Gregg Wallace is an idiot

The title says it all really.

He's exactly the type of nouveau-riche fool who I fully expect to take up residence in greater London in some sort of ostentatious mansion, but not to actually be in the media spotlight.

The fact that this man is employed, is frankly, offensive. I can't get over how massive his head is.
Seriously, it's huge. Not only is it huge, but it looks like someone has got a face the size of a room, then tried to squash it down to normal size. Yet still failing, because his face looks like it's fighting to burst out, and go on a killing spree or something.

Anatomy issues aside, the man is a complete scumbag. Whilst undertaking some investigative journalism (i.e. donning a parka, adopting the walk of a rambunctious young lad and generally looking like a bit of an idiot) I quizzed some stall owners at Covent Garden Market about their history with the above named Mr Wallace.

Wishing to remain anonymous (presumably because Wallace runs a militant arm of Masterchef, who come round your house and scream in your face that "COOKING DOESN'T GET ANY HARDER THAN THIS" repeatedly, until you're a sobbing wretch), I was surprised to hear a range of different views from stallholders.

They ranged from a simple "what a tosser", to: "He still owes me money, if he ever came down here again, he'd be lynched".

So it's not just me then, clearly. He should be ousted from his post at the BBC, ordered to pay back all the money he owes to various stallholders, and replaced with a younger, less aggressive type on Masterchef. I was thinking someone who possesses a rakish charm, a philandering sense of self and a passion for cooking that would make Delia look like a Little Chef employee. I am of course, talking about myself, I'm the obvious candidate, so hi Mark Thompson, if you've any sense, sign me up.

Shape of things to come, part II

Lack of scribblings of late. This has been due to me being on a roadtrip in America, so sorry about that. But not that sorry, because it was incredible. Anyway, I might be taking a break from the whole blogging thing for the time being, maybe until September anyway. I have a film to make and a screenplay to pitch, so most of my time is going to be spent pursuing that. I'll most likely keep you up to date from time to time about how the whole thing it's going. At the very least we'll be showing the film at a few coffee shops around London, at the most we may even get a screening at one of the Picturehouse cinemas in London, in which case I'll be inviting anyone I bump into to fill up seats. Ciao for now, not that anyone reads this shit.

Sub prime steak

Just thought I'd weigh in on the ridiculously over-emphasised and boring topic that is the economic crisis.

It's difficult to understand the logic that led to an enormous economic downturn. Of course, it was primarily driven by greed, and the need to constantly up the risk factor in order to reap the rewards. I know very little about economics. What I do know, is that the banks' strategies were always madness. New Labour further encouraged this culture of high risk lending, partly because City Boys have been in and out of Downing Street for 10 years, on the basis of donations, but partly because they believed that this was one area of industry which might just work, no questions asked, without regulation.

I am loathe to delve into specifics here. While there are a myriad of reasons and theories about why the economy went belly up, (sub prime market lending and endless amounts of other financial jargon) as I've already mentioned, it was all inevitably caused by increasing greed. I have a bone to pick with building societies that turned into banks too. The behaviour of banks is now to lend more than their asset base. HBOS changed the business model from an old-fashioned, slightly boring banker who gave you some money and then lent some money to someone who might pay it back, to someone who decided that leverage was a cool-sounding word and borrow several times what the bank owned, then lend it to anyone!

When there was a remarkable shift from the slightly jaunty, thrifty "credit crunch" to a more serious economic downturn in September 2008, Gordon Brown said "I've been worried about this for a long time". REALLY? Which British politician opened the Lehman Brothers building in the City in 2004, saying: "Lehman Brothers is a great company. Let me thank you for the privilege of being here, I look forward to its future" It was Gordon Brown. That's what happens when you are complacent in the face of recklessness and greed, and you don't realise that markets are not moral, they're amoral, that’s why you regulate them. What's so stunning here is that I'm no economist, yet I am flabbergasted at the ridiculous nature of the situation. One can't punish the banks too heavily, because after all, it's our money that they rely on. The Catch 22 is that we need them as much as they need us, thereby to a certain extent they can afford to do what they want.

Still, it's not the end of the universe just yet.

Oh dear.

Sunday afternoon. South East London.
As I didn't have much to do I decided to go to the cinema, where Greenwich Picturehouse do matinees for a fiver.

After the film (Shifty, excellent), I popped into the toilet for a cheeky piss. As there was virtually no one in the cinema, I was looking forward to the moment of quiet reflection one can get from standing alone at the urinal.

Or so I thought.
A noise which can only be described as a cacophony made itself known from one of the cubicles. Think the beach landing from Saving Private Ryan.

I paused for a moment. "Oh God, it's someone having a fit of internal combustion in the cubicle, and he doesn't know I'm in here, so won't show any restraint." I had to act fast, to let him know that I'm here. I softly reached over to the door, and pulled it open, letting it slam back against it hinges, denoting that someone had entered the room.

Silence.

Brilliant. It's worked, I thought. Now all I need to do is wash my hands before..."PLOP PLOP PLOP!".
Oh no, he's still doing it. He knows I'm here, yet he continues! Suddenly I becamse painfully aware of the sound of toilet paper being used, trousers being pulled up. I've got to get out of here. There's no way I can look the man who provided the sound effects for Platoon in the eye. But it's too late. The cubicle door is opening, he's approaching the sink.

Silence.

"Nice day today isn't it mate?" he pipes up.

"Yeah, nice and sunny I guess" I awkwardly reply.

"Nice and quiet after the Marathon"

You have got to be shitting me.

With that I was out the door, running down Greenwich High street in the vain hope that I'd find something to take my mind off things. You just don't want that on a Sunday Afternoon.

Skiving, no doubt.

This post is going to be somewhat brief, mainly because I'm bored at work and dodging the watchful eye of my manager as I write this.

Two of my friends have just left for America, meeting in the former hub of car manufacturing that is Seattle. I'm meant to be joining them soon, flying out to Toronto to explore the East Coast of America. Recently I've got the travel bug, and it's affected my outlook on daily life quite a bit. I love the sensation of strolling around, not knowing where I'm going, looking at the buildings around me. (This same sensation can be easily replicated if you neck 12 shots and then stumble round your local town centre, but never mind) There's something very liberating about travelling somewhere you've never been before. Maybe it's the sensation that you won't bump into any of the reprobates who happen to live on the same road as you, or just rediscovering the child-like sensation of the shock of the new. I'm beginning to be sick of London, having lived here for most of my life. It's nice knowing where everything is, how to best navigate the tube system etc, but it's become boring. I remember the first time I went to Boombox at Hoxton Bar and Kitchen, the amazing feeling I got that I was part of something innovative and exciting. Ever since I've failed to replicate that feeling, in a club or otherwise, London and it's personality have become predictable, much like that sinking feeling you get when a relationship no longer excites you.

So to conclude, I'm looking forward to seeing new pastures in America. Because you see so much of American life through a film lens, you're almost surprised when it actually turns out to be the same as it is "in the movies". Places like New York City take on an almost mythological status, because of the countless iconic films/photographs/books which have used the Big Apple as it's backdrop, and I'm pleased to say that I'll be a part of it soon.