Today, Welsh TV embarrased itself with the ludicrous claim that Robin of Loxley is (in actual fact) Welsh. According to the TV article, the evidence is that Wales once had as many trees as Sherwood Forest, that the Welsh could use longbows to good effect, and ... err ... that was all the evidence, actually. Oh, and maybe Loxley is a corruption of Aberbeeg. Not.
This flimsy whimsy was judged worth of five minutes of principality airtime. What next? Attila the Hun came from Swansea? Columbus launched his expedition from Trecco Bay? I can only thank God that Welsh TV coverage is so feeble that no Englisher viewers will have been tuned in, wetting their pants in hilarity.
Why do we feel so insecure about our integral importance to the global community that we have to keep stealing other cultures' icons? We do it all the time. The Welsh Posh and Becks is one example when the couple in question was a love-struck giggly teen and a half-decent rugger player. Nothing like the 'real' article, at all.
In The Mythmakers, my first novel, I took this idea to the extreme by making the nonsensical claim that a local Welsh band was the 'Welsh Manic Street Preachers'.
How long before desperate media chiefs try hoisting that on us, eh?
My publisher, Adventure Books of Seattle, has launched an interesting project that will recount 1,000 personal experiences of Global Warming. If you have an experience or a memory that shows how weather patterns / wildlife, local or international, have changed then email your name, location, (they can be as specific or as general as you wish) and the memory / observation / views / opinions / anecdote to: absubmissions@comcast.net Put Global Warming in the Subject header.
You can read about Adventure Books and their selection of novels here
The Slagg Brothers - Welsh writers of surreal comedy and my occasional co-writers - have emailed me. They've struggled to find a Welsh producer for their work but now have a London independent touting a script to the major terrestrial broadcasters.
Time will tell. The Slaggies are well aware of how difficult it is to break into the business. I will update as, and when, news occurs but we may be in the situation where a Welsh comedy is 'exported' to Wales.
One of my favourite words: Irony. Because I live it every single day.
You can sneak a preview of the script here: Purgatory
The Slagg Brothers main page is at: Slagg Brothers Be prepared for post-watershed humour.
The delightful Tom Jones. Ambassador for Wales or Celebrity Bar Steward?
Why did the media and the public go wild over Tom's concert in Ponty park last year? It made the Principality's headlines and enthusiatically jabbering interviewees repeated statements like: "Tom hasn't forgotten his roots" and "He's giving something back to Wales."
Hello? Tom has been living in Las Vegas longer than he's been in Wales. And did he throw a free concert to say thanks to us for the support through the early years? Nope. He charged the public for entry and - in a double whammy - charged the media for the coverage.
We were sold another tidbit fable from the heady heights of Celebrity Mount Olympus. Far from the public perception of Tom giving something back to us, the fact was that he came here and took a shedload of our money back to Las Vegas with him. Next time bring the Highwayman's mask with you, Tom. Whatever you do, don't get me started on Max Boyce or Anthony Hopkins.
Celebrities - the strongest argument in the debate for the return of hanging. Yes or No?
Many people say they have a book in them and promise they'll write it 'one weekend' but paradoxically the writing part of the process is both the easiest and the hardest part. Why do I say that?
It's the hardest part because writing, while fun, demands your whole attention. It demands rewrites, edits, and more rewrites. It means labouring over each line and paragraph, assessing whether the right word / tone / mood is used.
But when you finish the book, you realise it was actually the easiest part of the process because you now have to pitch it at agents and publishers. You have to read rejection slip after facsimilied rejection slip. You have to submit to another rewrite of your precious 'baby' only to have more rejection. You have to dodge vanity press and all the scams that are waiting to ensnare you.
Finally, you get an acceptance. But does it end there? No. It goes to the publisher's editor, who rips it apart and suggests a rewrite. You do the rewrite, read the proofs, edit the proofs, ad infinitum, until finally the book is approved on all sides and the manuscript is sent to the printer.
I'm still proofing the edited version, so I have a little more to go. But the book I loved, has been read and re-read so many times (50 times at least), I can honestly say it makes me physically sick to pick it up. Writing can be a pleasurable hobby but if you're really serious it should be a heartless Dominatrix, cracking its whip, and forcing you to crawl on your knees for your 'art.'
God, I love writing.
Here's a link to Big Bang, my first to-be published novel.
My great mates and occasional writing partners, The Slagg Brothers, have just released 3 new video sketches for the BBC's Time Trumpet competition. You can visit their website here. Don't be off-put by their appearance. Apparently they dress like that to dissuade stalkers. You can vote for them on the BBC Comedy Soup website, here. SlagB turns in a fine performance and SlagA's video direction is pretty nifty for a colour blind French man with terminal halitosis.
I hope to bring you news on the lows and lows of their struggle to break into the tightly-knit (dare i say, incestuous?) world of scriptwriting, from a Welsh angle.
My gripe with Welsh TV is the continual search for a quick-fix culture. How often have we heard that Church and Henson are the Welsh Posh and Becks? That Catherine Zeta Jones comes from Swansea?
Church and Henson should be their own creation not hoisted on us as a pale imitation of someone else's cultural icons. We diss England and America then imitate them when we should be creating our own cultural identity. As soon as our stars are big enough and wealthy enough, they generally (with a few notable exceptions) sod off abroad. Stars that 'came from ... (add your own discarded town here)' have shown us in their actions what they think of their roots. Yes?
The paradox is that in the current resurgence of Welsh independence and autonomy, we strive to copy than be confident of our own worth and contribution to the world community.
Is this an example of short-cut lazy TV journalism? Or are we, as consumers, to blame?
Here's a link to my first novel, which dealt with the idea of culture and celebrity in contemporary Wales.
As an Asperger 'sufferer', I'm often accused of living on another planet. My responses in social situations are not what people expect. I am too loud, too quiet, I miss implied emotional content in what's said to me. I take people literally. I am fascinated by detail and angles, for example, I love World War 2 tank designs. Certain background sounds and speech (especially the sibillant 'S') cause me to flinch. I have to mute the Sainsbury ads on TV because I can't bear whispered voices. What's the deal with all the whispered ads these days, eh? I'll give them Auto Emocion.
But despite these symptoms, I don't consider myself a sufferer of Autism. It's a gift. And I hope through this blog I'll be able to share with you the joys and frustrations of being a freak / nerd / geek / Mad Professor (all names I attract) in Wales.
Here's a link to the Asperger Syndrome page on the National Autism site.
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An unusual take on Wales
"hay!! good project :) senks :)..."
"Let me hear your balalaika's ringing ou. Josue Hel..."
"It's both, underpinned by the deep-rooted phobia i..."
"Can some people deal with alcohol and other drugs ..."
"Is Max Boyce still alive? Or (perhaps) more petin..."