An Open Letter to Superman...

Dear Superman…

I imagine you are very busy right now – saving the world from mega-lo-maniac mercenaries, re-tweeting Batman's silly Pug photos, and fending off all those secret homosexual Chinese whispers at the Daily Planet. But as there are only so many times you can banish Lex Luthor then pork Lois Lane - before it grows as stale as a party at the Thing's house, I was thinking you may be in need of some mental refreshment. Therefore I was hoping you could submit to a fan request, and find it in your heart to engage in a small collection of new activities; to keep you amused and me satisfied, and lift you up during your downtime...

1. Move the British Isles south 800 miles.

England, Scotland, Wales and both chunks of Ireland are loaded with weird and wonderful souls, and can lay claim to producing some of the finest critical and philosophical thinking in modern history. However, our weather is eternally shit, and instead of having to travel 3 hours on a plane to the Mediterranean - or 26 hours on a Megabus, how about you use those mighty Superarms to push our island downward; somewhere to the left of Portugal and Morocco. I know this may slowly destroy the timeless art born from frustrations of consistently inconsistent skies, but it would be worth this loss, in order to be able to sit in my garden at 2.00am in nothing but my underpants, while downing a San Miguel beer. On another note, moving Guernsey and other minor principalities are optional, while if at any time you feel the need to dump The Proclaimers and Jim Davidson in France, please do so.

2. Compete in at least one Summer Olympics.

Okay, I will have to accept should this happen, you will represent the USA - your adopted parents were American, after all. But how awesome would it be to see Superman single-handedly win over 100 gold medals in a host of far ranging fields. You could win the 100 meters in 0.01 seconds, clean and jerk Mars, and long-jump around the world thirty times before landing; though how this is measured, I have no idea. The games would be renamed the Superman Olympics, and eventually change the IOC laws on non-Earth born participants taking part; until a liberal rebel party claim discrimination against aliens an amoral form of universalism. The other downside is the public would hate you for ruining every future Oympic World Record chase - as the banner of WR: Superman, endlessly pops up. Still - for that solitary summer of Superman, it would be friggin awesome viewing!

3. Act in a professional porn shoot.

This could go either way, and may scar me for life, or provide some of the biggest laughs since discovering the genius of Ricky Gervais. But seeing Superman do the business with his super-penis and never-ending skill-set, is certainly an odd curiosity. My only worry is this movie - especially if directed by Ron Jeremy, proves so successful, other Superheroes such as The Thing, Incredible Hulk and Toxic Avenger decide to indulge in their own works of "art." On second thoughts you can skip this one, as it may provide Batman and Robin some refreshing ideas; while dressed in leather and surrounded by 'toys', alone in their secret cave nobody but them and a pensioner in a suit are allowed to visit.

4. Disable all technology for five days.

Okay, doing this would piss the world off royally - and confuse anyone under the age of twenty who believes Facebook was a creation of Jesus, but it would also take us back to an age before self-obsession reached scary new heights, and being alone never really meant being alone. You might have to remind us this is only temporary, otherwise within two days we will be feeding on one another, then psychologically breaking down at not having a social media to tell the world we just did. On the plus side, you could update your Twitter feed - the only one of Earth in use at the time - besides Batman and his silly Pugs, with a photo of Trollface below the words, "Just pwned the entire planet Earth, That'll show them for all those Chinese whispers, lolz!

5. Record a collaboration of  David Bowie's 'Heroes' with your superhero mates.

Imagine Live Aid's "Do They Know it's Christmas?", with Bono, Bob Geldof and company replaced by Batman, Iron Man, Spiderman, the Silver Surfer, and Storm - for reasons of racial and sexual equality, and singing this classic track arm-in-arm in a large harmonious choir. This song has Christmas number one written all over it, and could even lead to your own solo album of Sinatra covers "Superman: On The Rocks.", followed by a global stadium tour; supported by The Flash and his awesome rendition of 'Fastlove', and the Proclaimers - who became huge in France - for no apparent reason.

And there you go. If you could complete even one of these tasks, I would sleep a happy camper. You can say no, but lets face it, Superman - saving the world has to get boring eventually. And it's not like you have a wife or any children...

The First Draft is the Deepest

I’m going to write this in a different style than usual. This first edit will be the final edit... 

Whenever you read an article – a competent article at least, they are usually the result of a first draft formed in a flash, followed by a series of read-throughs and changes designed to sharpen the piece; much like a sculptor forms ice-blocks into finely formed physical beings – careful and considered. Construction is 90% of the work, and where the incredible amount of effort makes it appear so effortless, as it were. 

