12 years today, on the 24th of February, in the year 2005 I was walking home from nightclub/disco with my girlfriend. It was a very cold night but I was 17 and in love so I didn’t care too much about that sort of thing back then. We sat in the park, on the swings, as adults do when it’s late at night and there are no kids or parents about. She asked me if I had a condom. A question I’d never be asked before.

Those of you know know me personally may well have heard the horror story that starts there - not unlike a Detective Fashion episode - it’s a story I call “The Copper Pipe Incident”. A tale I tell with graphic and horrific detail, a near tragedy that, as all with all good rites of passage stories has a moral about rushing into things and the perils of youthful recklessness.

It is of course a tale I won’t be sharing on here, out of respect foe the girl in question (now a mother…but not to me!).

Fast forward 6 years to the year 2001. Now a slightly less naive young man - a man in his early 20s who liked to think of himself as a man of experience. I’d loved, lost and fucked my way what I thought was adult life. Nevermore than 6 months of being single at a time I thought myself by no means a sexual predator - or even a partially good boyfriend but a worthwhile person none the less. I’d been in love 6 times - but I wasn’t this time round.

Under frighteningly similar circumstances, walking home with a girl - who actually looked like the girl from the first time round, we nipped into a graveyard of all places for a bit of discreet outdoor action. For that’s the sort of thing that grown adults do…right?

She was in reality a pretty horrible young woman and a few days later I told her I didn’t want to see her again. Maybe I felt as if she’d instigated some sort of dark parody of the copper pipe incident. Nevermind pulling her knickers down in a graveyard - she’d trampled on the scared ground of my own past! Maybe I was just worried that I might fall in love with a slag again (see above).

So I said goodbye to her and all that. Having had a messy break-up with a ‘proper’ girlfriend some months before (Who thankfully wasn’t a slag at all - but ended up a junkie) I put it down to some sort of rebound thing. The sort sort mistake that is perfectly acceptable, and it wrote the whole thing off as ‘The Incident with the Masonic Nurse (In the Graveyard)’.

But who was to know that that would be the last time I’d have sex. Well the last time for a very long time - 6 years and counting.

Every year on this day I celebrate, with a quiet drink, what I affectionally call my sex birthday. A memorable date by simple virtue of the fact I remembered it. I had no intention of wrapping the celebration up as an anniversary of my celibacy/sexual exile. For now that it’s six years it means I been without for as long as I ever was with.

And I wonder about the mathematics of it all. If this sort of thing carries on much long - can my sexual frustration get any worse? If it get to 7 years and the maths go out of sync does it mean I’ll be with some for 7 years after and then nothing again. Just fucked up comedic horror stories.

A good friend of mime asked me why I care. It’s just sex - surely all I want is love. Of course he’s right but I don’t know any dates of when I was in love or out of love. Sexual encounters are like road signs, London: 100 miles - but obviously only ones that you see in the rear view mirror. And I suppose that’s all I want, A road sign that indicates where I’m going - or how long it’ll be until I get there. Objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they seem - right?

In my 6 years of just wondering why - what happened to me? - I’ve had twice as many disappointments. Twelve girls - twelve bitches who in their various ways have wronged me. Assumedly because I wasn’t fucking good enough. 12 girls who one after the other I dreamt about, wondered about, gone out of my way to be be myself around - and quite frankly and quite unashamedly 12 girls who made me cry. (Only a couple of which I even got to kiss)

The maths are perfect now - x equal this - right now - the answer of course being zero - it nearly always is zero when it comes to x! - There is no more pain and no more love. Just nothing - zero.

So hopefully this time next year the 6 years would have been annulled. Maybe this time next year I will be in love. Maybe I will wake up on the 24th in bed that isn’t my own but is familiar, and I’ll smell her perfume and look at all the girl things in her room and I’ll turn round give her a hug and fall back to sleep with her next to me wondering how I managed without this for 6 whole years.

I’m not podcasting news or anything but I thought I’d put my journalism hat on for a moment to discuss an issue that is close to my heart.

