Friday, 21 January 2011

The Quiet Man.

I obviously didn't make myself clear with yesterday's blog. My fault. When writing a blog it just sort of pours out of my head. I don't edit it or overly-think it out. Fuck, I don't even spel check it. I guess just sometimes when you feel passionately about something you can write so much from your gut reaction that it's easy to actually forget the original point. That's obviously what happened to me. I tried to explain something important and I forgot the whole message that I was trying to send out. Let me make it clear, when I said all that stuff yesterday, what I was trying to ask you, myself, the world is this: How is Paddy McGuinness playing stadiums now?

Last night I met a man called Torquil Zest. He was an incredible man, a decent man, a quiet hero. He was a man that I long to be but woe betide this pitiful planet if I had the power of Torquil Zest. I couldn't harness the power of Torquil Zest. With great power comes great responsibility and I'm too irresponsible for responsibility. But last night, I looked at Torquil zest and I dreamt. A day with that man's qualities. An hour. Five minutes. The changes I could make.

OK, so I didn't actually meet him and I don't know if his name really is Torquil Zest but he definitely exists. I saw him. And he was beautiful.

As you may know, I have made a New Year's Resolution to not let rude people away with rudeness. So far, this has gone really well. Through pointing out other people's rudeness I have managed to get TWO free hash browns, ONE free bottle of Diet Coke and a lot of apologies. This is a New Year's Resolution that I would love you all to join in with and tell me how you get on. HOWEVER....the first rule of Polite Club is that you don't do a pathetic, out-of-date Fight Club joke. Second rule: Be safe. Don't point out to a large gang of knife wielding maniacs that they're not allowed to put their feet up on the seats of the bus. You might find your feet up your arse. With that in mind, last night was my first Polite Club disaster.

I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. A group of lads who looked a bit scary playing loud music on the train. It was loud music. It was terrible music (WHY DO THESE PEOPLE NEVER PLAY THE SMITHS?). But everyone in the carriage sat there quietly and tried to force the noise out of their heads while pretending all this wasn't happening. They were a horrible bunch of fucking cunts who knew exactly what they were doing. There were four of them, they were loud, they were aggressive to one another. Fuck knows what they would be like to a complete stranger if that's how they treat their actual friends. I looked at them and thought about it for ages. Would I get away with it if I asked them to switch their music off? Would the rest of the carriage defend me if they got aggressive? After looking around the carriage I decided "no". I had clocked Torquil Zest but he was reading a book. He was just like everyone else. He was pretending that none of this was happening. Balls. I had failed Polite Club (membership to date: 1). I put my iPod on and went on Twitter and tried to forget about it.

That's the thing about Torquil. He's not like everyone else. Firstly, he's utterly massive. Secondly, he'll give you a chance but if you don't take that chance then he will use the fact that he's utterly massive.

10 minutes into me hiding in my iPod, Torquil got up from his seat. He walked down towards the horrible, loud people. He looked so beautiful. His shoulders blocking out all light, his stride confident and deadly, if he had any hair it would have been romantically wind swept and handsome. Now here is confidence: He didn't ask them to turn their music down. Oh no. That's not Torquil's style. Instead he sat right down between them, BETWEEN THEM, asking them to give him a seat. After asking them all if they were OK he calmly turned to the one with the loud music and said "Give me that. I'll switch it off for you".

YES! YES, TORQUIL, YES. You magnificent God among men. He sat with them for maybe two minutes before asking the lads to keep the noise down and returning to his seat. The status of those lads changed beyond all recognition. They barely even spoke for the rest of the journey. Not that I would have heard a word because I was lost to Torquil Zest. I just replayed what happened over and over in my head, loving it each time, and Torquil, Oh Torquil, just got bigger, better and more beautiful each time I thought about it. I stopped myself from Tweeting about it all because it was too perfect. I wanted to keep Torquil to myself. He was my Torquil and I just wasn't ready to share yet. Plus, I wanted to be him. That's when the thoughts got dark.

Look how calm Torquil was. He didn't need to get too aggressive because he could pulverise everyone in the world. If that was me, there would be about 18 people left on the planet. I would love to be all big and muscley and tough because I would like to think I would use all that for good but I know I wouldn't. The least little cough in a cinema and I'd punch the popcorn down the cunt's throat. If someone whistled on the tube I would kick their copy of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo up their arse. If I clicked on Chortle and saw an unworthy game show host was playing the o2 Arena then HULK SMASH! It wasn't Torquil's size that I wanted, it was his calm reserve. His calm reserve that got things done. Like a 15 tonne Gandhi. Torquil could give us a Shangri-La but in my hands it would be Armageddon. Tonight thank God it's him instead of me.

I love you Torquil.


@alnapp said...

how professional, can you imagine the fuss Mr H would have made?

Anonymous said...

No need to publish this, just thought I'd mention: a blog is your collection of posts. A blog post - or just, post - is the single entry (it's not like "columns" in a newspaper, more like entries in a diary).

That's all dude, sorry for the pedantry :)