Pickerpedia: The Life and Times of Alex Picker

25 THINGS ABOUT ME

This one is doing the rounds on Facebook... you know how it goes - write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. So here goes... 

1. I have lived at 8 different addresses in my life, including 3 in the last year. 

2. I have a 100% success rate of picking the Grand National winner (1 out of 1 attempt is pretty damn good, I think!). 

3. Despite livng with a German, my grasp of the language is abysmal although I do know how to ask for directions to the station - praise be to Mr Whitehead! 

4. I have run a marathon. I will never do another one! 

5. I love and miss Oxford. 

6. I have very poor hand-to-eye co-ordination. 

7. I do not like nightclubs. 

8. I am told I do a good Brummie accent. 

9. I believe in 'what goes around, comes around'. 

10. I would like to run my own bookshop and publishing house one day. 

11. The funniest name I have ever heard is Larry Bumgardener. 

12. My current relationship is (I believe) my longest. 

13. I prefer fact to fiction. 

14. I am rubbish at replying to text messages. 

15. I still have a profile on Sarah Beeny's 'Mysinglefriend.com' dating website. I should probably remove that at some point. 

16. I went to watch both Forest and County at the old Wembley in my first full season as a football fan. 

17. I attract my fair share of weirdos. Not that I claim to be that normal. 

18. I am easily distracted. 

19. I have never owned a credit card. 

20. I would be interested in studying psychology in the future. 

21. I have stared death in the face three times. 

22. I rarely spend vast sums of money on clothes. 

23. I haven't downloaded any new music onto my ipod in over a year. 

24. I have kissed two men. Not at the same time. 

25. I do love a good quiz.

FROST/NIXON

 

I went to go and watch Frost/Nixon tonight and must admit it gave me an odd sensation of feeling quite sympathetic towards Tricky Dicky - maybe it was just Frank Langella's stunning portrayal of the disgraced former President that made me feel a bit sorry for Nixon. David Frost (portrayed by Michael Sheen) comes across as a fairly loveable, if not emotionally flawed character determined to get a confession out of his subject over the hours of filming. 

Nixon pummels Frost in the first few on-screen encounters (much to the growing disgust of his die-hard anti-Nixon research team) and it is not until the last interview when even to Frost's own amazement he manages to extract an apology from Nixon (although you sense that Nixon was not backed into a corner and was completely aware of what he was saying and deliberately did it so as to try and draw a line under 'Watergate' and try and preserve what little of his reputation that still existed). 

The film is very well shot and I would not be surprised if Langella wins the 'Best Actor' oscar in Hollywood next month.

FLIGHT OF FANCY

Yesterday was my 27th birthday and Karyn treated me to a flying lesson above the skies of Nottingham. Taking off in a Piper PA38 Tomhawk with my instructor, Chris. 

I enjoyed the experience immensely flying to Edwinstowe and back and was allowed to pilot the plane for a small period, as well. On the first occasion I was given the controls, I tried all directions and manoueveres in the order I had been showed them before branching out and trying to keep a course on my own. 

Thirty seconds later, Chris asked if he could take controls again. "Is everything okay?" I asked "Yep, it's fine but you were starting to nosedive!" The lesson was over before I knew it and whilst I did feel a little queasy by the time I landed, I was adamant that it would be something I wanted to do again. But I'm definitely having a proper meal beforehand next time. Two pieces of toast just doesn't do the job.

LOUIS ERIC DAVID DWIGHT

...was born at 6.25am Sydney time on Thursday 4th December weighing 3.6kg (7.9lbs). He measures 53cm. I am a very proud Uncle.

POLS APART

I have got more than used over the last year to Jenny's 'Germanisms', where she will either get a word hopelessly wrong, replace it with an even weirder word or just speak with such a strong Bavarian accent as to render her incoherent to your average Brit. I like to think I have grown accustomed to this by now though. However, I am less used to hearing Sylvia's (Jenny's Mum) who is over visiting at the moment. 

Sprawled out on the sofas with glasses of white wine and accompanied by an operatic backdrop they seemed the embodiment of chilled, which was why I found it surprising that her first question to me as I walked into the living room, in a very strong accent was:

"Alex, do you like Pol Pot?" 

 Convinced I'd heard her wrongly, I asked her to repeat herself. 

"Do I like Pol Pot?" I asked seeking clarification. 

 "Yes, do you like Pol Pot?" she confirmed. 

I wasn't quite sure what to say or in fact where this was leading. Whilst there are times when we all seek to be non-conformist to make a point, there are few people who when posed a similar question would come down on the side of supporting the actions of a man who killed hundreds of thousands of his own countrymen out of pure stubbornness. I gave the only answer it is reasonable to give in polite society: 

"Not really no. He was a bit of a bastard, wasn't he?" I said expecting instant agreement from all concerned. 

