I was so hungry I actually did just eat a horse....

So this week we've been subjected to more headlines about horse meat than I've had hot, and potentially horse infested, dinners. The Sun in particular has gone to town on this story, having day after day of horse related articles and their pun machine going into overdrive with headlines such as; "A load of old Pony" after one of their journalists visited a Romanian slaughterhouse and "Neigh Levels" after horse meat was discovered in school dinners. Yep that's right, The Sun has covered this story with as much tact as ever. I'm just amazed they haven't linked the puns together with the Oscar Pistorius murder case yet. There's always next week I guess.

My favourite report so far however has been about the horse meat that was found in....wait for it.....kebabs! WHAT a revelation that one was aye? Personally I am actually astonished it was as good as horse meat that they discovered, as I always pressumed Kebabs were made from the remains of dead badgers and drowned kittens. In fact, having horse meat in it has actually made me more tempted to go down the local Abbra Kebabra and rekindle my love for what once used to be my drunken after pub stable, err i mean staple.

Now personally I don't really see what all the fuss is about. Okay so the burgers you bought for about 5p had something other than the finest cuts of beef in them? Who'd have thought it aye? What next, the 'Roof Lauren' jumper you bought for £2.50 down the local market wasn't the high quality 'Ralph Laurent' knitted beauty you were expecting? At least we know where the Horses missing 4th leg on the logo went now I guess? Every cloud and all that.

Obviously this horse meat issue is bad and yeah the stores suppliers certainly shouldn't be hanging about down the local race track like it's an all you can eat buffet, but to me it's all getting a bit boring now. No one's died as far as I am aware - well other than maybe poor old Seabiscuit - and in other countries they eat horse like we eat beef (which ironically might be horse) so let's just get on with it and as long as it gets sorted urgently then surely we can stop with the daily updates and scaremongering?

Even the revelation that some horse meat contained a painkiller called 'bute' hasn't really stacked up to be anything to worry about, as according to doctors you'd need to eat around six hundred horse meat burgers in one sitting for it to have any effect on you whatsoever! SIX HUNDRED!!! Now there's an episode of Man Vs Food I wanna see. Seriously, if that's the amount you're eating then having a painkiller in your system is probably a bonus, as the aftermath of that monstrosity is not going to be pretty.

Anyway as this continuous voice of doom in the papers doesn't seem to be shutting up anytime soon I've decided to have a think about what the potential benefits of eating horse could be, as I want to try and alleviate anyone's concerns if they are feeling particularly worried. Before I do go through these thoughts however I'd just like to tell any nutritionists, biologists or even horses reading this article that I have NO idea what I am talking about, so please don't take it too seriously. Still here we go:

1) It might make you run quicker and become stronger - Cows are slow, lazy animals who spend most of their day eating grass, having their udders squeezed by strangers and when laying down, giving people the chance to make outrageous assumptions about the weather. Horses however run around, jump fences and pull gypsies along the side of the road like it's nothing, so shoving a few of them down your neck might improve your athleticism. When I say 'them' I mean horses by the way, not gypsies - eating those cheeky buggers might just make you really bad at laying driveways or something.

2) It could make you cooler. Have you ever seen anyone riding a cow? No, that's because it would make you look mentally unstable. Riding a horse however is pretty cool, so eating something that John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and recently Jamie Foxx casually trot around on in their movies could potentially have the same effect on you. Obviously if after a year of eating it you find yourself roaming around a field on all fours with a fella sitting on your back and shouting giddyup then it's probably wise to re-think your eating habits.

3) It might make you 'Frencher'. Now this can be seen as a positive or negative, depending on your view of the French, but the Frenchies love a bit of horse and their food is meant to be the best in the world, plus women LOVE their accent. So if you want to up your game in the culinary sense and maybe add a little bit of a French twang to your current rough English tones then eat away. Admittedly the whole 'eating what the French do might make you sound French' theory is a bit far fetched, and if that was the case then considering my curry habit I'd be sounding 90% Indian, but hey give it a go, you never know, it might work.

4) It could make your manhood bigger. No one ever says 'Oh he's hung like a cow' do they? Well maybe on that show 'Embarassing Bodies', but I don't see that as a positive. So I say if you get the chance gorge away on a bit of horse meat and by this time next year your little fella might be swinging around like an unmanned fire hose.

5) It won't turn you loopy. I mean have you ever heard of mad horses disease? Nope me neither, cows however? Big time. Fifteen years or so ago Britain was seemingly full of cows going bonkers. I'm not saying they were heading down the local Lidl dressed in their pyjamas like mad humans do, but they were still causing a lot of problems. So tuck into horse, at least you know (at this point) that it's not going to send you over the edge.

