Accepting space and everything in it

[This week I walked by Professor Higgs. Last year I was in a room with the Dalai Lama standing 5 feet away from me, and I caught the gaze of JK Rowling in 2011. I need only “Skype with a warmonger” to complete the set. Anyway, this event where I literally crossed paths with Professor Higgs led me to this blog tonight]

First, you must accept the improbability of Everything based on a set of universal constants.

The order of atoms coming together at this precise moment in all of the whole “Everythingness” which means I am where I am, typing the letter… “O”… in a blog on a site hosted by the internet, on Earth, is highly improbable. Very highly improbable. I am the only Greville Tombs doing this and may ever do this unless Everything lasts a very long time indeed and every permutation is played out eventually again and again in a cosmic loop until this actual moment is repeated.

Which would feel like if Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure was re-released in an extended uncut version.

The chances of you reading this at the particular point you are reading this further multiplies the improbability of “It All”.

Why am I sentient now and not Robert Louis Stevenson? Why did Plato meet Socrates to discuss the concept democracy but will always be destined to miss the distracting concept of Candy Crush Saga? What am I going to not know immediately from the precise act of my death? What do I not know through reasons of the act of my living? Why am I to be here, in this place, during now?

Why was Helen of Troy claimed as the most beautiful woman in the human history when, thanks to FHM, we now can’t decide who is the most beautiful women in the next 13 months?
[It's always Winona]

Always Winona (RED April 2014, 3)

In essence, you, me, the invention of the personal pager, a funny looking cave, sound, water, asteroids, dinosaurs, leaves, annual FHM 100 sexiest women lists – Everything - All Of It - is a by probability product from a ridiculous set of probabilities adhering to base universal contestants. That is why I am here during now and not 333 years away still to be. That is why you are reading this and not being rock on a planet so distant it will reflect no light.

It is actually mindboggling. It might be the sole mindboggling thing.

Some say God made Everything. To prevent Anything becoming a god, Everything was denied the ability of the understanding of the meaning behind itself.

Now I can say this concept appeals to me. It could be the reason I can sleep at night. But then, the theory of when you get a weird shiver or jolt across your shoulder and down your spine for what seems to be no reason is actually you experiencing the death of a “you” in one of the infinite parallel universes [citation needed], each one created from every possibility, also appears to me a fair way of doing things. So, you know, I am not necessarily the person to come to for answers. Although I might be the best Greville to ask as, by my count, I am more successful at living than lots of me with every passing day. So far.

Second, you must accept humanity cannot create, but only manipulate and destroy what the universal constants supply. There is nothing more amazing and filled with intrinsic purpose than the eco-system – harmonizing, even on a brutal level, is what Nature is good at. The system is awe inspiring. Humanity is about breaking the system to its own limited inspiration and detriment. There is nothing as intricately gorgeous as a dragonfly about human development.

Except maybe Winona Ryder.

Third, you must accept humanity has the capability to simply put these huge concepts, ones which dwarf our importance and heighten it to beyond all reason simultaneously, to one side and get on with things. Things like watching Catchphrase on TV. And as a direct correlation of this, the third acceptance of the three rules you must accept, humanity invented the scam Cold Caller.

In the same week as walking by Professor Peter Higgs, a man who has rightly placed himself in the pantheon of humans who have raised themselves closest to understanding what's going on, I have been cold called by a human intent on scamming and scheming to their gain without a jot of care to my well being.

Thankfully I was sharp to their tricksies.

The cold call scam was abundantly see-through – which, as it was a phone call, shows how transparent it was.
[GT]: Hello?
[CC, noise of call centre which could have been a sound effect on a stereo]: Hello! Are you having a good evening?
[GT]: Uh-huh?
[CC]: We are a local company who has come into extra money and we’d like to share it among members of the local community like you!

Because this is exactly what nameless “local companies” do when they come into money. I actually think I read somewhere giving surplus money away was “local company” business strategy 101. Or did I see it in Die Hard 4.0?

[CC]: If you answer a couple of short questions, we can look to give you a share of the money tonight!

I presume the first question being my address since I am ex-directory and on the Telephone Preference Service List so you couldn't possibly have my telephone number by reputable means.

[GT]: Not interested.
[CC]: ARRRRGGHHHH! YOU...!

