I read the comments on the YouTube

I am watching this video by a lady called Shakira (who is apparently only 4ft 8 inches tall in real life), wondering, as I was instructed to by the friend that told me to look it up, what exactly she is doing in the cage and whether or not she is hurting herself with her repetitive hip dislocation.

But what is this? I am distracted from the sexy lupine antics of the South American wolf-fox by the comments that are written underneath it. Here, for your particular enjoyment on this chilly November evening, is a contribution from a "Miss Mackenzie". Where she is from, we do not know - but sure as eggs is eggs, she has her finger on the pulse!!!

I am made to laugh until I squirt by John Peel

I was sent this this morning by my friend Louis, who is reading a copy of John Peel's autobiography (found in Oxfam).

It made me extremely happy. I hope you enjoy it too.



In answer to the question "how did you feel about the music of the early ‘70s?", he replied:


“Well, when you look at that period, the only bands that got signed up were bands that contained at least one member of a previously successful band that had broken up, and almost the only new band that came through during the whole of that time was Roxy Music, so that’s why when punk came along, it was such a welcome breath of foul air, because you hadn’t realised how bored you’d been.

For instance, round about 1975, the controller of Radio 1, who was very much into motor racing, took us to Mallory Park. It was a regular race meeting, but there was a Radio 1 dimension to it. There’s a huge lake that takes up much of the area in the middle of the track, and right on the edge of the lake there’s a couple of small islands, and they’d set up a mock medieval tent on the bigger of the two islands and this is where the élite went, and you could only get to it from a footbridge guarded by security people. Slade were there, and the Bay city Rollers were also there. I was there too, standing outside the hospitality tent talking to my fellow DJ Johnny Walker.

Cars were hurtling around the track, and all these Rollers fans were dashing across, even during races I think, because the Bay City Rollers had been brought in by helicopter and were standing on top of this observation platform, waving to the fans on the other side of the road. The fans would run across the track, then down to the edge of the lagoon, and they’d see the Bay City Rollers about 20 yards away across this muddy water, reeds and stuff. Of course, these girls were all wearing Bay City Rollers chic – which wasn’t flattering – and they started wading through the water to get to their heroes.

The only security on the island – and it seems barely credible – was provided by the BBC Sub-Aqua Club. So you’ve got all these people in frogman outfits with flippers and goggles standing on the bank, catching these girls, carrying them back through the mud and depositing them on the other bank, where they’d just turn round and come back again. But Noddy Holder (of Slade, who had enjoyed an unbroken string of hits throughout the early 70s) went over the bridge and walked through this crowd and they paid no attention to him at all. He must have thought at that moment: “This is where it all ends.”

So helicopters are going backwards and forwards, all these girls are struggling through the water and there’s frogmen hopping about. I turned away, just in time to see on the main part of the lagoon, Tony Blackburn is hurtling across the water, waving to the crowds, in a speedboat driven by a Womble. I turned to Johnny and said, “Mark this well, because we‘ll never see the likes of it again.”

I offer you an early Christmas present idea

This tiny pack of tiny post-it notes provides me with nothing but non-stop pleasure all day long.

Rapidly becoming the 'most used' item on my desk (after my stapler and crack pipe), this wonderful product is a must for every self-respecting employee - especially those that believe themselves, in their hearts, to be essentially non-working.

They are available to buy, via the medium of the 'internet shop', here.

Pip pip!

I receive the best medical advice of all time

We are in Putre in Northern Chile and we are making a commercial. There is not much in Putre* other than some streets, some clothes made out of alpaca, shoes made out of alpaca, tiny alpacas made out of alpaca and a restaurant with alpaca chop suey on the menu.

Putre is quite high up in the air, and being high up in the air can bring on altitude sickness. Because we are lily-livered bottom dwellers, we are not used to the altitude, and more to the point, there is no way of predicting whether you will get altitude sickness or not until you get there, so we have taken 'precautions' before we leave.  I have Diamox, as do the others, but we all have slightly different prescriptions and spend a great many minutes discussing them; I also have cortisone (which apparently stops your brain from blowing up); we each have a bag of coca leaves and some of us have even stopped halfway up the road to Putre to drink chachacoma tea, pausing from our hungry sucking only to wonder why the Nestlé refrigerator says "Savoury" on the outside when there is ice-cream on the inside of it.

But preventative tea and drugs are to no avail, for on my first night in the height I feel sick, and dizzy, and very, very, very tired, and cannot walk for more than 5 steps without panting like a hot dog. I go to bed and sleep for 12 hours, but before I sleep I lie in bed panting like someone who is running very fast. It is strange and magical, and I sleep the sleep of the not-quite-dead.

The next day I am recovered, although still panting, and we go to the 'set' and we do work. But then a doctor comes into the place we are shooting and suddenly I am hyper-pantilating.
"That's not a real doctor. They're shooting the South American version of 'Days of our Lives' down the road, and he's wandered on to the wrong set", says someone, and they are almost right because he is tall with curled hair and flashing black eyes so he looks like a soap dish. But in truth he is a real doctor, and he puts our fingers in his little machines and tells us if we are OK or not, and he has eyedrops if we need them, and he puts plasters on our cuts and hands out isotonic drinks and walks around with his big toolbox on display for everyone to see.

Two days later, we go even higher, to 4,400 metres. We are in a place called Parinacota, which is very beautiful, but I do not think its beauty is why my heart is beating at one million bpm. I am frowning and the doctor says, "OK, you OK?", and I say, "my heart is beating very fast!", and he makes me put my finger in his little machine, and then he says, "you must sit down, and not walk or run, and tonight you must have red wine. This way, you will be better soon."

Result!

* If par hasard you are going there, the best hotel in Putre is apparently the Terrace Lodge. We stayed in Hotel Quantati, which was much much nicer than this link says. Of the other hotels in Putre, which is tiny teeny, one has beds that are the shape of bananas and heaters that light up the whole room with their red light, and the other one is run by a woman who looks exactly like a llama. Oh, and this restaurant is actually and literally brilliant, and not far away are places that look like this:

I am in the Chile!!!

Yes it is true, I am on the "set" of a "commercial shoot". It is super. Highlights so far:

1. Being stopped at Santiago customs going to Arica for a 125g bag of nuts; 1 hour wait; $200 fine. Meanwhile, people are held for 2 hams, a set of antlers and a banana (not all together).Yes.

2. Not being in possession of a telephone that works outside Canada.

3. Being kidnapped by 3 producers (who we were not expecting) whilst my client had no (0) idea where I was, due in part to (2).

4. Extraordinary views. See below.

5. Shooting lady with llama walking up street; meanwhile, man with cows walks up street, swiftly followed by a flock of sheep. Sun comes down over Chilean mountains. We all go: oooooo!

Tonight, we shoot a volcano at sundown, and tomorrow morning some llamas at sunrise. We will be very tired!

Pip pip

NWM