Hey, God! It’s me, Greville. God? Pick up! I know you’re in!

So here it is! Finally! In a pause from my 99th longer than AntAndDec saying the phrase: "And the winner of X-Factor, 2004, is..... ..... Steve Brookstein!" I have finally gotten round to publishing this, my 100th blog.

One, Zero, Zero, Baby!

I find that many of these momentous occasions are marred with self sycophancy, indulgence and an altogether misplaced importance of the stock and significance of the blog. Often there are attempts to shoe-horn in knowing inside jokes for the fanboys and cameos from past characters.

Half the battle in trying to avoid these cliches is recognising them in the first place.

So instead of all that let me simply say many, many thanks for reading. I know a few of you have been with the blog from the start. You've been through the good times of William Shatner singing clips, the not so good times of some blogs that must have been a trial to get through just to read given how hateful of myself I felt in writing them for you - and of course the TV reviews. And now look at us! Older, on Twitter, one of us recording a hit album with their band "The Tombstones". Exciting times are ahead moving into the 2nd century of the Lore!

Now, since I am here, I may as well write something. To God.


Hey God, 'tis Greville here.
HI GREVILLE - HOW'S IT HANGIN'?
Not, bad, my man.
SO, WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?
I just wanted to give you some advice. It's time to do something big, you know, it's been a while.
I WAS THINKING ABOUT DOING SOMETHING. IT SEEMS THAT IT MIGHT BE TIME FOR THE SECOND COMING. MANKIND HAS TWITTER AT ITS FINGERTIPS, IT SHOULD BE EASIER FOR ONE MESSIAH AND 12 FOLLOWERS TO START SPREADING THE WORD.
That would be all well and good as an ineffable plan - if we were in 2006! God, you've missed the boat on Twitter. For a start 12 followers is rubbish. I mean, Jeezus, I've got 30! To be honest, Justin Bieber has Twitter sewn up anyway. Giving hollow, saccharine parables in 140 characters or less as equally as he does self-promote his highly produced music, Justin is as close to a Holy Spirit to his younglings as you can get. He even has you beat for the name of his followers: Beliebers. I mean that's astonishingly clever. Disciples? What's that? That ain't a killer pun on your name. I think that modern technology and trying to connect mankind to your message through it, is not cool. You have not moved with the times and it sort of shows whenever a Christian band uploads their budget free video on YouTube - it is pretty uncomfortable. You should avoid it all costs.
I AM COOL. I REMAIN HIP TO THE BEATS OF MY PEOPLE. YOU LOOK DOUBTFUL. WATCH THIS: YO! KURT! HOW'S IT GOING? TIRED FROM ALL THE SPINNING YOUR DOING ABOUT WHAT COURTNEY IS DOING TO YOUR LEGACY? SMILEY WINKY FACE. SEE?
Ok, not only was that in a little bad taste, I mean Kurt is a pretty cool guy to get up here... but no one actually says “Smiley Winky Face”. It’s an emoticon, you know, for implying the emotion of the sender of an electronic message.
OH. ESS SHAPED MOUTHY FACE.
So here is what I am thinking - write some new Commandments.
WHAT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE ONES I DID?
Nothing, really, God. The ones you did back there in the olden times were good. Fine for the purpose. But just as Microsoft updates its Internet Explorer, even though the old one did a reasonable job, you need to move those Commandments on. People expect that thing now.
DO YOU HAVE AN EXAMPLE?
Thou shalt not covet your neighbour's wife? God, let me tell you, that happens all the time these days. Coveting is fine. As long as you don't touch. That should be the revised Commandment right there. And a lot of the others, frankly, are a bit self-serving of you, if you don't mind me saying? A bit "attention seeking".
I'M GOD!
Exactly. Now - Twitter, ironically, could have been ideal for handing down the new Commandments - but there are already about 43 "God's" signed up already doing that, so you need to go old skool but bigger. You know what you should do? You should totally burn them commandments into the moon. Imagine that!? Writing on the f***ing moon!
OK, GREVILLE, I'LL MAKE A START *cough*
You're not... erm... doing anything? You're just leaning back on your chair a bit more. Are you going to do them? I mean, this is sort of in your job description.
I AM THINKING ABOUT THEMES. IT'S HARD YOU KNOW. YOU CAN'T JUST COME UP WITH - WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?
That - behind you - what is it?
NOTHING, THERE IS NOTHING THERE. DON'T EVEN WASTE YOUR...
It is something - look it is behind your desk. Half hidden under that small fluffy cloud. Let me just blow that cloud away, that's odd the cloud's been tethered down on top of it with rope... I'll just untie... there we go!
OH THAT? I'VE NEVER... I'VE NEVER SEEN THAT BEFORE.
You've never seen it before? But your omnipotent!
I AM NOT! IT'S ALL WORKING TREMENDOUSLY, LET ME TELL YOU THAT. SURE, SOMETIMES WHEN I GET STRESSED...
No! I mean you know everything!
AH, SORRY I THOUGHT YOU SAID... THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT NOW.
So what is it? Why is it at the back of your office, behind your coat stand?
IT WAS HERE WHEN I GOT HERE.
What?!? I'm not... Ok, I am going to set it upright. It's like a robot.... Ah, it's got a plug...
DON'T PLUG IT...
Ho ho! Wow! Look at it go! It's magnetic tape whirling away. Oh! A card has just printed out it's feeder!
IGNORE IT!
Hey - its having a go at doing some rules. Hee, hee! It thinks it's You! I tell you what it's not bad at it you know. It's printing more. This is pretty cool, and it's really quick! I bet it's overheads are negligible.
Listen to these:

1. Be courteous to each other

2. Do not take what is not yours to take

3. Look after your health

4. Accept difference. You are all squishy wonderments in the eyes of the Universe

5. When there is opportunity for compassion, take it

6. Strive for knowledge, seek and embrace joy

7. Contribute to the world in all the ways you can

8. You can look, even imagine a little, but never touch your neighbour's wife

9. Do not buy MAC. God is a PC

10. Worship and adorn always LOBOS!

Ok - back to normal with 101 guys, promise!

If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you son, I got 99 blogs...

I found myself in a James Cameron movie the other day. I didn't mean to be there. I was looking for BBC i-player on my PlayStation.

uk.playstation.com

I registered onto the PlayStation Network and the next thing I knew I was presented with a menu to select my avatar for PlayStation Home. PlayStation Home is a free roaming virtual cityscape where PlayStation Network users can go, explore, play games and interact with others they find there through their own avatars. I am sure it is Utopia built exactly to the specifications of an American geek.

I registered, the first menu bar informed me, luckily in the hour I could choose a sponsored theme avatar. I could either enter this ethereal quasi-world as a human person or in the guise of a giant spray can of Lynx Deodorant with legs. I chose the humanoid because, ironically, I didn't want to repel anyone.

Selecting gender, hair type and eyeball length was simple enough. Then up popped a menu for my avatar's attire options.

I spent longer scrolling through my avatar's wardrobe of clothing than I do when I am getting dressed to go out. Into the REAL world. Where REAL people judge me.

I actually pondered if I, through the embodiment of my avatar, could pull off sneakers with combats. In REAL life I select the necessary items of clothes so I don't get funny looks/arrested that happen to be nearest the door. Now I was scrolling between a grey jumper and a green polo shirt 5 times like a mild form of OCD.

Once I settled on an outfit, I confirmed my choices and was transported into Home. I was on a plaza precinct at a shoreline.

Home is, in fact, the best single example of what would definitely happen if the real world adhered to the physics of cartoons and combined with the moral values of Twitter.

Yes, PlayStation Home is a godforsaken place.

Basically, if everyone in the real world, outside the TV screen, was s(h)macked clean off their nips all day, like the addled bloke I saw a few hours ago who periodically jabbed an accusingly pointed finger at the postcard carousel display outside a corner shop while simultaneously spinning it round with his other hand at breakneck speed, conveniently ignoring his senses informing him of everything else around him, such as the tourist wondering if he could be swift enough to pick out a postcard [Which incidentally leads me on to: why do hard drug addicts insist on wearing grubby sports fashion? They are fooling only themselves with that] then there would be no difference between this and PlayStation Home.

