When i still had pretensions of being a proper writer...

I wrote this back in 2005 when I had pretensions of being a proper writer, I still think it's pretty good....

“Did I ever tell you about the time I found that magic paper handkerchief?”

Dermot Kennedy studied Saul, his drinking companion of many a year, sourly.

“I don’t believe you did,” he said eventually.

Saul took another swig from his pint, as though the subject was closed.

Dermot took another gulp of his own pint. He was not a man to be easily out-nonchalanted.

“Saul,” he said, at length. “I must admit, Normally you don’t interest me. Normally, you sit on that barstool and you talk about your Marjorie, little Sean or Ursula. You might make a remark about the footie. You might even express a view about the weather. But you’re not what I’d call an interesting man…”

Saul nodded in a not particularly interesting manner.

“But today, Saul, today you interest me…?”

Saul looked up questioningly, richly puzzled at this turn of events.

“Today, Saul, you sit on your bar stool as normal – but then – in a very un-normal way – you ask me if I’ve heard about the time you found the magic paper handkerchief…and suddenly you interest me…”
“

Ah,” said Saul.

“Not to excess, you understand Saul. But I would say my interest is piqued. Somewhat.”

“Ah,” said Saul again, abstractedly sipping his pint.

“So, Saul, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d be grateful if you had a mind to elucidate me further…in your own time, of course.”

“Well,” said Saul, “there was this time I found a magic paper handkerchief…”

“I think,” said Dermot, “that we have established that and indeed my once piqued interest already feels a hint of the wane…”

“Well,” said “Saul, “I had one of them colds…”

“One of what colds would that be, Saul?”

“One of them colds that people catch when it’s cold. A great snuffling, snot-nose of a cold, a great runny head full of mucus sort of a cold…

“Ah, one of them colds,” said Dermot.“And I was at the airport…”

“And what was a man like yourself doing at the airport then, Saul, what with you having one of them colds, an all?”

“Well our Marjorie…”“Ah, Saul, I can tell the details of the necessity of your visit to the airport are not necessarily what you’d call pertinent to your relating…”

“Right you are Dermot, pertinent they were not, never less so,” said Saul, tapping the right-hand side of his nose meaningfully.

“Anyway, there I was on this strictly non-pertinent visit to the airport with one of them colds and the snot was streaming out of me like one of them rivers….Dermot nodded.

“And our Marjorie said that I needed a paper hanky,” said Saul

“She wasn’t wrong there Saul. Smart woman your Marjorie, if not a particularly interesting or pertinent one.”

“Very true Dermot. Never a truer word. Anyway, as luck would have it, there was one of them shops there…”

“One of them hanky shops?” asked Dermot.Saul looked doubtful.“No Dermot, I don’t think it was strictly a hanky shop. They sold newspapers and books and magazines and I think they had some of them DVDS. And I think there was some of those NOBO magic markers on special offer, too.”

“Ah it was one of them John Menzies,” said Dermot.

“Or…” said Saul thoughtfully, “it could have been a WH Smith, now I think of it…”

“Aye,” said Dermot, “most likely…”“Anyway, I went in and asked them straight out for a packet of hankies.”

“And did they oblige?”
“Dermot, they did. So there I was, at the airport, with one of them colds and a packet of freshly purchased paper handkerchiefs, nasal relief for the use of.”

“Not a situation I would be envying you of.,.”

“So I opened the packet and blew my nose on the first hanky, all crusty it were. After that is, not before. And I was just about to throw it away, when it spoke to me…”

“It never…”

“Sure as I’m sat on this stool sipping this pint that you kindly provided, it spoke to me.”

“And you never thought to mention this before…”

“Well, Dermot, the moment has never seemed right.”

“Well what did it say to you, you there with that cold an all?”

“It said: ‘Don’t throw me away….’”

“It never…”“Sure as I’m sat here on this…”“I think I gather how sure you are Saul. What else did it say to you in that airport there?”

“It promised me riches, Dermot. Riches beyond the ken of mortal man. It promised to give me that Claudie Schiffer for a wife and it promised to make me irresistible to all women and make me the happiest man in Christendom…”

“And what was to be your part of the bargain, then Saul?”“All it wanted in return was that I didn’t throw it away, cast it aside, like a…”

“Like a used hankie?” Dermot proffered.“Very true and very apt,” said Saul.

“So what did you do?”

“Well Dermot, I did what any man would do, I kept it. It was that Claudia Schiffer that swung it, ever since I saw her in the Magic of David Copperfield, I always thought there was a certain…”
“Chemistry?”

“Yes Dermot, chemistry and, I thought, it would be wrong for either of us to fight it further…”

“So you acquiesced?”

“That I did Dermot. And I treasured that used hanky as though it was my own. Which, in many ways, it was.”

“Well what was the outcome then, Saul? I’m sure it was your Marjorie that was down for the Pub Quiz Tuesday and not the lovely Ms Schiffer and that’s not a mistake a man would make easily…”“

Well, you Dermot. I was sorely misled. I treasured that snotty hanky, gave it everything a slightly-used man-sized ply-fold nose receptacle could crave. It wanted for nothing, but in the end…”

“In the end, Saul?”

“In then end, Dermot, it didn’t deliver. Women still found me largely resistible and the gas bill still goes largely unpaid. I was deceived, cruelly deceived by a Kleenex that was no better than it should have been..”

