‘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 relieved 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 your 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 . . .

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 . . .

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’!

iHustle

Are their any good builders out there? Finding one isn’t as simple as getting good crack in the eighties is it? Damn, they lock up all the drug pushers and let the real cowboys roam the streets. Every time these dusty boot crooks leave my house they get a wad of cash and leave what appears to be a job well done . . . “Cheers Bob, thanks once again.”

. . . that is until you turn the tap and find it’s still leaking, or take a good look at walls and find that the paint job is uneven. My days . . . bet you never see him again . . . “If I ever get my hands on Bob!”

Maybe I should have been a builder . . . I’m not joking.

• You don’t need any qualifications
• You don’t need to apply to any companies
• You don’t even need to actually know how to complete the job you’ve been assigned

All you really need is some dirty overalls, a pair of old boots and a little bit of marketing. You’ve got 66.6% of those things lying around your house. Invest in some tools . . . I’m sure you have some already, but it won’t look too professional if you’re screwing in nails with a table knife.

Another great aspect of this hustle is that all money earned is tax free. If you’re not contracted to an organization you’ll be paid cash in hand . . . which turns into cash in bank. No tax, no National Insurance and the student loans bureaucracy can kiss my asshole! Cheeks spread and all! . . . Excuse me.

When speaking of hustling the drug game is unappealing to me because apposed to the builder’s trade it is too risky and has way too many expenses. In the builders trade customers are charged for additional supplies or equipment. Need some pipes? Your clients have to pay for it. Need some tiles? Your clients have to pay for it. It’s a cost effective hustle. In the drug trade you pay for any additional supplies i.e. scales, utensils, packaging, weaponry, etc.

If you want to sell drugs you need cash up front for your supplier. That’s already investment spending . . . as we business minded folks are aware, no investments are certain. You could splash out on some stock and:

• Get jacked by a rival gang
• Realise that the market is too competitive (you must sell stock at a lower rate)
• Law enforcements could confiscate your narcotics
• You may forget it on the train
• Your girlfriend might smoke it all (bitch)

Far less hazards are met as a builder, but they do of course exist. To maximise your hustle you must stop thinking like a drug pusher who is worried about being shot or arrested and start thinking like a builder. Here a few pointers that should make life a lot easier for you.

One . . .

It’s worth noting that builders don’t ride public transports; it’s not just an image. They need to lug about heavy/large equipment. So get yourself a van or lorry. Don’t worry they’re dirt cheap on the second hand marker. Yes this is an investment spend, but it will pay itself off and can also be used for leisure . . . I’ll pick you up at eight ; )

Two . . .

You’ll need to network with builders who are actually skilled. I’ll tell you why . . . whilst on a job you may be asked to additionally take care of a tricky task which maybe electrical or of the plumbing nature for example. Now instead of blowing a fuse or flooding the ground floor for the extra cash, take on the job and call someone who can actually do it. When the job (you didn’t do) is complete take a share of the profits. Two birds, one stone, simple.

Three . . .

Take into consideration that the builder’s hustle involves a lot more labour than trafficking drugs. So even though you’re not doing the job properly, you’re still going to have to work for your money. The house isn’t going to paint itself now is it? Cut back on time by not applying an undercoat if you’re painting . . . tell the occupants that it’s supposed to look like that until it dries . . . by the time the notice the difference you’re long gone.

Let’s be real . . . do I really need to pull up sources to suggest that more people have been ripped off by builders than by drug distributors? And how many builders get prosecuted each year for crappy jobs? . . . Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Now if you’re nodding along while reading please note that in order to be a dodgy builder you must be more unethical than our salesman of choice (the drugs pusher). As far as business is concerned, drug sellers are more loyal to their customers. This is because their business is set up with some of the basic customer service ideals:

• You want substance abusers to return
• Good business will multiple via word of mouth
• You make yourself readily available (business number)
• You trade at competitive rates
• You don’t want stoners grassing you up to law officials

In order to be a successful dodgy builder, scrap all that sh*t above. Returning customers will try and take you to civil claims courts; word of mouth is will almost always result in slander; you can only be available for fast money jobs; and as for competitive prices . . . never hold on too tightly to a builders quote. It always ends up being a ‘bigger job’ than first predicted.

