Having decided a life sitting in a traffic jam on the A3 is no life at all, I quit my job in Ewell and have once again joined the realms of the journalistic unemployed. I am now tittering on the brink of working as a radio freelancer, and I can tell you, the prospect of it is playing havoc with my sleep.
If you've ever had a dream where you're back in school taking a GCSE exam, you haven't revised (in fact you've even lost the ability to read the exam paper) and you look down and for some inexplicable reason you're naked, you might understand where I'm coming from here.
Going 'on-air' and trying to read the news while thinking *oh-my-god-someone-might-actually-be-listening-what-if-I-accidentally-say-willy-or-lose-the-ability-to-talk* is a pretty vulnerable feeling, as you can imagine. It's bad enough in real life, but unfortunately my subconscious can make it an awful lot worse.
Suddenly, I'm not only trying to read the news, with a multitude of unpronounceable football players' names, I've also realised I haven't got a microphone, I've lost the ability to speak English and looking down, predictably, I'm naked. Worst of all, for some bizarre reason a selection of my old secondary school teachers are pointing and laughing at me from the other studio...
I know what you're thinking; wow – what a psycho. But hopefully with a whole week's worth of shifts next week, it'll all be old hat by next Friday and I can find something else to have bizarre dreams about.
Possibly an even scarier prospect related to freelance broadcast journalism is that I now have to do my own taxes. Asking around, I've received a dizzying array of advice about this including that I might even be able to claim haircuts back from the tax man... hmmmm.... Anyone know a friendly accountant?? The last thing I want is stressed out tax return dreams. I dread to think what they'd be like...
So the big news this week, of course, was the election being called on Tuesday. I started to wonder if there was a major swing seat I'd never heard of because all the newsreaders kept saying; 'So now Gordon Brown has finally called the election, campaigning can now begin in Ernest.'
Ernest? Is that in Cornwall?
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Friday, 19 February 2010
The Frankie and Benny's test
Well, I've got to say considering they have quite a pick of exciting and breathtaking sports to showcase on the BBC from the Winter Olympics, it's rather surprising that all they seem to be showing is the thrilling game of curling.
I mean they've got a lot of great spectator sports to choose from; bob-sled, ski-ing, snowboarding or figure skating. And yet, no, those sports are just dull. Instead 90% of airtime is going to a team of people throwing an oversized kettle down an ice rink and scrubbing with brooms in a chilly imitation of lawn bowls crossed with cleaning? Even the commentators don't seem interested in it. The Scottish woman commentating at the moment sounds like someone's drugged her tea and the most exciting thing that's happened all afternoon is the Danish team's war cries during frantic broom scrubbing. Well, at least they're enjoying it.
And no, I can't change the channel, I've become strangely gripped by it. Maybe that's what happened to the BBC editors.
For those of you who are waiting with baited breath to hear how my Frankie and Benny's interview went, it was a strange affair. I was sat down in the restaurant with a man named Stuart who immediately said: “Right I haven't got a lot of time, so it's going to be quick fire questions.”
There followed a fairly frantic interrogation, during which at one point I swear that Stuart winked at me. He could have had a lazy eye though.
Then followed the Frankie and Benny's interview test:
“Right, here's our menu, I'm going to go away for two minutes and then come back and ask you some questions about it.”
“Umm ok....”
Well, what followed was one of the most stressful two minutes of my life as I frantically tried to memorise about 100 dishes on an 8 page menu.
Stuart returned and sat down, looking rather smug. “Don't worry, we don't actually expect you to memorise it, you can keep it in front of you while I ask some questions.”
Umm, right so this was actually a test that I can read? Well thanks, I nearly passed out with the pressure.
Still, when asked about the Caribbean pizza I did manage to say it had chicken on it, even though it was down on the menu as the vegetarian option. So failed the reading test then, no wonder they haven't called...