If you don't believe me, there is plenty of footage on YouTube to back this description up. Look at this video [from around 2:30 you begin to get the idea] :



No one is having fun when you instruct your avatar to dance. Trust me.

My avatar - clean-cut, colour and textile super co-ordinated - and I both looked around feeling like the guy taken on a Star-Trek away mission wearing the red top who the main cast keep getting his name wrong until they eventually settle on “buddy”.

We stood motionless as tens of other avatars mainly walked into street furniture, their bamboozling avatar names floating above their heads, or stood like mine, in uncertain wonder at the polygon crowd chaos, our bamboozling avatar names floating above our heads.

I began to take my avatar about the streets. BBC i-Player had to be around somewhere.

I wandered until I got to the Fair Ground Zone or whatever it's meant to be. It was not as well populated which was a relief, but generally avatars seemed more intent on avoiding contact more than anything. I suppose we all had our reasons.  Possibly the strong suspicion that everyone was not who they might seem.

That avatar shaped and coloured in as a hot nurse? Definitely a 45 year old man who lives in his parent's basement between night shifts at the old meat compressor factory. That innocently apparelled man other than the out of place cowboy hat? FBI Agent. The huge dude with the afro throwing gang signs by himself? 12 year old from Dorset.

As For me? I just wanted to watch this weeks' episode of the Apprentice on my PlayStation.

Home is a world populated wholly by lunatics and people who just want to find the way out. I think that sums it up.

I took my avatar to a bench and gave him a seat. There was no legitimate reason for this. He doesn't get weary and I was already sitting down. Two avatars in the middle of the street, one dressed as a panda angel [I kid not] and one looking like a reject from a boy band were grinding hard at each other as close as the spacial impact coding would allow, in my vision. It was both deeply depressing and disgusting. I got my avatar up and moving into the fun park.

And as God is my witness I had a go on the Ferris Wheel. Jeezus.

Of course I didn't actually go on a Ferris Wheel. I pressed X and my avatar stepped on and sat down in one of the booths. Then my avatar and I went round on it for 6 or 7 minutes. That was 6 or 7 minutes of my actual REAL life spent, I guess supposed to be enjoying the experience of sitting watching a representation of me enjoy a ride on a Ferris wheel that I had made it get on because I didn't want to watch... whatever... that was with the panda thing back there.

And I felt like I had formed a bond with my avatar. I didn't want our relationship to be sullied by him thinking I enjoyed watching that kind of futile act of perversity now animating some 60 feet below us.

If Oscar Wilde had his writing career over again today, he would undoubtedly write the modern schlock novel, The PlayStation Avatar of Dorian Gray.

Dorian would be out in the world, dancing at people, dancing by himself, giving meaningless gestures in crowds, hanging about arcades, making sexualised approaches to anything with legs and wonderng if he has the ability to jump over this bench that he just can't seem to walk round, while his avatar grows unhappy, scarred, old... his blue T-shirt with white under shirt becoming splattered with photo-realistic blood customisations of real life murders of those who learn of Dorian's secret.

After the 4th revolution, and my avatar doing a spectacularly creepy impression of a horror character dawning on me: it being the only "person" riding round and round on a slightly rusty, creaking and dated Ferris Wheel, I decided that none of this going on was worth The Apprentice.

I took my avatar to his minimalist apartment overlooking the sun kissed marina.

Every avatar gets an apartment in Home. You can "invite" other avatars over to it. Why, I genuinely haven't a clue. You can store more options and accessories in a chest of drawers there, I think. By far the best feature of the apartment, as I could make out, is you can sit on your IKEA styled sofa and contemplate how you ended up here, without interruption.

In your apartment, you can arrange your furnishings how you like. But, being a virtual world, you are not presented with a floor plan schematic and able to point and click to where you want the chair, no, Home provides you with the full immersing joy of having to grab and drag the chair across the floor in real time. Thereby wasting my REAL time.

Once I dragged my chair about for a bit [is this one of their online Home games that Sony rave about?] I could take no more. It was time to end it here.

I walked my avatar to his veranda and got him positioned to gaze out over the coded clear sea, listening to the Wav. File of clinking boat moorings.

