Valentine Suicide

That difficult second novel.

2011-08-12T08:35:00.004+01:00

The Bleakening by Valentine Suicide

Prologue

Flickering in and out, it pulsated. Pulsated, darkened. It darkened, divided. It divided again. Then, unaccountably bleakened.

Chapter One - An Ordinary Guy

……..and custard legs!" I finished, slamming the door in her penis.

That's the kind of guy I am. Just ordinary. Nothing special about me. From the eight ordinary years I spent as a musician, only quitting after my fourth Mercury Prize nominated platinum album. When the lack of integrity in the music industry, and an unfortunate accident that broke my triangle forced me to quit.

It allowed me to join the SAS as an ordinary but hard soldier where I won about ten wars, before becoming the lead-pilot in The Red Arrows. I also had to leave this behind, following a mid-air accident. We were doing that Red Arrows manoeuvre "Whooshing past each other dead-fast and that" when my wing touched the female pilot coming the the other way. I had to eject into her cockpit, and save the little lady. I couldn't live down the gratitude in her tear be-soaked eyes, or the sexual harassment tribunal. So I quit.

All these things had allowed me to develop a certain set of skills. Which is why the government came to me when they needed help with The Bleakening.

Chapter Two - The Coming Of The Bleakening

The Bleakening came. No-one knew what is was or what to do with it. Not even me, and ex-soldier pilot/rock star.

Chapter Four - The Bleakening Reveals It's Deadly Purpose

The Bleakening revealed it's purpose, which was to kill people. I still didn’t know what to do, so The Royal Institute of Stones and Bleakening sent a beautiful meddling female Professor of Bleakening to help me. We didn’t get on, but had to work together for the good of mankind.

Chapter Three - Love and The End of The Bleakening

After working together, me and the beautiful meddling female Professor of Bleakening realise we love each other, and so find a way to defeat The Bleakening using the power of ordinariness, flight and the iPhone anti-Bleakening app. Mankind is saved and we live happily ever after…

Or do we? And what happened to Chapter Three?

I love you, Rod Taylor..

2011-07-02T08:48:00.003+01:00

Hurrah! I've invented a time machine. Yes that's right, A TIME MACHINE! Just what man's been waiting for. Now we can all travel in time (subject to a large fee) using my magical device. It had couple of minor niggles. First of all it can only go forward to time. The second problem with it is it takes an hour to go forward an hour. Bookings now being taken.

- Posted using BlogPress from my brainwaves.

Tennis Update #2

2011-06-30T23:12:00.006+01:00

I've had literally no requests to prove my bold statements regarding sound-alikes.

So bending under the weight of such demands, I will demonstrate.

One person:- (Click)

Another person:- (Click)

Where are you going? Come back!

Tennis update

2011-06-30T21:57:00.005+01:00

Have you ever noticed the similarities between low-output author Donna Tartt (how many books in ten years?) and former Tennis champion Tracy Austin? They ARE identical! *

It's all I've been able to think about this week.

*Obviously I'm talking about their speaking voices. I'm surprised more people aren't talking about it. Even more surprised at the number of people who walk away from me tutting and rolling their eyes.

Roll up!

2011-06-30T14:32:00.001+01:00

In the spirit of Wimbledon, I am going to be holding prestigious music/sporting events in my home. Please feel free to queue and camp in my front garden overnight ahead of these events, only to be told that there's not enough room for you to get in . Enjoy!

- Posted using BlogPress from my brainwaves.

The novel wot I wrote

2010-11-02T21:19:00.004Z

The Stones by Valentine Suicide

Chapter One - The Coming Of The Stones

The Stones came. No-one knew what they were or what to do with them. Not even me, a scientist at The Royal Institute of Stones.

Chapter Two - The Stones Reveal Their Deadly Purpose

The Stones revealed their purpose, which was to kill people. I still didn’t now what to do, so The Royal Institute of Stones sent a beautiful meddling female Professor of Stones to help me. We didn’t get on, but had to work together for the good of mankind.

Chapter Three - Love and The End of The Stones

After working together, me and the beautiful meddling female Professor of Stones realise we love each other, and so find a way to defeat The Stones using slug pellets and a rock hammer. Mankind is saved and we live happily ever after...Or do we?

VS- celebrity correspondent..

2010-08-19T18:10:00.009+01:00

I see Welsh actress Llindsay Llohan is defying doctors, who have only given her "months to live".

Look Magazine informs me that if she continues using the lethal cocktail of drugs and alcohol, she could be gone within three months. I assume if she takes more, it could be sooner. Or perhaps if she takes less, for a while, it could stretch out for maybe seven or eight months. I also understand doctor's fear she could go tomorrow if she gets hit by a large vehicle, or is involved in a violent robbery and/or fatal shooting, or is bitten by a rabid animal of some description.

She may also have to go back to jail, if she commits more crimes.

Snake oil

2010-08-19T12:33:00.007+01:00

I don't get coffee. It's a fairly banal drink, and the vast array of variations appear to me to be just indifferent versions of the same blandness. I don't know what a 'good' cup of coffee is. I've drunk various supposed exotic long milky versions and short dark types, but don't find them any more agreeable than a spoonful out of jar. There's isn't the variety and depth that exists with beer and wine. I also don't believe I've lost a minute's sleep or had a moment's hyperactivity after too many cups. I dislike McCoffee shop culture, what so special about bloody Starbucks? It's not a lifestyle, it's a leg resting opportunity for shoppers.

Brown bagging it

2010-08-16T10:06:00.002+01:00

I work in an environment where it can be sometimes be difficult to get away. We have problems to fix and we're up against the clock. Trouble is if I don't eat things, I can get all weird and shaky. I think there may be a medical term for this, but I'm too weird and shaky to look it up.

So I've taken to making a packed lunch. Something I haven't done since childhood, when I became adverse to school meals. It a bit dull though. A plain ham sandwich on brown bread, some grapes and a packet of ready salted. What can I do to liven it up? Apart from driving to McDonalds and adding a cheeseburger.

Lawks..

2010-08-16T00:47:00.003+01:00

..it's a million o'clock on Sunday night. I still can't bring myself to admit that the weekend is over, and I have to sleep and go to work. What's wrong with me?

Music for pleasure

2010-08-14T13:40:00.006+01:00

I'm enjoying the new Arcade Fire album immensely. Seems a little more accessible and immediate than Neon Bible. How odd that band so seemingly obscure, should become so huge. Refreshing in an industry where 'artists' are ushered into studios by Simon Cowell to make money, rather than music. I also have tickets to their show in Birmingham, which is in an arena. I hate arena gigs, but needs must.

I've also rediscovered the album 'Ignorance' by Boo Hewerdine, which I bought in 1992, and loved. I then lent it to my sister, and came across again it last month. Lovely.

He has a nice blog. Which is here.

So it goes..

2010-08-14T13:22:00.002+01:00

So it's that day of the year again. Time to offer up a prayer.

Dear Jeebus, please allow us to win the Premier League this season. Or at least finish in the top six. Or at least maybe get one or two unexpected victories against the bigger clubs. Or at least have some success against the clubs around us in the lower half of the table. Or at least achieve a couple wins. Or at least, maybe, give a couple of decent performances. Or at least that allow the team to try as hard as they can. Or at least that the perpetual whining shitbag who has been seated behind me for years has decided to call it a day. Amen.

Good point..

2010-08-13T15:58:00.001+01:00

Can you update a blog from a mobile, and add photos?

You read right..

2010-08-13T10:50:00.000+01:00

That is four posts in a day. I'm prolific.

E-Reader

2010-08-13T10:49:00.001+01:00

E-Reader
Originally uploaded by valsuicide

I'm a fan. I mean, what's not to like? I can take a huge selection of books in something that fits in my pocket.
I know it's never going to take the place of actual books.
Apparently sales of e-Books have just surpassed sales of hardbacks, which does surprise me, and leads to the problem with the concept. New popular e-reads are more expensive than hardbacks? How can they justify that? They don't even have to make anything..

As if we have a choice...

2010-08-13T10:32:00.001+01:00

St Ives

2010-08-13T10:12:00.004+01:00

St Ives, Cornwall. A beautiful place. If only no people ever went there. I feel the same about Stonehenge, and Clovelly. St Ives has evil killer seagulls, though.

Hello!

2010-06-10T00:34:00.002+01:00

Sorry (why, who cares?) not many posts recently, or imminently. I was on a bus in Oxford a couple of days ago, and I got to thinking about that old Morse episode, 'Last Bus To Woodstock', and the actor who played a troubled young man in it. This lead me to this.

Anyone remember it?

Still here...

2010-04-26T21:14:00.003+01:00

Though still without the urge to write anything much at all, I did come across this well meaning, but plodding George Harrison rock and roll tribute, which comes to life with the appearance of the man in the red hat. I love the delight on Dhani Harrison's face at his antics.

Does this count as a blog post?

Bog etiquette

2010-03-23T22:58:00.003Z

Personally, I don’t go to the toilet ever. It’s dirty and uncouth, and I’m rather an antiseptic individual, so I’ve given it up. Obviously I have to enter public conveniences seventy or eighty times a day to wash my hands. Over the last year, I’ve noticed a increasing number of occupants of cubicles either on their mobile phones, or talking loudly to themselves. Obviously if it’s the latter, they can’t help it and you should politely wait for them to finish their monologue and business, before quietly having them sectioned. If its the former, you should kick the door in and shout, “WHAT YOU’RE DOING IS WRONG!” into their straining faces. Surely no one wants to be on the telephone, having a conversation which may be punctuated by the sounds of another human's evacuations?

Coastin'

2010-03-12T00:03:00.002Z

What was I saying? Oh yes, rollercoasters. I love ‘em. I mean what’s not to like? They’re a really safe way of scaring yourself half to death, and that’s good for living human beings in my worthless opinion. Jumping out of planes is a really stupid way of scaring yourself demented. Yes, I’m sure it’s very safe statistically, but I’ve always been a bit slapdash at packing, and if I make mistake or forget to put my lunchbox in my backpack, I just go hungry, not splat. I digress..

When we were younger (early twenties), we’d occasionally camp at Drayton Manor Park, which had (has?) a nice friendly quiet campsite. We’d while away Friday and Saturday night drinking listening to music (responsibly), and spend the daylight hours wandering around the grounds, looking at nature and generally feeling at one with the universe.

On Sunday mornings, we’d awake with hangovers from beer and general substance abuse, have a monstrous fried breakfast and wander down and ride the Shockwave rollercoaster, before the tourists arrived. If you managed not to throw up on the other passengers, the weekend was deemed to be a success for all. Especially the kids who’d just arrived to ride the ‘coaster.

The Shockwave was ok, but you have move elsewhere in Staffordshire, to Alton Towers, for my favourites, both now deceased. In the number two slot was The Black Hole, but my all time fave was The Thunderlooper. Seen here in 1991..

And a lovingly recreated ‘point of view’ computer simulation..

Evil Zod

2010-01-09T21:31:00.005Z

I was pondering the film Superman II this afternoon, as I often do in the early part of a new decade. You remember the one, it has its seeds in Superman: the Movie. Evil Kryptonite General Zod (Terence Stamp) and his henchpersons are imprisoned in a cube and banished forever into deep space, only to be accidentally freed by Superman, in what can only described as an act of utter incompetence.

In Superman II, they fly to earth and wreak havoc, whilst Superman is laid up with the Swine Flu, or some such.

As I wandered the snowy lanes, I pondered how the poor doomed beings of Krypton would feel if they found out that an evil being they thought they had exiled to an awful eternity, had been granted freedom, and the ability to oppress and create misery for millions.

