It was nice to hear 'Monkey Man' from the first Specials album on Six Feet Under Tonight.

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Where the pennies have gone at Spellcnut Towers lately:

Howl- San Francisco leather-panted rockers Black Rebel Motorcycle Club made a bluesy/folksy/country classic. Nowt like the first two albums but a brilliant and brave move that has paid off big time.

Supernature - Alison Goldfrapp gets into bed with Roxy Music, Kate Bush, Gary Numan and Donna Summer and produces a short and shiny stomper. She's a proper pop star now.

Lamb remixed - underrated Manchester electronicists gather their best remixes and amaze me why they never went huge.

The Sound Of Glasgow - Orange Juice were the best band from Scotland ever. Postcard Records was the best Scottish record label ever. They weren't indie stars, they were scenesters. My first ever trip to a gay club was to see Orange Juice play. I was 16 and they were playing at a grotty gay joint in Newcastle where the Kitchenware guys held their Soul Kitchen nights. Scary looking cowboy clone men turned up to watch their club be overrun with students and vinyl/fanzine carrying fanatics like me. The Kitchenware DJ's did their best to keep everyone happy with a mixture of disco Clash, A Certain Ratio, 23 Skidoo and superfast hi-energy.

Slanted And Enchanted - This Pavement album brought back so many 1992 memories. Good memories though. This is my favourite Pavement album and this new package is beautiful. Their influence on today's scene is all pervading.

No cloud, no smog and a great view of London from Parliament Hill on Hampstead Heath today. We saw the big chair and desk and sat and watched kites. We drove to Brick Lane on the way home and bought salt beef bagels.

Tarnation was great. A jumbled scrapbook of photo’s, answerphone messages, super 8 movies and video footage about three generations of a family in crisis. It was pitiful and powerful and heartbreaking but ended on a lovely note of hope. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better documented personal journey through someone’s life.

Somersault was also great. A film about a 16 year old girls loss of innocence and her painful lesson of the difference between sex and love. Every performance was stunning, even the dead-end Aussie skiing town which was overrun with needy and frustrated characters (anyone who grew up in the sticks will relate to this film). On a completely shallow note there were two lovelies in the film (my gaydar twitched when they first appeared on screen together and sure enough an hour later they were kissing). Him and him.

It was a crime that 18th Dye didn’t go ballistic in the early 90’s. Their live shows were very VERY loud and they looked like the coolest mf’ers that ever stomped over to London via Berlin and Denmark. Two boys and a girl made a dense and melodic white noise that used to take my breath away in tiny back-room clubs in Camden. Their two albums, Tribute To A Bus and Done are still played at Spellcnut Towers (when we need that Sonic Youth thrill but with some melody). Anyway, ten years after splitting up they’re back to a play a festival in Sweden. Fingers crossed for a some London dates.

I cycled to work this morning in the pouring rain. I wore my new waterproofs and they turned out to be not waterproof at all. At lunchtime I demanded my money back from the lying sack of shit who sold them to me (“of course they’re 100% waterproof, look it says so on the label”). He coughed up no problem as the shop was packed with potential customers and I was being quite vocal. I ate four raw carrots for lunch (dipped in salad cream) and rented Tarnation and Somersault from the library. I warned Darren that he should finish watching The Assassination Of Richard Nixon before I get home as I’d like to watch both movies tonight and Coronation Street is on twice. I’m also very near completing Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 (at Tycoon level!) and have just bought the add-on pack so I can start playing all over again, this time designing water parks to complement the theme parks. So much stuff to do and so little time to do it. Alain De Botton was right about cultural anxiety. Damn this modern life.

I was walking down Victoria Street yesterday lunchtime when I came across a commotion outside a mobile phone shop. After shouting “move along, move along, there’s nothing to see here” I managed to squeeze my way to the front of the crowd and saw that Derek the GBTFH (gay black tory fox hunter) from Big Brother 6 was sitting on a stool in the window inviting gawpers to take his picture with their mobile phones. Two weeks after leaving the show and he’s a glorified shop window dummy. Still, I bet he’s getting paid more than me so who’s the bigger knobber, me or him? Don’t answer that.

