Funny 404 page

Cat bowling. It's a cool game, I just got 93, is that good in bowling?

So, Slobodan Miselovic is a bit too poorly to continue with his trial at the moment. Poor wee dab. Nothing too trivial I hope.

Christine Hamm has a couple of new poems on her blog.

Polly Toynbee was one of the most robust liberal supporters of the war on Afghanistan. Does she still think we did the right thing?

I have posted about posh Nicaraguan revolutionary Gioconda Belli before, here she gives another interview.

I have tried to be good and not post too many Guardian links, but here we go, 3 in a row. Winston Silcott, who is due for release soon and who will almost certainly be the victim of a vile witch hunt, shares his thoughts.

Whoo chuffin hoo! The best news I have had in years. Now I can tell Mrs Buddha to put those two housebricks down.

My country loving fellow Bluenose, Hugh Mungus has complained on a football message board that I only answered 4 of The Bluetitch 5 but generously offers an alternative: do you believe in ghosts and have you ever seen one ?.
Well. Funny he should ask that. Last summer we rented a cottage on the Cardigan coast. It was a beautiful place, very olde worlde and unspoilt with all original features. Low beams, window seats, nooks and chuffing crannies everywhere.Very big and spacious. The owner had filled the place with hundreds and hundreds of books and toys from her nippers childhood, which must have been the sixties, and which we all loved. We had a woodland walk past a stunning waterfall to what amounted to a private beach and 2 other very good, very quiet, secluded beaches within minutes. We had beautiful mountains to the back of us, and within 20-30 minutes either way a bewildering array of beautiful beaches, coastal footpaths, towns, villages and scenery. A perfect spot, our days were filled from the minute we got up to the minute we arrived back, usually between about 8 and 10.
The kids naturally would be knackered, so would the Mrs and they would soon all be in the land of nod. Purely for the sake of making an incredibly cosy place even cosier we would get the coal fire going every night. The rest of em would be spark out and I would get the rocking chair (yes, chuffin rocking chair) close up to the fire and read for several hours, all the while quaffing a nice red and filling my face with crisps.
More than once, every night in fact, I had the feeling of an otherwordly presence. I am convinced I saw, several times, a ghostly, gossamer shape move from the stairs through a kids little play room into the kitchen. I am convinced of it.
I said nowt, assuming it was due to a combination of unaccustomed fresh air, tiredness and alcohol. Nor did I want to put the shits up Mrs Buddha, who can be a bit jumpy about these things. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, we both said we could do with a little break and she said perhaps we could phone the owner of that cottage to see if there was any availability for a weekend. Of course it is haunted I said, jauntily. Ho Ho she chuckled and that was that. Later she asked if I had been serious, and I admitted my tale. She said she had felt the same thing from day one, and pointed out she did not go upstairs alone. The visitors book had a similar story in it.
Chuffin spooky man. I would go back there, but not on my own!

Garrison Keillor is pissed off with his elected representative. Seriously pissed off. It is chuffin marvelous to see a bit of passion, fair play to the dude... this is a Salon premium article but you can access it if you subject yourelf to a Mercedes ad.

Something very spooky just happened. When I clicked to see if the link worked, Hugh Mungus' ghost question appeared.

The next big thing will be Jesse Malin.

I have always tended towards the Rousseauist notion that man is born innately good. As I get older though and more cynical, and increasingly tired of having to deal with unneccessary shit resulting from simple anti social behaviour, I struggle to hold on to that view.
I haven't yet become Hobbesian but I am more inclined to believe that both views might have some merit. Naturally, innately, if you like, I would tend to disregard the sort of evolutionary psychology espoused by Steven Pinker, but I am becoming convinced. Anyway, you can't help but warm to a bloke so adept at pissing off left, right, centre and the God squad.
Good interview with him here, It has provided me with the perfect excuse when I am bollocked for being late with some piece of work or other, "It wasn’t me, it was my amygdala". I would recommend you do not try to read it while being assailed on all sides by over tired and hyperactive nippers.

Alien Tiles game. I am crap at it.

