Monday, 8 December 2014

Christmas 2014: Letter to Laura

Welcome back to the Randomizer!


It's that time of year again, and it's only a couple of weeks away! Doesn't time fly.

Some of you may be wondering what do I have in store for you all for the month, or least what was more likely to be last week. Unfortunately, I had brought a nice new laptop at the end of September, and it was all nice and shiny. Then of all things, it had decided to destroy itself from within with only a hint of possibility that my work on that will be saved. (Thanks Windows...you bastards. Beware the automatic repair loop everyone). However my old laptop is still functioning and able to hold on to the task at hand, so that's something. I'm very sorry I couldn't have completed this sooner to everyone. It sucks when people who really should know better when an update doesn't work, to TAKE IT OFF THE SYSTEM!!

I'm not going to go into backing up work, because I know where I stand. :P.

Anyway, back to this.

Some of you have been wondering what I have in store for you all. Well:


What do World War 1 and Christmas have in common? The Christmas Truce.

This is one of the most human and important events to have ever taken place during the course of the war. You would have to live under a rock if you had no idea what I was talking about, like Justin Bieber. What I have decided to do, in honor of what happened during Christmas in the Trenches, was to write a short story. I had done short stories on this blog, before I had turned it into 'The Randomizer', so this is kind of a homecoming thing, but World War I takes precedence above all else.

At first I wasn't sure whether I felt I was in the right place to do a Christmas Truce story. The task seemed difficult to approach with the right mindset, and if my own interest would wane on it. On completing it today, I am happy to say I don't regret it in the slightest. They are many stories that go around what happened over that period, some warm, some very cold, and hearing what people were doing at the time, it really does make you sit down, and think about how only a few days in the calender can change one's life for a day. I hope my story will do that for you.

There are pictures included that I do not own, coming from various sources including the recent Sainburys advert, the 2005 film Joyeux Noel, a painting from John Nash, and pictures taken from the time.

So I'm going to stop writing and allow you to read:

Letter to Laura

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My darling Laura

You will not believe the story I have to tell you this Christmas Day. You must not tell a living soul just yet. This letter will be taken by Jim when he is on leave and hidden away carefully so our superiors will not make amends, and so you may learn the truth. I dare say it might bring those delicate tears to your eyes once more when I last saw you in August, to fight the 'Hun'. I will apologise for any 'trench' humour that will be written. So much has happened, that it is the only way to keep our own spirits up.

At the beginning of December came a heavy snowfall to both sides. Everything turned to either frost or ice. Puddles, machine guns, even our own piss seemed to freeze up. But we're doing our best. Your knitted scarf and gloves has come in good use, though my face still takes the chill. The shakes can be terrible at times. Jim made a challenge to the Hun to shoot him, while he slid across the puddle strewn solid along our trench, and nearly broke his ankle as he slipped onto the floor. I have to boil the water so that the machine guns would keep firing. I forget how much I actually managed to draw up and pour on the guns, the tedious boredom of it all.

Our commanding officer, 'Lollypop' as we call him, was all too happy to keep ourselves in check for any fraternisation with the enemy. 'Any man caught in my division will be posted on stand to for a week' he said. Always patriotic, always wanting to be with the higher officers of HQ, even though rumours have it that he was originally a coal miner from Newcastle. We pretend not to hear anything. He once barked, teeth baring on all sides, at one poor boy, Henry Cannons, who had spared the life of a Hun and threaten to send him 'over the top' into No Man's Land, to see what they would do in kind. The boy kept a brave face of it all, having a private cry to himself in the shelter afterwards. He had never seen war before. The time may come fast for him, or someone else.

We were all cheered up greatly thanks to two gifts from the Royal Family. I was pleasantly surprised by the thought. King George and Queen Mary had first sent us a card, with the simple words: 'With our best wishes for Christmas 1914. May God protect you and bring you home safe. Mary R. George R'. A photo had accompanied it of the two, The King dressed in military uniform, The Queen in a splendid regal gown. I placed the photo into my jacket pocket, to make sure it would not be lost thanks to the bombardment, or my own forgetfulness.

The second gift was from Princess Mary, a gold gilded box. It was impressive, listing all our allies on the top in small gold writing, and with the image of the Princess herself in the centre. She looked radiant, yet simple in design. I opened it up with shaking hands, and gasped. My own pipe, with the added bonus of an ounce of tobacco to use inside. It felt so perfect to hold in the palm of my hand. I dare to think it even rivals your father's. I can't use it at night, in case the Hun can see the light bellowing from it. A dear shame, to only be for use on leave from the front.



