Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Aquafresh Vessel

I know when I need to buy a new toothbrush: When bristles are a distant memory and the minster for Pearly-Whites drops around because "he’s concerned about me". People have always told me I don’t talk about toothbrushes enough. I do find it a deeply personal area, but I shall somewhat attempt to redress the balance now. I can’t help but be baffled by toothbrushes. I do actively try to avoid bafflement, but bafflement comes so naturally to me, I always seem to be swimming against its tide. Drown.

I’m not even talking about electric toothbrushes, I’m talking about the calorie-burning manual variety. I shiver at the thought of getting involved with the electric ones. All that shaking and holding thick handles, it‘s not right. We should fear them.

And there I stand in Tesco Extra, a rack full teeth cleaning technology towering above me, asking me to give them a new home. I can only be confused, in fact sad, that things aren’t just a little bit simpler. Do I want to ’cross -stroke’, am I interested in ‘gum massaging’ (I’m not and I visited by accident and in fact I thought the pictures were quite tasteful), or do I want ‘ultra clean teeth that only come from Ultra technology’.

I look around desperately, and spot a shop-assistant; a young ginger with a superfluous Berol. “Can you talk me through some of these toothbrushes” I ask her, my hand raising slowly to my chin in eager anticipation of toothbrush sales-patter. She smiles nervously and carries on reorganising angry cans of deodorant into gangs.

A man in his fifties comes along and grabs at a brush, almost recklessly throwing it into a trolley full vegetables that almost certainly don’t exist. Such confidence, I presume, can only come with age and experience. Maybe in twenty years that’ll be me. I’ll coolly push my trolley full of organic cock along the toiletry aisle, wink at a passing Tescobabe before, with hardly even a passing-glance, scooping up a bad boy and looping that teeth-cleaner over my back into my trolley, letting it rest neatly next to an oberjober.

For now that’s just a pipe-dream, it’s a twenty-four hour supermarket, but I’ve been there so long they want to close because the twenty-four hours are up. I grab at a yellow one and slip it carefully under a bag of carrots. I look for the check-out person who appears never to have cleaned their teeth. I’ve done it.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Blair V Bowen

Lionel Blair's appearence on the 1980's best gameshow Bullseye. A legendary piece of footage by any standards. Obviously this is an early television outing for Lionel and he's a little unsure of exactly how the whole thing works. He has seemingly seen Jim before the start of the show and asked where the audience will be sitting, to which Jim has replied, "Don't worry I'll point them out to you as soon as you get on stage." As Lionel enters his fears immediately dissapate as he easily locates the audience and acknowledges them. Just as well, as Jim nearly, but doesn't, forget his promise. Audience located, it's time for business. The business of comedy:

Lionel Blair is determined to crack Bowen. And a lesser man than Bowen would have cracked under the barrage of sharp wit from Britain's favourite celebrity dancer.

Jim has held out though, and there's only twelve seconds of the clip left. Blair knows he still has one comedy gem hidden inside his odd looking head. But the line involves a pointing action, and with nervousness at a maximum after facing poker-faced Bowen, he is unable to hold his arm up to give one strong confident action. Looking at Jim for any sign that the great man is ready to subside into raptures of laughter, he nervously fires off two quick fire pointing actions at his comedy target. Has Lionel blown it with his unsure delivery, or is the joke of such high quaility it will nail comedy genius Jim Bowen against the wall of hilarity anyway?

On a side note doesn't the darts challenge seem just a little impossible. Lionel's obviously never seen a darts board before. And let's remember he is simultaneously providing comedy. I would imagine the meeting at Central Tv production went something like this.

"Shall we make ourselves look good by doing a charity round?"

"Fuck yeah, but let's not actually give away any money. How about setting a challenge where a celebrity who can barely hold the weight of a dart has to score 241 with nine darts?"

"Brilliant, they'd need nearly 30 points per throw, they'll never do it....No, just a minute let's really take the piss. Let's say 301 with nine-darts, but give them a 60 point head start 'Cause we know you don't do it for living'."

"Super, Smashing...'