Archive for the 'Writing' category
I have had lots of things published, from travel journalism to funny little anecdotes.
I also write a regular video review for Guardian Unlimited called Pickard of the Pops.
Below are the most recent things I’ve written. If you’re after something more specific you can delve into the different areas - click on the categories on the right hand side to find things like humour, restaurant reviews, travel journalism, television and features.
Thursday, March 6th, 2008
On the opening day of the Crufts dog show, Anna discovers prancing poodles and strutting St Bernards are among life’s more entertaining sights. But don’t for one minute think the owners are there for a laugh
[for The Guardian News Blog, March 6, 2008]
It is 11am on a Thursday and I have just stepped over a pile of collie sick and avoided a crowd of surly teenagers who thought they were way too cool for school - though not, apparently, for hats shaped like spaniels. The arena is slowly filling, as I watch 16 labradors dance in formation to Mika. Hands up who’s having the most random day so far then…
The dogs stand, the handlers walk around them. The dogs sit, the handlers walk away from them. And then come back. You only have to hope that there’s a practical use for this somewhere, because someone’s spent an awful lot of time on it. Good for calming down hostage situations, perhaps?
Well, whatever, it is five minutes before the controversial heelwork-to-music freestyle final. This is the Southern Golden Retriever Display Team, and their schtick, it seems, is that they’ve trained their dogs not to run away when subjected to renditions of fey pop artistes at eardrum-bursting levels. Which is not only remarkable, it is almost miraculous.
Suddenly, the gruff Brummie PA announcer pipes up: “It’s one of the most exciting events here at Crufts, and you might have seen it mentioned in the press today…”. Well, here’s another mention. But with the growing popularity of what were previously considered novelty or side events - agility, flyball (posh “fetch”) and the event I’m waiting for, heelwork-to-music (or, as the papers have disdainfully called it, “dancing dogs”) - it would seem ludicrous to miss this, the the freestyle final.
“We don’t call this doggy dancing,” says the event commentator. “The enthusiasts don’t like that - this is pure, pure skill; it’s pure dog training. It’s not a new thing, either - there was always a tricks section, this is just about stringing those tricks together. But to music,” he says, and everyone claps, meekly, having Been Told.
It clearly is extremely skilled, with precision body-language commands and physically demanding choreography (obviously, if you’re a dog - otherwise it’s not terribly hard), But with points given for musical interpretation, it’s possible to see where people might have got confused about the dancing issue. In fact, as the first competitor arrives in full 1980s aerobic Lycra, it’s possible to see why everyone’s got the wrong idea about the novelty thing, as well.
Performing to Flashdance (or Flashheelwork-to-music, as they maybe should have retitled it), complete with dumbbells and yoga mat, is Borderlair Cinnnamon Twist and handler Lesley who “after all that exciting marking”, says the announcer, have “gone into the lead!” Which is not entirely surprising, seeing as they’re first up.
While the individual arenas are surrounded by small crowds of breed enthusiasts, as the much-scorned freestyle heelwork-to-music continues in the arena, the crowds slowly dribble in, and soon people are excuseme-ing to find a seat to watch the impressive not-dancing the dogs are doing.
The crowd goes wild for the entertainment: dogs carrying cups of tea; dogs jumping on the spot. A particularly cute mongrel - sorry, crossbreed - clowns around to “If I only had a brain”, during which excitement levels might only be higher if the dog was wearing comedy dungarees and a floppy hat.
The judges, the announcer keeps sternly reminding us, are marking for technical accuracy. Nevertheless, they also seem to coincidentally score the highest to the dog-handler teams that are the most entertaining. Looking at the crowd, they aren’t all experts in the form, so perhaps the wisdom of the masses holds sway in this instance.
Eventually, after an animal dressed in rainbows spinning umbrellas, a poor unfortunate Portuguese Water Dog that loses concentration to the strains of The A Team (well who wouldn’t?) and something in vaguely bad taste involving a collie, a blanket and a sign saying ‘DANGER: MINES!’. the Wizard of Oz dog (not Toto, he’s fictional, and dead) eventually wins the day.
The crowd goes wild. Heelwork-to-music may, it seems, be contentious, but it’s big in Birmingham.
I wander off to find the real spirit of the competition, away from the Flashdance and the flashing lights and the flashy moves, because though this populist fun may be the way Crufts is heading, its roots are in the practiced trotting of perfect examples of their breed. So I’m off to find one of those. And then maybe put some money on it. Although apparently William Hill’s stopped taking bets on a dog from today’s Toy and Utility group taking best in show, so I’m going to have to get a little more specific and just pick one. Maybe the one with the best name.
