Trying to Give Money To The Betting Industry

I’ve been a bit busy recently with a stupid thing. I want to put a bet on my beloved and newly promoted Wolves to win the Premier League AND the Champions League within 5 years. I know some people think this is a crazy bet but hey, it’s my money.

Sadly, no bookies will accept the bet. I’ve started vlogging about my problems. Here are the first two. 

I suspect more will follow. 

Time For A New Revolution

Laura Taylor is a poet and a downright good egg. She kindly came to do Yes We Cant. The Poets, Prattlers, and Pandemonialists show running once a month at The Pretty Bricks in Walsall.

She did a poem about call centre workers and how badly they are treated by callers and managers. It was an excellent poem but it’s not the poem I want to talk about. Go and see Laura perform, watch her do it and form your own opinions.

What I want to talk about is what she said after the poem… it was a call (pun not intended but now I notice it I feel I should point it out) to be kinder to people. The line was:

Kindness is the new revolution.

Now if I’d have heard those words coming out of my mouth I’d have found it impossible not to start rubbing myself at my own awesomeness. Which is probably why I’d never say something this awesome.

Kindness is the new revolution.


It can feel like the world is fracturing around us. Social media, while promising to connect us, is pushing us into echo chambers. Any thoughts which slightly deviate from the accepted norm are stamped on until the person is silenced and if you can’t silence them… we mute them or block them.

Our media, politicians and even friends are breaking us apart. Making us all more angry, less tolerant and more sure we, and them, are in the right.

Notice the word “all” in that sentence. It’s on all sides. I see just as much intolerance for different views on the left and the right. No one side can claim a higher moral ground here.

I’ve been writing a one man show which has connections to these issues. How two people with the same upbringing, same anger and same frustrations end up lashing out in different but both destructive ways. I spend 50 minutes trying to sum up what Laura Taylor says in five words…

Kindness is the new revolution.

And if she said that in the outro to a poem… imagine how good her poems are.

Eeeeee Twitter Purge

I’ve just completed a Twitter Purge. It felt good. Like I was stripping wallpaper and I grabbed at a small corner and the whole strip came away in one go leaving a perfectly flat bit of plaster.

The purge itself wasn’t of people I follow but my own Tweets. It’s not the first time I’ve done this and I’m aware they’re probably knocking around in archives on various websites but they’re gone from Twitter itself and that’s a good start. If you’re so desperate to know something about me you knock around on Wayback Engine then seriously, just ask me and I’ll tell you. You’ll quickly find I’m not that interesting.

So why did I delete them? Tweets always feel a little bit “of the moment”. And what’s the point in having tweets “of the moment” when the moment was 3 years ago. Oh look, I did a gig in Birmingham which was mildly important 2 years ago but of no consequence now.

It’s not the first time I’ve done this. I have a clean out every now and then. I know for some this feels like a major thing but it’s just like clearing out the drawer stuffed with underwear. Sure some of those pants meant something at some point but there’s nothing like the feeling of new under crackers, is there?

This is something I intend to do regularly from now on. And you could very well be saying, “Dave, why bother?” But we could say the same about Twitter in general, couldn’t we? We could say the same about so many things. And let’s be honest, if you have thousands of tweets how many people scroll through them? Do you scroll through either your own or other people’s? I don’t.

And yes, data mining has been back in the news lately and it feels weird that these little thoughts I had while drunk in a field in 2014 can still exist somewhere to be targeted by advertisers, political parties and three letter agencies.

Plus, maybe it means next time we meet you’ll have a means of starting a conversation. You’ll question me and we’ll talk and breezes will be shot. One of us will get liquid refreshment then the other will feel the need to reciprocate. Cake will probably be consumed. At the end we might not feel any more connected but we’ll feel it’s been a fun couple of hours talking in a social setting and our phones will have remained untouched. And we will never Tweet about it, or register our attendance at this place on Facebook or post an Instagram picture of a cake. It’ll just live in our memories… and it’ll feel special.

Or we’ll forget each other exist.