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MaykitBooks

Volume 1

JEREMY CLARKSON BORROWED MY BLOG - VOLUME 1 Don’t want digital? Click here to order a paperback edition 180pp 15.24x22.86cm ISBN 9781447506621

Volume 2

JEREMY CLARKSON BORROWED MY BLOG - VOLUME 2 Don’t want digital? Click here to order a paperback edition 181pp 15.24x22.86cm ISBN 9781447509936

Volume 3

JEREMY CLARKSON BORROWED MY BLOG - VOLUME 3 Don’t want digital? Click here to order a paperback edition 180pp 15.24x22.86cm ISBN 9781447530169

Volume 4

JEREMY CLARKSON BORROWED MY BLOG - VOLUME 4 Don’t want digital? Click here to order a paperback edition 197pp 15.24x22.86cm ISBN 9781291369137

Jeremy Clarkson

borrowed my blog

This 4-volume epic (!) is a highly irreverent and satirical look at life through a series of totally untrue news stories - although some have remarked that there could well be an element of truth in some of them! No politician, celebrity, non-celebrity, banker, institution or brand is safe. All are equally pilloried for all they are worth - or for that matter, not worth. The story behind the name is below.

Sample story

P and O Ferries are to sue Chris De Burgh having determined that a recent downturn in their business has been as a direct result of the resurgence in airplay of his 1982 hit "Don't pay the ferryman". Head of their business unit, Captain Ann Tenille said: “We felt that the wording of his song "Don't pay the ferryman" has seen an increasing number of passengers who not only "Don't pay the ferryman", but also "don't even fix a price" and many insist on "waiting until he gets you to the other side". 'We simply cannot afford to transport passengers under these terms and conditions, especially as we are fast approaching that "peak season" time of year when all transport operators are expected to charge higher fares for a consistently inferior service to one passengers could use have used off-peak. 'We are especially annoyed that members of the public only know one other song by Mr Burgh anyway, that whining and irritating "Lady in Red". 'When I phoned Mr Burgh, the first thing he said to me was "I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight, I've never seen you shine so bright I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance", which I found quite patronising, as he couldn't see me, and certainly could not ascertain my level of luminosity from one simple phone call. ‘Next thing people will be suggesting that I "take my daughter to the slaughter".'

