Brilliant site featuring crazy and disturbing album covers. Hilarious.





And, in the spirit of new years resolutions, look at these.....

Carry On Camping is on TV in five minutes. I might wet myself laughing. Tom went to NYC with the son of Bernard Bresslaw to see Mike Tyson fight. Fact.

Where....
is everyone? Cruising round blogland tonight and all I found was tumbleweed. Hello? Anyone there? Is everyone pretending to have a life? Pretending to be somewhere else doing something interesting? I know you don't have lives so you can stop this charade. I mean, why have a blog if you have a life? Duh!
I'll be glad when everyone gets back to work so they can start writing again on the companies time. Not that I'm lonely or anything.
*Dave turns to his teddy and feeds him a spoonful of breakfast cereal while balancing the telephone between shoulder and ear and listening to the speaking clock*

Bjork. Family Tree cd.
Penetration. Don't Dictate cd.
Josef K. Young and Stupid cd.
Ramones. Anthology cd.
Ladytron. Light and Magic.
DVD movies for winter nights: Rushmore, A Ma Soeur, Time Out, Harold and Maude.
Books about these.
Zoo Tycoon with expansion packs.
Good friends, good food and bad television at his house.
He couldn't make it as he had a hot date skiing in St Moritz on Christmas day. We did have a cable-car conversation though.

"The face of Strummer has fell from the wall and nothing is left where it hung". Aztec Camera, 1981.

Give Barry a scratch behind the ears from me Joe.

Like thousands of teenagers growing up in the 70s, punk and The Clash changed my life in a fundamental way. Their mixture of politics and music shaped my beliefs and tastes and made me the person I am today. Christmas is ruined.
Moby

What a shock - old punks never die they just stand at the back.
Nicky Wire, Manic Street Preachers

Numb, gutted & shocked - 3 words that sum up how I feel. Passionate, principled, genius - 3 words that sum up Joe Strummer.
Martin Scorcese

The Clash were a major influence on my own music, they were the best rock n roll band. Thanks Joe!!
Bruce Springsteen

Joe Strummer was a man who wasn't afraid to voice his beliefs. A passionate, vocal, sincere olde punk. The Clash produced a contrast to the nihilism of the Sex Pistols, and educated an audience about the realities of the state. Music has lost one of its true rebels.
Ken Livingston, London Mayor

The most profound voice of any musician I have ever heard, Joe took his message to the world and the world listened. He managed to influence more than one generation with his innovative and determined manner and I am not alone in repeatedly turning to his thoughts and lyrics when searching for inspiration.
Bono

Shocking news - The Clash had a massive influence on me in my teenage years and even now, 25 years later, hardly a week goes by without one of their albums featuring on my CD player. In the week that yet another dreadful, manufactured 'band' hits the charts Joe is a reminder of what music really should be like. One of the greatest songwriters and musicians of our time, he will be greatly missed.
Neil Tennant

God Bless him. He brought me many good times, happy moments and adrenalin rushes. London Calling will be the lasting testament to his muse and through that he and the rest of the band shall achieve immortality. One of the finest albums of the Twentieth Century and one of the most influential musicians of his generation.
John Peel

A tragedy, I saw Joe Strummer and the Mescalores play a gig for the fire fighters a few weeks ago. They were great and a real return to form, a sad loss for music and the left.
James Dean Bradfield

The Clash were innovative, radical and helped drive a change in music that was ground-breaking. In comparison to some of the music today they sounded like they meant it. I still listen to their music today to remind my self what music made with commitment sounds like.
Chrissie Hynde

The Clash turned punk into a proper political movement, and Joe Strummer showed recently that he still had much of value to say. It is a terrible tragedy to lose him at this early age.
David Bowie

A true genius, a man of class and convictions. A personal hero. I can't believe he is gone. My heart goes out to his wife and children
Mike D, Beastie Boys

I can't believe it. Joe was as huge an inspiration to me now as he was in 1977. He combined cool with an uncompromising stance, infused reggae into punk and taught a whole generation of us more about politics than any number of teachers or politicians. I desperately wish news of his death was untrue. Joe - you were the best.
Iggy Pop

Still here and keeping an eye on you all.
Merry Christmas bloggers!
*Dave pours another plastic cup of sherry and helps himself to his 173rd Cadburys hero while ignoring colleagues pleas of "those were bought for the whole office you know!"*

The golden wedding anniversary party turned out to be a gathering of racist rednecks with a taste for bad karaoke (like there's any other kind). Horrific.
Sunday was nice. Mum, Dad and me went to the Baltic Art Gallery. The art was lousy but the building was beautiful. The new footbridge connecting Newcastle and Gateshead is now flanked by two huge Julian Opie installations. The bridge was raised to let some sailors leave Newcastle. I waved my hanky.

Office christmas lunch today at this ancient establishment. Fine dining rooms overlooking the Thames I'm told.

Darren took me to Joe Allen for dinner last night. Gorgeous grub at this classic 'luvvie' hangout. Resting actors as waiters, c-list celebs buttering up their agents, rich dykes in suits drinking brandy at the bar and the best NY cheesecake in London. An ace treat, ta luv.

Off to Newcastle tomorow on a big fast train. To see Mum and Dad and trade christmas gifts. It's also my great aunts golden wedding anniversary party so should be a good opportunity to go round the room telling a pack of lies to various relatives I haven't seen in years. "Oh! Your Mum never told me you got married and have two little girls".

My Mum and me 22 years ago.