Legendary West Brom striker Jeff Astle was renowned for his heading ability. Unfortunately it killed him.

I have banged on about Simon Armitage and his poetry before. Here is an article by him on his relationship with Bob Dylan.

I am not surprised that US soldiers brutalised and humiliated terror suspects. I am not angered by it, or outraged, just saddened. No one should be treated like that, especially by people who claim to hold the moral high ground.

8 million stories in a New York minute.

Oh Bugger! Fat isn't good for you after all. Unless you are a drug company, then it's very good for you.

Warren Zevon talks to Rolling Stone.

FLOATING
Our canoe idles in the idling current
Of the tree and vine and rush enclosed
Backwater of a torpid midwestern stream;
Revolves slowly, and lodges in the glutted
Waterlilies. We are tired of paddling.
All afternoon we have climbed the weak current,
Up dim meanders, through woods and pastures,
Past muddy fords where the strong smell of cattle
Lay thick across the water; singing the songs
Of perfect, habitual motion; ski songs,

Nightherding songs, songs of the capstan walk,
The levee, and the roll of the voyageurs.
Tired of motion, of the rhythms of motion,
Tired of the sweet play of our interwoven strength,
We lie in each other's arms and let the palps
Of waterlily leaf and petal hold back
All motion in the heat thickened, drowsing air.
Sing to me softly, Westron Wynde, Ah the Syghes,
Mon coeur se recommend à vous, Phoebi Claro;
Sing the wandering erotic melodies
Of men and women gone seven hundred years,
Softly, your mouth close to my cheek.
Let our thighs lie entangled on the cushions,
Let your breasts in their thin cover
Hang pendant against my naked arms and throat;
Let your odorous hair fall across our eyes;
Kiss me with those subtle, melodic lips.
As I undress you, your pupils are black, wet,
Immense, and your skin ivory and humid.
Move softly, move hardly at all, part your thighs,
Take me slowly while our gnawing lips
Fumble against the humming blood in our throats.
Move softly, do not move at all, but hold me,
Deep, still, deep within you, while time slides away,
As the river slides beyond this lily bed,
And the thieving moments fuse and disappear
In our mortal, timeless flesh.

KENNETH REXROTH




The web works it's magic again. Yesterday I had never heard of Kenneth Rexroth, today I am engaged in a frantic search to find anything I can, by, or about him. He seems to be a bit of a neglected genius, in this house anyway; I am probably the only bloke in the world who has managed to remain ignorant of him. Lots of very good stuff here. Of course clicking around trying to find stuff has taken me to many wonderful places, including the site from which I nicked the above photograph. There are loads more there, all for sale too if you are not short of a bob or three.
Tomorrow, I shall go into work and tell the fuck faced cowbag to cool her brains.
Amazon will never go broke while I have web access.

Swearing Xylophone. Very sweary. Very childish. Very funny.

The nominations for the Radio 3 awards for world music are out. Biographies, links and some tracks from the artists are available on the radio 3 site.

J.K Galbraith on the perils and costs of empire. Scary.

Interview with the dude responsible for my fighting technique is unstoppable; my new filing technique is unstoppable and the imperious, majestic, get your war on.

Aphrodisiacs.

I really like the Barefoot Doctor, I think he is a cool dude. I have tried all sorts of his techniques for various things and none of them work but I still like him; if I concentrated more they would probably work. The Observer has published a really long extract from his new book, but it doesn't seem to be available online. The Observer is always worth getting hold of anyway but this week it's worth a quid just for that.
His weekly articles are available.
Meditation techniques

This cat cracks me up.

I wonder what they would make of the Barefoot Doctor at The Sceptics Dictionary.

The mystery of time and space is brilliant, but liable to send you loopy.

The world of dancing cats

From 1995 to earlier this year, Paul Grivas took a disposable plastic camera with him everywhere he went, and he went to a lot of places. The results are astonishing.

