The Biggest Loser: me

Something strange happened last night, I can only say I must have been sleepwalking hungry, after a rather early night.

Alas, The Biggest Loser (Mondays, 9pm), ITV1's recently primetime-promoted and jazzed up weight loss war against the fatty sprang up on the television and didn't cease to disappear for quite a while longer.

Think X Factor, but beefed up, literally. There's no live audience yet, but I expect that'll come in series 3 with a host of famous ex-lards worth at least one billion dollars:
"He's sold a trillion weight loss DVDs in Japan, and NOW he's here live in the studio to perform his latest WORKOUT to Celine Dion's MY HEART WILL GO ON."
Yes, we're talking about a sinking ship - the Beached Whale routine will come "ON NEXT WEEK'S SHOW", from another famous suctioned celeb.
At this stage I'm imagining the voice of David Lamb from Come Dine With Me, although, maybe that's a tad too ironic.

They're already half way there with the set, sort of - predictably oversized scales coinciding with a 'dazzingly' studio, which, coincidentally looks like it's been stolen from the Dancing On Ice ring. I imagine the dynamic structure was used as a task for the contestants to lose weight:

"GET ON THE ICE AND PULL THAT -123°C BACKDROP TO STUDIO 4." Because, after all, it's an ITV reality show, and it's got to be EPIC.

And well much like the singing talent show, I was expecting 'heart rendering' stories, but there's always next week: "Last summer, I collapsed on my dog, and he had to have heart surgery (visuals cut to image of dog with bandage around head)."

It's not long before we are reminded of the seriousness of the situation with a Clint Eastwood line, sorry, I mean quote straight from the heart :
“My life’s at stake here. If I leave here I’m a dead man walking”, says one male contestant as overweight viewers around the country panic about how they will survive without being on this show.

And then there's fitness guru to the people 'Davina Macall' presenting, and looking particularly concerned. Not because she's worried, but because her eyebrows appear to be plucked for a Star Trek audition. Think Spock, adressing his Enterprise crewmates after an expedition to earth and a miguided day trip to McDonalds.

Davina seems caring, at first, when asking one contestant, probably called Jan, to choose whether her or her friend leave the 'competition' after losing the least weight:
"Are you alright?" Davina says.....approx 3 second wait..."You've got ten minutes."

Primetime, it's a brutal world - whether you've had a gastric band fitted in Cuba or not.

The main problem with the show is 'The Biggest Loser' title and the repetition of the words regularly during the show. I'm sure the producers high fived with joy when they came up with such a pun. Yes, someone will lose the most weight, but surely there's that niggling bit of doubt in the winner's head about their cool factor (0).
They are, after all, The Biggest Loser.

Because for these contestants it's rather unlikley Simon will be on the phone with a 5 mill record deal, or OK! with their first photo shoot. They could join the post Christmas DVD fitness money-makers, but they'll have to fend of Davina for that market.

Gap YAAAH: A response to David Mitchell

A good gap year can be completely worthwhile, but David Mitchell's 'Beneath Borders Campaign' (as I'm naming it), in the Guardian, could mean as far as we get is the local Caravan site.

I remember my gap year or ‘yah’ before university as challenging and fulfilling in many ways. I don’t, however, remember thinking my carefully budgeted trip abroad "gadding around" like I was on some sort of passing visit with the royal family – me playing the role of a privileged Prince waving patronisingly at poor Ugandan children.

My travelling experience was far more involved, and very different from David Mitchell’s generalised view of a year out - it certainly didn’t turn me into a fantasist as he suggests, although I don’t think there’s anything wrong with dreaming.

If anything, my 5 months abroad gave me a clearer view of what lies outside of my small Essex town, and in a global economy where countries are becoming increasingly intertwined, knowing more of the “unreal world” I’d say is ever more important. Even if you are just eating Chop Suey in Beijing - I didn't, by the way.

A couple of my parent’s friends did suggest I may not return; that I could end up dreadlocked to my knees in Zambia and with skin so tanned I’d look like a homeless Crocodile Dundee. This coincides with the presumption A Level students are not ready to make significant decisions, and yet they’re often, shrewdly, grasping for that bit of freedom before being hoiked onto the next level of education, or a career ladder they're not sure about.