I mean they've got a lot of great spectator sports to choose from; bob-sled, ski-ing, snowboarding or figure skating. And yet, no, those sports are just dull. Instead 90% of airtime is going to a team of people throwing an oversized kettle down an ice rink and scrubbing with brooms in a chilly imitation of lawn bowls crossed with cleaning? Even the commentators don't seem interested in it. The Scottish woman commentating at the moment sounds like someone's drugged her tea and the most exciting thing that's happened all afternoon is the Danish team's war cries during frantic broom scrubbing. Well, at least they're enjoying it.
And no, I can't change the channel, I've become strangely gripped by it. Maybe that's what happened to the BBC editors.
For those of you who are waiting with baited breath to hear how my Frankie and Benny's interview went, it was a strange affair. I was sat down in the restaurant with a man named Stuart who immediately said: “Right I haven't got a lot of time, so it's going to be quick fire questions.”
There followed a fairly frantic interrogation, during which at one point I swear that Stuart winked at me. He could have had a lazy eye though.
Then followed the Frankie and Benny's interview test:
“Right, here's our menu, I'm going to go away for two minutes and then come back and ask you some questions about it.”
“Umm ok....”
Well, what followed was one of the most stressful two minutes of my life as I frantically tried to memorise about 100 dishes on an 8 page menu.
Stuart returned and sat down, looking rather smug. “Don't worry, we don't actually expect you to memorise it, you can keep it in front of you while I ask some questions.”
Umm, right so this was actually a test that I can read? Well thanks, I nearly passed out with the pressure.
Still, when asked about the Caribbean pizza I did manage to say it had chicken on it, even though it was down on the menu as the vegetarian option. So failed the reading test then, no wonder they haven't called...
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
A trainee journalist's first task
So here I am, I've made it, I'm a qualified trainee journalist (well, pending exam results). And I'm about to do the thing that most trainee journalists do these days as soon as they finish their course; sign on. I'm joining the ranks of the 2.5 million other unemployed in Britain to spend my days trawling job websites, making paper aeroplanes and compiling inventories of all the things I could sell in my flat on ebay (holey socks anyone?).
Me and Joe went on a mass CV drop yesterday in the hope of securing a bar or restaurant job to fill our days. It was quite a good double act actually – it sort of went;
Joe: “I'm looking for a part time job.”
Bethan: “So am I!”
Joe and Bethan together: “Can we hand in our CV's?” *winning smiles with optional jazz hands*
Well, we must have done something right because just an hour later we had a call from Paul at Frankie and Benny's asking us in for an interview. I supremely enjoyed telling my mum on the phone:
“Mum, guess what?”
“What?”
“Me and Joe have both got interviews!”
“That's fantastic!”
“I KNOW, guess where?”
“Where?!!”
“Frankie and Benny's”
“Oh...”
One of the great advantages I have already discovered about being unemployed is that I have the time to very thoroughly read the local newspaper. Yesterday, while idling through the personal announcements I discovered something very disturbing indeed. One baby, who was celebrating his first birthday, had no less than four birthday wishes in the paper from four different members of his family! I mean considering there were only 7 birthday announcements in the entire paper, that's pretty good going. I wonder if they all realise that babies rarely read newspapers...
Me and Joe went on a mass CV drop yesterday in the hope of securing a bar or restaurant job to fill our days. It was quite a good double act actually – it sort of went;
Joe: “I'm looking for a part time job.”
Bethan: “So am I!”
Joe and Bethan together: “Can we hand in our CV's?” *winning smiles with optional jazz hands*
Well, we must have done something right because just an hour later we had a call from Paul at Frankie and Benny's asking us in for an interview. I supremely enjoyed telling my mum on the phone:
“Mum, guess what?”
“What?”
“Me and Joe have both got interviews!”
“That's fantastic!”
“I KNOW, guess where?”
“Where?!!”
“Frankie and Benny's”
“Oh...”
One of the great advantages I have already discovered about being unemployed is that I have the time to very thoroughly read the local newspaper. Yesterday, while idling through the personal announcements I discovered something very disturbing indeed. One baby, who was celebrating his first birthday, had no less than four birthday wishes in the paper from four different members of his family! I mean considering there were only 7 birthday announcements in the entire paper, that's pretty good going. I wonder if they all realise that babies rarely read newspapers...
