To Sir (female, plural), With Love

So there aren't many things I dislike about Glee.

There. I said it. I'm a Gleek. I am a Gleek first-and-foremost because I like the music. Many have a problem with "what Glee does to old music". To them I say that having someone else sing a song in a slightly more modern way does not screw over the original. Rather, it brings attention to it. You guys have a problem with theatre companies that present Shakespeare in a way that lets kids get into it? End of song.

Notice that rant just then? That's how much I like Glee.

Anyway, as aforementioned, there aren't many things I dislike about Glee. It's actually not so much that I dislike anything about Glee at all, really, it's more the people that have jumped on the bandwagon. For example, Glee tributes, which have brilliantly decided that the world was somewhat lacking in Glee, and that, since Glee is obviously no longer around to fulfil our Glee-based needs, they should supply us with the Glee we are so lacking in our daily lives.

"I just can't deal with life," the children say, "now that Glee is gone. It was a part of my life for so long, and has made such an impact."

A woman, mid-30s, WASP, suggests over cocktails with the girls "There's a Glee tribute band playing next week - shall we go?", to which one of the girls replies "Ooh, gosh, that takes me back."

IT'S STILL HERE YOU MORONS!

Glee-based reality shows are possibly worse (but how you would go about measuring that I really couldn't imagine). For those of you who have already stopped believing and therefore thought "that doesn't apply to me" (switching over to The Biggest Loser, because that rings true), these are full of people who, despite having strong musical backgrounds and a BA in Grinning, seemingly didn't realise that this was what they wanted to do with their lives until 12 months ago when TV told them it was. It's great that people want to make music and, you know, smile (you worked hard for that 2:1!), but I dislike anything with a bandwagon. Especially horses. I just can't get behind a horse with a bandwagon.

Cultural bandwagons are everywhere these days, and I don't much care for it. When I was younger there was no TV show offering a chance for sixteen-year olds who wanted to be Britain's Next Top Vampire Slayer. Good thing too, 'cause these days Buffy's not going to be slaying vampires so much as decapitating the hordes of teenage girls defending said vampires just because they're glittery (don't get me started on glittery vampires).

There is a point to this, I promise. Though it's been waylaid by my new job as a writer for Grumpy Old Men.

The point is this (and you're going to hate me for taking the long way here, but you may as well get used to tangents): There are things I DO like about Glee, and one of those things is that it makes me feel better about the relationships I had with my teachers.

There were only four things in school that I was actually good at:

1. English. Quelle surprise! (I sucked at French)

2. Biology. Somehow I respond well to diagrams of the reproductive system, despite the fact I never intend to use it for it's real purposes.

3. Computing. I was creating spreadsheets in the womb. Perhaps more impressive was that my mother has Microsoft Office installed.

4. Drama. Which I never left.

Far be it from me to be the saddest boy at the party, but if I wasn't sitting in the Drama department I was at the chippy across the street getting a deep-fried pizza (surprisingly healthy - if you weren't fit enough to run, you weren't getting across that road). There are maybe a handful of people I would say have really inspired me in my life, and at least four of them were drama teachers. Which does sound pretty sad, but I doubt my mother lay awake at night and thought "why can't he be more influenced by adulterous, over-paid, arrogant football players, or that nice Eminem fella?" (my mum doesn't say "fella", but that's 'cause she's not Vera Duckworth).

So I'm at Glasgow Central Station Lower Level, three days ago, when I felt someone tap me on the back. One of those moments when you'll usually turn round and it's just that someone has accidentally hit you with their guitar or their ridiculous nose (try not to gawk...NO! Don't look again! He'll know you're-OOPS! Yeah, let's pay attention to the stairs again...).

Pleasantly surprisingly (see "Things I was good at at school Number 1"), it was one of those four people I was talking about a whole tangent ago, on her way to meet another one of those four people. What really impacted me was that here I was, eventually talking to them both, about what I was "doing with myself". And they made me feel genuinely proud. A point was made about how they never hear anything from me, and usually stuff filters down, so when I started talking about what I was doing, some of it was a total surprise to them. Apparently I never struck them as the musical theatre type, but whether that was because I was a pretentious eejit or just too fat to dance remains a mystery. But here were these women, five years on, still the same people, still making me feel good about where I was in life.

It's not much, God knows. But I'm so happy with the opportunities I've had in the last year, and yeah, I'm still not getting paid for it, and I don't want to be doing amateur theatre and short films for my whole life. But where I am - it's awesome, for now. And it just spurred me on to spend the next year really working at this, because I have more people rooting for me. And I want new things to be able to tell them next time I run into them (preferably with lots of hard-earned money in my pockets, just to pad out the ol' thigh muscles).


So a new, even more long-term goal is set:

One day I will turn up at that school, walk into that department, and say the immortal words "Hi guys, look at all the parts I have". And there, as they watch the police wrestle me to the ground, I know they'll be proud.

And hopefully post bail.