“You mean...” said Dermot.

“Yes,” said Saul, “it was nothing but a tissue of lies. Same again?”

Duff by Name, Duff by Nature

Sometimes you have to call a cunt a cunt. Sometimes they are a cunting cunt. Into the latter category basically falls Ian Duff, the man who killed Scamp, the best magazine about regional marketing ever. Ian had been basically jibbed by Wilimington and was a bit on his uppers when he came over to talk to me about Scamp. He was on the verge of cocking up his marriage – after about a week – and I was in no state to sell issue 2. Frankly I wanted to sit under a stool, drink rioja and listen to Pink Floyd for the rest of my life. Glory days.
Ian supposedly took over sales for issue 2. After one meeting with him the printers said they wouldn’t support  issue 2 – reneging on the initial agreement. But who could blame them? Slimy, unreliable and unconvincing – and those were Ian’s good points.
Back in the office he then tried to con me in to paying him two grand for issue one, which he was not even a part of. He spent most of his time in the office trying to make up with his bride of seven days and asking me for the number of a girl at Adline he’d had a very brief affair with. She was far too good for him.Predictably we parted company.
Obviously even more broke than I was – which was an achievement – he took to calling me under various guises, he pretended to be his lawyer on one occasion. He then took to calling me and telling me I had offended various “strong forces” and was “in for it”.
Avoid. A complete and utter twat.

Love didn't tear us apart

Today rather than slag off those  I disdain,  I thought it might be nice to do somethining different...

James O’Donnell

James O’Donnell. Perhaps the best mate I ever had and a shocking omission from the first list, but I hope Jim is in no doubt about my regard for him. He has rescued me from so much shit over the years. Driving from Glasgow to Leeds, Birmingham to Blackpool, picking me up when everything I owned was in a garden in Bourneville. Possibly the nicest bloke in the world. Ladies take note. He has a few bob. I want to be his best man though, which may put you off. Most diamondish of geezers and now motoring correspondent for Gafencu. A small payback for all he’s done for me over the years. If I come back to the UK and fail to catch up with Jim then it’s an unsatisfactory trip.

Al Sim

What can you say about Al? One of the most charismatic and intelligent blokes I know. His departure from the industry is a huge loss. It is a tragedy that his life has come to be defined by one untypical night and I have nothing but scorn for the blokes who have revelled in his problems. Without Al you would have nothing to revel in. My contempt for your self-serving opportunism knows no bounds.

Paula Kelsey

Over the years, Ms K and I have had our differences and in terms of madness she is in the box of frogness capacity. She has turned Fresh into a credible awards event and not compromised on the quality of judges. And she once shagged a boy band, but I promised not to mention that and we did get an invoice.

Michael Taylor

Editor etc of Insider, I can’t help but admire his integrity. Never ever been compromised. He is the reason that Insider has risen above the competition and that Insider remains the Holy Grail for business approbation in the NW.

Chris Lloyd

I have never met Chris and not enjoyed his company. He is not going through the best time in his life and I hope to convince him that one day he will be back to what he was. He takes a lot of convincing.

Sandy Lindsay and Nina Wheeler

The queens of Manc PR, both very different, but God have they done well. They have rewritten the PR landscape in the NW, both very astutely calling on the services of Il Duce, without whom nothing in the NW PR world ever seems to succeed.

Martin Carr

Mr C and I go way back and we have ridden out so many bad and good times together. Anybody who ever tells a Jewish joke has never met Martin – one of the most generous and genuine blokes ever. He has picked me up from the gutter and not been (obviously) judgemental. There’s not many like that.

Younis Khan


Younis I miss you mate. Get in touch. During an awful period in my life when I once read the news on Asian Sound Radio (don’t ask) Younis was a beacon of decentness. If you’re having a fit of anti-Muslimness then spend a bit of time with Younis.

Gordon Young

Despite my many postings to the contrary, I would still have a beer with GY. He is surrounded (and married to) scum, but he was basically a decent guy. Not the sharpest by any means, but I wonder these days about how happy he is about the complete lack of integrity or validation his sorry little would-be empire has. A guy that was out of his depth and has been swamped by cunts. We could have achieved so much more.

My Missus

The only reason I am typing this and not dead in a ditch

The Day I Shagged Kylie up the Arse

I must confess you have been lured here under false pretences. Miss Minogue’s orifices, rectal or otherwise, have remained unsullied by the Murray manhood – despite the many nude Polaroids and samples of pubic hair I sent her by recorded delivery. Why, shame to admit, I have not even had Dannii.
However, I have borrowed this notion of boosting traffic to my blog from my dear old pals at The Drum. A token mention of the World Cup here, a fleeting and shallow look at the iPad and even some ill-informed shite about China – all aimed at attracting unwary googling browsers to their site and artificially – and temporarily – swelling their visitor numbers. Love to see the number of revisits.
Shame on my pals at Brazen et al, supposedly experts in social media, for falling for this tosh and retweeting the Drum’s claims to be the 999th most read website in the UK, which still sees them nestling somewhere between donkeyporn.org.uk and johnselwyngummersfavouritesmells.co.uk.
Deceptive, lacking verification and only taken on board by the ill-informed – if Carlsberg wrote positioning statements for Glasgow-based publishing companies…
Nick Clegg was my bitch at Eton by the way