6) If we eat all the horses, then any sport that previously involved them might have to swap to using cows instead.  Just imagine The Grand National, it would be incredible!  Or it could actually make Dressage at the Olympics even funnier?! 

There you have it, just a handful of scientifically dubious but theoretically possible positive results that could come from eating horse! Actually who am I kidding? Even theoretically this is bollocks, but as long as dairy farmers don't start using horses "milk" instead of cows then I'm fine with the rest. Seriously, someone showed me the infamous Animal Farm tape at school and you DO NOT want to be pouring that on your cornflakes....

Django Unchained - Controversial, crazy and classic Tarantino

Last weekend in the UK saw the release of Quentin Tarantino's new movie 'Django Unchained', a film that sits pretty on 81 out of 100 on Metacritic, is described by the Newspaper 'USA Today' as "dazzling, daring, gruesome and astonishingly funny" and has now been nominated for four Oscars at this years Academy Awards.  All of this had meant that prior to the release I was probably the most excited I had been about seeing a film since I was a horny teenager and a school mate leant me Basic Instinct.

My excitement about Django however was not purely based on the reviews, the trailer, or even the fact that Leonardo Dicarpio was playing against type as an evil plantation owner with teeth so rotten that he would have probably fit in quite nicely down my local Lidl.  No, my excitement stems from a love of most, although admittedly not all, Quentin Tarantino movies.  From the brutal brilliance of Resevoir Dogs and Kill Bill, to the tension, humour and genius performance of Christoph Waltz in Inglourious Basterds; Over the years Tarantino's films have arrived like a breath of fresh air in an industry that seems to be increasingly obsessed with releasing sequels, remakes and 3D versions of films that weren't worth going to see in the cinema the first time around, let alone after a bit of mediocre 3D has increased the ticket price by about five quid!  Fancy paying £12 to see Jar Jar Binks being an irritating shit again in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace 3D anyone?  Umm let me think - nope I'd rather wipe my bottom with stinging nettles too.  

Anyhow, so as I walked in to the cinema to watch Django my expectations were at an all time high and I was filled with hope that like Inglorius Basterds did partly before it, Django would lead me to forgive Tarantino for the absolute shite fest that was Death Proof.  Of course, I'm sure getting my forgiveness is about as important to Tarantino as getting a Christmas card from Lance Armstrong is to Bradley Wiggins, but I was still hopeful that the film would fully restore my faith in a man that I feel is one of the greatest directors and screenwriters in modern cinema.  

Having now seen the movie, I can categorically say my faith has been restored.  Now I am not saying this is his best work, as it certainly isn't.  But is it up there?  Well I'd argue most definitely yes as it has all the hallmarks of what makes Tarantino's films so entertaining; Dark humour?  Check.  Cracking dialogue?  Check.  Great acting?  Check.  Brilliant soundtrack?  Check.  The ability to offend just about anyone and everyone and make your mum question what on earth has happened to peoples morals in today's society?  One big massive CHECK.  Like the 'bring out the gimp' scene in Pulp Fiction, there are moments in Django that leave you wondering whether that was something you should have been laughing at, and now that you have, whether you should be sending yourself straight to hell.  I can just imagine the conversation at the Pearly Gates when my time is up:

Saint Peter: "So you feel you deserve to go to heaven do you my child?"

Me: "Oh yeah definitely big dog.  I've led a good and honest life.  I've never stolen anything, I've never cheated on my missus, have always had my suspicions about Jimmy Savile and I never swear, blaspheme or anything".

Saint Peter: "But didn't you laugh when John Travolta 'shot up Marvin in the face' in Pulp Fiction?"

Me: "Err yep, but I can explain, I...."

Saint Peter: "And when those racist guys were complaining about the eye holes in their hoods as they were preparing to try and torture and murder an innocent black man in Django Unchained?"

Me.  "Again yes but again I can explain, I..."

Saint Peter:  "And consistently at Christoph Waltz in Inglorious Basterds even though he was 'The Jew Hunter' who killed innocent people for no other reason than for being Jewish?"

Me:  "Err yes, but O M actual G S to the P, I wasn't laughing at what happened, it was horrific, he just had some funny lines that's all!  Anyway I thought you and the Jewish communtiy didn't get on?"

