WEDNESDAY 6th JANUARY
I’ve been blogging since early 2006 when I was working at Fusion and decided I needed to get a few things off my chest. It was even more random than it is now and barely anyone saw it. Then people started telling me they read my blog and it kind of blossomed into the monster it is today.
I did give some thought over Christmas about knocking it on the head as sometimes it’s a right ball-ache to write. I may sack it off at some point this year, I don’t know, but while you lot read it and give me feedback, I’ll plough on.
Don’t forget to check out all the latest Pussycats photos in the gallery at www.djwanker.com and at www.telfordnightlife.co.uk which include ones from New Year’s Eve which, by the way, was an absolute corker at Cats.
The big moment of the festive season was, of course, the sad farewell of David Tennant in Dr Who. I know most of you don’t care so skip down a bit but I want to write something for those who have invested time in what has been a brilliant TV programme.
Now I’m not a science fiction geek and some of things which go on in the show pass me by. I’m not interested in the technical aspects, the explosions, the clever words etc – I like the relationships between the characters, the humour, the emotion, the clever writing.
The return of the Master and the Timelords didn’t float my boat particularly but I accept it was a plot device to lead Tennant to his downfall. A few other bits were just nonsensical flim-flam too and Russell T. Davies, the writer, was clearly self-indulgent. I think he should be allowed that after masterminding the return of a terrific show.
The last 20 minutes of the New Year’s Day episode didn’t make me blub like a baby but – and it’s hard to admit this – I had tears in my eyes and the odd drop did trickle. It was sensational.
With a show like Dr Who, you have to embark on a suspension of disbelief as time travel isn’t actually possible. The uber geeks on forums pick holes in plotlines and question what everything means. They forget it’s meant to be a programme for kids and adults alike to make them laugh and cry and sometimes be scared.
For the uber geeks, there HAS to be something to complain about and, trust me, they whinge about the tiniest thing. It’s entertainment, pure and simple. Some of these sci-fi keyboard warriors probably have little else of note going on in their lives.
That said, here I am writing with such passion about a TV show. The highlight of the Tennant farewell was his interaction with Wilfred, played by Bernard Cribbins. If there’s any justice in the world, Cribbins will win every best supporting TV actor award going in 2010.
We knew the Doctor was leaving and we knew the prophecy: “He will knock four times.” The knocking sent a shiver down my spine. It was Wilfred, unintentionally leading the Doctor to his demise. He sacrificed his life (in the current form) to save the sweet, old man. That bit got me going and it didn’t stop until the end.
I found the bit outside the church particularly moving when the Doctor announced he’d gone back in time to borrow money for a wedding present from Donna’s late father. It was a lovely touch from the writer because the actor who played Geoff Noble died in November 2007. Sylvia’s reaction just about set me off.
Then the book signing was emotional; as was the Ood “singing him to sleep” and, of course, the Doctor’s final words. It was a fitting end for Tennant. You’ve also got to credit the musical score which just added to the drama.
Those of you who like the show will understand all that and those who don’t probably won’t have a clue what I’m on about but it’s my blog and I can indulge as much as I want! Roll on the Spring and Matt Smith taking over Doctor duties. The Weeping Angels and Daleks are coming back, too!
Right, onwards we go and I’ve had a little look back at the blog over the past 12 months and sifted through some of the momentous events to bring you this recap of 2009:
JANUARY
News: Marks & Spencer announced they were to shed over 1000 jobs. It’s not just redundancy; it’s M&S redundancy.
Bad taste: A man went to a fancy dress party as Madeleine McCann. It was, however, a good interpretation of the missing toddler as his mum and dad were nowhere to be seen…
Barack Obama was inaugurated as president of the United States. Some Americans still confuse Obama with Osama. Slight difference.
Slumdog Millionaire was released and went on to win almost every award going.
Random: Iceland’s banking system collapsed and the country installed a lesbian as prime minister. Sadly, she’s not fit.
