On Why I am Slightly Evil

In about August 2003, I was supping a pint of over priced lager in Headingley's Trio Bar. With me was one of my best friends from University who had just got a job offer from a major company on a graduate scheme. We were celebrating her success.

With us was a guy from London who was a good friend of my friend, but whom I had always ever so slightly disliked due to excessive niceness and slimyness. When this friend of mine went away to the bar, I had a conversation with this guy that went a little like this:

Sam: "Its really good news about [insert name here]'s new job isn't it?'
Guy: "Yeah, its alright - doesnt pay that well through" (bear in mind that her starting salary was £10k above the starting salary that I had)
Sam: "What do you mean - think it is pretty good?"
Guy: "Yeah well, I have been temping for the last year, but I am looking for a Job that starts at over £40k"
Sam: "What the hell kind of job starts at £40k?"
Guy: " I am going to be an investment banker"
Sam's mind (note that I did not actually say this out loud, but it could probably be read on my face) "Who the hell is going to give you a £40k starting salary when all you have done for the last year is work in a call centre and get pissed at the weekend? And in addition to that you only have some kind of second class degree from an easy arts course in a middle of the road university you plonker? And in addition to that you are quite obviously a bit of a kn*b!"
What Sam actually said: "Oh good luck with that."

Anyway, it turns out he did get that investment banking job! And when I asked someone how on earth he managed it, they told me: "His Dad knew someone".

So there it is. In this age of equality, meritocracy, whatever you want to call it - 'my mind' was stupid enough to believe that people who earn big bucks and big bonuses (and with this carry big responsibilities) were the cream of the crop. They graduate with first class honours in banking from fancy universities, and work hard for 60 hours per week.

This really annoyed me. That this guy who was obviously a bit (but not excessively) dim, and incredibly greedy (and a bit of a kn*b), walked straight into this job with a nod from his high flying father. Also I was wrong (I hate it when I am wrong).

Replace the 'B' with a 'W' and you will know how much love I have held for 'Investment Bankers', for the last 5 years - based almost entirely and completely irattionally on my experience with this guy and similar types I have met.

Fast forward 5 years and the economy begins to crumble partially due to the greed, lack of foresight and lack of transparency of the dealings of some of the big London banking firms. Today we hear that Bradford and Bingley are the latest bank to require bailing out. All I hear about on thye news are reports of staff laid off in investment arms of major players worldwide.

I dont profess to know much about the economy. I definately don't wish financial hardhip on these money shufflers and their families (though I wouldnt mind if a few of them had to go out and get 'proper' jobs doing 'tangible' things).

But a little bit of me deep down (alright not very deep down), hopes that that little pillock gets sacked and has to work in Asda...

Jaded Rock Stars

An airport is a little bit like a tardis. It doesn't matter how hectic your life is, commuting, working, trying to get all those other daily tasks (such as maintaining basic hygiene) done in between, the moment you get to an airport - everything slows almost to a halt. You queue. You sit. You contemplate. You think about how much you would like to punch one of those smarmy security guards who single you out for a bag search right in the face.

Leeds Bradford Airport is even more like a tardis because it looks like it hasn't been refurbished since 1960. The foam is coming out of the seats, the carpets are worn away to nothing, and the seem to be the only airport left in the world that still makes you take your belt (even though it only contains approximately 1 gram of metal and doesn't set the detector off) and shoes off.

Still, here I am trying to get to Northern Ireland with my plane 3 hours delayed, andI finally have the time (and the internet access) to write a blog post:

You may remember some time ago, me writing this post about the Fun Lovin Criminals playing at the Picturedrome in the tiny little town in which I was brought up?

Well at the weekend, I went to see another band whose albums (or at least one of their albums)were even more overplayed by me than the FLC. At the weekend, I went to see Ocean Colour Scene. If you are an American, you will probably not know who Ocean Colour Scene are. In fact you will probably even baulk at the spelling of 'colour'. But OCS' retro Mod style album Moseley Shoals came out when I was at the beginning of my musical awareness when I was around 15 years old - and I loved it!

I spent many an hour arguing the merits of Ocean Colour Scene's Moseley Shoals (excellent musicians with excellent voices) over Ash's 1977 (could neither sing nor play) - though I loved them both.

What was most impressive about this Ocean Colour Scene gig was how the lead singer managed 4 pints of lager during the relatively short set.

In fact, judging by the colour of his face (i.e. very red), the tiredness in his face, and the dissinterest shown in the set - he had probably indulged in one or two too many pints of lager over the last 10 years or so. I dont know whether anyone else has had the same experience, but seeing rock stars somewhat past their prime can shatter boyhood illusions.

Still, he managed to pull out some golden oldies and the crowd finished off some of their songs for them. And I enjoyed myself.

Mosely Shoals will always remain in my top 5 albums of all time.

A List

A number of things have happened since I last posted on this blog:

• I have been without the internet
• 27 days have past
• The number of hits on my site have gone from 35 per day to <5
• The number of unread posts in my feed reader have grown to number in their hundreds (with Jerrychicken and Quit Your Day Job fighting to take most posts pole position)
• I have moved from the business and beaches city of Sydney to the derilict industrial units, rolling hills and nightlife of Sheffield
• I have swapped cycling to work in the sunshine for driving vast distances to work in the rain
• I have developed a shed load of debt I need to pay off
• I accepted a position in my old company (and have begun working with the same clients I was working with before I left)

Basically within the space of 1 month, my time in Australia has come to feel like a dream. Something that never quite happened. If it wasn't for the occasional emails I get from old work colleagues and the photographs (and the debt) I would actually wonder if had ever been at all.