Click!

He actually yelled at me.

These cold callers, though, will get someone handing over their bank details, before you can press "go to checkout" on an amazon wish list. And they are often more sophisticated than this one. Some will even come up with a fake company name instead of "A local company".

Fourth, you must accept that because of the first three rules: a cold caller is contacting you because they want something, not because you want something. If you want a service then it should be on your terms. Check references, call the trade guilds, don't agree to anything or give details without a chance to reflect away from the situation for a day or three. Make sure you go and actively make the mistake, don't let the mistake passively come to you.

Cold callers, whether legitimate or not, on the telephone or at the door, are a scourge. Every cold caller is an irritation, unfeeling and (mostly) expert at taking money.

So, Cold Callers everywhere, remember how stupefying and awesome life is – you, like me, are made from tiny bits of Big Bang, still, if you can imagine it, we are imperceptivity exploding and expanding from a single point in the universe from every part of us. The universal constants, putting it all together from infinitesimal pulls and pushes capable of incredible force, have made atoms and placed atoms with atoms, formed cells, moved vast swathes of space, formed planets, a sunrise over Orion’s Belt, placed elements to carve details into the cosmos and developed almost impossible systems within autonomous systems. Over eons and (I cannot stress this quite enough) astonishing odds, a set of circumstances which, if understood, would make you a weeping God for the instant prior to your mind firing synapse burning lightening bolts with knowing It All, the immense, unthinking, unstoppable, and if it would recognise it: glorious, ultimate science has determinedly, perhaps execrably and if it would recognise it, beautifully, put you and I together in all our complexities and wonders and art and allowed us to exist in this too brief fleeting shared moment to appreciate it all and you chose to be motherfucking cold calling wank stain.

*slow handclap* Well fucking done.

Last night a dj playing britpop saved my life

I am now of an age where I can listen to the Sunday top 40 musical singles chart and judge it instead of record it on magnetic tape. Which I never did because by the time I began to listen to the top 40 musical singles chart, tapes were going out of fashion.

Yesterday I listened to the Top 40 UK singles chart. Not all of it. I am not a monster. I listened from 27 to number 1. My conclusion is almost everything in the charts today is either derivative, nonsensical or simply Star Wars noises all about hooking up with babes at resort swimming pool sides, or being babes getting out of resort swimming pools and meaning I can’t buy underwear without feeling bodyshamed.

Now I am going to make a personal comment about a song in the charts, which I will justify with a very long preamble taking in about 75% of my musical references first. If you want to skip the words, then feel free to simply enjoy the embedded playlist. Starting with this:

This is the most purchased song in the UK right now:

Kiesza / Hideaway


What follows is the six ages of my personal (potted) musical history.

THE FIRST AGE - IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS NO MUSIC 0-10
Key music:

Black Lace / Superman


Jim Reeves




Up until 10 years old, I didn't like music. I didn't really listen to any of it. At least not by choice.

My experience of music was either at birthday parties which were a mix of personally upsetting anthems about having fun doing actions excellent for musical statues, sung by emotionally rictus singers in oversized plastic sunglasses or, a lot of semi-religious country and western that my parents enjoyed listening to.

The radio in the house was tuned to a radio station which would get switched on for a Sunday to listen to religious teachings and debate and then a songs of praise programme.

OK, it wasn't the only music I experienced...

The family car didn't have a car radio so I would take the portable wireless we had in the house on trips with us. I'd pop batteries in and tune into the only station I could find which wouldn't fade in and out of static - given it was only a MW radio - Local radio. Whatever the local radio was nearest the road we were on. Queue quite a bit of adult soft rock.

80's popular youth music completely bypassed me and I reckon I was the only confused sole at my primary school disco who didn't know what BROS. was. I just stood there in the middle of the gym hall agog as my fellow pupils chanted: "We Want Bros!" over and over until the headmaster / DJ told us we would be getting Culture Club and like it.

I guessed Bros was part of the modern counter-culture including The Simpsons, which I also hadn't seen as a motion cartoon (and wouldn't until 1999) but practiced drawing Bart heads at break time nonetheless. I would have been happy with the headmaster burning his wheels of steel with something that sounded like the Beach Boys.

Let me explain...