Saint Peter:  "You really know nothing about religion do you?  Anyway, you're going to spend the rest of eternity in damnation.  Oh and don't ever call me S to the P again, it's Saint Peter you idiot" 

Me: "Sorry Pete, no I don't know about religion, but Damnation, is that a night club?"

Saint Peter: "No it's hell"

Me: "Bugger"

That's the thing with Tarantino films, they are undeniably offensive and I can totally understand why a lot of people detest his movies and the way he frequently seems to make light of something that is completely abhorrent.  Django Unchained is no exception; It's sadistic, it's vulgar, it's occasionally self indulgent and it's frequent use of the term 'nigger' makes for uncomfortable viewing.  However it is also full of incredible performances, is consistently hilarious, undeniably intense, hugely provocative and all in all thoroughly entertaining throughout it's 2hr 45minute running time.  

Admittedly it does also contain Tarantino's worst cameo to date, playing an Australian mining company worker but with an accent that goes from bad Australian, to Irish, to South African and finishes with what seems to be a hint of Indian.   Still, dodgy accent aside, in my opinion Django Unchained is Tarantino's best movie since Pulp Fiction and the most fun I've had in the cinema since watching Toy Story 3!  Now there's a comparison I didn't think I'd be making when I sat down to write this.  Woody as a racist sheriff in Django Unchained 2 perhaps? Now that would be controversial...

Gym'll fix it for you....

Christmas; The time for giving, the time for getting together with your family, the time for drinking and eating so much crap that if your vital organs had their own legs and weren't so wrapped up in their role of keeping your ass alive then they'd have left you long before Santa came a calling.

Now don't get me wrong, I love the festive period. For me it's the most enjoyable part of the year and not just because my birthday is two days before big JC made his first alleged appearance on this earth. No it's also due to the fact that everything is just so much more damn fun!

Not only is there less stress at work (well unless you're an elf of course), there's also generally a better mood out on the streets, and due to the fact that you can say "I'm going to give that up in Jan" you can practically do anything you like for the entirety of December and not feel guilty! What was that? You have a cheese platter, a selection of cold meats and a chocolate variety pack leftover in the fridge after Christmas? Oh yeah why not, this might be the time of day when I would normally eat my cornflakes and go for a shower, but I can start that again in Jan. Plate me up the Wensleydale, a Curly Wurly and a piece of crackling the size of my head please baby, I'm about to put the 'die' into diet.

This fun and lack of self respect of course comes at a cost; By Jan 1st, if you're like me at all, then you have developed a chin that is heading south quicker than Santa on Christmas Eve and a belly that when touched feels like you're sticking your fingers into a bowl of mash. Therefore it's normally at this point every year I declare enthusiastically, "I'm going to join the gym" in the hope that just saying these words will instantly make me fitter.

Unfortunately, due to me being about as demotivated in January as a Turkey is as he wanders nervously around a field in early December, every year that I make this declaration I never actually proceed with it. However in 2013 I've convinced myself that I will. So on Thursday last week I went to the gym for the first time in 6 years, having signed up as a guest at the gym my girlfriend uses to to do a 'spin' session with her and hopefully a group of other people who had let themselves go over Christmas.

Ahh 'spinning', the activity that when I first heard it's name I assumed just involved loads of weirdos rotating on the spot like Julie Andrews in The Sound Of Music. An activity that whenever someone mentions it, another person always follows it up with something like "woah that's hardcore" or "you must be mad, that's a killer". So perhaps not the logical choice to go for considering I have a history of asthma, only rode a bike once since 2006 and hadn't ran for anything other than leftover pigs in blankets in nearly 5 months. Still it's good to throw yourself in at the deep end, that's what they say isn't it? Not if you can't swim in my opinion, but what the hell aye, you've got to try these things.

Anyway, as the day arrived panic began to set in for a number of reasons.

Well firstly, after the Christmas excesses, my body was in such ill health that if I were a horse I'd have been taken out to a field and shot (or at least sold to gypsies), so launching into a spin class seemed foolish.

Secondly, I have this unjustified belief that 90% of people in gyms are arrogant nobs. In all honesty, I have no scientific data to back this up, just my own prejudice and insecurities, but even so, it has always put me off going.

Finally, and probably most importantly considering it was the day I was going, I realised I had no 'gym appropriate' clothing. I mean my casual clothes are 'lounge pants' with a hole in the crotch and a set of slippers designed to look like a pair of sharks are eating my feet, neither of which seemed ideal considering I'd convinced myself that everyone else in the place was going to look like they'd just rolled straight out of the Olympic village. So, due to my own lack of foresight and a classic case of blind panic, I went with a pair of Converse style trainers that I normally wear to work, an oversized T shirt that I don't normally wear as you can see my nipples through it and a pair of aluminous ORANGE football shorts that I shouldn't really wear anywhere. Ever. Even on a football pitch.