There was a second card in the tin. It simply read: 'With best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Victorious New Year, from Princess Mary and friends at home'. I had chuckled at that. It reminded me of 'how the war will be over by Christmas'. 'Lollypop' had used that as well, adding: 'We'll be having our Christmas dinner in Berlin'. But we're not in Berlin, nor left the line. I wonder if possible to help him try and get to Berlin by pushing him over the top. We'd be happy enough to see him off, and give him a head start.

On the 23rd, it all happened. I had been standing to since dusk, to wait for any sign of attack from their position. I found myself shaking from the cold, so I placed my rifle on top of the parapet to balance it, but my finger was almost shaking hard on the trigger. I was afraid to shoot out into the dark and waste my shot, knowing as well 'Lollypop' would have had a field day with that. 'Can't aim for Blighty' I can hear him say, booming and rough. So I took deep breathes to try and cool my nerves as I looked for any movement.

To my surprise, lights began to appear on their position, raised up and placed just above their own parapet. I stared opened mouth, wondering what they were doing. Then I closed my mouth, partly to keep my lips from freezing, but also on realising: Christmas trees. They were better at upholding traditions than we were it seems. All along the line you could see how, as they placed more along their line, lit up they were. It broke the night before us, all flashing up the mud and steel hats that had merged together to create little mementos, the graves of those Hun and British alike.




'Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht' I froze as I heard the all too familiar tune, slowly calling from their trench. The cold air touched my lips as I opened my mouth once more, gazing out to their position. The call was deep, yet beautiful in harmony. I pressed my lips together again, not wishing to shake more so than I was , and allowed the sound to fill my body with a warming embrace. As they came to 'Sleep in heavenly peace', my voice found itself on the last verse, and sang quietly. I'm not sure why I had brought myself to do such a thing, but the moment seemed almost too perfect to not capture. It surprises me how Christmas could bring friend and foe together. Time of good will seemed stronger than what Lord Kitchener will tell you in his poster.

Then I heard Jim's booming voice behind, louder than I would ever muster, and possibly trying to challenge the Hun once more. Dennis Donaldson did so too, with John Sharpe and Henry coming out of their shelters, all bringing their voices to the table, joining in with our enemy hand in hand. 'Lollypop' too was broken by the Christmas spirit, to our great flinches in the trench. It was a most marvellous sight in the dimly lit frosted land. Nothing was going to stop us.

As Christmas Eve came, we could see the trees more easily in the grey strewn cloudy day. They were perfectly small sized and perfectly lined up, enough to cover our entire cottage with, let alone allow for one to be kept on a shelf. Perhaps we'd be able to sell them off and buy something proper for ourselves!

The Germans did not fire along our line for the whole day. I didn't blame them. This was the time of year. But of course, it didn't mean everywhere had halted. Along the line we heard of attacks coming from both sides, as the shells sounded little more than drums some miles away. We're not sure how many have been killed, but High Command is relentless for the push forwards to victory. Not even Christmas can break their spirits. I know their eyes lay further, desperate to have their Christmas dinner in Berlin, with dear little 'Lollypop' at their side.

Despite the distant drums, word had spread around our line that some were planning to hold a truce with the Germans over Christmas, with even a talk about football on No Man's Land. I was sceptical if this could happen to us, especially with those parts of the line still firing at each other. But I wasn't doubtful. In the midst of craters and bodies, it seemed perfectly reasonable to do so. I become more concerned with what kind of people would they be like. Perhaps generous, kind, understanding? Uncertainty ruffled my mind, wondering what could happen over the next day.

As night came again, we stood huddled with bully beef and tea warming our dear bellies, waiting to hear if they would begin to sing again among the shells, to fill our hearts with warmth. My hands shook hard as ever, hidden from view in my jacket side pockets, as the shells flew overhead and drummed in the distance. Soon we heard the tune to The First Noel, and joined in halfway through the first verse. Together it seemed as if we would merge to fill the space between trenches, our voices intertwined to bring peace finally in this hell-ridden earth. It was a humbling experience to have embraced. We continued on into the night, with The Holly and the Ivy and O Come All Ye Faithful thrown out between us, Jim pushing his voice to near breaking point. Dennis joked that we should all pretend to mouth the words while he continued.