I hope you’ve learnt a thing or two from today’s economics lesson. There’s a lot of money to be made out there, legally and illegally. Just be careful before you decide which avenue to pursue, make sure to weigh up the pros and cons. You’ll to maximise your revenue and minimise your expenditure . . . simple stuff.

A to the . . .

Ak-Man’s Top 5 Reasons To Get A Job

Who wants some free money?

OK, it’s not totally free, you have to ‘work’ for it . . . well actually, if your fortunate enough, you just have to turn up to work. You don’t even have to arrive there on time.

“Of course profits drive most companies to get the most activity out its employees for the least amount of payment that they can get away with. So it would serve an employee well to get the most amount of payment for the least amount of work. A balance must be struck between employer and employee.”

– Eugene D. Gibson (An Islander’s Outlook Of The World)

If you already have a job, GREAT, you’re halfway there . . . just try not to leave your monitor exposed while you read this. Most of us are being overworked and underpaid, so I’m about to reveal my Top 5 Reasons To Get A Job.

5. LUNCH TIME

Some employees are fortunate enough to get paid for their lunch breaks . . . how great is that? You could almost call it a free lunch . . . almost. Others are not so fortunate but it’s okay. If they give you an hour’s lunch, leave 10mins earlier and come back 10mins later. That’s 20mins of free money. Now sit at your desk and settle down for another 10mins . . . that’s 30mins worth of cash you didn’t ‘work’ for . . . welcome to my world.

4. HOME TIME

Simply the best part of the working day. You’ve been looking forward to this since your alarm went off in the morning. Unless you work in a small office environment, or have to clock in and out like Fred Flintstone, you really have no excuse for not slipping out 15 – 30mins early. You aren’t chicken are you? I thought you wanted some of that free money. Get up and stroll out as if you are supposed to be leaving that early.

Always have someone else to blame (who isn’t around) if you get caught by a superior.

3. SICK PAY

There are several reasons to take ‘sick days’ . . . try not to waste them when you are actually sick. Ever notice how so people turn up to work feeling like crap? Coughing all over the place with red eyes and running noses? It’s because they don’t want to waste their sick days in bed with no one to look after them. Take sick days when you’re feeling well, that way you’ll get paid to recover from a hangover, watch TV and play computer games . . . or even go to an interview for a job that pays more and requires you to work less.

2. HOLIDAY PAY

Quite similar to sick pay, but offers less spontaneity. I have a higher regard for holiday pay because if you’re fortunate enough, you may actually be going on a holiday. Somewhere nice where the inhabitants don’t understand what you’re saying, and you’re never sure if you received the correct change from the shops. Your employer can’t phone you with annoying questions or ask you to come in for a half day. You’ll return to money in your bank, that’s money you earned by enjoying yourself in another country and not thinking or work at all.

1. Turn Up And Do Nothing

As ‘they’ say, it’s the small things in life. The Number One reason to get a job is that you can get paid a days work and do nothing but . . .

Take A Power Naps – Lean back on your chair, close your eyes and catch up on some of the sleep you lost the night before. Alternatively, fold your arms on top of your desk and use it as a rest for your head.

Make Personal Calls – Not only are you costing the company money by not doing your job, you’re also running up their phone bill.

Have A Snack Break – Isn’t it funny how no one will question you if you’re sitting at your desk eating a choc bar. Only a fool would ask you what you’re up to. Totally acceptable in the workplace.

Check Your Emails – If you don’t know how to do this, you really shouldn’t be working in an office environment . . . get yourself a McDonalds application form and learn the value of an hour.

Chat To Your Friends via Instant Messenger – Compare who’s wasted more of the day; make social arrangements; discuss prior arrangements; moan about having a job; send each other cool web links to check out.

Check Out Cool Web Links – http://islanderoutlook.blogspot.com/

I’m sure you can think of several other ways to escape working while at work (pretend to go to the toilet), there are loads. If you’re really bored, try and calculate how much of your working day you actually spend working. You might be surprised by how much free money you’re stacking up.