FEBRUARY
Went to Tenerife with a friend for a few days. Warm and lovely without being serious suntan weather, the pool area was full of ugly, foreign coffin-dodgers. During our nights out, we bumped into footballer Titus Bramble. The highlight was the evening ‘walk of shame’ and my friend’s drunken piano playing. I was crowned pool champion and a female Gok Wan lookalike served us food in the restaurant.
The same friend this month also bashed his face up courtesy of a lot of alcohol and an icy footpath.
Someone messaged me on Facebook and accused me of being no better than ‘a rude Redcoat from Butlins.’
A friend of mine split with his size 20 girlfriend because she objected to the card he gave her on Valentine’s Day. Well it was a gym membership card.
MARCH
Moved into ‘the crib’ in St George’s to give me a weekend base and cut down on the driving from Leicester to Telford. Was told that the policy was “bro’s before hoes” when it came to women. Let’s just say I kept my side of the bargain.
Nearly had a fight with a Derby County supporter at a football match I was covering.
Received a demand from the Inland Revenue for not getting my tax return in on time. They sent me a bill for £0.00. Didn’t hear from them again on the matter.
A survey this month revealed that men who live in Reykjavik have the biggest penises in the world. So that’s why mum’s go to Iceland.
Someone on Facebook said: “DJ Wanker is a completely shit DJ. I hate this bastard and hope he dies.”
Not a vintage month for my best mate Phil. Dumped via a text message and then filled his diesel car with petrol.
John Bishop: “Pouring petrol into a diesel car is like pouring gin into a woman. You know that at some point during the evening she’s going to break down.”
Jade Goody died and thousands of people who didn’t know her set up Facebook pages to say how much they would miss her. One person called Andrea wrote: “You made a difference to the world.” A sad loss so young, yes, but a bit of perspective please.
APRIL
Celebrated my 36th birthday which reminded me of when I bought a girlfriend a vibrator as a present for her birthday. All she did was moan, moan, moan….
The lesbians next door gave me a Rolex for my birthday – although I think they misunderstood when I said I wanna watch.
Tim Westwood came to Pussycats and rocked the place. He wrote on his twitter feed: “DJ Wanker is cool. I liked him. He made me laugh. Big up DJ Wanker.” Westwood, the Big Dawg, genuinely wrote that. Nope – I couldn’t believe it either. But it was true.
A man came into Pussycats saying he wanted to fly me to India to DJ at a gig in Goa. They would pay for flights and hotel plus £2000 for my set. Needless to say I didn’t hear from him again as I expected.
Went to a after-club house party in Lawley where the owner fed their pet Rottweiler raw meat and alcohol… and then suggested I give it a big hug. “He’s an absolute sweetie,” the owner said. Face-to-face with a salivating, drunk beast, I felt like Kerry Katona’s husband and my anus was quivering like a jelly.
Leicester City were promoted as champions in their only season in League One. A bittersweet thing – happiness at the success but gutted we were there in the first place.
Madonna fell off a horse in April. The medics arrived and said the knackered old beast was not worth saving. The horse was fine though…
Did some bulk buying of bargain-priced high-quality toilet roll. Phil walked in and said: “Have you got the shits, Geoff?”
We discovered in April that an odd 47-year-old Scottish woman had an incredible voice but Susan Boyle didn’t win Britain’s Got Talent.
Two dyslexic bank robbers ran into Barclays and shouted: “Air in the hands mother stickers, this is a fuck up.”
MAY
Swine flu hit the headlines. Symptoms included sweating, acting ignorant and rude, excessive body odour and laziness. Judging by that, I thought a lot of people in Telford might be affected…
A psycho woman was dumped by her boyfriend and reacted by chucking a glass in his face causing a massive scar. She defended her behaviour as ‘acceptable’ although I begged to differ. Might have mentioned it once or twice on the blog.
Went on a train journey and asked for a return ticket. The station clerk said: “Where to?” and I said: “Back here of course.”
