The Difficult First Entry
Tuesday December 11, 2007
Yes, I’m just as shocked as you lot are. I don’t know when it happened, or exactly how, but I find myself sitting in front of my computer typing for my blog. Isn’t this the sort of thing that desperate 16 year olds do?
Well, 16 I most certainly am not, or if I am I’ve managed to age rather badly and be completely fobbed off by my parents. Maybe I’ve got the body clock of a dog, or one of those other strange animals that age 7 times faster than regular human time. I’ve never understood that. Do they really age faster than us or are we just cruelly adding on six years to their every year? Maybe that’s why cats just sleep all the time – because they think we’re bastards for making them feel old.
I digress. I think I should get to the real point of my first post, and tell you why I’m bothering with this blog rubbish. Since I rarely do anything after I’ve written all the scripts for Top Gear for the week (International Emmy Award in Non-Scripted Entertainment category), I thought I’d have a go at starting a blog. I mean, it can’t be that hard can it? Millions of half-witted simpletons write blogs every week on the interweb. Mostly talk about their breakfast, or how they’ve had exactly the same meal three days in a row. Exactly the kind of topics you would read about if wanted to be bored to death, but not what you want to read about on your lunch break.
But let me increase the suspense a bit further still: let me first tell you exactly what I won’t be talking about; cars. It’s my day job (as much as you can call wrecking caravans and driving cars stupidly fast a ‘day job’), it’s what I look at on the Internet when I get home and I’ve written enough words about cars to be able to write a bloody bible about them. So I’m going to keep these blog posts just like my columns in those common rags I write for – vague, biting, and purposefully provoking. And I’ll probably poke fun at the French quite a lot.
And if you’ve come here to drop me the odd comment telling me how much I “suck”, or some other annoyingly Americanised derogatory term, don’t bother. I’ve requested that my web guy removed the ability to comment. The only way you can get in contact with me is via the eMail address on the right.
So – I hear you screaming at me in an impatient tantrum – just what exactly will I be talking about? Well, put in its simplest possible terms; anything that annoys me.
Also, I want to get more readers than Stephen Fry.