“So it would serve an employee well to get the most amount of payment for the least amount of work.”

- Eugene D. Gibson (An Islander’s Outlook Of The World)

A to the . . .

Yeah I'm Gonna Beat My Kids

It might yet be a while till I’m a father but this discussion still interests me. When it comes to the debate on whether or not to beat your children (and by beat I mean spank) I’ve heard long and drawn out arguments from each side.

- Child abuse
- Discipline
- Lazy parenting
- Necessary parenting

The list goes on and on, and strong arguments are made in this verbal tug-of-war. Occasionally an opinion falls into the flammable cipher and everyone gasps in horror at its simplicity. A point of view so straightforward it surely cannot hold any weight. Can it?

“I’m going to beat my kids because my parents told me to.”

*GASP*

Yes, my parents have both directly and indirectly given me a truck load of reasons to beat my future kids if they step out of line. To suggest that I’ll beat my kids because they told me to sounds more or less spineless and cowardly; I won’t dispute that. So maybe if I break it down for you you’ll let me keep my testicles.

First and foremost, this debate doesn’t hold much weight where I’m from; the capital of Africa, home of the brave 419’ers . . . Beyonce sang our national anthem, that makes her one of us. Jay-Z drew water from our wells . . . but I’m not too keen on him so he can stick to the projects.

In Nigeria its common to beat your children when they step out of line, I’d go as far as saying it’s the number one disciplinary option. I got beats, my bro and sister got beats . . . I went to my cousins’ homes and they got beats . . . I’m certain that if I was raised in Nigeria I would have gone to school and got beats.

This was pretty much the norm in my upbringing. I never liked getting whooped, what kid would? Don’t dislike and discipline go hand in hand?

Would it be fair to say that they beat it into my nature? My culture and environment have imposed several other traits on me after all; I believe that this is another one of them.

I’m not eager to beat my kids; surely that’s when the issue slips into child abuse. But now I appreciate the line that was drawn between me and my parents . . . even though I spent the first half of my life loving but not liking them that much. In that sense I’d say they went too far with the discipline. I never looked at my parents as friends, as buddies, as pals. It was always mum and dad; approach with caution.

Beatings at my expense allowed my parents to maintain the parent child relationship. You could of course argue that other disciplinary forms would have been just as effective at instilling fear and respect. Did my parents know at the time that their disciplinary authority over me was dependant on whether the beatings hurt me or not? Surely they were aware that I’d grow older, that one day they’d dish out a beating and I wouldn’t even flinch, much less cry. They knew right?

Of course they did!

I never got a beating that was unjustified, not one I can remember anyway. And unless caught in the act, I was given the opportunity to plead my case (or think up a good lie). Every beating came with a lecture that usually lasted at least one hour; they sat while I stood. My days, the lectures were honestly more painful than the beatings. The older and smarter I grew, the less beats I received and the longer the lectures lasted. Notice the shift?

To further justify my decision to beat my future children I’ll draw attention to another significant ingredient of my upbringing. That ingredient is religion. Raised as a Christian, I went to church on Sundays, read my Bible, and prayed before I went to bed. I often listened in church with tentative ears, hoping (almost praying) to hear loopholes that would benefit my budding mind. None arose, but several suggested that a Christian lifestyle might better fit the parents.

- Honour thy father and mother
- No sex until you’re married
- Spare the rod, spoil the child

God was on my parents’ side. Another reason to begrudge them . . . and He also had several reasons to be angry with me. Three on one . . . you might even say it was five on one (if your brain has warmed up). Not the kind of odds for a kid to get excited about.

Some relief comes in knowing that when I take the parent role God will be on my side if I have to beat my kids. They won’t like it, but hopefully one day, after I've beaten stupidity and rebelliousness out of them, they’ll see me as more of a friend . . . sort of how I see my parents now.

A to the. . .

