Two Types of People

There are two types of people in this world.Those that like the music of Celine Dion and those that think all she does is screech when she sings.

I love Celine Dion. Seriously.  100%. So much so that I say this. What is a little screeching between friends.

I lost my Celine Dion album over a year ago and frankly I want it back. At first I was in denial ‘it doesn’t matter so much’ I tried to convince myself. I was wrong. The truth is it does matter.

To make myself feel better I considered taking a trip of a lifetime to north Africa… ‘allbyyyyye myself…’ of course

Dukes of hazzard

You know where this is going right? -Okay then hold my hand through this- However I was in so much denial I couldn’t face visiting Egypt and seeing the Nile.
I just want my Celine Dion album back… even if she screeches… No one is perfect after all.

So what is the big deal about Celine Dion? Let me explain. Last year I would get up at 4 am for work. I wasn’t tired. Far from it. I would jump out of bed with all the zest of one of the dukes of hazard.

‘Yeeeeeehaaaaaa’ I would say as I leapt from bed. Then my feet would land on the carpeted floor. Then I would go through my b…s…d…s… ritual. Meaning I would Brush teeth… shower… drink water… and suit up. Then I would glance online at the BBC website briefly for ‘good news… good news.’ Then I would be at work for 6 or 6:30 am.

The beauty of all this was the hour or so drive to work listening to Celine Dion sing. At times I would encourage her ‘sing Celine sing.’ I would say. Her voice would envelope my car. It was like she was addressing me directly. I would stamp my feet lightly where possible…

I liked listening to her sing English songs ‘…think twice before you close that door….’ Celine would screech. I liked listening to her Spanish songs ‘feliznavidadprosperoano y felicidad…’ Celine would screech. Then her French songs ‘c’est pourtoi, toi, quej’aime encore…’ I would clasp both hands to my heart and screech along to her tunes as well. I would go ‘Eeeeeeeeeee’ then I would go ‘eeeeeeeeek’

Dude where’s my jumper?

I love Celine Dion. I said that already I know. It doesn’t matter though. You can never say I love Celine Dion too many times in one blog. However I hate it when I deny Celine Dion. One time I was driving through south London with my top off listening to Celine.

Just to clarify I mean the top of my car was down/off. I don’t mean the top of my clothes. I didn’t look down from singing ‘…my heart will go on…’ and suddenly go ‘oh crap I clean forgot to put my shirt on’ or do an Ashton Kutcher and say ‘dude where’s my jumper.’

No that’s not it. I always remember to put my jumper on before I leave the house. Always.Whether it is snowing or not.

Anyway so we are clear. My top was off (my car) but my top was on (my jumper) and I was singing x factor style along to Celine Dion. ‘…so this is who I am…’ I screeched looking at my reflection in the wing mirror ‘and this is all I know.’ Celine Dion’s voice screeched back in unison.

I got the opportunity to screech some more when a frenchcelinedion song came on next. I screeched ‘j’iraichercher ton coeur.’ Luckily Celine Dion screeched back ‘situl’importeailleurs…’

Glass breaks every time…

I sang my heart out wondering if I had the x factor or the ‘ix’ factor as they say in France  However as I drove my car through the south London streets I noticed a bus stop ahead with twenty or so people staring at me. I did the unforgivable. I denied Celine Dion.

In a moment of madness I hurriedly flicked my car radio to choice FM or radio one or capital radio. I forget which.

Luckily The rapper 50 cents music was blaring. he rapped ‘have a baby by me baby be a millionaire. I remember it so clearly now.  50 cent has a tendency to repeat himself and this time was no different. he rap…peated ‘have a baby by me baby be a millionaire.’

I nodded along to this more socially accepted ditty. However I knew the order of the day was not errant babies by errant rappers so once I passed the bus stop I put Celine Dion’s album back on.

