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Jane Bond?

I just heard some so-called breaking currraaaaazy news: Gillian Anderson  (of The X-Files fame) has announced that she would be more than happy to have a sex change and become James Bond. Or perhaps just remain as she is and play Jane Bond; that would make more sense. Or…well…whatever – she wants to take over the role and now people are freaking out.

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Some have taken to punching the air and gasping “woooo yeah double oh heaven!” or words to that effect – but from what I can see most comments from flabbergasted fans have been filled with the typical internet-ish sort of vitriol:*

“…how can a lady run, jump, and make grunting sounds?  Only men can do that! Don’t even get me started on shooting guns and storming out of offices. Keep out of our domain, will ya?!” 

“…women shouldn’t play agents, it’s just not believable – apart from that red headed one in the alien files thing. She was okay, I guess.”

“…the name’s Bond, James Bond – not Jane. Jane is a different name to James. Get your own movie franchise, and name – women have taken everything and now they are trying to take our names too. Despicable.”

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Now I of course, couldn’t care less. And not because I am some sort of spectacular progressive or a constant warrior against discrimination at every single turn (I am to some extent but I have other things like bacon and TV going on which take priority), the thing is that…well…I couldn’t give a flying fuck about James Bond. At all. 

I suppose I do think it odd that a woman would play the role of a man, and that after so many years it would suddenly change – but not enough for me to kick off and become red in the face. Take the Ghostbusters reboot for an example – it looks dreadful. That’s my opinion and I don’t need to dance on a table and scream it from the rooftops so people know it…I can mention it and then move along. Same here.

Or if someone told me there was going to be an all men Sex and the City for some bizarre reason…I would politely reply with: “oh really…hmm, how interesting” – which would be good manners code for: “I couldn’t give a shit, why are you boring me with this information?”

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I mean, is it a big deal? Was it even worthy of this rambled non-sensical article? Are there not more important things to worry about? Like making sure you don’t have holey socks, nailing small talk with the person at the supermarket checkout, or well…anything else really. 

James Bond is an action film, something you watch if there is nothing else on, if you are stuck on a long haul flight, or if you are a die-hard fan. It’s not awful, but let’s not pretend it is something sacred and that if a lady were to play the role hell would freeze over and David Cameron would go skipping along with Donald Trump dealing out free marshmallows for everyone no matter their race or tax band.

Simply put it’s just a movie! And she likely won’t get the role anyway, after all it was mostly suggested in fun…but if she does and it pisses you off: just don’t watch it. 

Oh and it should go without saying that these are not “real” quotes – as they were too depressing and depraved. Instead they are an entertaining amalgamation of the stuff I read. You’re welcome. No really, it’s nothing. Fine send some cake please.*

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5 Stages to a Job Search

To those who don’t know I am back in the UK:

Now this is as wonderful as you may expect; I’m seeing family and old friends, walking around familiar streets and experiencing our tropical climate – however it is also becoming increasingly frustrating. This is for one reason and one reason only: I’m on a hunt for a job, and a good one if you please.

So for your entertainment and my own catharsis I thought I would note down some of the stages to this job search so far – perhaps it may curse me forever, or perhaps (hopefully) the universe will decide to cut me break after this divine offering to the Blogosphere Gods.

Well we can always hope…anyway, here we go – in at number one:

1. Looking through the amazing opportunities:

(ENDLESS SCROLLING AND FUCKING CLICKING)

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This is great at first as you can look through all of the wonderful positions and delight at how many there are! “I thought there were no jobs?” you chuckle with a moronic sneer to yourself, as if everyone was over-reacting and that somehow you are a genius who will slide into one of these roles so easily it’ll be as if you were always there…

Very quickly you begin to picture yourself in these roles – aaah yes there it is…an amazing image of a suited you dancing merrily in your mind’s eye at a workplace where everyone thinks you are hilarious. Unsatisfied you continue to design this world with further complexity…you will no doubt become a high-flyer, there will be lots of managers saying you did a great job, and everyone will just give you constant high fives for no real reason other than they want to be best pals, and…

But you have to stop your daydreaming at some stage or you will never get to the application process (this takes longer than others to get around to…)

2. Writing out the fine tapestry of your life:

(RE-WRITING YOUR RESUME AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN)

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I blasted off 15 applications on my first day back in the UK…how? Well it was easy, I just found the jobs I liked and sent them a resume – case closed, that’s that! I then slapped my hands together and congratulated myself on a job well done with a sugary tea and a few chocolate brownies. Sounds great so far, I know. 