As John saw his pocket watch finally strike midnight, we raised our voices in salutation to the Germans: Merry Christmas. They returned the reply almost immediately, and we got into a shouting match to see who would end the call first. One lone German shouted from his position, and claimed the victory. I turned back to my fellow men, and we all shook hands with each other, gripping them firmly as I breathed deeply to remain calm, politely giving our salutations to each other, keeping our eyes marked on each face. It was a wonder if it be the last time any of us would see each other in the coming year.

Today, this Christmas morning, the clouds remained overhead. We wondered at first if we would be beset with snow again. It would have been a beautiful view, if not for the small humps that would form on top of our men and friends. I was standing to once more, balancing rifle on top of parapet. I hadn't much in the way of sleep, due to the bombardment that continued for some time in the night. Whether any of the Germans were hit, I cannot say. But it saddened me too, that I would not hold you in my arms this day. Your warm embrace will always remain a constant in my mind, dear Laura. Sometimes thinking just isn't enough.

Something then popped over the top of their parapet, over the trees. One of them, dressed in a grey khaki trench coat, placing his hand over one of the trees, and holding a small white handkerchief. I held my rifle in place, keeping my fingers aloof from the trigger. 'English?' he cried out. I did not speak at first, though he didn't seem much of a threat. 'English?' he said again. I felt my chest tighten. It seemed silly to refuse to speak, after what happened. I called back with a yes. 'We...wish to...truce...' His English wasn't perfect, words slowly forming out like a child learning. There didn't seem much reason to refuse a truce, unless 'Lollypop' intervened.

Jim and the others came out of their shelters, the morning light blinding them somewhat. I explained what was going on, and 'Lollypop' thought it reasonable, to our surprise. He did suggest that a few   should go, in case it was a trick. 'We did bombard them over again last night. They might show us how it's done'. I stared at him. I understood what he meant, but it seemed unlikely that they would do anything.

I did consider it, though I did bite the inside of my mouth. If anything did happen, YOU are my reason. 'English? Are you there?' he called. I called back to say we were, with a lump in my throat. 'No one will shoot....I promise. Mein Kameraden ...we all...made that...decision'. I checked and he repeated. I turned to look at the others. All of them stood to, frozen to the ground. I looked down to my box, and shuddered. God knows I didn't want to, but who would? Anything to break this spell. I said to 'Lollypop' that I would go, rifle on my back, hands up. Jim said I would not be doing it alone, and offered to go with me. 'Lollypop' agreed with a nod.



I placed my rifle forward on top of the parapet and pushed myself onto the ground, grabbing the snow in my palms and crawled over the top. Slowly I lifted myself up, and brushed the snow from my trench coat. I quickly turned to Jim and helped him up, taking my rifle in the process, and turned back to see the German man some distance away. I swallowed, threw my rifle over my shoulder, and lifted my hands up slowly to either side of my head. I took another deep breath, and my boots began to crunch deep into the snow.

With every step I took, I could almost see your face before me, as my mouth opened slowly. Your  silky brushed brown hair soft to touch, wide childlike light brown eyes I could look at for the rest of my life, and the thin lips that always elated us to heaven and back. I could feel my chest almost sink inside. Every step seemed agonising. But I would not turn back. To trust this man's word was heart-aching in its own right, yet just for one day from the stench of death, meant we could all enjoy respectful solitude.

As we came closer together, I could see his face more clearly. His hair dirty blonde, untangled and curly, like it had been unwashed for quite some time. His green eyes blinked almost constantly, made me curious to wonder if he was  afraid as me. It was understandable, though one slight was growing noticeable: The land was silent. Slowly, I lowered my hands down, the snow still breaking underneath my feet, pushing ourselves a little more forward towards this man. A moment passed, and we stood together face to face.

It was strange to be in the presence of this man,  living only some yards away from us. I had never met a live German properly until this day,  standing exactly opposite him with Jim standing by. I sighed a breath of relief from the silence, and extended my right hand to him, trying to keep it steady. He looked at me for a moment, gazing into my own eyes. I pushed my hand up a little further in an effort to shake his fear. Slowly, very slowly, he took the handkerchief in his left hand, and opened up his right. I moved my hand slightly towards his and he did the same, both of us unnerved at the spectacle of no fired shots. Closer and closer, and my chest immediately lightened as we gripped each other gently.

'Merry Christmas' I said with a smile. 'Frohe Weinachten' he replied in a young voice, his own smile broadening over his face, 'Merry Christmas...in your...English.' I bowed my head on understanding. As we parted hands, he continued. 'Will you...agree to truce today?...' I said the men would like that , and suggested we'll bury the dead laid over No Man's Land, to give them their final rest. He immediately nodded, and promised that no shot would be fired by his friends and men under his command, as agreed with other front line officers with him. I respected his terms, as I hoped to assure the other officers in climbing out of their trenches to meet them. I asked him his name. 'Kaleb' he said, 'Captain Kaleb Clauberg'. It was a vicious name for a soft spoken man, rolling almost perfectly off the tongue.

