‘Thank you for your application…’

Not only are they thanking you for submitting your generic covering letter, they’ve also been dazzled by your embellished CV. Great stuff, but don’t pop the cork just yet, there’s still work to be done. If you’d like to be relived from the despair of daytime television, Jimmy’s Fried Chicken & Kebab, and conversations with the postman, you’ll really have to nail the interview. Follow these reliable steps and you’ll be nailing jelly to the wall.

ONE. Wear a bowtie – Yes ladies, you too. Nothing says ‘I can get the job done.’ quite like a tuxedo. You weren’t just going to wear the tie were you? That’s the kind of half-baked mentality that will make you ‘unsuccessful on this occasion.’

TWO. A pipe never fails to impress.

THREE. Establish your character with a firm handshake. It’s likely you’ve spent most of your time ‘in between jobs’ putting more hours into the PS3 and bashing all hell out of your bishop than applying for jobs, so try not to crush the interviewers hand.

FOUR. Research the company. Inside information will have employers feeling like you’re part of the team before the interview is up. Who’s sleeping with who? Who got kicked out of the local last Friday? Who used a sick day to get their Christmas shopping done?

FIVE. Put your feet up. Drag a chair over; plant them on the desk, whatever. It’ll make you appear comfortable.

SIX. Smile. Don’t be afraid to show some teeth. A nice smile can put a room at ease, especially if you have the kind of face that found its way into the adoption program.

SEVEN. If you don’t have an iPhone, rent one.

EIGHT. You’re going to want to appear like the hottest prospect since Mylie Cyrus, so get a friend to call you a couple times. ‘Sorry, could you give me a minute? I have to take this.’ Step out of the room, make a show of it, take a few tokes of that pipe.

NINE. They are going to want you ask a few questions of your own. This is a great chance to sell yourself, not the time to ask about the boring stuff you could have Googled. Try something suggestive like, ‘Is there a local gym?’ Flex the biceps a little.

TEN. ‘We are impressed by you visual eccentricities and the past experiences documented on your CV. But could you share with us some of your weaker points?’ Every candidate goes silent at this point. It’s a question you never take the time get your mind around, so when asked all you can think about are the weak points you don’t particularly wish to share. ADD, your disregard for authority, anger management sessions, the real reason you’re unemployed, rehab, your criminal record, the lady under your floorboards, it’s not really your iPhone, etc. Don’t say ANY of these things! Instead, with a face straighter than Ron Burgundy’s say, ‘I don’t have any.’

Now if you don’t get the job after that you may just fancy reassessing what you plan to do with the rest of your life.

A to the . . .

The Lunch Hour

Without a doubt the quickest hour of the working day. What to eat? Where to get it? How much to spend? . . . The possibilities are far from endless and as exciting as watching paint dry . . . in a paint pot . . . with 3D glasses.

There are options, limited ones, but options nonetheless.

If your day’s not too busy you’ve probably been weighing up these options from about 09:15 or so. You’ve just finished a bowl of Kellogg’s Special K (or a real breakfast if you’re one of the few people left not on a diet), and you’re staring at a monitor thinking, ‘what should I have for lunch today?’

It’s quite an important decision as it could affect how your afternoon rounds off. How do I feel? What did I have yesterday? Do I need a shit?

There’s always the safe bet, a sandwich. The marvel we know as sliced bread was created solely for this purpose. I can’t help but drool wondering how large sandwiches were before sliced bread was invented. The good old days when a chicken sandwich may have actually contained whole bones! Now you buy it, you open it and then wallow in self-pity. This is what my life has become, sandwiches on the bench in between the high street’s two longest serving crazies as they argue Brown v Cameron.

…worse still if you’ve been to Subway. Then you feel like a kid in a carnival trying to knock down three cans with one ball.