"Keep The Change Ya Filthy Animal"

“Ever wondered why the gap between the rich and poor nations is so great, or why it’s so difficult to get a foot on the property ladder, or why you can’t buy a decent second-hand car? This book offers the hidden story behind these and other forces that shape our day-to-day lives, often without our knowing it.” – Tim Harford

The latest book I want to bring your attention to is ‘The Undercover Economist’ by Tim Harford.


I was attracted to the book because I read a similar one last year called ‘Freakonomics’ which grabbed my attention with it’s snazzy cover and interesting topics of discussion. I picked up The Undercover Economist hoping for more of the same.

Freakonomics is a hard act to follow; authors Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner dug in deep, their project included chapters such as:

- What Do Schoolteachers and Sumo Wrestlers Have in Common?
- Why Do Drug Dealers Still Live with Their Moms?
- Where Have All The Criminals Gone?

Sounds fun right? It was. Not only did they ‘have a laugh’ with Freakonomics, they also broke down a lot of theory and indirectly showed readers how to apply it.

The Undercover Economist is as interesting, but not as fun. Harford seems a lot more rigid and practical. A lot of his arguments and theories are sensible, logical and pretty much air tight. He covers each subject from a variety of angles and indirectly gives you the tools you need to go out there and start challenging your own world of microeconomics. Great stuff . . . if you can be bothered that is.

You’ll learn some economical jargon along the way and start paying more attention to your pennies. You’ll begin to notice a lot of the options society makes indirectly available, and you’ll know why people complain about things they have power over.

Tim Harford’s effort is original in the sense that it not only explores economical loop holes and faults, but also offers solutions as to how economics can make the world a better place for everyone . . . sounds like something an eight years old girl would waste a wish on if she found a magic lamp. His solutions to everyday problems however are well thought out, realistic, and also feasible. Keep reading his book and you’ll also know why they are not implemented.

Economics is not as simple as ‘supply and demand’. Economics tells us who gets what, and more importantly why they get it.

Want to know why we pay so much for confectionaries when we go to the cinema? Might not seem so important because we can evidently ‘afford’ to be overcharged . . . so why is it that we (London citizens) complain continuously about outlandish public transport prices?

I’d argue that we are all to an extent Undercover Economists because we have reasoning and understanding where our finances are concerned. We can tell you why we chose one product over another, our definitions of a bargain and we know when we are being ripped off.

Tim delves a lot deeper, at times you’ll be pointing the accusing finger at yourself, but be reassured, you’ll get to wave it at others as well.

A to the . . .

Some Peoples Opinions Are Stupid; I’m Sorry, That’s Just My Opinion

Unfortunately we live in a society where everyone is entitled to their own opinion, no matter how stupid this opinion may be. When it comes to opinions, no evidence is needed, no facts must be presented and there is usually no right or wrong answer. One man likes the Borat movie, another thinks it was dim-witted and boring (bar the naked fight scene in the hotel). The problem which I have is that anybody can make outlandish or nonsensical comments and present them as facts. I am indeed a highly opinionated man, and in addition I also love to argue. Don’t bring your opinions to me . . . unless of course you think I will agree with them.

Here is a list of observations that I couldn’t be bothered to research into; this leaves you with just my opinion. If you don’t agree with these statements you are stupid, I’m sorry, that’s just my opinion (see how easy that is?).


Anyone who watches Deal Or No Deal (at least) twice and doesn’t understand the game is stupid. It really is as simple as it appears, you guess boxes and that is as complex as it gets. Why is the show so interesting? Well because we want to see greedy people go home with less than £1000. I watched the show today and the banker offered a lady £44,000 and she said “No Deal” . . . silly woman left with £8000 and a pissed off husband. He was seriously pissed; I honestly thought he was going to cry.

KFC’s Zinger Tower Burger is the best chicken burger bar none. I’ve tasted the Chicken Royale and the McChicken Premiere so f*ck your opinion!

Some people still believe that 2pac is alive; it’s amazing how a dead man can have more of a life than some people.


Tyra Banks’ breasts are the best thing about America’s Next Top Model. I applaud the shows producers. Yeah the show has other interesting factors, but her breasts are top trumps.



