An Insider's Account of Gauthier's Critic Observations

I'm currently interning in the marketing team at Gauthier Soho, a Michelin star restaurant in you guessed it, Soho. On my second day, on a quiet afternoon in the office, I noticed on Twitter that Alexis Gauthier, the owner, was in Duck Soup, a restaurant just down the road and was liveblogging about it through Twitter. One of the things I admire most about my new boss is that he says exactly what he thinks (no holds barred), so I hastily pulled up the Twitter page. 

Something you should probably know about Alexis is that he has, in the past, been unafraid of upsetting Twitter users and bloggers with his controversial Tweets and blogs: he caused a lot of controversy with his comments about his outrage that London Eating, a review site, allows customer reviews to be unethically changed so easily after being posted.

In this instance, however, he was not critiquing the food, but the critics from The Telegraph and The Independent who were also in the restaurant. He started off with subtle observations such as 'There is also another critic from the independent- can't remember her name because nobody reads her column.' (!) and carried on to express his displeasure for the Telegraph: '(Matthew) Norman is a bit loud in such a small restaurant. That's kind of annoying;', whilst overestimating the Independent food critic's age (that was never going to sit well. He was only four years off, though). At this point the Twitterati began to pick up on this and the story gathered momentum - someone was surely going to bite back soon.

He carried on Tweeting, and more and more people were talking about Gauthier at Duck Soup on Twitter (who are yet to comment):

I can tell you as an insider, much to the simultaneous delight and despair of the marketing team at Gauthier, it was all real: Alexis Gauthier was at Duck Soup commenting on the critics' every move. A considerable amount of people also misconstrued where Alexis was - he was not critiquing the critics at his own restaurant. but at Duck Soup. Even he wouldn't do that (well, I wouldn't put it past him, actually).

Then the drama started. Tracey Macleod, the aforementioned Independent critic, got wind of this and Tweeted Gauthier these responses:

It was like a tennis match. Who would pipe up next?! Then Marina O'Loughlin, food critic from The Metro Tweeted: 'So: @GauthierSoho - hero or complete loony?'. Jay Rayner, food critic for The Observer replied 'probably both' (to over 32,000 followers). Which pretty much sums up what everyone said. Later, Jay even conversed further with other bloggers on Twitter and put Alexis in his 'hero column'. 

People were still talking about it on Twitter in the evening, and even this morning. So what went from Alexis making casual observations about two critics in a restaurant he happened to be in, turned into a full-blown Twitter scandal (ok, so it wasn't Ryan Giggs big but it got plenty of people talking) and people were refreshing their feeds every minute to see what happened (I know I was). Gauthier came away from it all relatively unscathed, considering, and we gained about 50 followers in under 2 hours. By this morning, Gauthier had gained over double that in followers. Now that's good PR. It is good to be controversial sometimes - but use with care.

@GauthierSoho

www.gauthiersoho.co.uk

UPDATE: The Independent has been on the phone to Alexis for 15 minutes and they may run an article about his comments tomorrow - keep an eye out in case they do...

Here is The Independent's article - unfortunately, they seem to be under the impression that Alexis owns Duck Soup...

Duck Soup

Duck Soup is a small, friendly and busy restaurant in the heart of Soho, and I visited last week. They don't take reservations like quite a lot of places around there, which is cool, because anyone can get in, but also bad, because it is a small restaurant and if you don't get there early enough, you could be waiting at the door for some time (it starts to really fill up around 6.30).

Image c/o Duck Soup

The layout is similar to a lot of restaurant/diners around the area, with a large bar taking up most of the space, a reasonable-sized table in the back and a couple of tables squeezed along the wall (and I mean squeezed) - so you probably shouldn't come here if you don't want to be so close you can smell your neighbour's perfume.

We were handed a menu that was charmingly handwritten - I thought it was a nice touch. Unfortunately, on closer inspection, we couldn't actually read a lot of the writing and a lot of it was crossed out which looked a bit weird (not sure mistake or trying to look edgy?). Some of the menu was in Italian, so we had to ask in a most unsophisticated manner what about 7 of their dishes were, but the waitress was very obliging and patient whilst we made our minds up.

Once we had ordered the food and wine, we sat back (as much as we could) and waited for the food to come. It all comes out at different times, but it's a good thing as it's a kind of tapas-y set-up: we ordered a few small dishes and a few medium ones (partly under recommendations from the friendly waitress).

