ADDING INSULT TO INJURY

I went to a barbershop in Dunfermline on Saturday to get my hair cut. I say barber but it calls itself a “salon”. Anyway, I digress. The establishment concerned advertises Gent’s Cuts from £7. I was charged £4! Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

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I still haven’t received any feedback from the BBC regarding an interview I had with them on 24 July. They wrote to me on 29 July informing me that I’d been unsuccessful and I could have feedback if I wanted. I said that, “feedback would be gratefully appreciated”. Two days later my request for feedback was acknowledged and I was told that it would be passed to the recruitment Consultant handling the vacancy.

Two week later, on 13 August, I e-mailed the BBC again and said, “Do you have any indication as to when I’ll receive my feedback? I had hoped to get it while the interview was still fresh in my mind. It’s now almost three weeks since the interview.” Unbelievably I got this response, “Unfortunately it does not look like your feedback had been logged when you first sent it, your request will be forwarded to the reqruitment (sic) consultant for this post immediately (sic).”

It has now been over a week since that e-mail and I’ve still heard nothing. The disappointment of not getting a job I believe I was ideally suited for was bad enough without salt being rubbed, nay trampled, into the wounds. I really feel like giving up on any hopes of getting a job in a creative environment. I’ll continue in a role that bores me to tears, fails to fulfil me in any way and sucks the very life from me. It’s only the hospital radio that keeps me going, which I don’t get paid for. I’ve stopped doing competitions and crosswords to save money on stamps, I’ve stopped making contributions to The Scotsman’s Recommends section because I’m so demotivated and the last quiz night I ran was so flat in atmosphere and beset by technical problems that it may well be my last. I’m destined to spend the rest of my life shouting at the television and starting books I’ll never finish.

I am feeling very sorry for myself just now but I don’t know how many more kicks in the teeth I can take. My last three job interviews have, in different ways, been tough on me. How many more times will I have to drag myself back up before it becomes pointless?

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I’m still having discussions with Life Property Management (LPM) about their continuing charge-for-whatever-we-can-away-with philosophy. Their latest example of daylight robbery was to charge residents for gritting of roads that was neither requested nor needed. I say have “discussions” because LPM has said they will no longer discuss the issue of road gritting with me! They also threatened me with court action if I didn’t pay my latest invoice, even though I was still contesting the road gritting element of it. LPM stands for Licence to Print Money – how apt. At least Dick Turpin wore a mask.

If you are moving to a new home, check who does the factoring. If it’s the local council then fine, if it’s a company like LPM or Greenbelt then find out as much as you can about the exact extent of prospective charges. You’ll save yourself a lot of hassle and money in the long run.

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FRANK SATAN AND HIS HUSBANDS (Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh Friday 22 August)

What can you say about Britain's, nay, Greenock's finest crooner, that hasn't already been written? This man has done more damage to livers, especially his own, and hearts and minds that any entertainer alive or dead. Part dealer (cards, that is), part ranconteur, part showman, part vox humanist, Frank, accompanied by whichever Husbands happened to be available, take us through his life via live performance, audio interview and a taped duet with Edinburgh's legendary Andy Chung.

As well as covers of tracks by Hank Williams and Sugababes, he and his menfolk perform original cuts such as "Grandad's Going Down the Warehouse", "Full Blown Alcoholic" (autobiographical I believe) and my favourite "Who's Gonna Bury The Undertaker?"

Expect to see Frank on the soup-in-a-basket circuit any day now, if the Vegas doesn't get him first. Rumours that Frank is to open up a franchise of the Chicken Ranch in the Inverclyde area are unconfirmed at this time. Frank Satan will be performing in an area near you very soon - just lock up your daughters, your pets and your drinks cabinet. God bless you Frank.