It's my birthday today.
In the 60's they didn't tell you to stop smoking and drinking if you were pregnant. Not that my Mum smoked anyway but I think she liked the odd glass of sherry. Legend has it that I was induced by a greasy funfair lad. My Dad had taken my nine months pregnant Mum to a christmas fair in Newcastle. They went for a spin on the waltzer (that's a tilt-a-whirl for our American readers) and the greasy funfair worker spun their car a bit too fast. Bingo! Waters broke and Mums second ride of the day was in an ambulance.
I was a large baby. 9 months of chips, lard, bacon and cheap chocolate had ensured that both me and my Mum had grown quickly and substantially. So substantially that the doctors decided I was way too big for my Mum to pop out as she is five foot two and is classed as 'petite'. I entered this world through caesarian section which was not as common as it is today. In fact I left hospital two weeks before my Mum and was cared for by my Grandparents.
My Mum likes to tell the story of how, in those days, they didn't sew the caesarian wound closed, they stapled it shut. She even kept the little metal clips they used on her and when I was naughty she'd get them out to scare me and say "look what I went through for you!". Bless.
Anyway, thanks Mum (and Dad). Thanks for going through with it and thanks for making me.

This morning at 7.30 I was sitting up in bed playing 'The Getaway' on my PS2 thanks to my BF. The streets of London were littered with bodies due to my atrocious driving. Tonight is a special surprise from him but I was told to iron a nice shirt so I better dash and do it and then make my way to work.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

.......Happy.

I'm 38 tomorrow.
When my Dad was 38 I was 14. For my 14th birthday I received the Ramones album 'Leave Home' and a border collie puppy which I named Sheena ('Sheena Is A Punk Rocker' being my favourite track on that album).
If I had a 14 year old son with a birthday tomorrow I would buy him that Ramones album and get him a rescue dog from here.

Blimey! Can't believe I've been working so hard lately. My assistant left to have a baby two weeks ago. The father is my boss. His wife was not pleased. Water cooler romance. I gave them my blessing. Anyway, the cow has left me in the lurch and now I have to do her work (which was originally mine which I foisted on her) as well as my own. Feckin' fertile females.

Manic Street Preachers were great. We squeezed down the front with a couple of stellas (beer not McCartney) and rocked out with the straight boys. Actually, we just nodded along with the other 30-something's around us. Didn't want to spill beer on the Armani duffel coat in front of me. Holy Bible received short shrift, the proles responding, naturally, to the big anthems like 'Design For Life'. We were drunk when we got home so cooked up a batch of Aberdeen Angus beef sausages and watched the Sopranos. Twas a grand end to a grand weekend.

Weird dawn dream this morning. Chick Corea was inserting LSD spiked suppositories up me whilst Hattie McDaniel wandered around the bedroom tut-tutting at the way I fold my t-shirts. Bruce Weber was on a paint splattered step-ladder shooting the whole scene. Needless to say we all looked fabulous.

Turned onto them late but so glad to be listening now. Dirty Vegas debut and the latest from Underworld. Cock rock electric.

They Shoot Horses Don't They?

Big beautiful Bluewater. Yuletide presents obtained safely.

My bf can now see my rugged handsome features so much clearer thanks to Phillip Starck. Ready for collection in one hour sir! How modern is that?

December 21st 1994. London Astoria theatre. Last time I saw the Manic Street Preachers. Richeys guitar was plugged in. Brixton Academy tomorrow. Big boys now. Anyone want a Playbill?

Turned down free tickets to Primal Scream and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club tonight. Whats wrong with me? Actually I have knitting to finish. Half completed shawl for incontinent Grandmother. Watch those needles fly!

In court yesterday.......
........when prosecuting attorney Louis Miller asked if Michael Jackson suffered from memory problems, he replied: "Not that I can recall.''
The more he fucks up the more I like him.

The black pill-box hat with veil are back in the wardrobe now but the black arm-bands stay on for another week.

Lakeside tomorrow with Darren. Getting stuff for Santa's sack. Manic Street Preachers on Sunday at Brixton Academy.

Barry loved the Manics. He made me see the genius in that difficult third album 'The Holy Bible'.

And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200, anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock,
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

"Goodbye to you my trusted friend........"
Barry.
April 1990 - 2nd December 2002.


You told me to lie on my bed on the floor
then left me for eight days
though to me it seemed longer.

In circles I turned and turned
searching for a way
to lie on my bed on the floor

and keep an eye on the door.
When John came we walked and played
for hours, though it seemed longer.

I knew you hadn't gone to the store,
but for an endless hospital stay
while I waited for you on the floor.

Each time the elevator door
opened, I'd bark and bay
hoping that it wouldn't be any longer,

that you'd be home before
the end of the day,
and we'd be in your bed off the floor.

We'd lie together with my paw
on your chest and stay
until morning, though it would seem longer.

When you came home just a little stronger
and I nosed and rubbed my favourite odour
you lay down on my bed on the floor
for an hour though to me it seemed longer.

ZURICH







We had nice Swiss food, saw the Swarovski christmas tree, the Santa tram, the best toy train shop in the world, stroked dogs in restaurants (that's right, how civilised), watched 'Flawless' and 'The Broken Hearts Club', set up Toms computer (been in boxes for 3 months), walked beside Lake Zurich and rode on a tram. Easyjet on time both ways. Miracle! Thanks for your hospitality Tom.

My hope today is for those who are sick beyond help. I hope that they sleep through the worst when it's 'that time'.

The number of people living with HIV in the world today has risen to 42 million. Five million people were newly-infected and 3.1 million people were killed by the disease this year.

Lucio came round last night with the equipment to network our computers. Now we both have broadband. Bliss. Thanks Lucio.

We're off to Zurich tomorrow morning for the weekend to stay with our friend Tom and see the Christmas market. Hurrah for Easyjet cheap returns. Gorra drive to Luton at 5am though. Still, we should be fingering cute Christmas tree trinkets by 10am.