Our wine arrived (we went for a couple of glasses of the house white) and whilst I wasn't prepared for the yellow cloudy liquid (I was expecting a crisp Chablis. Not that I ordered it but it's what I expected of a house white. That was pretty prejudiced of me actually. Must try harder) it was actually pretty nice - quite sweet but flavoursome. The food arrived and it was even more impressive than it sounded like on the menu. We had:

• Deep-fried courgette with tahini yoghurt (amazing)
• Pork cheek on toast (far from what I imagined, it was a bit like parma ham: beautiful)
• Purple sprouting broccoli, anchovy, ricotta and chilli (some of the broccoli went a bit stringy after a bit but when hot, was tender and deliciously contrasting)
• Pumpkin puree, goat's curd and parsley (Easily my favourite, my only qualm that there wasn't enough) 
• Plump chorizo pieces (we ate this with sourdough, which was a beautiful accompaniment) 

All in all, it was a most pleasant evening with tasty, surprisingly filling food and friendly service but space was limited (And bring reading glasses for the menu)! 8/10

Annoying names you can call your boy/girlfriend / wife/husband

So, couples are annoying. Well, not all of them. I like the one I'm in, for example. But even the ones that are tolerable and I get on with still make me uncomfortable (that's the kind of person I am). You know, the times when you avert your eyes - when they kiss, when they hold hands, when they share a moment that you just know is probably some sort of disgusting shared sexual experience... And don't even get me started on people french kissing in public. NO-ONE WANTS TO SEE ANY OF YOUR TONGUE.

Anyway, this is a list of the names people call their boyfriend / girlfriend that just make my stomach turn:


My other half - so you are only half a person without them? Some say cute, I say you've set women's lib back 10 years. Because it's always a woman.
My hubby - I can't explain why this makes me want to stab them. It just does. Especially as it's usually by people who aren't even married.
The missus - See above.
My partner - just sounds a bit weird. It could be anything. A stone? Oh, and it's made 10 times creepier when 'life' prefixes 'partner'.
The ball and chain - Pretending your spouse is like prison. Hilarious.
Anything cutsey - like snugglebums, honeypie etc. Unless used ironically, it'll make everyone else vomit.

The Ancient Art of Greeting: Hello

I would like to think that for the most part in life, I'm pretty good adequate at social situations but have long been flummoxed by that dreaded 'hello'. You may laugh, but it can go horribly wrong. And being English, it is somehow so much worse when it does. 

The trick is in determining what kind of a person you are greeting, and what the situation is. If it's a work thing, or a bloke, you're probably safe with a handshake. That's still a minefield, though, because if they have a limp handshake, I almost instantly, inexplicably hate them because it makes me feel uneasy. Man up chrissakes, or at least pretend you're happy to see me! *

If it's someone you haven't met before, in a social situation, it could go either way. I favour a handshake because I can't really get it wrong and it's the most understated greeting, one up on the social ladder from grunting 'alright' and looking at the floor (a teenage boy classic). This is where agendas can clash. If it's a hugging thing, I usually go in for a straightforward hug with like, actual arms and stuff but more often than not, the other person will go for an audible air kiss and pull away - resulting in me not having done the kiss and am still clinging to said person. Very embarrassing.

If I do judge the situation correctly, and go in for one kiss, the other person will go for two. TWO?! Or even worse, more - when does it stop, am I supposed to hug them as well? Am I actually supposed to make contact with their face? If I pull away after one am I supposed to carry on if they do more or just pretend it didn't happen?

So to sum up, it can be very difficult to gauge the situation re: hello sometimes. My advice for other occasionally awkward beings in the hello situation: gauge the person, the situation and if all else fails move your head vaguely in the other person's direction. The rest of your limbs can follow if necessary (or just hang awkwardly at your sides, if necessary). In this instance, less is definitely more (unless you enjoy clinging to people for several seconds after they have pulled away. I know people that do).

* Embarrassingly I have been known to cry (usually only when I've been drinking) "That was rubbish! We have to do it again!" which will end up in a high-fiving competition. 

Threesome

I heard talk of the new comedy 'Threesome' on Comedy Central a fair bit on Twitter and thought that it might have some potential, the premise sounded ok and Skoose from Whites was in it.