Celine Dion’s voice screeches in nearly every song. My car screeched. Celine Dion screeched. So as not to be left out I screeched along with them. I went ‘eeeee… eeeee…’ then I went  ‘eeeeeeeeeek’

I remember the moment I lost my Celine Dion album like it was yesterday. It was a life defining moment like the day my voice broke. One minute glass breaks every time I speak, the next minute people are forcing me to sing Barry white songs. But I digress…

Find your cat

The day I lost my Celine Dion album I got out of bed at 4 am as usual. I had all the zest of a duke of hazard. As I leapt from beneath the duvet ‘I went yeeeeeehaaaaaa.’ My toes hit the carpeted floor.

I was thinking… I wish I had cowboy boots and a fedora and a neckerchief. I didn’t have these. I was sad. I had blue boxer shorts and one sock and a skull cap.

Anyway so I did my early morning b…s…d…s… ritual. Do you remember what it was: brush teeth… shower… drink water… suit up… and then I got into my car. I had my jumper on. Phew. See I told you. I don’t forget easily you know.

I looked at the time. it was 5 am . I couldn’t start my car without first putting my Celine Dion CD in.

However she was nowhere to be found. I rummaged in my glove compartment with my left hand ‘Celine?’ There was nothing in there, well except a pair of gloves of course. ‘no Celine Dion’

I swiveled my neck round and looked behind me on the back seat of the car… then even on the carpeted floor. no Celine Dion CD. hmmm. Where for art it?

‘Celine Dion?’ I considered getting out of the car and running down the road waving my arms around in a panic like the sky was falling. I cant find my Celine Dion CD.

As I looked down the street I cupped my hands to my mouth ‘Celine… Celine… where are you.’ Then I said ‘Celine… don’t think I cant feel that there is something wrong’ I looked under the car. Then I said ‘ you’ve been a tender part of my life for so long.’ I got up and said ‘Celine think twice before you close that door.’ then for no apparent reason i said ‘No NoNoNo.’You see. This is what happens when you deny Celine Dion. Bloody bus stops in bloody south London.  I won’t deny you again Celine Dion. Never.

I saw a woman walking toward my car. No it wasn’t Celine Dion. It was a person walking to work or coming back from work. I don’t remember which.

She must have heard me because she said ‘ you’ve lost Celine.’ And then she said ‘let me help you find your cat.’ It was quite strange hearing these two unrelated phrases said one after another.
Every day as the world turns and I observe it through Celine Dion tinted glasses I beat myself up with the same question. Where is my Celine Dion album? At times I wonder, why don’t I just order another one from amazon.

There are two types of people in this world. Those that like Celine Dion and those that think all she does is screech when she sings.

Seven Days

I met this girl on MONDAY

Took her for a DRINK on Tuesday

MARRIED her on Wednesday

Divorced her on THURSDAY

Gave her half of my possessions on FRIDAY

Stayed at home DEPRESSED on Saturday

By Sunday I had gotten over it… was very happy and
looking forward to the new WEEK…

I kissed a girl (and i liked it)

I saw two women kissing this week. It was amazing.

I was in Paris walking to the metro, next to the rue de la blah blah blah when it happened. I must have looked for all of three seconds but that was enough.

The first second I noticed something in the corner of my eye. Who goes there I thought? The second… second I realized. Oh my days it’s two women kissing.

lalala… la la… barbara streisand

The third second was the best. I got a feeling of elation and unbridled joy. All of a sudden I knew what the Beatles meant in their song ‘yesterday my troubles seemed so far away.’ Right then my troubles did seem so far away.

I felt like clasping my hands together and saying ‘shalom’ to every commuter exiting Saint Michel metro station.

I felt a firework of elation. I could have done the moonwalk right there and then, down the rue de la blah blah blah. I hadn’t packed my sequined glove but that didn’t matter because I still had the distinct laugh. teeheehee.

In those three seconds after the two women kissed at the rue de la blah blah blah… a happy tune popped into my head. It was very funky so I danced. I didn’t know the words but every thirty seconds I would go ‘Barbara Streisand.’

tell me more

I took my blackberry from its case and telephoned a female friend. I had to pass on the incredible news. I was so happy my voice was high pitched ‘Guess what I just saw two women kissing at the rue de la blah blah blah.’