Being black isn’t deemed ‘cool’ anymore. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but it looks like ‘black’ has run its course for the meantime. We’ll be back though, probably when the new 50 Cent album is released, or when Densel Washington plays another bad guy. Whichever comes first, it’s cool with me.

Big Brother is played out now, why are they holding auditions for another series? You had a good run; it’s well and truly over unless you stop filling the house with phoney extroverts who turn out being depressed and unbearably mind-numbing.

Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas is a poor mans version of Gwen Stefani. This wasn’t really evident until she decided to release a solo album. The formula for her first single London Bridge is too similar to that of Holla Back Girl for my liking. I’ll restrain myself from making this case stronger; no one wants to hear an educated opinion after all.

In my opinion this is the worst entry I’ve made on this blog site. Why did I post it up? Well just to make a point I guess. If you have missed the point . . . well, if you have missed the point then this is in fact the best blog entry I have made.

A to the . . .

The D.H. Routine

Some time ago I was in a bar with a few friends and we got chatting to some ladies. The ladies grouped up after a while and went to the toilet together (as they do). While they were gone one of my friends taps me and says, “What are you talking to that girl about? I can’t think of anything to say.”

I just laughed and shrugged my shoulders. The truth was that I wasn’t too interested in the girl and I was basically chatting sh*t. The girl was laughing at my jokes and falling for my corny lines. I wouldn’t say I’m the smoothes cat out there, but I know how to keep a girl interested. One of these ways is my self developed D.H. Routine.

What is it?
It’s simply a routine I developed for getting a girls attention.



Background
I openly admit to watching Desperate Housewives, it’s a great show and I’ve seen every episode. It has an attractive cast of ladies (Eva Longoria), black/dark comedy, enticing drama and it is extremely well directed. Seriously, you need to check out the framing, scene switches, motion camera work and creative angled shots.

Expectedly I catch a little bit of heat when I tell people that I watch this show as it is supposedly for girls. Instead of trying to convince unacquainted people otherwise, I decided to put my energy into something more rewarding . . . getting digits.

I’m Giving It Away
I wouldn’t really class myself as selfish, self-centred maybe, but not selfish. I want to share my routine with some of you guys out there. It’s just to give you a little bit more artillery when you’re called for duty. This is not my most creative, diverse or charming routine, but it works effectively and is a great ice breaker with a get out clause.

Disclaimer
This clearly doesn’t guarantee you anything. If you don’t have enough game you don’t have enough game. No routines, chat-up lines or fancy suits will save you.

So With That Out Of The Way . . .

Step 1 – Select a Lady
You’re in a bar with some friends and you spot a tasty looking lady. She’s with some friends and it looks like she’s is having a smashing time. You don’t want to stroll over, disturb their fun conversation and look like a jerk . . . no, that’s the easiest way to ‘see what you can do with o2.’

Step 2 – The Approach
Now you don’t want to directly approach your lady of choice or she’ll instinctively get defensive, you want to approach the group. You want to appear slightly ambiguous, but certainly harmless. If you’re using this routine, you may also want to appear like a fun loving guy. Open up the group, “Excuse me. Can I get your opinion on something please?”

Step 3 – Run The Routine
You’re ideally with a friend at this point, one who is willing to play along with the routine.

“Do any of you watch the show Desperate Housewives?”
It doesn’t matter if they have or they haven’t watched the show, they should have heard of it and at least be a little bit curious as to where you’re going with this.

“My friend here is taking shots at me because I watch it. He is trying to say that the show is just for girls and that I’m gay because I watch it. What do you all think?”
They’ll chat some sh*t and confer with each other. Don’t pay too much attention to what they are saying; just try to gauge how interested they are in what you’re saying.

Now you want to get your feet wet with the girl you have your eye on. But you still don’t want it to appear as if you are working game on her or she’s going to act ‘long’. Throw one or two questions at are her friends and try to get them laughing first. Then turn to the girl you’re interested in and ask “If you were chilling at a guys house and he urgently wanted to watch Desperate Housewives, what would you think?”