How odd, then, that I should have that EXACT feeling when I returned from my walk and noticed that dull shrill Brummie, Cat ‘not actually a cat’ Deeley, is back on Saturday night TV.

League of Gentlemen

2010-01-07T23:47:00.004Z

When I was at school and electronic music was quite the post punk novelty I didn’t a have much money for buying records. This was quite some decades before the all you can eat excesses for the digital download generation of the last few years. I managed to do something right at school, for a change, and my father deiced to reward me with a couple of albums. One was Replicas by Tubeway Army, which was great at the time, and Travelogue by the Human League which was great at the time and is still great today.

When I could scrape together the money, I got Reproduction, but it was a disappointment. What seemed like an age later they split and re-formed with girls who could barely sing, and made an album that was such a sell-out I gave up on them, disgusted. I went to see them, very close to Christmas in 1981, when they were number one with ‘Don’t You Want Me’. I was still disgusted, and refused to enjoy myself watching them at their peak.

Looking back, I was wrong, and obviously Dare is a classic in a different light. It’s still not quite for me, though I’m very fond of ‘Open Your Heart’ and 'Love Action'.

Whenever this pops on a playlist it takes me right back. Aged about fourteen, putting a record on I had heard of only by reputation. This, the first track, and ‘WXJL Tonight’ the closing track are timeless classics.

Twenty ten

2010-01-05T19:55:00.004Z

Hello?

Am I still here?

Oh yes, apparently I am.

Well, happy new year to you all (both). I'm sorry there hasn't been much too read on here lately, though not as sorry as YOU are, I bet. It's just that I've become rather lazy, and other things are holding my attention better.

There will be some new posts shortly, if I can just get past the 'Why on earth would anyone care that you think that' element that overcomes me every time I start a post.

Not..

2009-11-02T22:03:00.001Z

..before time.

Killing time

2009-10-20T00:24:00.008+01:00

I’ve never been the biggest fan of Echo and the Bunnymen, but in my new mindset of not saying no to gigs, I found myself packed in at the local smallish venue, awaiting the arrival of McCulloch and co.

They’ve delivered a fair few pleasant enough alt-pop hits over the years, and one bonafide classic (Back of Love) in my opinion. I had a couple of their early albums, but found them disappointing. My sister had also been something of a fan, but following a gig a few years ago, declared them ‘ a spent force’. Other reviews detailed the decline in McCulloch voice. It would be fair to say I had low-ish expectations of the evening.

As usual, I was wrong. When they ambled onto the dark smokey Wolverhampton stage at just after nine, I found myself pleased to see them. I continued to warm to them throughout the set. It was hard to see a great deal of them. Obviously they’re not as well presented and beautiful as they were in their youth (who is?), but they know this. And much of the gig played out with the band in gloom, or silhouette , which I love. I like a bit of distance between me and the band. In fact, the less I see of them the better. Mac’s voice sounded fine and strong to me an the band tight and together, as they cantered through their back catalogue.

I had to pop out halfway through the gig for a ‘comfort break’. Bad form, I know, but I’m old and can’t stay the course as I used to. When I returned, to the exact spot I had been standing, a small, excitable, slightly unstable looking woman took offence at my position, and requested that I not ‘get between her and McCulloch’. I politely pointed out that had been standing in the same place for an hour and had only popped out briefly. She wasn’t happy, so I moved a few feet to my right to try and accommodate her. A few seconds later, another urgent tap on my shoulder. ‘No! No! Yow’ve gorra keep movin’! I cor see ‘im’.

“Look”, says I, “I’ve already moved for you, I’m staying put. You can stand in front of me if you like?”

“NO!” she countered, somewhat unreasonably, Keep fookin movin’, Gew on, fook off!”

Luckily, one of my companions, a seasoned mental health professional, was on hand to assess the situation, and provide me with an immediate advice to quickly bring the situation to a swift conclusion. “Tell her to fuck right off” was all he said. Wisdom indeed, it did at least set me giggling which lasted about ten seconds, until I felt yet another frantic rap on the back. Deciding that my companion’s prescription needed to be filled, I rounded on the diminutive harpy, and was about to make several suggestions of a somewhat personal nature, when she stopped me in my tracks by asking sweetly if I would mind if she stood in front of me. “Be my guest” was all I could say.

As I warmed to the Bunnymen, Mac seemed to warm to the crowd. His banter initially was jibes in such a thick scouse accent, no one could really understand. As we progressed he softened, and began to tease the mosh pit. During an impromptu cover of ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ he good-humouredly chastised the front row as “sheep’ and taunted them gently with a chorus of 'Agadoo', as they tried to join in the ‘Doo-Dee-Doo’s’. Threatening to deprive them of ‘The Cutter’ in the encore if they didn’t behave.

I’m sure it’s all schtick, done a hundred times before, but none the worse for it.

Physically they may not be in great shape, but they’re in great shape.

Frying tonight

2009-10-04T15:30:00.008+01:00

It’s well understood that Stephen Fry is a national treasure, and his latest TV venture to re-tread the steps taken by Douglas Adams in ‘Last Chance to See’ has been most entertaining. I’ve tried to avoid ‘celebrity out of water’ type programmes, as the formats been overused in recent years. Fry’s always good value and this show, perfectly placed in the Sunday Soporific Slot, doesn’t disappoint. Slightly larky, (highlight -our presenters been tricked into believing they were in danger from a tame white rhino) I’m not sure it’s teaching us a great deal, as much of the time Stephen seems to be coo-ing at some newly discovered lizard or mammal, or breaking the odd limb whilst sidekick Mark Carwardine provides the science and says ‘fantastic’ a lot.

Carwardine is great value, and the BBC should use him more. Knowledgeable relaxed and engaging, if they’re looking to fill David Attenborough’s shoes, they could do worse.

They could fill them with Alan Titchmarsh.

Anyone can play guitar

2009-09-22T22:57:00.004+01:00

I started playing guitar in February 2008. I spent the first week of my self tuition trying desperately to pick out the chords for Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, and my guitar sounding nothing like it. I check and rechecked what the internet was telling me to play, and that my fingers were on the right strings and in the right frets, but to no avail. That first strummed C chord sounded nothing like the tuneful opening bar performed by David Gilmour. It also didn’t sound completely tuneless either. When I strummed it did sound like a viable chord. Just not the right viable chord. After a week of this I grew bored and began to put together chords that sounded half reasonable, and strum my genius compositions.

The reason I picked up a guitar up in the first place was because of dissatisfaction with the game Guitar Hero. Not displeased with the game itself, how could you be it’s a brilliant game, and getting better all the time with the recent introduction of the new Beatles element. How could anyone not want that Paul McCartney Hofner violin bass controller. My ire was raised instead by the fact that, whilst enjoying pressing the coloured buttons on my plastic Gibson Les Paul, I couldn’t help thing that being able to bring a plectrum down on real steel strings would be so much more rewarding.

This theory would, of course have been correct, if the information provided to aspiring guitarists about where to put your fingers wasn’t utterly erroneous.

It was around this time, about five weeks into my guitar odyssey, that I decided to revisit the little manual that had come with the electronic guitar tuner. It was this point a stark revelation made itself known. The tuner doesn’t know which string your playing. A green light telling you your string is in tune, needs to be correlated with another light which tells you you have tuned the right note to the right string. Some brief reconfiguration, and Wish You Were Here was soon ‘owned’.

By owned I obviously mean rattily and cack-handedly strummed, with exactly the wrong degree of fret-buzz, string muting and a complete disregard for the rules of timing, rhythm and music in general.

If I had a hammer

2009-09-21T09:26:00.002+01:00

I’m a firm believer in not having to do DIY. Gardening also looms large on my list of things to avoid, as the weekend approaches. I work a lot of hours during the week. Some weeks I have to get out of bed in the middle of the night and work unexpectedly. That’s an odd state of affairs I seem to have got myself involved in. Surprise working. It’s like musical chairs. You can can relax, have fun be happy do what you like, then the phone rings and you have to work for a indeterminate period.

I digress. I don’t want to work all week, and then come home and have to work in some other fashion, thereby denying myself my human rights to have fun and fall asleep indiscriminately . Or to leap out of chair and be ridiculous, without fear of ridicule. These things I should be able to do. Not shuffle about with lawnmowers and drills, trying to make that dry patch a little wetter, or that crooked thing a little straighter. That sort of thing is for the middle aged men that I work with. Not the middle aged men who is me.

Obviously there’s a price to paid for all this. Your house falls into a terrible state of disrepair, and you your wife complains at you for being the good for nothing low-life lazy scumbag her mother told her you were.

Luckily, these problems are easily solveable for the slacker. No-one can see the terrible state of repair of my house, because the terrible overgrown garden is in the way, and I’ve never married.

Movie Meme

2009-09-13T14:29:00.005+01:00

I borrowed this from Good Dog. I thought it might be fun to think about and make a mildly interesting post. Feel free to answer the questions yourself if you can be bothered..

01. Name a movie that you have seen more than 10 times.

Barry Levinson’s film Diner is one that immediately springs to mind, as this was a favourite of mine during the eighties. The film that launched the careers of Mickey Rourke, Kevin Bacon Ellen Barkin and ....erm.. Steve Guttenberg. I watched it again last year, and it’s lost a lot of it’s appeal. Maybe because I’m not twenty-something anymore. There are loads of films I’ve seen more than ten times

02. Name a movie that you’ve seen multiple times in the theater.

Dances with Wolves. Not because I thought it was that special, though it is a great movie. It just that the circumstances of it’s release coincided with seeing at at my local cinema, and then staying in a hotel that was next door to a cinema. I generally don’t go to the flicks, as I’m easily irritated when watching films, and don’t like noise or having conversations. I don’t see cinema as a social event. If I go these days, it’s usually alone and on a weekday afternoon, when I stand a better chance of having the theatre to myself. Anti-social as ever..

03. Name an actor that would make you more inclined to see a movie.

I’m not really motivated to see films based on who’s in them, though I’d be inclined to watch a film with John Cusack or Ed Norton, who seem to make interesting. Cate Blanchett and Casey Affleck have also usually worth a watch for their performances. I loved Affleck’s performance in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

04. Name an actor that would make you less likely to see a movie.

Tom Cruise. Something slightly creepy about him. Though I’m a big fan of Michael Mann’s Collateral.

05. Name a movie that you can and do quote from.

Silence Of The Lambs. I’m not sure why, but it keeps coming up in correspondence with a friend of mine. “It rubs the lotion on it’s skin or else it gets the hose again.”

06. Name a movie musical that you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs.

I’m not big on musicals. My favourite is Singin‘ In The Rain. though I’m not sure I can say I know all the words to all the songs. I bet I know all the words to all the songs in Grease. I’ll have picked them up by osmosis.

07. Name a movie that you have been known to sing along with.

There is no movie that I sing along to.

08. Name a movie that you would recommend everyone see.

I like films that are slightly unusual. Donnie Darko springs immediately to mind, or better still, Jacob’s Ladder. Everyone should see Jacob’s Ladder. Not just because it’s a great film, but because of what it’s about, and the concept on which it hinges. Death basically. I say everyone should see it... it’s a little bit disturbing, so everyone except young children.

09. Name a movie that you own.

I own loads of films. One of them is Glengarry Glen Ross. (I just looked at a shelf with some, and that was the first one I saw)

10. Name an actor that launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.

Sting. I’m surprised at how bad he is.

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what?

Not many drive-ins in the countryside of South Staffs. I’m usually too busy racing hot rods and playing chicken at Thunder Road.