I had presumed she would be as static as I was, who wouldn’t be. She didn’t appear to share my enthusiasm. Quite confusingly she said ‘Gosh, men are pathetic’.

I wanted her to have peace so I quickly said ‘shalom’ then I phoned a male friend. He was very happy to hear my great news. He said and I quote, ‘I was just about to fill in my tax return but this is far more important. Tell me more.

He seemed excited. However I don’t think he was as excited as me though because he didn’t say ‘Barbara Streisand’ even once’.

Although we are two very tough men we giggled like two little girls. We giggled like two big girls. I suppose we giggled like the two girls did… as they kissed near the rue de la blah blah blah in Paris.

This is all Katy Perry’s fault. Katy Perry has an incredible song called I kissed a girl and I liked it. Well Katie so do we. Guys everywhere. We love your song.

In clubs everywhere when Katy’s song is played it doesn’t tend to affect the women. Women are infinitely more mature than ‘pathetic’ men. They have so much balance and drive and maturity when it comes to this.


The women can blissfully dance, flippantly waving their arms, legs, hips and hair… side to side unaffected by the beautiful lyrics ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it’.

When this song comes on ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it’ Guys on the other hand tend to have a confused look on their face. On the dance floor the guys stop mid-moonwalk. They are pondering the lyrics so much.

That, together with their lack of multitasking skills means they cannot think and dance at the same time. This song doesn’t just affect guys in clubs. It affects men everywhere.

Guys on the underground listening to their Ipod going back home to their windmill in Queens Park, London always miss their stop.  They are so busy concentrating on the lyrics and they have a confused look on their face.

When radio DJ Chris Moyles plays that song on the radio, ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it’ guys driving their cars or hopping on their Pogo sticks have to pull over. They have that same confused look on their face too.


If a police man pulls him over ‘alloalloallo, why have you stopped pogo…ing young man?’ The bobby immediately hears the beautiful lyrics that Katy is singing. ‘i kissed a girl and i liked it’

Then policeman and pogo stick driver would stop and listen both with that confused look on their faces.

Katy Perry the reason that song makes guys face furrow and limit us to the single task of standing on the spot is because. WE WANT DETAILS.

Katy, why on earth would you vaguely tell us you kissed a girl and she liked it? The questions all men have but only I am brave enough to ask are as follows:

This girl you kissed what was her name? what colour was her hair? Was she foreign and exotic? Did she kiss you back?  Did she like it? How do you know she liked it? Could you just tell? Was she from London? The most beautiful girl comes from London you see.

I’m still standing at the rue de la blah blah blah by the way. I haven’t gone done the steps of saint Michel metro station quite yet.

je ne regretterien

It is incredible that two girls kiss and it changes the dynamics of a guy’s day. It sometimes changes the dynamics of a man’s entire blog, which as of last week up to this point was getting upwards of nine thousand readers each week (thanks by the way) .

for those expecting something more profound from me this week I have no regrets. I am Edith Piaf. ‘non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regretterien.’

If I were in charge of the news I would make sure this was mentioned. ‘Our main story tonight in the six o clock news, Two women were spotted smooching at the rue de la blah blah blah, Paris.  Nigel Page and Justine Laycock who won 56 million on the euro millions lottery would phone me.

Hi m to the izzo… we saw your story on the news. We must be the three luckiest people on earth. I would agree. The three of us were so lucky.

Them because they won all that money and me because I saw two women kiss in Paris near the rue de la blah blah blah. Mr Page would phone again the next day and say ‘actually mo… you are more lucky.’

I would nod my head and sing just two words in response ‘Barbara Streisand.’ Then I would hang up.

I Want to Live in a Windmill… In North London

I hate to sound like the Spice Girls but ‘should I tell you want I want… what I really really want….?’

I want to live in a windmill. When people talk about joining the housing ladder it is always to buy a flat or a house.

Not me. I want a windmill. I don’t want a windmill in some obscure part of the British Isles either. I love London. My preference would be for one smack bang in the middle of a residential street in London.