I am not generally a fan of cd's on magazine covers, I certainly wouldn't be tempted to buy a magazine just because it has a cd on, although I do buy magazines with such accoutrements. Uncut occasionally has something good on the cover, but not often, it's usually crap, good magazine though. There is an exception. The current edition of Wire has a double cd on the cover which celebrates 20 years of the magazines existence. It is brilliant, probably my album of the year, well worth buying the magazine for the cd alone.
£3.30. What a chuffin bargain. It has some seriously out there stuff on it and some seriously beautiful stuff and some seriously groovy stuff. The credit card is about to take another hammering. Some of the stuff it has on it is Wire, I had forgotten what a glorious cacophony they made, one of the best gigs I ever saw at Barbarellas was Wire.
Best of all though, it has a track by Liars, which glories in the best song title ever: "Grown men don't fall in the river just like that"

Mad items for sale. Makes me smile anyway.

Click to engage. Very simple, very cool, little shockwave thingys. I say simple, it's all relative of course.

No need to be bored ever again, you can play shoe, anywhere.

Is Vic there? The new Subway Sect album is supposed to be brilliant, but I haven't heard it. If its anything like as good as this interview with Vic Godard, it will be worth hearing. Be warned, you could easily get lost in all the links provided within that article. One of them pointed in the direction of Cowboys International. I had forgotten all about them, I used to love em. I'm sure I have a record of theirs in the garage.

First you build em up, then you knock em down. Collapsing teddy bears.

The White House provides full text of Bush's comments following the election reults. Made me smirk.

The great contrarian, Christopher Hitchens, gets some back.

I am happy now. Blogger seems to be working again, and I have found a list. A very poxy list it has to be said, but a list nevertheless. The BBC seems to have asked for a vote on the best songs from 50 years of the charts. This is what it came up with

Pete Townsend on the Kurt Cobain diaries.

I saw an interview with Damon Gough somewhere today, can't remember where, in which he is complimented on the sexiness of his new record. The boy acknowledges that his music is sexy and bemoans that this fact is often missed, because he is no oil painting. So I went back to the "The Hour of Bewilderbeast" It is much sexier than I thunk. Very sexy in fact.
Sexier than the sexiest sentence.

I don't know if it's to my credit or my shame that I can still get excited by some new music I hear, but I do anyway, not very often though. I have a new name to add to my recent rantings on the Likes of Manu Chao, Mariza, Ozomatli and the Pernice Brothers: Brendan Benson. I knew he was good from his Cardiff performance, but good gigs, especially by whippersnappers do not necessarily translate into good albums. His does. At one point it excited me as much as the Pernice Brothers did last year, but it's not as good as that, in truth. It is very, very good though, and is my constant companion in the car. He is touring the UK in small venues and is worth searching out, you will be able to say you were there when he was good in years to come, when he is a dinosaur.

A bipartisan anti war blog. While I have to applaud it really, I can't get on with it. Left and right should not be natural bedfellows, it is like agreeing with a Villa fan: unnatural and not to be encouraged. Worth a look though.

Not content with posing alternative Friday imponderables, Bluetitch is trying to get us all in the kitchen, I post her recipe as it came to me, looks like it's worth a try:
1 Packet of frozen summer fruits defrosted.
1 Large tub of greek unsweetened natural yoghurt
1 Small tub of double cream
Lots of soft brown sugar.
Method:
Empty defrosted summer fruits into a dish.
Mix yoghurt and cream together.
Pile on top of summer fruits but do not mix them together.
Sprinkle the sugar generously over the yoghurt and cream topping.
Leave to chill in fridge overnight.
The sugar should have "melted".
It doesn't look wonderfully attractive but tastes wonderful!!!!!

Unsurprisingly, I can't leave it at that. It has reminded me of a recipe so simple I forgot all about it, but someone who I rarely see asks for it every time I see her.
Loads of frozen raspberries
Couple of tubs mascarpone
Caster sugar
Tip raspberries into gratin dish
Give mascarpone a little whizz to soften then tip over berries
Top with sugar
Stick under very hot grill for a couple of minutes.
The cheese should be nice and warm and a bit runny, but berries still very cold. It's beautiful man.
You could macerate berries in Kirsch or some such, but it doesn't really need it.