Before the 'jet setting' began, I worked full time for four months in a department store. I folded towels, and advised, badly, on bed sheets in the Home section. Home was in-fact where I wanted to be most of the time because it wasn’t a particularly riveting experience, but it was necessary.

I mean, Daddy sometimes gave me a lift to work, but he was never going to help me sponsor some underprivileged orphan from Kazakhstan. I had mum for that.

But seriously, it wasn’t a normal thing amongst my friends to go on a tropical travelling extravaganza, and it’s a shame that according to David Mitchell, the tuition fees increase means the year out before university will become a thing for "super rich kids". David, it’s sad you feel this is a “good outcome” – I’m sorry you ended up on some unsatisfactory InterRailing fun-faire to 'Bore-deaux', but for some of us it was a completely worthwhile experience.

I trekked through the jungle tracking ancient Mayan ruins and worked on a rainforest conservation project in Belize, and then took a month’s Spanish course in Guatemala.
It sounds cliché and a tad hooray henry but it wasn't - it was really quite eye opening. Who knows if I’ll ever be able to do anything like that again.

You’re right David, I never saw peccary (horned pigs), dodgy Guatemalan salesman, or worryingly sized rats during my three years at Bournemouth University, but if I had, I’d have been prepared. Yes, we had a few wandering addicts by my halls from the nearby homeless centre but nothing like the slums in India – I didn’t go there either.

When you’ve taken the opportunity to see more than what’s on your doorstep it’s that initiative which broadens the mind. The will to have an experience out of your comfort zone - I gained an independence which made me wholly more confident and helped me hugely at university, from the lecture hall to the union nightclub. I didn’t change the world, but I’m sure some people do.

David Mitchell is looking down at those who have thoroughly enjoyed themselves during a year out, and for taking a leap into the unknown.

It’s this sneering which makes him the snob, calling us the "vociferous" type for flinging ourselves full force into foreign cultures and enjoying every minute of it (maybe not the diarrhoea and vomitting).

And David, I didn’t buy ethnic ponchos or beaded bracelets, I brought back a hankering for black bean soup along with an aggressively coloured hammock, which, by the way, I still use.

When you’re young, who cares, you’ve got the rest of your life to be serious, I’m just annoyed the tuition fees rise means so many won't be able to afford the same leap into the unknown.

The Big Smoke, aka The Real World

(Photo: J.A. Alcaide)

Sorry for the new-post delay but I've been living a rather jam-packed lifestyle during my interesting transition from student to real person, with, hopefully, generating prospects.

After I finished my dissertation, and allowed a few days to say goodbye to my fellow confused friends, I headed up slightly North like I was off on holiday (but never coming back).
Essentially, you could say I have moved to London, but that would be completely misleading and a blatant lie - this would be because what I am, in a rather large nutshell, is a squatter: of the fairly legal kind.
Every morning when my brother opens his bedroom door he will find a strange man lying on a mattress in the corrider. This man is me.

There are, however, many perks about working in the city, and these are as follows:

Number 1 - Forget about going to a fancy spa (I never have), you can get a sauna of the fainting variety on the Victoria Line. It's all the rage to look like you've been for a run in the Sahara before arriving at work.

Number 2 - Lots of people where perfume/aftershave - students can't afford this luxury generally- sometimes this is a good smell but sometimes it's like having a bag of dried fruit slapped in your face, repeatedly.

Number 3 - Tourists always seem happy (why wouldn't they...they're on holiday!)- although they also seem to walk insanely slow and trap you as you attempt to pass them.

Number 4 - Lots of London workers lunch in expensive outlets- I have been trying to make my own sandwiches to save money, but a) they go off in the heat b) I make them and then leave them behind accidentally.

Number 5 - Everyone thinks they're a celebrity - what I mean by this is, particularly in the area near where I am doing my internship in central London, a considerable amount of people wear sunglasses, which is normal when there is sun. But, when you're on a tube, with not the best lighting, there is still a large amount looking like they're hiding from the paparazzi.