12. Name a movie that you keep meaning to see but just haven’t yet gotten around to it.

Citizen Kane. I have no idea if it’s as good as they say. I know what Rosebud is, so is it still worth seeing?

13. Ever walked out of a movie?

All of them. Otherwise I’d still be there wouldn’t I? I’ve never left one in disgust, though. I have switched one or two off. I can remember giving up on Dogville, and I’ve never been able to sit though Eraserhead.

14. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.

I’m a man I don’t cry. Ever. Ok, I may have been a little choky on very very rare occasions. The ‘I could’ve saved more...‘ speech from Schindler’s List springs to mind.

15. What’s the last movie you saw in the theater?

Star Trek. Loved it.

16. What’s your favourite/preferred genre of movie?

Allsorts, though I really like good science fiction and horror films.

17. What’s the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?

Not sure. Probably Dumbo, Mary Poppins, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or Bedknobs and Broomsticks

18. What movie do you wish you had never seen?

I can’t think of one that I wish I hadn’t seen. What’s the point?

19. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The Eighth Dimension is pretty ‘out there’. Never seen it on TV.

20. What is the scariest movie you’ve seen?

I’m never really been overly scared by films. It’s like roller-coasters, you delight in the fear rather than are actually afraid. The most effective horror films were seen in my late teens The Exorcist is the obvious choice, though watching it today it’s quite a dull film interspersed with shock scenes. Two comic horrors are extremely effective The Evil Dead and An American Werewolf in London. I think The Blair Witch Project does a cracking job of ratcheting up the tension until it becomes hysteria. The hype helped. I remember leaving the cinema after TBWP and a girl behind me was sobbing into her friends coat, “It’s so upsetting because it’s REAL!..” Ho hum.

21. What is the funniest movie you’ve seen?

Again they would have been seen in my late teens or early twenties. I like those early Steve Martin films, The Jerk, The Man With Two Brains and Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid. Delightfully silly. Whatever happened to him. Those family comedies that he and Eddie Murphy seem to make these days are dire.

Sweet bird of youth..

2009-09-12T20:37:00.004+01:00

Whilst about my business today I came across the below poster,

which rather flummoxed me. Who'd have thought there was a market for a David Essex tribute artist? I'm rather reminded of the Simpson's gag. A poster outside Springfield concert hall reads:-

" Tonite - Moody Blues Tribute Band

plus support act The Moody Blues"

Mr Essex himself adorns the cover of the issue of Jackie, (originally published Feb 15th 1975) free with todays Guardian. They're giving away a classic comic every day next week. What a great idea. I'm looking forward to the Whizzer and Chips with an enthusiasm bordering on rabies.

Whilst we're in the early seventies, Mondo and Piley were reminiscing on Podrophenia 3 (available free on iTunes) about the late, great Brian Connolly and lack of recognition and retro-respect. I've got a huge affection for Sweet. Wig Wam Bam was the first record I ever owned.

Piley described him as 'a beautiful man'.

Hear Hear.

Moon Unit

2009-09-10T21:35:00.009+01:00

Anyone seen Moon? The film directed by Duncan Jones and starring Sam Rockwell.

Got massive acclaim but no distribution. Looks like I’m going to have to wait for the DVD.

Anyone know how Duncan came to decide on the name Duncan? It’s ‘overknown’ that he entered the world as Zowie Bowie, which is obviously a ridiculous name to impose on a child.

Bowie Snr came to his senses in the eighties, and Zowie gently became Joe, which I thought perfectly respectable. At what point did he become Duncan then? And why?

Just Curious..

2009-09-04T23:27:00.006+01:00

I've gone vampire crazy me. I've been watching all manner vampire based TV and films old and new, and thought I'd give you a rundown of what I liked and what I didn't.

1. That picture to the left. Isn't that just the crappest vamp ever? Except for Tom Cruise in Interview with the Scientologist. OBVIOUSLY!

2. Twilight. Couldn't actually face watching this (probably) feeble exercise in futility. For teenage fans of the books and middle aged ex-goths who wish they were still young. You know, the ones who still have crystals and tarot, and say things like "You can't quantify the universe. You can't quantify the spirit",

I'd say avoid but I'm not qualified to give an opinion.

3. Near Dark. By flavour of the month director Kathryn Bigelow. I still like this modern day vampire oat-opera. even if it does feature perennial nineties whiner Bill Paxton.

4. 30 Days of Night. I quite liked this. Even if it is a bit of rip-off of Near Dark. With a bit of The Thing rolled up in it. Actually, The Thing would be my number one vampire flick, if it was about vampires. But it isn't. So it isn't. Hope that's clear?

5. True Blood. I've been watching this re-imagineering (heh) of the old legends, and it's quite good. with liberal doses of sex and swearing, and lots of subtexts around race and prejudice. My Mrs always picks the moment when there's a sex scene on to walk into the room. "Watching vampire porn again, VS?", she says. Doesn't help that I watch it naked I s'pose?

So there you go. A complete and extensive guide to the vampire genre. Absolutely nothing worth bothering with.

Except this:

Stay tuned at the end of the trailer to see it reviewed by morons.

Things you don't see every day...

2009-09-01T18:42:00.002+01:00

Mike Tyson in a Wolves shirt?

If you would like to press one, press one..

2009-08-25T22:25:00.003+01:00

I found my self missing the good old days of call-centres the other day. Remember? You used to get the opportunity to press a key and slickly get transferred through a clearly laid out menu system until your query was politely and quickly by a good natured agent. The whole process would leave you glowing warmly and at peace with the world.

A well known telecommunications company has decided to rob us of this particular access to nirvana, by humanising the machines.

Now, you get the opportunity to speak to the machine and faboulous voice recognition technology will understand and answer it.

My query related to a direct debit I had requested not being set up and me being billed for late payment.

"Please tell us why you are calling us?"

"You haven't set up the direct debit I requested"

Silence for a few seconds...

"Would you like a balance statement?"

"No. I'd like to know why you haven't set up the direct debit I requested?"

Silence for a few seconds...

"Would you like to set up a balance transfer?"

"No you've charged me and not set up the direct debit I requested."

Silence for a few seconds...

"Would you like to set up a direct debit?"

"No I did that last month, or tried to- it hasn't worked, now I'm out of pocket!"

"Sorry we didn't understand. If you would like a balance transfer press one..."

They promised me jet-packs and teleportation. What went wrong?

Hypocrite #2

2009-07-29T21:48:00.004+01:00

Remember this?

Yeah! That's me, sticking it to Steve Gates, or whatever his name is. Not gonna buy your fruit based electronic devices. ESPECIALLY NOT AN IPOD!

Except I got one as gift, and of course fell in love with it. My Creative Zen fell by the wayside, and the 30gb iPod Classic took over and went everywhere with me.

That is until one day I left it within striking distance of this:-

A few well placed crunches, and it was gone for good. I replaced it, with spanking new silver 80gb model, which became my new constant complanion. Paired with a nice set of Denon in-earphones I was well chuffed with my mobile listening experience. (Obviously not using the limiting iTunes store!).

I've been in the market for a new computer, and last weekend was drawn back to Apple and their beautiful but overpriced boxes. I was seriously thinking about leaving my flexible PC's behind me, and crossing over.

That is until my lovely silver 80gb iPod revealed a new feature to me.

The ability for the hard disk to fail twenty days after the expiration of it's warranty. It'll cost £100 to repair, plus post and packing. Which will bring me fairly close to the cost of a brand new replacement.

So you can stick your beautiful machines and your exemplary recycling policy, Bill Jobs! (or whatever your name is).

A list

2009-07-17T22:24:00.006+01:00

It's the time of year when everybody is having or has had holidays. I'm pretty rubbish at holidays, as I can't really sit still. I've no interest in lying in the sun, with a great book trying to catch the skin cancer. I can't abide resorts, with people in Union Flag swimming trunks swaying between the acres of plastic sunbeds and the bars and then back again. Not for me.

I'm also not a huge fan of flying, so getting to the Costa Bollocks can be something of a trauma. I'm well informed by a respected member of the mental health profession, and occasional heckler about the lack of updates on this blog, that the best way to beat such a phobia is to avoid it. "Hide under the bed if necessary", were her exact words.

I usually take three seperate single weeks. The first is to Scotland in May or June where I can faff about on my inflatable banana boat in the lake near the idyllic cottage I've bored about so many times before in these moronic pages.

The second is normally to Cornwall. We tend to favour the ruggedness of the north side of the Lizard Peninsula, where, if the sun does shine, and Mme Suicide wishes to sun herself, I can at least throw myself around on my bodyboard in the sea in Poldhu, Church or the stunning Kynance Cove(s)

The third week we will camp somewhere in September if the weather forecast looks reasonable, when the sites have emptied of kids.

Last year we paid a quick visit back to the preferred childhood destination of Newquay. I'm not sure what to make of it anymore. The whole upsurge in UK surfing, and it's place as 'the capital' seems to have turned it into something else. There seem to luxury apartments going up all over the place, for young single professional males who want to spend their weekends being Patrick Swayze in 'Point Break' instead of freelance IT consultants.

When we were between the ages of nine and fourteen, the sands at Watergate Bay and Fistral Bay were the ultimate playground for two weeks in August. My last memories are of staying at small hotel, aged fourteen, just outside Newquay centre. Days were spent running around with new best friends, who you forgot about, just after promising to write to to them forever. Nights were spent in the hotel bar, drinking soft 'Blood Transfusions' and mooning over the the unreachable eighteen year old barmaid who was so nice to me. Listening to the entertainment, a singing guitar player named Ian St Something or Other, wade through 'Streets of London', and wondering whether he'd be brave enough to sing the one about "Daniel Morgan, who had a tiny sexual organ..."

My sister had a couple of cassettes which she's taped much of the top twenty. This (and Daniel Morgan) formed the soundtrack to the holiday. I'm off now to try and download all the tracks below, so I can stick them on my iPod, and bridge a thirty year gap.

YOU'RE THE ONE THAT I WANT -John Travolta And Olivia Newton-John

SUBSTITUTE - Clout

BOOGIE OOGIE OOGIE - A Taste Of Honey

THE SMURF SONG - Father Abraham And The Smurfs

THREE TIMES A LADY - Commodores

BROWN GIRL IN THE RING / RIVERS OF BABYLON - Boney M

FOREVER AUTUMN - Justin Hayward

DANCING IN THE CITY - Marshall Hain

IF THE KIDS ARE UNITED - Sham 69

WILD WEST HERO - Electric Light Orchestra

NORTHERN LIGHTS - Renaissance

5-7-0-5 - City Boy

STAY - Jackson Browne

A LITTLE BIT OF SOAP - Showaddywaddy

LIKE CLOCKWORK - Boomtown Rats

RUN FOR HOME - Lindisfarne

IT'S RAINING - Darts

COME BACK & FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED - Gladys Knight And The Pips

LIFE'S BEEN GOOD - Joe Walsh

Soapy hypocrite

2009-07-03T21:54:00.005+01:00

I joined a gym six weeks ago. That officially makes me a hypocrite. I must now apologise to all (both) the gym-goers I sneered at previously.

"Oh, going to get on your hamster-wheels?" I would victoriously sneer, as their toned bodies glided gracefully out of view..

"Oh, going to drive ten miles, so you can sit on a stationary bike and pedal it for five miles?", I would majestically sneer to the absolute mirth-filled delight (complete indifference) of my captive audience of fellow couch potatoes.

Of course, I was just masking the growing fear that I'm not as young, light or fit as I was, and I'm not really doing much about it, save for the occasional trespass around a farmers field with the hounds, or slow paddle down the river.

