July 2008 Archives

I've been boycotting Tesco. Unfortunately I'm not sure they've noticed.

My boycott is almost three months old and whilst I possibly wasn't spending excessive amounts there (£6,500 a year's a lot to me) I still thought they might've spotted that I'm not aimlessly wandering around their aisles.

I once interviewed the guy behind Clubcard and he told me that if someone stopped shopping with them they would know 'within three weeks'. Perhaps they now make so much money that they just don't care?

For over 10 years I've used Tesco almost exclusively as my main supermarket, my retailer of choice. I have some affection for their layout, for their range of goods and for their prices.

As someone interested in marketing, I'm even a huge fan of the Clubcard - up to £4 return for every £100 spent and discount vouchers for stuff you buy? Who could resist that, even if it does mean that they know you better than your mum does and have a better record of your shopping habits than even you do?

I've even used Tesco although it's a mile further away than my nearest supermarket. I previously had an aversion to the nearest one (Sainsbury's) because their owner put so much money in Tory party coffers. Possibly I put too much thought into my choice of supermarket.

In truth it's now hard to avoid Tesco.

I went to the hospital today. Nothing serious, I'm sure you'll all be uninterested to hear. I'm actually just trying to get on a waiting list.

A few years back I was told I had a torn cartilage. It took about 14 months and a scan to reach this conclusion, but as it wasn't bothering me much at the time it was decided to leave it alone.

Eventually, I was informed, it would probably give me some grief and I'd need it sorted.

A few years of running (or in my case advanced strolling and wheezing) and a couple of half-marathons later it has started to become somewhat more problematic.

So, I had to be re-referred to the original specialist who'd presumably put me back on a list to have the op.

What I hadn't taken into account was that I'd wait a few weeks after seeing a doctor, get sent two passwords in order to make an appointment (which random identity thief would want to steal my appointment?), see the specialist and then get another appointment for a pre-admission test, which was today.

Everyone has an NHS horror story in their closet, born usually from the expectation of such and from an over-reliance on a system that frequently has unrealistic demands placed upon it.

I'd chosen an early appointment, working on the theory that they wouldn't have built up a backlog by that time, and rolled up slightly early for it.

"Music was my first love, and it will be my last". So sang John Miles at some point in the 70's and whilst I don't have much time for the song I can't disagree with the sentiment. I've worked on the fringes of the music industry for over 20 years and what was an obsession has become a profession, I'm fortunate to make a living from something that started as a pleasure. Consequently it means a lot to me; three decades from when I bought my first record I'm still seeking out the pleasures of music.

One of the industry commentators I read regularly, Bob Lefsetz , has many opinions on the future of the music business and has often claimed that you can no longer tell what's really popular from the CD sales charts. Obviously he's right, given the decline in sales and how people really obtain music, but where he strays from the point is in the statement that you can really tell what's popular from the band T-shirts you see on the street. Clearly he hasn't spent much time in England of late.

I started as an interested observer of the rock t-shirt as fashion item boom, amused that so many young people would wear the colours of dated old rockers from the 70's and particularly the 80's metal phase. It was also a good time for me as I found myself having lots of fashionable items in my wardrobe for a change, by accident rather than design.

Unfortunately my amusement soon faded when one day working at BRMB and sporting a Ramones shirt, I bumped into a feckless pop duo who'd achieved some popularity by being on pap-idol. When one half of the witless wonders told me that he had the same T-shirt I was barely able to restrain my glee. After passing some similarly sarcastic comment in his direction I vowed never to wear it again, how could I be seen in the same shirt as some fool from reality TV?

My anger was compounded this time last year when I went on holiday and found myself sitting on a plane next to a man around my age. He was wearing an AC/DC T-shirt. They were the first band I ever saw live (at Birmingham Odeon) so I naturally complimented him on his taste. 'I don't know their stuff' he replied, 'I just liked the shirt'. It was a long flight but no further word passed between us, so deep was my contempt.

I guess it works like this: I am quite happy to see music create a fashion - tribes become easier to identify and music is so important to me that I like to see it playing a part in the lifestyle of others. Band T-shirts as fashion items is something else entirely. Music is a part of life, fashion seems vacuous in comparison - it's barely an accessory.

