This Is Me

Ten days in and Movember has finally turned ginger. And yes, it did just happen at 3.54pm today. I am so, so tempted to shave it off. Mainly because it makes me look like a tit. But you seem to be amused by it. So far I have been compared to Rufus Hound, Keith Lemon and half the village people. The top half I presume. It's a tough decision.

Is This Me?

From 7 Reasons comes this picture. It looks like me. But it isn't me. Anyone know who it is? It has 'book sequel' written all over it.

Edit: In fact, I am so sure this looks like me I am going to post it to my facebook profile and see if anyone picks up on it or not.

Edit 2: It took 42 seconds before someone commented 'This isn't you is it?' #Experimentfail

Introducing Roughneck Vinnie

Something rather odd happened to me this morning. I suppose I knew it was coming. I had read about this kind of thing happening to people like me. People who examine their moustache in the reflection of an office window. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Not that I didn't feel I was ready. I was. I am. It was just...unexpected.

I, Jonathan Lee, was asked to appear in a film. Or at least that is what I assumed I was being asked when the bloke started talking to me about The Hot Potato, "a 'caper' movie in the great British tradition of The Italian Job and The Wrong Arm of the Law". I assumed he was lining me up for the part of Roughneck Vinnie, a gangster living the high life in Fulham, driven by thoughts of revenge over his stolen bicycle. But, as I snapped back to reality from thoughts of red carpets and appearances on Friday Night with Jonathan Ross, I realised that the bloke still hadn't mentioned Roughneck Vinnie. He hadn't even mentioned bicycles. In fact he wasn't talking about the plot at all. He was talking about money. And rather than talking about how much he was going to pay me, he seemed to be asking me how much I was prepared to give him. I bet Jason Statham never had to put up with this crap.

After telling me that he would love it if I gave him a few thousand pounds (or "get involved" as he phrased it) the bloke walked away, leaving me very much alone with my thoughts, moustache and an envelope. I opened the envelope to find the above. The Hot Potato cast list. A list, I think we can all agree, I should be on. It's not a bad list. Ray Winstone is on it. He's quite good. As is Michael Clarke Duncan. The thing is all these people aren't really in the cast at all. They are just reading the script. Which, I assume, basically means the script has been posted to their agents. I was more than a little disappointed. I was quite a lot disappointed. I don't want to invest in something that can't guarantee me Ray Winstone. Especially something called The Hot Potato which brings back painful memories of primary school music lessons. Lessons in which we had to pass a tambourine around in a circle and if the music stopped when we held it we had to stand up and make some sort of rhythmical routine. No. If you are going to make such approaches to me on Victoria Street you are going to need a better film name, have Ray Winstone confirmed and signed up (or a photo of Sandra Bullock that I can keep) and guarantee me the safe return of my bicycle. I don't think that is too much to ask.

Thirty Days To Look Like Daniel Day-Lewis

My previous post was annoying me. Everytime I logged in I was trying to kiss myself. Lacking the necessary narcissistic qualities, it made me uncomfortable. So I am glad that we all have something else to stare at now. Me. Now, I realise the above moustache doesn't look very realistic. That's because it's fake. This is about to change though. My friend Rachel (who incidentally writes this non-moustache related blog here) decided that I should grow the real thing. I suspect many girls also think the same. So I will. I am going to take part in Movemeber - the now annual moustache growing event in aid of The Prostate Cancer Charity. I dare say I will be updating you with my progress here (unless it goes ginger), but you can also follow the growth of something beautiful on the Movember site. As things stand, I am most inspired by the moustachio works of Daniel Day-Lewis. This is what I am going for. Until I change my mind next Wednesday.

Oh, I also have to find myself a Mo Sista. Apparently I am a Mo Man. I am not entirely sure what a Mo Sista is required to do, but I imagine moral support and stroking are in there somewhere. You can apply below. Thanks.

Ladies Only

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This week has been a bit mental. And surreal. As a result, I have yet again been lax when it comes to updating this blog. I feel especially bad since I promised there would be things to read on here yesterday. There weren't and you rightly complained. I don't break promises twice in two days though and so I am living up to the promise I made yesterday.

To be honest, I don't have to know whether you join in or not. Some things are best left not said. On the other hand I am available if you require personal tuition. X

Make Time. Read Blog.