You may hear similar denial style rationalisations from smokers

"Yeah, it may be bad for me, but I get an hour more break than you everyday, so who's really gonna live longer? eh? EH?" Quite.

Anyway, I'm enjoying going, I have no idea if I'm any fitter or lighter, but I'm making an effort. If I ever took the piss out of you for your healthy attendance, I'm sorry. If I took the piss out for any other reason, IT STILL STANDS!

At my preferred Health and Leisure facility, they provide you with shower gel. I hate shower gel. it's not fit for purpose. You just smear yourself with a slightly slimy concoction that REFUSES to lather. It's deeply unsatisfying. What's wrong with a good old fashioned hunk of soap? You can hold it in your hand for the whole duration of your shower, delivering wave after wave of superb quality bubblage. My favourite soap is from Lush. It's Virgin Olive Oil flavour and smells divine. or at least it did until they discontinued it a few weeks ago. The swines. I'm never going back to Lush. Or to the gym.

So...

2009-06-26T00:53:00.014+01:00

..where were you when you heard that Farah Fawcett had died? Probably watching the unexpected news that Michael Jackson had suddenly departed?

Not really ever in Jackson's target audience, I've no real feel for him as a musician. He didn't ever represent the music I listened to, however I couldn't dispute he had a massive influence on pop music.

I had an grudging admiration with the way he courted media speculation about his 'Man of Mystery' life in the eighties, but this got overshadowed by the surgery, and then became increasingly sinister.

Anyway, with nothing meaningful to say, this is where I was during 'The Big Ones':-

JFK - Not born, so nowhere.

Elvis - Watching the news with me mum, it probably came through on the BBC Nine O' Clock news.

Lennon - Staying the night at a mates house, aged about fourteen. We listened to the tributes on the radio through the night.

Sinatra - No idea.

Cobain- This was during a quite 'confusing' period in my life, and I was never sure whether Cobain had died and Gazza had broken his leg, or vice versa. I'm still not sure.

Diana - Like most people I was in bed that Sunday morning. My Dad rang me.

Jackson- At a Fleet Foxes gig at Wolves Civic Hall. The lead singer annouced it before they launched into their final song.

Prince Philip - At an Eddie Izzard gig at Wolves Civic Hall. He announced it from the stage. Turned out not to be true.

"What ARE the Thirty Nine Steps..?"

2009-06-11T21:07:00.005+01:00

Right. I'm orf to The Highlands to meet a mysterious man with a missing finger, to try and stop a high ranking politician being assassinated (Whaddya mean don't bother?).

If you want me, you can find me here:-

Back in a few days (Whaddya mean don't bother?).

Wish me Godspeed and good luck..

Caution Word Magazine readers

2009-06-08T20:35:00.002+01:00

If, like me, you're a subscriber, and your new issue lands face down when it comes thought the letterbox, turn it over carefully as it has a very disturbing image (not pictured) on the cover.

*shudders*

When I was young I'd listen to the radio..

2009-05-28T23:38:00.008+01:00

When I was growing up, we didn't have many records in our house. It was the early seventies, and my dad was already turning into the classical music fanatic he eventually became.

So, for me, there were the two staples. Beatle's Greatest Hits (both volumes) and Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. Not bad. They're both on my iPod today.

My elder sister had my mother's limited collection to leaf through. Which was basically a few Carpenter's LPs. As a result of this, I grew older with a loathing of the sugary-sweet-middle-of-the-road duo. Particularly, as whenever she wanted to 'play' the Carpenters, I had to be Richard, the owner of the world's uncoolest jumpers and geeky sounding voice..

I was a scrawny little kid, and she was bigger and scarier*, so I had to go along with it.

As soon as I'd left home and become re-aware of them, I discovered these songs could recall some great memories, and my opinion changed. I gradually became rather fond of them, despite the occasional attempts at singing by Richard.

Luckily, most of the duties in that department went to his sister's rather excellent deep voice.

I don't actually have any of their songs in 2009, (not recorded by them anyway. I do have the 1994 covers album 'If I were a Carpenter' which contains tracks by Sonic Youth and Grant Lee Buffalo and well worth a listen, curiosity seekers) , but on occasion I do have a sneaky listen to their version of 'Ticket To Ride' and 'Goodbye To Love'. Courtesy of Spotify.

Another L.P. my Sis played to death was an abridged version of the film of "The Railway Children" This was dialogue from the movie interspersed with a little narration.

As a result of multiple replays of this record , much of the dialogue got committed to memory.

Even now, thirty odd years on, we can be in a innocent conversation, when a word or phrase will come up and force us into a surreal re-enactment of a whole scene. Much to the horror of onlookers.

*I'm a foot taller than you now. SO YOU CAN BLOODY WELL BE GARFUNKEL!

Wrong wrong wrong

2009-05-25T12:07:00.001+01:00

Take That take heed...

2009-05-23T13:18:00.001+01:00

..if you want to improve your jaunty nineties pop music, just add one tsbp of Mark E. Smith.

Potatoes

2009-05-18T19:54:00.004+01:00

Apparently, we're supposed to eat five portions of fresh fruit and vegetables a day. I've also just been informed by the television if you drink a gallon of water every day this will help you achieve immortality. It can't just be any water though, it has to be Volvic. Can I resist 'The Challenge'? Yes. I think I probably can.

I've been achieving my five a day with the assistance of spuds. One packet of Ready Salted, One of Salt 'n' Vinegar, a portion of chips and three grapes. Safe to say, I think, the Diet Police have no reason to come calling on me in the near future, and I am assured immunity from The Grim Reaper ©.

When I was a kid, when you had pie and chips, your mum would whip beautifully crisp chips out of the fire hazard that was a permanent resident on the corner of the stove. Do they still exist? I can't remember the last time I had home-cooked chips, and have become a slave to that evil invention of the late twentieth century, the oven chip. I had some on Saturday, and they were awful. WELL IT ENDS HERE! Can anyone please tell me how I can cook chips without a chip-pan. Or I'm off to the Curry's to buy an eyesore deep-fat-fryer.

223, isbw. 222 if you count the one that you gave me.

There'll be...

2009-05-12T08:16:00.002+01:00

...no post today (except these two). As the terrible news of the split of the Pneumatic Novelist and the Antipodean Man-Child has knocked me for six.

Please give them the privacy they so desperately crave..

Put your shirt on, eh luv..?

2009-05-12T08:04:00.001+01:00

....you'll catch your death.

My socks

2009-05-08T22:34:00.007+01:00

I know it's a cliché. The thing about socks getting lost in the wash and never being able find a matching pair, or in my case a pair of even remotely resembling each other. I decided to beat the system a few years back and threw all mine away. Not too bright, VS, I hear you both saying?

I DID replace them. With twenty pairs of identical socks. I have added to these twenty, with a few pairs of specialist socks. Those rather comfortable Bridgedale ones. You know the ones worn under walking boots that make your feet feel adored. I kept these in a special drawer. They're there now. Eleven single Bridgedale walking boot socks that bear no resemblance to each other.

Anyway, I digress, with twenty identical pairs of black socks, the problem went away...

..Or so you'd think.

I was looking through my recently washed socks, newly dried on our hall radiator, for a pair for the day and I noticed they're all different. Just a subtly different shade of black, or dark grey. Each with a very slight deviation in style or pattern...

A tale of two gigs

2009-04-26T23:32:00.008+01:00

I've had an unusually busy weekend, gigwise. Well,..ahem.. two. Busy for me.. Neither of them I would have normally chosen to go to 'but life is for new experiences', unless someone suggests you go skydiving.

My sister is one of P.J. Harvey's most adoring fans. She nearly named her daughter Polly Jean, which tells you how far the obsession runs. I've never really had much time for her, I thought her a slightly scary skinny SHOUTY woman with a big guitar. P.J Harvey's not much better either. Aha ha...

Anyway, sister asked me to go along with her to The Ritz in Manchester to watch Harvey perform songs from the new album she's recorded with John Parish. Always game for a gig I went along.

When she arrived on stage, She was not at all what I expected. She's appeared slightly music teacher-ish, rather than full on rock chick. The show itself was more bluesy/folksy and I was pleasantly surprised. Whilst none of the songs really grabbed me on first hearing, P.J has that huge voice, and her occasionally terrifying possessed-like in-character performances were massively engaging. Sometimes melancholy, sometimes upbeat, sometimes surreal. In between songs She was just as attractive, almost demure and sweet, making appreciative comments about the crowd, in that soft West-country accent. Anyway, to cut along story short, she felt the same way about me and we've decided to run away together. I'm kidding of course (or am I ?), but I will be looking into getting hold of the two albums She's made with Parish. When I got home I decided to look into the the other rockier P. J. and came across the below clip, which further impressed me. A slightly scary skinny SHOUTY woman with a big guitar, holding a massive crowd in her sway with no band just the sheer force of stage presence. Superb.

My mate Geoff (the security guard, from Newport, Gwent, not Shropshire) popped up out of the blue a couple of months back and firmly suggested that I attend a concert by Brighton-based band Brakes. Geoff's not got much nouse about what goes on in the real world, but he does know his bands. So I hopped online and grabbed some tickets to The Little Civic in Wolves ,which is basically the upstairs of a pub, not much bigger than my front room.

I ummed and aaahed about going as I approached early Saturday evening. I was still a little stiff from P.J. (wha-hey!) but mainly because my usual gig-going companions had suddenly become unavailable, due to urgent commitments elsewhere. Nothing to do with not wanting to sacrifice their Saturday nights for a band they'd never heard of! I couldn't ask my long-suffering spouse either, as her sister was kindly paying a visit from Yorkshire (Argh!).

In the end my miserly side clicked in. I couldn't stand to waste TWO tickets. Not at eight quid each. Going to gigs on your own is a slightly odd experience. You feel. altered self conscious, but can be good for a spot of people watching. One woman was regaling each of her friends with amazing scientific facts about cats being able to cure themselves of diabetes. Well if the gig was going to be rubbish, I'd at least learned a little about cat blood sugar.

Brakes turned out to be awesome live. Funny and good-humoured between songs, whilst really hugely original rocking during the actual playing of them. Geoff had been kind enough to said me their CD's, So I was slightly familiar with some of their material. If I'm honest they hadn't really grabbed me massively on record, but live they were simply stunning.

Some songs only last a few seconds, and they'll play them twice if you ask nicely. But make no mistake they're no novelty act, and I could quite easily imagine them capturing the hearts of huge festival crowds, as easily they did the few people in the Little Civic. So good were they, I'm considering the journey to Nottingham on Wednesday to see them again. If you're anywhere near where they're playing you, go and have a look. You won't be disappointed.

Here's a (by no means typical) song by them.

And here they are live..

2009-04-18T21:34:00.002+01:00

Cheers Mick.

2009-04-18T18:28:00.002+01:00

At about ten past four today, my local football team scored a goal, and the seventy plus year old man who sits beside me burst into tears..

The needle and the damage done....

2009-04-15T22:29:00.002+01:00

So, there I was, about three weeks ago, walking the dogs in the dark, in the fields near my house, When all of a sudden there was a bright light directly above my head. The dogs and I were transported, by some kind of tractor beam, up into a saucer shaped vessel.

I can only vaguely remember what happened, but it involved a very long needle, strange flashing lights and all sorts of other unpleasant experiments done to me and the hounds of hell.

I was deposited exactly where I was abducted from about half an hour ago and have just managed to get back to my computer and tell you this fantastic and terrible tale! What I don't want you to think is that I've been too lazy to update this celebrated piece of pop culture. Oh no.