Anyhow, on entering the Fitness First gym in Victoria, it quickly became clear that this wasn't exactly 'The Ritz' of health and fitness establishments and in fact it looked a bit more like an underground car park that someone had thrown a few running machines and mats in and then charged £35 a month for people to enter it. This was fine by me as the worse the place looked, the less concerned I was with how I did. However, after leaving my girlfriend to go and get changed in our respective changing rooms I soon realised that I may have been either A) completely out of my depth or B) potentially in a gay bar as the first person I saw in the men's changing room was in a tight vest top, short shorts, fake tan and had more muscles than the local fishmongers. Still I had my nipple exposing T shirt so maybe I was in the right place.

Luckily, someone else then poked their head around the corner who looked a bit unhealthy and maybe, like me, had let themselves go over Christmas. Encouraged by the fact that I may not be the only one dying mid session I proceeded to put on my "this man clearly hasn't thought this outfit through" gym gear and wandered out into the main gym area to wait for the missus.

Now, in hindsight I would have just waited in the changing room and asked Nai (my girlfriend) to call me when she was ready. The reason? Well because I quickly discovered that being dressed as a young Jimmy Savile and gormlessly standing in the middle of a gym where women are doing stretches and what not kind of makes you look like a massive pervert, which is something that I normally like to avoid. Thankfully Nai came out a few minutes later and lead me to the spin area before the guys from operation Yewtree could turn up and take me in for questioning.

Entering the spin room nervously we searched for a pair of bikes near the back. This was in the belief that like when at school, being as far away from the teacher as viable would make it easier to do as little work as possible. That's the spirit aye?! Anyway having found a pair of bikes one row from the back we strapped our feet in and got ready for action. Now to Nai this wasn't a big deal, she'd been going to spin classes regularly for over 2 years, but for me, I knew the next 45 minutes were potentially going to be my last on this earth so I was somewhat anxious about what was about to unfold.

The good news was that everyone in there seemed normal and the spin instructor was a very enthusiastic and genuinely friendly American fella. The bad news however was that said gym instructor immediately advised everyone that he was going to push us 'very hard' due to it being one of the first sessions back post Christmas. Obviously this is exactly what mine and everyone elses bodies probably needed, but it was certainly not what I, or my frequently abused heart, wanted to hear.

The instructor then advised everyone to turn the resistance on their bike slightly up, started a count down, whipped on some dance tune and off we went. He started us off in a standing position, getting us to pump our legs up and down to the beat, whilst consistently shouting 'up' and we would stand up straight, then 'out wide' and everyone would drop down so their arms were in the normal cycle position, but still with our bums off the seat. I'm slightly ashamed to say it, but this was the hardest ten minutes of my life. Seriously. And I've been to an 'Another Level' concert, so you just know I'm not lying.

There were two reasons for this - neither of which were down to our clearly excellent trainer but they were still causing me major problems:

The first was that I have absolutely no rhythm. I mean I'm the sort of person that when everyone is clapping in time at a gig or something, I'll be the one who's always just slightly off sync and slapping my hands together just after the event like a moron - so the instructor asking me to 'keep to the beat' of the music was like asking Lenny Henry to do a stand up set where he doesn't do an impression of his mum telling him off. It was just never gonna happen.

The second problem was that as I had no idea what resistance to put on my bike I just went for as little as possible, presuming that this would make the experience easier and therefore make me look like I was working my arse off, even though I wasn't. This naturally had the opposite effect and as I had no resistance on my pedals, every time I pushed down my whole body would flop forward to the side of the leg that was pushing, then flop to the other side as I pushed the other leg down. I must have looked more like I was trying to ride a frickin bucking bronco than taking a spin session. What a dick head, especially as this was all my own fault for being a lazy bastard. Still at least my aluminous shorts helped me to blend in.

I did, eventually, work out what I was doing and adjusted the settings on my bike and to my surprise it actually became much easier. Now when I say "easier", I don't mean "easy", as physically this is still one of the hardest things I've ever done it just meant that I didn't feel like I was on the verge of a heart attack throughout. Anxiety, panic, asthma and every other type of attack, yes, but just not the heart.