THE SECOND AGE - THE VINYL HIPSTER YEARS 10-12
Key music:

Beach Boys


Edwin Starr / War




I was 10 before I was able to begin to explore music as something to listen to instead of endure.

My mother bought me a record player from a Scout jumble sale and I was allowed to choose a few records from the box under the table in the hall. And so my first steps into listening to music began with shockingly bright and balloon font covered LP: "Sounds Like the Beach Boys"

I loved that tribute band album. It was grooved sunshine. If that was what the Beach Boys sounded like, imagine what they actually sounded as!

More jumble sale vinyl followed and I soon had a small, yet eclectic collection: Tenpole Tudor, Tina Turner, Now That's What I Call Music 4, Motown Hits vol. 2, Billy Joel, Boney M, a multitude of Queen singles.

Part of the joy of Jumble Sale vinyl is the records are sometimes different to what the sleeves suggest and I ended up with a number of examples of this. What looked like the Smurf album could be anything: clearly a perfect sleeve front to something much more brutal inside. The smurf album did turn out to be the Smurf album, after all, but still - who else has heard the Smurfing Beer song?



I was a vinyl hipster right up to not enjoying music up to that point in my life!

Suddenly I was listening to spectrum of genres and I would listen to them, kneeling watching the needle rise and fall, intently at the lyrics. Beer, Beer! Smurfing Beer!


THE THIRD AGE - THE CASSETTE KID 12-15
Key music:

Donovan


Genesis / I can't dance



By the beginning of my teenage years I had a cassette player and my musical education began apace.

I had to rely on birthdays and Christmases for a music cassette or two so I had to choose carefully: The Beatles discography, Bob Dylan albums and Simon and Garfunkel collections were wise choices. It was a cold Christmas the year the latest Genesis album was under the tree.

Thanks to more jumble sales, soon I was listening to a lot of UK '60s music (Donovan, The Kinks, The Moody Blues) alongside the Everly Brothers and Buddy Holly held in black cassette plastic briefcase holders.

I started writing strange, little weird stories, inspired by Jean Michelle Jarre compositions hissing from tapes late at night.

Just as the 80's popular music passed me by, the early 90's madchester / rave scene was something which was not on my musical radar.

And then I was into my defining music age...


THE FOURTH AGE - ADVENTURES IN CD 15-18
Key music:

Black Box Recorder / The facts of life


The Smashing Pumpkins




The ages between 15 and 18 are the ones most important in music. I was in this bracket when cassettes were on the way out and MINI Discs were only just being considered as the future they would eventually be an integral part of for us all (mark my words!). It was the age of the CD boom!

In 1995 my parents bought a CD player for the house, putting it in the TV cabinet in the living room. This was just in time for me having more freedom to go out into town to shops with the little money I was able to accumulate from a part-time after school job in a month.

It meant that any time I had to listen to my music in CD form, I had to do so with the permission, and in front of my parents - but it didn't matter to me, I was now able to choose music no longer by medium: I was able to play any music from that day on.

Within a year I had bought my own Radio/CD/Cassette player in my bedroom and my record player was consigned to under a pile of old 2000AD comics.
-------------------------------------------------------

Last Friday night BBC Radio 6, in a culmination of a week of celebration of the musical genre, played down their chart of Britpop anthems. It took me back to my middle-youth.

Until this countdown of many of the songs I still have in my music box, I had never associated my taste in music as being so involved with Britpop. I wouldn't have thought myself greatly involved with it. But here I am titling this blogette with a praise to it.

As I say, I wouldn't have classed myself as enjoying Britpop. Certainly not at the time. To me I was "into alternative and indie music": The Cure and Pink Floyd. Most of it was not British: REM, Smashing Pumpkins, the Crash Test Dummies, Pavement and later, The Eels, Wilco, and Mercury Rev vied for laser rotation with Pulp, Suede, Radiohead, Supergrass, Dodgy, The Longpigs, Ocean Colour Scene and Oasis... and Cast and, well, The Bluetones, The Verve and the Charlatans... and... OK, I guess I had a lot of what someone may suggest as Britpop. Oh! Paul Weller too.

I suppose to an alchemist a Britpop band was differing ratios of The Beatles' willingness to come up with a tune : The Who's conviction : The Kinks' observational lyrics of daily life.

To me, not an alchemist, I reflect on Britpop differently.