But this isn’t always the case – actually it usually isn’t for any of the jobs you truly want. You see these corporate devils don’t want your CV (they are allergic to the sight of Microsoft Word I suppose), and instead want you to fill in the exact information that is on your existing resume into their own little boxes. Cue typing, and scrolling, typing and scrolling – until you are so bored of your own life story that you begin to wonder if you should bother in the first place. And you probably wouldn’t if it wasn’t for the whole needing money to feed, clothe and shelter you thing. 

But eventually you get to the next hurdle…albeit with a sore clicking finger.

3. Patiently waiting for your dreams to come true…

(EXPERIENCING BOREDOM, EXHAUSTION, AND RAGE AT THE SAME TIME)

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It is a well known and scientifically proven fact by the University of Job-Seekers Anonymous that time passes by at a tiny fraction of the rate it would ordinarily when you are waiting for a response about the job interview you just went on. Of course while you are waiting for the answer to what could be a huge section of your later best selling autobiography the people at the office will just be milling around…making cups of tea…talking about weekend plans and whatever else. You are not their priority. Hard to get your head around, but a sad reality.

This information doesn’t particularly help. You are still sat there stressing out and unable to focus on little else, thinking over all of the stupid things you said and all the tremendously impressive things you would have said if you were to be given a second chance…you also eat and drink constantly with little to no enjoyment, in fact grazing would be a better word.

This leads you to begin feeling like a big fat fucking moose as you fucking…argh, why are you such a big useless loser who – OOH AN EMAIL! YES! HERE WE GO FUTURE! 

4. Not getting the job this time around…

(BEING TOLD IN A LOVELY WAY THAT YOU SUCK AND SHOULD NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE)

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Perhaps you weren’t right for the position, or you weren’t qualified/experienced enough, maybe the owner got someone they knew in or they hired internally…there are many reasons you may have not got it this time…but only one sticks in your mind and torments both your living and sleeping mind.

YOU ARE THE WORST LAHOOOOOSER EVER – IF YOU WERE TO SHOWER FOUR TIMES A DAY YOU STILL COULDN’T WASH THE LAHOOOOSR-ISHNESS OFF YOURSELF!

Or something like that. My point is your mind can be a cruel cruel thing…it is unrelenting and with each email and phone call your resolve only weakens and your lack of confidence grows. It’s pretty grim, but you should…

5. Recognise you are a great person, and that the right job will come along soon.

(HATE YOUR LIFE, AND ALL YOUR PAST CHOICES)

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This is where I am at right now, or at least somewhere between these two polar opposites – things look bleak, and despite the fact it is sure to work its way out somehow/someway eventually…this offers very little comfort. 

So drop some inspiration in the comments…a stage 6 if you will – it’s really what I need to hear right now! And who knows, we could help some others feel better about their job search at the same time!

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Lizard People

Even those that know me on a friend of a friend’s friend’s sister’s cousin sort of basis will know that I am never one to go for conspiracy theories. I get all I need from watching X-Files reruns thank you very much…and as a result don’t feel the need to entertain any of those typical slack-jawed yokels who are forever claiming they were anally probed by visitors from outer space.

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Let me say this plainly so the yokels understand it: E.T. has no interest in putting his lighty up finger anywhere near your grossly hairy buttocks – so stop sullying my pristine image of him with your local-news ready tales of lies and mistruths. It’s not a big government cover-up, it’s just your moonshine induced imagination. And anyway if they were to touch base on Earth they would likely spend their time doing useful things like making lasagna and trying out all the different settings on a jacuzzi – not heading to the middle of nowhere to perform anus experiments, so stop it. Just please…stop. 

Okay with that cleared up let’s move on to the next topic of the day:

Lizard People destroying the world through politics/dirty dealings:

As we all know by now essentially every politician on the face of the earth is in fact a lizard in disguise. They are untrustworthy by their very design; paid off by those which they should really be lobbying against, and also they eat flies which is really not cool if you ask me. Unfortunately this is not some sort of scene from a Spiderman comic – so we can’t just close it shut or throw it away – we have to face it head on as it is very real. I suppose just like paper we could set them on fire but that would be barbaric. Better to have a no-holds barred fight to the death with sharpened sticks if anything.