The session continued for a total of 45 minutes and despite a few wobbles, I have to admit it wasn't as bad as I had first feared, even if the walk back through the gym to the changing room was somewhat traumatic as my legs were constantly going into spasm. I did of course try to keep my game face on as I went, but this was completely undermined by a set of legs that seemed to be trying to leave my body and run away following the horror of what I had just put them through. Which I think was fair enough.

So that was that, my first proper gym session done without too many major dramas and although three days later my thighs are in their own personal hell and I'm walking around like I've got a shocking case of piles, I'd still say it was 100% worth it.

As for me thinking 90% of gym goers are nobs? Well from what I could tell after my first proper visit that didn't appear to be the case. Well unless you include me in my 'Saviles' of course.

Retweet retweet the trolls are coming...or Ten things I've learnt about Twitter

1. Apparently people are queueing up to say bad things about me.

I think I'm a good person. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly Mother Teresa; well other than that one time at my mates house, but I was drunk, there was a blue and white tea towel left on the side and things just got, well, a little bit silly really. But on the whole I think I am a decent human being. Yet, if I believed what the consistent stream of DM's I received on Twitter suggested to me each day, I'd presume I must be a horrible individual, as apparently I've got half the worlds population queueing up to give me abuse. I guess it's kind of like how John Terry must feel, but with far less justification.

Now I'm no Columbo (well other than the lazy eye), but like 99% of other people on Twitter I'm fully aware that these messages are nonsense, so have yet to click on the link to the abuse that's conveniently provided. However if I were to guess, I'd imagine their nasty words will somehow end up with me being asked to give over my bank account details for no reason whatsoever and then them buying themselves something incredibly nice with my money. Beautiful.

2. People really do love a quote on this thing.

Every day my time line is filled with inspirational words about love, forgiveness, hope, Justin Biebers' face, etc etc. Now I don't mind a good quote at all, but occasionally they are so ridiculous it's almost like someone's found the script for Anchorman 2 and assumed it was the writings of Aristotle.

My favourite one recently was "The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings". Pardon? Of course theoretically it kind of makes sense. However think of it again, but this time imagine how Ron Burgundy would say it;

"The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to. count. our. blessings".

Or to put it another way;

"When. In. Rome".

To my uneducated mind, Ron Burgundying any quote usually tells me if it is good or nonsense (funny nonsense, but still nonsense) and by doing this I've come to realise that, quite simply, sixty percent of the time, the quotes on Twitter are gibberish, every time.

3. Not everyone seems to know Twitter is public.

There are a lot of tweets that appear, normally by professional footballers, but also by your regular user, that make you wonder whether the individual has stumbled blindly onto Twitter and started writing outrageous things after being told by a not particularly good mate that "Oh yeah you can say what you like on here, no one will ever know" *nod, wink, nod, wink*.

Err well unfortunately Twitter isn't a confessional, or a visit to the doctors, so unless you want 500 million people baying for your blood keep those crazy thoughts about race, religion, Justin Bieber or your love for Jimmy Savile to yourself. My rule of thumb is simple; If it could lead to me getting sacked, dumped, or potentially put in a prison cell with a lunatic that's got a fetish for young men with silly haircuts, then it's probably worth me keeping those 140 characters tucked away firmly in my head. If it doesn't fall into this criteria however, then I'll Tweet away.

4. Attention seeking is rife.

Like Facebook, Twitter by its very nature is rife with people trying to get attention. I do it myself and it's what Twitter, to some extent, is all about. Especially if it's for something justifiable like trying to get people to read your blog, watch a short film you made, or laugh at a picture of a cat wearing a bow tie. These things are all totally acceptable (especially the cat one).

However it's the "I'm so ugly" type tweets that I find a tad infuriating. Now of course people can Tweet what they like (within reason), but what is normally annoying about these kind of tweets is they are rarely by someone who appears to genuinely feel the way they've tweeted. No, they are usually by someone (often a minor celebrity) who is posing half naked in the mirror in their profile pic and are clearly just chucking the comment out there like an emotionally baited fishing line in the knowledge that someone will take a bite and tell them how great they are. Which of course they do. Over. And over. And over. I'd try it myself, but I'm slightly concerned everyone will come back with "OMG, you really are" or "LOL, true dat, you look like Edward Scissorhands on acid", which would of course kind of defeat the purpose of the tweet.

5. There's a lot of kinky bastards on Twitter.

The other day I looked at the 'View all activity' section on Twitter just to see what it was all about. Wow! What I discovered is that I am actually followed by a handful of absolutely MASSIVE perverts! I mean each to their own, follow who you like, be a pervert if you so wish, doesn't bother me. But I just wonder if they realise that everyone can see what they've be micheviously up to? I mean if it was me and I'd just followed about fifty blatant porn sites and favourited tweet after tweet by someone called @watchmycrotch69*, I'd probably want to keep that shit kept firmly under wraps.