Britpop was music which, crucially, was inclusive. It was non-gendered. A girl could be just as much a fan of Blur as a boy. Young couples could go out hand in hand in the setting sun in Oasis T-shirts. It let youth listen to music in their rooms together or see a gig on equal terms.

Britpop wasn't aspirational in the American sense. It wasn't about the greatest love of your life or power ballading through emotional excesses. Britpop spoke about grubby nights out when having a grubby night out. In Britpop, empowerment came from self-determination. Britpop sounded like there was a knowing of something else going on - there was a hint of political engagement with society and something more polished US music lacked: a wink of irony.

Britpop, and a key to its success, was music boys could unashamedly get up and dance to with girls. Shuffling in a ragtag manner with a beer bottle cradled low in the hand was a legitimate dance move you could get away with. It was music which boys could sing and maintain an alpha swagger of youthful male chic.

So, for me, Britpop was androgynous, contemporary savvy and let me be cool.

This was no surprise. I was dead centre of the Britpop project - the sweet spot of the demographic.

I had listened to a bit Nirvana and Guns n' Roses with friends and, although it was good enough - the tunes seldom stuck and the sentiment seemed too alien in my mind. The stories told to me by Pulp were more affecting, the feelings from listening to Oasis more rousing.

My first CD album was REM's Monster but my first CD single was Girl From Mars by Ash.

I heard Girl From Mars playing in the record store and it is the first - and last - time I have gone up to the proprietor and asked what was playing. It was a proper tune to my ears.

In the years which went by I remember moments exclaimed by Britpop albums I bought.

As a reward to myself for passing my driving test I treated myself to Sleeper's It Girl album. Sleeper was classic Britpop - tuneful songs about ordinary Saturdays and in Louise, they had the most adorable Britpop babe of all time. She was biomechanically designed in a Britpop lab by FHM scientists to stir things in teenage boys. Stir things like Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre.

There was a day I left school a class early and walked into town in black torrential winter rain to buy The Devine Comedy's Casanova LP and came home and played it straight away in the old CD player in the living room, hair still dripping water down my neck, mother cooking soup in the kitchen.

Clever music journalists talk of Britpop disappearing by snorting itself up its own nose. And there is something of this: The music did begin to play second to the stories of excess. But I believe Britpop had it's moment and it slowly and inevitably passed with the oncoming new youth no longer wanting to listen to what the "oldies" were playing and moved to make the next genre "theirs". It just happened to be more sincere: Coldplay and Eminem.

Looking back, Britpop was as novel as Glam Rock in the 70's. The Characteristics of bands are now cartoons. I am not ashamed to have enjoyed it, only disappointed that most of it now I would probably never listen to. Whether this is age or experience, I am not sure.

Pulp's Disco 2000, BBC Radio 6's number 1 Britpop anthem, is pure Britpop. It has all the alchemy elements turned up to the max. It is also a cracking song in any era. It was genre defining and breaking, as was - arguably - Radiohead.

However Disco 2000 is now very much of it's time too. It has dated, as it was written - unlike this blog - before Friends Reunited. The sentiment of Disco 2000 would have been very different if Jarvis used Friends Reunited like we all do these days.





THE FIFTH AGE - THE AGE OF SONIC 18-24
Key music:

Liam Lynch / United States of Whatever


Counting Crows




As the ashes of Britpop blew over the sand, I soon would be too. I was older and at university. Because I stayed at home, I didn't get to listen to the latest house music at house parties. Instead I stayed alone and my music was becoming more personal in taste as I became less involved in the zeitgeist.

There were moments of enlightenment at University: The Smiths became as important as Counting Crows. The Flaming Lips as important as Elliot Smith.

It was also a dark age, musically, and my musical tastes were turning bitter. I bought a Clem Snide album having heard Jonathon Ross recommend it on his Radio 2 show. I bought an Alabama 3 album from watching Later... with Jools Holland. The Polyphonic Spree from a review in Q Magazine.

I hit Slade pretty hard.

Best move on quickly...



THE SIXTH AGE - THE AGE OF A GREVILLUS! 24-
Key music:

Ellie Goulding


Grinderman




I have always been an eclectic musical collector and most recently I have loved finding music for all seasons. It is as if I have returned somewhat to my non-music liking roots, only this time I am doing it better.

