 (surveying the mild autumn sky) “This is my kind of weather…”
Twin 2 (staring moodily at the waiting staff) “What’s wrong with these people?”
Twin 1 “Did you ask for more jam?”
Twin 2 “Yes but she didn’t understand me.”
I looked at their table. They were eating scones and had what seemed to me to be an adequate amount of jam to be going on with.
Twin 1 (stopping a waitress) “We need more jam!”
The waitress smiled and walked inside.
Twin 2 “She won’t speak English. It’s the same in Waitrose.”
Another waitress appeared and gave them more jam.
Twin 1 (looking angrily at the tiny jars) “These have the lids on!”
Twin 2 “The others had the lids off!”
Twin 1 “It’s the inconsistency…”
She stopped a waitress and held out a jar.
Twin 2 “Can you open this?”
Twin 1 “It’s no good. They can’t understand you.”
The waitress took the jam and opened it.
Twin 2 “This is different jam altogether.”
Twin 1 “It’s the wrong jam!”
They now had no scones and a surplus of jam. A problem they surmounted by spooning it directly into the mouths while looking beadily about for trouble, like human wasps.

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 17th October

Gratuitous use of cock imagery ahoy!

I’d like to stop smoking but since the ban, the eavesdropping opportunities it creates are just to good to give up. Cast out into the air cold air it as though the bonds of addiction allow us to speak outside the conventions of the world indoors. Why else would a group of men taking part in some kind of reunion dinner furnish me with the details of their friend’s cardiac-genital humiliation as we stood together outside a restaurant? It’s not like I ask people to tell me this stuff. It just happens.

Man 1 “I’m surprised Alan’s not here.”

Man 2 “You know he had a heart attack?”

Man 3 (as though this were worse) “He lives in France”

Man 4(sensing he might be the only one in possession of the full facts-and determined to capitalise) “Well he (+I)did(-I) live in France, until he had the heart attack…”

Man 1 “What happened then?”

Man 3 (not to be outdone) “They had to airlift him out-in a helicopter.”

Man 2 “Jesus-I never knew that.”

Man 1 “Wow. I wonder how felt?”

Man 4 (reclaiming the high ground) “He said the worst thing was when he was lying on the stretcher and the helicopter came down and blew all the blankets off him-so he was naked…”

Man 3 “He’s lucky he wasn’t in England, someone would have filmed you over here. You’d have been on Youtube, or that Michael Buerke programme. Half dead in the down draft, naked, with your penis pixelated out…”

Man 1 “I thought he lived in Belgium?”

Man 4 “Don’t be daft.”

Guardian All Ears 10th October

...with a little nod to my favourite estate agents this week ...grrr!


(Article by Michael Holden)
It’s a sign of the times but twice in a month I’ve ended up within earshot of a man berating a woman over the phone about selling a house. While the first tirade took place in a public toilet, this one went down in the lobby of an expensive hotel. The man was small, sitting on sofa much larger than he was and spoke with a New York accent.
Man “This guy’s a doctor right? But this is phony. This is a fraudulent transaction, and there’s nothing you can do about it?
He listened to the response and pulled faces of exasperation
Man “You got all your linens in there! How you gonna show the house? You need to put all the linens into the basement…I’ll move my desk down there, I’ll see if I can get someone to help me…that desk is very, very heavy-and that’s the least of our problems… We’re not gonna move the chandelier back to your house, that’s idiotic!
Then something got said that sent him up a gear.
Man “ What? I wouldn’t count it! I would get the house on the market and market it aggressively. How aggressively? Very aggressively, go for four twenty and put a note on there saying only pre-approved buyers, people with normal mortgages or nothing, if someone comes in with cash, take less…Screw these people!”
He chewed a pen and tried to take in her response but it was all too much.
Man “Don’t use Jeremy anymore! He’s incompetent, and these morons, these idiots over there, tell ‘em they couldn’t run a convenience store…Tell them! Open up your mouth or I’ll come down and tell them. The whole thing is idiotic! Oh Jesus Christ, they’re fucking novices. You spent all this money, for what?”
He gave a giant sigh and applied himself to less vexing matters
Man “Dress very warm, it’s raining and it’s cold out…just get me a chicken sandwich, something like that.”

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.”

Guardian - All Ears 26th September

Exploring the art of rodent contraception this week...