After I had introduced myself, I turn to call the others to join me, only to find they had already come out of the trenches, and walking towards us more quickly than I did. I nodded to them, guessing their courage had returned quickly, and rather conveniently. Nonetheless I smiled to them, and the others  immediately came up and begged my forgiveness. I took them by the shoulders, and simply nodded my head. There was no need to beg today, of all days. I patted them gently on the shoulder, and told them I forgive them for their discretion.



As we all gathered together, we chatted cheerfully amongst ourselves . Kaleb came from Munich, though he was more happy to be here than there. At least there was some food he said, to which I could only grimace at. He also had a sweetheart, called Beatrix, living in Rothenberg, and he would immediately go there once he was on leave at New Year's. They had met while she was in Munich for a holiday, and they kept in contact through long-distance letters. He showed me her photograph that he had buried deep in his trench-coat, and I remember her very long feature, with bright eyes that could always bring a smile to faces. His incandescence of her felt like a reflection, and I told him I hoped he would continue treasuring her. I would have shown a photograph of you, but I know your confidence, and simply said I was lucky to have finally found someone.

Soon  as the sun began to shine over us, lighting up the field, some of us soon started showing off our gifts, even trading them with the Germans in gesture. Chocolate was passed over for pork sausages, cigarettes for a pastry called 'Bethmannchen' I believe it was called, wine bottles and candles, books and beers, tobacco for buttons, everything seemed like a Saturday Market.  It warmed one's heart in the midst of it all. .

In terms of the gift boxes we received,  some of the Germans had been given pipes themselves. Unlike mine, they were long from tip to chamber, the latter coloured white with an embossed image of the Crown Prince Little Willie, whom I had vaguely recognised from PUNCH magazine's jokes. It was more impressive than mine, but I could never have one around the house. The timing would be rather unfortunate, and it would be a shame during this war. Besides, your father would never let me come around again I imagine, despite I think impressed by the design too.

We soon came to the business of finding the bodies, brushing away the white lumps that covered them so neatly, and bringing our men along  those we had killed in kind. The warmth had faded back to coldness in my chest as I looked on them, quiet and still, their stench  very much overwhelming, my hand was on my scarf in a flash to cover my mouth. We decided to bury them separately, helping each other carry the men back over their respective lines. Me, John, Kaleb, and to our surprise again 'Lollypop', helped the Germans, while Jim, Dennis and Henry stayed on our side.

It was quite a trek to pass over their lines to the very back, further than we've ever succeeded in war. We came to an open space some distance away from the front, where neatly squared holes had been forcefully opened up in the snow, and dug through with huge mounds next to them. At the top of the holes were grey metal crosses, perfectly crafted, with small wreaths hung around the top. I don't think we could even be as well prepared as the Germans in any respect.



Before we laid them to their rest, 'Lollypop' had noticed an inscription on each of the crosses, reading 'Fur Vaterland und Freiheit'. 'For Fatherland and Freedom'. He caused good fuss over this, asking politely how they could fight for freedom, since they had started the war in the first place. One German Officer, Markus Ziegler, said  they were fighting for freedom, to protect their country's interest. 'Lollypop' pushed further pointing out another inscription, despite my pleas, that said 'Hier ruht in Gott, an unbekannter Held'. 'Here lies in God, an unknown Hero'. Ziegler said that God was on their side, which 'Lollypop' tried to rebuke by saying he's on ours. It was that point which made me say to remind them all, that it was Christmas Day. Quarrels were not needed. 'Lollypop' looked at me straight on, and silently nodded. I blinked in surprise of me actually telling him off, but quickly turned my attention back to the soldiers. Kaleb nodded in silence to me too. Soon all the dead were buried, with the 23rd psalm used for each man lost to the world. I even said the words myself, more for convenience than truth.

When we returned back to the front, we arranged a chorus to sing in No Man's  Land after breakfast, and made our way back to our respective trenches. John cooked the sausages he had traded for his bar of chocolate, making a change than the bully beef we had a constant flow of, and everyone lined up for a taste. They were absolutely delicious as I choked it down myself. A shame you won't be able to taste them until this war is over. To fill myself up more, I took my own bar of chocolate and broke three lines off. It was strange to have after the sausage. The sweet taste became somewhat sweeter. Not that it bothered me, it had been a long morning.

