BOGOF Talent

News reaches us that one of Britain’s biggest stars has signed a lucrative deal with an emerging player in the burgeoning world of online bingo. But who could it possibly be? Dale Winton? Philip Schofield? No my friends, someone much more esteemed and worthy of note – none other than DJ Talent.

If you’re anything like me, the first thought to enter your head may well be, ‘Who?’ The answer to that question lies beyond these words but be warned – once you’ve gone there, things may never quite be the same again.

Born Anthony Ghosh in 1978, the artist now known as DJ Talent first came to the attention of the public in 2006 for the unenviable quality of being mugged a lot. That’s true – I haven’t made it up. It’s on Wikipedia, ergo it must be true. He later appeared on a television programme called Britain’s Got Talent, which is presumably the arena with which the people behind BOGOF Bingo are hoping his name will associate them.

His appearance apparently drew quite a lot of press coverage at the time, consisting as it did of him repeating the same phrase over and over and being buzzed out by Simon Cowell on the programme – a sure route to success in this country if ever there was one. Famed for his love of the atomic number 79, and its associated chemical element (that’ll be gold then), his early career as Mugging Victim is best explained with the use of a picture:
His Argos loyalty card statement must make for impressive reading.

Anyway, as we mentioned his current employers are more concerned with the recent furore surrounding his appearance on a popular television show and the resulting catch phrase that injected itself into the conscious of a number people with nothing else to do on a Saturday night. Something along the lines of ‘I say Britain, You say talent. Britain's got talent! It's the DJ Talent!’ Marshall Mathers III must be quaking in his size nines.

One presumes his status with BOGOF Bingo will be initiated with a similar catchphrase that encapsulates his unique act while delivering the BOGOF message. Still, it’s got to be better than simply being known for getting mugged a lot.

Eyes Right

Those of you who frequent the Oxford Road area will no doubt have noticed the road works that have been going on there for some time. An inconvenience to many, no doubt, especially with the major changes on the tram lines in the rest of town, but little did we expect the works would actively seek to outwit and harm us. It seems someone forgot to repaint the normally useful signs that sit on the road, telling you which way to look before you cross. After temporarily being changed to warn of approaching menace from the left, no one thought to change the instruction back once the road was reverted to its normal state and vehicles – large ones at that – returned to approaching from the right.

The workmen blame the council. The council blame the workmen, naturally. I’m pretty sure no one really cares whose fault it as long as they fix it quick. Having said that, there must be relatively few of us who rely solely on these little comments on the tarmac to keep us in the land of safety and protect us from the lethal motorists of Manchester. I know I look both ways even on a one way street.

Click

Discussion is rife in the office as to whether this is actually a good advertisement or not. I say yes. Someone else says no, because ultimately it doesn't take you anywhere. WHLN - discussing the big issues of the day.

I'm sticking by it anyway - it is good becuase it's funny and...actually, that's my only criteria. I'd like to know if anyone doesn't keep clicking. Go on, you know you want to...

Plasmas for Goalposts

It doesn’t need me to say that the lives of professional footballers are somewhat abnormal ones. So it should be of no great surprise to learn that along with contracts of tens of thousands of pounds per week, and the trappings that are inevitably indulged in as a result of that, other extras are also often included in their job offers. Like the odd house to live in, for example. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?

One such house has been used by Manchester united for a number of years, nestled in the Cheshire countryside and sitting in a price bracket most of us would consider as a pretty decent lottery win. Man Utd and that house have parted company now and it is being sold by its owner, one Mr Morris, who is of sharp enough mind to sugar the sale up by revealing the fact that the house was once occupied by Ronaldo. That’ll be the dearly departed Ronaldo, who is now sunning himself in Spain, living his boyhood dream.