My parents are at our house in Blackpool where my Dad is recovering from pleurisy. I don’t see them too often so have decided to scoot up there tonight and surprise them. I hope I don’t open the door at 10pm tonight and find them ‘entertaining’ the silver-haired swingers of central Blackpool (of which there are plenty I bet). Back on Sunday.

Pussy cat pussy cat where have you been…
…I've been to London to see...
...how the money sucking leeches spend my taxes.
On Saturday we donned our best Hyacinth Bucket outfits and joined the Daily Mail readers of middle England and went to Buckingham Palace to tour the State Rooms and look at her art collection. Pretty impressive in a sumptious and luxurious kinda way. The digital audio guide was excellent and the crowds are kept to a minimum so the whole experience is self-driven and as unhurried as you like. From the front the house looks very boxy and solid but once you enter you realise that it is constructed of four wings around a central courtyard (with lovely red gravel). The decoration, furniture, carpets etc are extraordinary and lavish but don’t look very comfortable. I bet she has a worn-in sofa like this in her private flat (not included on the tour). It was bizarre to be in all those rooms that have been the backdrop for famous photographs over the last 100 years. I’d always wondered what the gardens were like at Buck House and now I know because the exit (after ye gifte shoppe, naturally) is a twenty minute walk past the lake and gigantic weeping willows and dumps you back in noisy and smoggy Grosvenor Place. A surprisingly enjoyable experience, actually.

I knew we’d be mighty thirsty after that tour so I’d booked us in for afternoon tea here. We had champagne, posh sarnies, scones with cream, wee cakes and all washed down with buckets of proper tea. It was pissing down outside so were grateful to be in the very comfortable Windsor Lounge (couldn’t escape the ‘royal’ connections that afternoon) with only a handful of other tea-lovers. Very nice.

We bought some hand-cooked M&S crisps on the way home and watched Casino (uber-violent masterpiece) and Match Of The Day with a supper of crisp sandwiches. I still think Sharon Stone (this site is why I love the internet!) was robbed of the Oscar in 95 as she easily outshines DeNiro and Pesci. Is this your pen?

Well, that was a bugger of a week. Visiting Russian dignitaries kept me on my toes around Whitehall while BA ensured that getting rid of them would be the final headache of the week. Their faces were a picture of pity when they discovered that I'd transferred their BA tickets onto Aeroflot flights! Isn't it great when proud visitors from overseas would prefer to take 18 hours to get home via Cypress rather than 3 hours on their beloved national airline?

It was Darrens birthday on Thursday but he spent most of that day at work on the Isle Of Wight. We know how to celebrate so, when he arrived home, we ordered huge pizza's and opened a bottle of bubbly (aka Pepsi Max). Today we're off on a day out in central London. Can't tell you where as he might see this post when he rises. Needless to say food is involved and he's been warned to wear a smart shirt (and to put a tie in his pocket just in case).

My Dad has pleurisy. He's on antibiotics and bed rest and is improving. I've offered them the use of our Blackpool house for his recouperation and they seem quite tempted. The parents are getting old now and they seem to be susceptible to more and more illnesses. My Dad has had two strokes in the past 10 years and now has a pacemaker fitted. My Mum has had one stroke (following para-gliding in Greece so what did she expect!), she has late onset diabetes and is mildly epileptic. I must check if there is a will prepared next time I'm in Newcastle.

The Incredible Journey, Greyfriars Bobby and Old Yeller all make me wet-eyed. Steel Magnolias, Beaches and Ring Of Bright Water too. My Dog Skip, Bambi, Goodbye, Mr Chips and Imitation Of Life also. Classic tear-jerkers like Gone With The Wind, Love Story, Terms Of Endearment and The Champ didn't raise an atom of moisture from me. I cried at the end of Titanic but that was from the realisation that 4 hospitals could have been built for the price it took to make that piece of sinking syrup. I remember one Christmas morning watching Watership Down on TV with my Dad while Mum peeled potatoes in the kitchen. She came through to the living room with wet hands and a sharp knife to shout at us for not helping her and found us both pretending we had something in our eyes and wintery runny noses.

Do you remember how 'shocking' this photo was in 1983?


