PAIN

Getting Rich ... and Paying the Price

Bloke Called Dave (today's blog):

Clown Shoes...

Disclaimer: all posts on blokecalleddave at blogspot are edited highlights from those at http://blokecalleddave.wordpress.com - occasionally, these differ - but not often. Visit the other page for  more updated content.

This is a post about fame, make-up and mental health issues….though I would like to point out at this juncture that I’m not an insane celebrity transvestite. Actually, that sounds awesome – I would LOVE to be an insane celebrity transvestite, but I can’t afford the lifestyle, the drugs OR the clothes. Just kidding. Anyway…
…I was once quite famous in the UK for one week. I don’t think I’m exaggerating: in five crazy days, I appeared on Richard & Judy, ITV and BBC News, spoke on all major radio stations and was featured in articles by the Sunday Times, Daily Mirror, Daily Mail and Metro. I didn’t pull off a great crime (unless you count crimes against literature), but I once created a series of books that a lot of people thought would be as successful as Harry Potter: they weren’t.
All that aside, I want to tell you the one solid thing I learned about celebrities and fame: the people you’re watching on TV wear a lot of make-up. A lot. A LOT.
When I appeared on Richard & Judy, I was in make-up for absolutely ages. I know I’m ginger (there was nothing they could do about that, although it wasn’t for a lack of effort) and I’m pretty pale – but I couldn’t BELIEVE how much they were applying. I felt really ugly until I walked onto the set and saw Richard Madeley. Now, here’s the thing: Richard is a seriously good looking guy, but I’ve never seen so much make-up on a man who ISN’T wearing clown shoes. I just froze, mesmerised by the sheer weight of the stuff that I could see covering his entire visage. Looking at him sideways, it really did seem like he was masked up for a robbery…and yet I’ve watched R&J for years – on the TV, he looks PERFECTLY NORMAL. Maybe it’s something to do with the lighting? I also learned from a history segment on the same show that something described as ‘a rare, priceless relic that should only be handled by experts wearing special gloves’ can actually be swept into a nappy sack and stuffed in someone’s pocket once the cameras are off. Awesome. It makes me believe that, somewhere in the world, there’s an Oscar being used as a bog-roll holder.
As you’ve probably gathered from the last post, I have very low self-esteem. I’ve only just discovered this, as I strongly suspected that I was depressed. Discovering that you have low self-esteem is pretty shocking, especially when you’re someone who has always felt quite confident and associated those issues purely with that. I’m currently working a book which makes me write down every negative thought process I have and match it against three positive alternatives. I’ve already filled up half of it, and I was only boiling the kettle for a morning coffee.
The only truly positive things I can say about myself are that a) I’m a good dad to two amazing children (five and one, respectively) and that b) I once did something incredibly good that I’m very proud of. I can’t put my hand on my heart and say I’m a great husband, because having low self-esteem means that my wife regularly has her work cut out trying to cheer me up BEFORE she starts her own job. She, of course, would say that I’m a great husband – because she’s awesome.
Oh, and by the way – my books are NOT depressing. They are pretty violent and usually quite funny….but us down folks are generally grade-A comedians. I’ve always wondered if Jack Dee is a triple agent: miserable on stage, happy off stage, and miserable again at home. I guess if that’s the case then at least his wife doesn’t feel cheated when he mooches in front of the big crowds and moans NONSTOP.

In Public.....

Disclaimer: all posts on blokecalleddave at blogspot are edited copies of those athttp://blokecalleddave.wordpress.com - occasionally, these differ - but not often. Visit the other page for  more content.

The shop is packed, but irritatingly quiet….and everyone is looking at me. EVERYONE.

I’m not there to do a talk or a signing: I’m not making any sort of public appearance. If I was, the shop would be half as busy and the people would just be talking to each other.

No….the reason everyone is looking at me and on the split-second edge of explosivelaughter is because my five year old son, grasping my hand and glaring up at me, has just shouted:

“Daddy, you only coughed that loud because you just farted – and I heard it anyway. I think you keep forgetting that I’m down here.”

He’s holding his nose. He’s actually HOLDING his nose.

The shop explodes with laughter. I laugh, too: I’m totally at his mercy and I have absolutely no choice….

…but he’s not getting that game I promised him.

It’s too violent.

It ruins his concentration.

It’s bad for his development…

….and, besides, he did that on PURPOSE.

I know he’s five, but he waited until the shop was quiet. It was just a coincidence that I farted at the right moment…

The Costa Self Esteem

Disclaimer: all posts on blokecalleddave at blogspot are edited copies of those at http://blokecalleddave.wordpress.com - occasionally, these differ - but not often. Visit the other page for  more content.

So, I’m at a fairly well known coffee shop and I’m ordering a medium mocha and a blueberry muffin. The fiercely attractive Barista serving me keeps smiling in a very friendly/borderline flirty sort of way. I find this hugely flattering, as I’m effectively a 35 year old man of average build and looks with ginger hair going to grey and - by choice - a bit beardy. I’m also married with two children, so any attention reminds me that ‘brother, I still got it’. To make things even more interesting, she then leans across and says ‘I know you ordered a medium one, but I made you a large. You have a great day, and keep that smile going.’ The wonders this does for my confidence cannot easily be described. I feel elated, powerful, hunky, sexy and seriously cool…..all in one huge burst…..all until I see her glance at my tray, on which I’ve put my recently purchased book ‘Struggling with Low Self Esteem.’ I look back at her, and there it is: pity.
I was gutted…
…and completely deflated….
…but the muffin was seriously amazing. So I’ve got that going for me.