If she gives an uninterested response you might want to retreat (like a coward), but if she’s all smiles and gives a detailed response then its game on. Joke around with the group a little bit, but keep your focus on her. If your friend isn’t a waste of space he’ll also be keeping the group engaged leaving you with ample opportunity to start working solely on your girl of choice.

Step 4 – You’re On Your Own
I’m sure you all have your own unique ways of working game, no further steps are required, just do your thing. If the girl seems interested do your thing. If she doesn’t seem interested, do your thing. If she seems cold and is unresponsive you might want to fall back on this one and pursue an alternative.

Before You Ask
Yes I have used this routine on girls, and yes it was with positive results (not always though).

Credit: This post was highly influenced by Neil Strauss’ book titled The Game. I recommend it for both guys and girls. It’s entertaining, insightful and exceptionally amusing.



Now lads, go and get you some digits!

A to the . . .

‘Like Father Like Son’ or ‘Mamma’s Boy’

I was peacefully watching Hollyoaks in my room this (Tuesday) evening, escaping from the realities of life that must be put on hold for thirty minutes. Just then, my sister bursts into my room, “Dad wants you.”

My pops had got back from work a short while ago. I went downstairs to see what was up, he looked smug and my mom looked quite worried. My pops extended his hand for me to shake it. As we shook he said “I’ve got you the car.”

OK, OK, back up for a second.

I’m planning to get a car before August, so I’ve been
talking about cars to anyone who will listen (and anyone who won’t). Pops
happened to be one of those who would listen, and comment, and offer advice. It
turns out that Pops ‘knows a guy’ who sells cars (at suspiciously low prices); I
don’t ask too many questions. Pops isn’t a shady character; he just works with a
lot of people that can get ‘stuff’. This is to be expected though, he works in
Hackney (there I go generalising again).

Monday Pops tells me about
this friend, he is selling a Mitsubishi for £500. I tell him I’m interested, I’d
like to know more.

Tuesday . . . “I’ve got you the
car”

Huh?

My dad is shaking my hand with a big grin. My mum looks exceedingly apprehensive, and I’m standing there bemused.

My dad put down a deposit on a car I haven’t even seen before! He was so happy that it was hard for me to even grasp the reality of the situation. He was waiting for gratitude which never came, my mum quickly wiped the smile on his face as she adopted the role of the concerned parent and began to poke holes through his ‘good intentions’. As the quarrel heated up I sat on the couch, zoned out and let my brain catch up with the occurrence.

Both parties have strong arguments.

Dad: I’m trying to help you get a ‘great’ deal. These kind of deals don’t come around too often. Why can’t your mother see this son?

Mum: How can he expect you to buy a car that you’ve never seen before? Don’t agree to anything you’re not sure of son!

So there I was, listening to their verbal grappling match. I’ve been in this position before, several times in fact and I’ve learned that the argument is rarely as important as whose side I’ll take. Especially when they both have my best interest at heart.

I know most of you are likely to agree with my mother’s argument. It would seem illogical to buy a car without even seeing it. We’re not talking about Nike trainers or mobile phones. Yet at the same time, I’m sure we’ve all been in the position where someone else gets an eye-popping bargain and we ask them twenty-one questions about it. It’s usually a case of them knowing the right people, or being in the right place at the right time.

“Why didn’t you get me one” we yell enviously. I guess my dad didn’t want this to be the case with me.

I (obviously) decided that I wasn’t prepared to shell out £500 for a car that I hadn’t even seen. So yeah, we went to see it.

My dad was too tired from work, and too angry at my mum to drive. So I had to get behind the wheel. The more you drive, the more you appreciate the passenger seat. As I drove I got a text message, which I read after we pulled up (safety first). It was from my mum:

Do not comi your self to any financial
implication you are not sean for. please.

OK, dodgy spelling, but you catch the drift.