Pussycats barman Tom thought the Battle of Hastings was in 1966.
Joined a dating site. Put into the search box that I was looking for a woman in Telford aged 18-40 without children. It produced no matches. I tried to use the word ‘penis’ as my password but apparently it wasn’t long enough.
Cheered on Barcelona to victory in the Champions League final, wiping a few smug grins off the faces of plenty of bandwagon-jumping glory-supporting plastic Manchester United fans.
Discovered that printing facts about people doesn’t always go down to well as the truth can be quite hurtful.
Tania Watts messaged me: “It doesn’t matter that some people get offended by what you put in the blog. You just have the balls to say what most people think. People should respect that.”
JUNE
Had my toenails painted pink for a weekend to show support for a dear friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer. Ended up keeping them pink for four months. I loved them!
Pussycats was voted ‘Best Nightclub’ in Shropshire in an online poll. Obviously.
Started my annual summer pilgrimage to Ibiza. Went twice in June and five times in total. The first trip saw my mate get rather drunk, take a tumble and scar his face for the third time in a few months. The alcohol affected his brain because one night he said: “I really love you mate, thanks for being there for me all the time.” He couldn’t remember the next day. A bottle of water in San Antonio superclub Eden raised his temperature. “Eight fucking euros!”
Got mistaken for Judge Jules on a flight to Ibiza and then again in resort.
Michael Jackson died. Even six months on they can’t decide what was to blame… the sunshine? The moonlight. The good times? Okay, you get the idea.
MPs proved how out of touch with reality they were by claiming expenses way beyond the realms of acceptability.
Emma S messaged me: “I’m hooked on your blogs. You are a man of wise words.”
A woman, during an intimate moment, asked me to make her breathless. So I hid her inhaler.
JULY
Jodie Marsh and some blokes from Emmerdale, Shameless and Hollyoaks came to party at Pussycats.
An anonymous email dropped into my inbox: “Congratulations Geoff. You really are a c***.”
Football mourned the loss of Sir Bobby Robson, one of the most wonderful, honest and decent men involved in the game.
Two blokes squared up on a flight to Ibiza as we started our descent into resort. It was like an airborne episode of The Jeremy Kyle Show. The stewards leapt in to keep them apart but it was just about to get very messy.
Felt like a stalker as I drunkenly took loads of photos of Howard Donald from Take That as he was DJ-ing in Eden. Met a lovely girl from Norway with magnificent breasts. Spent 16 euros (about £15) on a single vodka and coke. Kept bumping into the midget from Garlands. He wasn’t happy – so which one of the other six of Snow White’s helpers was he?
Needed expensive surgery on my car. Got pulled over by the Police in Telford while driving a hire car. Wasn’t speeding and hadn’t been drinking. It was a Ford Ka – I probably looked like Mr Bean squashed up in it.
AUGUST
Continued to listen to people who were trying to defend the indefensible. They were still wrong
England’s cricketers beat Australia to regain the Ashes. Real drama and the right result.
Made a bootleg version of ‘Riverside Motherfucker’ which was getting a serious caning in Ibiza. The tune is probably still the most requested in Pussycats five months later.
Was quite amazed that globetrotting superstar DJ Micky Slim knew who I was.
Told a girl she was the double of Cheryl Cole. Didn’t have the heart to say Cheryl was a size 8 and this girl was a 16.
Kerry Katona claimed she wasn’t a drug addict. Okay love…
Ethiopia finished higher than Great Britain in the final medals table at the World Athletics Championships. Bob Geldof… are you happy now?
SEPTEMBER
Flew for the first time with Ryanair. It was my fifth Ibiza trip of the summer. Decided not to read a copy of The Sun on the plane from Liverpool as they bear deep-seated grudges up there.
Bumped into two of the lads from JLS in Ibiza (but didn’t actually know who they were – credibility intact) and also chatted with Simon Webbe from Blue.
