means a few surprises from time to time. Like telling people that it’s not a place where they shower you with money while you hang out backstage with Matt Smith or even Huw Edwards, for instance. Although there are a few fantastic non-financial bonuses, of course – like working on election night. Really must blog about that one day.
Anyway, it also makes for the occasional surprise in the rest of your life – like this ad I spotted on my Facebook page, basically begging for a job.
Suffice to say that most of the people that I know who are in a position to hire someone at the BBC don’t have Facebook accounts, as far as I know. Although I dare say the person who placed that advert would find such non-social-media people to be freaks of the highest order…
So psychic Derek Acorah’s had to cancel a few concerts at short notice. The pun writes itself. Which hasn’t stopped me in the past.
When I was flat-hunting in Cardiff, I saw an ad with a flat to rent above a psychic’s shop. So I called the number, and ended up speaking to the psychic’s son, who said that she’d fallen in a serious accident and was now in hospital.
I could see the joke coming towards me – and insensitive as it was – I just couldn’t escape the full-on headlights of the joke as it hurtled towards me.
And inevitably I uttered: “Sorry to hear that – did she see it coming?”
Surprisingly, the son carried on talking to me, and invited me round to see the flat. Although I shouldn’t have bothered. When there’s weird splatterings on the wall and floor covered with gay pornography, it’s not exactly a selling point for the flat.
At least according to BBC Three’s new comedy puppet show…
Then again, this shouldn’t come as a complete surprise to me. When I was living in Cardiff and hanging out with Miss H (naturally, a lesbian), I’d end up chatting to an intelligent, attractive, funny and uninhibited woman, only to find out from Miss H that she was, indeed, a lesbian. Hell, one night I was chatting up a lady who seemed inordinately keen and interested in me – and somehow, Miss H managed to pull her instead.
Also, when I look back at some of the celebrity ladies I fancied – as much for their wit or personality as their curly hair – they turned out to be lesbians. Cynthia Nixon, Sue Perkins, Donan McPhail to name but three.
To this day, five years on, my Cardiff friends will often remind me of the fact that I used to share a house with a lesbian couple, and give saucy nudgy winks about what must have gone on in the house. Indeed, one of my Cardiff colleagues once gasped with amazement at the stuff said lesbians left behind when they moved out – ignoring the fact that being a lesbian doesn’t mean automatic entry into the cool and fantastic division of people. Nor does being anything else for that matter.
What is the fascination with girls kissing girls anyway?
and for a bit of context on what that headline means…
Sure, it looks nice, but once you get into it, it’ll drive you insane with bright lights and a pounding headache afterwards.
(inspired by Swiss Toni)