I’m usually quite south London-centric so just for a change I think my ideal location would be say Queen’s Park, North London.

Oh My Days

My friend recently banned me from saying the overused London-centric phrase ‘Oh my days’, which is used to convey surprise. So when the sale completed and I got the keys to my windmill in Queens Park I wouldn’t say that.

Instead I would say ‘oh my one seventh of a week.’ You see I am very loyal to my promises especially those I make to close friends.

If you are reading this and you have aspirations to clamber the housing ladder my opinion is consider the windmill option. Everyone buys a house or a flat, be different.

When the estate agent begins to bleat about the a two bedroom flat with two ensuite bathrooms… then whinny’s about the spacious front garden of the house of your apparent dreams say nothing.

Just silently pull your chair back, stand up straight and tall like… a windmill. Then wave your arms in a circumference- like the blades of a windmill. The estate agent will know what you mean. A customer, particularly one that is buying a property is always correct.

Your partner might begin to get embarrassed and try to get you to sit down and stop spinning your arms like a windmill. Just say… ‘no love its okay’ and continue. Spin those arms my friend, spin. But I digress…

skype, text, tweet

Once I move into MY windmill, in the middle of a residential street in Queen’s Park, North London the next thing I would do is find new friends. I would get rid of my existing friends. Why?

Well I would need new friends. Friends on my wavelength.Friends that know where I am coming from.Friends that live in windmills too.

There are not too many windmills in London so I would have to go global in my search for friends. When we find one another we would email, msn, skpe, text, tweet, talk and holla at one another on a regular basis.

If I have time off and visit one of my windmill-having-friends abroad -say in italy- perhaps I would notice the paintwork is chipping or there is a damp spot on the ceiling of the windmill. I would say definitely say something, i would say ‘mama-mia’ in a souf’ london/italian accent.

After all we windmill-having-friends must keep up with the Jones’ you know. The Joneses own very well kept windmills you see.

When I returned to North London I would make a conference telephone call and sing down the phone to them. ‘bling bling….’ That is the sound of the phone ringing.

‘Hola… bonjour… nihao… g’day mate… bawoni…  da…  shalom’ That is the sound of my windmill friends from around the globe answering their phones. I would break into song ‘People of the world… spice up your windmills… every boy every girl… spice up you windmills.’

Will Smith

They in turn inspired by the emotion I put into the chorus would grab their yellow pages and they would do just that. Get their painting touched up, do up the garden, laminate the floor, replace the kitchen perhaps. Spice up their windmill.

Living in a windmill, in the middle of a residential street in Queens Park North London would be great. The windmill would have to be five minutes walk from the underground though and have great transport links. Then the location would be desirable.

I would be like the King of Queens Park.

I suppose a slight twist on the whole Fresh Prince of Bel-Air situation with actor Will Smith.

Gosh just think perhaps my path could follow the same trajectory as Will Smith’s.

In my first movie I could save the world, all from the comfort of my windmill. The movie would be called Independence Windmill.


Then I could make another movie about lots of mini windmills trying to overtake north London. I would save the people of North London of course. Folk from Enfield to Hampstead to Finsbury Park would rejoice and have swagger once more. It would be called i-windmill. That would be so cool.

Did I say I hate to sound like the Spice Girls. That was not entirely accurate. I love to sound like the Spice Girls… Especially… all of them…

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna………… I wanna, really, really, really, really, wanna, windmill…

How Much Do You Hate Me

How Much Do You Hate Me… Very
I Find This… Scary

I’m Listening To Songs By Katy… Perry
Mariah Carey… NenehCherry
I Really Like Their Songs They Make Me… Merry

If I Run Will You Chase Me… Tom And Jerry
Jim Carrey… Halle Berry

I Really Hate To Fly I Find It… Scary
So I Travel 40 days 40 nights On A… Ferry

I Guess You Want To Know My Name Like Hilson… Kerry
When I Am Blue I Wear Blue Like John… Terry
I’m done… You Need More Words… Go Get A Diction… ary