I was watching with quite considerable apathy, The Champions League games, this week. The meeting of the top two teams in the Cocoa Cola Championship had me screaming at the tv a week ago, (from my cell on board a spaceship) but the cream of Europe has me snoring.

In the Porto team, there is a player named 'Hulk'. It's not his real name, but a nickname. He got it due to the green strip at a former club, due and a slight resemblance to to the 'actor' Lou Ferrigno.

I quite like this to catch on in the English leagues, though from interviews with managers (such as former players Hughesy, Incey and Fergy) nicknaming footballers consists of shortening the surname of the player to its first four letters, and adding a 'y'

Be nice to see 'Twat' on the back of shirt of the Manchester United number seven, though?

Omen

2009-03-23T19:38:00.003Z

You've seen the film. Robert Thorn starts getting hounded by a crazy looking priest about his son being the Anti-Christ?

Well, I'm not sure about the imminent arrival of little Damien, but I'm pretty sure I've picked up on one of the signs of the impending End of the World.

Read about it here, keep your eyes open for other signs and, if necessary, go and hassle Gregory Peck.

I'm not mad*

*I might be a bit mad. Though not in an eighties Radio One DJ kind of way.

How dare you..

2009-03-13T22:14:00.010Z

I was completely devastated, disturbed, disgusted and insulted* to be referred to as a 'Brummie' this morning, for about the hundred thousandth time in my life.

I'm not a Brummie. A Brummie is someone from Birmingham. I wasn't born there. I have never lived there. Birmingham is about twenty five miles from where I live. I am not a Brummie.

It's often people from 'darn sarf' who make this error, and it's usually after they hear me speak. I haven't got the strongest West Midlands accent in the world, but it's there. It's not a Brummie accent though. It's tainted with a slight Black Country tinge. So I'm probably more of a 'Yam-Yam' (someone likely to say "Yow am" or "Yow'm" instead of "You are").

I'm not a Yam-Yam either though, 'cause I live in Staffordshire. The county that brought you Shane Meadows and Paddy Considine.

("Surely that was Nottinghamshire, VS?"

"Nar M'Duck, Meadows is from Leek, Considine from Burton"

Alas, I have no territorial claim on either, as I was born in Shropshire. Carole Decker anyone?)

Anyway, Southern Softies, to avoid offending 'my people' here's how you tell a Brummie from a Yam-Yam. It's a one-word thing, like telling an American from a Canadian by the way they say "out" (or "oot").

If they pronounce the word "Years" as "Yuurz" they are most likely from Brum. If they say "Ye-uz" they'll be God's Own Black Country dwellers. Simple.

Obviously this is NOT going to stop me referring to anyone from Essex, Kent, Berkshire and parts of West Sussex as 'Cockneys'. I thank you.

*not really bothered

Have a jolly nice weekend. To set you up, here's the most menacing use of an East Midlands accent ever committed to celluloid.

Ten Years Older...

2009-03-07T20:54:00.011Z

..at least that's how I feel having had to sit through 'Ten Years Younger'. Is this what passes for entertainment in the Twenty Century?

If you haven't seen it, well known household product Myleene Klass* attempts to bore the wrinkles out of some poor old sod who's smoked to many B&H whilst sunning themself in Marbella every year for the last thirty years.

Perhaps I'm being to hard. I suppose it does make the vict...erm..participant feel better about themselves? Maybe improves the quality of their life?

Needing to find out I, VS, decided to make a lucky individual look TEN YEARS YOUNGER!

I chose my nephew, Tom. Unfortunately he's only six. I haven't seen him since.

*fomerly known as 'Windowlene'

ch..ch..ch..ch..'eroes.

2009-02-28T23:48:00.005Z

Old David Bowie's gone a bit quiet these days? Anyone seen him?

Like many people of my generation, I love Mr Bowie almost unequivocally and can (and have) forgive him for any of his sins against music.

OK he might have pinched the odd idea here and there in the early days. But Mr Newley was never going to get a credible career out of this, so why not let Bowie borrow it?

Syd Barratt lost the inclination to do anything at all not long after this. And under Waters, Pink Floyd changed direction completely.

So why not let Bowie pick up the pieces and move it along.

Anyway, I love all the Bowie albums of the seventies. Hunky Dory is still my favourite.

So a question for you. Has he done anything that meant anything for you in the last 25 years?

For me it stopped with this piece of magnificence.

I have friends* who think it stopped earlier. Some who think later. I can't abide 'Let's Dance' the opening bars of 'Modern Love' will make me switch the radio off.

So, to repeat myself. Has David Bowie recorded anything decent since 1980?

*VS does not actually have any real friends.

Another moral dilemma AND another dog pic..

2009-02-27T22:28:00.004Z

I was at the tip earlier today, single handedly preventing climate change, and getting rid of a load of old junk at the same time.

As I rounded one of the skips (the old clothes one, detail-lovers) I came across the following discarded piece of garbage..

It's good to see that (..bottom lip starts to wobble..) people can recycle (..sniff...) their old toys. Useless (..slight catch in voice...) probably badly manufactured and dangerou..AAAAAAH!

*jumps in car, weeping and goes back to rescue abandoned doggie*

Brand loyalty

2009-02-23T21:35:00.003Z

I was talking to a girl the other day, who threw in a line about her partner "lovin' his labels", referring to, I assume, designer logos on clothes. I was a bit dismissive of this, telling her I had no such pretensions, and I had far more depth, unaffected as I was by the lure of having Giorgio Moroder sewn to my lapel or Jean Claude van Damme on my jeans. I would wear whatever I liked, and would be more likely not buy something, rather than saunter around giving some poncy fashion house the benefit of MY free advertising.

I wandered off feeling very superior and sat with a smug grin on my face for about a week.

Until someone left a comment under a Facebook photo of mine, and I had to reconsider.

It said "sponsored by Berghaus"

I realised that I actually do buy brands consistently. Not necessarily 'designers', but I do get it into my head that if I'm buying something in a category such as outerwear I do always opt for the same manufacturer.

The above four pairs of shoes, all in current rotation, are all mine (note my spectacular diversity of style, fashion-watchers). I bought three of them and they're all Clark's. Not exactly the height of haute couture, but I always buy Clark's Gore-Tex shoes. Because they keep my feet dry. The other pair are Timberlands, light as a feather, but as useless as sandals at keeping the water out. (Yes, I do have a pair of sandals. Yes, they are made by Clark's).

I'm starting to think this has always been with me. Until I was about thirty, I wouldn't wear any other jeans than Levi's. Then I was bought a pair of Diesels and liked them better. I haven't really switched loyalty, as I no longer really wear jeans. My fondness for Leiderhosen MUST BE REALISED!

So what about you, 21st century consumers? Are you as shallow as me?

Suicide remarks are torn from the fool's gold mouthpiece

2009-02-14T21:11:00.007Z

Yes, this blog is two. Not bad since I ran out of ideas about three days in..

I was considering deleting and disappearing as a special second birthday treat, but it serves no real purpose. So I'll continue to occasionally throw out the odd post when inspiration calls..

I know it's not updated quite so much these days, as my interests have expanded beyond sitting in front of a computer all day and night. Also me and the blog are now suffering from 'creative differences', which I'm hoping to resolve soon(er or later).

I include the below for no other reason than I love it.

Thanks for dropping by...

Fishy

2009-02-12T22:31:00.007Z

I've reason to believe that this isn't 'responsibly sourced'!

I've been informed that this was,in fact, sourced by a fisherman wearing 'Deely-Boppers' and a rotating bow tie. I understand he was deviating from best health and safety practice by leaning slighty too far forwards.

Are you listening Trading Standards?

Are you listening Jamie Oliver?

(whaddya mean no?)

Just in case the opening titles didn't give you enough information..

2009-02-05T23:40:00.001Z

Most descriptive tv theme tune ever..?

2009-02-05T21:13:00.002Z

..AND sung by eighties goth favourites Southern Death Cult.*

*not actually sung by eighties goth favourites Southern Death Cult.

One for next year's Christmas list..?

2009-02-01T16:25:00.001Z

Novellist Kate Price Tests Silicon Brain

2009-02-01T16:21:00.003Z

Super #2

2009-01-21T20:10:00.003Z

Needing to get out of work for a breather, I visit one of the Supermarkets for a sandwich and something to throw together as meal later. Oh and a bottle of wine to stare longingly at all afternoon, (until I can escape the drudgery and feed the monkey on my back). Having learned from escapades with the auto checkouts, I smugly place myself in line at one of the attended tills and watch the auto checkout users pulling their hair out, as their queues get longer.

I'm quickly at the front, I've had the items scanned and feeling ahead of the game.

Alas, I have forgotten the 'new rules'.

The checkout lady adjusts the armband on her uniform, pulls her jackboots under her stool and fixes me a look of cool steel.

"Would you like a bag?"

Shit. I hadn't planned on coming to the supermarket and so inevitably hadn't brought one of my stash of 'green reusables. Shit.

I quickly scan the immediate locale to see if I can buy a 'green' bag, but am out of luck.

I gaze at my shoes,

"Yes please"

" I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that?"

"erm...I said... erm.. yes please?"

"No, still not hearing you. Can you repeat that?"

"YES PLEASE, I WOULD LIKE A BAG"

There is immediate silence, as every shopper turns to look at me with scorn. The only sound heard is that of another tree falling in another dying rainforest.

A man at the auto-checkout drops his handful of hair and tuts pointedly.

The checkout guard hands me the flimsiest of plastic bags, and fixes me with me that glare.

"You won't forget again will you?"

"No Miss.."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes Miss"

"Good. We'll be watching.."

I never claimed to be original..

2009-01-21T18:50:00.007Z

..but as indicated I'm pushed for time. So, in the timely tradition of lazy bloggers throughout the world I give you....

My "25 Most Played" list. Copied and pasted directly out of iTunes onto this page!

Your Protector Fleet Foxes

Sun It Rises Fleet Foxes

White Winter Hymnal Fleet Foxes

Station Approach Elbow

Tiger Mountain Peasant Song Fleet Foxes

Scattered Black And Whites Elbow

Blue Ridge Mountains Fleet Foxes

He Doesnt Know Why Fleet Foxes

Meadowlarks Fleet Foxes

From Your Favorite Sky I Am Kloot

Drive My Car / the Word / What You're Doing The Beatles

Quiet Houses Fleet Foxes

Lady Madonna The Beatles

Sick Hipster Nursed By Suicide Girl Film School

After Eight Neu!

Because The Beatles

Newborn Elbow

Ragged Wood Fleet Foxes

Heard Them Stirring Fleet Foxes

Some Riot Elbow

Our Way To Fall Yo La Tengo

Switching Off Elbow

Everyday Yo La Tengo

You Can Have It All Yo La Tengo

The Birth and Death of the Day Explosions In The Sky

I'm assuming the list doesn't lie?

Turns out I'm the world's biggest Fleet Foxes fan.

Who knew?

2009-01-15T19:51:00.003Z

"Oh where..?", the fans cry, "..where-oh-where is VS, our voice of reason, as 2009 decends into financial ruin and lawless chaos?!"

"I'm a bit busy at the moment, so f*ck off! " comes the (rather rude) reply.

Interlude

2008-12-28T13:51:00.005Z

In-between one set of madness and another, I'd like to pause and play this song.

It's a track originally by a Yorkshire band, covered here by a Yorkshireman, which I'd like to dedicate to a Yorkshire lass.

Is it 2009 yet?

Fin.

2008-12-23T23:04:00.011Z

Well, that's it from me for 2008.

I won't lie. This has been one of the worst years I've ever had, and I can't WAIT to see the back of it, but there's been positives to take out of it, particularly in the last couple of months.