An alternative is the usually cost effective grease box – not as in soliciting, although there are similarities. Junk food, the nation’s favourite mass pastime after X Factor (there aren’t figures to back that up). It’s cheap, bad for you and ready to go. We feel good whilst eating our oil drenched chips and deep fried jumbo sausages, but the comedown is horrendous and it’s so hard to shake off the shame. Society is filled with wannabe health freaks that couldn’t tell a tomato from a pomegranate. ‘Do you know how many calories are in the chips alone?’ Nope, but I’m guessing not as much as your muffin tops.

Payday, lotto winnings (not enough to quit your job) or a colleague’s birthday can set up the best lunch of all. The sit down meal. We’d all love to eat out of the gold plated trough five days a week – and could probably afford to if we walked 14miles instead of taking the train – but it’s just not feasible. So when the opportunity does arise the concern isn’t why we’re eating out, but where we’re eating.

…’Oh, happy birthday by the way.’

As the month draws to an end and funds begin to run low, out comes the Tupperware. As sure an indicator of poverty as putting £5 worth of fuel in your car . . . and paying with coins . . . lots and lots of coins. Of course some people purposely cook for lunch, their meals contain meat, veg and some sort of side – it’s balanced. However, it’s most likely the dregs of last nights’ meal crammed into a plastic pack and your granary roll isn’t fooling anyone. Once done with the microwave are you greeted with, ‘Hmmm, that smells delicious’ or ‘Erm, that smells in-ter-res-ting?’

Seeing as you can (and most people do) spend most of the day eating at your desk anyway, it’s unlikely that the appeal of the lunch hour is food. We are of course at times hungry enough to eat a horse, though rarely given the opportunity to test the theory. The appeal of the lunch hour is knowing that for at least 60 minutes you’re free from the hassles of your job that make you wonder why you don’t just turn the alarm off each morning and stay in bed instead of pressing snooze. What’s a snooze really, other than a soon be reason as to why you were late and will as a result work through your lunch break?

A to the . . .

Hitting The Right Vein

True Blood – Season One

Tits, ass, murder and more tits. The highly promoted vampire series has all of this in great abundance. It is certainly not one to watch with the parents, unless of course your dad bought you your first porno mag . . . and showed you how to use it! Shudder.


Over halfway through the first season I figure I should have grasped an idea as to what all the fuss is about. Does the show have any real substance, and can the storyline carry it? Well it’s not gripping, but it’s certainly fun. True Blood is not a show that relies on cliffhangers week in week out to reel the audience back in. The idea here is that you’ll enjoy the fifty or so minutes so much that you’ll already be looking forward to the next installment before the current one is done.


Those yet to be exposed to the blood fest, open your minds to a world adjusting to humans and vampires cohabiting. You don’t need to go too far back in the history books to know that the up rise of any minority group has never been a smooth ride – so buckle up as it’s no different here. To make it an even bumpier ride the show is set in Bon Temps, Louisiana. The town is fictional so don’t go there looking for a ‘fang bang’, but I have it on good word that the State of Louisiana is very much real.


We are in the Bible Belt of America, and we have Vampires. A clear binary you’d think; good v evil. Yes, but we’ve seen good v evil more times than Amy Winehouse has been spotted in a KFC. So what’s so special here? Firstly, no one is really that good, least of all the humans you’d naturally identify with. The town oozes fornication, murder, racism, bigotry and more. And those exempt are either half-past crazy or (soon to be) dead.


True Blood is highly rated here in the UK and it’s a show I certainly recommend to those not easily offended. It’s fun, frisky and imaginative, with bimbos for the guys and jocks for the gals. Aside from the jiggling breast shots there are generous helpings of genuine romance, mystery, suspense and thriller – don’t forget the laughs, the show doesn't take itself too seriously.


You can catch leading lady Sookie, Vampire Bill, their friends and foes Wednesday nights on Channel 4 from 10pm. You haven’t missed much, jump online and catch the first two episodes on 4OD.


A to the . . .

Why Is A Metrosexual?