Behind the book title

A strange name for a book you might say – “Jeremy Clarkson borrowed my Blog” Well I am convinced that he did. Borrow my blog that is! Or perhaps even read it. Or even come across it by accident and perhaps made use of it for inspiration. But I didn’t receive an acknowledgment, or even get offered a few pence as reward. I have contributed to various blog sites over the years, albeit as somewhat of a frustrated satirist, submitting news and current affairs articles, containing what the reader may at times conclude might be less than a grain of truth. However, having had a go at mobile phone users in my Daily Telegraph blog dated 13th September 2007, I spied that columnist Jeremy Clarkson, in his Sunday Times column of the 16th September, three days following my posting, had written an article with content bearing a rather uncanny similarity to that which I had written. I challenged both Jeremy and his editor, via email, but still await, to this day, a reply offering either explanation or denial. I have a sneaking suspicion I am in for a fairly long wait, it having been several years now. I know they - or their assistants - did read my email, because I ticked the delivery and read receipt box for each through the Thunderbird email programme, an acknowledgement I duly received back. Sadly I can’t reproduce it here, as those nice occasional and welcoming glitches one sometimes get with  Windows that requires a reformat of the hard drive and a reinstallation resulted in the total loss of my emails. So please, just sit back and have a laugh, and, if anything offends, I apologise and respectfully suggest that you ignore the path the self-appointed doyenne of morality and president of the National Viewers’ and Listeners’ Association, the late Mary Whitehouse might have taken. That is, put it down ot recycle it. She ruled over what she perceived as the bad-taste (depending upon your point of view) ether for over 30 years, and would have wanted to put this book down on your behalf - without of course allowing you to judge for yourself. She possibly would have read it at least five or six times herself just ‘to be sure’. If you don’t like what you read, then be my guest to put the book down and go treat yourself to a Maeve Binchy, Clive Cussler (or whatever tickles your literary fancy) novel. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy. Oh! And thanks for the inspiration Jeremy. I am actually flattered that my meanderings gave you some food for thought.
The “MyTelegraph” Blog Site 13 September 2007 Daily Telegraph Grumpy old man speaks - mobile phones As I casually walked through the sprawling metropolis that is Sheffield this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the large advertisement for the Motorola Razr (like their target audience, the company plainly can’t spell) occupying the entire side of local double-deckers. “Web, Music, Email” the advertisement glossily pronounced. But n’er a reference to making phone calls, or even the dreaded texts! “Crystal clear vision and sound on the go” shouts the website for the product. Again no mention of the core function of the object, namely, receiving and making phone calls. Then I received another shock. As I walked through the throngs of Sheffielders, going about their daily business, I noticed this lonely-looking, lost, befuddled young lady I can presume was in her early twenties. I am, of course, assuming this lonely- looking, lost, befuddled young lady was in fact a lonely-looking, lost, befuddled young lady, as she was the only one, during my entire journey from Leeds, train journey, walk from the station in Sheffield (about a mile and a bit) to downtown city who wasn’t fiddling with her damn phone! When I was a young lad, back in 1847, we actually spoke to each other on the bus. We read books. Looked at newspapers. We didn’t bugger around with phones all day long. But I suppose I’d better grin and bear it. Until the next fad, we are stuck with a nation of YMM’s (young mobi- morons). Interesting fact, nevertheless, that the top selling mobile phone in the Middle East is one that simply makes and receives calls - no internet, no pictures, no music, no dishwashers, showers, confectionery shops. Just a simple make and receive calls affair!
Dial M for a mobile I can actually work Extract from The Sunday Times Jeremy Clarkson column 16 September 2007 (3 days after my blog) There are a great many mobile telephones on the market these days. All are made by companies with preposterous mission statements, all have idiotic names and all are full of ridiculous features that you neither need nor want. So where do you go for some no nonsense advice? The page always starts with one post that says the product is excellent value for money, well designed and sold as standard with a battery that lasts for a thousand years. This, you know, has come from the marketing department of the manufacturer in question. So you skip it and get to the meat. As a general rule each phone has about 1m reviews, all of which fall into two distinct camps. When presented with the opportunity to be a reviewer, people think they have to either gush or damn. Hand them a choice of giving a rating of anything from one to 10 and all you get are ones and 10s. Six, in the world of amateur reviewing, does not exist. What I want is a mobile phone with a battery that lasts for more than six seconds. This means no colour screen. A colour screen uses more electricity than the Pentagon. I do not want it to take photographs. I do not want it to play music. I do not want to receive e-mails. I want it to be a telephone.   No such device is offered. Can you believe that? Seriously. Not one single mobile phone company in this vast and glorious world is offering a phone that is just that. A phone. A device that enables you to speak with someone a long way away. My previous telephone was made by Motorola mission statement – Web. E-mail. Music. Blade thin. Experience it – along with a picture of a stupid-looking black man. It was called a Razr (not so much a name as a spelling mistake) and it was great if you wanted to download pornographic images from cyberspace into your pocket. But unfortunately if you tried to make a telephone call it would let you say “Hello” and then the battery would be exhausted.   My wife suggested I buy a RaspBerry, but I dislike these phones with the passion I normally reserve for ramblers and John Prescott. This is because people who have RaspBerries do nothing all day but fiddle with them. Since my wife got hers all she has said to anyone is “Mmm?” It’s ridiculous. They’re making phones only for 12-year-old girls who want something cool, or businessmen who want something enormous so they look impressive in departure lounges. There’s nothing for normal people. Nothing with a screen you can read. Nothing for people whose fingers are finger-sized. And nothing for people who don’t do e-speak.
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