So I duly streamed the episode on the website, which by the way, is pretty jumpy.

I tried to enjoy it. For eighteen minutes (I couldn't quite make the whole 21). But I just couldn't engage with it at all. The basic premise: Three best mates living together, one of them gay, two of them a couple. I'm sure that's been used before but it could work, right?

Unfortunately, there's not much going on plot-wise and I didn't even crack a smile once. The jokes were forgettable and the opportunities that did arise were thrown away (if I'd have coughed, I'd have missed the 'I can't even get paid to be a wanker' gag when one of the leads loses his job as a sperm donor. And wank gags are the best). 

So I probably won't be watching this next week. Well, maybe if there's nothing else going on. And all my friends are busy. And I can't change the channel. Perhaps I'm being unfair. But sometimes you just instantly take a dislike to something, and you can't quite put your finger on what it is - even the programmes that I'm a little ashamed to admit that I watch, I watch them every week because there is something there that I like. But here, unfortunately, nothing's clicking. Stay tuned...

Gig Photos

I took some photos at some Camden gigs. They're ok. Ok, well they're there to prove I was there...

Exit_International at Camden Barfly 16 09 11

Novella at Camden Lock Tavern, 16.08.11

Shimmering Stars at Camden Lock Tavern, 16.08.11

Twitter Crimes and Loves

I already have a guide of how not to use Facebook (Part I here and Part II here) but I wanted to do one for Twitter. Because Twitter, if possible, can be more annoying than Facebook. But despite boldly proclaiming that I would never get a Twitter two years ago, it's a really great tool when used properly. And sparingly. We all do it from time to time, but they are still... Twitter Crimes. However, there are some things on Twitter that have made me fall off my chair and it's also great because if you don't have someone's email address, just Tweet them - don't underestimate the power of the @ or even the #.

1. Using #hashtags purely because they are trending, not because you have something interesting to say. Currently #arealboyfriend is the Top Trend. I don't really think anyone needs to read them but they're all there for your viewing pleasure.

2. A play-by-play account of an event. Done well, it's hilarious. Especially when involving other people or unusual situations. Done badly, it's DULL. Like, even your mum wouldn't want to read it. Like:

• @crappyusername is watching Wallace and Gromit.
• @crappy username really wants cheese... Wonder why?!
• @crappyusername is going to the shop to get some cheese.
• @crappyusername got some cheddar. Sooo good.
• @crappyusername feels a bit sick.

3. Now this is a guilty pleasure. Twitter can be really annoying if you are missing your favourite TV programme (there should be an app for that. Is there?) but I LOVE reading reality show tweets. Particularly Made in Chelsea (particularly my cousin's) and X Factor tweets. The sheer cringiness of Millie's inability to complete a sentence and Francis' inability to talk to girls without sounding like someone's uncle is ten times better when accompanied by incredulous Tweets. It's kind of like the entire of the UK on Twitter unites in one thought. Weird.

4. Tweeting Celebrities. If you have something to say to them other than 'OMG UR LEIK FAMOUS HEHE' it's fine or talking about them, but WHAT IS THE POINT of talking to them purely to ask them for 'a cheeky RT because it's my dog's birthday'? You just wasted your opportunity to talk to your idol by talking about NOTHING. And if they do RT, well... You look a bit silly. 

5. On a related note, I once mentioned how (strangely) hot Neville Longbottom (Matt Lewis) was looking in the latest Heat. Heat picked up on this and RTd and I atually got a reply from the man in question. He said 'Hmm' (not the most epic of replies, admittedly). I think he was strangely pleased. Or  just really offended.

6. Celebrity Twitter accounts that are pages and pages of 'thanks!' and answering the same question twenty times within three minutes. Perhaps they think it's polite to thank everyone individually, but quite frankly, it's really boring, I have now lost respect. I'm looking at YOU, Stephen Mangan. 

7. Alan Sugar and Piers Morgan. Get over it. Your Twitter feud is now officially boring.

8. Minor celebrities trying to get verified. Up-yourself, much?

9. It's incredibly scary how easily companies can find you, depending on how good their social media campaign is. I've heard of people complaining about a company, and five minutes later are replied to by said company and placated for said grievance. I can't decide if it's great customer service or just a bit creepy. 

And that is why Twitter is both brilliant... And shit. I won't even mention that it's career-wrecking and career-making it can be. Well, I just did but you know what I mean.