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But hmmm, they’d never go for it but…sorry, getting sidetracked.

It’s just never have I had so little faith in my government or in my own people – perhaps it has always been this way and I am only now realising it fully but…gone are the days of the noble politician who is truly invested in the people he/she is supposed to serve, gone are the times where those in government would fight for basic human rights, and gone are the days when those in office didn’t wear life-size human suits to cover their scales. By the way I’m not even sure if the ‘lizard’ thing is a metaphor or if it is literal…both would make sense. I’m sure I’ve seen flashes of red in both Hilary and Trump’s eyes – COINCIDENCE?! I think not…the truth is out there. 

The thing is instead of having actual human integrity these lizards are just bumming every corporation who will pay for their holiday to the bahamas, or who will teach them how to set up a humongously crooked bank account abroad. And they do it in front of us, and are then seemingly outed, and, and, and – nothing!

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Because even when a nice human comes along (Jeremy Corbyn/Bernie Sanders), or who knows perhaps even a kind-hearted lizard (let’s not be speciesist here – this is a safe place for all) we don’t allow them in. We as the people, us slack-jawed yokels, cannot allow too much change at once. We have came to know our place at the bottom, and it would be uncomfortable to knock those at the top from their ivory towers. We can’t trust those with crazy views such as “let’s take care of each other” and instead go with those with experience…even if said experience is waging war and fucking up the whole fucking world all for the sake of a few extra gold bullions in their personal safes. Urgh, it’s just frustrating – and I am starting to wish aliens would land and take me away from all this – but those like Corbyn and Sanders prove one thing…apathy such as mine is easy, it is standing up for what is right in the face of adversity which takes true strength.

And we certainly need more of that in this world. 

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Hobbit Holes (N. Zealand)

New Zealand ~ Matamata– 2016 / Middle Earth ~ Hobbiton – 2016

If you are a person who is deserving of friends and life in general then you probably love The Lord of the Rings. If you don’t then you are likely the person at parties who people try to avoid; and/or you enjoy boring said people to death by talking about different types of cling-film and the different uses it can provide.. It appears obvious to suggest this but please seek professional help – you are a certified creepozoid.

Thankfully I am not one of these people. In fact I am entirely enchanted by the world of LOTR...it certainly seems a lot better than the real world, a place jam-packed with subway maps, timetables, and mortgage payment plans. I mean why would a person want to live in an apartment building when they could live in a Hobbit hole? Why would you fly with Easy Jet when you could ride on a Great Eagle? Why would…well the list goes on; and every question is as necessary as it is ridiculous. Call it market research or perhaps just fan-boy admiration but I had to go and look at Tolkien’s world for myself.

And so I headed to New Zealand to live out this little dream: AND WHEN I SAY LITTLE DREAM, I MEAN HUGE.

Once I’d arrived in Auckland I noticed straight away how polite and friendly people were; they would say things with a smile, would engage in humorous conversation with total strangers, and give help without any expectation of anything in return. Lovely. They were not however Hobbits…they weren’t even elves for that matter, and this was most disappointing. They were just plain old men, who I had learned from the trifecta of books, films, and Top-Trumps cards, are the most susceptible to the ring’s powers and not to be trusted. They make great burgers though, so that’s one pretty decent bonus.

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I decided to look further afield – and booked a day tour to Hobbiton; the land of Bilbo Baggins, The Green Dragon Pub, and the pitter-patter of countless hairy feet (hopefully).

The landscape during the journey was breathtaking. Despite the stranger next to me not sharing the arm rest, and the faint wiff of egg constantly stinging my nostrils I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a ride in a bus as much. There were rolling green hills as far as my eyes could see, deep blue skies strewn with powerful clouds, and flashes of wildlife which I had never seen before (no, not dragons). It actually reminded me of home, of England…aside from the palm trees of course.