Sylvia looked perplexed and not just because I was talking in the past tense. "Why was he a bastard?" 

"Because he killed hundreds of thousands of his fellow Cambodians - for no good reason!" 

"What are you talking about - Cambodians?" 

I looked to Jenny for assistance. Clearly her mother was deranged. No support was forthcoming. 

"Yeah, Pol Pot - he was a dictator in Cambodia in the 1970s"

"But he would not have been old enough in the 70s" replied Sylvia. 

At this point, a light went off in Jenny's head and she came to my rescue. "I think there's been some confusion here - Alex - look at the CD on the floor." There next to the Xbox was a CD cover with the artist's name in big letters: 'Paul Potts'. 

Apparently he was the opera singing chap who won 'Britain's Got Talent' before that daft lad that dances in the rain (whose meteoric rise has known no limits since he scooped top prize) and I am told he is hugely popular in Germany (Potts that is, not the break-dancing Billy Elliott). 

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, although Sylvia still didn't believe that somebody called Pol Pot had been a dictator in the 1970s or any other decade for that matter. Praise the Lord that Wikipedia exists in German, as well.

NOT SO BOXING CLEVER

I must be getting old. Last night, I went round to our friend's house and proceeded to have a marathon console workout. My evening had started as more of a spectator, watching Richard and Dan rattle off a whole series of tunes on Guitar Hero 3 (Richard is by far the superior of the two but his ability did lead me to question whether he actually ever left his house). 

Having tried to teach me guitar at the age of seventeen and quitting after 15 minutes, Richard knew pretty much what to expect when he handed me the plastic six-string required to emulate Eric Clapton with Cream's 'Sunshine of Your Love'. There was much relief when after 4 aborted attempts and a top completion rate of 17% that I handed it back to somebody with a modicum of ability - or Dan as he's otherwise known. 

Then we turned our attention to the Wii. The likes of bowling, golf and even tennis are relatively easy on the body's stress system and I had played them all at least once before. However, boxing was a totally foreign concept (at least in this form anyway) and from the outset I went hell for leather, beating the hell out of fresh air with a medley of right hooks and left jabs. After one round, my shirt had to come off - I was dripping. Despite my bulldog antics, I only won one of my three matches and resembled the appearance of an Irish gypsy fighter by the end of proceedings - half-naked, my jeans stuck to my body and pumped full of adrenaline. I was shattered. 

According to Richard, I was genuinely scary. I didn't believe him. Having reduced Richard and Dan to stitches, I gracefully retired to the bathroom to cool off. Today, my arms and shoulders feel like they've been stretched by a rope attached to a herd of stampeding bison - lifting a glass has felt like something that should require sponsorship. Who said nights in were relaxing?

O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU?

Whilst unpacking the last of my belongings at my new bachelor pad on Monday night, I received a text from Matt:

"Al, are you at the Leeds match? I'm sure I just saw you on TV!"

Not wanting to lose my momentum in putting my flatpack bookshelf together, I proceeded to forget all about it until yesterday afternoon when Matt sent me a picture of what he had meant (see above just behind the dugout).

It would seem I have a doppelganger and a half - a long lost brother, no less! There's definitely a bit of Peter Beardsley's chin in there, as well!

Frightening to think there could be two of us, isn't it?

I ' M NOT DESPERATE, BUT....

Until recently, I was under the false impression that Sarah Beeny was merely that bossy blonde woman off the telly who seemed to be pregnant with a new offspring every time she graces our screens! That is until today - when my friend, Sarah, emailed me to say she had set me up a profile on Mysinglefriend.com - Beeny's digital dating behemoth which gives unbridled power to your friends to sell your personality to those who might find you their ideal physical specimen. 

When she first suggested the idea, I was full of scepticism but said if she was serious she should put something down on paper. Today, she emailed me her effort and it genuinely brought a lump to my throat: 

Have you found your match with our catch?! Pack your Tena Ladies girls! Alex is without doubt one of the funniest guys I know. His wit is razor sharp, quick, satirical and totally non-PC (but never derogatory or malicious). If humour were reflected in the number of names on your Christmas card list or in your phone book, this guy would win gold, and rightly so. 

His friendship is warm and genuine to all and there is nothing you can't do with or say to this guy, be it making angels on the local chav-infested recreational ground boozed up in the early hours "because that's what friends do" or having a bad day on his shoulder. 