I am no longer avoiding semi-religious country: I am finding the bits of it I like.

Indeed, American country music is a firm favourite of mine.

I am no longer scrabbling under tables in jumble sale halls to read the a-side notes of singles: I am searching recommendations for musicians I have never heard off on my laptop.

When the internet came, suddenly a world of music was available, and I have tried to embrace most of it. I am a big fan of Internet Radio and can tune into stations broadcasting all over the world.

I adore Ellie Goulding, her voice does strange things inside me. I am awfully fond of Lana Del Rey. Nick Cave is a favourite alongside the music of Ryan Kickland. I enjoy King Creosote and Yusuf Azak. There is so much music I have found which is great and not all of it in the Sunday top 40 chart yesterday.

Lana Del Rey



Fantastically, I am able to embrace what I thought was pretty much made up by myself altgoth - in the music bayous of the Death Country genre bands and Gloom-pop in the music of She Makes War and joyful tones of Einstein's Wardrobe.

It has inspired me to make the music I want (well... it's complicated) with Greville and the Tombstones.

And, yes, I enjoy a lot of the mainstream chart songs too. Kind of. Sometimes.

LMFAO




So, and here is the point of ALL THIS! taking this entire potted history of my music into consideration... I do feel I am therefore qualified here and now to say that this "song", below and positioned at No. 24 today in the top 40 chart is unlistenable drivel:

The Chainsmokers / #SELFIE



Actually, if the death of Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Richie Valens was the day the music died then #SELFIE by The Chainsmokers is something which came round late at night and dug the music up, removed it from its coffin, unloaded a full clip from a SIG P226 standard sidearm into the exhumed body, then set the music on fire and put the fire out with the shovels and then buried it back up again. And then played #SELFIE by The Chainsmokers through speaker phone on an iphone and had a good dance on the grave of the music. And took selfies doing it all and posted them on social media.

All this leaves only one question left: Who wants me to make them a mix tape?

Liebster Award reply

The lovely Pearl Sanguine, @c_m_m78, left a very lovely comment on my shed blog over where I do imaginary band stuff with my imaginary band, Greville and the Tombstones. Pearl nominated me for a Liebster Award.

I had not heard of the Liebster Award. For those who don't know either, here are the details:

If you are not aware, a Liebster Award is a way of getting other bloggers known, shared and generally getting the word out about them, if they have under 500 followers.

A few simple rules apply -

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you

2. Answer the 11 questions given to you

3. Nominate 11 other followers with less than 500 followers

4. Post 11 questions for your nominees to answer

5.Tag your nominees & post a comment on their blog to let them know you nominated them

 

 

 

It's a great idea, so I checked out Pearl's blog and got my questions. I figured I would answer on my main blog simply so I didn't feel the need to be completely altgoth over on the altgoth band blog.

My answers are truthful and I hope that means they are not too dull :)

Here goes!
 

 



Pearl nominated the following bloggers: 
1. Blooming Boo Boo at Blooming Boo
2. CraftyGoggins at CraftyGoggins
3. Mona of Mona's Miscellany
4. Stacey at peppanip
5. Tabatha and Julia at Thread Carefully
6. Hayley at Downs Side Up
7. Greville of Greville and the Tombstones
8. Michelle at Marshmallow Musings
9. Louisa at duck in a dress
10. Nicola at nicolabishopx
11. Sarah Elizabeth at Scandinavian On The Inside

And Pearl's questions for us all:

1. What's your motivation for blogging?
I was asked to start a blog by friends who enjoyed emails I wrote them. So this blog was established with the technical help of @Jaffne. There is little reason to what content I post on here, apart from whatever I want to enjoy writing for fun. And I do find blogging fun. Since I started this blog I joined Twitter and soon after expanded into doing a "band blog" which was meant to be a bit of nonsensical fun for my own amusement, but to my eternal happiness and shock, it is quite popular! With others! I also have a 3rd blog for the imaginary backing band "The Tombstones" as a side project I am calling the Dark Throw. I have no idea how that one will end up. Probably darker.

Blogging and tweeting is a joy to me.