P.S. Follow me if you're bored or if you think I'm even a bit entertaining or even if you think I'm a knob and you want to read my Tweets and think, 'what a knob'. Not that I do that.

@girlscoutuplate

Taking Pictures At Gigs: It's HARD.

It's great going to gigs. It's even better if you get some kind of record (so you can look back fondly and reminisce like, the awesome music, man) and also so you can boast to your mates about how close you got to stealing the frontman's towel.

As photography is not my forte, I just do it for fun. But the insanely cool people who are good at it, I have a lot of respect. Taking pictures at gigs is hard. First, you have to worry about obstructions. Being 5'2", there are a lot of obstructions. This usually results in photos which are mostly the back of someone else's head. Or bad placement of instruments over band members' faces. Like this:

Then, depending on what kind of gig it is, you have to worry about being bashed about by an over-enthusiastic windmiller or 'mosher' etc. which is not great for blurriness and even getting the subject in the photo. See fig. 2: No amount of photoshop could make anything except the bassist's guitar visible:

After all that, if you manage to get a decent-ish picture after all that, it's probably... shit. Because on your tiny camera they look like amazing pictures but when you get home and you see them on a bigger screen, they don't look that great. Because the seven pints you had whilst waving your camera around vaguely in the direction of the band are largely to blame. They were for dutch courage. And those three jagerbombs... they were for 'energy'.

Which is when you end up with this shot of a young man's crotch and rather larger, more impressive camera than mine.

So... people who take photos at gigs and still manage to make them look effortless and amazing, I salute you. I think I'll just stick to the reviewing.

Lisa Swerling's Glass Cathedrals

I was reminded today of a link someone sent me at my old internship and it put a smile on my face on a grim Monday morning.

Glass Cathedrals doesn't conjure up an image of a massive glass-fronted box with one or several tiny people inside but that's exactly Lisa Swerling has created.. With a multitude of designs, including a vast blue expanse on which is a woman on a lilo:

A collective of nuns:

And my personal favourite, a customisable one on which you can put the hikers on any part of the UK you wish.

Ok, so they're a bit pricey at around £400, but it's a really cool idea for the minimalist type. If I had money and a large amount of white wall, I'd definitely buy them.

All images copyright 2001 Lisa Swerling's Glass Cathedrals. 

http://glasscathedrals.com/

What's In A Name?

That which we call a rose... Sorry confused Shakespeare fans, this is not about Romeo & Juliet. This is about my actual name, which is a constant source of irritation to me (and occasionally a talking point). I was trying to think of a name for this blog and this is all I could come up with. It sounds er cool or something though?

I was christened Charlotte but I HATE it. I don't hate the name - very nice, normal name, but I hate being called it as my family decided when I was three that they were all going to call me Poppy (no explanation until I was about ten, it's a very boring story) and I got so used to this that I started to hate my name because it was no longer 'me'. Thing is, it suits me. I mean, you don't get opium from me, have a red face and green furry body but you see what I mean.

But how do I introduce myself formally? Can I really be bothered to explain EVERY time? Some people I've been emailing for ages have no idea that I hate my name with a passion. And why should they? Trying to establish my career as a journo, I simply don't want to confuse people as I am terrified of being credited with the wrong name - and lets face it, would you believe it was me if I showed you a newspaper with someone else's name in and claimed it to be me?

And thus, if I don't get in there straight away with the fact that I want to be called something different (and no, it's not my middle name), it's a bit weird (and largely irrelevant if I never meet them) and no, I do not want to change my name to deed poll. Far too much paperwork. So I'm stuck with two names and bemused looks from strangers I'm introduced to...

Shimmering Stars & Novella @ Lock Tavern, Camden

I have been going to Camden pretty much every week (and the North of London, for that matter), owing to the fact that someone's been planning all sorts of things that are near them in the North. Which, except for being rather convenient, is actually pretty awesome. I LOVE CAMDEN.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see Shimmering Stars with Novella supporting. The venue itself is pretty cool in itself - it's a bit of a rabbit warren on the QT, with separate upstairs and downstairs bits, a fairly spacious bar area in the main part and a tiiny room on top for bands to play in. It was pretty packed but it's my favourite kind of venue - cramped and close enough to your neighbour to smell what deodorant they're wearing.