*Please note '@watchmycrotch69' is a made up Twitter name by me, just then, so any likeness to anyone, alive or dead, kinky or not kinky, is pure coincidence. Although hopefully they don't exist, as this could get awkward.

6. Not everyone understands the principle of a trending topic.

I love it when I have a look at trending topics and see multiple complaints about said trend by people saying something like;

"Why is #Ilovejustin trending? I hate him".

Now I'm assuming they do know that by saying this they realise that they've inadvertently helped keep the trend going? It's like saying "Bloody hell, why is it trendy to wear Ugg boots? They're so expensive and it makes you walk like you've got a carrot up your bum?" Then jumping up, re-mortgaging your house and running down the shops to buy a pair. If you don't like the trend, the best way to stop it is probably to steer clear of getting involved with it in the first place.

7. I've allegedly been in a lot of shocking photo's and videos.

I'm a man who doesn't get up to a lot of mischief, well unless you go back to that Mother Teresa incident again, but let's not, she's a legend and I'm a tad ashamed, plus probably now going to hell. But anyway, I'm the sort of person that tries to avoid trouble at all costs and like Kate Middleton's boobs on a balcony, I have no interest in being on camera.

However if my DM's are to be believed, I've been up to all sorts of shenanigans, with mail after mail stating;

"OMG what are you doing with him in this video. Mega LOL".

Now initially my thoughts when this happens is usually; "But Father Murphy said no one would ever know?" Luckily however I always quickly come to my senses and realise firstly that never happened and secondly that I've no idea what this infamous video could be. Not that it matters if I remember the video in question of course, as they offer me the chance to see my apparently outrageous antics by adding a link to the infamous tape itself.

Naturally, like the "People have been saying nasty things about you" mail, I've yet to click on the link provided, not just because I don't fancy giving my computer more viruses than a 50 year old German in Bangkok, but also because I know I'm far too boring for anything shocking of me to ever be caught on tape.

Well unless it's footage of "Mother Teresa-gate" of course. But if that is the case, then I'd rather leave that particular film viewing to the Lord himself if you don't mind. Although, I've got to be honest, I'm not exactly expecting rave reviews from the big man for my portrayal of Momma T. I mean for one my accent and my lack of acts of unquestionable kindness were way off the mark.

8. If you say something slightly negative about Justin Bieber, 'Beliebers' will wish you dead.

I've never done it myself, as I don't agree with abusing anyone on Twitter, celebrity or not, but I've seen people who have tweeted abuse about the worlds favourite teenager and then witnessed a 'belieber' attack on a 'Non Belieber'. It wasn't pretty, kinda like watching a pack of lions take down a gazelle one tweet at a time. So if you want to say something bad about the boy, keep it to yourself as the response can be quite simply 'unbelieberble'. Sorry, that's the worse joke I've ever written. No seriously, Belieb me it is. Sorry again, that one may actually have been worse. *Backs away from laptop and hides behind sofa*.

9. It's impossible to know what will get retweeted.

Now I am sure that most people who tweet something that they feel is interesting, funny or remotely entertaining wants, deep down, for that tweet to be shared with as many people as possible. So I am sure I'm not alone when I say it's somewhat frustrating when you've spent a few hours writing what you think is a good blog post, or you've dropped a particularly witty comment and not one person shares, replies or favourites what you feel is your 140 character masterpiece.

It could of course mean your/my writing is absolute rubbish and doesn't deserve a response, but then suddenly you'll see a celebrity tweet something like; "I really like cats" and Twitter immediately erupts into life; "I love cats too! Please follow me....and my cat" someone will reply or "@ladyGaga fu**ing MEOW's - Makes Everything Outrageously Wicked. LOL!" another person posts, whilst your comment is just left there, ironically floating around in cyberspace like some unwanted kitten. Still, I say carry on regardless and just hope one day your/my time will come. It probably won't, but hey you never know.

10. Twitter abuse is pathetic.

There are certain individuals who, for some reason (presumably because they have no friends, live in their parents basement and masturbate 24/7) seem to find it okay to constantly abuse people and especially celebrities on Twitter. I find this 'trolling' so bizarre. Seriously if the highlight of your day is to wish some celebrity catches AIDs, or to tell some girl you don't know that she's "fuc*ing ugly", then I'm pretty sure you need to step away from your laptop, pull up your trousers and get out and live a little. Seriously, the outside world is pretty nice, there's trees, real life humans, people of the opposite sex, everything! Plus if you're lucky you might even get to see one of those things flying about that looks like your beloved Twitter logo. I believe they're called birds. I think you'll love them.