Once I got there I was overcome with excitement, and so were the other members of the group – half of which confessed they had never seen or read The Lord of the Rings…this surprised me but I worked out rather quickly they must be under the hold of some sort of enchantment. Perhaps born from magic, but more likely the effect of the wonderful luscious hills of New Zealand they had witnessed on the way over here. But that wasn’t to be the end of the day’s spectacles…

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We spent the day winding through the pathways of Hobbiton, hearing amusing and surprising little factoids from the lovely tour guide:

“…the party scene took two days and they used a low percent alcohol ale so the cast wouldn’t get as drunk…”

“…many of the supporting cast in Hobbiton were just the cast member’s children, who were staying here anyway during the filming…”

“…there are actually no Hobbits. They are not real. John please, stop asking…wait…stop crying…please!”

Wasn’t a huge fan of that last one. But after the extensive tour, and many many photos to document the once in a lifetime experience…

…we retired to the Green Dragon Pub; the famous haunt of Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry.  This was fortunate timing as the heavens had just begun to open, and soon the muddy pathways would become sludge – so off we scurried as fast as we could, all the way to the inviting warmth of the pub’s wood fire. Here we were told that due to it being “Good Friday” they were not allowed to sell us the lovely amber ale and dark stout…what exactly was good about that totally escapes me, but it was with a sigh of relief that I then heard we would be given one for free. Technically they are not selling it, so perhaps that is okay. She didn’t sound sure, but I couldn’t have cared less and grabbed it before she changed her mind!

On the way back to the city I popped in my tunes (The Lord of the Rings’ soundtrack as planned) and took pleasure in the beautiful scenery once more, which was now a fiery orange sky as the impending night battled with what was left of the day. It had been everything I had wanted*, and more…and there was a joy to finally doing something which I had dreamed about for so long.

Actually I say everything, but I would have certainly loved to see some Hobbits. So it’s more like “everything I had wanted, but less.” Despite this it was absolutely spectacular, and if you ever get the chance, GO!

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Useless tuk-tuk Tour (Cambodia)

Cambodia ~ Siem Reap – 2016

I know it’s a little bit easy and uninspiring to do this, but I still feel it’s always a decent option to take a tour when you are in a new foreign country. I’m aware this goes against all of the present wisdom which suggests you should just cycle off into the sunset without a map and perhaps you will stumble to the moon or make friends with a talking frog who regales you with all of the native knowledge you never thought you would learn. I know that, but I am still standing by my stance. Tours are okay, okay?

And no you don’t have to pull your socks up to your knees, or wear Crocs to be allowed in the group…any age can apply and these are simply suggested uniform items as opposed to mandatory.

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Anyway aside from that this tours are a great way to swot up on history and hidden parts of the land’s culture; and there’s also a comfort (especially for the solo traveller) in going with a few other people. You’re a lot less likely to be jumped and glassed in the face as some nameless rogue runs away with your passport or currency wallet – and anyway even if that was to happen the OAPs would without doubt back you up, clubbing the assailant with their walking canes until he cries for forgiveness and/or offers cut price beer. Some of that medication they take is powerful X-Men shit, I tell you truthfully!

So in short yet again, tours are okay. Let’s get on with it.  

With this in mind, and my overriding fear of Cambodian dead babies still ingrained in my core…I knew that the only way to go would be to have a nice tour of the nearby temples (Angkor Wat, Angkor…I forget now; ESSENTIALLY THE TOMB RAIDER PLACES THOUGH) and perhaps befriend an old widow or two in the process; we could play bingo afterwards, or I could learn how to knit. Who needs a talking frog when you have (imaginary) old widow friends? Exactly. If things went to plan this was going to be a dream…

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I ended up setting up the tour through the hotel after reading horrendous story after horrendous story of how horribly miserable a time people had experienced by rolling up to tour companies on the spot. This is actually a top tip because these days with the booking sites, Trip Advisor and whatever else, places are really afraid of suffering due to a bad review. So if I am driven off a cliff, or made to dance naked in return for the safe return of my camera during the tour then I won’t be so happy, and traumatised people don’t make for very positive reviewers. So they only try and go with those they trust, makes sense. YA SEE! GOOD!

The fella turned up early, and he was friendly enough – we shook hands, and I thought “why aren’t your hands sweaty, it’s boiling here?” but didn’t say that because a.) he had limited English and b.) that would be a very very odd thing to say to a person upon your first meeting. The reason for the early start was that I am white. Whiter than the whitest whites they always brag about on cleaning commercials…I am ready and willing (for a fee) to be a spokesperson for such advertisements – “WANT YOUR SHEETS WHITER THAN WHITE” then point to me. It’d be great. They’d make millions. Call me!