OK, so far so expected, but it’s when you get into the details of the house, so gleefully regaled by its owner, that we really get into the psyche of that strange creature that is the professional football player. “A shattered window from a kicked football still exists,” he claims, which says similar things about Ronaldo’s garden football skills as it does his own as a landlord. “Dart holes dent the back of the office door from Ronaldo playing darts,” is the next ‘selling point’, while the strangest is kept for last – “Broken parts from TVs are sprinkled around the cherry blossom tree from where Ronaldo would shoot footballs at TVs for target practice.”

Brilliant – not content with used tyres or even those fake men they have at the training grounds, the big R had to use plasmas for target practice, just to rub it in to us mortals just how bloody rich he really is. And in the cherry blossom as well! Isn’t that an endangered species or something? Still, quite how much these choice facts will bump up the price of this place remains to be seen. It’s on at around the £1.5 million mark. Sounds like it needs a bit of work on it to me.

Cocktails on Wheels

Ever heard the twinkling of an ice cream van and thought to yourself, ‘If only there was something a bit stronger than a cider lolly’? If some are to be believed, stronger things are available from ice cream vans in certain areas, but let’s not get into that now – what I’m on about it the latest idea from chief drinks maker at Northern Quarter bar Apotheca, Carl Peters. He’s bought an old ice cream van and turned it into a mobile bar, serving up cocktails and drinks at parties and events. Have a look:

It’s even kept its original jingle, although improper use could see a barrage of soon to be disappointed children charging forth with 99 flakes in mind. At least their parents would be happy. Available for hire, The Cocktail Van offers a drinks service for all types of parties and events with a ‘professional mixologist’ Carl at the helm.

Our verdict: Mobile booze is definitely a good thing.

Thriller

With little of note happening in Manchester beyond the end of the heat wave and the Manchester International Festival, which we dealt with on the main site, I’ve little choice but to revert to commenting on happenings of a more widespread nature.

Big news last week was of course the annual expectation and resulting disappointment that is Wimbeldon, Andy Murray valiantly fighting his way to the semi-finals but being beaten by another Andy, Andy Roddick, an American with a decent serve and seemingly something to prove. The days of Tim Henman struggling to get the ball over the net for any longer than the fourth round are far behind us but certain crowd members seemed determined to keep Tim’s legacy alive, shouts during many matches this year along the lines of the once ubiquitous, limply uttered, ‘Come on Tim’ or, a more recent addition to the courtside mirth, ‘Come on Rafa’, a reference to Rafael Nadal. Non-tennis followers should note that neither Tim nor Rafa were playing in the tournament this year, Rafa being injured and Tim happily retired – irony is, apparently, alive and well in the seats at SW19, if not always appreciated. ‘Idiots’ is one word I heard John McEnroe use at one point.

One would have to be living in the tower of the Manchester Museum, or similarly incarcerated, to not have heard of the news of the untimely death of The King of Pop, Michael Jackson last week (although, to be fair, even the Manchester Hermit probably knows about it). Naturally, as in life, stories, rumours and conspiracy theories abound on everything concerning MJ’s passing. Was he killed by his doctor? Has he been dead for months, the figure who launched the O2 gigs a look alike and only now have the concert organisers realised it’ll be too hard to pull off? How much was his estate worth? Who’s getting the kids? What’s happened to Bubbles?

That last question is one that has been answered by an enterprising journalist who posed the question: Will Bubbles be going to the funeral? Apparently not – too large and potentially violent is the verdict. A tortured soul, the victim of his enforced lifestyle, abused by those to whom he should have been able to turn for guidance and support, some might argue. And the monkey’s had a rough time of it too.

The furore continues into this week with the bizarre circumstances surrounding a ballot to allocate 11,000 tickets to his official memorial, with over one million people applying from all over the world, many apparently oblivious to the potential logistical problems of getting to LA with 24 hours notice. Inevitably, lots of tickets have ended up on eBay prompting the again inevitable cries of immorality. Basically, it’s all gone Jacko mad and you can’t help thinking that’s exactly how he would have wanted it.