Lucio (regular readers will remember that our friendship was tested recently but is now rock solid again) is off to Australia on Sunday to see his family. Luckily, he is back in time to host his annual Christmas day gathering complete with too much food, too much wine and way too much hookah pipe.

So, have a smashing weekend everyone and make sure you vote wisely at Peters place.

100 Gay Great Britons.
Apparently you can vote for dead ones too. But obviously we won't be able to thank them for their valuable contributions to our lives. Never mind.
Here's my top ten. In no particular order.

1. Alan Hollinghurst
2. Peter Tatchell
3. Boy George
4. Mark Simpson
5. Nick Partridge
6. Patrick Gale
7. Morrissey
8. Serena McKellen
9. Alexander McQueen
10. Aiden Shaw

All alive and gagging for gratitude.

It's a dull ache rather than a pain and it's been there for a week. Started to worry me around Thursday last week and by Friday night I was googling for 'testicular cancer'. Mmmmmm, I seem to have several of the symptoms. Oh dear. Down to the local BUPA hospital yesterday for an inspection. Very nice Indian woman slapped on some latex gloves and gave me a bloody good handling. Told me to stop worrying about the big C. Said it was probably an internal infection and sent me home with antibiotics.

So down to Duckie last night with Darren, Martin and Lucio to celebrate the life of Yootha Joyce. Photocopy blow-ups of Yootha all over the pub. Man About The House on the telly on stage. Some whippersnapper next to me asked if the picture of Yootha was Paula Yates! He looked about 19 so I smacked him. They really are the best DJ's in the world you know. They blew that pub apart last night. 'Sheena Is A Punk Rocker' being particularly memorable. Chig will be pleased to know that 'Band Of Gold' slotted in very nicely between 'Hotel Yorba' and 'Being Boiled'. Got very drunk, which numbed my aching knackers.

It's not that......
......todays music is shite, god knows I loved the Strokes album and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs singles, but there's no revolution, no new-ness, nothing unique. When was the last EXCITING movement? Britpop? Acid House? fuck knows. Dug out my records last week, plugged in my old Dual deck and rediscovered NO Wave/Post Punk. It wasn't much of a movement I know but, for me, contained as much excitement as Punk. No Wave music reasserted the original anarchy and amateurism of punk rock while rejecting the formulaic rhythms of rock and roll, and the structure that came with regular chord changes and verse/chorus organization. These musicians explored the extremes rhythm and the textures of noise that could be produced with garage band equipment. As raw and fresh as it was, no wave sounded like an amalgam of weird 60's experiments, a blend of Sun Ra, the Velvet Underground, Yoko Ono, and Captain Beefheart, with echoes of disco thrown into the mix.
Amazon delivered to me today two vinyl albums; A South Bronx Story by ESG and In The Beginning There Was Rhythm by various artists. ESG were formed at the start of Hip-Hop. They became the most sampled of groups ever among their contemporaries such as Public Enemy, LL Cool J, Marley Marl and Grandmaster Flash. Shortly afterwards they were adopted by the underground dance scene. ESG are indeed the only group to play at the opening night of Manchester's legendary Hacienda and the closing night of New York's equally legendary Paradise Garage where they shared the night with Larry Levan. Originally signed to Factory Records in the UK their first album was produced by Martin Hannett and recorded at the same time as A Certain Ratio's classic To Each album. Current artists such as Le Tigre and Peaches constantly cite ESG as inspiration. In the early '80s, ESG inspired the new wave scene from dark and moody to dance-y, quirky, and all-around more inspired by black music, when they found themselves opening for acts like the Clash, A Certain Ratio, Public Image Ltd., Liquid Liquid, and Gang of Four.

ESG


Dancing at Club Soul Kitchen in Newcastle (later to become the top geordie label Kitchenware) on a thursday night in 1982 to ESG's 'Moody' followed by 23 Skidoo's 'Coup' was always one of the highlights of my week. Flat-tops, tartan shirts, Levis red tabs, Doc Martin loafers with tassles, lager 'n' black, girls with french plaits and 50's blouses, smoking while dancing then storming off the floor because the DJ was playing Theatre of Hates 'Westworld' for the third time that night. Memories. Fading fast.

How raw do you like your dance music? Does modern techno feel like a soft blow to your skull? There used to be a better way. In the Beginning There Was Rhythm is a compilation of British post-punk bands, including the Slits, Gang of Four, Throbbing Gristle, and Cabaret Voltaire. Lots of drums and wires, knife-sharp scratchy rhythm guitar, crappy synths, and old funk and reggae samples. Men shouting political slogans and naked women covered in mud. It may sound old, but it sure as hell isn't dated.This stuff is primal, made by people who were finding new ways to move us. Picture early man banging animal skins with sticks and that's your average live Slits show.
These songs came out of the bleak setting of industrial England in the late 70s and early 80s. The Thatcher administration came into power, and skinheads and members of the National Right roamed the streets. Against this climate, bands emerged embodying a new racial, sexual, and musical diversity. DJs spun reggae records at punk shows. Tape loops and synthesizers joined the guitar as lead instruments. Funk, dub, and experimental music were bigger influences than the Velvet Underground.
If there's anything's wrong with 'In The Beginning There Was Rhythm', it's that it's too short; the story of post-punk could take up several box sets. Many bands got left out, and it would also be interesting to hear how the bands developed-- for example, to watch the early Human League with its craptronic keyboards and all-guy line-up grow into the band that created the synth-pop masterpiece Dare. But the problem with big anthologies is that they inevitably use tracks that are important but aren't fun. This album, on the other hand, doesn't have a single limp tune. So, imagine you are in a cold, crowded warehouse in Deptford, rigged with neon-lights and heavy amps, people look like they are members of the Nazi Youth yet wear anti-nazi-league badges, Johnny Lydon is starting a drunken brawl in one corner and somewhere on a stage a heroin-addicted drummer is banging away like there is no tomorrow. You get the idea.