So Novella (all-girl dreampop band) came on and started playing and I was instantly captured by their likeness to Sky Larkin, but in a really good way. As the set went on, I realised that they were much more dreamy, very cool and calm and kept the low riffs coming throughout - there was a lot of non-vocal time which was actually really interesting, and I found myself really concentrating on the guitars - dreamy, melodic and absolutely perfect.

Unfortunately, we only saw a little of Shimmering Stars (also dreampop but different) but from what I remember, were charming, fun and jangly-sort-of-indie-pop thing - not really my kinda thing but easy to listen to and pleasant enough.

Dream-pop was really fun, and great venue too (also, it was a FREE gig).

Awkward Things That Happen in Life: Part II

I wrote a thing about awkward things that happen in life. Here is part I.

The second installment - just as
awkward, if not more so. This will be less listy. Because I got bored of making
lists. If you would like to read the first one, click here (Ahem, I only just noticed I did not in fact link this).








Like when you accidentally make eye-contact on the tube. And again. And then again because you're
trying to work out who was looking at who (he was definitely looking at me, I
was looking back to check he wasn't looking still).










Oh, and when someone really
weird gets on and starts muttering to themselves.You actually look
around and make purposeful eye contact. And maybe even talk
('who does he think he is - we're united grumpy commuters for once)! And
afterwards, you remember where you are and bury yourself in your Metro.







Another tricky one is bumping into someone you know and
then saying bye, and seeing them again in every aisle - and doing the awkward,
oop, it's you again (but you don't have anything else to say to them, so you
just have to sort of smile apologetically, hold up your frozen pizza and shrug
your shoulders... And then you promptly start walking the same way. God, the
horror.









Also, let us just reflect on the pub -
so many potential awkward situations. Like one person gets their phone out to
check it in the middle of a conversation and suddenly everyone has
the burning desire to check theirs - five-minute silence ensues.Why do
we now have nothing to talk about? Oh, I know, let's 'check in' to this pub and
comment on our mate's post. It happens, I've seen it with my own eyes. 









And lastly - forgetting someone's name after five minutes. You could still smile
apologetically and admit you've forgotten their name, but
you're desperately trying to remember it, and it gets more
unacceptable to say it, and before you know it, it's the third time you've met
them and every time you want to attract their attention, you just sort of have
to prefix everything you say to them with 'um', and tap them on the shoulder.
And it's sooo obvious to everyone what you're doing (yes, even them)... 

Hoarders

I get it. It makes you feel closer to your favourite band, or TV series. You can wear your idol's face, or band name, or words he or she said to let the world know you're totally enamoured with them.

But what is man's seeming obsession with buying stuff that you will never even look at again ("but I'll look at it and think of the great times, someone might like, go in my room and get the obscure reference that the plastic piece of shit is something from an unaired star trek episode"). No, they won't. And even if they do, will you get one, five minutes satisfaction out of it? After that, you'll never look at it again and it will become a redundant piece of crap that you will look at every time you clear out your room once a year and think, 'I really don't want this any more and it's gathering dust, but paid five quid for it and it's got sentimental value." I mean, spend your money on something that you can at least (and will) use!

I am as guilty as any - in my university days, I built up a collection of about 30 shot glasses in the grand vision that I will one day have a wild party in which I will be able to use them and impress people with my world shot glass collection - but even if that day does come, they will probably be in my loft, gathering dust and I will have completely forgotten about them anyway.

Unfortunately, I seem to retain this sentimentality through not just shot glasses, but life: every holiday I go on, I will collect every ticket stub, postcards from every town I go to and every letter I’ve ever got. I seem to be really good at throwing away bank statements though. Funny that.

Office Tea-Making Politics (Yes, it's a Thing)

Ah, tea. Our saviour. The Briton's go-to in an emergency, a hangover and, well, when we just can't think of what to say (it's a conversation starter in itself - the sugar-milk conversation, which can go into a whole other conversation about biscuits, the weather... possibilities are endless).

It can be, however, problematic. Tea-making is a fine art - get it wrong, and there could be resentments for months. For example, the office. Ah, office tea-making politics. I mean, do you make everyone tea, or just your section? Just how many times is it OK to forget how many sugars (if any) your colleague has in their tea?