And as I left him there to wonder how he came to be placed in this strange place and if his next leap would be his leap home, I swear I heard Simon & Garfunkle's Sound of Silence play, tinged with foreboding, in my head.

Honestly, they should make prisoners play it in their cells

An exclusive for the fans of Greville and the Tombstones

For some reason there has been increasing rumours that I have a band. I don't. I have no idea where this talk has come from.

Anyway, further to the big announcement during the hour of noon today on my Twitter feed, revealing the name of my band's next album, I thought I would make this day a real treat for our fans, the Revelairs.

So, just for you guys, are the lyrics to a new song.
I am not sure that this is the summer feel good hit I had been aiming for, but it will be our summer single.

I call it - No One Hates Me More Than Me

Sometimes it’s comforting to know,

That no one hates me more than me.

You may see the things I do,

You may know the man I am

But you can’t despise me in all the ways I can

Yes, sometimes it’s comforting to know,

That no one hates me more than me.

When you’re in the doorway,

The flicker of flint lights up a smile,

I live with me forever, but you only stay for a while

Yes, sometimes it’s comforting to know,

That no one hates me more than me.

Disgust, betrayal – I let you down,

I see it’s all played out in your eye,

But mine sheds a bucketful for every tear you cry

Yes, sometimes it’s comforting to know,

That no one hates me more than me.

If I could start again, no regrets to carry,

If I could start again, all new,

We could both be happy, but I would sure miss you.

Sometimes it’s comforting to know,

That no one hates me more than me.

And now for a special added bonus! Here is the very first look at the LP front cover art for the Album: It took the body parts of 7 men to make him, but only 1 woman to break his heart, made from 3 men’s hearts.

I know, right? Considering there is no band, or record - Wow.

A social quandary

Hi guys, if you have been following my tweets you probably already know that I very much enjoy the TV show New Girl (C4 and C4+1... and 4OD). I may very well blog in detail the reasons why at some stage soon. However, suffice to say for now that if New Girl was a beverage then it would be hot chocolate in a Christmas mug and Zooey Deschanel is a legged, winsome mermaid whose cookie words are a psiren call to me.

Tomorrow evening I am diaried to go out for a fancy meal with my work bosses. A real posh affair. I wouldn't at all be surprised if the waiters take your coat when seating you, that sort of style. But the meal starts with canapes at 7. It means the meal is in direct conflict with New Girl. Whereas I much more need it in alignment.

So, you see my problem, clear as the many blue eyes on Zooey.

How should I excuse myself?

I am thinking either:

A: Be honest from the start.
Chances are your bosses will all be New Girl fans and understand. Someone might even give you a lift home.

B: Be really honest.
Chances are you will have eaten at least half your main by the time you need to go. Simply explain that you feel the conversation has now ceased to be of interest around the table and you will miss more of life through missing New Girl than staying here a minute more. Thank your bosses for what was, until this point, a charming evening and leave without looking back at them.

C: Be deceitful.
Set your phone alarm to ring in good time to catch New Girl on the TV. Act as if a phone call is happening. On “answering” the “call” look concerned and say: “I understand, Commissioner” at least 4 times. Explain to your bosses that there has been a breakout at the local prison for the criminally insane and you need to contact your friend,  Super New Girl Man to alert him and go with him in order to document him saving the city. As you rise from your seat, begin to loosen your tie. Look stern and steely eyed. Do horse like gallop-jumps out the restaurant.

D: All of the above.

If any of my Revelairs Society or Twitter followers want to vote or give me advice, feel free.

Follow my tweets tomorrow night to see what I decided!

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Post meal round-up for those who missed the exciting live Twitter happening!
Well, I did consider option B...
Especially at the point of the conversation where one of my bosses spoke to me: "I took the boat out round the coast on Saturday. Did a bit fishing off the stern, that sort of thing, you know. What did you do on Saturday?" To which I replied: "I watched Gillette Soccer Saturday. It's basically a scrolling computer graphic on TV that tells you the football scores... erm, well..."

But the evening turned out to be very enjoyable and I ended up breaking the glass on Option E: To stay until the end of the meal and ensure that you tune into T4 and watch New Girl then. It is only for one week. You can put up with T4 for one week.

And I did watch it on T4 - And I did it for you, Zooey.