A Certain Ratio (which one d'ya wanna fuck most?)

East to West, which is best?
They all have their merits. Route number 3 lets me see this everyday.

Route number 1
Lea Valley reservoirs, Seven Sisters, Stoke Newington, Islington, Smithfield meat market, Victoria Embankment, Parliament Square, St James Park, Victoria. 40 minutes.
Route number 2
Lea Valley reservoirs, Seven Sisters, Dalston, Shoreditch, Tower of London, City, Victoria Embankment, Parliament Square, St James Park, Victoria. 40 minutes.
Route number 3
Lea Valley reservoirs, Seven Sisters, Manor House, Stoke Newington, Highbury, Upper Street Islington, Sadlers Wells, Holborn, Shaftsbury Avenue, Haymarket, Pall Mall, The Mall, Buckingham Palace, Victoria. 40 minutes.

Gotta love 'em!
A fight between friends over who had the hairiest buttocks landed one of them in the hospital and the other in jail, according to police. Police in New Jersey said Emmanuel Nieves and Erik Saporito were talking with friends Wednesday about their buttocks when the conversation became heated. Nieves got so upset, he allegedly pulled a knife and slashed Saporito on the head. Saporito is in good condition after being treated at a Hackettstown hospital. Nieves is being held on $25,000 bond. Charges include aggravated assault, terroristic threats, weapons offenses and criminal mischief.
Thank you for bringing this gem to my attention.

It's at this point when you wonder "are these my last seconds on this sweet earth?".

For Sale
* 1985 Blue Volkswagen Golf
* Only 15 miles on the clock
* Only first gear and reverse ever used
* Never driven fast
* Original tires
* Original brakes
* Original fuel and oil
* Only 1 owner
* Photo here

SHAME


Another weekend over. Where does the time go?
* Sopranos, series 3, DVD. Nearly watched 'em all now.
* Re-mixing and mashing old vinyl tunes into each other on Cool Edit Pro.
* Rabbit Proof Fence. Go, just go.

How could I have possibly forgotten how brilliant 'Junk Yard' by the Birthday Party and 'Pirates' by Rickie Lee Jones were? How have I survived without them for so long? Can you tell I'm sitting on the floor amongst a pile of vinyl squealing with delight at the clicks and pops on 25 year old records?

Like Alan said, it’s terrible when you want to post but have nothing to say. And so, in the spirit of laziness, here’s a list of stuff which particularized this past week:

* Crazy busy at work despite not being paid enough to do it

* Diana had one. Here’s mine, my rock

* To friends, and long may they continue to be

* Short back and sides

* The warmth of vinyl, illustrated by a new phono pre-amp

* Transport crisis. Give them 40% Tony.

* Barry

* Waterproofs, everyday this week

* Only 200 12” copies of Bjorks new song exist and I have one

* Saturday is 12 hours away.............

Manhattan spread out before us...................


"did you remember to turn the iron off at home?"

My dog has cancer in his mouth and my best friend is questioning my commitment to our friendship.

Ministers and Minarets


Just like I thought, time flew. Jet lag, meetings with Ministers and dinners at the British Embassy all conspired to make the whirlwind trip simply whizz by. Good to be back. And to gifts too! Roller Coaster Tycoon 2 has sucked up most of my weekend. Bjorks Greatest Hits has entertained my ears and my husband has got us tickets to a special low-key Manic Street Preachers gig at Brixton Academy on 8 December. Hurrah! I should go away on business more often! (thanks kidda)

I'm on the red-eye to Tashkent tonight. A whirlwind visit which will hopefully pass in the blink of a snow-leopards eye. Missing you all already. But especially you.

Arrived at work this morning to discover that these had been installed over the weekend. How nice.

Just got back from watching Donnie Darko. Amazing. Brilliant. Clever. A script and a half.
Which Donnie Darko character are you? I was Gretchen (and I get to sleep with Donnie).

Ma and Pa after they discovered I was a homo!


Saw '28 Days Later' last night. Like Darren said, as we dashed from multiplex to car in a shocking downpour, "it was a good ITV drama but a poor cinema experience" ('Chimera' anyone?). True. The scenes shot on digital video were blurry and colour washed (remember how good DV can look? see '24 Hour Party people') and the script was, as Darren said, very ITV after the watershed. Good stuff included seeing London streets totally deserted, zombies running faster than Linford and the sly little homage to Romero's 'Dawn of the Dead' (which takes place in a Budgens supermarket instead of a huge shopping mall). Better than 'The Beach' or 'A Life Less Ordinary' though. C'mon Danny, 3 stinkers and 2 winners, get ya finger out!
We watched 'Wild Things' on dvd when we got home. Much better. And you get to see Kevin Bacons cock!

I've been off work today. My boss gave me the day off as I'm off to Uzbekistan next Tuesday for four days. I've got to take a Tory MP and show him how a Government should NOT be run. Oh! silly me, he already knows that.

Been painting all day. The oven has now vanished (see below). Now the walls are pure white, just like a very small art gallery but with no pictures. Have you any idea how long it takes to get all of the paint out of a sheepskin roller? Frickin ages.

Did I mention that Jimmy Corkhill was in the next room to us in our New York hotel? He's a bummer you know.

Death To Cool
Shoreditch Twat is on TV right now. Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ironic. And funny!
Oh how we cheered when 'Nick' Lavelle (read James) was killed by the sniper. Hurrah!

Happy Halloween!
This is my Mum and Dad on their allotment this morning.