And it's different in every office - some of them it's every man for himself (but only sometimes - do I ask or not?). Most offices are pretty straightforward though, one person makes tea, that person asks everyone if they want tea. But there are still obstacles to overcome - if you are new, you're never quite sure if you're using someone's favourite mug (and you never find out 'til afterwards).

You might forget that they don't take sugar, or my worst fear, misjudge the amount of time in between cups of tea. It might seem silly, but an offer of a cup of tea too soon after the last one will be met with rejection (it somehow seems wrong to make one just for yourself); too late and someone else will make it. And you will have missed brownie points opportunities.

See? A veritable minefield.

Facebook Violation, or 'Fraping'

This weekend my Facebook was 'fraped', nay, violated, a total of four times by my little sister. For those reading who are a little older and don't know what it means (congratulations for finding my blog), fraping is well, Facebook rape. This regularly happens to me because I use someone else's computer and forget, or, more frequently, leave my phone lying around when I go to the loo when with friends, say (the cheek of it!) and to be honest, my Facebook friends are getting a little annoyed. Well, quite frankly, it's a lot more entertaining than many of the posts on my feed (what, you think your post about the soup you just made is more interesting? Okeeey).

There are several grades and types of frape, probably more common by boys (because it's like, well funny your mate is gay), but anyone can be a fraper (or frapee).

• There's the aforementioned typical 'lad' style status - 'Ian Jones is Gay' - hhaha ur gay, omg hilarious. Ahem.
• Or the slightly more creative 'let's change all their details: change sex, orientation, add some 'colourful' likes and such, which is great because it's usually not what the frapee would immediately look for.
• There are those ones that are frankly disgusting, usually involving shit, golden showers, bums or bleeding of some sort, and always seem to be picked up by that family member you'd forgotten you had on your friends list...
• The most effective, however, are the ones that would only be picked up as fake by only those who know you the best - phrases you would never use, cringey updates no-one would care about (this is my latest: "Ad a gr8 evenin with @___, @___ and da bruv! Deliverance and x factr. Perfect hehhee lol xxxx"). I'm still a little afraid that people who don't really know me think it might be true...

Islington Aventures

Continuing my London adventures, I went for dinner last week in Islington - from never having been there, I seem to be going there practically every week. Not that it's any hardship, as there's a lot going on.

We stopped for a drink at The King's Head Theatre Pub, which is huge and quite grand, but in a way that it looked really cool - I've heard from an (unreliable) source that it's Robert Pattinson's favourite London pub. Not a bad selection of beer and straight after work it wasn't too busy (but I can imagine it would fill up easily).

Onto eats, we went to Le Mercury and it was pretty good - reasonably priced food, with starters at only £3.95 (I had the duck for main course - it was good, a little fatty but then duck is), drink (we had the Pinot Grigio which was decent) and a decent ambience (though it would be better when it's not light outside and you can see the worn down candles in wine bottles (very French). And the crème brulee was pretty decent too!

Afterwards, to the Grand Union for a few more drinks. Seeing a long corridor leading into the pub, I was a tad dubious but it's a nice place. The music is good, current and cool, the drink is standard London prices, the decor is very cool, with floral wallpaper and lamps, plants and weird rugs on the floor (so kind of like your Auntie's house but with an American edge) and it's a pretty good atmosphere too, with an abundance of hipster kids congregating around the 10.00 mark (after dark is safe for them) but not detracting. Apparantly it's a restaurant, think American-style diner food (good-quality), with a total of 11 branches in London - maybe a return trip is in order.

8/10

Graze

If you haven't already had graze, you are missing out.

If you don't know what it is, it's a weekly (or bi-weekly, depending on how hungry you are), service for those who are fed up of snacking on junk food and paying a ridiculous amount for the pleasure.

Coming neatly packaged in a brown box, you get four little punnets of healthy snacks - olives, mini foccacia, nuts, seeds, dried fruit and now dippy things (I'm really excited).

And you get the first box free. I meant  to cancel my subscription after the first free box, but I didn't have the heart to after I got a dried version of summer pudding (sounds disgusting, looks... kind of disgusting, but it works). And the olives. Oh, the olives. The reason for this particular accolade is because I got the best box ever this week - you know with variety boxes, there's always one shit one, but this one was perfection in itself (all items pictured). 

I should do their PR. What's that, Graze, your don't need me because your products sell themselves? Worth a try...

www.graze.com

London Riots

I just updated my facebook status (a rarity unless it's something offensive to someone) lending my sympathies to those affected by the London riots and was asked by my little sister if I was fraped. Well, that's the last time I reach out (it was weird). 