It’s a question I’ve given thought to for as long as people have tried to convince me that pink is indeed my colour. Contrary to common clichés my disregard isn’t a matter of discomfort with my sexuality. My Oyster card simply doesn’t cover the bandwagon.

A broad misconception of the metrosexual is that he is the grey area between the hetero and homosexual male; I find this reasoning unfounded. I am also indifferent to ideas that are heavily anchored by the metrosexual’s fashion sense. Are we so quick to forget the skinny jeans and tight T-Shirts of Grease’s T-Birds, and Danny’s compulsion to ensure his hair was always kept in righteous order? Replace the leather jacket with a cardigan (which Danny eventually did) and we have today’s man.

So why then is a metrosexual? Well it’s more to do with social evolution than androgyny. And knowing how narrow minded we men can be, would it be so far fetched to pitch that this wave of image consciousness and liberal mind states is all a bid to improve our chances of getting laid? To swipe a term from Neil Strauss’ No. 1 bestseller The Game (the autobiography of a pick up artist), it appears that the metro is on a twenty-four hour peacocking binge.

“PEACOCK-verb; ‘to dress in loud clothing or with flashy accoutrements in order to get attention from women…”

The metro’s uniform is of importance and I do not wish to downplay this aspect. Their brash splashes of pastels and flashy accoutrements are arguably as noteworthy to their identity as black apparel is to Goths. The fashion codes may allow you to point out stereotypes and sub-cultures, but it doesn’t provide a clear indication of what they’re all about.

You see, this most certainly is a man’s world, but it wouldn’t be nothing without a woman. The further we drift from the creation of fire, the wheel, and the brilliance of sliced bread, the more this becomes undeniable. The liberal perception of the metrosexual stems from his acceptance of female independence in the Western world. A man’s car no longer holds defining value as it’s now more likely a woman will have her own. If a fight breaks out she’ll have her earrings off and hair tied back before a punch is landed. And what can he buy her that she can’t get herself . . . in the correct size with matching accessories?

It was once our differences that drew men and women together. As these differences have gradually dissolved men have sought alternative and less primitive methods of snaring their prey. Metrosexuality in this case is an expression of the similarities between men and women, simultaneously associating itself with stereotypes of homosexuality. After all, if you can’t beat them join them.

All is not lost for the macho, macho man. You’d lose a fair bit of money betting against a woman’s yearn for a man in uniform, hard hats, or Diet Coke breaks. The metro’s cutting edge is that he picks and chooses from the general consensus of what women want. He can keep the muscles and drop the dirty nails; the Timberland’s are traded in for plimsolls.

Modern men, regardless the colours of our shirts are dropping chauvinistic tendencies for more open-minded principles. And no one is waving the flag with more vigor than the metrosexual.



A to the . . .

24 – Not Jack Bower

On the 31^st of July 2008 I’ll be stepping (more likely sleeping) into my mid-twenties. People older than me might yell, “Oh, I wish I was twenty-four again.” - because of hearing difficulties. And people younger may send me text message which reads, “oh I cnt w8 2 b 24” . . . even though they are standing right next to me. I on the other hand will just be glad not to be twenty-three anymore; I really don’t like the number in terms of age. There’s nothing about 23 screams milestone*, and I’m in need of milestones at this stage of my life.

In recognition of one of my most recognisable feats to date (turning 24 and hitting my mid-twenties) I’ll be setting up a one-year blogging project that will kick off from July 31^st. I know it may seem greedy of me to want two blogs, but there really is enough room in this town for more of me (I mean us, for more of us).

The New Blog Site

The objective of the new site is to document my life through quotes from other people. By capturing interesting quotes from friends, family, news and entertainment etc. I plan to open up readers to my personality, points of view and activities in a more personal way than A Darker Shade Of Black. What is more, I aim to exhibit how other people’s involvement in my life affects the aforementioned.