2. Is there anything you would change about yourself and why?
Genuinely wish I would suit hats. All hats. I love a hat. I have lots of them. But I don't have much of a head for hats. It is an awful Greek tragedy of a thing. It doesn't stop me wearing them, but I am never confident that I look like a man in a hat. The hat is sort of wearing a man. Thankfully the good Lord blessed me with a cool hairstyle.


3. What's your favourite book?
I enjoy reading Kurt Vonnegut. I began reading him on a recommendation by my English teacher, and ever since have always felt a better human when reading his words than reading any other author.

Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut is my favourite because I was blown away by the inventiveness, even by Kurt's standards. It is the only book I slowed down reading because I didn't want it to end. Wonderful.


4. Do you have any pets?
No pets. But I would like a pug or if some mad scientist could invent a mini-sloth I'd have that in a flash and never tire of putting it onto potted plants.


5. Do you have a pet hate?
Inconsiderateness. Just be considerate on public transport, to the shop assistant, to others, to things which went before... There is no excuse to be inconsiderate. I believe being knowingly inconsiderate is a one way ticket to Hell.  


6. Who inspires you?
People I interact with. All and any of them. In their own ways they inspire me to be more: improve, aspire and increase emotional intelligence. Was that answer too gushing? It was too gushing wasn't it. Soz.


7. What's the best piece of advice you've ever been given?
"Women are a distraction" 


8. What would you do if you won the lottery?
I would live a very satisfying altgoth life, with a herd of free range pugs on the lawn and a very expensive genetically modified mini-sloth up a tree on the lawn and me in my gothic castle looking out onto my lawn.


9. What's your next ambition?
To create the next and 2nd greatest altgoth album of all time. #thereisnosecondalbum


10. What's your favourite flavour of ice cream?
Mint choc-chip. I was in Rome and found a little corner Ice-cream parlour where the cool kids were hanging about, leaning on their Vespas eating ice-cream which the vendor slabbed slices of onto the cones with an ice-cream trowel. Getting 3 trowels worth of mint choc-chip ice-cream from a gelato vendor in back street in Rome was almost a religious experience.


11. Are you happy right now?
At this very moment, I am happy.



Thanks for the questions, Pearl!
Now I guess I need to start thinking about my questions and nominations... this could take a little while.

If my blog had a theme tune...

... it'd be this.

Happy smiley Greville face!



Adventure Time Theme!

Thanks so much for your support of me doing these irregular posts onto my blog!

My BBC3 sitcom

[I wrote this on the 4th April 2014]


It must have been the combination of some lovely unexpected positive feedback for my previous blog post about watching the documentary, Strippers, and my lasting shock of BBC3 - my main source of TV ire on this blog - being scrapped which did it.

And by "it", I mean of course being inspired to come up with a pitch and short pilot script for a sitcom on the bus.

Not a sitcom on the bus - but I was on the bus this morning when I came up with the sitcom to blog.

Developing the characters, situation and some dialogue between 12 bus stops in the morning is the perfect preparation for getting your sitcom commissioned by BBC3. So how painfully ironic it is that this won't happen to my rubbish sitcom.

It is not a sitcom about rubbish - it is a rubbish sitcom.

Anyway, like all BBC3 sitcoms it requires to be cheaply set, casted sexily, poorly acted and the dialogue must be near the to the bone, the "humour" crude, but not sweary. Not ever sweary. You can use medically approved terminology for body parts, or completely inoffensive euphemisms but not actual terms you would hear in any playground.

So be warned here - this is a BBC3 styled "kidult" sitcom.

Also, BBC3 sitcoms need neither a beating heart or make a life lesson. They are totally without merit of study.

Because the jokes are so laboured and, well, unfunny, you also need a good laughter track. I would have liked the best laughter track. But the BBC used it for The Wright Way and during the filming of those 6 episodes, it would go home and drink hard. Later it developed a morose it couldn't shake and when it accidentally found The Wright Way on i-player, it took a gun and shot itself in the throat.

Terribly sad.

Anyway, here is my pitch for a BBC3 sitcom.

LAPLAND!

Lapland is the name of a Christmas themed strip club.

The cast are:
Sidney Butterscotch, the club manager always struggling to control the girls, and find a decent DJ
Walter Cichy, the loyal but dim bouncer
Dee-Dee Jones, a voluptuous, blonde, Welsh stripper who is ditzy
Brandi Velour, stripper in her 50s, cynical about her long stripping career and slightly unhinged
Mujm Taylor, a level headed stripper. The "J" is silent
Sinamon, a dominatrix and ex-lawyer
Dave Taylor, Mujm's jealous husband

Note: At least one of the strippers has to be ex-Holyoaks.