We came back together around midday, and started the chorus with one song at a time. The Germans, as usual, sounded perfect as they sang deeply, yet softly too. Jim again tried to match their tempo, but he was never one for a low tune. We applauded each other in salutation, never thinking that they were our enemies still, nor vice versa so I thought. We continued to sing for over two hours, as each man or couple took turns in singing themselves, like we used to down at The Crown. I took a turn myself, singing 'Rufford Park Poachers' to almost thunderous applause. All I could do in reply was beam.

After two, John suggested we all play a football match, and happily one of the Germans, Benny Weber, had brought up a ball from his line earlier. He had said earlier in the day, that he had been part of a team called 'FC Bayern Munich' before the war started. Unfortunately the team had not won any honours yet, but they were still hopeful for something. We managed to clear away a good chunk of the snow, and placed scarves and spare coats down for goal lines.




It was a riveting experience. The man proved his worth a hundred times over, keeping the ball and dribbling all around us, forcing us to land dangerous tackles and brushing our clothes in the snow. Jim and Dennis had kept quiet during his little speech, only to tackle him at nearly every opportunity they could get, sliding the ball away to our side almost every time. I stayed around in the middle to push up to Dennis so he could take his opportunity to score down into the German trenches. Our  skills had finally come into use, but  we lucked out. Weber put the ball down our trench many times, though we refused playfully to keep score, and joked how if we hadn't buried our men, they would have made fine goalkeepers.

With the sun glowing an orange hue behind our lines, we all stood and chatted  one more time. Kaleb gave me his scribbled address on a piece of paper, eyes flittering that we would write to each other after the war. How could I resist? I had enjoyed his company much in the day, and tried to find a small bit of paper myself from my coat, immediately finding the wrapper from the chocolate. I scribbled slowly and clearly so he could read it, and handed it over into his own gloved hand. He thanked me with a nod, and said that his line would not attack us tomorrow without warning, but the day after that? He wasn't sure. I nodded, mouth tightly shut. This truce wouldn't have lasted forever, and we would have to fight each other again. It hurt my chest too. The men we had made new friendships with will be dead sooner or later. Whether it was better for former or latter...I don't want to answer that. Soon, after our watches had struck at Four-Thirty, we gripped each other's hands gently, with faces forlorn, wishing each other one last Merry Christmas, before slowly turning our backs on them and made a slow long walk back to our trench.



Not even our Christmas dinner  could sate our distaste. The chicken was roasted sweetly as we swallowed it anxiously, for we hadn't had their likes for a while. But after a joyful day with our enemy, we couldn't speak at all. Only Jim tried to bring our spirits up with talk of his Gemma, and what he would do when on leave back to York after New Year's. It was a good distraction, and made for good spirits that we will return home soon, along with writing letters back to Blighty. I'm sorry I couldn't get leave at the same time  darling . First come, first served. Two weeks in February was the closest I could get,  so you will be seeing me again very soon.

It has been a strange few days. You'd have never thought we would see these Germans as any more than brutal animals. Yet throughout, Christmas has come first, and thus shown that at the most important time for family and friends, we have become human again. At least for this time. I don't think HQ would take kindly to our blatant fraternisation, and I don't blame them. This is war of course. But for one day, just one day, we were allowed to talk with the enemy, laugh with the enemy, play with the enemy. We were human. I am certain that everything will be over in the next few days, and we will go back to seeing them as 'The Hun'. It bothers me that we may never see each other again, not just in death, but in life. I don't dare keep my hopes up that we will. But it was a good day nonetheless. One that I will not forget anytime soon, dare I say will the world when they find out eventually.

See you in February my darling,


Love, Hoppy

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They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them



Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you all

For the last time this year, Randomizer out.

Thursday, 27 November 2014

5 People to narrate my life!



Welcome back to the Randomizer!

You know I haven’t done any specifically random as of late, probably thanks to the double film review I did in the intervening months. So let’s get back to the spirit of things and talk about: Narration. Yeah, narration why not?



Whenever with one documentary or film, there will be a godlike voice booming over onscreen while you’re sitting down watching with a nice warm blanket wrapped around for the winter months. I have become a bit obsessed with blankets for the moment. Can’t help it. They’re so lovely! But I digress. Do you ever get the voice right inside your head, like once you hear it you never can get it out? After the documentary or film is done, do you start to notice the narration in your head when you read something in time? There’s a number of a therapist for that, or the Samaritans. They’re good people. You can get through this!