If you go out to dinner in Western Australia make sure you only order beer to drink with your meal or this will happen:
(Thanks to well travelled Swiss Tom for this.)

Our lounge/living room/dining-room-stroke-TV-room/comfy room/sitting room/drawing room/salon was painted on Sunday. Pewter it said on the tin. Under the harsh lights of the DIY store it looked like a nice cool modern shade. On the walls of our sitting room it looked dark grey. Not very attractive. We wasted a whole Sunday painting. Sore limbs and paint in the hair by 8pm but we hoped it would grow on us. I came downstairs on Monday morning and walked into the grey room and stopped dead in my tracks. The room looked like the inside of an oven. Or a jail cell in a bad, ‘wobbly-sets’ TV movie. Or Billy Mitchells flat in Eastenders.
We endured Monday evening TV (Six Feet Under and The Sopranos) in the grey room but instead of lingering over the studly James Gandolfini my eyes kept wandering over the grey walls causing me huge waves of despair.
Tuesday night saw me back at the DIY store purchasing brilliant white emulsion (which was the original colour before Sunday). The ovens days are numbered.

The House of Spellcnut
Very strange! And I was not consulted! Courtesy of Mike. Can I now join McQueen and McCartney at Gucci?

New York Stories.
I know where Woody Allen and Diana Ross live.

I also know that:

a Boeing 777 can fly at 710 mph

the view of Manhattan from a yellow cab before entering the Queens/Midtown tunnel can take your breath away

a walk in Central Park on a sunny Sunday morning with my boyfriend and our friend Rob is very agreeable for the soul

you can bump into old friends while cd shopping

those old friends will get you drunk in a Times Square tavern

you will have a NYC sized hangover till the sun goes down the next day

the sun going down over New Jersey viewed from atop the Empire State Building is an extraordinary sight

tickets to a top Broadway show can be bought at 100 bucks a pop

top Broadway show ‘Hairspray’ is indeed fantastic

the movie ‘Rules of Attraction’ is dreadful

the Metropolitan Museum of Art has a much better gift shop than the Guggenheim

afternoon tea at the Plaza is only 30 bucks

three pairs of Old Navy khakis is never enough

a brown stone in Chelsea is a great place to stay for a week

I couldn’t live in a brown stone in Chelsea if I lived in NYC

I’m not buffed or tanned enough to live in a brown stone in Chelsea

you can buy a ‘home enema’ in a drug store

you can’t buy paracetamol in a drug store

the Museum of Sex is very unsexy

the insult ‘bummer’ means very little to a NYC bummer

after at least ten visits in the last twenty years I never tire of being a tourist here.

I shall be out of town on urgent business for the next week. Listen to this while I'm away please. It's my own composition and reminds me of dark autumn days before a storm, of piles of swept leaves and dogs disturbing children and of dented bins rattling down a street in slow motion. Be safe everyone, back in a week.

Well said.
"The vast majority of weblogs are amateur and will stay amateur, because a medium where someone can publish globally for no cost is ideal for those who do it for the love of the thing. Rather than spawning a million micro-publishing empires, weblogs are becoming a vast and diffuse cocktail party, where most address not 'the masses' but a small circle of readers, usually friends and colleagues. This is mass amateurization, and it points to a world where participating in the conversation is its own reward."

There aren't too many women I want to sit opposite on the tube and stare at but she is one of them. Fascinating. And he has met her! Impressed I was.

(Update: He hasn't met her at all! It was all an elaborate plan to impress me! Tut tut Mr J. And me a married man too!)

The three little pigs are off to

this Saturday for a week. We want to see this.

Barneys here we come!

Thats me in red.

Just got back from the movies. Went to see 'My Little Eye' which was ok. I loved the fact that it was shot on cheap DV cameras and that the set designer seemed to take inspiration for the 'grungy' looking house from spellcnut towers. I didn't care a fuck that they all got killed (apologies if anyone was planning on seeing the movie) and none of them were particularly sexy so they probably deserved it. Reviews promised scary but to be honest 'Juwanna Mann' looks a lot more frightening.
Last night at Wembley we saw A-Ha. Who were nice. Not being as big a fan as Darren or Martin left me in the position of only knowing 3 or 4 songs but when they played them I tapped my foot approvingly. We were quite near the front (amid the screaming 30-something ladies/fags) so at least Morten was pleasing to look at for a couple of hours (in fetching beige leather trousers no less). 'Hunting High and Low' was particularly memorable. £10 to park the car, c*nts! (Wembley not A-Ha).