Number 6 - For all these things it's actually a lot of fun (I'm not sure my brother agrees).

The Narnia of Essex

- STA World Traveller Internship update

It's been a busy few days, to say the very least.

I've had possibly less sleep than Jack Bauer and I've been almost as action-packed, although, off course, a little less dangerous.
Last weekend I ran around my home town in Essex much like an inadequate athlete, with a tripod, and the odd mate, to film my STA final video - I am now in the top ten of this crazy internship competition and it's getting very exciting.


As I filmed my video I had people chanting at me from the street as I attempted to down a local oyster - truth be told there were two, and I threw the first one up, of which I went to put in the bin, but managed, somehow, to drop on the floor. And much like Britain's Got Talent people cheered, and jeered, from all around, like a mob - I should point out a nice one. Furthermore, it was rather strange being clapped when I finally popped the local seafood 'treat' down, but I guess I can say it's an accomplishment and at least it stayed down.


I also cut my foot rather badly getting into the boat in one of the last shots, and the saltwater made the cut look like I had been the victim of GFH (grievous foot harm), in-fact I believe it was damaged on an oyster on the muddy beach, which was probably intent on getting revenge on the death of it's family member eaten/thrown up earlier on. This foot-related damage, by the way, was painful.


Further to this, I acquainted myself with many a local I didn't know: Bruce, "I like anything with speed in it", is a highlight for me. I literally flagged him down off the water, and he later said I could come out sailing with him anytime: legend. He has sailing videos of him losing "man overboard" on youtube apparently!
I also tested many a local ale as part of my Essex exploration, and for free: what a good surprise that turned out to be.


And well, I think I should explain my Narnia theme: basically I live in a cupboard in my student house, and often a casual guest in my home refers to my pad as the boiler room. It's not that bad, but people often don't realise this 'place' is actually my accommodation. More precisely one individual once looked into my room and said it was like opening the door to Narnia, hence my exploration of this idea in my hometown, because Burnham is essentially the Narnia of Essex, and not necessarily something people may expect to find from a county with a generally unfavorable image.


So anyway, here's my final video and if you like what you see, you may well not, vote for me here (thanks):





If you would like to purchase one of the modeled shell suits, the local charity shop in the above featured town is a fantastic place to grab a one-piece - I tried to film inside this second-hand haven but I was not allowed.

Right, must dash, I've got a meeting with the devil/dissertation, and I currently have very little to discuss.

My first time on skis

30/03/2010 (It's been a busy few weeks)

This will be explained:

Last weekend, on the rainy Saturday, a 'good' friend of mine informed me he was going to test out his new skis on the dry slope just a short drive away from where we study in Bournemouth.

After telling me his plans, he enthusiastically suggested that I join him on skis, which now seems a rather spontaneously naive idea considering I had never tried out this activity before, and he has a dark sense of humour.

Granted I've snowboarded for a while now, but like Luke Skywalker, I've been trying to resist the dark side of the piste planet, but the mate in question, David Row, or for this event, Darth Vader, thought it was the best idea he had had in along time.

Now I know why.

As we arrived at the slope in the pouring rain I came to the realisation that I am neither a fan of these rather steep, hard slopes, or that it was the best idea for me to test them out; having never skied before. Dave, however, was less concerned:

"You will be absolutely fine," he said, "I'll give you all the tips you need."

Too be fair his motivational skills did have me believing I was going to become some sort of downhill Olympic champion (Bode Miller in-fact if you watch the video further down) - off course this did not happen.

The turning point I think was when we queued up to pay for the ski gear and the lady at the desk asked: "Tick here to confirm you are a competent skier and you can manage to get up and down the slope without any problems."

With Dave digging in my back like some sort of bank robber I ticked, my hand slightly shaking at the thought of signing away my dignity.

Then, after putting my skis on I waddled much like a constipated penguin along to the mid-way point of the hard slope, again being willed on by Darth/Dave. As I reached the precipice of my downhill adventure, I turned around to Darth for the vital advice I needed to begin my skiing career and make it down the slope safely. But Dave was smiling rather weirdly, clearly holding back chuckles from his grimacing face, and as I pestered him for pointers he proceeded to push me along; nearer and nearer to the slope.

