Tuesday 11 March 2014


If somebody held a gun to my head and ordered me to get up and sing karaoke, I suppose only then might I consider it. Because as much as I would love to be able to carry a tune – the truth is I can't hold a note for toffee. I don't even sing in the shower.

Instead, I use all bathroom intermissions to reflect and cogitate on issues important to me at the time. in fact I would say that some of my best thinking is done when I’m showering or sat on the loo but all too very often, completely random and curious stuff just pops into my head.  . Just take the following for example, a notion that turned up inside my head just recently.

When  my number comes up, I hope the Grim Reaper doesn't just show up completely unexpectedly and un-announced at an inopportune moment and expect to escort me away agreeably, particularly if I’m not dressed suitably for the occasion  – like when I'm having a shower. Because the idea of suddenly finding myself on the other side bollock-naked but for a shower cap or grasping a sponge loafer and then having to wait in the new arrivals queue , alarms me considerably. At the very least I hope I’m given sufficient time to iron a clean shirt and shine my shoes.

My point is, as much as I’m comfortable wearing jeans and tee shirt, personal appearance is very much a key factor in my life. This has always been my maxim; If you dress badly people will always notice the clothes and make judgement accordingly, but if you dress sharply - people will notice the person inside and this will make an enormous difference.

Consequently, my main concern is that my cropped hair, scars and missing teeth and the '1%' gang tattoo on the side of my neck (that’s another story) will attract the attention of the doormen who no doubt will be stood on either side of the pearly gate.

If I am then detained so that background checks can be carried out, will I then ultimately fail to meet their expected criteria entitling me to access into Heaven with permanent residency and a full set of angel wings, or will I be wrestled to the ground and restrained before being sent back to earth so my soul can be recycled.  Because I’d be furious to find myself being reborn and coming back as say, a moth or possibly as farm stock. Have you ever looked closely at a bunch of cows stood ankle deep in mud and shit in the pouring rain, all looking pissed off and thoroughly depressed and probably all thinking the same damn thing; ‘Is this really as good as it gets?’ Personally I think I’d rather fancy my chances downstairs with Beelzebub.

Having said that, please don't presume for one moment I have a history of violence or criminal activity because this is not the case. If this were so then I wouldn't be able to hold a pub licence or work with young offenders but as a repentant ex-member of an outlaw biker gang, it would be foolish to deny the dozen or so skeletons I have hoarded at the back of my closet.

I can only hope and pray that my voluntary work with young offenders and of course my service to queen and country in operational theatre, will be taken into full consideration before any final decision is made by the big man himself.