A Case Of Acute Apprenticitus

The International hit show 'Be Alan's Apprentice' has rubbed off on me (as the Alan said to the Bishop). Flirting with a £60 necklace in 'Oxford Necklaceland' I asked for some assistance from the friendliest looking necklace assistant available.

'Excuse me, how much is this necklace?' The price was attached and in full view.
'£60 for that one Sir.'
'Could you do it for 50?'
'Sorry, we can't do discounts.'
'What if I said I was in "Be Alan's Apprentice", there's a camera crew outside and if you give me a discount I can get you on the telly. Close ups and everything.'
'Well, you could say that, but would it be true?'
'No.'
'Then it's still £60.'
'So you would knock some off if I was in "Be Alan's Apprentice"?'
'Maybe.'
'Can't we just pretend?'
'Can't you just buy it and pretend you got it for £50'
'Would that be a double pretend?'
'No. Just a single. I'm not pretending anything.'
'What? You think life is anything more than just one huge pretend thing?'
'Do you want the necklace Sir?'
'You know, you do remind me of myself when I was young. I admire your spirit. Your tenacity. I do. But I'm afraid there are better necklace assistants in this process. It's a tough one but, with regret, you're Fired'.

Cue the taxi.

Seahorsepower!

Self-promotion. She's an awkward old bedfellow. You've created something and now you've got to promote it, and thereby blow your own bassoon in people's faces. 

I like the idea of the subtle sell whereby one doesn't even mention the product in your publicity. A kind of subliminal guerrilla approach, such as stepping out, in the dead of night, to create a 30 foot mural of a silver brain all over ASDA.

Today, myself and a man (who shall only be known as 'Mr F') hotfooted round the town, in the cold light of day, hanging little seahorses on trees, rails and lampposts. We're not selling seahorses here. No – the seahorse is merely a visual device representing the product we are selling. Hopefully we will generate intrigue, future sales and global happiness.

'Jennifer, have you seen those little seahorses that have cropped up all over town?'
'I have. I love them but what do you think they're publicising Douglas?'
'Dunno, but I love them too and whatever it's publicising I'll buy ten of them.'
'I'll buy twenty!'
'Shall we get married Jennifer?'
'Yes. Let's do it now before we change our minds.'
'Oh Jennifer I've never been so happy.' 

A Beginners Guide To Ebay (Part Two Of A Two Part Blog)

The guy from Guilford didn't buy my Leicester City programmes, or the Doctor Who videos. Most probably because, in the end, I couldn't be arsed to put them up on Ebay. You have to fill in fifteen pages of forms, take and upload photos of the items from every angle, sign in and check progress every half hour, acquire references from teachers and doctors, convert to Catholicism ...

A Beginners Guide To Ebay (Part One Of A Two Part Blog)

A move is on the cards. And with moving comes an excuse for a right royal clear-out. I've recently heard of this internet phenomenon called Ebay. Apparently, you put up stuff you don't want anymore – from Siouxsie and The Banshees albums to books on the history of dry rot – and some guy from Guilford decides whether he wants to buy them.

It's time to say cheerio to my Leicester City programme and Doctor Who video collections. Apparently the guy from Guilford is given seven days to decide whether he wants them, so check back next week to see how they've done.

Live Blogging In The 21st Century

As I pen these words, pint at hand, a huddle of men engage with each other like birds of prey jovially discussing their catch, post-kill and feed. One of them is intrigued by me and approaches closer.

'What are you writing there chap?'
'My blog.'
'What's it about?'
'Anything that happens on a Friday. Could be about this moment.'
'You mean I'll be in your blog?'
'Maybe.'
'What – this very conversation?'
'It's been known.'
'When will you put it up?'
'Not sure. I'm normally a month or two behind.'
'Hey Ian, (he turns towards Ian) I'm gonna be in a blog Ian.'

I have to admit, Ian didn't appear that impressed.