Author: Ian “Air Travel Regulations” McIver

Avatar The Face Update – Round Two

What you didn’t know is that secretly I wanted most of my face to be a giant mouth.

Hello and welcome back to my face. Nice to have you back. I have hinted at the technological advances in previous messages (in fact, there’s been a lot of bants about my visa/volto) so without further ado I present you with My Face Version 2.0:

1. Original Eyes – the original but not necessarily the best, as my prescription gradually gets worse with each opticians appointment.

2. Viewing Eyes – for my viewing pleasure.

3. Peering Eyes – the ones my peers are most jealous of.

4. Seeing Eyes – the best sight that money can buy (or chin boobs as someone once referred to them as).

5. Glimpsing Eyes – I’m sorry, was that a cat carrier full of empty beer cans? Let me take a glimpse.

6. Spotting Eyes – still a good back up pair when peering is out of the question. They have been moved from the top of the ear to underneath so the ear itself now also looks like a face. Handy.

7. Looking Eyes – guaranteed to help when trying to choose between buying one unnecessary thing and another unnecessary thing.

And now for the upgrades:

8. Noticing Eyes – when you can’t quite believe what you saw and need a second opinion.

9. Perception Eyes – or percepting eyes, able to perceive things for what they really are.

10. Mysterious Eyes – for confusing people and running away when you’ve forgotten to bring your wallet to the supermarket.

11. Triple Eyes – when you want people to believe you have psychic powers, the triple always steals the attention in your general direction.

12. Poker Eyes – nobody will call your bluff when you’ve got these babies on show.

I was hoping to have more at this point in my life yet I am still very happy with all my sets of eyes.

Look at me (ME!) and be inspired.

Avatar Scathing Reviews – Personal Dater

I am being hounded at the moment.

Having recently discovered that one of the best ever sitcoms, ‘Community’, is currently being streamed for free via All4’s beautiful service (I know you’re not keen because of the shambles with ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’, Chris) I have been stuffing my face into it as much as I can. I don’t remember when I started but I am now three seasons in and ready to start the fourth. The only problem with a free service though is that you are repeatedly beaten about the head by adverts, noticeably the same four or five adverts over and over again. In particular you get one advert with some berky babies twatting about in a field, one advert about some airline that sponsors the channel and one for the new dating program ‘Personal Dater’. Every 12 to 15 minutes these sonic pieces of filth are thrust direct through your eyes into your brain and there is nothing you can do about it because you’re poor and can’t afford to buy the boxsets yourself.

‘Personal Dater” in particular looks, on the surface, completely revolting. The premise is that society has broken down and people can’t think for themselves anymore, so a new dating program appears on the horizon. Two friends are tasked with picking between nine candidates as a potential date for their lovelorn mate who is struggling with life. As well as this, a computer picks the best person using complex algorithms and other such spindly IT nonsense. The person then goes on both dates and has to choose which they like the best, whilst their mates hide under a shoe and watch everything like the perves that they really are.

The individuals in question you barely see on the advert; all the focus is on the friends who, based on the thirty seconds you see of them, look and sound like morons. I was sorely tempted to put my fist through the television on more times that I can count on a standard pair of hands. Perma-tanned, muscle-bound, millennial dimwits in one episode and some brightly illustrated, shocked-at-every-instance gurning woman with her tiny male friend, who never gets a chance to say anything in the advert. I lost a full pair of teeth grinning in loathing thinking about it.

In order to offer a balanced review though, and against my usual process, I watched both episodes. Each is only about 25 minutes long so easy enough to fit in between my high octane lifestyle. What you realise pretty quickly is that, like with most adverts, it pulls the absolutely worst in the hope of squeezing your attention so that you do watch them. The two male dimwits, searching for a partner for their best mate, are actually really nice. They do spend a lot of the time grooming the potential dates for leftovers for themselves (nice) however you do warm to them. They have a kind of cheeky charm, normally reserved in advance for the next decade by permanently attached comedy duo presenting mega team Ant and Dec. They’re not dimwits, they’re only made to look like dimwits in a half a minute slot between scheduled programming. The too bright for my eyes girl who gasped her way onto my screen, again eyeing up male bits for any that wouldn’t suit her globe-trotting friend, was actually less annoying with a bit of screen time. They genuinely cared about finding the right person and despite some heavy exposure for Citroen at the beginning (are the candidates chosen on the basis that their mates drive the right car?) all in all it was a light and fluffy affair.

It shows how wrong you can be with first impressions. I had my feet up, pen in hand, ready to tear the whole set up a new hole only to sit, watch, shrug and leave with a blank set of notes. It’s not the most original concept yet it’s nothing to get worked up about. Judging people, I know, is so much fun but I don’t want to judge these people and this program. I don’t think I’m going to watch any more so I will safely leave it as a ‘good for you, not for me’ concept and move on. Hopefully the next time I see the advert (no doubt they’ll stop bloody showing it now I’ve written this) I’ll allow a little smile and try not to get as irate over nothing. Maybe I could do with more fresh air, a little less caffeine?

Ian McIver (writing as a diluted version of Charlie Brooker)

Avatar Blockbuster Gold 2019/20

I often start my posts with a question and this one is no different. What makes a brilliant film? Chris won’t know this, because any sight of cinema will cause him to explode so really the question goes out to… everyone else? At the very core you need a great idea, a smashing premise that you can hang 90 minutes of dialogue off and then charge people ten quid to watch it. Film companies have been doing this for almost a hundred years.

