You Know Who

Normally when I write a blog, I try to discuss a light subject, insert humour, and above all make the piece an enjoyable one to read.

However, in recent times I have been asked on numerous occasions about a subject which has had a great impact on those involved – much of it negative. For that reason, I have chosen to respond via a blog that, on this occasion, is serious.

Rather than immediately pass judgement, I will first remind readers of the situation.

Say you’re a man earning a decent amount of money at your trade – some may argue too much – and you’re fairly happy. Everything’s going well and you have a pretty good reputation.

You know who I’m talking about.

But then an opportunity comes up. Well, not so much an opportunity, but the chance to shake up your personal life. One conversation has now led to bigger things and, rather than battle the new elephant in the room, you choose to go with it and, thus, undergo a radical lifestyle change.

You know who I’m talking about.

At first it seems innocent: after all, nobody knows what you’re doing. But after a while, very subtle hints are dropped not necessarily about what you’re doing, but about the identity of the man at the focal point of what is now a dark mystery.

You know who I’m talking about.

Pretty soon, the rumours are swirling and, suddenly, you’re in trouble. You’ve managed for years without people knowing; now, people could find out. And if the truth comes out, it won’t just affect you, but your company, your family, your friends; everything in life.

You know who I’m taking about.

Legal action is taken to have your identity remain a secret. But then, one day, your name is mentioned in connection with the story. Pretty soon, it’s a matter of when, as opposed to if, it’s revealed that you are the man at the centre of the story. Eventually, you give up and accept whatever comes your way. It was you all along.

You must know who I’m talking about.

I’m not going to pass judgement on the story that led to the controversy. I will instead look at what aggravated the situation: legal action.

Stories like this have been in the news many times before. On this occasion, however, the injunction has led to a guessing game about the man’s identity, in turn creating more interest – and making the man in question look far worse. That’s the story, if you think about it. The controversy may have been the subject, but the injunction made it front page news.

Had it come out one day that this man was responsible, it would have resulted in some unwelcome press. But I doubt that the criticism would have been as bad as it ended up being due to the injunction.

The man in question has since been trying to move on. He hopes to get life back to the way things were. And I hope he does: despite the controversy, he had a happy, successful life before all this happened, and it would be sad for him to be remembered primarily for this incident.

The good news for the man in question is that, after a while, the papers lose interest and slowly, the story fades away. But the memories don’t. Indeed, the regret will be felt for a long time, and the subject will always remain a taboo one to discuss with him.

In conclusion, then, I believe that the legal action made this a bigger story than it was, and may serve as a deterrent to others about using an injunction in the future. And, although the man has come out of the situation looking worse than he had beforehand, the hope is that he can move on and, hopefully, won’t be remembered solely for the story that dominated news headlines, and the resultant mystery surrounding his identity.

Speaking of which, you do know who I have been talking about, don’t you?

Of course, it was . . . Ben Collins being revealed as The Stig.

What, you thought I meant someone else?

5p

The best thing about a blog is that you can write about anything. It could be a major news item; it could be something that matters to you but few others; or it could be something that, in the grand scheme of things, is incredibly insignificant. This is one of those blogs.

This blog is about 5p coins. Yes, 5p coins.

Why? Because I tend to keep hold of loose change in the event of needing to use it. Sure, I have a bank card and I use notes, but it’s the miniscule amounts of money that can get you a chocolate bar, a newspaper or a loaf of bread. Okay, notes can do that too, but that’s not the point.

The point is that, when searching through my change in terms of what money I need, I pick out the coins that I’ll need the most. In other words, the coins that matter most; the coins that will be most useful to me. And the coins I rarely pick are 5ps. Because they’re the least useful coins of all.

Think about it. A 1p coin has its uses; after all, when purchasing something for £4.99 or £9.99, you always get a 1p back, so a supermarket needs 1p coins. And, thanks to Deal Or No Deal, possessing/claiming 1p has a slight level of prestige. So, they’re useful.