I had a rough idea of what the car would look like when my dad told me the model. So I wasn’t too surprised as I stood in front of the dark green Mitsubishi Colt and was given the keys for a test drive. As soon as I saw the car I knew I wasn’t going to buy it. There was no mass appeal, I wasn’t drawn to it in the slightest. It had a broken side view, dodgy passenger seat and a chunky dent in the rear bumper . . . oh, and a few bolts hung loosely off the back of the roof where a spoiler used to be. I had no desire to kick the tires (that’s what you do when your checking out a car right?) so I just jumped right in, twisted the key, shifted the car into first gear and rolled on. I must admit, it was a nice drive. Smooth gear changes, and not a lot of noise coming from the car either.

After playing with the vehicle I was asked “Well, what do you think?”

I had been thinking about this question whilst driving around. I wasn’t in an elaborate mood, and knew that my fathers ‘rep’ was riding on this response. Regardless, I kept it simple, “thanks, but no thanks”. No need to waste anymore time right?

The drive home was quiet, a few words here and there. Pops didn’t show any emotion about it, but it felt like I was letting him down. It’s as if I’m saying mum was right and you were wrong (which is only true because I didn’t like the car). I couldn’t buy a car just to play dad’s advocate.

Ugh . . . so I guess I’m a mamma’s boy.

A to the . . .

Shareen Presents: Have We Got It All Wrong?

Following the vast number of deaths appearing in the news of the young boys being killed, it has sparked a theory in my mind that ‘we’ as a consensus have got it wrong with whom we perceive to be the most vulnerable sex. The term vulnerable is defined as being, ‘capable of being physically or emotionally wounded; open to successful attack.’ Chambers (1991), ‘Concise Dictionary’ p1204. The word itself is compared to being ‘susceptible’, ‘weak’, ‘defenceless’, and ‘helpless’. I don’t want to put words in people’s mouths, but I will go on to assume that when relating these words to a particular sex, we would associate the female sex with the terminology.

I believe as a female, going for an evening out, there are so many factors I should be expected to consider. Forget the, ‘what am I going to wear?’ and ‘does my hair look nice?’ I have to think about whom I am meeting up with, where I am meeting them, is it a safe location? Am I going to be isolated? How am I getting home? Am I going to be on my own? Have I got extra money for a cab? I could go on . . . Hope you get the general drift.

Our friends, family, the media and the government have always had an instinctive concern for women’s safety. You have family (in my case my parents) ensuring I let them no of my whereabouts. When I go out for an evening they tend to want an idea whom I’m going out with and also for me to give and approx time that I will be rolling through the door.

The focus is largely on ensuring the safety of females, making sure they are careful of accepting drinks from strangers as they may contain a date rape drug. We should walk around clubs with fingers or palms covering the top of the drink, we are told not to get too drunk so we can get home safely, we are told to get into registered cabs to insure our safety and to travel in numbers even if it means crashing at a friend’s yard for the night. We are told to watch our back when walking on a street, and to stay visible to others etc.

Other terms for vulnerable are, ‘in danger’, and ‘at risk’!

Should men be considered to be at risk more so than females? My conclusion is YES. There are no statistics or evidence, and I have not begun to look for a study on the matter, so if you don’t agree calm down its my own theory. I have various reasons which have lead to this conclusion but I will only name a few… its 00.24am … I do want some sleep you no!

From my point of view, men are more likely to be:

1. Beaten up
2. Robbed
3. Stabbed
4. Murdered
5. Threatened
6. Involve in fights/gangs

I am not excluding females being subject to the same abuse, but males are more vulnerable to these kinds of situations. And because we associate man’liness as being ‘strong, brave; dignified; noble.’ Chambers(1991), ‘Concise Dictionary’ p 630, we may not worry about a males safety as much as we really should. The world is not the same place.

I am not saying that mums and dads do not stay up waiting for their sons to come home safely, but I am sure guys do not give as much details to parents of their whereabouts. Not as much as their female counterparts. Whilst females may say, ‘I’m going to the cinema’, males may just say ‘I’m going out.’

This is a contested issue and so much more could be said, but my point is that males need to be protected as much as females, it doesn’t take away ones macho’ness. We just need to stop taking for granted that men should be able to stand up for themselves and be safe out there, anything can happen to anyone at any time as made evident on the news lately.

Take care of yourselves and each other.

Shareen