I haven’t updated this Blog for quite a while now, due to a sequence of holidays and general Summer happiness.

I need an underlying level of misery as a trigger to write this stuff. That way I reach a decent state of empathy with anyone that reads it.

I could move to Slough I suppose to artificially trigger my creative juices but decided just to wait until the dark nights arrive to do my work for me.

In any case, I was  lured out of retirement by two things:

i)                    I have received a notification that the domain name this Blog uses will automatically be renewed at a cost of $26 for the next year.  In fact it calls it an ‘upgrade’ and says it will happen unless I advise otherwise. The upgrade being, it seems from a domain that is disappearing to one that isn’t, but with all the same features as the $16 one I paid for last year.

Market forces would suggest I could just make them a lower offer for it, as demand for www.davedawsonhaswaytoomuchtimeonhishands.com must surely be pretty bloody small.

That’s not how it works though apparently.

I’ve paid now and my attempts to change this Blog into a subscription service have been something of a disappointment, so I thought I might as well write something.

Inexplicably, the stats I get for my current $16 suggest a lot of people read it (in addition to those that just get it automatically Emailed to them whether they like it or not).

They don’t tell me whether they are the same people coming back repeatedly, or a larger number who stumble on it once, then click the Never, Ever, Ever Again button – and run away making the same high pitched whimpering noise that dogs make if you kick them as they keep snuffling around your legs every time you walk across the bloody park


Maybe my extra $10 from next month will tell me that.

ii)                   This is the big one.

As you may recall, I have an ongoing campaign to re-establish the name Dave in common usage. Offers to impregnate someone so that I have a realistic vote about the baby’s name have been like pearls before swine

Which I admit is an unfortunate metaphor in the circumstances

Anyway, I went past a milkshake shop called Shakeaway recently where you choose the ingredients and they grind up your selected fruit, biscuits, car hub caps or whatever into a milk shake.

On their selected list is a Milkshake called DAVE.    Not Dave Banana milkshake or something, just DAVE.

I reached a level of excitement normally only experienced by Welsh people coming across a vowel

A good sign for Dave enthusiasts you might think but I worry this will leave a whole generation who are no more likely to call their babies Dave than they are to call them Mivvi or Raspberry Finger.

I toyed with buying a DAVE but discovered it contains ground up Ferrero Rocher and I couldn’t order without a reference to the ‘ Ambassador you’re really spoiling us’ line. The  staff wouldn’t have laughed as it’s not funny and also as they were all teenagers and hence too full of hormones and self loathing for even a titter.

So there you have it – no Dave Milkshake, no Dave baby, no daylight after 7pm. I think there could be a flood of Blog Posts coming up.