A 2p coin is useful for kids: if you’ve ever been to an arcade, you’ll have seen the 2p machines, right? It doesn’t matter that whatever money you win is wasted by being put back into the machine, thereby ensuring that, most of the time, you end up with nothing. Two pence pieces are popular, so they are useful.

A 10p coin? Some arcades have 10p machines, but their main use, to me, is this: very rarely will you find an item on sale in a newsagent for less than 10p. There are, however, items that cost around 15p, 17p etc. So, a 10p can help to partially cover these costs.

As for 20p coins? They’re good for just about anything, really. Whether it’s for calling from a phone box, buying a newspaper or getting a Freddo, 20ps tend to either cover the cost of little things, contribute to the purchase of, well, slightly bigger things, or make up the amount of stuff that costs an awkward amount of money. Ever been shopping where it’s come to £7.37? A few 20ps will ensure you’re not rummaging through your bag or pocket (assuming you’ve already paid the 7 quid, of course).

Then, you have 50p coins, £1 and £2 coins. They’re obviously useful, as they can pay for anything of a reasonable size. Notes of £5, £10, £20 and £50 will pay for the more expensive days out at Lidl. And your bank card will cover anything above that (unless you’re in more debt than Greece).

But what about 5ps? It’s only occasionally that you get just 5p back after shopping, and it isn’t a value on Deal Or No Deal. There aren’t any 5p machines in arcades (well, not that I’ve seen, anyway). Very rarely will you get items on sale for 5p in a newsagent’s (and if it is, it’s probably some sort of sweet that’s not in a packet and, thus, won’t exactly be the top choice for a Cadbury’s selection pack at Christmas). Some phone boxes and other things like pool tables, parking meters etc don’t accept 5ps. And the chance of you dropping a load of 5ps on a shop counter to get a few bottles of water and super-size packets of Wotsits – well, it’s unlikely. The coins aren’t even that big; their very shape ensures that they come across as miniscule in value.

Some would disagree, since a few 5ps will contribute to the purchase of a Freddo or the Liverpool Echo. Generally speaking, though, you have to say that a 5p coin has the least number of uses and, thus, is the one I leave aside when going out to do a bit of spending.

But, then again . . . I can think of one, very good use for 5p coins. In fact, as far as I know, no other coin besides a 5p has done this until now. I’m talking about filling up blog space.

Because the subject of whether or not a 5p has its uses in comparison to other coins has given me the opportunity to write a blog about something that is incredibly insignificant.

I now consider 5ps to be very useful.

Tamagotchi

So, the other day I was chatting to friends on Facebook, whilst simultaneously watching a show I’d recorded on the Sky+. In the meantime, I’ve got my MP3 player hooked up to the PC, my mobile phone charging, and my PS3 updating after the latest Sony security disaster (well, not latest now, latest then, but you get the point). And then, suddenly, I had a realisation:

I’ve got to get off the PC, switch off the PS3 and try and get a job.

Seriously, though, I did think about how much things have changed, in terms of technology, over the last few years. I’m only 23, yet it feels like so much has happened in recent times.

When growing up, if I wanted to speak to friends, it would be by seeing them in school, ringing up their house, or the good old fashioned “Is (insert name) coming out?” If I missed a TV show, and we hadn’t videoed it, then it was tough. If you were lucky, someone would tell you what happened. My PC, which seemed advanced at the time, had little besides Word, Excel and Encarta (Wikipedia, but with far less subjects), whilst my Nintendo 64 seemed like the greatest invention ever. And for music, my cassette Walkman was the only portable device available, and even that only came into use on the coach trips to and from Butlin’s (during which the headphones would always break, and/or the batteries would run out).

But now? I can chat to any friends online for free on Facebook, Twitter, e-mail etc, or for close friends, by texting them on my phone. Doesn’t matter whether they’re busy; they’ll receive a message instantly, and usually reply within good time. If I miss a show now, I can record it and watch anytime on Sky+, or even watch it online via BBC iPlayer, ITV Player or 4OD (I’ve never got to grips with Sky Player, which is why I left that out). My PC now has tons of memory and allows me to check e-mails, play games, watch videos, save thousands of tunes; there’s so much you can do. As for my PS3, I can play games, buy games, download films, import songs for use in games, play FIFA with someone who lives nearer to Paddington Bear than me, the aforementioned TV on demand services and loads of other stuff. And music? My MP3 Player currently has over 1,200 songs on it, and barely a fraction of its 20 GB memory has been taken up.