The end.

How to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

Now everyone has had one those awkward silence moments. Whether it be on a first date, in the work lift, or when someone you once went to school with sits down next you on the train, everyone has been through it, and I'm assuming unless you live in a monestary, or with Jedward, this type of silence is not something anyone enjoys. So I have decided to detail 10 ways in which you can either stop that silence in it’s tracks or totally avoid the situation in the first place. Here goes:

1. Whistle.

Now whistling is a bit like clapping; do it at the right time and it’s totally acceptable, however do it at the wrong time, say at your bosses funeral for example, and people assume you are a crack pot. However whether it is the right time or not, whistling is always a good method for breaking an uncomfortable silence. In fact, I still remember how my dad, who used to work night shifts at the post office, once told me how whenever he was walking behind a girl at night on his way in to work, he would whistle loudly in to the air in order to break the silence and make the girl feel at ease as she’d know exactly where he was.

Umm, I’m not sure about this one. Yes it would have broken the silence, but if I was a young lady walking along the road in the dead of night and a bearded old man like my Dad started whistling behind me from the shadows, my first thoughts would not be;

“Oh what a lovely fella, whistling away so I know he’s just going to work rather than out on the hunt for a sex crime victim. I wish more people were like him”.

Nope it would be;

“What the HELL is this whistling lunatic doing? God, I’m 100% ending up on Crimewatch in the not too distant future. They better bloody use someone good looking in my reconstruction”.

Still fair play to my Dad, the whistling certainly would have broken the silence, although I'm not too sure whether it would have made the girl in question feel any more comfortable.

2. Ask about their family.

This is always a good tactic as it means you can spend at least a few relatively entertaining minutes hearing about how little Johnny took a poo on the rug or ate one of his Dad’s cigarettes, before then wandering off and carrying on with your day. However, this reliance on the persons family being fit and well can on occasion backfire massively.

For example, I can remember once when I was on a bus in America and got into a discussion with an older, relatively posh lady, who was also a fellow Brit. After a minute or so of talking about the weather and the occasional whistle, things started to get somewhat awkward, so I enquired if she was with her family in America as I knew this was always a good way to get a conversation going.

As I prepared myself to hear what I hoped would be an amusing ditty about how her grandkids had been sick on Donald Duck at Disneyland or something similar, what actually occured next was somewhat different;

“So are you with your family over here then?” I quizzed.

“Oh yes, me and my husband are staying in our sons house by the beach in Santa Barbara”.

“Oh lucky you! Jesus, your son’s doing alright for himself then aye!?” I responded, with a jovial tone in my voice.

“No not really” she replied looking emotional, “he died last week and we are in the States to look after his home until the funeral”.

Naturally, as I had no idea how to respond to this earth shattering revelation, I did what any mature, grown up individual would do. Yep that's right, I frantically rang the bell to get off at the next stop whilst desperately trying to yank my foot out of my mouth.

Anyway my advice is still go with the ‘how’s the family?’ question during awkward silence moment, but make sure you are within a few yards of an escape route just in case one of their offspring has gone the way of the dodo the previous week.

3. Talk about the weekend.

This is normally a good one because if it’s a Monday or Tuesday you can use the old “how was your weekend?” opening gambit, or if it’s a Thursday or Friday you can go with “what you up to at the weekend?”, and then just sit back and wait for a quick run down on what they did or are going to do.

However there are two ways that things can go downhill from this point. The first is that they respond with “Err nothing really” and don’t follow it up with a “how was yours?” or “what you doing?”. This is awkward as in order to break the silence you are left to just come across all arrogant by talking about your own weekend as if responding to a question that nobody has even asked and are probably therefore not remotely interested in hearing the answer to.

The second problem can arise if it’s a Wednesday, because at this point it’s too early to chat about the upcoming weekend and too late to ask about the last one. In this situation there are still choices; you can go with the obligatory "yay it's hump day" line and end up looking like a bit of a pervert, or alternatively go for the “how’s the family” tactic and then just hope one of them hasn’t recently dropped dead.