The point behind this is to show an example of how the human mind actually operates – instead of the distorted idea which has been presented to us over the past century; in conventional art, literature and general entertainment. My plan at the first word was to dictate an article on the thoughts currently running through my mind, during this greying period of readjusting to reality in the cloudy suppressed sadness of England; after a holiday in the beautiful liberated terrain of Mediterranean Barcelona. 

There are a multitude of ideas to choose from: the brutal 26-hour coach journey home, the Castadefell beach beauty, the ugly illusion of La Ramblas, the literal dizzying heights of the Nou Camp football stadium, and why Chocolate Negro Filipino biscuits remain so popular in Catalonia. But my mind lack focus right now, and nothing seems able to produce anything; and I would rather write nothing, then force an article which says less than nothing. 

I am sitting in a Starbucks in my local town of Edgware, North-West London. It is a place I know well. Here I wrote and edited the majority of my first book, "Our Human Labyrinth", as well as countless scripts and articles, and met people I will never forget - as much as those I have no desire to remember. The words do not flow, and this feel like nonsense, but again this is a reflection of the human mind. Don’t we all spend our days walking around carrying stacks of pointless, random ideas inside of ourselves; sweeping the majority under the metaphorical rugs of our private feelings, in favour of the necessary logic required to survive another day?  

When a friend of mine inevitably walks into this building, I will act in a play with myself as the director – just as they may do too. We will communicate as if our thoughts are centred, controlled, and flowing like a stream of fine divine Merlot on an Italian stream – when in reality, they are only rocks floating around in some polluted pond, in the heartland of a decaying Merseyside river. We will promote ourselves as the paintings, when we are really brushes of a much wider canvas.

I will pull out my sword of a well-developed sense of humour, as a defence mechanism against a deep-rooted sadness to the bitter-sweet nature in which I see existence, feel uprooted from the connection, and leave wondering if this level of self-thought is actually worth the hassle, as well as being somewhat selfish; especially when true happiness and centre of mind tends to arrive in the giving, and not the taking back. I shall wonder why I am still immature enough to waste time thinking, when aware actions make life happen – whereas thoughts are just that, random ideas which pop into our heads, for reasons which - much like this article, is likely to make far from perfect sense.  

We are complicated beings. Our minds are never fully at peace with our heart and soul, and the never-ending list of possibilities, questions and feeling of judgements upon the decisions we choose or ignore weigh heavily upon us - not matter how openly we pretend they do not, or hold them back with our own strengths of character. But this is okay. Not really knowing and never being certain is what makes us human. And sometimes, writing an article without edit, may help a random reader; who feels alone because their minds wander around like a child’s eyes in a Toys ‘R’ Us, not feel so alone.

Or maybe I just want confirmation I am not alone myself. Who knows for sure. Our minds are not always articles to read with clarity, and every first draft is a reality we cannot edit. It all feels so bitter-sweet...

I Would Love to Live in a World Where...

• Spiritual evolution carries zero fear of societal ostracisation.

• Elvis Presley never left the building. 

• Rod Stewart never entered the building.

• The human mind peaks two decades before the body which carries it, instead of the other way around.

• All news outlets are replaced with Andy Capp comics and re-runs of Knight Rider.

• World leaders have to address their nations in costumes of well-known fictional characters.

• Greed is punished with public shootings by water cannons, which are awarded to the kind.

• David Cameron lives in a garbage bin, owned by the local street cleaners.

• Castles and mansions are reserved for the homing of stray cats and abandoned dogs.

• Robert De-Niro still plays psychos and predators.

• It is illegal to remake movies like Psycho and Predator.

• It is legal to slap people who talk in cinemas in the face with a rubber chicken.

• The Internet carries a vocabulary limit of at least 5,000 known words per user.

• Geography is replaced in the curriculum with viewings and studies, on the social implications of 1980's comedies.

• Religious hymns are replaced with Beatles songs in school assembly each morning.  

• Every second spent on serving religion, infomercials, celebrity gossip, MacDonalds, X-Factor and toupees, is used to create giant canvas pieces of living human art instead.

• Internet trolls find right-hand relief as emotionally satisfying as an actual sex-life; destroying the need for more trolling.

• Prayer is unnecessary and pointless.

• Wars are fought via tournaments of, twister, Buckaroo and Rock-Paper-Scissors at national stadiums, with tickets given to anyone in social housing via postal lottery.  

• Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny and Professional Wrestling are real.

• Uri Gellar can genuinely bend spoons.

• Bananas actually wear pyjamas. 

• Adolf Hitler’s parents wore condoms.

• More lists like these are written.

What would you love to see in this world? Answers in the comment section below...