(Article by Michael Holden)
I was having dinner in my local Chinese when a couple sat down. They seemed cheerful but uncommonly convivial and eager to please. I pinned them as a first date till the man said, “you’ve seen the floorboards in my bedroom?” and the woman clearly had. Oh well.
Man “There are big spaces between them. I think this is where the mice get in. Sometimes I’m lying there at night and I can hear, like, mouse sounds, getting louder. And then they stop and I think, well perhaps they’ve gone. But then it starts again.”
Woman “Don’t put your heating on. They’ll go next door, where it’s warmer. They don’t care.”
Man (reassessing his fellow diner in light of this new nonsense) “Actually, they are quite selective about…”
Woman (not listening) “I put down traps. ‘The Little Nipper,’ one was called. It breaks their spines.”
Man : “I find all that a bit…”
Woman: “ In the end it’s less mice and rats on the planet and that’s what it’s all about. That’s the objective.”
Man (losing it somewhat) “It’s not though, is it? Mice are highly organized. They’re just seeking food and shelter. If you were a farmer-storing grain then you might have a point. Anyway, you’ve got a cat, that’s why cats are domesticated. We fed them to kill mice. So without the mouse there is no cat. Rodents are real survivors, we should admire them. Spontaneous ovulation, short gestation, large litters. We can’t manage any of that.”
She looked at him with clear contempt now. In a world where opinion is valued over knowledge he had just talked himself and his seed out of the evolutionary process, at least with this woman. She wouldn’t be looking at the hole in his floorboards again, that much was clear.

Guardian All Ears 19th September

Possibly the fastest All Ears I've ever done - completed in record time while desperately attempting to make the 14.30 to Portsmouth Harbour en route to the Isle of Wight - talk about skin of the teeth - you can almost seee the sweat!

(article by Michael Holden)
Not for the first time I was stuck in a queue marvelling at how the preparation of a mild stimulant-coffee-takes far more time than one could possibly hope to save through the sensation it eventually delivers. If you’re not even buying coffee and you’re stuck behind people who are then a further irony is that the frustration you feel is like taking some some kind of cheap hit in its own right. The women in front of me, one of whom was pregnant-the other with a child of about 4,-were hesitating over what type of coffee they might eventually buy when the little girl interrupted them
Girl “Can I have an orange juice?”
Mother “No, because they’re very expensive here. You can only get the big ones.”
Girl “Oh.”
Woman (finally deciding) “I’d like a decaff latte please. I’ll get her an orange juice.”
Mother “Oh no.”
Woman “I don’t mind.”
Mother “Really?”
Woman “Yes, unless she’s not allowed.”
Mother “No, it’s fine.”
Woman “What are you having?”
Mother “Latte. But I’ll pay for that seperately”
Woman (seizing a snack) “I might have one of these.”
Mother (prenatally alarmed) “You’re eating peanuts?”
Woman “I read some new research. It says they’re ok.”
Mother (offering change) “Let me get the orange juice…”
Woman “No. Because then that wouldn’t be a present from me, and want it to be a present.”
And so it went on, as they tied themselves ever deeper into an aimless knot of protocol, wound at my expense.

All Ears 12th September

(Article by Michael Holden)

Some conversations are not so much overheard as inflicted. I was in the countryside dependent a infrequent bus service that arrives so seldom, takes so long to get anywhere and consists of a bus so small that not conversing with your fellow travellers is not an option. It would be like trying to ignore a fellow astronaut. And in the case of the only other passenger on my journey-an elderly astronaut with some strong opinons about the local opticians.
Man “Been into town?”
Me “Not this time.”
Man (undeterred) “Been at the opticians..”
Me “Oh?”
Man “My wife’s in China. All I have to do is send her the prescription and she’ll get the specs made up there. I make it very clear I only want the test and they take me for an idiot!”
I made a face that said ‘opticians-bastards-what can you do?’ and he continued.
Man “I turn up on time and they keep me waiting for twenty minutes. I have an appointment of course but that means nothing to them. They do as they please. I won’t accept that. Eventually I summon the manager and I say you hav wasted my time-now I shall waste yours!”
Me (genuinely curious as to how such an approach might play out in the high st) “How did that go down?”
Man “Like the preverbial -but what could they do? I am the customer. They offered me ten pounds off. Big deal! My time is my own. They cannot squander it. I will take their time. This is the onyl way to respond!”
I retreated to a nod. He carried on.
Man “Seen the paper today?”
Me “No.”
Man (admiringly) “The mayor of Doncaster-he’s a real maverick. But don’t get me started on Gordon Brown.”
I wasn’t about to. I looked outside and it had stated to rain.

