"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
Do you know who said that? You're right. It was the 4th Doctor. And how right he is. I am 41 years of age and have to deal with bills, complaints to the council and occasionally tidying up. Which is why I'm completely far more interested in acting like a 5 year old at every opportunity. Being childish is just fucking brilliant.
Maturity raised it's ugly head quite early on yesterday when I decided it was time to start packing away my Museum of Star Wars. It takes up 6 shelves in my spare room and is a complete fucking eyesore. Having one or two Star Wars related items round your house is acceptable but 6 shelves of it? Every time I look at it it feels like I'm just trying to get my virginity back.
But, of course, part of me wanted to keep the MoSW for all to see. By all, I mean Johnny Candon when he comes to stay. So, it was slightly depressing to be dusting these relics (some of which I've genuinely had since 1977) and putting them away in a box. I then did some writing work that I was behind on, wrote a letter to my accountant, did some laundry, washed dishes and cooked a proper meal. It was a "mature" day and my brain had had enough. By 10 o'clock Muki and I had sat down to watch the fucking Winter fucking Olympics (think you know how happy I was about that) and my brain started to wander. It needed something to do. Something stupid. Luckily I have an iPhone.
The iPhone is the most technologically advanced little trinket that you can own right now. I mean, it's reasonably cutting edge, isn't it? All those useless apps and the crappy camera and the compass... it's a fantastic piece of old toot. My new favourite thing is the Voice Control. You press the main button at the bottom of the iPhone for two seconds and then you say the name of the person you wish to contact and HEY PRESTO you are immediately calling them up. Well, that would be the case if it worked. It doesn't work. Ever. I tried dozens of names and it always started calling a different person. Useless.
My childish brain didn't think it was useless though. Oh, no. My childish brain is very much a "glass half full" kind of childish brain. Full of Sunny Delight and shouting. It was then that my brain invented my brain's favourite new game. Celebrity True Identity.
Did you know that celebrities aren't really who they say they are? No. They're people in your iPhone contacts. I spent an hour playing this and giggling. I pressed the Voice Control button and said "Elvis". It immediately started calling my friend Liz. I laughed. Far too long for a 41 year old. I pressed again and said "Madonna". Madonna is actually Tara Flynn. HA HA HA HA HA HA! P. Diddy? That's Bennett Arron. Ian Paisley is Susan Murray, Bungle is Will Smith, MC Hammer is Stephen Grant and Kylie Minogue is Woodlands Health Centre.
AN HOUR I spent on that. A FUCKING HOUR. Being thoroughly entertained. Thing is, once you start it's very hard to stop. I ran out of celebrities pretty quickly so went on to childish name calling (Helicopter Face is Paul Kerensa) and then, obviously, swearing. No one is cunt, no one is twat but Bastard is Stuart Goldsmith and, my personal favourite, Pigeon Balls is Tiernan Douieb which I think is an improvement. At least I didn't have to look up how to spell Pigeon Balls.
AN HOUR! An hour on that game. Remember, all you need is an iPhone, some contacts and an IQ of 4. Enjoy!