It may seem like I’m just rambling and reliving 1998 (which, in fairness, I am), but there is a point to this. That day, I was frustrated that my Facebook was playing up; that the recorded show had left me with low memory on the Sky+ Planner; that my MP3 player was being undetected by my PC; that my mobile phone had virtually died on me because the battery was that low; and that the time the PS3 was taking to update was . . . well, by PS3 standards, I suppose two hours isn’t that bad. So, I wasn’t a very happy bunny.

But, by remembering what we didn’t have years ago, and how much we can do nowadays, I realised that my problems weren’t so important. In fact, I was grateful. Okay, so it took hours for everything to work; but when you consider that a tamagotchi was the must-have gadget at one time in the not-too-recent past (I never did get one, although I did want it, for no reason other than to look “cool”), a 90-minute wait to listen to Tinie Tempah again was nothing.

So, next time you’re annoyed because you lost your online connection in the last minute of a footie game on the PS3, or because only one episode of Deal Or No Deal was recorded on the Sky+ instead of two, just remember that 15 years ago, the thought of a device with such capabilities was not even a dream; it was unimaginable. And no doubt, in years to come, we’ll be doing more things that are currently not in the realms of possibility. So, be grateful for what we have, take full advantage of the services on offer, and when there are problems, just think back to the time when a kid’s main ambition in life was to own a tamagotchi.

McDonald's Monopoly

Every year I fall for it. I always say I won’t, but the prospect of potential victory lures me in. Even if I know, deep down, that I have no chance.

I’m talking about McDonald’s Monopoly.

When the nights get lighter and the air gets warmer, it begins. Every spring, I get my usual McDonald’s lunch, only to notice that the Monopoly promotion has begun. Collect three orange’s for a HP Notebook? Three pink’s for a Blackberry? Two dark blue’s for half a million pounds? Hell yeah, I’ll agree to that. And so, I’m no longer thinking about enjoying the taste of the food; I’m thinking about collecting enough tokens to get a reward.

Except . . .

Having collected them for four weeks, I have, amongst others,

two Park Lane

’s, three Bow Streets and more Pall Malls than would ever be necessary. I have every one on every street . . . besides the other one that would get me a prize. In other words, two out of three pinks, one blue, two greens. . . you get the idea.

Granted, I have got the option of getting a free cheeseburger and a free apple pie, but I didn’t collect tokens for them. Hey, if I wanted a cheeseburger or an apple pie, I’d buy one. Okay, you could say that about the Blackberry and the Notebook too, but hey, you can’t get a Notebook for a couple of quid. Unless you go to Ryman’s.

Anyway, my point is that, once again, I have been caught up in the dreaded trap of buying more Maccies in the hope of finding tokens. Even though some of the tokens seem to be distributed in such a way that they are far less in number than others.

And, as if the frustration caused by missing Mayfair or

Marlborough Street

isn’t enough, with a month to go before the expiry dates . . . the promotion ends! No, it doesn’t say the date that it finishes on the packets, it kind of just, well, ends. Which means, short of eating McDonald’s every day (look what it did to Morgan Spurlock in Super Size Me), and/or visiting every Maccies in the UK (imagine the petrol costs after doing that), all within a period of about four weeks, one has a very slim chance of actually winning any of the major prizes.

At least I’ve finally learned my lesson, though. As striking as the other M on the packet may seem next April, after six years of failed attempts, I have now realised that it is not worth trying to win on McDonald’s Monopoly. Granted, I’ll still be tucking into items such as Chips and Chicken McNuggets every now and then, but I won’t buy them purely to get those colourful little tokens.

Until it starts again . . .