Posted by: docdenbow | February 17, 2013

Who Is The Average Man In The Street?

I read quite a few articles on t’interweb. They usually fall into the “comment” section of something like The Guardian, The Independent or are dragged into The Huffington Post. Some are interesting, some are painfully twee self indulgent bollocks written by some middle-class gimbo who thinks that he’s down with the average “man in the street.” Ever stopped to think that the “average man in the street” is usually found to be shouting “Gishoo” and flogging some spiritually unenlightening magazine. The other men in the street are usually just passing through.

These days I really don’t think that there’s such a thing as the average “man in the street.” I always think of the street in question to be the high street of your average town or city. When you go into the high street of your average town or city, simply put you’ll be on your own. All of the shops have closed down leaving a trail of “To Let” signs and Charity Shops. Oh, and of course a few forlorn chaps shouting out “Gishoo” to no one at all. What I’m trying to say is that the “average man in the street” doesn’t exist anymore. It’s more likely that we now have the “average man in the out of town shopping complex.” Now this fellow is either is one of those metro-sexual beings who is off in search of some moisturiser or some balding middle fat bloke who has slunk out of the fire exit to spark up a quick Lambert.

These comments or opinion articles from the likes of Victoria Coren, Wilf Self and Caitlin Moran really make little sense as (and I’m certain that they are lovely people) they’ve moved too far away from the ground zero of what most people consider normal life. Not for them a diet of Findus’ Finest Horse Lasagne, no they probably get their nosh delivered by Fortnum and Masons (wish I did) and they only get “real” when bunging muesli into a bowl or bread into a toaster. They can afford to eat out at the finest restaurants the rest of the time.

You may have read this far and come to the conclusion that I’m bitter and twisted, consumed and contorted by impotent jealously. You would be absolutely right. I am jealous of the fact that these people have succeeded in becoming social and media commentators whose opinions are read and even discussed over dinner. I guess my social and media comments don’t matter as I’m and aging bloke from Wolverhampton who lives in Wales.

I’m never going to succeed in becoming a professional writer – I know that.

But that won’t prevent me from writing and hoping against hope that one day that I will be noticed.

Ciao For Now




  1. Would being noticed, mean anything though? Writing is a thankless art. You have to write because you love it and then presume an audience. We’re small fish in a vast pond mate. You can get noticed, you will, but you’ve gotta keep on writing and seeing what happens. Peace!

    • You gotta write because you love it? Well at the moment me and writing are “going through a bad patch” or “having a tiff.”
      I feel I’m repeating myself or plagiarising people who DO have an original idea in their heads e.g. Charlie Brooker

      • An Englishman in Wales (any comedy, serious comment, social or random posts in that?). Homesick and Thankful (Talk about the downfall of Wolves as you talked so clearly and entertaining to me on that car park that day). The beauty of Wales (it is ongoing mate – I love Wales!). Swansea FC (adopted footie team, ups and downs, current success). All of your Music knowledge and love (you could blog about that for hours mate, and you know it). Blogging aint about stress or effort or struggle man. Fuck Charlie Brooker find your own voice, in his style, can you effortlessly rip apart or moan or praise things in Wales? I bet you can if you search the local newspapers hard enough fella!!! 🙂 listen to “An ENglishman in New York” and think how can I be that same Englishman in Wales. I dare you. You’ll be blogging twice a day before you know it mate.

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