Notorious Norwegian homosexuals

We're off to Wembley tonight to see A-Ha. We'd heard a rumour that Brother Beyond had reformed to support A-Ha on this stadium-nostalgia-fest so we snapped up some tickets pretty sharpish. We've since learned that this was a cruel hoax played on us by Martin who merely wanted a ride in our car to Wembley. A-Ha were the Nordic pretty boys sporting bleached and slashed denims and rippling muscles who very nearly became the biggest thing of the whole decade and were certainly untouchable in terms of squeal factor and hitmaking during one six-month period, finally knocking Duran Duran off the pedestal they had clung on to for years. Anecdotes of how this unassuming trio had to live in a dingy Oslo bedsit eating nothing but mousetrap cheese are legendary, as 'hunky' God-squad crooner Morten Harket, alleyway-faced guitarist and chief scribe Pal (pronounced 'Paul' and with a circle over the 'a', but I can't do that with my keyboard) Waaktaar and curlytop keyboardist Mags Furuholmen had to wait, pennyless and pissed off, for their flagship song "Take On Me" to be released for the FIFTH time before MTV showed the video and it rocketed up to No.2. That video, although almost too 80s for the 80s, was way ahead of its time and remains technically one of the greatest made, with the tearful story of how a girl enjoying a coffee in a caff while reading a comic finds herself being drawn into the story by the Morten as he battles against a bunch of gay motorbike boys. Happy ending ahoy (except for the cafe owner, as the girl disappeared without paying for her frothy coffee) as the dismal girl watches Morten batter himself against the walls of her unfeasibly large bedroom (ripped off from Ken Russells 'Altered States'), sweating and screaming (and yet not waking her parents at all) in order to shake off his inky cartoon existence and join the human race. The song told far less of a story than the flick, but it was more than enough to make A-Ha the biggest band in the UK for the next 18 months. Hit after hit followed, including their solitary No.1 "The Sun Always Shines On TV", the oddball “Train Of Thought” and the genuinely poignant "Hunting High And Low", which also monikered their first album. The domination continued through redoubtable pop catchies, namely the ultra-drummed “I’ve Been Losing You” and the awesome “Cry Wolf” until they went weird and pretentious with “Manhattan Skyline” which was notably their first single not to reach the Top 10 and suffered from Waaktaar’s over-confidence with the English language. There followed the worst-ever Bond theme for the worst-ever Bond film "The Living Daylights" in the death throes of 1987 and the rest of the decade was spent just missing the Top 10 before the 90s kicked in and Waaktaar made them all ludicrously aloof with songs like "Seemingly Nonstop July" which the public duly ignored. Their 1990 cover of "Crying In The Rain" was awesome, but from '89 onwards they had become a single-every-two-years band of what-might-have-been proportions, which continues to this day. Their place in pop folklore is eternal, however, thanks to that first video which is still more than watchable and admirable with age.

And so the 2002 riding season comes to a polite stop in the station, seatbelts are unfastened and lap bars are raised. Here are my top 5 rollercoasters experienced this year:
1. GE Force - Holiday Park, Germany.
Without a doubt the greatest steel coaster in Europe and probably the world. On a sunny Saturday during the World Cup this baby was flying through the trees like shit off a shovel. The most fun you can have with your pants pulled up.
2. Gwazi - Busch Gardens, Florida (see pic above).
A massive mess of twisted timber that reaches awesome speeds on banked corners that look highly illogical and extremely deadly. Not for children.
3. The Hulk - Islands of Adventure, Florida.
If this beauty was entered for the Turner Prize it would win. Stunning to look at and staggering to ride. It's green, it's mean and ever so dramatic. Like me.
4. Rock 'n' Roller Coaster - Disney Studios, Paris. (pic taken before ride was put into a dark building)
Heaps better than it's cousin in Florida. Smooth and fast with a breathtaking launch.
5. Grand National - Pleasure Beach, Blackpool.
For air-time there's no better woody around today. Older than my Mum and Dad but aging so much better.

Thanks to Darren for riding all these with me. Next coasters should be LA and Vegas in Spring 2003.

He's got his own business deconstructing classic bikes and cars in California. He's about to marry this porn star. He's got two kids. He's the star of a new show on the Discovery Channel called 'Monster Garage'. He owns two pit bull terriers. His skin ink is marvellous. Thank you Jockohomo for bringing this stud to my attention.

I returned from the frozen North to gifts from him. A lovely t-shirt from hip shop 'Plum' with a decal of a graffiti artist spray painted onto the shirt. He's an eye for gifts has our kid. Actually it wasn't cold at all in Northumberland or Blackpool. Indian summer they call it. Took my coat but didn't need it. Two days with my parents passed uneventfully. Two days in Blackpool passed in a fury of house hunting and rollercoaster riding. Has no one in Blackpool heard of the house doctor? I viewed dump after dump, moving from room to room making the obligatory complimentary remarks; "ooooooooo, I love what you've done with that woodchip wallpaper!". Saw one excellent home in a smart area of the North Shore so may go back for another peek soon. Friday morning saw me running round the Pleasure Beach riding all the coasters (13 beauties) in an hour and a half before my lunchtime train to London. It was a lovely sunny morning and the views of Blackpool from the top of the Big One were stunning.
Twas lovely to be back in London this weekend. Got drunk last night at the local dump of a gay bar which was packed to the gills for Pam Ann. Except Pam had cancelled earlier in the day but the doorman was failing to point this out to people as they payed £4 to get in. Much bemused looks when Paula Pure (ex Kajagoogoo backing vocalist, oh the dizzy heights of showbiz) walked out to find a packed crowd expecting 'chicken or fish?' jokes from Pam. What a dump.
Saw 'One Hour Photo' today. Disappointed. I got a bit excited when they showed a trailer for Danny Boyles new zombie movie '28 Days Later'. Any 30 somethings out there who remember a BBC TV show called 'The Survivors' from the 70's? Looks a bit like that.

And so it came to pass that the Bengal Curry House (St James St, Walthamstow) were unable to seat 5 of us last night due to a large party of badly dressed, mouth breathers. We backtracked to Khans (also St James St, Walthamstow) where we got the last table. We always walk straight past Khans whenever curry beckons as it’s quite new to the block. Plus it doesn’t have lots of red velvet banquettes, chandeliers and murals of tea pickers so therefore always seemed ‘fake’. Khans proved to be a very refreshing change. Lot’s of blond wood, geometric modern art on the walls and new dishes on the menu that tickled our fancies. Sitting round the table with me and Darren (Darren and Dave 2001-) were Tom (Tom and Dave, 1985-1995), Lucio (Lucio and Dave, 1996-1999) and Martin (Darren and Martin, 1993-2000). A warm glow came over me (nothing to do with the chilli-chicken dish) as I looked around at everyone chatting, drinking and eating and I thought to myself "I love these people and I love my life with them". A kind of corny moment but one which made me feel good.
Tom stumped up for the bill which was nice. He’s in town for the weekend from Zurich so lock up your sons (actually, lock up their Dads too, just to be on the safe side).
At the local dump of a gay bar later that evening Crystal Waide attempted to entertain the masses but failed miserably. What a dump.
I’m off to Northumberland tomorrow on a big fast train. Haven’t seen my family for a few months so thought I better stick my head round the door. Then on Wednesday I’m traveling from Newcastle to Blackpool for 2 nights to do some property research. Time for a 2nd home by the sea we think. Blackpool? How common! How very ‘us’!