[Full post and comments can be found here]
Writing, Humour, Features |
Thursday, March 6th, 2008
In 1891 Charles Cruft, travelling purveyor of fine dog cakes, decided the existing competitions open to compare British pooches were paltry in comparison to their European equivalents. So began the event that would grow to be the largest annual dog show in the world and would, to this day, bear his name.
Crufts. Even the word sounds like a well-bred puppy, barking. Drawing more than 150,000 visitors to the Birmingham NEC, and a million viewers to the television last year alone, there’s no business like dog show business, apparently. And yet, due to various good excuses - like not owning a pedigree dog, having more important things to do and annually forgetting that it is on - it is, sadly, a closed world to so many of us.
Which is why, for the next few days, News blog will be reporting from Crufts on behalf of all those who have ever wondered what it might be like to go to a dog show - perhaps after seeing a film like Best In Show, or simply after spending a couple of hypnotic hours watching preened pets march around in a circle as part of the show coverage. I’m here, hoping to lay my hands on some dog experts who can give us an insight into the inner workings of the competition and, when I can’t, tackling all the non-dog expert questions like: Do dogs actually look like their owners? (candid photography allowing). Are the best of the best trained to answer to their full kennel name of Chi Am Windows Vista Norbert Shake ‘n’ Vac III, or can you just call them Rex?
Does the entire Birmingham NEC smell of dog wee, or, after 17 years of staging the event, have they built some dog toilets to go with the male and female ones? Perhaps most importantly, at least in betting circles: is it possible for a complete dog novice - or “dovice”, as it may be technically known in show circles - to spot an out-and-out Best In Show winner from instinct alone?
My guess, especially for the last, would most probably be a pretty clear ‘No’, but I’m willing to give it a go - why not? Of course, this won’t be of interest to many, but it’s a big site, and there will be something that tickles them instead. Hopefully to some, it might at least be light relief, especially seeing as they couldn’t send any of guardian.co.uk’s dog experts, they were all busy, so they’re sending a blogger instead. And one who’s scared of dogs.
So, join us on News blog for reports from the fiercest competition between man’s best friends; for galleries, hopefully, of the most remarkable-looking dogs; for discussion, probably, of what dogs performing to music might or might not do for international relations; and on Sunday, join us for a live blog of the television coverage of the denouement of the whole thing - Best In Show, from 7-9 on BBC2.
In the meantime, do let me know if there’s something you’ve always wondered about the culture or convention of the great British dog show, and I will endeavour to find out for you.
To the dogs!
Writing, Travel & Food, Humour, Features |
Tuesday, November 27th, 2007
It is early on a Sunday morning in Wood Green, north London, and bingo players from around the country are pouring off coaches. Inside the cavernous Mecca hall, they scoop up glasses of free champagne and competition T-shirts before taking their seats.
This is the final of National Bingo Callers of the Year 2007 and these are the official cheerleaders.
(more…)
Writing, Features |
Monday, October 30th, 2006
A television feature for the Guardian Arts blog - a five hundred word piece from the author as West Wing devotee, bemoaning the arrival of soft-focus presidential soap Commander-in-Chief. Or as the subhead oput it: ‘The creators of Commander-in-Chief are so hung up on the fact that the president is a working mother that they’ve lost the plot…’ (more…)
Writing, Television, Features |
Tuesday, September 19th, 2006
In the City Palace observatory at Jaipur, the clouds are gathering over the jumble of upturned triangles and collapsed crescents. The shadow on the centuries-old sundial will remain at its afternoon orientation for a while longer, but soon the sky will darken so much that the dial becomes more of a trip hazard than a timepiece. The heat is pounding, the humidity has reached a stifling level and the combination makes you feel like a piece of cheese left out in the sun.Twenty minutes later, fat drops of rain start to fight their way through the thick air and explode on the hot slabs below our sandals in the central courtyard. Huddled into a doorway with tourists, workers and pilgrims, we watch as an ocean is poured through a sieve onto Jaipur. A quarter of an hour later the storm has passed, and everyone splashes their separate ways.
