pezzaruss

A simple comment started the ball rolling for this article. "I could have been at home watching the X-factor" was the line that did it. Truthfully though, it was not so much the words, as the rye grin that followed.

The comment came whilst standing in the back room of a local pub in one of the Shires, watching the progression of an open mic night.

A hand full of acts, armed with guitars and the desire to entertain, procured a space on the makeshift stage. Bestowing upon us a mixture of songs, some selected the well known, while others chose from their own writings.

A new face took the platform, almost rigid with fear, but a good adrenaline filled fear. He announced to his audience that this was his first time. Unlike his collaborator, he was unable to hide behind an acoustic guitar. He adopted his first stance with a small barrier of unyielding arms, but as we were to find out, there was no need for this defence. As guitar tones continued to ring out, the newcomers voice started to become stronger. Finally, with confidence growing, he belted out his final song. He’d made it through to the next round…of drinks, that is.

The time came for Landlord and his posse to take the stage. Having been to many a “gig” in the past, it’s a delight to see a group of gents with more skills than some of those I’ve paid to see, purely up there for the fun of it. There were no prima donnas, no hissie fits if something went wrong and no desire to hog the mic.

The next couple of regular acts, calmed things down a little, with acoustic sets. Some familiar sounding tunes to sing along to, all with the flare of that added personal touch.

A tribute to Dire Straits followed; with clean guitar solo’s that made a budding guitarist green with envy.

A younger set powered up by adding a bit of Hendrix to the mix. The recognisable want to get it right was evident in the playing. Fear not, the crowd loved it.

The final group distributed themselves across the stage. Once again, there was to be no disappointments with the blend of their own numbers and some fancy guitaring on a Pink Floyd rendition.

The female from the group was selected to bring the evening to a close.

A fine set of lungs

We departed with the knowledge that we had had a full evening’s worth of entertainment for the cost of a pint or two and a nice pint of real ale or two at that. By tomorrow the stage will return to a dining area, poised for the next venue in three weeks time.

I must now return to the comment at the start of this piece, mainly with regards to the X-factor. Having sat through this mind numbing embarrassment once, a mistake that I do not intend to repeat. I cannot understand why so many people are willing to be parted with their cash, by phoning or texting their vote to a show that, undoubtedly has a pre ordained outcome anyway.

I am told, by those around me, that some of the contestants DO have good voices. Well we can’t all be right, so I have chosen to back down, waiting to see how many of these GOOD singers, those around me buy CDs of.

I know that there’s talent out there, I’ve seen it, in a local pub. So why there’s a need to fabricate and manipulate the general public with this crass excuse for abilities, is beyond me.

Surely talent scouts could source a multitude of un-bridled abilities and make a similar show. One where the outcome might yield a worthwhile artist and that doesn’t just line Mr Cowells pockets.

I know that it’s been a mystery ever since cavemen first went down to the local stream to wash their favourite leather feet wraps.  Painstakingly pounding them against the rocks  using the latest brand of non-bio washing powder, drying them over open fires, only to find a couple of days later that one had gone missing.

It appears that I too have fallen victim of this phenomenon. A spot check on my sock drawer revealed that from a possible 23 pairs of socks, there were only 7 useable pairs. 15 socks were missing a partner. These are bad statistics in anybody’s book. If you asked anyone that has handled socks after being removed from the feet, the reply is consistently one of denial. I have tried to analyse this through each stage. The first area of suspicion is the linen basket; perhaps the odd sock was left behind, skulking about in the bottom? Not so, I’ve checked, nothing there. Next up the washing machine; is it the soap powder? Doubtful, other items would suffer from any form of corrosion as well. Is it the water? Well I think Noah would have been in some trouble, having taken two of each animal onto his ark, only to find half of them gone 40 days later? Next up, the washing line; surely this is the place that highlights the missing items. Apparently not, the discovery is only made when a selection is made to be worn. At the moment there appears to be no logical solution to the problem.  I am beginning to think that there are greater forces at work here. The theory that washing machine manufacturers are in league with knitwear companies to boost sock sales, I find a little far fetched. How does the machine know to leave the one sock?

Whilst conducting this investigation, I have encountered a possible source or should I say cause to the demise of the pairings. Apparently it has become fashionable to wear odd socks and I have a daughter whose duty it is to be fashionable.A covert extraction took place from the conflict zone of my daughters’ bedroom and two lost souls have been reunited. But this still leaves many unaccounted, for which I will continue the search.

After reading an item in the news just recently, about the rise in people undertaking their own dentistry using household objects, my first reaction was, what did we expect? With treatment in Britain being the most expensive in Europe and a high percentage of Britain's practitioners making our dental treatment private, thus providing less access to NHS care. Despite the governments reforms, many people can no longer afford the imposed bloated prices. Although this did conjure up numerous images of people with minds adrift whilst using contact adhesives, fumbling to replace a filling or grappling with pliers to remove that painful tooth.

In my view, we will in fact be making a large U-turn in attitudes to health in this country. Simply put, if you have the funds, you'll get the treatment or there's always the flight to Poland option. Where will the DIY end, out in the shed with that trusted old Black & Decker sander to remove that unsightly mole?