I got up late this morning. That headline grabbing piece of news might not be suprising for those who believe that the unemployed are a bunch of lazy dole cheats who couldn't do a days work if you put a gun to their heads, and in most cases, you'd be right. After attending that back-to-work scheme earlier this year even I was stunned by the general apathy and resistance to earning a living. In my case however, it was a late night and a neighbour who decided to play his radio in the small hours. I'm yawning as I write this.

Now, talking about yawning, I notice from the news pages that Simon Cowell is planning a world-wide talent show. That's original. Never been doen before, surely? He wants to turn it it into a 'premier league' for performers. Personally I think it's a rubbish idea. Firstly, it's just an excuse for Simon Cowell to get richer, secondly, by its very nature the program will introduce an unhealthy censorship of performing arts.

Why do I think that? Back in the days of my youth I set out to be a rock star. No, don't laugh, I was fed up following my father into the same warehouse, I certainly didn't want to follow him into the army after failing to get in the RAF twice, so I suppose it was an attemnpt to be a success on my own terms. Plus I rather liked the idea of being rich and famous. Ahhh... The folly of youth...

The point is that as I climbed the first rungs of showbusiness (and believe me, they don't reach very high at all) I came across a local agent. Now it is true that he got Bardiche, a fairly typical 80's rock band that I was a founder member of, into gigs I couldn't arrange myself, but at the same time he also tended to over control things. He was after profit. He wanted his slice of the pie, and as much of it as he could get. I know, that was his vocation, and you shouldn't expect anything else, but a part of me still thinks he was a relatively small time operator who kept a tight leash on acts under his influence such that it tended to stifle their careers.

You might argue I stood little chance of a career in music. Okay, I have to accept the odds were against it. But then, Red Jasper went beyond his level simplyh because we refused to let him earn profit from us. Unfortunately, our band manager turned out to be just as bad, and that closed the door on me.

Last night I was practising keyboards. Make no mistake, I have no illusions about my ability, but music is something tio be heard and enjoyed isn't it? Seeing as this was well past midnight and my window was open top relieve the stuffy warm atmosphere of electrical gizmo's in an emclosed space, I could hardly pump up the volume despite my neighbours love of loud music. With headphones on, the only person that could hear what I was doing was me. Nonetheless, I was playing, not watching, and you know what? I derived pleasure fromm playing keyboards last night and it didn't earn Simon Cowell one cent.

Besieged

"He's still got his window open" Said a disembodied voice somewhere out on the street last night. Yes. I have. It's called ventilation. He continued "One of these days he's going to get a visit."

Thanks for the tip. I'll invest in a metal cauldron in which to pour oil on the heads of those battering my door down. I wonder if my letting agent will let me fit a portcullis behind the door? Or perhaps dig a moat across the tiny front yard? An englishmans home is his castle after all.

Not Again!

Almost every day a spider builds a thread of silk between the iron railings that mark the entrance to my home. Every day. It's annoying because I can't see it and invariably I feel it brush against my face as I leave the house in the morning. Full marks for persistence, Mr Spider, but what stupid place to build a flytrap.