RED 24 Management

Believe it or not…

Dave Baird | 27-01-12

Believe it or not I went to University. I learnt an awful lot of things, like…how to cook for myself. Well, mince is a very versatile substance. I learnt, very clearly and comprehensively, the licensing laws of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. And I learnt that there’s a direct correlation between how often you change your bedding and how often you get laid. (About twice a year is the, retrospectively appalling, answer!)

Unfortunately, what I singularly failed to learn was anything even remotely useful about my chosen specialist subject; the media (excluding, for some bizarre reason, the ability to count in binary).

This was the late 90’s; the Acorns and BBC micro’s from school had morphed into PC’s and Macs.

I had a university email address and a dial up connection so fast I could open a whole message in just under 10 minutes! (Text only of course. You wouldn’t send an image unless you had a week spare to open it).

As part of my course we had a module on html and how to build our own web sites. This was timed perfectly for our generation to be right there, ready willing and able to take advantage of the first dot com boom! If only I hadn’t been so diligent in my study of the licensing laws! Simply being told that the pubs open at 12 Midday and close at 11 at night wasn’t thorough enough for me. I had to experience it firsthand. Day after day after day after day.

In the blink of an eye 3 years had gone and with them my chance to be a computer whizz kid. But ask me what time the pubs open and close in Bradford…and to be honest I couldn’t tell you; licensing laws have changed quite significantly since then.

Why do I tell you this? Because here, now, today I am attempting to build a new web site to advertise and market myself as a professional voiceover and writer. My efforts will be visible to all at www.thebaird.com over the coming months. It may go well, it may go ill. I could increase business a hundredfold, I could accidentally bring down the whole world wide web leaving mankind in a second dark age. Who knows?

One thing’s for sure, with me on the job, it’s gonna be no fun whatsoever finding out! Still, feel free to pop by whenever you fancy and I’ll let you know when there’s something new worth looking at. Wish me luck!

 

 

Does it really matter?

Dave Baird | 23-01-12

When was the last time you saw a Hamster with bulging biceps? When was the last time you saw a horse with a six pack? Does your dog get up in the morning and do 20 abdominal crunches before breakfast? Does your local fox seek out only the choicest low fat macrobiotic morsels from the bins? Have you ever seen a cow look over its shoulder at a freshly laid pat and go “Hmm, think I need more fibre”? No? Then why are we so obsessed with it all?

Like most of you I began the year with renewed determination to get fit. Now, 3 weeks later, I’m bored of it. And I haven’t really done anything yet. I’ve actually become bored by the mere thought of being healthy. The prospect of doing exercise is seemingly so abhorrent to me that I would much rather simply sit and watch my arse steadily grow out around me. But does it really matter?

In the animal world having a decent layer of fat around you is not just desirable, but essential for survival. I’m not saying we should all strive to look like Michael Winner, but do we really have to kill ourselves trying to be like Busy Lizzie? (By the way, if you’re too young to remember Busy Lizzie you’re FAR too young to be worried about your weight).

Let us follow the example of our animal friends and just not worry about it so much. After all, the expression “Fit as a Butcher’s Dog” essentially means “Fit as something that eats a shed load of offal but rarely goes for a walk during business hours”. And I think that’s something we can all aspire to.

Mouth Watering Entertainment

Dave Baird | 16-01-12

I’m a big fan of football; love to watch it whenever I can. I saw some of the Rugby World Cup, The Ashes, Wimbledon, Red Bull’s stunning dominance of Formula One, all ruddy exciting in their own special way. But, when it comes to pure sporting drama, when you talk about tension, passion, edge of the seat, nerve jangling, mouth watering entertainment, nothing…and I mean absolutely NOTHING…even comes close to the Darts!

It astounds me that Darts is not a bigger sport. The BBC’s coverage of this year’s BDO world Finals has been more meagre than ever before, with live matches only being shown at the weekend…but what a weekend! Seriously, even if you’re thinking “Darts? Just a cheesy old pub game played by fat bastards and lung cancer victims” I defy you to watch the world final at the Lakeside Country club and not be screaming at the TV by the end of it.

The atmosphere is incredible, the passion and desire amazing and the skill on show is of a standard mere mortals can only ever dream of. You don’t even have to have a favourite player to support; the best thing about darts is that the balance of each match switches from one player to the other, and back again, not just set after set or leg after leg, but with each and every dart. In no other sport is the distance between success and failure so massive and yet so tiny. The highest score on the board (60) is separated from the lowest (1) by a wire less than 2mm thick.

This means you never know who’s going to win. Even if one player is miles in front, like Christian Kist was in last night’s final (he was leading 6-2), everything can change in the blink of an eye, like Tony O’Shea’s amazing fight back to 6-5 (before eventually losing 7-5).

I know it’s never going to be as big as the Premier League, it’s not going to get the coverage of the Ashes and broadcasters aren’t going to fight over the TV rights like they did with Formula One, but I implore you…next year make a date with the big lads at the Lakeside, it really is the sport of Kings!

Felled By Bacteria.

Dave Baird | 14-12-11

I’ve discovered something recently which, in retrospect, I should have noticed earlier. Being a voiceover is seriously bad for your health. Or rather, locking yourself in a cupboard detached from the outside world for 360 days a year is seriously bad for your health. Who’d have thunk it, eh?

It’s true though. But true in a way that will only make sense if you’ve ever read/heard/seen “The War of the Worlds”. For most of the last year I’ve barely met anyone new. To be honest I’ve barely met anyone old either, but certainly interaction with the general public has been kept to an absolute minimum. I even watched the Royal Wedding with the curtains drawn and the doors locked, just in case anyone got carried away and wanted to “Share a moment” with me.

However, for some reason, which I can only put down to cabin fever, stir craziness or what many people may refer to as “Life” I’ve actually ventured out of the house twice in the last 2 months to meet “New” people. Once at a weeklong writers residency with C-beebies (that I’ve blogged about before) and the second time at my girlfriend’s work Christmas party last week. And both times I’ve ended up feeling like absolute death!

In the manner of the Martians from H.G. Well’s classic (and yes it was a classic before Tom Cruise got hold of it) I, a seemingly strong healthy man, have been felled by those microscopic bastards we playfully call “germs”.

Oh, he’s got a cold, you might say, a touch of man flu, nothing that serious. Well, no. But that’s not the point is it? The point is I was absolutely fine until I went outside and met other people. Of course, you could argue that I used to be equally fine when I met different people all the time and therefore had an immune system strong enough to cope with “outsiders”…but that’s as maybe.

Still, on the upside at least I’m getting it out of the way before Christmas. Come the festive period itself I should be fit, healthy and ready to make the most of a traditional Baird family Christmas. Lock the doors, turn out the lights, move anything edible to within reaching distance and settle down to a whole week of complaining about how Christmas Telly just isn’t as good as it used to be…

Ah, bliss!