Anyway, in honour of hearing narration in your head and general slides to madness, one question I would ask myself in particular is: Who would you want to narrate your life?

Think of it like an autobiography, or one particular event in your life. Which voice, celebrity or friend or monotone, would you feel comfortable to listen to when they list your great achievements, your saddest moments, the different experiences you’ve encountered, the various people you’ve met in your life? Perhaps to go one further, which voices matches your personality, someone that you feel can share the same enjoyment out of life as you can, someone you can near relate to, someone you feel can match your anger word for word when Justin Bieber is your TV screen.

Or on this blog page. The hate is strong.


It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while at least, who would be the best voice for me. Who could convey my feelings, logic, and difficulties I’ve been through. I’ll talk about five particular voices I wouldn’t mind narrating my life, people who I feel could pull it off easily with the right mixture of madness and what intelligence there is my brain! There’ll be those who have stayed with me for a good chunk of my life, people from films, and more than likely picked right out of a top hat at random with names on paper, like the Quiz at the Highwayman Inn on a Thursday night. Only costs £1 to join, with a selection of food and a chance to ‘Play your cards right’, where you can win yourself a good load of money by going higher or lower on seven cards. If Smirnoff did shameful plugs.

Anyway, here then is a list of five random people I think could narrate my life.


No 1: Simon Schama



Who, I hear your minds go? Yeah, I have that ability. Some of you are weird. Some of you may remember too, that I talked about Schama in my ‘1066’ blog last year. For those who haven’t read that yet, Simon Schama is a noted British historian who has presented many documentaries, most recently with ‘The Story of the Jews’ last year and just as notably ‘The Power of Art’, but most famously on these shores for one of the most enigmatic documentary series of all time, ‘A History of Britain’.

He was someone with a good degree of influence on my childhood when I first watched his series on video. How he would tell you blatantly that Edward the Confessor had grown up in Normandy (I still remember my surprise at it), how he would tell about what could be rightly assumed the kings feelings at any period of time, how he would reveal episode by episode how the country become what it is today thanks to the history we have to bear witness to. Here’s a random clip that shows his voice:



I can hear his voice loud and clear in my own head: smooth and calm, yet slightly quiet and brimmed with eloquence that would even make a cat wake up from its slumber and watch him. I’m not sure that’s true but I am willing to experiment! You may have the idea that he belongs in a library with his choice of words and frankly awesome intelligence. In one sense, you’d be right! You can hear the intelligence just flow out of his mouth, and you would listen to the best of your ability. At least I hope you would.

If he was to read my life story out, I can imagine him doing some bits right, like describing ideas of people’s character and how my mind works in relation to others, as well as fond memories of nostalgia. But the voice may not always match up with my other interests. Like with music. Could you match that voice up with me describing my interest in Heavy Metal? Can you try? I did, and it doesn’t necessarily work out so well. When I hear the words ‘distortion’ or ‘headbang’ they don’t really sound right with his voice. At least in my mind. Then again, you can’t imagine him being associated with those words. I can’t see him as a heavy metal fan. You never know though, maybe he likes listening to Judas Priest in his spare time!

I LOVE BRITISH HISTORY!!


Still all things considered, he would be a good choice to narrate my life, but he wouldn’t be pitch perfect. Perhaps a bit of acting in Shakespeare might be the way to go…


No. 2: Sir Gandalf Magneto Lear III

Dear, as his friends call him

 
This man needs no introduction. Sir Gandalf Magneto Lear III or GML3 as we’ll call him for the day is one of the most fantastic actors to grace the world in film, TV and theatre, as well as his active support for the LGBT community and being besties with someone else who might on this list, or not.

Why he? It’s not just because of his voice, though it would be daft to not talk about. Like Schama he can be calm, but you can also hear the tone of playfulness there in that quiet nature, the kind of joke that flutters in your ears when you hear him speak. Maybe that’s because of his Lancaster dialect or theatre background I don’t know. When he is angry too, the loud booms he produces or quiet quick talking like he does in Lord of the Rings to Billy Boyd (Pippen) are nice gems because he will make sure you remember what his says. Again, that might be due to his Shakespearian background but I can only speculate.

YOU...SHALL NOT....vote UKIP as they are a bunch of disturbed lunatics who will do nothing, but rant on about how they're not racist when they clearly are and pretty much use a alcholic salesman as their leader to further their advantage in bringing disrepute to the country. Also they thought that Westminster Cathedral in Victoria was a mosque. (Ahem). FLY YOU FOOLS! 