There is always a punchy anecdote to go with your drink and knowing Alex, I bet they're all true! Alex has an incredible sense of adventure, and it is rare to find an empty slot in his diary when he's not bungee jumping or planning his next worldwide travels (or, of course, amusing his friends in the local after a hard day's work). If you want fun, the search stops here. 

There is never a dull moment when Alex is about! The reason I've put Alex on here is simple: he has had a bad flush of attracting clingy women (and the worst part is this is without trying - imagine what would have happened if he had gotten his flirt on!!). He is young, dynamic and funny as hell, which is quite the combination, and his taste for adventure and active social life do not bode well with this type of woman. I've set myself the challenge of finding someone who is of the same mindset as Alex - there has got to be someone out there! 

If you're sporty, adventurous and don't mind spending time with someone funnier and more popular than yourself, I think we're onto a winner... PS Distance is not an issue as Alex is rarely in the same patch of the country for more than a few weeks in any one stretch, but instead causes mischief and mayhem elsewhere. Should this be in your town?! PPS If you suffer from urinary incontinence or any form of bladder weakness it's probably not in your interests to get in touch ;) 

Now, chances are it will come to nothing but I have decided to take a chance and see where Sarah's optimistic rhetoric takes me. Saying that, I think Sarah may have oversold me a little but clearly she knows best! I don't have much to add, except to say that if you're an ex and you're reading this, Sarah's 'clingy' reference did not apply to you. It was all the others....

' MACHINE GUN TURRETS ON THE WALLS '

My parents have gone off to Portugal on a week's holiday today. It is exactly a year ago this week that they went off on the same excursion and came home to witness the above destruction.

It appeared at first that whichever parasites were responsible had come in through the roof by removing slates and lowering themselves into the loft. From here, it seemed that they had got into the bedroom by smashing their way down through the ceiling into firstly my Mum and Dad's room, followed by mine and my sister's old rooms, where there still remained many relics of our youth and more recent acquisitions.

This is where it gets weird. Whilst all three bedrooms had colossal structural damage in terms of the holes in the ceiling (which look as if the SAS have popped in to end a siege - see above), they actually took very little, if anything (in my room, the only visible item missing was an old Swatch watch that I'd not worn in over ten years anyway).

In Mum and Dad's room, there was jewellery scattered all over the place (including out on the roof itself - with yours truly being duly dispactched the same windswept evening to recover them) but it is difficult to see what the actual motive was? All they seemed to take were some of Mum's lounging tracksuits.

Anyway, my Dad's instinctive reaction was that of irrational over-reaction - stating that never again would the house be left empty whilst they are on holiday. When I enquired whether that meant he wanted me to assume a position of virtual house arrest, he started back-tracking.

As I left that night, I suggested that he might want to increase the number of motion sensors around the house that would have triggered the alarm. His reply was unequivocal:

"Bollocks to alarms... I'm getting machine-gun turrets installed in the walls!"

Let's see what happens this week...

VELVET SKY (PIGS MIGHT FLY!)

In my time at Trent Bridge, I've had many strange letters and requests forwarded my way but none so stranger than a letter I received this morning. It read as follows (you tell me it's not a wind-up):

Dear Alex

I am writing on behalf of the band I manage - Velvet Sky - to ask if you might be keen to assist with the front cover art for the band's first album, due for release in August of this year.

Velvet Sky are a Nottingham band comprised of four local boys who have recently signed to Heavenly Records with myself (also a local boy!) remaining as their manager.

The album is to be called Neural Pathways and deals with such themes as the necessary death of celebrity culture. We would like to shoot the album cover at Trent Bridge as it is a place of some significance for the lads.

For the shoot we would require the use of one full length wicket section as the concept is to have a still photo of an over in progress on the cover.

Four celebrities have already committed to the shoot. The photo would position Jodie Marsh at wicket-keeper, Abi Titmuss at first slip and Sonia form Eastenders at silly mid-off. Padded up and in bat would be Paul Danan.

The concept would dress all four in the clothes of people with real life, worthwhile jobs. Therefore Jodie Marsh would be a legal secretary, Abi Titmuss will be a firewoman, Sonia a QC. Paul Danan will be a brain surgeon.

We would be looking to shoot in March and would hope to time the weather so the cover could be shot under a doom laden sky. I look forward to your response and hope the proposal is agreeable.

Yours most sincerely

Roy Greavesly
(Band Manager)

Now, I must admit, it took me a few minutes to wipe away the tears from my eyes as I read this. It's a cracking piece of comedy letter-writing. If it's a set-up, then I'm very tempted to play along.... if it's genuine, I will do everything in my power to make sure it happens!