Gosford Park
Been a while but here’s some catch-up.
Played croquet at a big country house last weekend. There was Pimms, fresh chutneys and cake. On the way to the country we bumped into Nik Kershaw in the potted meats aisle of his local supermarket. I recognised his face but couldn’t put a name to it until DG (huge Kershaw fan and general 80’s pop aficionado) dropped his shopping basket and rushed over to Mr Kershaw and began to pester him to sign his DG underwear (he did the same thing to Howard Jones last year at the Caravan Show). Nik Kershaw popularised the snood during his 'spell at the top' in the 1950's but now only dogs seem to find the snood fashionable.
There was a horticultural quiz (which Darren won) and at sunset the hostess arranged for two gigantic hot air balloons to sail over us and drop scented petals into our hair.

On Sunday I did nothing. At all.

Yesterday I went to the ancient Indian city of Leicester. I met Paul Smith's accountant, I chastised an engineering company for dodgy contract dealings in Iraq and I nearly finished the first Lucifer Box novel on the train home. I wore a single breasted light grey suit (not Paul Smith) with black brogues.
In the evening mad Liz turned up with warm fresh-baked scones wrapped in a tea cloth (to stop them sweating). Liz is our favourite spinster and will be moving to Blackpool with us to be our live-in housekeeper.

It's Darren's birthday on Thursday so I'm just popping out to the Barbour shop to collect a pair of monogrammed green wellies I ordered for him.

Like a smartly dressed version of Interpol, Editors stomped into Spellcnut Towers and refuse to leave the stereo. Joy Division and Echo And The Bunnymen comparisons are just lazy words. If you like Coldplay you will hate this CD. Violent drumming, aggressive vocals (the singer has a lovely deep range) and squealing, high pitched guitars make this a noisy and beautiful package. 'Fingers In The Factories' is a classic stomper which slaps you across the face then gives you a dead arm. AND it's on Kitchenware! (Newcastle record label and once the poor mans Postcard. Postcard folded but Kitchenware blossomed and gave us Prefab Sprout and the brilliant Fatima Mansions).

Classy BBC show Coast is on TV tonight and they've reached Blackpool. Watch the team get pissed on Bacardi Breezers, throw-up at The Pleasure Beach and shag local chav lads under North Pier (it's not Britains premier seaside resort for nothing you know).

BB6 in the USA has a similar situation on their hands as us with Craig and Anthony. Except their straight guy seems to be a bit more 'up for it' than Anthony is (the big 'ol white boy is the straight one by the way).
(from Towleroad)

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Blimey! Every second of the day a new blog is created.

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Mr Depps Willy Wonka hair-do has been around for years.

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Doggy style

Jake was the only non-human to swim the cold, choppy waters from Alcatraz Island to the shores of San Francisco in the 10th annual Alcatraz Invitational Swim last weekend. The four-year-old, 65-pound golden retriever paddled the 1.2-mile swim in under 42 minutes and finished in 72nd place – out of 500. Jake and his roommate, Jeff Pokonosky (woof!), swam together. "He was very focused," Jeff said of his swim partner. "He started out really fast. I was trying to slow him down. He increased his pace to stay with the pack." It's not weird, but Jake and Jeff live in San Diego, where they enjoy long walks along the beach together, bodysurfing, and swimming four miles a day. We heard a rumor that they like to pick up bitches together, too. (from WoW)

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I bought a book at the airport in 1982 about Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick. I read it while bimbling up and down the Eastern seaboard that summer. I researched the haunts and hell holes in NYC that feature in the book. Then I moved on and stopped being obsessed. Last year a movie was announced based on Edie's life to be called Factory Girl and was to star Sienna Miller. Then Sienna pulled out due to theatre commitments and Katie Holmes (aka Tom's beard) was fingered for the role. Oh dear, having a posh English girl play New Yorks most famous 60's drug addict was bad enough but Katie Holmes? Katie is just too soapy clean. No. Won't have it. Yesterday I heard Sienna is back on board but today I read that she is six weeks pregnant with Judes baby. Can I suggest Amanda Peet please? I'm convinced she based her role in Igby Goes Down on Edie and she was fantastic.

3 months until Michael Clark resurrects his classic 'O' at the Barbican. We've got our tickets so make sure you get yours soon as this baby is selling like hot cakes. More deets for modern dance peeps. Stick your Riverdance up your arse.