All Ears 7th September

More scary madmen, some drug paraphernalia & a guest muppet! - am realising I may have to ration 'mobile phone action' in these pictures in future as it's cropping up very regularly although it means I'll probably be able to draw one in my sleep now - (a very useful talent you haters!) : )

(article by Michael Holden)
I was about to exit a cubicle in the toilets of a large public building when I heard a man come into the bathroom and start speaking into his mobile. He must have thought he was alone since what had started as a whisper soon rose to yell that bounced of the tiling as he stammered with long-feremented rage over the issue of a posted letter-while I took detailed and clandestine notes and wondered what he looked like.
Man: (hissing-as though he had been stepped on) “Yessss! I posted them the, ‘welcome to your new home card’... Two hours ago. Yes, yes and that’s the reason you’re phoning is it? To see if I’d done that?”
There was a pasue while he absorbed more of whatever was coming over the phone, until he could take no more.
Man (shouting) “This is part of the reason I’m so irritable! The whole context of why I’m irritable is that I understand that there are lots of things to do...Now one of those things, I agree is sending them a ‘welcome to your new home card’... but there are a lot more things, more important things...
He listened again and paced around the room before responding.
Man “ We should have drawn up a checklist of things that need to be done! That’s why I’m so angry about all this-rubbish -about a card! If there’s one thing I’m aware of... is..is because there’s lot’s of things on the agenda ...”
Man (more placatory) “I understand that you’re not as young as you used to be but there are lots of things to remember.... Right, right...Yes!”
There was a long pause, and then he really went for it.
Man “Well I’m, I’m furious and I’m furious about this because there are lots and lots of other things to think about. It’s high time to sort things out-given the change of circumstances...It should be decluttered, It is important now . I’m moving now. I know there’s an echo! I’m leaving the bathroom!”
And he did.

All Ears 29th August

(Article by Michael Holden)

Hotel bars are strange places-venues for people who should never have met. That said, the two men I found myself seated next to at a long bar in a place that raked back in alcohol prices what it saved you on a room, seemed well acquainted.

Man 1 (concerned) “You like running though?”

Man 2 (sadly, as though bereaved) “I love it’s just it’s…got a bit out of hand.”

Man 1 “You’ve injured yourself?”

Man 2 (confessional) No. I just think I’m taking it too seriously. I entered a race a few weeks ago, a 6K thing, for charity. I won.”

Man 1 “So?”

Man 2 “Well-it was like a fun run-but I sort of misread it, and went full tilt. I was out on my own from the beginning. Soon I was so far ahead I was passing stewards who were setting stuff up. And I started to have a go at them, saying they should get their act together.”

Man 1 “What, and you stop running to do this?”

Man 2 “No. Just look back and shout really.”

Man 1 “Right.”

Man 2 “I’m not proud of it. I can see now that I’d gone mental.”

Man 1 “Well that’s the main thing.”

Man 2 “I crossed the line and there was no one there, I felt very strange”

Man 1 “I imagine death to be like that.”

Man 2 “And there was a steel band playing the theme from Blake’s Seven.”

Man 1 “Jesus.”

Man 2 “Then a photographer from the local paper and asked me if I’d cross the line again so he could get a picture.”

Man 1 “What did you do?”

Man 2 “Well I refused.”

All Ears 22nd August

This week's pic involves Metallica allusions & one of the most terrible puns known to humanity but the temptation was...too strong! Many apologies

(Article by Michael Holden)
It’s all very well, the warm weather, but the same streets which people ordinarily walk down briskly are now thick with folk indulging in the pleasures of the season-and for the second week running in this column-that means food. This time I was after a sausage sandwich but noticed that the woman ahead of me was queuing to the extreme left of the stall. I stood behind her until a man walked up and commented on the odd arrangement.

Man “Is this the queue?”

Me “Yeah, but I don’t know why it’s here…”

Woman (tense, defensive) “I’m queuing here, because I don’t want to get smoke IN MY FACE!”

One of the cooks handed her a sandwich and she walked off, face intact. The chefs then started talking amongst themselves about the song that was fading out on the radio.

Cook 1 (Eastern European accent) “What do you make of that. Pretty rocky eh?”

Cook 2 “Nah…”

Cook 1 “You like Metallica?”

Cook 2 “Nah.”

