Bill Blunt's Dream

As someone who was once (self) proclaimed as the distinctive voice of my generation, I can't pretend I have enjoyed the seemingly steady slide into obscurity since I officially 'retired' from being a jobbing-journalist.

The odd syndicated article in the Harpenden Gazette notwithstanding, I have had to slowly acknowledge that my time in the spotlight was over. The halcyon days of my scoops at the Stockport Sentinel are but dusty memories - yellowing cuttings stored in boxes in my attic, yesterday's news that quickly became today's fish and chip wrappings. Or, rather, the day after yesterday's. If you know what I mean.

When I was first introduced to the world of blogging, I'll admit I thought I'd easily recreate my audience. The early signs were encouraging. My technologically-adept son, Jasper, assured me with his regular analysis of the stats gleaned from Statcounter that my readers were, indeed, weeping. Then, the rot set in. Perhaps I took my new-found fame for granted - although it would be a brave man indeed who accused me of that. Whatever the reasons, no matter how often I mentioned Wetherspoons, Waterloo Street in Oldham, Prolectrix products or Kappa tracksuit fetishes, my readers seemed to melt away.

As reality started to bite, it was easy to start posting less frequently.

Until, that is, Jasper rang me last night.

'Pa!' he exclaimed - 'Your stats have just gone mental!' Apparently, my recent post about Bob Dylan had touched a nerve amongst the recent readers of the online fanzine Expecting Rain. To underline the point, he faxed me through the Statcounter figures which, in case there are any circulation auditors out there reading this, I am more than happy to reproduce below:


As you can see, I think I accidentally stumbled on blogging Paydirt - my average 10 or 11 visitors per day increased to 550 just by an accidental mention of the singer from Hibbing (I wouldn't want to tempt fate by mentioning his name so, rather like the Scottish Play, I'll resist).

There's a lesson in this somewhere. When I've worked it out, I'll be back. Broken, but not unbowed. Or something like that.

Of course, it's quite possible that my circulation increase was due to the free fridge magnet in my last post - so here's another one.

Back in The Saddle on The Twelfth Day of Christmas

Young Justin was on the blower to me today. He could hardly contain his excitement, having spent the evening analysing my stats, courtesy of Statcounter.

'Pa! Pa! Pa!' he exclaimed. 'Seems like you've got your audience back!'

I can't pretend I wasn't pleased. Over the last six months, my blog has been dying a slow death, the victim of infrequent postings and the ramblings of a mind which (I don't mind confessing) has been frequently addled by a cheaper whisky than the one I was used to in my days at the top of my profession.

The weekly reports from Justin have made for depressing reading. The glory days when my simple blog could pull in thousands of readers a month have long gone - Bill Blunt was a busted flush! Quite how grim the situation had become can be glimpsed from this graph, which shows the readers who've visited Bill since I made my debut on the internet in 2006...


My theory that there was an audience out there desperate to Read It Like It Is about Sainsburys bargains, Wetherspoons pubs and cheap Ryanair flights to Europe had clearly not held up to scrutiny. If this blog was a listed company, the vultures of the administrators would be circling overhead even as you read these lines.

But no! According to Justin, old Bill's still got a bit of life in him, so those vultures can just pitch themselves off in the direction of another victim.

It's all down to the turn of the year, apparently. My simple, humble New Year Wishes posting drew an unprecedented number of visitors. Every picture tells a story...



Justin furnished me with the full data and, as you can see, a steady stream of visitors (mainly from the Indian subcontinent, it has to be said) found me by Googling 'New Year Wishes'.



There's a lesson in there, somewhere and, once I've worked it, out I'll be back on course to make this blog the first port of call for anyone looking to pick up a cheap ready-meal at their local Sainsburys after a pint or two in a nearby Wetherspoons.

In the meantime - नया साल Wishes to all my readers in Mumbai, or elsewhere.