In The Beginning….

Well. This is all a bit daunting isn’t it? Having just read an article on Richard Herrings’ website, (a comedian I’m still not entirely sure I like) I thought I would take him up on his recommendation to start my own online blog. He claims it’s healthy if you’re a bit creative and a good way to stockpile stories, anecdotes and material. But I’m not a comedian, why exactly am I planning on splurging my thought’s and views onto the infinite face of the internet? And just where exactly does one start with their maiden blog?? I’m pretty sure the three opening words from the Holy Bible are setting my sights a bit high….

Well its too late now, I’ve taken the plunge. I’ve invested. This has already cost me fifteen quid to set up. £15!! That’s six Lego Minifigures!! (this is covert exposition to inform you I’m a father) I’m committed now, and as I type these very words I am breaking my blog-hymen. Plus its good to try new things. I’m 37 and I’ve only just started to eat eggs. They’re actually bloody nice despite my lifelong mental block that they are chicken periods.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never even read a blog before but I’m guessing its a bit like a diary. Only saying I keep a diary would make me sound gay, and despite “blog” sounding like an amalgamation of racial slurs, it’s still preferable to diary.

I’m not even sure who this is for. Is it for me, or is it for other peoples amusement. And what other people exactly are going to read a complete strangers blog focusing on nothing in particular? (if you are a compete stranger and reading this, firstly, thanks! And secondly, go and talk to your actual friends you fucking maniac!!)
I’m guessing it’s for me. Not in a stuck up my own arse arty-farty way, more as a way to document the shit that goes on in my life that I normally forget by the following morning. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be banging on about my fifth wedding anniversary, (anecdotally that is indeed today) because lets be honest, only the wife cares about that. I’ll be focusing my energy on farcical, benign and pointless shit. Stuff that makes me laugh. Stuff that winds me up. I’ll certainly aim to make it amusing. And quite a specific humour as well considering the current target audience is me. I’ll no doubt get angry and have a few little vent offs. Maybe I’ll try my hand at some other stuff that takes my fancy. Amusing poem maybe? Upload some drawings or doodles i do when i should be working? Who knows! I’ll do what I do in my current employment as a Police Officer (that’s more covert and hackneyed exposition there) and wing it. Each day and each incident is different, so I’ve learnt to make it up as I go along from one job to the next. Think of it like ITV’s This Morning with Phil and Holly. Playfully bouncing from topic to topic just like the aforementioned hosts humongous personalty (aaaah you thought I was going to say tits didn’t you?)

Should I use peoples real names? Or should I change them to protect both myself and them. And if I do change them, should I give them all amusing pseudonyms?
Should I tell my wife Gertrude? (see what I did there?) she’s generally not a fan of my ‘creative’ side. She’s already banned me from uploading two videos onto YouTube, refuses to read my screenplays as one of them mentions a girl I used to fancy, and she seems to live in a perpetual state of constant embarrassment of me. Plus if I do tell her its bound to impact on how blunt and honest I’ll be as she’s likely to feature heavily. And not in a Fifty Shades Of Gray type way, we’ve been together ten years, we’re talking more along the lines of Stephen Kings Misery.

One thing that’s bound to crop up often is my Fuck-wittery. I’m not sure if that’s a real word, but it perfectly describes my ability to Cock up, screw up, fall over, say the wrong thing or make a general shambles of something important on a frighteningly regular basis. To give a crude example, here’s one of my favourite examples of my fuck-wittery;
I’m 17. I’m in cash-in-hand employment, and I need to bolster my income so i can turbocharge more £1 bottles of Smirnoff Ice with my mates, and pay my mum housekeeping so she can keep washing all of the socks she finds under my mattress. Solution? Illegally sign on to get an extra £78 a fortnight! Genius. So I have my interview, and the chap at the job centre asks me to come in on Tuesday to sort out my first jobseekers allowance. My response; “I can’t do Tuesday, I’m at work”

I digress. This opening gambit is all over the show. It’ll hopefully evolve into something and get a bit more structured, depending on how long it holds my interest. Whatever the fuck this is, I think its basically a memo for my future self to one day look back on and have a read, remember some stuff, and decide if I used to be a compete cock or not. So hello future me. Present me is about to blindly buckle up for a trip to the unknown. I may make a few wrong turns on the way, may even crash into a ditch after the first mile! I could pick up a hitchhiker, or kill a badger. Wherever the journey takes us, there are going to be some really shit analogies along the way… 

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