So, as is customary. Thanks for reading and commenting. It's always nice to get feedback. Even from BPP.

Enjoy whatever time off you may have and be nice to everyone. Maybe I'll see you in 2009?

I'll leave you with the Christmas song that has made me cringe the most this year. I was discussing it with my friend Jeff the security guard, who believes Stinge was attempting to sing in a Bangledeshi accent. The phrasing is utterly bizarre. See if you can manage to listen to it all.

I wish you all the best.

More meandering

2008-12-17T21:57:00.019Z

I went to see The Day The Earth Stood Still and I wasn't disappointed! It really, really is awful. I'm not entirely sure how you can bollocks up such a simple story.

To recap the original:-

Alien and twelve foot robot come to Earth to tell evil Earthlings to mend their evil ways

Evil Earthlings say they're not interested and shoot alien, wounding him.

Evil Earthing politicians are too busy squabbling to listen to good (but potentially genocidal) alien

Twelve foot robot stands about menacingly, occasionally blowing things up.

Good (but potentially genocidal) alien meets make friends with little boy.

Good (but potentially genocidal) alien bonds with local Prof. in an erotically charged and action packed equation solving scene.

Good (but potentially genocidal) alien MAKES EARTH STAND STILL to convince Evil Earthlings he's a bit tasty.

Evil Earthlings mend ways.

Good (but potentially genocidal) alien buggers off.

Well, I don't want to spoil it for you, but the remake misses out one of the above key bits. (It's the one in capitals) and renders the film wholly pointless. Keanu Reeves must have been the directors dream leading man, having delivered performances SO alien throughout his career to date. Unfortunately it looks like he can't do it when he's trying. And what;s going on with his face? It seems to be getting wider and flatter. He looks a bit like a toad.

I've haven't seen such codswallop since Mel Gibson defeated an alien invasion using the the highly original and devastating technique of 'hiding in the basement' in Signs

Speaking of codswallop, last nights episode of Survivors contained not only the second least convincing birth I've ever seen on screen*, but the quickest revival of a dead person using that tried and tested TV technique of blowing into their gob a bit then rubbing their chest. This always causes the corpse to gasp suddenly and sit up, as good as new. Wonder why they didn't try that on John F. Kennedy? Anyway, Survivors, it's time we parted company I think..

*The first the sixty second first-time childbirth in Children of Men. Is it always that easy to have a child? 'Man-flu' looks loads worse..

~o~

Took my cold to see The Hold Steady on Monday night. No-one else wanted to go. I really was feeling quite dreadful, so I spent the support act time drinking strong lager in the bar. Then I marched front and centre into the 'mosh-pit' and spent the whole of the set in a washing machine, being stamped on by people half my age. I left bruised, aching but happy.

Meandering

2008-12-14T17:36:00.009Z

It's Christmaaaaaaaaaaas!

Must be, the X-Factor has given birth to yet another Whitney/Mariah clone for us all to enjoy. This one's even managed to taint Jeff Buckley's version of Hallelujah. Cheers Simon Cowell. That Ballroom Dancing show will deliver up another sequined winner next weekend using the identical X-Factor format, with it's pantomime judges. I suppose the Ice Dancing one will be on our screens again soon, unless the public has finally tired of that b-lister? Do your turn, get criticised or praised by the evil one, the sensible one, the funny one or the national treasure. Then have the public vote to get you booted off. Repeat to fade.

The shops and supermarkets are all full of people to jostle and irritate me. I'm queuing to pay the fifty quid for a tree to moult spiky things onto my carpet, with Judy Garland coming from a hidden speaker, singing something joyous so mournfully that my vital signs start to ebb...

I've had a cold these last few days which isn't helping. I've had to listen to endless 'jokes' about 'man-flu' from the harridans around me whilst they're taking a break from multi-tasking. I've been feeling to weak to banter, so have taken to muttering under my breath. They taunt me for a while, then move on to the next male with a cold. I hear cackles, an enquiry about 'man-flu'. I continue muttering.

Whilst in the supermarket, I brave the self-checkout, as I only have a magazine and a sandwich. I'm far from a technophobe. I own every single gadget known to mankind and have built computers from their core components. I can never get through the self-checkout without help, though. This time it decided it didn't like my card. I give up and go to an attended checkout. The machine there likes my card just fine, but I have to suffer the checkout boy's festive deeley-boppers. I visit this particular supermarket about once a year. Each year I think they couldn't do anything to make this experience worse. Each year I'm proved wrong.

Oh well, three depressing festive tunes to cheer me up..

Lazy Sunday afternoon embed..

2008-12-07T17:01:00.002Z

Lovely song and video from a worthwhile refugee from the eighties.

GRAND DECEMBER RE-OPENING!!!

2008-12-02T11:31:00.001Z

Erm...hello again?

Unclear winter

2008-11-21T01:50:00.012Z

I've decided to take a break from being closed (another one?), as I've had some time off work, and as Madame De La Suicide was unable to get the same time, I've found myself at a bit of a loose end. On a bit of a whim, I decided to go and see what ISBW is droning on about when she sings the praises of Dungeness. A bit of a jaunt from here (500 mile round trip), but what else am I going to do? DIY? Watch Strictly Formulaic Panel Shows?

So I hotfooted South, stopping briefly in Hastings and Winchelsea for a cursory look around, then onto the Dungeness Nature Reserve which is an RSPB site with lots of hides for twitchers to fall asleep in.

I paid my three quid entry to the reserve and prepared to walk the two miles around the trail.

The trail guide tells me about it being home to a third of Britain's plant species and over 200 species of birds are recorded annually. It tells me about the wigeons and pintails. It drools over the male smew and the dragonflies, butterflies and frogs plant species and over 200 species of birds are recorded annually. It makes no mention of the elephant in the room which is, of course

the nuclear power station. Smack bang in the foreground and dominating every view (unless you turn your back on it, or close your eyes, or both). Whilst it may not be wholly responsible for the eerie otherworldliness of the place, it certainly adds to it.

The walk around the shingle is trail is a tranquil and lonely. I expect November is not their peak month, and my silence was only occasionally broken by the sound of ducks. A couple of twitchers suddenly break cover, a hybrid of tweed, oilskin and Scarpa, tripod legs shooting off them at bizarre angles. They are pointing towards me,

"Is that a lesser-brained Wulfrunian?" I look over my shoulder, but see nothing, except a nuclear reactor, glowering at me, silently.

Leaving the nature reserve, I drive around to the Dungeness estate. This again provides such an odd landscape. Essentially a flat grass and shingle prairie, with wooden and metal dwellings and boats in various states of disrepair. Part of what makes it appear so odd is that you can't really see the sea. It all just looks out of place.

Look one way you see this

Look the other you see this

Strange eerie place. The only other place I've visited that has anything like the same feel, is the beach at Redcar.

Now, if your looking for a dissection of the nuclear power industry, you've obviously come to the right place. This blog is internationally renowned* for its insightful views of current affairs, hot political issues and the latest in geo-environmentally scientific analysis...Ok maybe not. Bigger risks in my life currently are being trampled by a cow, or punched by a civil servant, but nuclear power makes me very uneasy. I know little of the pros and cons. I hear that the government is interested in building more as an alternative to dirty coal-burning CO2 emitting outdated legacy units. I also hear they're very safe? I fear the former residents of Prypiat, Ukraine may disagree..?

(Oddly, Prypiat is now something of a tourist attraction. Interested? Go here. I confess to being tempted..)

I'm sticking my faith in wind-farms. I understand they produce very little in the way of useful power BUT

Surely ANY unit of power produced by non-fuel burning, non nuclear natural source is a good thing?

Noel Edmunds hates them. Anything that irritates the man who gave the world Mr Blobby/Crinkly Bottom should be pursued aggressively. Give him something to do until he elbows his way back onto Prime-Time.

I think they have their own other-worldly beauty and the ones on the coast of Cornwall always make me feel oddly hopeful.

*one hit from Jersey circa 2006.

Voodoo Thermostat

2008-11-13T07:46:00.003Z

I'm taking requests on what temperature to adjust BPP's flat to today?

STILL CLOSED THOUGH!

Still closed...

2008-11-11T00:01:00.002Z

...why are you here?

VS FORCED TO RE-OPEN !!!!!!!

2008-10-30T18:14:00.002Z

Sorry to dither, folks, but I SIMPLY CANNOT let the Ross/Brand/Sachs issue pass by without giving you my opinion on it.

Closed. December. etc.

2008-10-27T23:52:00.006Z

Post-gig takeaway chat

2008-10-16T20:34:00.007+01:00

Jack and VS are sitting on a garden bench, twenty feet away from the counter of the local Chinese Takeaway. VS is passing the time whispering cruel, untrue remarks about the 'his 'n hers' moustaches of the young couple reading the menu at the counter. Jack is looking at the 'Upcoming Events' leaflet from the venue they have just left...

VS: "...I swear hers is thicker?"

Jack: " What about Hold Steady?

VS: "Wha?"

Jack: " The Hold Steady are playing"

VS: "That was a couple of weeks back"

Jack: "It's been resheduled, it's in December"

VS "Yeah, Ok if you wanna..."

Jack: "..and Glasvegas?"

VS: "I'm game. Are there any tickets left?"

Jack: "I'll check.."

VS "They're a bit Jesus and Mary Chain aren't they?"

Jack: "Dunno, who are they? One of your old mans bands?..."

VS: "Bollocks.."

VS "Are you up for Dean Friedman?"

Jack: "That old guy you were on about from the seventies who had the one utterly awful hit single?"

VS: "Yeah, that's him"

Jack: "Why do you want to go?"

VS: "Just curious I guess"

Jack: "Sixteen quid's a bit much for ME to pay to satisfy your curiousity"

VS "hmmm"

Jack: "Here's one..", his lip trembles slighty,

"..next month", his face contorts a bit..

VS :"Who?"

Jack: "Razorlight"

VS: "Razorlight?"

Jack: "Yep.."

A slight pause..

VS: "Aaaaaa HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"

Jack: "HEEEEEEE HAHAHAHAHA HEEEEEEE"

VS: "OHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHA"

Jack: "HAHAHA!"

VS: "You crack me up sometimes, Jack!"

Jack: "I thought you'd like that"

VS: "So, what about Dean Friedman...?"

Ok. Two days like this a year'll see me right.

2008-10-16T00:25:00.004+01:00

Inferiority complex

2008-10-15T00:27:00.003+01:00

I may have mentioned I took up the guitar in March? Well I had made sufficient progress (I can clumsily limp through open chords), in my worthless opinion, to warrant an upgrade.

On the advice of the ever-helpful Planet Mondo, and with some extensive internet research I made the decision to buy a Martin DX-1, but as a sensible consumer I needed to see one with my own eyes, and touch one with my own hands, which presented me with something of a dilemma.
Now this is probably part of my own psychological make-up, rather than reflection of the reality of shopping for musical instruments, but going into to a music shop and engaging an expert terrifies me. I'm not a complete shrinking violet. I can stand in front of a room of people, for example, and talk with authority and confidence about work related matters. I can even point a laser thingy at a Powerpoint presentation with a certain amount of dexterity.

Put me in front of a ponytailed, acne infested, music shop employee, and I turn into Mavis Riley. It's not just the employee either. Guitar departments are ALWAYS full of fifteen year old Goth guitar virtuoso's picking out elaborate guitar parts from Metallica songs. So when the inevitable "Would sir like to try it?" comes along, I pause for a second, eye the potential audience, think about ploughing through my clunky strummed version of 'Wish You Were Here", and conclude that sir would not. Thanks.