There will also be male club patrons, but these will feature differently in each episode.

And here is the script for
LAPLAND!

First the theme tune. As with all BBC3 sitcoms it needs to be marginally about the sitcom and also something that the demographic supposed to see it will either think is retro-cool or written especially for the show, which it isn't.





SCENE ONE

In the small changing area of Lapland, the girls are getting ready for the evening, putting on sexy Christmas elf outfits and attaching baubles and tinsel and so on... Brandi Velour is hooking Christmas candy canes onto her nipples

[Sidney]: OK, girls, I've got a DJ for tonight. He only plays oldskool jungle music, but I booked him for a great price. Jungle music Tuesdays from now on!
[Mujm]: Great. Tonight is going to be another disaster!
[Brandi]: You girls don't know how lucky you are to be in the industry in this day and age.
[Dee-Dee]: What was it like in the olden days, Brandi Velour?
[Brandi Velour]: It was my second tour of booty. '75. I'd already seen to much for a girl for 2 lifetimes, but there I was working down river again. I was based in a small place called, Legs-o-las. Back then there were some guys who would be into pretty serious role playing games. Dungeons and Dragons - Tunnels and Trolls. Legs-o-las was a niche club for these Tolkien lover geeks. Back in the 70's men had different tastes to women's cultivation - more Rosemary and Thyme and less Monty Don, if you know what I mean. So being sexy stripper hobbits was no problem because we didn't shave our feet back then like we do now.

Girls all look at each other

[Brandi Velour]: Back then at Legs-o-las, my stage name was Bilbo Boobins: The Lord of the Nipple Rings.

Girls all look at each other

[Brandi Velour, eyes focussing into the middle distance]: Charlie was everywhere you looked. Like a fog or a choking mist on a field of your innocence. I inhaled more Charlie in the 70s than Keith Richards armed with a Henry Hoover. It was hot. Real hot. And there was heat raining down on you. You'd see these geeks, their eyes watching you - from just above where they were dug in, hunkered down, in the bush.

Girls all look at each other

SCENE TWO

5 men arrive at the club entrance. All are nondescript, except Man 2 who seems uncomfortable.

[Man 1]: In we go, boys!
[Man 2, Paul]: I don't know. I mean a work night out is one thing, but this?
[Man 3]: It is bonding, my son! You're the new guy at work so we need to get to know you!
[Man 2]: Couldn't we do it in a pub, watching the match, instead of having an evening where we will know what we look like when awkwardly turned on?
[Man 4]: Nah, no games on tonight!
[Man 5]: Let's get in!
[Walter, in fake European accent]: Velcum Jental mans!


SCENE THREE




[Mujm]: We can't dance to this, Sid!
[Sidney]: You'll just have to! When will I get a decent DJ?!?

At the bar the men  are talking...

[Man 1]: So you can't play with high back four if you're up against pace. The thing is -.
[Man 5]: Sorry, hold that thought, I'm just stepping out to be sexually aroused for 3 minutes.
[Man 2, Paul]: Really? That's acceptable now?

Dee-Dee shakes her body and beckons to Man 5 and they go into a booth.




SCENE FOUR
Man 5 returns to join the men at the bar...
[Man 3]: ... But Blackmore deserves to start more games
[Man 5, sporting an obvious erection]: Nah, he's an out-and-out impact substitute.
[Man 2, Paul, looks at the erection, and then into his pint]: Jeezus.

SCENE FIVE
The men are at the bar...
[Mujm]: Who wants a private dance?
[Man 4]: Why not?
[Mujm]: Come on, my fluffy bunny bear.
[Man 4]: Does that not cost extra?
[Dave, interrupts]: Just a minute - if you're going to get a lap dance off my Mujm, then I'm going be sitting next to you while you get it!
[Man 4]: That's... that's your Mum?
[Mujm]: Dave! No, sorry, I'm his wife - my name is Mujm, with a silent J.

SCENE SIX
Inside the booth Man 4 is sitting between Dave's spread legs. Dave is sitting behind him, with his arms wrapped round him...