Got so drunk one night, I couldn’t actually recall getting from the club back to the hotel room. Even gave the chicken baguette man a swerve. Tequila shots with Danny and Ross was probably to blame.
Bought a painting called ‘Orgasm’. Damn thing turned out to be fake.
Students gained record GCSE and A-level results. So proud of these smart, intelligent, clever kids. Decent spelling, however, is clearly not part of any exam.
While she was doing some History homework, Aaleyah asked me if Louis Armstrong was the first man on the moon.
The world’s premier Beatles tribute band announced they were splitting up. Or, as you may know them… Oasis.
Patrick Swayze, considered one of the nicest people in Hollywood, lost his battle against cancer.
Sophie wrote: “I wish you did a daily blog. Puts a smile on my face every time.”
Made to feel uncomfortable in ‘the crib’ by someone who spent more time there than me, didn’t pay a penny towards rent and acted like they owned the place. The under-the-thumb boyfriend clearly forgot about the “bro’s before hoes” thing.
OCTOBER
Club Crush and Vox Bar finally opened in Telford. Wore a suit to the opening night and was told I looked very smart… or had just come from a court appearance.
Got a brief blink-and-you-miss-it mention in the Daily Mirror.
Reached 4,000 friends on Facebook and 2,500 in the DJ Wanker Appreciation Society.
Got ‘poked’ on Facebook by a woman I didn’t know. She sent me a message saying she was a “bored housewife looking for some action.” Eager to please, I sent her my ironing.
Two clowns called Jedward slipped into the public consciousness. They should’ve won X Factor to piss off the viewers and guarantee the next series would be cancelled.
Stephen Gately from Boyzone died. Didn’t get 20% off my concert ticket.
Saw some scary sights in Telford. This was the week BEFORE Hallowe’en.
Nick Griffin appeared on Question Time and showed the BNP for what they really are… vicious, nasty, racist, vile, bigoted scum.
NOVEMBER
The geekiest of all geeky geeks queued up at midnight for the release of a computer game.
Some bloke from Telford was dubbed ‘The Sperminator’ in the News of the World for (allegedly) getting 12 women pregnant after chatting them up on Facebook. The paper also called him a laptop lust hunter.
Aaleyah came out with this classic line: “It’s wrong that animals are killed to make fur which people like Victoria Beckham wear. But I don’t mind animals being killed because I love bacon.”
Celebrity oxygen thief Jordan went on I’m A Celebrity to “get closure” after her split from Peter Andre. The public displayed their wonderful humour by constantly voting for her to face the Bushtucker Trial. I wish she’d stay in Australia forever.
The Euro Millions lottery saw a €90m prize won by people who looked like they probably deserved the the money.
Tiger Woods, a seemingly clean-cut family man, is outed as a naughty boy. The world’s best golfer proves he can find the hole – on and off the course.
DECEMBER
Despite enjoying a better-than-expected start to the season, Leicester City got thrashed 5-1 by Nottingham Forest. We ended the year in the top six of the Championship. Let’s hope we’re still there in May.
A dull nobody won X Factor and released a dull record. A campaign on Facebook led to the song failing to get the Christmas number one.
Poker Face by Lady Gaga was the biggest selling single of the year. Still questions persist about whether the Madonna wannabe has both male and female genitalia. Personally speaking, I couldn’t care less.
Moved out of ‘the crib’ in St George’s and not a moment too soon. It was an interesting eight months which started well but turned sour. Found out what some people are really like. They won’t be missed. Now much happier with the weekend living arrangements elsewhere in Telford.
Got drunk in Leicester with Phil on Christmas Eve and had a real blast with the party at Pussycats on New Year’s Eve. Good times.
And finally…
HOPES FOR 2010 (in no particular order)
Leicester City to win promotion to the Premier League; England to win the World Cup; the Conservatives to win the General Election; another busy year at Pussycats; to meet the woman of my dreams; continued health and happiness for all the important people in my world… I don’t ask for much.
Cheers for now,
Geoff / DJ Wanker
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