I did try. I did. My first (and only) attempt, saw me in a music shop in the South West of England, eyeing up the Martin's on a thoughtfully hidden mezzanine, totally deserted of Goths. I thought my luck was in, when I was approached by the sales assistant. He enquired after my health, I told him I was fine. I enquired about the legality of his ponytail, he told me it was still legal for guitarists to have them, under Seaman's law, which the government passed in 1999. He told me to feel free to browse around. Then, he sauntered off to the corner of room, picked up cheap Yamaha and proceeded to play a piece of such devasting complexity that George Harrison would have struggled to keep up. I didn't know whether to weep at the beauty of the music, or at my own English inadequacy.

I fled instead.

I now have my sought after guitar. Thanks to the anonymity of internet shopping.

(And thanks again to Planet Mondo)

Three wishes

2008-10-14T23:42:00.003+01:00

1. 6Music would sack George Lamb and his god-awful 'Shabba's', or at least transfer list him to Radio One.

2. Radio One would sack Chris Moyles and erase him from the national conciousness. George Lamb could replace him?

3. BBC1 would re-employ Barry Norman to present Film 2009.

Use Facebook responsibly

2008-10-13T23:29:00.002+01:00

I'm not quite as rabidly anti-Facebook as I thought I was. Indeed, I've found myself defending it against some non-users in the last couple of days. Mostly because, you shouldn't criticise something if you have no knowledge of it.
I've been on for about a year, and whilst many of the 'applications' are superflous, offensive or just plain pointless, the core funcionality of it is quite useful. Being Superpoked or being told 'someone is checking you out' or, worst of all, those dreadful chain letters that ask you to hug someone back before sending a hug on to ten of your other friends. Ugh.

It's simply a way of keeping anyone you might want to talk to in one place, not some fabulous new way of life. I'm not planning on phasing out any if the real relationships I may have and outsourcing them to Facebook. I'm not sitting there night after night in the vain hope that Jeff (my security guard friend from Newport) will throw a sheep at me.
It's just a quick way of getting a snapshot of people you know, sending them a quick message, or for looking at their holiday snaps.

I joined Myspace originally, but was quickly disillusioned as it seemed to be a competition as to how many friends, particularly famous ones, you could accumulate. That defeats the object for me, and just leaves you open to encounters with people you don't know. I know all my Facebook friends in some capacity or other. They're just real friends, people I know from work, or friends from the blogging community I've got a little bit closer to.

The blog formerly known as Five Centres, but now known as Bar Six,whilst the blogger himself remains known as Five Centres (or TBFKFCNKBSWBHRKFC for short) has a good post on Friends Reunited today. FR has quite a limited shelf life for people as there is only so may people you can reunite with. Once you've established that contact, it's far easier to chuck them into Facebook and keep tabs on them (or ignore them) with everyone else.
My own experience with FR resulted in short-term contacts with some ex-school chums which were quickly forgotten. I deleted my profile a couple of years ago and have never been back.

It's funny to watch the divisions now between 'new Facebook' and 'old Facebook'. Stick a few humans in a new society, real or virtual, and they'll find a way to quarrel and war.

Breaking Bad

2008-10-09T18:52:00.002+01:00

Not to attempt another TV review, but is anyone else watching 'Breaking Bad' on FX (10pm I believe)? I think they're about to air episode three (of seven) this weekend.

A seriously dark, but not without humour, take on American domesticity, as chemistry teacher Walt White goes though the mother of all mid-life crises.

Already having money problems and a second job at a car wash, Walt is diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer and in an attempt to raise money recruits a young drug dealer and starts to 'cook' Chrystal Meth. This ends in disaster at the first attempt, and Walt gets pulled into a secret life that is spiralling out of control.
Dark, as I mentioned, but also funny, edgy uncomfortable and moving.

Powered up

2008-10-08T21:11:00.013+01:00

So, to my first live encounter with British Sea Power at the Carling Academy, Birmingham, which is a lovely dark basement of a venue that looks as though it may have once been an underground car park and has Britains stickiest floor. So sticky, in fact, there were fifty or sixty pairs of shoes left in front of the stage at the end of the gig. I kid you not (well maybe a little).

First up was Matt Eaton, who has the deepest voice I've heard since Lee Marvin droned Wandrin' Star at my youthful self.

Matt performed a couple of acoustic numbers and an anecdote about being bitten by a spider in a Tesco bag before spilling a drink on his antique Gretch (gawd I've started noticing,) guitar. He was then joined on stage by his band 'The Modern Ovens' to rifle through a few quick Jonathan Richaman covers. Oddly, a couple of members the 'The Ovens' are dead ringers for a couple of members of British Sea Power. Coincidence, I assume? Got the toes tapping anyway.

Next up, LA band Film School, who were as good a support band as I've ever seen; And I once saw Catatonia open for Gene, so I think I can safely be called the world's biggest expert on that subject.

Film School look a real mixed bunch, with superb young female bass player, A lead singer who looked about fifty and a lead guitarist, Dave Dupois, who I couldn't take my eyes off. A bespactacled cross between Alan Davies and 'Sideshow' Bob Terwilliger, he would stand at the back of the stage, cautiously tiptoe towards his effects pedal, theatrically lift his leg and gently prod it to produce some fantastic change in their shimmering sound and then beat a crazy legged retreat to the back of the stage, where the whole pantomime would start again. Fabulous. Their album Hideout is the latest addition to my iPod. Must see!

The final chapter of the evening brought BSP to the stage, led by guitarist/singer/dreamboat Yan who is EXACTLY the same height as me (when he's standing on a five foot stage). They performed a good selection of tracks from Do You Like Rock Music.. including the obvious crowd pleasers Waving Flags and No Lucifer and the slightly awkward (to my ears) Canvey Island. The whole performance was flawless, and they seem to be at their absolute best during long instrumental breaks and cresendo's where just shouts and gutteral cries are shouted into the microphones. The chaotic finale involved one member poised precariously on top of an amp stack, another seemingly lost in and on top of the Mosh Pit and with a large furry monster prowling the stage, which was now resonating with a messy cacophonous hum of discarded guitars and their feedback. Then they were gone. The beautiful racket contining for minute or two, then abrubtly ceasing. A twee scratchy black and white 'The End' appearing on the projection screen at the back of the stage. as if we'd just watched a fifties public information film.

Unique, eccentric and glorious.

Fantastic!

2008-09-28T17:19:00.004+01:00

I see somebody or other won the Whatsit Grand Prix today, and another person extended their lead in the Driver's Championship. Is this the dullest 'sport' ever? Billions spent on watching a bunch of overpaid alpha playboys going around in circles, whilst commentators blither on about tenths of a second , the weight of cars after fuelling and the protocol of pitstops.

Obviously, golf is duller, but that's not a sport, that's just middle aged men hiding from their wives...

Tribute

2008-09-28T11:46:00.003+01:00

Well, there's another bit of my childhood gone.

Thanks for Butch Cassidy, Cool Hand Luke, Absence of Malice, The Sting, The Verdict and that Hitchcock film with Julie Andrews.

Not many real movie stars left...

Sunday in the park, with Alan

2008-09-21T20:22:00.004+01:00

Generic football Commentator: " Well that was a scintillating half of majestic football, now over to Alan Green for the second half."

Alan Green: " Well I don't know what game YOU were watching? I thought it was absolute rubbish. Neither side managed to complete a decent pass and one side had too much width, whilst the other didn't have enough. Really, both managers are competely clueless. All the officials are having a a nightmare of a game, and the referee shouldn't ever be put in charge of a professional football again. Serious incompetence. And the player who took is shirt off to celebrate his goal? WHAT WAS HE THINKING!. And the crowd have been utterly pathetic. I've haven't been at such a badly supported game since last Sunday. And both clubs need to sort themselves out. I've rarely seen such awfully chaired clubs. These multi-millionaire owners need to get a grip. These really are among the twenty worst run clubs in the Premier League. Pathetic!..."

*Sound of a radio smashing in South Staffordshire.

By the way...

2008-09-12T18:03:00.005+01:00

...I meant to tell you, but forgot. I'm on holiday. I'll be back on the 12th September. Which is today. In other words... I'm back. Great.

Whilst I've been away I seem to have aquired some 'Followers' (see panel, top right). That means I'm officially a Cult.

All Hail Me!

Who's laughing now?

2008-08-28T20:53:00.005+01:00

Not me.
My Mother in Law* has a theory. She thinks that all men become miserable when they hit middle age, and remain so until they fall willingly into their inevitable graves. I assume she's known one or two men in her life, and his not wholly basing this on the fact that I don't dance on the tables, or run around the house whooping when she comes to stay?

I was reflecting on this, whilst watching an old episode of Dad's Army the other night. I enjoyed it, but didn't laugh once. I can't use the excuse that I had seen it before and knew what was coming, because I didn't. My enjoyment was wholly based around the nostalgia and the warm feelings invoked by these cuddly duffers. Conclusion? Either it wasn't funny or I've lost my ability to find it funny?

I tried to think about anything on TV or Films that I've seen recently or even semi-recently that had made me laugh, and came up completely dry.

Now I don't think I have become a total miserable bastard. I laugh a lot in social situations, and at work we have moments of extreme hilarity daily. Usually in the middle of something quite stressful and the expense of some poor bugger who said or done something stupid, which has resulted in an extensive piss-take. Of course the 'poor bugger' is always out of earshot. We laugh a good deal though.

I'd also exclude live stand-up shows, which by virtue of the shared experience, rapport and atmosphere will have me rolling in the aisles. Unless it's Lenny Henry of course (his accent irritates me).

So are TV and Films not funny anymore? Is it that I've become like that legendary cheerful bastard, Paul Simon and '..I don't find this stuff amusin' anymore'?
Admittedly, I don't watch many new shows, but have tried to get into newer stuff like Little Britain and The Mighty Boosh, but both left me cold. I liked both The Office and Extras, and DO remember laughing at the Extras episode with Kate Winslet in. Once.
None of them are a patch on A Little Bit of Fry and Laurie or Vic Reeves Big Night Out which had my younger self bandaging my ribs.

Likewise with films. I've seen the latest American comedies with Saturday Night Live performers promoted into celluloid starring roles, Stiller and Ferrell and Carrell et al, but barely an 'hmph' of mirth has passed my lips at their 'hilarious' antics.
Nothing like the exhaustion I felt leaving a screening of The Man With Two Brains where I laughed so hard I almost broke in two.

So, am I wrong? Is anything funny today? Or is, as I'm starting to fear, my Mother in Law* right?

As a lazy end of the week embed, here's something that also made young VS laugh hard. Steve Martin, before he started taking himself too seriously, making a teenage Jonathan Ross look distinctly out of his depth..

*Argh!

Edge of reason?

2008-08-21T22:00:00.004+01:00

Ok. Even by my standards this is lax. I just got around to watching the first couple of episodes of BBC's landmark drama Edge of Darkness, some twenty six years after it first aired. I may have mentioned before that I'm not too good with scheduled TV. Anyway, good job I'd hung onto the Beta videocassettes and player, otherwise I'd have had nothing to watch last night.

Does anyone remember this six parter? Is it me, or is it slightly odd? A man who has just witnessed his only daughter's murder just ups and leaves Yorkshire for London to solve it ,with barely a moment of grief, pausing only to kiss her vibrator? Is this the way people behaved in 1985?

I can't wait for episode three.

Sorry, an ever shorter 'badly written TV review'. If you can even call it that?
As a consolation, here's yet another dog picture.

Lawks!