[Dave]: Hold my hands
[Man 4]: What?
[Dave]: Hold my hands so I know you're not going to start touching Mujm when she dances for you.
[Man 4, scared and a little upset]: Oh...Kay...



Outside the booth the men at the bar hear shouting from inside and look troubled...
[Man 4]: Oh Mujm! Yes Mujm! Yes Mujm! Mujm, you are so hot!
Dee-Dee and Sinamon are standing looking at the men at the bar...
[Dee-Dee]: This jungle music is not really getting me into a sexy frame of mind, Sinamon.
[Sinamon]: I don't know, it's working alright for me. You! Yes, You! Crawl into that booth. You are going to dance for me tonight. Crawl into the booth lower!
Man 3 crawls past Sinamon and Dee-Dee, his work tie - and obvious erection - trailing on the ground...





SCENE SEVEN
A girl in a sexy reindeer outfit stands at a sign next to a door. The sign reads: Santa's Wife's home!
[Man 1]: Right guys, I am going in! Santa's grotty grotto, here I come!


SCENE EIGHT
The grotto is a labyrinth of  light and shade, a shadowy place. Brandi Velour sits at the back, head down, hands dabbing restlessly at her skull. Red lights, still, silhouette her in black, her Santa beard, tangled like old, curdled candy-floss, sweat dripping from the ends...
[Man 1]: Hel... Hello?
[Brandi Velour]: I've seen horrors...
[Man 1]: What?
[Brandi Velour]: I... I... I cried, I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out; I didn't know what I wanted to do! And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it... I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought, my God... the genius of that! The genius!...You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment! Because it's judgment that defeats us.





SCENE NINE
Man 1 staggers out of Santa's grotto, looking drained, tie loose, jacket in hand... and an erection...
[Man 2, Paul]: Are you OK? What went on in there?
[Man 1]: I...I... she... the deer... the... reindeer... she... hacked the head clean off the reindeer! The blood... the blood! It vomited blood! And then I vomited blood! So much blood, I slipped.


SCENE TEN
Man 2 is standing at the bar trying not to notice all other men have erections pointing at him...
[Dee-Dee]: Hi! I am Dee-Dee. People just call me "double-D" though.
[Man 2, Paul]: Do you get called that because of your very full breasts?
[Dee-Dee]: No, because I have two D in my name!
[Man 2, Paul: Of course.
[Dee-Dee, rubbing up playfully against Man 2]: Do you want a private dance, honey bee?
[Man 2, Paul]: No. Thank you and all. You're lovely. Just this... all this... is not really me. I've a girlfriend at home and...
[Dee-Dee]: I understand. It looks like your friends have had a good time, tonight. You could have one too, but maybe with something a bit more safe, if you know what I mean?
[Man 2, Paul, looking at the other four men miming headers and football antics, all with erections]: Yeah, they have had a good time. Yeah! I do know what you mean. Safe fun! Yeah! I tell you what, I'd enjoy seeing a pole dance. No inappropriate touching when it's a pole dance!
[Dee-Dee]: What a good idea! Give me a second, I'll get it sorted!

SCENE ELEVEN
[Man 2, Paul]: This is not what I had in mind

Man 2, Paul, sits in booth as a leather crotch thrusts in his face.
[Walter]: Hey! I am Polish, yes! I dance good for you?
[Man 2, Paul]: Er... Yes?
[Walter]: £15 - there is no free ticket to top gun show!
Man 2 places 3 £5 notes one after another into Walter's leather pants.



Everybody Waves at the at the Camera, breaking the 4th wall...




FIN.



So that's that then. Not great, but it was thought up on a 20 minute bus journey. And it was meant for a BBC3 audience. I mean if I wanted to think up a sitcom at a ITV2 standard, well, then, that would have been a whole different, better sitcom about a strip club - perhaps on a train journey.

Not a sitcom of a strip club on a train - I mean... ah, forget it!

To be fair, by the time it was my stop to get off this morning I had moved beyond LAPLAND! anyway.

By the short walk to the office, I was now working on a spin-off series for my favourite character, Brandi Velour.

VELOUR SUITS!
Brandi Velour has quit Lapland! and is now making her way in the world as a merchant banker, where making money is still a dirty business.