As it happens I came across the beginning of what could be a billion dollar franchise sitting right behind me. The story goes like this:

A very kind colleague in the office decided to make some cheesecake and give it out… FOR FREE! Offices are great for this kind of altruistic behaviour. Not just any cheesecake though, we’re talking Orio Nutella cheesecake. Sarah, who does bake but didn’t make this, sits behind me and occasionally comes out with delightful utterances such as, “Ghosts have names too you know!” She’s a gem. So after being given a lovely slice of sugary goodness she put her fork down and said, “I don’t like Orios, I don’t like Nutella and I don’t like cheesecake but that I liked!”

Boy, what to do with this? I jumped on the chance and immediately offered to buy the film rights. Which I did. For one Kitkat Chunky. I did also try to orchestrate a book and theatre deal however she shot me down. Clearly she’s been talking to other people…

So there we have it. I’m gonna have my people talk to some other people and very soon a script will be hitting my desk, possibly written by me.

Cheesecake Dilemma. Add it up: Mix and Snatch. And my personal favourite, Yes please cake.

Avatar Pie Shaver

Don’t you sometimes want to do something a little unorthodox? Don’t you want to live life on the edge? When someone points the finger at you, accusing you of being a boring old fart, don’t you want to hold something up and tell them that they’re wrong?

Don’t you sometimes want to shave a pie?

Behold!

Reuben and I did. It was a marvellous occasion for all, except the pie, which everyone forgot about and had to be thrown out.

Avatar Time Hole

Welcome to the Time Hole. Do you want to see the past? Do you want an insight into how things once were? Could you handle how much a time share in London was in 1982?

Regardless of how you answer these questions, it doesn’t matter. Let me present you with a recent find of mine. I “stumbled” across a copy of the Women’s Journal from 1982 (as you do) and inside was a bounty of adverts. And I do mean a bounty, because half the magazine was adverts. I don’t think I would have minded paying the 60p for it 36 years ago but my eyes would have screamed over from the sheer volume of glossy makeup, perfume, skincare, appliances and cooking apparel pornography thrust directly into my brain.

Luckily things are a little (little, I’m not referring to you, Little Miss Internet) bit more toned down for 2018. Let’s open the Time Hole for a bit. You like butters and spreads, right? So did people in 1982:

I was planning on scanning the whole thing but, as Emma quite rightly pointed out, every time you turned the page it creaked as though the glue was about to give up and run away to Greece to open a juice bar down on the beach.

I’ve never heard of this brand. I can only presume it doesn’t exist anymore, meaning that that the high demand referred to in the advertisement was actually baloney. Still, I’m sure 95% of the industry is baloney and the “butter mountain” was a real thing seen HERE in all its glory courtesy of our good friends at popular online wank-filtered encyclopaedia Wikipedia.

I wasn’t alive then but it sounds as though it was a good time for all.

Avatar The Kitty Committee – update

“Brothers and sisters…

… When I woke up one morning, the sun’s rays met my whiskers and gave me a smile that could not be broken. When I awoke another morning, I felt these joys amplified because another one of our lost brothers has been found. Another kitty has been returned to the fold. Though he may flop more than the others, though he may not be as robust as those who sit above me, he is still one of us.

May you take this moment to love and understand the newest member of the Kitty Committee. May you speak fondly of him to your closest work colleagues and occasionally send him fan mail.

As always, we are always recruiting so if you wish to join for the pursuit of naps and purrs do get in touch.”

Avatar Dear Beans… Terrific Tasty Terrier Tribulations

Dear Beans,

I’ve got a problem that I can’t tell anyone about. Only the anonymous helping hands of casa de Beans can save me. I am sweating like a scamp just typing these words. I will have to use a fake name so it cannot be traced back to me for FEAR of besmirchment. Besmirching? For the possibility of a bad smirch.

My dog, Lavish Kibbles, passed away a few weeks ago. He choked on a sausage mouse and never recovered. I cried for several days after and eventually I got my stuff together, and sorted him out. In order to save on costs and vets bills I buried him in the back garden. The only thing is after I dug the hole I lost all the mud (I think my neighbour may have stolen it, he’s building his own Hawaiian mud shack) so I needed a substitute. With only my wits about me, I turned to the contents of my kitchen cupboards. Thankfully I’d been to Costco the other day to stock up on essentials and I’d picked up a 600lb bag of Bisto. Using the gravy granules I covered up Lavish Kibbles and retreated to the sanctity of my living room.

The crazy Summer weather conditions continued. A hot rain fell towards the end of the week. With it came the tastiest smell, wafting up from the bottom of my garden. I knew what it was and I knew I needed to control myself in case anyone discovered my disgusting yet mouth-wateringly frugal ways.

From my window I can see a river of gravy starting to flow. In my dreams I’m walking towards it, arms outstretched, a gigantic breadbun in each hand, desperate to dip. I’ve tried making my own as a way of appeasing my tastebuds but it doesn’t smell or taste the same. Only the raw, disturbing aroma emanating from my back yard will quench my thirst.

What should I do; give in to temptation and chow down on my now ex-dog or look the other way?

Yours excitedly

Turbot Bojangles