The guy, Vrim…or Vrom, no…Vhrin – V. Let’s just call him V, found it pretty funny when I told him we are on a timer and then pointed to my skin. I didn’t want to be out all day in the baking hot sun, and the factor 50 I had lathered on my skin could only do so much…it’s not magic after all. It doesn’t suddenly turn me into a glistening beach ready day walker, sadly. 

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It was immediately obvious that it was just going to be myself on the tour, as my new pal V pointed to an empty tuk-tuk as opposed to a cosy air-con bus. What’s a tuk-tuk? Well to those that don’t know it’s essentially a motorbike that someone has attached a little back wagon bit for to wheel people rather precariously about in. Think…Julius Ceaser’s chariot but a present day economy version. Fun at first mind, but soon I felt too exposed and unprotected from the Tattoine-esque climate.

On the journey I saw many other bewildered tourist faces in the same situation. Some of them nodded as if to say: “oh, you too huh?” And then it was back to eyes forward as we slipped around on the seat and gasped for air in the thick hot wind (I have never experienced hot wind until Cambodia). The tour as it was wasn’t exactly a tour…at all. It was just a guy, who again was very pleasant, just pointing at things on the way every so often:

“That is museum…that is museum…and that is museum…”

Well yeah V mate I figured that as they all say museum on the front in English. But thanks anyway! Around the temples he would stop outside and then hand up a hammock in his tuk-tuk and take a rest shooing me away with a smile to have a look around…here I was met with other guys offering tours of the temple…I thought I was already on one! Whaaat?! Once I had seen enough of one spot we’d go on to the next one, sometimes he would offer little tid-bits on the way which was largely lost to mumbles due to the fact he was wearing a thick visor…

“…hummmbleee-ummmm-gummm-king temphugksosos-the king…”

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And for some reason this made ME feel bad, because at least he was giving some effort – so I would just reply with oooohs and aaaahhhs, just repeating back anything which I gathered into a statement and hoping that would satisfy him. Something completely moronic like: “aaah the king…so that’s why it’s a good one. The king would get a good one.” 

I would sound like a pandering knobhead even if I was talking to a three year old, or a dog with mental difficulties – never mind a guy just trying his best with limited knowledge.

As it turns out all you need in Cambodia, and south-east Asia at large is a bike. If you have a bike then you can give a tour. I know most will tell you that perhaps you should have studied ancient history at university, or at least be well read in the subjects and have a deep interest in it…but no. That is certainly an option, but the other option is to just get a bike – attach a seat to the back – and then charge for tours. It’s basically the same fucking thing, don’t be ignorant please.

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Asian Rohan?

The Black Temple, or Baan Si Dum, is essentially thrown in as a “well it’s close by so why not look at it anyway?” sort of thing by the tour guide…or at least that’s how it felt…

BUT ACTUALLY I ENDED UP LOVING IT.

Errr…perhaps I even preferred it to its more famous cousin…hmmm…by the way excuse the rant about modern architecture, I don’t really know what got into me – well boring box buildings is the reason, but still. 

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Fantasy Land…

Following up yesterday’s post here is a very short video of my time at Chiang Rai’s Wat Rong Khun…also known as The White Temple. It’s hard to really describe as there is SO MUCH going on in one relatively small spot…take a look…

Still not sure what to make of it all!

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Chiang Mai…RIDICULOUS Temples

Absolutely blown away by the temples here in Thailand…truly amazing. I feel like all of my dreams as a little boy are just coming to life in these structures (actually I have never changed, but I’m supposed to pretend that dragons and magic aren’t cool now for some reason)…

Well anyway,  here’s a little look of what it has to offer…and trust me, it is definitely cool:

Apologies for the low quality, taken on a phone…sans selfie stick – don’t believe in ’em. 

But hope you enjoyed it all the same! More to come, probably.