"You're going to be good at this," he had announced as we left the safe compounds of the centre. I was less confident.

In no uncertain terms I assured him this wasn't going to be a success in less he gave me some clearer instructions.

Before I knew it I was 'blasting' down the track like Usain Bolt, but with no idea how to stop, and although I can't deny the extreme adrenaline rush I felt, shooting through the yellow inflatable piste barriers into the children's sledging area on just my second run was not a highlight.

As I looked up Dave was on the floor - no, unfortunately he hadn't fallen over, he was in hysterics.

"Now go to the top," he attempted to shout through increased laughter.

I knew what he had in mind and I was going to prove him wrong. So I bravely tackled the button lift and hitched right to the top of the slope; a place, which for first-timers, is a bit like a sweet shop for the overweight - you shouldn't be there. And I knew it.

But I was on a one-way mission to master these two obstacles attached to my feet - forget the beginner bandwagon, like 50 Cent, I wanted to pimp that piste.

So I launched myself off the top, rather apprehensively, and I began to 'ski' down.

In an effort not to look too amateur I decided to straight-line the piste area, which, consequently, did not go down particularly well with the instructor at the bottom.

As I reached the man in the official jacket he told me rather sternly that should I do that again I would not be allowed back.

In my mind I'd made rather good work of a bad situation, however I did then decide to call it a day.

I went up to Dave smiling, and then winded him in the stomach with a ski pole - we are still good friends but next time I'm getting an instructor.

In-fact we're going on the university ski trip soon and I've suggested he try out snowboarding for the first-time, because as we all know, revenge is sweet.

For proof of this event here is this video...my face may confirm the fact we had been out the night before:

Wish You Were Here

There are many situations in every day life where I would prefer to shy away from selling myself like an Ebay item; the all-eyes-on-me factor is an element I find closely linked with the "I'm fantastic", boobs-out, gun-show, from reality show wannabes.

But for the STA World Traveller Internship I have recently applied for (the videos are in the posts below), although the application involved broadcasting myself, the prize was something hugely worthwhile; to travel the world for three months. This would include filming, taking photos, and blogging about such exotic experiences.

Think Judith Charmers on Wish You Were Here, but more far-flung, and hopefully slightly more manly.

Therefore my ambitions to suceed have meant I have had to step out of my comfort zone and attempt to 'charm' the judges through the visual medium. Please don't laugh yet.

Part of the competition means asking for people to vote for me, which at times has seemed a bit like a Miss/Mr World competition - at one point I felt like adding in world peace as an extra incentive for my prospective voters.

But HOW have I campaigned? Well, let me take you on a little journey via my trusty Facebook account.

Here is it how it all began: after I uploaded my video a few of my friends took on the campaign immediately - one of my housemates I believe would be a good asset to Gordon Brown right now:

Then I took on the baton:

As you can see, much like Clairol, I tried the nice and easy option - slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.

Then to avoid repetition I publicised the longer interview with the rather hilarious Austrian girl to try and lure my unsuspecting YouTube savvy friends back to my STA page.

At this point, fearful in the knowledge that my Facebook counterparts may have begun to bore of my situation, I tried to up my game and be a little more inventive:

Perhaps more recently I have become a tad desperate:

Before you get too concerned, I would suggest 80% of my friends have a good sense of humour.

Now, today is the last day of first-round voting, so I've decided to go back to the old-skool and keep things rather simple, therefore hoping those who have been in bed for the past couple of weeks will now wake up to my call.

I can only hope.

If you want you can still vote.

What a poor rhyme, I apologise.

"English people are weird": Yes, I'd agree with that

I present you more footage from my STA World Traveller Internship application (my full video is in the post further down and it'd be nice if you voted for me here).

Below is an extended interview with the hilarious Austrian girl.

Here's her take on us English, and more:

By the way, I know it's bad that I did not initially spot the seafront/Vienna error - we all get things wrong in the heat of the moment!

Welcome to my world

Here is my rather random entry into the STA World Traveller Internship.

If you think I'm alright then perhaps you could vote for me here

(no registration required). Thanks.