I'd love to say that I wrote this but I can't. Mr TD has put into words my thoughts on TRUE LOVE and I thank him.
For Darren:

I believe in true love.
Not the idealised hearts-and-flowers romantic kind. I’m talking about true love. The stuff that’s based on trust, honesty and respect. The stuff that doesn’t have to struggle to fit into pre-conceived notions of what true love is. The slow-burning embers of long-term companionship, rather than the quickly consumed fires of delirious passion. Love that is freely given and freely received, in equal measure, so that it becomes entirely instinctive – second nature. Love that isn’t forever analysing itself and self-consciously declaring itself. Oh yes, I believe in all of that, to the bottom of my soul.

Oh, one more thing Mr TD: could you post all 49 MP3's again please just for a week so that I can download them all and put them onto a cd. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese! I really NEED to hear C-Bank - OneMore Shot again soon.

'24 Hour Party People', which we saw recently and loved, is shot on digital video. The footage is at once a miracle and an annoyance. Anything shot indoors looks pretty good. Anything shot under pink disco lights looks amazing. And anything shot outside, with real light, looks like pixellated garbage. But there are a lot of advantages to digital video here. For starters, the camera really moves. You're always on the dance floor with Tony Wilson; you swirl around the druggy immersion of the Hacienda; the real archival stuff, like the Sex Pistols footage, blends right in. I gotta say, I'm all for movies being made on digital video and released in cinemas. Digital video movies are getting better and cheaper all the time. I see no reason why in five years I shouldn't have access to the gear to make movies just as bad as the ones George Lucas makes.

The Vines are fucking useless.
There isn't any critique of what 'fashionable' folk are doing nowadays. People are genuinely worried about looking cool and trendy to the point where they are scared to say anything in case it's perceived as not being cool and trendy. That's why there isn't really any current dissent about anything to do with youth culture at the moment. Christ, even my Dad wants a pair of Gravis trainers. I disagree with all this so much that I'm happy to take the piss out of things I actually like just because nobody else will. It's important to question things at all levels and have a laugh about it at the same time (those 'Shoreditch Sucks Cocks' t-shirts were very unpopular, wonder why?).

Evisu means wanker in Japanese, apparently. There you go.

Chilly Sunday morning in East London, bath running, coffee cooking and bowels grumbling. Me and Darren gorra pick up Rob at 10am. We're off to Brick Lane and Shoreditch for a mosey round. What a bunch of cool fuckers we are.


A Shoreditch Twat.

The two day visit to Brighton with colleaugues was great. We bonded over spreadsheets, press strategies, fish 'n' chips and seagull shit. I managed to talk Daryl and Mick into riding the Crazy Mouse with me (that's not us above, though that is the Crazy Mouse). It looks like a fairly tame family coaster at the end of the pier with round cars painted in child friendly colours. However, this baby has a kick. The tight corners are taken at a fair lick and are about 80ft in the air hanging over the ocean. Then half way through the ride the cars start to spin freely making those sudden drops and tight corners very unpredictable but highly entertaining. (tip: ride before lunch!).

Off to Brighton tomorrow with work for a couple of days. Team building/morale boosting type of stuff. Bag 'o' shite! Still, better than going to work for two days. At least I get along with my colleagues and have a laugh with them and the sea air will do us all good. Back to normal on Thursday. Missing you already.........

Saturday morning, cup of tea, Marlboro menthol, McAlmont and Butler on the stereo, hot bath, bf blogging on his machine next to mine, supermarket shopping looming, warm chicken salad upcoming, Medal of Honour virtually completed, Bourne Identity watched (very good brainless fun), best friends in Amsterdam this weekend, London grey and chilly and calling out "come play with me". We'll see.

Yesterday I was sitting outside the building where I work enjoying a Marlboro Menthol. A pigeon walked past with a slice of cucumber stuck on its back. I laughed out loud and I swear he gave me a dirty look.

As I approach 40 like a bullet train and see my contemporaries worrying about middle age, grey hair, spare tires and their greedy longing for those lustful days of youth, I worry that I'm not worrying more. Is this because I still feel like I'm 21? Is it because I never really liked the 'company' of younger men? (yes yes, I know Darren is 4 years younger than me, stop interrupting). Or is it my staunch refusal to buy any nice furniture, curtains etc and behave like an 'adult' in our house? Whatever it is I hope it continues to keep me feeling like a randy 20 something with an obsession for rollercoasters and scooters and city holidays and punk rock and weird squigly electronica and French cinema and heaps of other stuff, forever.
While we're on the subject, this piece is really very good (thank you Swish). YOU WILL IDENTIFY.

The Canadian military is using a gay fitness show to train the troops. The Department of National Defence has purchased 26 episodes of "Urban Fitness." The series, which is made by Canada's PrideVision, the world's first gay TV network, has the motto: "Feeling fit. And doing it in style." The show will be shown by closed circuit broadcast to the troops in Europe and the Middle East. Whatever next? (answers in the comments box please)

(as Swish so eloquently said) In an autumnal mood, I read this(September 10th), and tears pricked my eyes. Thinking of BJ in NYC.

