Forget Eldorado, the Grail, the Philosopher’s Stone or the fabled elixir of eternal youth – I’ve discovered something far more sought after.
The recipe for guest blogging.
You can see for yourself here on the People Per Hour blog. Hurrah. They asked me to write for them. So I did. The post is called Why you need to be more like Steve McQueen. (There are a couple of photos too. I’m in one. The good one features Steve McQueen.)
It turns out the secret is simple. Whatever the subject, be sure to feature sex, drugs and Steve McQueen. Well, it worked that time. And I’m doing it right now (er… mentioning them that is) in this blog post (ok, ok, strictly speaking not a guest post). Surely that’s a trend, if not a new universal rule?
Actually Steve McQueen and I go way back, thanks to that Christmas afternoon TV staple, The Great Escape. For a while I answered to Steve (not Stephen) as well as my given name.
Then I enlisted God to bless our special relationship. (It was a special relationship a bit like that of Britain and the USA – with me as Britain and Steve ignorant of my existence.)
I was raised as a Catholic. The time came for my confirmation – which happened while I was at primary school – primary four, I think – so aged eight or nine. Bit young? Yes. But the bishop was visiting the parish so the school decided to get three year groups done in one go.
Confirmation is a religious rite of passage in which the baptised child (or adult) confirms the baptismal vows taken on their behalf by their godparents – reject evil, etc. It’s supposed to happen when the child has reached a certain level of maturity – which should make the age threshold at least 35, or in our case, nine.
Part of the confirmation ceremony is that each child chooses a confirmation name – a second or third private name that symbolises their confirmation of their rebirth in Christ. It had to be a saint’s name.
So naturally my confirmation name was Steve. Not Stephen. Not the martyr. But St Steve McQueen, patron saint of motorbikes, escaping and all kinds of coolness. And that was before I’d seen Bullitt.
So to clarify, when writing a guest post on someone else’s blog, be sure to include:
- Sex
- Drugs
- Steve McQueen
- Or whoever your patron saint or confirmation name is
- Or whoever/whatever you used to watch on Christmas Day telly
Jenny Agutter - This is from the Railway Children, isn't it? It was all I could find.
One slight catch just occurs to me. That’s all very well for the first post. But what about if they ask me for a second one?
I wonder what used to be on telly earlier in the afternoon before The Great Escape? The Railway Children maybe? Hmmm… Jenny Agutter, flushed face, ripping up her red petticoat. Yes, that could work as a metaphor. With sex and drugs, of course. Might need more thought, but tally ho. Light at the end of the tunnel. We’re off again.
Blackwatertown 
I saw Jenny Agutter in the restaurant at the Royal Festival Hall a couple of years back. Still very much got it. Oh yes indeed.
I’ll leave you to do the work in attracting attention to the post, which, of course, should also attract equal attention to the comments.
Jenny Agutter – yes.
I took a confirmation name for much more mundane reasons – Anthony, to pay a debt to the patron saint fo blackmailers. Like the recently disembowelled Anglo Irish Bank, I owed him more than I could ever repay at that age even if I mortgaged my pocket money for the rest of my youth, so I took his name instead, hopefully not in vain.
Jenny Agutter doesn’t do for me what she does for you 😉 so I’ll stick with Steve McQueen. By the time I have taken all my daily drugs (pills)…. who knows I might dream about Steve McQueen having sex with Anne or Ann! It is so long since that name was added at my Confirmation that I cannot remember which spelling I used. It is so long since I had s…… Oh never mind, I am off to feed the ducks!
Know what you mea…
Sorry, what I meant to say was – I’m speechless and have no idea what you mean at all.
Now… where are those ducks?
Soon as I read Steve McQueen, I thought…
“The Great Escape.” Yeah
No no, your recipe isn’t quite right. It has to be kinky sex, hallucinogenic drugs, and a scantily-clad Steve McQueen. Plus a gorgeous pouting Liz Hurley for the blokes who’re not really into Jenny Agutter. Like me.
Oh and maybe a short run-down on the global economic situation for those readers who claim they’re above such trivia as long-haired, bosomy starlets.
OK, Liz Hurley, I’ll file that away for future reference.
But re your second point. Is there anyone who is above scantily clasd stars/lets? Oh, right. “…readers who claimed they’re above…” Gotcha.
We’ll have parliamentary goings on, writers and education matters in the near future.
I will write one for your blog. How much will you pay?
Funny you should say that.
Haven’t got round to posting on it yet, but was going to suggest that as the competition – probably something along the lines of meeting a personal icon/celebrity/hero and it not turning out as well as you’d hoped – in a funny way. So you’re the first to know.
Can’t think why that subject came to mind.
Oh, did I mention I met a famous writer the other day? Didn’t go well.
Will post on it very soon.
Like your blog. Good post. Now I know the secret.
Good grief. You don’t like calls from the school because they would interrupt your flight pattern from pub to pub – chat to chat – author to author and so on. And that is how it should be. Bright children require challenges and the most challenging thing in school these days is how to get out of it. You and your children could have conversations that might go: “I really hate those meaningless calls from your school.: Children’s chorus: ” And we really hate attending that meaningless school.” Then at the pub you could say to the assembled “My children and I agree that their school is meaningless and is only preparing them for unemployment at which the chorus of unemployed supporters of the bar tenders of Britain might reply “Funny thing, that sounds like my childhood.” Ah the human condition to which we are not conditioned. Great post.
Are you mad?! (I should have used an interrobang there.) School keeps them occupied for hours five days a week. Otherwise I’d have to do it.
Oh, and they learn stuff too.
PS you look like an altar boy who skipped service. It is the visage of one who is ready to run at any moment to avoid unnecessary immersion in of whatever is the locus of the focus.
And there was me imagining myself as one of Horatio’s mates on the bridge.