hidden talents

what happens to all the hidden talents people have if they are kept hidden?

You know when you find out someone you have known for 20 years suddenly announces that they were a virtuoso violinist at the age of 16, with dreams of travelling the world with the Halle Orchestra but somehow ended up working in a post office listening to grey people complain about stamp prices.

 

I sometimes wonder if these hidden talents get resentful at all about the adulation and respect that luckier 'used' talents get? much like an x factor winner who doesn't get Simon cowells full attention and has to resort to singing covers of Boyz 2 Men songs in the local gala bingo hall whilst passers by think he looks a bit familiar "maybe he was alfie moons cousin Doris?"

 

With this in mind I am starting a campaign (some say movement, mind you some say shut up) to unleash your hidden talents, in order to make life more fulfilling, the world a better place and to make sure that talents can live a happy long life, like free range chickens with their own range rovers and banjos.

 

So whether you have a gift for playing the ukulele, juggling choux pastry buns, writing piano sonatas or just simply turning wallpaper into fire I am calling for you all to use your hidden talents! gather on the streets and show the world your gifts! I am looking to see a gathering of the hidden talent army to march on the streets of London and other places like a mobile X-Mens Got Talent show.

 

Alternatively you can stay at home watching Olly Murs grumbling that that should have been me whilst drinking cider while your hidden talent teams up with an ulcer to perform 'don't you want me baby' in your stomach.

 

things i have learnt over the past few days.

peppers don't agree with me  ("yes we do!" says a pepper) 

 

apples give me indigestion 

 

cheese makes my nose itch (after I eat it not just beacuse it exists, cheese that is not my nose. Although now I think about it which did come first the cheese or the nose?) 

 

I have a craving for ginger beer at 7am 

 

Tesco shopping turns me into an evil version of Jason Bourne from the Bourne Films; I call him Jamie Bourne

 

You can tell the age range of a BBQ simply be overhearing the music; if you hear several Phil Collins songs its a safe bet its an over thirties BBQ that will start out sensibley and end up with adults drunkenly jumping on a trampoline whilst singing along to Sweet Caroline.

If its mainly Justin Bieber and The Saturdays you can hear wafting through the airwaves then it will almost definitely be an under 23 BBQ that starts out sensibly, before ending up with grounded children banished to there room whilst adults drunkenly jump on a trampoline and sing along to Sweet Caroline.

 

The older you get the more time you spend swearing at the television.

a really annoying pixie called Gerald

So in order to try and banish the monday morning blues I have tried various methods including:

Going to bed early

Going to bed late

drinking tea

drinking wine

drinking beer

drinking hot chocolate

drinking squash

treating sunday like its the end of the world

treating sunday like its a pretend saturday night, with movies, snacks and stuff

imagining that monday is the start of what could be the best week of my life.

Well it’s best to say none of these worked. Which leads me to the only conclusion I have left; Monday morning is the work of the devil, or at least a really annoying pixie called Gerald with a moustache and a pen in his top pocket.

Gerald’s main duties seems to include positioning a grey cloud of impending doom over your head at approximately 6pm on a sunday evening and switch it to 'rain melancholy' mode for the rest of the day and then ensure that when your alarm does goes off on Monday you feel like you have had around ten minutes sleep. Perhaps if your Gerald is feeling particularly spritely he made even thrown in a ‘'isn’t it Sunday?' feeling just as you wake up to ensure maximum annoyance.

It has occured to me that the funtime weekend elf (the arch nemesis of the sunday pixie) is not taking his duties seriously and seems to be knocking off work around lunchtime on sunday afternoon.

Infact this Saturday even felt like a Sunday so he may have even bunked off work even earlier to spend more time sunbathing leaving Sunday Pixie to cover his shift!

So you may be wondering how to combat these little blighters? Well there isn't much you can do accept do your best to ignore them, they will go away eventually (at least by Tuesday) and like a brat filled with hyperactive sunny delight, if you don't humour him he will eventually dissapear in a sulk and hide in the laundry basket until next week.

Remember that Monday is the start of what could be the best week of your life! (whacks the sunday pixie with a wooden spoon).