4. Drink excessively.

When sitting face to face on a date and you realise relatively quickly it isn’t exactly going swimmingly, I am sure many of us have tried to liven things up somewhat by drinking quicker than one normally would. This can of course work well and as the booze starts to flow then the silences that were previously abundant are often replaced by two people delivering more waffle than an American diner and chatting away as if they’d been best friends since birth. However the problem with this can be of course that unless you stay drunk for THE REST OF YOUR LIVES, at some point you are both going to have to realise that a second date would be a massive waste of everyones time. Still as a one off then it's most certainly worth it.

5. Talk about the weather.

This is pretty much us Brits default technique to break silences. You see no matter if the weather is good, bad or indifferent we have an opening line for any occasion. If it’s raining and you get in the work lift with Colin from finance you can go with;

“This weather aye? Bloody rain, it’s meant to be summer, what’s going on?”. This will then lead to a brief and rather dull discussion between you and your uncomfortable silence fearing counterpart about how shit the weather is in the UK and how it makes us all depressed and not want to get out of bed in the morning. A bit like Jeremy Kyle you could argue, but probably slightly less irritating.

Or alternatively if it’s sunny you can go with;

“This weather aye! Great isn’t it? The sun makes such a difference, it actually makes me happy to get out of bed in the morning”. The only problem with this one is that sometimes, if you’re in the work lift with one of the more miserable or portly members of the office, the response can come back as “yeah it is roasting out there, but it’s too hot if you ask me”.

Too hot?! We are in England, the only time our streets get too hot is when the hood rats are out rioting and burning down furniture shops for no reason, otherwise “too hot” is an impossibility. Still, no mater if the person is talking drivel or not, you can’t deny that having a weather system with more highs and lows than a night in with Bruce Forsyth really does help us Brits out of any silent predicament we may be in.

6. Lie.

It sounds bad, but when things are getting desperate, in sheer panic I have been known to whip out the occasional white lie just to fill time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not something I am proud of and I’m not declaring something ridiculous like I can turn water into wine or perhaps get Michael Owen fit enough to play two games in two months, but when required, I will say whatever I need to just to break the silence.

Now this isn’t something that happens in regular situations. No it is reserved purely for those moments, like a terrible date, where the silences are so bad that you can actually hear the footsteps of your thoughts as they run desperately through your mind. It’s at this point a quick lie such as "Sorry but I need to leave immediately, my Cat 'Scurvy' has text and he's only gone and locked himself out" is totally justifiable.

7. Pretend you need the toilet.

Now I am pretty sure everyone has done this one. You’re at the work christmas party, or on a night out with some mates and end up stuck chatting with someone who, although nice enough, you have literally nothing in common with. So after about half an hour of awkwardly chatting about the weather, work and their hopefully healthy family, you get to a point where you need to escape without hurting their feelings. The problem is of course that once you’ve declared the need for the toilet you then have to go or they’ll spot you’ve just snuck off and started talking to someone else. This is of course fine if you need to go, but if you don’t then you could potentially end up standing in a toilet with your wee willy winkle out for no reason whatsoever. Well not one you can successfully explain to the guy in the urinal next to you anyway.

8. Kiss.

Now I have never been the perpetrator of such frivolous behaviour myself. However I have been on an appalling date before where the girl kept swooping in for a kiss in what I can only assume was her ill advised attempt to break the monotony of the evening as we’d spent most of the night in silence, frequently looking out the window and probably both wondering where it all went wrong. I could have maybe understood the attempted kissing if I was some kind of irresistible fella with come to bed eyes and a body to die for, but I’m not; one of my eyes is occasionally lazy and my body has all the tone of an X factor reject, so her attempts to lock lips seemed both misguided and foolish. It did break the silences however, so well played Madame, well played.

9. Hide.

It sounds ridiculous and like the actions of a child, but one way to avoid an awkward silence is to keep your wits about you as you approach the train station, bus stop, work lift and if you spot someone you know that you don’t want to talk to, then just hide from them! Now this can be behind a newspaper, up a tree or a quick dive into a bush, as any of these will be better than the silence that will no doubt ensue if you get stuck with your nemesis on a thirty minute train ride to work. Also you can be sure that they are just as happy not to see you as you are to have seen them. Just be careful however that you don’t see each other at the same time and end up in the same bush, as then things can get weird.

10. Run.

Similar to hiding, running is also a good idea in this situation. Again it’s a tad childish, but if you leave somewhere at the same time as someone you have little to talk to about, then running away whilst declaring “gotta dash, I have a train to catch” is always a good shout. The only problem can be if you both have the same idea, as then you are left running together whilst both knowing deep down that neither of you really needs to doing what you’re doing but can’t stop as then you know you’ll be rumbled. It’s most certainly worth a go though.

The End