I’m wrestling between ideas of writing styles to apply; for me blogging has always been an exercise in creative writing and self-expression. A standard ‘dear diary’ approach may be too unadventurous, whereas applying myself to the blog as the third person and using novel techniques may distance readers from the reality of the project. Consistency is key to this project, as it will run across a limited time and I don’t want to find my niche after six months of guess work. Positive changes will of course be embraced with open arms, but more so if a strong foundation is laid to work on.

What To Call The New Site?

Here is a shortlist of suitable names for the new site:

24 – Not Jack Bower

Loads of people love 24, and may be cajoled into reading with hopes that there will be references to the show . . . which there wont be, hence the Not Jack Bower bit.

Chapter 24

Insinuates a novel-like quality while informing them that they haven’t started reading from the beginning.

The 24^th

Simple, quick and informative once you begin reading the posts.

My Life, Your Voice

Lame.

With less than a month to go there isn’t time for me to thoroughly plan the project. Kinks must be ironed out and the site must be set up in good time for its official launch. My one man PR team will spread the word and alert the blog sphere of the next piece of meat to be slapped on to the BBQ.

We’ll see how it goes. A Darker Shade Of Black will remain active; hopefully the two blogs can interlink and feed off of each other generating more appeal. Overall I hope it’s fun, enthralling and read worthy.

A to the . . .

*Other ages I’ve found to not have that milestone feel include:

9, 12, 14, 19, 22 and 23

James Presents: Is Time Travel Possible?

I am here today, to answer one question and one question only. It is THE question. The ultimate question. The question that man has asked ever since he first saw ‘Back to the Future’… Is it possible to travel in time?

Now… finally, after years of research, study, and pissing about getting stoned. I can reveal an answer! An answer, to the question of all questions…

And that answer…. Is yes.

It IS possible to travel in time! Or something to that effect.

The only trouble is it’s not the precise image that Time Travel conjures up… Less 80’s image of futuristic metals… Deloreans and phone boxes… and more sitting on the sofa in your pants on a Sunday Afternoon watching Thursday night’s Big Brother.

“It’s Time Travel for the masses!” – Michael Parkinson – On that Sky ad

Even Parky says Time Travel’s possible. (with the aid of Sky+) –
Imagine it… at some point in the past, if you wanted to watch The Bill, you had to be in whilst The Bill was on! How wank is that?! I don’t have time to take note of both WHEN The Bill’s on, AND to make sure I’m at home DURING. Cheeky bastards. – Mind you… who actually wants to watch The Bill?



Now… I’ve thought about this, and if I had the superpower to travel through time. One of the MAIN ways that I would abuse my power (and there would be many ways) would be to pause the TV whilst I went for a piss. You don’t expect me to believe Hiro Nakamura misses the football like a chump just so he can get a beer when he wants a beer? Of course he doesn’t. Even Superman had to fly around the world 200 times just to go back a few seconds!

I hear what you’re saying though… you’re saying:

‘O.K. You’re absolutely right. It IS possible to go BACK in time… but you said Time TRAVEL is possible. How the cock do you intend to go forward?’

And that’s a good question. If I had the superpower to control time, I’d throw myself forward too. In truth, it’s really very simple and anyone can do it…

All you have to do is think about how far forward you want to go, and therefore how you want to ‘connect’ with yourself in a way that you know you (future you) will understand. There are loads of different ways you can choose to do it. My personal favourite method of time travel surprisingly, is not a spaceship, a toaster, or a flux capacitor… but e-mail.

I have crucial information that Future Me needs to know about. Future Me obviously DID know about it, because Future Me used to be Present Me who has only recently become privy to said information. However both Future Me, and Present Me are human and therefore forget things. Neither of us can be expected to remember EVERYTHING we know. Especially if the particular piece of information is rendered completely and utterly irrelevant until the time at which it needs to be called upon. Why bother then, even attempting to remember information that is completely useless to you? It’s just clogging up valuable brainspace that could be used for a sudoku. Or if you’ve got friends, to have an intelligent conversation with them.

