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The Story So Far
fops, tv stardom and messiahs
Yes, the
world was my oyster, but unfortunately it didn’t contain any silver
pearls. As soon as I had walked out of the school gates I was manhandled
by a government official and sent straight to the local careers centre.
Once there I was quickly brainwashed into partaking in a new
experimental employment initiative called the Youth Training Scheme (YTS),
the sequel to the highly classified YOB scheme. It was here that I met
my life long friend and confidante
Tim
Bailey. I’ll never forget his
first words to me. We were trying to programme COMMODORE PET computers
to do something useful, Tim glanced at my computer programme and said,
“That’ll never work.” Thus, the rest is history.
For the
next seven years I was a guinea pig for several such training programmes,
each new one grown out of it’s predecessor like some ugly skin graft.
We were given the impression that we were being trained for a career
that would last a lifetime and earn us a fair wage but we were in fact
being deceived. We were trained alright, but only for some two bit
schemes to follow. I was allegedly trained in computer and office work
on various programmes whose titles changed, but attitude didn’t...YTS,
ET (Education Training), JTS (Job Training Scheme), FOP (For Odd People)
and GITS (Get It Together Scheme).
I
finally got off the schemes round-a-bout in 1989 when I secured my first
paid job as a computer graphics assistant in a small company that
produced little bits of coloured plastic in the shape photographic
slides for business presentations. I spent the next two and a half years
in therapy, coming to terms with the fact that I had money.
Unfortunately
midway through 1992 the company got sucked into an inter-dimensional
pothole and I found myself standing at a crossroads. The idea of selling
my soul to the devil did cross my mind but instead, I decided that I’d
try and make it big on the small screen. So for one year I became Anne
Diamond and Nick Owen’s lackey on the Good Morning show. A tasteless,
tacky and cheesy morning magazine programme on BBC TV. Unfortunately I
never made it in front of the camera, because I was locked away in a
darkened room with a red hot switchboard and made to answer to the
hoards of viewers who rang in to the studios, enquiring of the show, “WHHHHHHYYYYYY!!!”
Eventually
the programme got so full of itself that it disappeared up it’s own
backside and I was cast out into the community, my only souvenirs, a
cardboard replica of Anne and Nick and a photocopied diploma in media
techniques.
Fortunately
I bumped into HRH Prince Charles down the local fish and chip shop and
he set me up on one of his personal development courses with the Princes
Trust Volunteers. The course was designed for poor directionless work
shy manic depressives, so I fitted in just dandy.
By this
point in my life, I had discovered that I had a hidden talent for
annoying my neighbours by strumming my out of tune guitar and singing my
self-penned songs at the top of my voice. So I decided to put everyone
out of there misery by learning the in’s and out of music at my local
college.
Once
there, I set about turning the traditional music establishment on it’s
head, the pinnacle of which was the performance of my radical orchestral
work, Symphony for Orchestra and Food Blender. For weeks afterward, I
sat by the phone awaiting news of exciting commissions from world famous
orchestras.
I’m
still waiting.
I was
down and out. I thought my life couldn’t possibly get any worse. I
began questioning everything. Who I was, where I was going.
I joined several religions and secret societies. For a time I was
a practising Native American Buddhist Druid Time Lord known as Star
Child. I thought I knew it all. But I knew nothing. I retreated into my
own world. By day I was an un-employed lay-about, by night I was XEON,
messiah to the masses at the local community centre. For a time I was
giving them all a run for there money, the aromatherapy class,
reincarnation for beginners, the make your own crucifix woodwork class,
Aura photography. Even those from the group who met each Tuesday evening
to sit inside pyramids made out of silver foil, migrated to my little
meeting for a time.
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