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Drowsy Layover (Malaysia)

Malaysia ~ Kuala Lumpur – 2016

You often make bad decisions whilst travelling; especially so in hindsight. And of course by you I really mean me…and by me I mean a great lumbering buffoon who is simply trying to blame someone else for all his problems, or at the very least involve you in these calamities. Awfully sorry for dragging you down into these dark depths with me, and I do hope you’ll forgive me as we fall into the abyss of it all together hand in hand…it’s just that I don’t like the thought that I am just a sole wandering moron devoid of any grasp of how to make good choices (even if that is strictly true according to my stories). 

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You see the other day I could have just flown directly from South Korea to Thailand. That seems normal, that seems like the thing that a person should do if they are wanting to fly from South Korea to Thailand…they book a flight and then…they follow that up by taking said flight from Thailand to South Korea. 

Why is this even a fucking story, I hear you ask? Well…let’s get to it shall we…

The things is, instead of doing the aforementioned typical and sane thing – I opted for something which to most would be absolutely unthinkable (and rightly so). I decided to defy conventional wisdom and make a short(ish) stop in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia…after all why not see another place, and find out what it has to offer? The idea came to me from an article I’d read where this fella intentionally gets unusually tedious and long-way-around-ish transfers…this guy is extreme, having day trips in Canada, breakfast in Italy, a few hours shopping in Paris and – well you get the point, he goes through all of that inconvenience just to see a little more. But I thought it was pretty cool, actually I was blown away by it, and he instantly became a hero in my eyes. 

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So after following some of his tips I found my first long layover would be in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia…haven’t ever been there so, wonderful! I’m already well on my way (or so I thought)! Oh, and about seven or eight hours! That’s enough time to have a good look around! I can see the sights and meet the people, try the food and –

KNOCK KNOCK – hi, don’t mean to be a negative Nancy or a cautious Chris, but shouldn’t you check the time you get in on the night because if – SHHHHHHHHHHH! Just because John, you could end up – SHHHHHHH SELF, SHHHHH!

So yeah, that was me. Not even sparing a thought to consider how crucial the actual arrival time could be with such delicate arrangements. I actually ended up realising it at the last second, but still felt positive…despite the fact I would be getting in at 22:10…

This wouldn’t have been all that bad, but I didn’t end up getting my bag back until fucking 23:00. What the hell were they doing with it all of that time? I swear they had been having a little five a side football kick around using my bag as one of the goalposts, or had perhaps been rifling through my possessions hoping to stumble across my stash of treasure (you’ll never get it you dirty bastards I’ll take it to my grave!) but whatever it was it meant that I was now very pushed for time. After all, it’s a 30 or 40 minute journey into the city itself.

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Despite how infeasible it all looked, I thought I would ask the lady at the desk anyway: “Hello there!” – hai sir. (They say sir a lot in Malaysia and I think I like it, makes me feel rather regal and important, rather than smelly and worthless – which is what you truly are after a long haul flight)…“When is the last train back to the airport from the city please?” 00:30…”Ahh – do you think it would be crazy for me to go now – and then come back?” Very crazy sir. “Oh.” Very, very crazy. “Got it – it’s crazy…because the thing is I have a flight at 7am but -” 

Sir, it’s too crazy with bag and distance of this, and time is crazy…it’s just – “Okay yeah, yup, thank you, got it…” I said with a sigh and the best fake smile I could muster.

And so it was there and then that my little dream died. It was probably the most polite version of a dream dying ever to come about, but it was still a dream dying. It was also insufferably hot at 28 degrees, and the air was thick and grossly stifling…sticky sweat meant everything stuck to everything, and I had to lumber about the airport like a lost cause until the morning. It felt like there had been an apocalypse. 

That is until I realised there was a 24 hour McDonalds. I don’t remember one of those in Mad Max, so I guess it was only right to be thankful. I almost crumbled at the three or four in the morning mark, seriously considered getting a taxi driver to ride me around just to make time pass in a more interesting fashion…but YouTube just about did the job instead…

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Anyway sir, let’s put that in the lessons learned book, shall we sir?

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Cruelty in China – Animal Show

Whilst clearing out the clutter from my computer I came across some old files…some videos I had stored away within a folder within a folder. They were videos showing some rather cruel scenes in a Chinese zoo’s ‘Animal Show’. All is explained in the video:

Bizarre, I just don’t get it. But what do you think?

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Please buy my collection of stories! Get it in paperback here – or on Kindle here! ALL proceeds go towards Macmillan Cancer Support!

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