Cook 1 (undeterred) “They make an album with an orchestra.”

Cook 2 (smug, sarcastic) “Wow.”

Cook 1 “The full orchestra.”

Cook 2 “Yeah?”

Cook 1 “It is fantastic. The album with the orchestra is the same album they make themselves before without orchestra. It is so good, sometimes you cannot tell which album you are listening to.”

Cook 2 “Yeah?”

Cook 1 (the futility of his enthusiasm beginning to dawn) “You like Metallica?”

Cook 2 “No.”

Cook 1 “Still, you should listen to the album.”

Cook 2 “Nah.”

Guardian All Ears 15th August

(Article by Michael Holden)
Near where I work the pattern of lunchtime activity has been affected by the arrival of a van a couple of weeks ago that sells Burritos. Everyone has gone nuts for this and the queue snakes halfway down the road. Ordinarily I would be reluctant to take part in such a phenomenon, but the food’s too good. I was in line the other day when a woman from further behind came up and started talking to the woman in front of me as though I wasn’t there. I held out my phone quite conspicuously between them and recorded what they were saying. They didn’t notice. They had better things to think about.

Woman 1 “Nice Day!”

Woman 2 “Yeah.”

Woman 1 “Big queue. I’m really, really, really hungry”

Woman 2 “ But they are quick.”

Woman 1 “Still on for tonight?”

Woman 2 “Where is it?”

Woman 1 “You know the roundabout? I’m on the other side of the roundabout. Call me when you get there.”

Woman 2 “The roundabout?”

Woman 1 “It’s not that far down. Literally go past the roundabout, straight down the road and that’s my building.”

Woman 2 “What time?”

Woman 1 “Sevenish?”

Woman 2 “Are you going to text Kate?”

Woman 1 “I’ll email her.”

Woman 2 “And then email me.”

Woman 1 “I’ll email you.”

Woman 2 “How are we gonna get there, walk?”

Woman 1 “We could get a cab, between us.”

Woman 2 (turning to the grill, distracted by the scent) “I can’t decide what to have.”

Woman 1 “I’ll leave you to it. Here’s me gabbing on about tonight and your just like-Burrito…”

Woman 2 (like Homer Simpson) “Burrito…”

Woman 1 (slightly disgusted) “See you at seven then.”

Guardian All Ears 8th August

Couldn't resist the 'We Will Rock You' bus because of recently being obliged to walk past the hideous gold Freddy Mercury statue on Tottenham Court road & thinking that I'd rather have my teeth pulled or get gang raped by badgers rather that sit through that dross...*shudder*

(Article by Michael Holden)
Some people become so disposed to talk about themselves that even when they are discussing something else, what they’re really saying is about them. The mobile phone though has elevated self-referential drivel to a higher plane. Nowadays you hear people giving blow by blow commentary on the stupefying minutiae of their existence while-and this is the truly staggering part-someone on the other end of the phone pays attention. I was at a bus stop with a crowd of people the other day when a teenage girl started yelling into her phone while endeavouring to stare down the rest of the queue by sporting a look of complete hostility that suggested looking back at her might be a fatal mistake.

Girl “It’s the same argument. I go into the room and say something and she says something to me and then I walk out and then she calls after me and then I go back in there and tell her what I think and then she tells me to fuck off.”

She circled the bus stop like a foul-mouthed, polyester planet and when she passed me again she had moved on to the subject of exactly what was happening to her.

Girl “I’m at the bus stop. Waiting for the bus. I can feel the air on my face, the wind like, I don’t mind it. It ain’t too hot. I can’t see the bus. Oh God, I’m just waiting for the bus now, how long can it take for the bus to come? ”

She made another orbit and, as she returned, succeeded finally in catching someone’s eye.

Girl “Oh my God there’s a man looking at me, he’s fucking looking at me!”

This led to other people looking at her, a fact she effortlessly absorbed into her self-obsessed yodelling.

Girl “Now they’re all looking at me! What the fuck is wrong with people? Where’s the bus. The bus is coming! I’m gonna get on it. The bus is coming now!”

It came and she went upstairs. I stayed on the lower deck and felt old.

All Ears 1st August

I kind of wish there was a magazine called 'Ooh Err!'...our newsagent seems to specialize in 'delights' like '50 Plus' etc. shudder!