What made me think in addition that he could be a great choice is that he is relatable, in a specific sense. Not in terms of being gay but being someone different. I remember a featurette from the X-Men extended edition DVD, where he says that he thought that he was a mutant, because he was gay. I don’t know the specific words he said, but it’s along those lines. In some ways I can relate to that because of my autism, and feeling different from others because it is one of those things that may not be a minority, but it’s still something that makes a human being unique and perhaps misunderstood at the same time.

Reading my autism blog from May back to myself and hearing his voice, it does work to a point where his calming nature can put you at ease, and allows you to just listen to his voice, soothing even when thinking back to certain people who shall remain nameless. He would be pretty perfect to narrate my life with the opportunity given. I think our emotions and mindsets would pretty much sync up to a tee! There doesn’t seem to be anything bad I can think about when it comes to his voice. Although in some circumstances I can imagine the theatre skills soaking up the anger perfectly, and bashing it out all over the place. A little exaggerated, but still would be awesomely funny.

So for the moment, Sir Gandalf Magneto Lear III is on top. Next Contestant!


No. 3: Tom Hiddleston

His eyes....look at his eyes...so hypnotising


What can be said about Tom Hiddleston that hasn’t been said already? He’s another theatre/film actor making another big mark around the world and…oh I think I’ve just answered my own question. Oh well. He has appeared on TV screens in the historical series Henry IV and Henry V and starred in a few number of films, more famously for his portrayal of Loki in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Outside his film work, he does many silly things that only does to enforce his epic nature, always awesome, always true.

Again in many ways, I can see the silliness match up with my surreal sense of humour, as I try to make people laugh through different connections and off-kilter banter. At least that’s what I like to believe anyway. I think I’m also sensing a pattern with actors who seem to have calm voices. Like the others, Hiddleston sounds like he is very relaxed and able to make jokes in any kind of situation. With his acting ability, I think he would be almost spot on with feelings of being upset and perhaps at some point despair, as he did with Loki in the first Thor film.

What do you mean the fan girls like Robert Downey Jr more??
 

Reading some of the blog back to myself again in his voice, that calmness did seep through a lot, as his voice could also rise in tone, allowing me to hear the anger surging through as he speaks the words out, as he describes how difficult it was for an 8-10 year old boy, to not fully appreciate the situation they are in at that moment. One thing I would be concerned about is when watching some of the Thor movie back to myself, his anger did go slightly over-the-top in some places. Still I’d be pretty hopeful he would pull it off.

One thing I did take into account was his age, 33. So without meaning to insult an awesome individual, he’s not too old! I might be 25, but with only eight years difference it can be done. I promise you it can be done!...actually I probably shouldn’t say that, yet. We may be friends by some random coincidence in the future, you never know. Maybe when my book gets turned into a film…maybe then. I can only stick to speculation for now. Boo. Anyway, I’ll stop rabbiting on. Awesome actor for what I’ve seen so far, deffo in spontaneous speculation.

Tom Hiddleston gets second place for now, only because GML3 is just a little bit more awesome. Only a little bit. About this much.


No. 4: Sir Charles Piccard



Again, someone who doesn’t really need an introduction…but I’m going to anyway. Sir Charles Piccard is famous for three different roles he plays: Being on Tv for Star Trek: The Next Generation playing Captain Jean-Luc Stewart, on film for the X-Men franchise playing Patrick Xavier, and in real life with Gandalf, playing the role of Macbeth. So yes he is another Shakespearean actor in our midst. That’s another pattern right there, three-fifths of the people I’ve chosen have been involved in Shakespearean productions. Hmmm, maybe I’m just lazy.

Anyway, what got me thinking about Piccard to start with was that he enjoys doing surreal comedy. Don’t quote me on that, but considering the point he has been involved in many of Seth MacFarlane productions like Family Guy and Ted, it does make sense. Also I think I heard it somewhere that he enjoys doing that kind of stuff. I do too, I enjoy the strange world that Family Guy has to offer, along with the random gobbledegook he comes out with when saying the lines.

I think you'll find I can speak the whole role of Macbeth in perfect Klingon. It's more epic that way.


Unfortunately, I don’t know if he would be fitted to narrate my life. Partly the reason could be is that when he speaks in his normal tone, he does sound quite loud. I never really thought of myself as a loud person, only apparently having to speak louder because certain people think I mumble…when I obviously don’t. Looking at you bro. The only way I can imagine his loud voice to work is when I’m really pissed off about something, like Justin Bieber doing something f***ing stupid as he always does.