(more…)
Writing, Travel & Food, Features |
Friday, September 8th, 2006
Parents, children and people who spend far too much time smoking dope alike were horrified this week by the announcement that Sony’s long awaited third generation PlayStation has been postponed. Already delayed from November (although it will be available in Japan, the US and probably eBay), the grand European launch has just been pushed back again - to after International Presents Day. Sorry, Christmas.Still, the season of ridiculously over-hopeful letters to Father Christmas is fast approaching, and the young pay little heed to Sony’s press releases, so be prepared to crack open the Tippex and substitute one of our handy tips for PS3 alternatives.
A cup and ball. Beautifully nostalgic, the gift of a carved wooden cup and ball set will be sure to set the hearts of all historically-affectionate children on fire. For all other children, they are a gift that can, at least, be set on fire; and even if not, a swingable ball and stick is quite reminiscent of a nunchuck. See, kids, in the world before video games, we had to make our own senseless violence.A crocodile. As every red-blooded young person knows, there’s a newly opened vacancy for an international crocodile hunter in the world. What better way to show them you love them than to give them their own real live 12ft snapper. And remember, if they don’t like it, you can always flush it down the toilet. As long as you have a 30ft toilet.
A ball of wool. It’s been scientifically proven by kittens; there is nothing more fun in the world than a ball of wool. With built-in stimulation for the attention-deficient (especially if you live in a sloping house), and excellent exercise for the obese, the ball of string is the new Tomb Raider. In fact, it’s been rumoured that Lara Croft: String Baller will be launched late next year.
Two front teeth. All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth is a sickeningly cutesy Christmas song for children that has been sung by, among many, Mariah Carey. While her own front teeth may not be available on the open market (though anything is available for the right price . . .), if this really is one of the most desirable presents, two front teeth can easily be secured if you’re willing to part with 50p, dress up as a fairy, and stick your hand under the right pillows.
A 2ft figurine of an Easter Island head that doubles as a tissue dispenser. Let not your imagination be restricted to electronic diversions and flashing lights of technological temptation - for the price of just one PS3, you could buy more than a dozen of these great (and useful) items, enough for all the family. The tissues come out of the nose, too.
Canada. Create your own new world! Build cities! Raise civilisations! Nurture gentle but somehow comical accents! Like the Sims, but more polite! I don’t know how much the current rate of Canada is, but let’s face it; compared to the currently non-existent PlayStation 3, it’s probably quite good value.
- This article was originally printed in the G2 section of The Guardian newspaper (a href=”http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1867564,00.html”>here)
Writing, Humour, Features |
Wednesday, August 30th, 2006
While the media continues to focus on rumoured rifts between the pneumatically stretchy Madonna and her theme-park-Cockney-gangster beau Guy Ritchie, the word from within the Pneumaticockney household is that everything is just fine - great, in fact. And to ensure that it remains so, they have created what one magazine calls a “romance-boosting action plan”, or, as we’ll know it, a spousal spreadsheet, or “rumpy-rota”. (more…)
Writing, Humour, Features |
Monday, June 12th, 2006
Contrary to all expectation, it seems that the public appetite for watching stir-crazy exhibitionists bicker over dishwashing is not infinite. When a leaked audience tracking survey revealed at the weekend that a majority of viewers were bored with Big Brother, it threw a spanner into the TV. (more…)
Writing, Television, Features |
Friday, May 26th, 2006
Las Vegas: city of lights, sin city. The glitz, the neon, the glamour; the sheer audacity of a commitment to decadence unsurpassed anywhere else on Earth. At least until now. Soon, the jewel of the Nevada, the adult playground of America, might be rivalled by the home of the new super-casino - Sheffield, jewel of south Yorkshire.
Or maybe it will be Cardiff, jewel of the Taff; or Glasgow, adult playground of Strathclyde; or the Wembley stadium complex, Brent (which hasn’t got a snappy nickname as yet, although they are hoping one will be ready sometime in 2008). There’s scope for any of the above - or Greenwich, Manchester, Blackpool or Newcastle - to snaffle the big glittery, luminous, flashing crown of Vegas, in December, when the triumphant shortlisted location for the super-casino is announced. (more…)
Writing, Humour, Features |
Thursday, April 27th, 2006
Fankky, i’s ow-wajus. I fine i’ affo-uuti owajus. Va figiss … hangom, suwee, nee to swa-oh. Right: frankly, it’s outrageous. When people complain to the Advertising Standards Authority, it’s not the depictions of gender or race or age group that riles them; it’s not the fact that Wall’s deemed a dog spanking a man’s bottom with a wet tea towel a palatable way of selling sausages; no, it’s a comedy depiction of people talking with their mouths full. (more…)
Writing, Television, Humour, Features |