How much easier would it be if I could simply travel forward in time, find Future Me, ask him how it’s going… how’re the kids?

“Oh really, little Timmy got an A on his Science Project? Brilliant. Oh by the way… actually the reason I came by… You remember a few months ago you got an invitation to Jake and Courtney’s wedding? …”

“Hmm? Yeah I think she’s gotten a bit fat actually. Oh she’s lost it now? Well… good for her.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to remind you it’s this weekend. Just making sure you didn’t have any plans.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem. I’ll probably remind you again just before hand. Make sure you don’t forget.”

How much easier would life be!? No more forgotten anniversaries. No more work trip/child’s Christmas play schedule cock-ups! And all it takes is for you to do a bit of time travel. You can even wear goggles and a silly hat if you like. Or a stupidly long 8ft multicoloured woolly scarf.




Send an email to yourself with the desired information you wish not to be forgotten… Don’t open it… and every time you open your emails, you’ll be reminded of the information. Leaving you free to get on with your life. You can even put the date that you want to travel forward to in as the subject. So you know you will open it when it is required.

How good is that?! Time Travel!

Admittedly, I could just keep quiet about it, and keep this gold for myself. I could probably turn myself into a superhero or something. But then, what kind of superhero would I be if kept something this good away from the people. The very people I have sworn to protect.

This is truly the stuff of science fiction. It’s becoming reality. And I am the person to bring it to everyone! Suck on that ‘Tomorrow’s World’!

eBaylise It

Never in my wildest dreams could I conjure up such a term as ‘eBaylise it’; full credit for that one goes to my father. This witty, yet simplistic term has spread like wildfire (in my house). It’s in reference to putting something up for sale on eBay . . . get it?

The internet is filled with unlimited resources for time wasting, so it’s great that there’s a service out there that allows you to make positive use of your juiced up PC, high speed internet connection, surround sound speakers and colour rich widescreen monitor . . . apart than downloading porn of course.

Several years too late yours truly has jumped onto the eBay bandwagon, and now I’m rummaging through nooks and crannies for ‘trash’ that someone else may view as ‘treasure’ . . . I don’t have as much trash as I previously thought so I had a poke through the neighbour’s trash . . . they didn’t like that at all and I now have to leave my house through the back garden.

My toughest challenge since joining the eBay crowd and further increasing my status on the opinion polls has been finding things to sell. This has proven itself to be more difficult than previously imagined. You see on one hand I can now say with confidence that I don’t hold on to trash I don’t need (ask my ex-girlfriends) . . . but on the other less appealing hand I’ve now opened a shop which stocks one Norton 360 antivirus package and a suit jacket which doesn’t come with the matching trousers . . . even the window shoppers are disappointed.

…a dismal store at best. I now wish I had held on to a few of those exs (ooh cheap shot).

How Does One Acquire eBay Stock?

It’s pretty cool that there are ‘entrepreneurs’ out there who make a living out of eBay. But why do they have so many possessions that they don’t want, and where are they getting all of their stock from? Surely no one gets that many bad presents on their birthday or Christmas? . . . and aren’t these gifts supposed to be re-wrapped and given to someone else who wont like them?

My short stint with eBay so far has also disproved the myth that we all have valuables we don’t need just lying around the house. I’m not expecting to lift a corner of my mattress and find a coin collection worth in excess of 1.3 million pounds, or a pocket watch that was used by Winston Churchill. And I’m quite dubious that a bidding war will be sparked by my unearthed odd socks . . . I’m quite happy to have found these and will not be putting them up for auction.

In spite of eBay’s potential to entertain and consume my spare time I can’t see myself receiving enough unwanted gifts, finding buried treasure or spending money at retail outlets to sell purchased goods at a profit. I could see myself sticking up a few high street stores though. Kids go crazy for iPods and ladies do love their handbags and shoes!

A to the . . .

P.S. The Norton 360 antivirus software sold sold for £17.50 plus £3.50 p&p