Monday, 18 January 2010
A rather scathing review...
I'm sorry oddsocks. I strongly believe your hearts are in the right place but I just don't get your play. Scathing review follows:
When Juliet implores, 'Romeo Romeo, where for art thou Romeo?'; should the response ever be, 'He's behind you'?
Judging by Oddsocks Theatre Company's pantomime interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, the answer to that is an unequivocal no.
Their interpretation of the timeless Shakespeare play is set in the middle of modern day Italy with plenty of slapstick humour and the warring Montague and Capulet clans depicted as rival restaurant owners.
The audience was drilled right from the beginning by the cast to shout 'pizza' every time the word 'Montague' is spoken, while making a hand gesture at the other side, and at 'Capulet' the remaining half had to shout back 'pasta'.
By the end of a two and a half hour play, that joke was getting old. And so was the fact that in her chavvy portrayal of Juliet, Tanya Huq ended most of her speeches with 'innit'.
No one can deny that there is a lot of humour in Shakespeare's tragic love story but Oddsocks beat out this humour at the cost of every other emotion in the play.
Presumably their aim is to make Shakespeare's play accessible to a younger audience and appealing to families. Certainly, there was a group of primary school children at the theatre who enjoyed the performance immensely.
But should we be so desperate to get younger and younger children interested in Shakespeare's tragedies? After all, Romeo and Juliet is about love, sex, gang war and suicide. It's a bit like trying to make The Godfather suitable for eight year olds.
The passion and energy of Oddsocks theatre company cannot be denied, but numerous issues let the performance down. For example, four songs were inserted into the play and the fact that none of the cast members could really carry a tune made them quite painful.
The phoney Italian accents they adopted were also grating by the end, which was not helped by Neil Craig's Romeo sounding Welsh and Juliet's accent gaining a decidedly Russian twang through the evening.
All in all, Oddsocks' performance at the New Theatre Royal, Portsmouth on January 7 really missed the mark. Not only had the raw emotion and tension in the play totally disappeared, but it wasn't that funny either.
Oddsocks also played at the theatre on January 8 and are touring the UK with the production.
When Juliet implores, 'Romeo Romeo, where for art thou Romeo?'; should the response ever be, 'He's behind you'?
Judging by Oddsocks Theatre Company's pantomime interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, the answer to that is an unequivocal no.
Their interpretation of the timeless Shakespeare play is set in the middle of modern day Italy with plenty of slapstick humour and the warring Montague and Capulet clans depicted as rival restaurant owners.
The audience was drilled right from the beginning by the cast to shout 'pizza' every time the word 'Montague' is spoken, while making a hand gesture at the other side, and at 'Capulet' the remaining half had to shout back 'pasta'.
By the end of a two and a half hour play, that joke was getting old. And so was the fact that in her chavvy portrayal of Juliet, Tanya Huq ended most of her speeches with 'innit'.
No one can deny that there is a lot of humour in Shakespeare's tragic love story but Oddsocks beat out this humour at the cost of every other emotion in the play.
Presumably their aim is to make Shakespeare's play accessible to a younger audience and appealing to families. Certainly, there was a group of primary school children at the theatre who enjoyed the performance immensely.
But should we be so desperate to get younger and younger children interested in Shakespeare's tragedies? After all, Romeo and Juliet is about love, sex, gang war and suicide. It's a bit like trying to make The Godfather suitable for eight year olds.
The passion and energy of Oddsocks theatre company cannot be denied, but numerous issues let the performance down. For example, four songs were inserted into the play and the fact that none of the cast members could really carry a tune made them quite painful.
The phoney Italian accents they adopted were also grating by the end, which was not helped by Neil Craig's Romeo sounding Welsh and Juliet's accent gaining a decidedly Russian twang through the evening.
All in all, Oddsocks' performance at the New Theatre Royal, Portsmouth on January 7 really missed the mark. Not only had the raw emotion and tension in the play totally disappeared, but it wasn't that funny either.
Oddsocks also played at the theatre on January 8 and are touring the UK with the production.
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