(article by Michael Holden)

Over the years I’ve noticed that if people outnumber you
sufficiently in a lift they’ll carry on talking as though you
weren’t there, regardless of what they’re talking about. In fact,
though this could be entirely my imagination, the more discomfiting
the subject to an outsider-the more lift talkers appear to enjoy
inflicting it upon them. It was a thesis that proved itself again as
I ascended slowly through the levels of a public building with three
men who weren’t about to stop talking about pornography just because
they’d got in an elevator.

Man 1 “Why would you have magazines though?”

Man 2 “Do you not have the Internet?”
Man 3 “It’s not that. I’ve had ‘em for years. I can’t get rid of
them. It’s a worry with Debbie coming over. We’re getting quite
friendly. She stays over a lot.”
Man 1 “Where are they?”
Man “I think they’re under the bed.”
Man 2 “What do you mean you “think.” You’re 40 years old and you’re
telling me you don’t know what’s under your bed?”
Man 3 “They could be there. They are there.”
Man 2 “Just sling ‘em out.”
Man 3 “I can’t. I try, but then I look at them, and then that’s it.
I’m involved.”
Man 1 “You wanna get a grip of yourself”
Man 2 “That’s the problem.”
Man 1 “Get a welder’s mask-something like that-so you can get hold
of ‘em without getting a proper look.”
I got out here-it was my floor. The men were all laughing, and
rightly so. As I walked away I heard the confessor make a final
admission.
Man 3 “I don’t think there’s anything I can do. They’re just, too
powerful.”

All Ears 25th July

Faintly uninspiring colour scheme this week - sorry!
(BTW for further ruminations on rural unpleasantness check out the genius 'Hard Life in the Country' by the Fall - wonderful stuff!)

(Article by Michael Holden)
Spend most of your life in the city it’s easy to drum up the notion that out there in the countryside everyone’s more laid back. Go there though, and the truth reveals itself soon enough. People in the country are as demented as anyone else, it’s just that you have to go there to find them. The problem is species wide. Our malice knows no postcodes, I thought, as I watched people unravel in the reception Portakabin of a campsite in the middle of nowhere.

Site Manager (addressing three women) “You ain’t staying here. You’re a group.”

Woman 1(the eldest) “We ain’t a group. We’re a family.”

Woman 2 “She’s my auntie.”

Woman 1 “We just want to put her tent next to ours.”

Site Manager (enjoying himself) “Then you’re a group.”

Woman 1 “She’s got a baby-get the baby!”

Woman 2 motioned to a young man who had been loitering in the car park who then entered the office holding up a baby.

Woman 1 “See!”

Site Manager “I says you’re a group, and we can’t have no groups. Baby or no, that’s the end of it.”

Woman 1 “You’re out of order!”

Site Manager “Yeah, well listen to this. They ain’t staying here, and you can pack up and leave and all.”

Woman 1 “You can’t do that!”

Site Manager “Get out of the office, get off the site.”

Woman 1 “I ain’t standing for this.”

She marched out past me yelling at the other as they walked.

Woman 1 “Get Alan on the phone and call Dean. Get ‘em the fuck down here!”

I thought it best to leave before Alan and Dean turned up and kicked the life out what was left my esteem for humanity.

Guardian All Ears 19th July

(Article by Michael Holden)
I was early for an appointment on what felt like a busy morning and so I ducked into a pub. A pub that, was selling beer for less than two pounds a pint and had thus become a haven for those more thirsty than employed, in this case two old chaps who were asking the barman what plans he had to avoid spending the rest of his life where they had elected to spend theirs.

Barman “I’m going to Paraguay.”

Man 1 “Paraguay?”

Barman “There’s no beaches or anything. It’s landlocked.”

Man 1 “Jesus.”

Man 2 “Are you coming back?”

Barman “Maybe.”

Man 2 “You’ve to finish your studies?”

Barman “Yeah.”

Man 2 “Good lad.”

The barman walked away, doubtless thrilled with his commendation and the two men talked amongst themselves.

Man 1 “You know I’m on the disability now? Sixty pound a week.”

Man 2 “Is it your feet?”

Man 1 “Aye. They’ve turned against me.”

Man 2 “I woke up with one shoe on and one shoe off the other day. I might give up drinking.”

Man 1 “You’d be missed.”

Man 2 “How?”

Man 1 “Well, you’re the town drunk.”

Man 2 “Am I?”

Man 1 “Yeah. Like Lee Marvin, in that film.”

Man 2 “What film?”

Man 1 “The one where he’s fucking drunk!”