I once did something very silly. I told someone to start a blog. Now, I admit that the silliness of this move may not be immediately apparent, so let me explain. There is only so much time left in the world. I don't know how much time exactly - my Cub Scouts handbook was particularly vague on this subject - but I imagine it to be somewhere between 16 hours and 2 million years. As a result we only have so much time to do things. Like brush our teeth. Ignore 'reality' television. And read blogs. This blog. By recommending someone else starts a blog gives them a piece of the world's time; and thus gives you less time to read my blog. Sorry about that. It was a badly thought out move. The good news is, though, that I have learnt from that mistake. I won't be telling anyone else to start a blog.

So when Marc asked me whether I would like to collaborate with him on a new blog, I naturally said 'No'. The problem was that Marc was not in earshot and so all he got was an email saying 'Yes'. Taking things at face-value, Marc decided I really meant 'Yes'. As a result we have created 7 Reasons. A bit like Ronseal, it does exactly what it says on the tin. Makes the dull shiny. Everyday we'll be taking a look at topical topics or random randomness and giving you seven reasons, erm, why. For example, 7 Reasons Why France Like Their Onions. Basically, think of it as a self-help guide.

And it all starts over here. Tomorrow. Just remember that this is your first love, okay? Thanks.

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Anyone Need A Copywriter?

One thing you may not know about me is that I mucked around in advertising for a few years. (Another is that my lamp could do with a light dusting). I am sure you have worked this out for yourself, but, when creating an advert, the best thing you can do is emphasize the service or product's Unique Selling Point. Sadly, I never had the opportunity to write the words on an ad for a cricket academy, but if I had I would have almost certainly focused on the location or the coaching or the fact that you share a changing room with the netball squad. What I wouldn't have done...is this.


Epic fail. They even missed out an apostrophe and the word the.

Incidentally, I went to a cricket academy in Perth. The ACE Academy. They advertise themselves as, 'The World's Finest Cricket Academy'. It worked for me.

Yesteryear Went Too Soon

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I often find myself hankering back to the good old times. The times before iPods and pyramid-shaped tea-bags and hoverboards. Even though I wasn't there, it just seems to have been so much more simple. The only thing simple about the world today is Jordan. Yes, in some ways it's better, my electric razor gives me an extra five minutes in bed and to get milk for my tea I just have to open the fridge instead of finding a roaming cow. But in other ways, life today is a pain in the backside. I have a DAB radio that only gives me a crisp, clear signal if I don't sit on the sofa. I have a wi-fi connection that seemingly wanders off to Hammersmith whenever it bloody well feels like it and I have a state of the art lamp that is about as bright as Max Clifford's client list. Technology. Who needs it?

Well I do. Because it allows me to dream about an easier time. There isn't much worth watching on TV, but when I do find myself sitting on the sofa - simultaneously laughing at my DAB radio - it is invariably because I am about to watch something based in the yesteryear. Whether it's the 1940's Belgian Resistance series, Secret Army, or the 1960's advertising drama, Mad Men, I love it. I love the clothes, the unfiltered cigarettes, the cars and the dodgy accents. Most of all I love the fact that conversations last longer than thirty seconds before someone picks up their iPhone to check their twitter account. I long to experience this life for myself, but as I can't I am thankful to those who never let us forget that once upon a time people liked spam and women wore suspenders and Gordon Brown wasn't our Prime Minister and a blackberry was something you ate.

As a result, I get quite excited when I see some new film or drama coming up that features outrageous sideburns. Recently I was excited at the prospect of the Damned Utd and only last week found myself excited and then highly pleasured by the BBC's Micro Men - the battle between Clive Sinclair and Chris Curry for the 1980's computer market. (It's on the BBC iPlayer until 18th October if you haven't seen it). Now I find myself excited by the prospect of Sex, Drugs and Rock'n'Chips. It's a one-off 90-minute prequel to Only Fools and Horses. But there is a problem. I love Only Fools and Horses. Really love it. What I did not like was the spin-off, The Green Green Grass. That was bad. Bad, bad, bad. So bad, that I swore I would never watch any subsequent Only Fools and Horses related spin-off or sequel ever again. I didn't want to see something I love tarnished anymore. So of course what does John Sullivan do? He writes a prequel that is set in the 1960's. Genius is not the word. He is causing me great distress. I either watch it whilst hiding behind a cushion preparing to cringe or I ignore it and in doing so ignore two of my loves. (Three if you include Nicholas Lyndhurst). I really don't know what to do.

So, I think you'll agree when I say that this proves beyond doubt that living in the modern world is a nightmare and the sooner we ignore global warming and invest in a Time Machine the better. Ideally one you don't have to plug in.

But Its Never Got Better Than This