However I do think in some ways he might be able to pull it off. Despite how loud his voice can be, I can still hear some sort of calmness in his voice, someone that might be able to push the boundaries of how one feels and still show some raw emotion brimming up by rising the tone slightly. If that makes any sense at all. Also I suppose from the look of things he does give a straight faced performance in almost anything he does, like he merges with the character and gives them, and their thoughts, a voice.

In one way, I can see how he would be able to pull such good performances off, like being the cool even-tempered Xavier in the X-Men films (Last Stand definitely notwithstanding). With regards to me, despite his loud voice he would be able to deliver it brilliantly. I don’t mean offence by saying he’s loud enough to burst your eardrums (like he would ever do that!) but simply because I don’t see myself as a loud person. Unless I do theatre work, but yeah that’ll never happen. I’d just freeze and cry.


No. 5: Benedict Cumberbatch

This was a difficult choice for the last one. Sadly it was between Cumberbatch and other famed actor John Hurt. While I thought Hurt would do a great job, Cumberbatch may just nail it a little better for me. Cumberbatch is now effectively the main British actor for many Hollywood movies, starring in Star Trek: Into Darkness, 12 Years a Slave, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, a big mother****ing dragon in The Hobbit films, and most recently in The Imitation Game. In his spare time, he solves all sorts of mysteries and crimes while living at 221B with roommate Martin Freeman.

Also how could I refuse a face like that? Look at him he's so pwecious!


What made me decide for Cumberbatch was the voice, deep and smooth like caramel. At least that’s probably what the impression is I get from ladies who would love to drape themselves over him. In that sense, it would have reflected my emotions a little bit better, as I can hear his calm tone rising higher as he reads from my blog, hearing the anxiety and anger edge into the calmness, and quietly unleash the raw power as he slowly begins to rant. Also, I can imagine him saying ‘Spot the Mother****ing Dog’ REALLY well, without a batter of the eyes.

My name...is Spoooooooooooottttttttttttttttt


Whenever I read the blog back in his voice, it does feel like I’m listening to my own thoughts, in an obvious egotistical way. What I mean is, everything about how he might say it sounds just about right. Perhaps it’s the amount of characters he has played over recent years. Considering his performances, I can’t think of a single role I’ve disliked him in for the moment, which is good! He can deliver the right tone of emotion in his voice, despite the calmness he shows more often than not. Maybe then he’s a great character actor, someone who can fit into any role that interests him, and be quite awesome at that.

So would he be my Number 1 choice? It’s close, but I think GML3 just edges it a little better, partly through his “mutant” nature, but because his delivery is a little bit better. It’s always difficult to compare the two voices, and see which is better, as well as probably offending Cumberbatch by saying ‘You’re awesome, but no’. Sorry! But in all fairness, if Gandalf was to somehow pass up such an unique opportunity, Cumberbatch would be hunted down immediately with as much love as I can muster, and probably blackmailed. I’m just that cruel you know?


So in final order:
1.       Gandalf Magneto Lear III
2.       Benedict Cumberbatch
3.       Tom Hiddleston
4.       Sir Charles Piccard
5.       Simon Schama

I’m quite happy with the choices I’ve made, despite knowing how difficult it was to actually decide which ones to put in, and how deep I went into doing this. Still, it’s in the spirit of fun to think about who you would want to narrate your life, other than Morgan Freeman. I suppose in one way Gandalf was always going to be at the top somewhere, for me anyway. But it depends how deep you’d want to go down into yourself, to find the actor that you feel personally for yourself helps to convey your voice.

You never know it can be fun for yourself to just take five minutes to think about, or write up on Facebook to share around the world if you wanted, depends how far you want to take it. Go wild! For me, I didn’t expect to go too deep into this little article, especially when using my own autistic article to talk about. But with Gandalf popping up, it did seem to make a little more sense, to go beyond comparisons and how they can, in one way, relate to you on a small personal level. That worked for me, but I don’t know about you. Only you can decide for yourself, whether to go down the rabbit hole, or just say a voice right off the bat.

It’s all up to you.


That’s it for this month. In the next week, I will be working on a little something special for my December Edition, or at least try to. No clues will be given in course. Hope you enjoyed this article, and I hope you will see what I have in store next time.

If you want to read my autism blog, go to the blog achieve on the right hand side, click on May, and voila!

Take care of yourselves in the mean time.

Randomizer out.