I know some people possibly feel equally strongly in the opposite camp, but they're wrong. I have always believed that to wear a band T-shirt is to almost advertise the magnificence of that act to others; it's a mark of ownership - a sign of your taste. How could you wear the shirt of a band without knowing much about them? Would my 'friend' on the plane have happily worn a Village People T-Shirt if the font was attractive and the design bold?

I suspect pop-boy knew nothing of the long history of The Ramones or their far more valuable input to music than his blip of fame. For all he knew The Ramones could've been rampant homophobes with far-right leanings who relished the thought of murdering young pop singers. For the record, they weren't, they didn't and they probably wish they could've.

It's not fashion, it's a statement. Don't wear it if you don't know anything about it. Or if you're going to wear it then at least do some research and make sure you're not looking like more of a fool than you clearly are. Finally, buy an official shirt - a lot of those bands could probably use the cash. Whether some of them should make any more records is another matter of course.

Disclaimer: The models/actresses gratuitously used in these photos may be huge fans of the bands whose shirts they are wearing and possibly not representative of this text, but I think you get the point.

When I was asked to consider writing these blogs (I know it's improbable that someone wanted me to do this, but bear with me) I thought it would be appropriate to give them a theme.

All the popular blogs seem to have some kind of theme, whether it's a home-worker railing against their multiple employers and cold-calling salesmen or something like a 'diary of a call girl'

Obviously these things can often be fiction, not actually written by either prostitutes or, even, girls - rather by unpublished authors looking for the newest marketing gimmick.

Whilst brainstorming (in my own brain, by myself) an intended 'theme' I thought I should also have a title, which I'd imagined might be 'Suburban Tales'.

This title also had an explanatory subtitle, 'locating the absurd in the apparently everyday'.

Before you see fit to comment, I already know that I clearly need to get out more, or think a lot less. In any case I abandoned the title idea, partly because I thought it might be too limiting - I might not see something absurd every week - and also that the length of the subtitle might actually exceed the content of the piece.

Having said all of this, and possibly already tested your patience, I am able to give you an idea of the kind of content I'd originally considered appropriately absurd.

I have cause to travel to London on a regular basis. This cause is 'work' or to give it a more vulgar but accurate form, 'money'.

As you might have heard, the new Mayor of London made a snap decision to ban the consumption of alcohol on the tube-lines which make travel in the capital such a joy.

Maybe it's the alcohol that made them a joy; this has yet to be determined. This ban came into effect on June 1st and Londoners obviously marked its imminent arrival with a night of partying on the underground.

As with many unofficial parties, the 'last night of drinking on the tube' descended into chaos and saw some stations closed by the police.

Nothing surprising there you might think, and indeed you'd be right until you fast-forward to the Monday after the event and my arrival at one of the tube stations that was closed.

My descent into Euston Station was rather more colourful than usual, because the entire arrivals concourse has been re-branded by an advertiser.

You currently find yourself surrounded by beautiful scenery across all the walls. These rolling hills and mountains can only advertise one thing - vodka.

So, on the day after the ban which was appropriately the morning after the 'morning after' the party, the entirety of a station which was closed by 'yobbish drunks' (© the tabloids) is now dedicated to advertising alcohol - a substance you're forbidden from using in the vicinity of the ad.

It is possible that the people responsible for the ad are revelling in the irony of the situation, and celebrating their cleverness in taking advantage of the resulting profile. I suspect not though, I imagine (knowing how long such campaigns take to plan) that it was a huge accident. A mistake.

The images are very pleasant, though. They are meant to conjure up the purity of the spirit they're advertising; huge pastoral scenes - the biggest of which is a picture of a giant Finnish lake.

Lovely, except that in the very centre of the lake, affixed by blu-tack, is a white A4 photocopied bulletin from the metropolitan police. The poster is seeking witnesses to a sexual assault that took place at the station. It sort of ruins the effect. *

In conclusion you may like to savour the slogan that accompanies the ads: 'vodka from a purer place'. Really, you couldn't make it up.

It may not be suburban, but it is certainly absurd and possibly inappropriate. These are characteristics I frequently embody, as you'll discover if you stick with me for a few weeks.

*It may seem even harder to believe but the agency responsible for the ad has a picture of the wrap on their website. The image they use is exactly the one I'm referring to The police notice is to the right of the red sign.