We watched 'Together' and 'Sur Mes Levres' on Saturday. A Swedish film and a French film. 'Together' was such a warm movie despite being set in Malmo in the winter. It made us laugh and cry and want to play football in the snow while listening to Abba. 'Sur Mes Levres' was a repeat viewing for us as it is so brilliant. It's the kind of thriller Hollywood would love to make but never will. Not a drop of dialogue is spilled or wasted. Expect to see the Hollywood remake in a couple of years with Julia Roberts trying desperately to be Emanuel Devos.

On Sunday we rose early, prepared a picnic, picked up our friend Martin at the station and then drove to Skegness in Lincolnshire. We had waited two months since the official opening of Jubilee Odyssey to ride it. All the early glitches have now been ironed out and it was running like clockwork (or 'like shit off a shovel' as my Dad would say).
We took a ride on the Millenium coaster first as we hadn't ridden that either. Nice, smooth and fast but not very exciting. Martin was very brave as he doesn't really like coasters or heights but still took the plunge. He was dizzy and a bit discombobulated after we got off the Millenium coaster so we waited a while before getting on Jubilee.
When we did though it was fantatstic. Very steep first drop of 170ft into the worlds largest vertical loop. Extreme G forces coming out of the loop and then into an enormous cobra roll. I won't bore you with any more technical stuff other than to say that it is a masterpiece of engineering. And bloody good fun.
We took a walk on the beach after leaving the coasters, then strolled round town, had dinner and left the seaside at dusk.


Darren and Martin with one of Millenium Coasters loops in the background


We parked the car, got out and this is what we saw - Jubilee Odyssey.


Me and Martin (I'm the one with his eyes shut). Darren did well and managed to capture both trains in the picture. 'Jubilee' leaving the station and 'Millenium' at the top of the first drop.

Why Six Feet Under?
Well, in 1665 the 'Black Death' (bubonic plague) killed 65,000 Londoners and so the Lord Mayor of olde Londinium created new 'rules' for disposing of the dead. Shallow burials were now 'out' and 'in' came these new fangled graves that were to be at least six feet deep. Since then this depth has been the standard.
Also round about this time fleas and body lice were rampant and so most people shaved their body hair. The upper classes were not happy with their new bald pubic look and so the merkin was invented, a triangle of 'real' fur that they stuck 'down there' to hide their embarrassment. As if a stick on fanny wig isn't embarrassing enough. 100 years later the word was adopted by soldiers to describe the mop that they used to clean out their canons.

Darren has found a great way to keep that 'special place' squeaky clean. Every bathroom should have some.

We went to see Insomnia last night. Very good. Nice scenery. I won't bore you with my thoughts or a mini-review. Two very sexy supporting actors. See above.

It turned into a Friday night retail frenzy. A simple visit to HMV on Oxford street resulted in a serious dent to my bank balance. Shoulda known, never learn, what a sucker. I always fall under the spell in these 'multi-entertainment' shops, I'm obviously drawn to the bright lights and pure oxygen that they pump into the shop to keep everyone alert and excited. Part of the problem was arriving before Darren had finished work. He would have kept my manic shopping in check. But I had an hour to kill so I picked up a shopping basket and started browsing. Before you can say "three cd's for 20 quid" that basket was full.
Upstairs in the DVD department, away from the insanity of the CD sale, I took them all out and hid them behind a box set of 'Only Fools and Horses'. I kept the two cd's that I actually wanted in the basket (neither of them in the sale). Very proud of myself. So, if you find the first six Clash albums while looking for volume 8 of Only Fools and Horses in HMV on Oxford Street then do me a favour and get 'em for me (pay you back, honest).
The next problem was the DVD selection. Too much to choose from. Which is his fault as he's sort of responsible for what's on those racks. Anyway, I fled up and down the aisles shovelling movies into my basket. I was putting stuff in there that I'd seen before, stuff I'd missed at the movies, stuff I'd heard was good, stuff with stickers on proclaiming '5* in Empire magazine' and stuff which I already owned on VHS. I was a dream shopper, a shining example of how the sales techniques have been honed to perfection in order to trap folk like me on payday. I was stunned. Like a rabbit in the headlights.
In the relative calm of the games department I came to my senses and stared in horror at my bulging basket. Again I emptied everything out except what I actually wanted and hid the offending movies behind a display for the PlayStation 2 games console. Which is where I got into really big trouble.
The item I actually went to the shop to buy was a game called 'Medal of Honour' for my PC. I found it, read the box and put it in the basket. And thats when it all went a bit pear shaped. They switched on the 'homing beacon' and it began to draw me near. Nearer and nearer until I was standing in front of the PlayStation 2 games console listening to a voice in my head saying "you know you want one, just put it in the basket, what harm can it do?, it's payday, thats what you go to work for innit?" So I put it in the basket. I took out Medal of Honour and replaced it with the PlayStation 2 version. The damage was done. There was no other department to escape to where I could gather my thoughts and re-group my troops. They had me cornered. So I surrendered and handed over my basket to the smiling man behind the counter. "It's a fair cop guv" I muttered as I shot my wad (of money) into his hand.
So, we walked out of HMV with a big bag full of:

A SonyPlaystation 2 games console,
'Medal of Honour',
An 8mb memory card,
'Harry He's Here to Help' on DVD,
'Together' on DVD,
'Biggie and Tupac' on DVD,
'A Rush Of Blood To The Head' by Coldplay on CD,
'Bring it Back' by McAlmont and Butler on CD.

I've been like a dog with two cocks all weekend. The PS2 machine is excellent and 'Medal of Honour' is stunning. The machine is in the bedroom as it's also a DVD player so we were able to watch this on Friday night before lights out!