2008-08-14T23:00:00.002+01:00

..but my motivation has been low this last week. I'm in serious need of another holiday.
All I've done this last week is watched imported American TV. I have a new favourite. It's called Burn Notice and I'm not sure if it has aired or even will air in the UK. It's about a spy, Michael Westen, who's been 'burned' by his employers at Langley. That's to say he's been fired and cut off, and they could well be trying to kill him. Whilst trying to get to the bottom of this back story, he has to earn a crust, which he does by helping the citizens of Miami with their problems. it's all very undemanding and jokey. Pitched somewhere around Moonlighting, Magnum and The A Team, with a maybe a flavour of Christopher Nolan's Memento. It has Jeffrey Donavan in the lead, with solid support from Gabrielle Anwar (dubious Irish accent though), Sharon Gless and the peerless Bruce 'If Chins Could Kill' Campbell as his burned out sidekick.

Anyway, I liked it and watched the whole first season in the last week.

As all I've been able to muster is a very short 'badly written TV review' this week, here's a picture of a dog.

New Celebrity Quiz

2008-08-02T21:49:00.003+01:00

I see that worthless fiend Perry is threatening us with more of his puerile quizzes over the coming days.

Well I thought I'd dazzle you with another of my REAL quizzes before you get dragged into another one of his sleazy shams to win a non-existent Vauxhall Allegro.

My regular reader will know that I support the same football club as Rock Legend Robert Plant, and see him occasionally as we make our way to our seats. Today, at the pre-season friendly with Blackburn Rovers (Wolves 4 Blackburn 2, I thank you) he joined the line I was queuing in for refreshments.

So on to my Celebrity Rock God Killer Question for a REAL PRIZE

What was Mr Plant buying?

a) A Yorkie Bar?

b) A refreshing Oasis Summer Fruits beverage?

c) A perennial Black Country staple Balti Pie?

d) A Pasty?

e) A Stairway to Heaven?

The prize for our lucky winner will be one of whatever it was that Percy bought. Please be sure to leave you name, full address and any dates for planned holidays/weekends away with your answer.

I fully expect a 'What was Valentine Suicide Buying?' quiz to appear here by the end of the day, so, as a bonus, I bought a pasty.

Good luck!

Revolution

2008-07-29T22:44:00.004+01:00

If your around my age, you'll remember the video revolution. It seemed to start with the wealthier families, they suddenly had these new fangled boxes in their living rooms that could actually record television. More exciting for me was the fact you could choose films from the newly opening video rental outlets.

These are my fondly recalled early videos:-

The Wanderers - I haven't watched this since about 1981 so have no real idea whether it was any good. I'm guessing it wasn't.

The Warriors - I've still got a soft spot for this. For months it seemed that the corridors of my school ringed with "Warriors come out to playeee"

Rocky - Everyone's dad always wanted to watch this. Twice usually.

Flesh Gordon - Camp erotic parody even watched by parents. Dreadful I thought.

The Exorcist - Does anyone know why this loveable mouthy film critic Mark Kermode's favourite film? I watched it a couple of years ago and found it dull.
This and A Clockwork Orange and ET seemed to be around in a dreadful unwatchable pirate copy version.

Evil Dead - I remember feeling very uncomfortable watching this, as I'd been told it was the scariest film ever. Watched today it seems tame and funny.

I Spit On Your Grave - and the other video nasties (or video tasties, as my mate Mark re-christenened them). The Hills Have Eyes or Nazi Experiment Camp anyone? Didn't think so. The Last House on the Left rings a bell as being unpleasant, but it's OK 'cause it was made by Wes Craven?

The Thing - Still a firm favourite, and far scarier than Evil Dead.

An American Werewolf in London - Scarier than The Thing in parts, but hilarious in other. Jenny Agutter took her clothes of in this (and every*) film.

*OK she didn't take all her clothes of in The Railway Children, but she did wave her pants at a train.

Worse Song Ever?

2008-07-29T21:36:00.003+01:00

After extensive research and NOT just a lazy Youtube embed, I can announce the worst song ever recorded. I'm happy to be corrected, of course, but I think I've set the bar pretty low..

Lair of the Bloodsuckers

2008-07-21T21:06:00.001+01:00

From Journal of Valentine Suicide 19th July 2008

Have now left the safety and security of my beloved Staffordshire into the peculiar landscape of Shropshire. What manner of creature exist in this godforsaken place. My fiancee is travelling with me. I'm inclined to wish I'd left her behind. A sense of foreboding fills me, what dangers await us at our destination?

We approach Castle Visionsavers and Count Optometrist. Our coachman will only take us far as the car park, I sense that he may fear Count O, but Madame S assures me that the coach won't fit through the shopping centre's doors. The stories of decadence and bloodsucking told in the dark creepy Inn last night do not seem so amusing in the bright clear sunshine.

We enter the maze, follow a handy 'This way to Castle Visionsavers' sign and soon find ourselves at the gates.

Various shadowy shapes lurk in the shadows of this brightly-lit colourful den of inequity. moving with the odd lurching gait of the seasoned money-grabber.

Immediately one of them lunges for my wallet, but the plucky Mam'zelle wards the fiend off by brandishing a 'free eye test' voucher. It hisses and retreats into the shadows to lurk with some others of it's kind. These must be the less powerful Dispensing Opticians. "If that had been an Opthalmic we'd be two or three hundred quid poorer now!", Mam'zelle breathes.

She's spoken too soon and I find myself face to face with Count O. I can barely stand his fetid, slightly minty breath and the evil stench of pleasantly scented soap. "Don't look into his eyes!" cries Mme (why not? He looked into mine. With a shiny lighty stick). It's too late, he is holding me rapt in his evil gaze. I must hand over eighty quid for 'extra thin lenses' I must have a forty quid anti-scratch coating I must have anti-glare for thirty notes I must have photochromic lenses (and frames) AND I must have them done in one hour (a tenner). I can feel my bank account being drained. Mam'zelle breaks the spell with the magic incantation "WE'LLHAVELASERSURGERY!! and" drags me outside. We will return when it's dark, to continue our search for Evil Count O's licence to print money...

Next week, our intrepid duo drive a stake through a Vets heart before he can say "Is the animal insured, sir?"

Come again?

2008-07-19T11:24:00.011+01:00

Whilst I was writing about bumper stickers, I noticed lots of the Christian fish symbol , which you'll have all (both of you, hello mum) seen on cars. There's a response sticker from the pro-evolutionists...

The debate for Intelligent Design versus evolution is being had with bumper stickers. I'd put myself in the Darwin camp, if pushed (like anyone cares), but there's something a little smug about those 'evolve' stickers
The Darwin fish recently got banned by a school board in the U.S. So maybe it's six of one..?

~o~

What have they done to the layout of LastFM.? I can't find my way around?!

~o~

The new James Bond film is called Quantum of Solace. Eh?
One of Timothy Dalton's 007 outings was changed to Licence to Kill from Licence Revoked, because the producers were worried that some of the potential audience wouldn't understand the word 'revoked'. Not sure how they're going to cope with Quantum of Bloody Solace?

Is Modern Life Rubbish?

2008-07-17T22:46:00.007+01:00

Yes, quite frankly.

We have TV's that are thinner, but the picture is worse. Apparently the widespread introduction of High Def should bring it back up to the same quality.

The introduction of High Def TV will bring so much clarity of image crystal clear sound and vivid colours it'll be like watching TV with a hangover.

The High Def DVD/ Blu-Ray DVD introduction will eventually phase out the legacy DVD products and allow us to re -buy our DVD collections

When we do manage to tune out all that vivid colour and clarity, there's nothing to watch except the fifty derivatives of Dancing with the Stars/ Auditions for Musicals or that awful Doctor Who remake.

We have MP3's that don't sound as good as the CD's.

When we've ripped all our tracks and tranferred them to our iPods we can transmit them into our car stereos further reducing the listening experience.

We have jobs that involve just looking at emails all day and not actually doing anything.

The world is ending with temperatures getting hotter/colder and wetter/dryer.

Instead of seeing someone for a drink, you can have a virtual drink with them on Facebutt, which is a far more rewarding.

All our youth seem hell-bent on carry weapons as a deterrent in case thay get attacked, whilst the government (who also seems hell-bent on stockpiling weapons, in case we get attacked) seem powerless to do anything about it.

The price of fuel has gone up, which should finally encourage the use of public transport which doesn't go anywhere we want to go at the times we want to go there.

Councillor Christine Mills is Mayor of Wolverhampton. Whaddya mean you don't care? We have to listen to whingeing about Boris 'Who Cares' Johnson.

David Beckham's got his own range of pens out. Apparently they stop you moving your lips when you write.

Eveyone now has a mobile phone so they can be reached anywhere. I don't want to be reached anywhere.

Hehe. I'm turning into Terry Wogan.

My other blog is a Porsche.

2008-07-12T01:05:00.006+01:00

I once started to write a post about the never ending inquest of Princess Diana. It had a crass joke in it about the Paps being able to follow her because of the 'Princess On Board' sticker on the back of the Merc. Haha. This originated from a general irritation after following a car with a 'Child on Board' sticker. When an opportunity to gently overtake this vehicle, with the merest caress of the accelerator so as not to wake the presumably slumbering infant, and obviously being ultra cautious so that the gentle lamb did was not poisoned by my passing exhaust fumes, I couldn't help notice that the mother driving that car was not only smoking, but also was failing to have an actual 'Child On Board'. Surely there should be a law ensuring that people take these stickers out of their cars, when they've dropped ths sprogs off, so I can drive like 'Twatbag' Clarkson?

Today I saw a black Fiat with an obligatory ego twatplate and a huge pink logo on the back informing me that this particular Italian rustbucket was 'Powered by Fairydust'.

Is it against the law to send my evil army of seagulls against these drivers?

Just asking?

Where do you go to my lovely...

2008-07-11T23:21:00.014+01:00

Is this blog still updated? Who by? Ah yes, that'd be me then...
It's been a while, but life has a habit of getting in the way.
To get me back in the swing here's a list of songs on the vsPod that are currently have me hitting the 'replay' at least once:-

The Zombies - Time of the Season
Lovely. Probably overused and overplayed but lovely. Especially now, in the summer, when you're out in the fields, under a tree sheltering from the rain . Trying not to get struck by lightning.

The Who - I Can't Explain
I hate The Who. Almost as much as I hate The Stones. This is just irresistable. Makes me want to storm the beaches of Brighton and ..er...pick up a bit of litter.

Elvis Presley - King Creole
A song about jelly roll, meat and greens. None the worse for it in my worthless opinion.

Fleetwood Mac - Man of the World
"..and there's no-one I'd rather be. I just wish that I'd never been born" Ego and self loathing clash in this piece of genius about 'pretty girls'. Now let's get Stevie Nicks in...

Neil Finn - She Will Have Her Way
'e'd have given old Lennon and McCartney a run for the money in the sweet melody and deft lyrics stakes. His brother and son can turn their hand to it when requested as well..

British Sea Power -Lights Out For Darker Skies
Second only to Elbow in my albums of the year. Yan dreamy etc.

Elbow - The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver
Second to no-one in my albums of the year (like anyone cares). A bit mournful this one, which I like.

Heavy Trash - Crazy Pritty Baby
Jon Spencer does Eddie Cochrane. Mad and brilliant.

David Bowie - The Supermen
I've got this as a bonus track on what is probably my all time favourite album (like anyone cares), Hunky Dory. The Dame sounding like the bastard son of Anthony Newley and Syd Barratt.

The Velvet Undergound - Sweet Jane
I read somewhere that Lou Reed thought The Cowboy Junkies cover of this was an improvement. Far be it from me to disagree with Lou, but he's wrong.