Boring 2010 sprang to life when Mr. Ward heard that an event called the Interesting Conference had been canceled, and he sent out a joke tweet about the need to have a Boring Conference instead. He was taken aback when dozens of people responded enthusiastically.
Soon, he was hatching plans for the first-ever meet-up of the like-mindedly mundane. The first 50 tickets for Boring 2010 sold in seven minutes.
“I guess the joke is on me,” said the laid-back Mr. Ward. “I’ve created this trap and there’s no way out.”
Monthly Archives: December 2010
UNUSUAL CHRISTMAS
It is Christmas Day.
I have not opened any presents today, nor shall I. In the Ward household, we have agreed that, in fact, contrary to the calendars and indeed the opening sentence of this blog post, it is not Christmas. It is an ordinary day.
I try not to write about my personal life on this blog, but I am feeling sentimental. My father is in hospital. He has been in and out of hospital (mostly in) for the past month. He went back in last week, and although we hoped he’d be back for Christmas, he had to stay in. “No problem,” I said, “we’ll just postpone Christmas”.
What does that actually involve? Obviously, no presents. My brother and I were going to cook the Christmas dinner this year, however now (in scenes reminiscent of that Morecambe & Wise sketch where Ernie says how shocked he was one Christmas when he went round to Eric’s house at lunchtime and Eric cries defensively “We like kippers!”) we are going to have beans on toast. I also had an idea of getting a digital video recorder and recording the entire BBC One schedule. A simple idea. “You can probably get those recorders quite cheap from Argos” I incorrectly thought to myself, and as a result, two days ago ended up spending a hundred and thirty quid on something which will probably never be used again.
There’s a reason I’m writing this though. I’m writing it for you. This is my Christmas present to you. I want you to realise how important your family are. Despite what I said earlier, it’s Christmas Day. Tell your family you love them.
No jokes in today’s blog post. Normal business will be resumed in the new year.
Merry Christmas.
TRANSPORT
An incomplete list of the various forms of transport I have used during 2010:
- Train
- Tube
- Subway
- Bus
- Coach
- Van
- Car
- Taxi
- Limousine
- Fire engine
- Police car
- Boat
- Aeroplane
- Helicopter
- Bumper car
- Lift
- Escalator
- Travelator
- Supermarket shopping trolley
- Office chair with casters
I have also used the following forms of personal locomotion:
- Walking
- Running
- Rolling
- Sliding
- Jumping
- Climbing
- Crawling
THE SNOWMAN
Almost exactly one year ago today, on Christmas Eve last year, I made a shocking realisation. I was watching The Snowman on Channel 4. They’re showing it again tomorrow. They show it every year, which is why I make no apologies for revealing any spoilers in the following blog post.
It is, of course, an extremely beautiful and moving film. I remember sitting at my laptop as I watched it last year, screaming into Twitter “THIS KID IS THE LUCKIEST KID IN THE WORLD” and “HE GETS TO MEET SANTA! THE ACTUAL SANTA” and, most painfully of all “WHY DOES THE SNOWMAN HAVE TO DIE????”
It was then that I had my realisation. The morning after the magical night before – after walking through the air with the snowman and meeting Santa – the small boy in The Snowman wakes up and rushes outside to see his snowman again. But, in one of the most heartbreaking scenes in all of cinema, the snowman has melted:
The boy, on seeing this tragic sight, takes out the scarf from his pocket, holds it for a second and drops to his knees. A piano gently plays in the background, and anyone with a heart starts sobbing uncontrollably.
But something isn’t right. There’s something in this scene which doesn’t feel right. The ground is still covered with snow. There hasn’t been a total thaw. Yet somehow, the snowman has melted. It doesn’t make sense. The tightly compacted snow of the snowman would take longer to melt than the thinly dispersed ground snow. How did the snowman melt? Perhaps all of the snow melted, and then a new layer of snow fell afterwards. Perhaps that’s what happened. Except, it would have to get quite warm to melt the entire snowman, could it really get that warm and then snow again so soon after? And if that really is what happened, then why are there already footprints in this new snow when the child runs out to make his grim discovery?
This “sudden and total thaw immediately followed by fresh snowfall” theory just doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe that’s what happened at all. I believe it was murder.
The Snowman didn’t melt. He was melted.
Who would murder the Snowman? Who could melt him? Who could possibly do such a thing? I know who the murderer was. It was David Bowie.
Before I explain why, I want you to watch a short video:
It is clear from this clip that the boy in The Snowman grew up to be David Bowie. It seems obvious to me now, but it was actually Caitlin Moran, the big-haired journalist, who first made me aware of this fact. Everything else in this blog post is the result of my own detective work, Caitlin just pointed out that the boy in The Snowman is David Bowie. I repeat, everything else is the result of my own detective work. I want to make this clear in case Bowie is reading this and, seeking revenge, decides to go after Caitlin. Bowie, it’s me you want. Leave her alone. Or, on second thoughts, go after her first and then come after me later. That’s a much better idea.
How do I know David Bowie killed the Snowman? Well, we know he’s killed before. In September 1977, David Bowie recorded a version of Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby for Crosby’s forthcoming Christmas special. Tragically, Crosby was never able to see this special as, just over a month later, Crosby was dead. A sudden death linked to Christmas involving someone Bowie had connections with. Coincidence?
Throughout Bowie’s career, we can see him hinting at his dark secret. His 1995 album, Outside, is a “non-linear Gothic Drama Hyper-Cycle” which tells the story of the “Ritual Art-Murder of Baby Grace Blue”. On this album, Bowie equates murder, the most serious of all crimes, with art. To kill is to create. This is what he sings in Wishful Beginnings:
Breathing in, breathing out
Breathing in, only doubt
The pain must feel like snow
I’m no longer your golden boy
I think it’s clear what he’s referring to.
Of course, the boy in the film doesn’t seem aware that earlier that morning he had murdered his new snowy friend (I’m guessing a few trips from the kitchen with a kettle would be enough to kill the Snowman). This suggests that the frenzied boiled water attack was so traumatic that Bowie’s mind splintered off into two parts, much like that of Norman Bates in Psycho after he (spoiler alert) poisoned his mother and then continued to act as if she were still alive and murdered a series of women whilst wearing her clothes.
Jump they say.
He’s a dangerous man and he needs to be stopped before he kills again.
REMIX THREE
I have remixed “Love Is The Drug” by Roxy Music:
