Happy World Tapir Day! with Drowzee

I love tapirs. A delightful forest ungulate from the darkest regions of South America (as well as Malaysia), they boast not only one of the strangest appearances of any mammal, but also the cutest babies in the animal kingdom. I mean seriously, check them out...

All four living species of tapir are classed as endangered, and as such, to raise awareness for this wonderfully unique creature, April 27th has been designated World Tapir Day. Given their large size, the tapir has few natural predators, save for jaguars and crocodiles. They are shy and peaceful creatures, happily living a semi-aquatic lifestyle away from the ever-expanding human population of South America. But of course, as is so often the case, the destruction of their natural habitat in order to make way for the needs of humanity has led to numbers declining dramatically over the last few decades. Indeed, it is estimated that there are now more tapirs in captivity across the globe than in their natural Amazonian homeland.

After a fabulous day today with my Brazilian friends, sampling some truly delightful Brazilian foods (the likes of which I have never tried before, and as such am rather impressed!), I figured it was only apt to muster up a little awareness of this delightful Brazilian beast that so rarely gets any press. 

Tapirs are magical; they're like some bizarre missing link between pigs and elephants and always make for one of my favourite exhibits at London Zoo (not solely due to their astonishingly enormous testicles! Seriously, they look like a pair of beachballs in a bin-liner!). They also exist in Japanese folklore as the dream-eating Baku (inspiring, no doubt, probably the most famous fictional tapir, Pokemon's Drowzee),  and are seen as peaceful spirits of the American forests.

So look out for these lovely beasts, and if you don't know what they are, read up on Wikipedia in order to discover your new favourite animal!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tapir

Happy World Tapir Day everyone!

Spooning with John Candy and Steve Martin

Whenever you start out in a new relationship, you will at some point (hopefully) reach the point where the age old question of "big spoon or little spoon?" will arise. Most men at this game-changing moment will give the answer that all women want to hear; big spoon. And dear lord do I love snuggles in bed.

But ladies, it's time you knew the truth; men hate spooning. Indeed we don't care whether we're the big spoon or the little spoon. We want to be that weird thing in the corner of the cutlery drawer that looks like a cross between a corkscrew and a cheese-grater that nobody ever touches.

Snuggling was created for watching movies, whether on the sofa or in bed, and indeed it's an entirely pleasant experience. In that case, yes, we'll happily take on the role of the larger piece of silverware. In that ten minutes that it takes you to fall asleep, we'll generally put up with the awkward "where should I put my arm"-ness that comes with being the big spoon, but after that, we'll roll over and take our solitary place at the edge of the drawer.

It's not that we don't want closeness. No, we love closeness, and when we're feeling blue, or have had a stressful day, there is nothing better than a jolly good cuddle before bed. 

Before being the optimum word. Relaxing time together is great, but it's simply a case of the need for a little alone time when we're dozing off. Getting comfortable in a bubble of your own duvet space as you drift away is the best few moments of the day. Having a face full of hair and a dead arm generally do not constitute as entirely comfy.

Seriously though; where does the arm go? Underneath your partner leads to circulation being cut off in a strangely painful and at the same time painless experience. Bent back on itself means you spend ages pretending to be comfortable before eventually giving up and sliding it under your partner, and resting your own head on it is just not convenient. All in all, the only person that this whole malarkey is pleasant for is you; the little spoon! Sure, it's lovely and comforting for you to fall asleep to, but for us it's simply an awkward waiting game that we endure because we care.

So don't have a go when we curl up in the corner of the bed before you fall asleep; for all the times we've held you 'till you've fallen asleep, there is a once in a blue moon when we're too tired to wait you out. Sometimes we just need to be comfortable too.

Destroying the Music Industry with Avril Lavigne

I've always had a soft spot for Avril Lavigne. From her first single Complicated, I was ever so slightly smitten by her angsty cute Canadian punkyness.

Over the years, that love has sat somewhere in the back of my being like a nostalgic reminder of the rebellious teenager hood that I never had but secretly always longed for. Her debut album, Let Go, remains to this day in my top ten list of albums that have influenced my upbringing, and her third single from said album, I'm With You is one of my all-time favourite ballads.

I have fond memories of drunken 2am dancings to the highly infectious Girlfriend during university, and of wondering whether or not to reprimand one of my tweenage students in Japan when they told me that What The Hell was their favourite song.

So, with everyone's favourite Sk8er girl having such a beloved place in my heart, I was horrified earlier today to hear her latest song, Hello Kitty...

"Oh," I thought, sipping a refreshing cup of tea as I did my daily YouTube tour "Avril has a new song! And it's inspired by that delightful Sanrio character that I certainly didn't get enough of in Japan! This should be a catchy little ditty!" 

Over the course of the next three minutes and nineteen seconds, my tea turned sour, my heart turned to stone and mountains crumbled to the sea as the fires of damnation began to lick the shores of the country.

In her latest single, Miss Lavigne has managed to do what I fondly call "The Harajuku Hollaback".

Remember when Gwen Stefani was in No Doubt and everybody loved her for being a cool punkyness chick in an awesome ska band? And then she went solo and everyone thought "ooh, this'll be good!"? And then it wasn't? And then it went from being utterly awful to a semi-racist cacophony of non-sensical lyrics and terrible outfits? Well yes, that actually happened.

But did the world learn? If Hello Kitty is anything to go by, then no. No it didn't. Terrible lyrics, a debatably condescendingly racist video, a godawful Skrillex haircut and Avril looking well past her prime all add up to the biggest crime against music since Rebecca Black realised what day of the week it was (happy Friday by the way everyone!). My faith is lost, and in shall be pushing Miss Lavigne from the pedestal upon which once I which kept her.

I'm sorry Avril, I'm no longer with you.

Bank Holiday Weekend with Russell Brand

Having spent pretty much all of my professional career (in the UK at least) a slave to the service industry, I have never seen the wondrous thing that is a four-day weekend. So used, am I, to working, as chefs, waiting staff, emergency service workers and other such labourers are so accostomed, when everyone else is enjoying themselves, that even a glimpse of sunlight was once a treasured gift. We work the weekends, the late nights, and most unsociably, the holidays. Whether it be Christmas, New Year or Easter, the call of the service industry is never-ending, so remember to tip well and forgive the occasionally disgruntled employee when you're out having a whale of a time.

This year, however, I have had the utmost joy of actually being able to spend a bank holiday weekend with my feet up. Four days without work (Friday and Monday being paid, of course, or else I would have clocked in and put my feet up in my classroom!) has allowed me for once to see how the other half live. It's also given me a ruddy well-earned break after the eventful and exhausting first month at my new place of employment.

A picnic on the beach, followed by the not-quite-amazing-but-certainly-better-than-the-first Amazing Spider-Man 2 on the gloriously sunny Good Friday, a day in the park on an equally fair-weathered Saturday, museums and ramen followed by movie night with good friends on a rainy Easter Sunday before finally getting all those menial weekendy things done today. Top it all off with a tummy filled with M&S Easter eggs, and we have a most joyous weekend indeed (I shall omit the fact that I've just sat through the rather terrible "Hop" on TV this evening!)

But as you sit back this evening, fully relaxed and raring to hit the office tomorrow morning for another four-day week, spare a momentary thought for those who have not had the same luck. The chefs that cooked your wonderful meals out this weekend, the disgruntled teens that served them. The shop staff that found you those last minute eggs at five thirty on Saturday. And most importantly the emergency services that have been overworked as a result of the tomfoolery of all-too-excited folks with weekends of alcoholic mischief. They're the ones that really deserved the break. 

As a kitchen veteran though I've ruddy well earned mine!

Living By The Sea with Dido

I've lived in a lot of places over the course of my twenty eight years on this Earth. Going through every house, flat and dingy hovel, the total comes to a rather impressive eighteen. I've lived in seven different cities in three different countries, but no meter where I am I always find myself longing for one thing; the sea.

There is something truly wonderful about living on the coast, and indeed most of my fondest memories (and albeit some pretty pants memories too) have taken place to the sound of waves crashing and gulls gulling. Barbecues and bonfires, numerous first kisses, hilarious drunken escapades, film making, song writing, it's all happened along the coasts of England, Wales and Japan.

I never feel more at peace than when wandering along the seafront, my nostrils filled with salty air and the maritime breeze billowing through my hair. It really is magical.

City life is great; sociable, musical and bustling with life, but I inevitably find myself succumbing to claustrophobia. Too many people, too much noise, and nowhere near enough manners. I genuinely can't deal with inner city life for any length of time; my recent adventure teaching in Leicester Square proved that to me. Sure, the job was great, and spending some quality time with old friends was a lovely respite. The stellar night out at a dingy Mexican club will also stick with me for years to come. But all in all I simply find the city far too constricting. I hate the crush of people, and as I grow older am finding it more and more difficult to stifle panic attacks during rush hour on the underground.

By the sea, however, I feel at home. The freshness of the air seems to make everyone's troubles dissipate, leaving a happier, friendlier populous with a genuinely more chilled outlook on life. Down here, we have the music, the theatre and the food, and you know what? It's half the price of Soho. 

So keep your tube, keep your double-deckers, and give me the beachy life. 'Cause you sure as heck can't go paddling in the Thames.

The Bucket List Part One with Rachel Green

I've already ranted at some length about how life in your twenty-somethings is nothing like TV would have us believe, but one of the scariest parts of living in the later years of twentydom is the knowledge that the dreaded beast that is your thirtieth birthday is creeping ever more quickly around the corner.

Along with the grey hairs and aches and pains in places that were formerly unknown to even exist, the daunting prospect of turning the big three-oh announces that we can no longer kid ourselves that we are not adults, and that we really should be concerning ourselves with grown-up things like mortgages and life insurance (two things I am dreading having to sort out at some point soon).

So, like many of my comrades in the war against youth, I have decided to begin the compilation of my first Bucket List; thirty things to do before I'm thirty. A last ditch attempt to prove that I can deal with being a grown up, and to do a few of those crazy things that I wish I had conquered many years ago. So here's part one; the first ten tasks I shall be challenging myself to accomplish over the course of the next twenty months.

1. Learn Spanish

Learning a new language always crops up somewhere on people's lists, but since I already speak enough foreign languages to impress at parties, I figured learning one that I could actually use to travel to some of the places I'd genuinely like to visit might actually be a bonus. I want to go to Peru some day before I croak, and Mexico has always been on my to see list, so why not try and conquer South American Spanish? I'm already speaking it at a Dora level, so time to take it further.

2. Feed a Manatee

Manatees are my favourite animal. Always have been. I remember Chris Packham telling me when I was about seven that they would have disappeared from the face of the earth by the time I was thirty, so I should probably get over to the Everglades at some point and give one a lettuce. 

3. Publish a Book or Record an Album

I've written books, and I've recorded some very rough copies of musical albums. Some day, I'd like to see one for sale somewhere. Preferably not in a bargain bin. Any success to come from either venture would be an added bonus.

4. Quit Smoking

I've tried on many occasions, and even succeeded for a full six months at one point. Eventually I'd like to kick this self-destructive habit altogether. Don't start kids; it's really not worth it.

5. Read the Quran

Along with all ex other major religious texts. The key to understanding any culture is to understand the religion upon which it is based. As a teacher of English to international students, I'm determined to broaden my knowledge of their beliefs, and as such their views on the world.

6. Pay Off All My Debts

An utterly mundane addition to the list, but at some point in my life, I'd like to see my bank account truly in the black. It's not likely to happen anytime soon, but to actually have some real savings at some point in the next two years would be phenomenal.

7. Stay a Night In a Haunted House

Or one of those über scary hospitals from the movies... I love horror films, and a good ghost movie always gives me the willies. I'd love to challenge myself to spend a night in one of those typically creepy locations and not burst into tears at some point.

8. Cycle Somewhere

I don't know where yet, but my perpetual laziness coupled with my fear of bicycles makes this one a real toughy for me. I know I'd be truly proud of myself if I could accomplish some relatively large distance powered by my own steam.

9. Watch Every Film in the IMDB Top 100

As much of a film buff as I am, I am ashamed to admit that having just double checked the list, I have only seen 46 of the top 100 films of all time. And some of the films are missed are downright embarrassing. I've never seen Shawshank, there I said it.

10. Visit New Orleans

I love jazz, I love Cajun food, I love the voodoo mythology, and if I could travel back to any time period, it'd be 1940s N'awlins. Unfortunately, time travel isn't possible (can of worms on that one), so I'd happily settle for a trip to the modern day city during Mardi Gras. Just so long as there's gumbo all round.

Stay tuned for the next ten coming soon, along with another of our favourite TV twenty-somethings...

Letting Go with Sven the Reindeer

I have somewhat of an obsession with Disney films. Having grown up in front of my television, with VHS copies of Alice in Wonderland and Basil the great Mouse a Detective, and one of my earliest memories being a trip to the cinema in 1990 to see The Little Mermaid in a Croydon cinema, back in the days when you still had an interval in the middle of the film so that the projectionist could change the reel and audience members could pig out on orange ice-lollies, it's no wonder I have such jaded expectancies of the world, wishing more than anything that we could at whim burst into joyous song with our anthropomorphic animal sidekicks and conquer the forces of evil with little more than a pure heart.

Unfortunately, the real world is not so forgiving, but hope can still be found in the annual release of a new Disney movie, an event that I rarely miss out upon (though I admit I have yet to see Wreck It Ralph, something I shall rectify later this week).

After its much publicised release and Oscar winning acclaim, this evening I have at last dipped my toe into the icy delight that is Disney's 52nd Animated Classic Frozen, a retelling of Hans Christian Anderson's The Snow Queen. Having already been voted the fourth greatest Disney film of all time (losing out only to The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin), I had very high hopes for this CGI spectacular.

Admittedly, I've been tentative about the computer animated revolution that has swept Disney studios. After the spectacular Princess and the Frog, I've been rallying for Disney to return to its 2D roots, but I must admit, Frozen does a fantastic job of capturing the heart of Disney in its animation whilst still appealing to the computer generated world. Each member of the ensemble cast feels like a traditional Disney character, and our two princesses Anna and Elsa will certainly sit upon the pantheon with Belle and Jasmine in years to come. Hero Kristoff has elements of the traditional Prince Charming merged with Tangled's Flynn, this creating one of the most believable romantic leads a Disney film has ever seen. Comedy comes in barrel-fills from Sven the reindeer (a delightful fellow indeed) and a talking snowman named Olaf, who unfortunately for me feels rather superfluous and pandering only to appease the younger audience members who may at times feel somewhat lost amidst the more adult themes that seep through this chilly tale.

Musically, as the entire world seems to be aware, Frozen shines through; aside from the Oscar winning "Let it Go", we have some very strong numbers ranging from self-consciously cheesy love songs to a lovely ditty about where snowmen go in the summer. 

Unfortunately, amidst the convoluted tale, something feels a little amiss. I can only put it down to the underdevelopment of the cast; sure they are well-voiced and beautifully animated, but what sets this behind the likes of Princess and the Frog and Beauty and the Beast is that aside from saving the town from eternal winter (admittedly a decent enough motivator), none of the characters have a personal motivation. So used are we to having each character with a back story and a reason for advancing the narrative that to me at least, the cast of Frozen seem a little, well, cold. The epitome of this (aside from the utterly pointless snowman) is Snow Queen Elsa's all too quick transition from outcast to semi-evil ice maiden; having been distraught over her exile, in less than the first verse of her all-too-famous song she embraces her re-kindled powers. It really feels like there's a scene missing here, and in so many other places in the film too.

That's not to say there isn't fun to be had, and the final "twist" on the search for true love is nice (although it does rather poke fun at every princess story before it). Overall, I wouldn't place it in my top ten, but with further watching and a little added nostalgia, it might just stand the test of time. certainly moreso than Disney's last snowy tale, Brother Bear... And the reindeer in this one is ten times more lovable.