Anyway, the riots currently occuring in London are getting worse and worse, spreading from Tottenham to Peckham, Enfield, Brixton, Ealing and even Fulham amongst other places, as well as nationwide with rioters storming Liverpool, Bristol, Nottingham and Birmingham.

After Mark Duggan was shot dead by police in a taxi on Thursday after it is believed he started fire, people started protesting, non-violently. But soon the riots started and spread quickly around London, including Ealing Broadway which is only ten minutes away from where I live. Now 'protestors' and looters are claiming other excuses, such as 'Tory cuts', demanding taxes back and other. But these people don't need an excuse - shameless violence and greed are hid behind a thin veil of 'protesting for rights'. Indeed, some are not even making an excuse: starting fires, breaking into shops, mugging people and taking everything they can get. This image in the paper yesterday particularly shocked me:

Credit: Press Association

The riots are reported as being broadcast over social media such as Twitter, broadcast messages on BlackBerry Messenger and text and there have been talks of cutting off BBM for the time being.

There is already a clean-up act on the case, follow @Riotcleanup for news on what they're doing.

Awkward Things That Happen in Life: Part I

I don't know about you, but I delight in other people's awkward moments. I've had my fair share in life - I'm a little awkward on occasion. And the more you over-think it, the more awkward it gets, thus, the funnier it gets. Here are the first. But don't worry, it won't be like, you know, those 'hilarious' Facebook groups. Well, probably not.

1. A friend of a friend situ. You're with a friend and their friend who you don't know that well, and your friend goes to the loo, and you both know what's coming - and it would be fine, because you're already talking, but there's a momentary pause, that fatal pause, and suddenly, BAM! - it's awkward... ('I've just got to go to the kitchen, for er... something. ANYTHING.')

2. Silence at the dinner table. There's loads of you and you've all been getting on famously, but there's one tiny moment when one person stops talking and everyone is either drinking or chewing - shit, and you can hear the knives and forks scraping on the plates and every last gulp - the only option then is, 'terrible weather we've been having...'

3. When you just can't hear what someone's saying. You say pardon, and you've still got no idea, and then they say it with exactly the same intonation and garble and it's just easier to say 'yeah'...' or laugh. Everyone knows you just can't say pardon more than three times, it's the rules...

4. Seeing an acquaintance at the bus stop. Now, are you supposed to exchange pleasantries and then continue the conversation on the bus, or will they go to the opposite end of the bus and put their headphones in to avoid any more small-talk? If of the opposite sex, will they think I fancy them if I sit next to them on a bus that's less than full? Veritable minefield.

5. Making eye contact. Well, eye contact can be awkward in a number of ways, whether you're not having it, or you are. For some people, not me. Obviously. Like, when you look at someone in the street because you think they're someone you know, or a celebrity. And your face has the beginnings of the smile, and you're just about to open your mouth to say hi, and you realise that it's just a stranger looking at you weirdly because you've been staring at them for way too long.

Part II

Dan Clark Review

On Wednesday I ventured out to East London to see Dan Clark. It was in a basement. Sweaty wasn't the word, but well, it was more... intimate that way, I suppose.

The warm-up act was billed as 'interpretative dance'. Oh, God, what had we let ourselves in for!? We were pleasantly surprised, however - he came out in mime costume and a German accent, with a brief 'serious introduction', then proceeded to act out such classics as Britney Spears 'Baby One More Time' (encouraging audience participation), totally unexpected but well-executed.

After a brief interval (enough to escape upstairs into non-sweaty air and get another pint), Dan Clark came on. He did How Not to Live Your Life, and was also Johnny Two-Hats.

As I wasn't really much of a fan of HNTLYL, I wasn't sure if I would enjoy this - but he puts on a fairly good show - he was at his best when talking to members of the audience - mostly brutally rebuffing hardcore fans being frankly, weird, and befriending a poor soul in the front row. Other highlights included little bits of human observation, like losing his virginity (touching and awkward) and putting kisses on the end of a text (why?). That aside, I did find him obnoxious and arrogant at times, to the point of insufferable, but it was good, and he will do well at Edinburgh festival (this was a warm-up gig), definitely if his hard-core fans follow him up there. 7/10.