Frank Edward Nora from the Overnightscape Podcast has decided to make the push into pay per download podcasting. His new Anything But Monday Show which he will co-host with Mad Mike Masters previewed in his latest Overnightscape posting as a free sample/transitional episode to encourage people to support his existing listeners with the new venture. He insisted the Overnightscape would continue though and it would remain free but may be shortened.

Despite others (including Ricky Gervais) failing to make a success out of similar business models, Frank sounded highly confident that his new show is what people are willing to pay for. He argued that timing was integral to success and discussed the shows origins on independent radio. Claiming that the show too radical back then he confidently stated that the time (and presumably the medium of podcasting) was right and after a successful run of almost 600 episodes of Overnightscape that his push towards premium content was inevitable.

I spoke to Neil Dixon, podcasting expert and former “glorious leader” of Britcaster. He was keen to discuss the perils of monetisation at the listeners expense.

“In a sea of free content, listeners have to be educated to appreciate the actual value of the paid-for content. Incentivisation is the key - give them something much more than what they are paying for, or at the very least make them think they have much more.”

Neil went on to stress the importance of “making it very VERY easy for them to pay and get the content.”

The staff of Spainful Films and conradslater.com would like to wish Frank and Mike the greatest success with their new show.

but…

(and this is wear I take my journalist hat off and slowly and mournfully shake my head for I know good many of you have stopped by reading now assuming this is just a press release by proxy)

I am very sorry to say I will neither be subscribing to the free preview or indeed paying for any podcast - ever.

So why write about it at all?

Whilst the recent Overnightscape was by no means a good example of what the Anything but Monday show will be, in terms of either content of style, some tell tale signs were evident. Based on this shows origins and the investment of professional audio equipment plus of course all this talk of monetisation it all adds up to one thing - a professional sounding radio show. And that is of course the last thing I want on my ipod; for it is that reason why I listen to podcasts and for that reason principally that I listen to the Overnightscape.

As someone who has come to learn how to listen to the Overnightscape and has really come to love the show I found myself harboring a quite natural sense of ownership, and therefore fear that it is going to be taken away from me. I have to admit I came away from listening to Overnightscape 579 angry and a little hurt. The introduction of Mike seemed to personify this threat. Dismissive of Frank’s commentary and at times shocked at mundaneness of it all, I felt my fury build within - wanting to shout “that’s the fucking point you moron!”

I was instead denied that usual 3+ plus hours Unlimited format, denied the sheer majesty of Franks relentless style and even denied the all the usual broken rules that I have come to love. From the rather eerie and uncanny music to Frank punctuating points but speaking far too close to the microphone as if bypassing my ears and speaking straight into my brain.

And then came the fucking crime of the century. One of those awful cliche´d sound boxes. In short, I have no doubt that the Anything but Monday will be more professional than the Overnightscape. It will probably sound much more like a professional radio show. And that’s what Frank wants - after almost 600 episode of Overnightscape who can blame him - I certainly wouldn’t want to begrudge him anything that would help towards his quest to be famous enough to unquestionably be written about on wikipedia.

But I do feel offended. I feel as if that the genius of Overnightscape was all in my head. That maybe is was the way it was because Frank was somehow unable to make it sound ‘professional’ and that really all he wanted was to make a 80s style morning radio show. That the only reason he was so relentlessly funny was because it was all an accidental and he in fact needed to be censored.

I feel like I’ve lost so many of my favourite podcasts of over the last few months, they’ve all faded away and that there wasn’t many more left left to loose. But instead of podfading this time we get to see the Overnightscape die, blow by blow - as long as we pay.

I’m not usually in the habit of posting other people’s vlog posting here but this is something that everyone who does either a podcast or a video podcast has to see.

Paul Knight, the PJK productions man, goes into full on rhino mode in his thinly disguised attack on some show called ansathat - I’d never heard of it but after watching this you’ll see why it got under his skin.

Making use of his usual sinister collection of alter egos he demonstrates and explains two systems of cheating the download stats. Clearly explained, funny - even parodying the apple Mac vs Pc adverts this short video is superb.

Please check it out and comment.

Posted here is a smaller, preview version - click on the link below to go directly to the original larger version.