The Friday Five.
I can see why there would be some excitement in the US about elections, but this weeks 5 doesn't inspire me.
1. Did you vote in your last elections?
Of course, although in the past I have deliberately spoilt a paper, you must vote, even if it's only to protest.
2. Do you know who your elected representatives are?
I know my MP, my Euro MP, my AM and my local councillor. Solid citizens every one of them. It is an honour and a privilege to have them represent me.
3. Have you ever contacted an elected representative? If so, what was it about?
No, but plenty of the hypocritical, self serving, spineless bastards contact me, frequently. This includes the current Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.
4. Have you ever participated in a demonstration?
Yep. of course. When I was a lad I was full of righteous anger and would spend my Saturday morning floggin left wing rags at Ladywood shopping centre, or, rather, being spat at and abused by skinheads while failing to sell any left wing rags. I would attend any demo going. Some of em were brilliant to tell the truth, just for the football style violence. I remember very well a fascist march that got stopped in Digbeth, or it could have been a pro I.R.A march that got stopped by fascists, it all becomes a blur. It was Digbeth anyway and very violent. As a matter of course I would go on anti Fascist demos at the rememberance day parade in London. These were well policed so quite safe. It could get a bit hairy on the way home stopping for a piddle though. There were many others.
There was one in Handsworth where all sorts of lefties had turned out to protest the presence of some Pakistani general. It was noticeable that it was all white, bearded well spoken folk taking over Handsworth with their megaphones and leaflets. Most Asians I tried to hand a leaflet to looked at me with contempt, and the truth is I had no idea why I was there that day.
The last march I went on was to protest at Clause 28, and that finished it for me. I was in Cardiff at the time, which is a small town rather than a city, so, unlike in Birmingham, everyone was recognisable. Recognisable from the anti vivisection league, the various Cuba, Nicaragua and El Salvador campaigns; any poxy little campaign that was happening in the cloistered world of the university. That day I thought fuck it, it's just a right of passage for the middle classes, who, like me in Handsworth, know nothing of the finer details. My marching days were over. I still had football though, until the middle classes took that over too. Viva a Revolution!
5. Have you ever volunteered in an election? What was the result?
When I was a young Militant, an entryist, I wandered around Edgbaston one night to encourage people to vote Labour. The few that answered the door did so only to tell me to fuck off. Told to fuck off for encouraging folk to vote for someone I did not believe in myself. Welcome to the land of Alice.

The Bluetitch Five. As imponderable as ever, but at least there are only 5.
1/ If you could go back in time to any period and place BEFORE you were born, where/when would it be?
See what I mean about imponderable, this is bloody impossible to answer, the old dear does like us to get our thinking caps on.
Time for a shameful admission. Back in the day, before punk, before anything really, when I was staill at school, aged about 13 I suppose, I really dug David Essex. Not Bowie or Eno or Ferry or the New York Dolls. David Essex. It was the gypsy look and ear ring I think. Maybe there was some latent homo eroticism there, he wasn't a puffy looking dude like Ferry or Bowie, but was pretty in his way, with his curls, but definitely a guy.. I got me ear pierced in 75, way before the mainstream, and the added shame is that Essex was my inspiration. The point being, at the time I loved the film, soundtrack and book of That'll Be The Day.. Even now, I want to be a greaser in a 1950's fairground.
Alternatively, there are the gangs in Coppolas 70's teen flicks, Rumblefish and the Outsiders also set in the 50's .
Looks like I want to have been a teenager in the fifties. Those dudes had it very lucky economically actually, but that's another story.
Shit. American Graffitti too. Bring back the fifties.

2/ You can be a 'fly on the wall' anywhere now. Where are you?
Another imponderable, invite yourself to be a fly on the wall for any moment in history. Still it's a piece of piss for those of who really know our history and our Calderwoods. I would be privy to the converstion between Freddie Goodwin and Willie Bell which resulted in the dropping of Steve Bryant and Jimmy Calderwood for the Fulham semi final replay in 75. Resulting in the defeat which led me to be involved in football violence in an a nakedly aggressive way for the only time.

3/ You have the chance to change one thing you have done in your life. What is it
Can't answer that, too hard.
4/ You have the chance to change one thing someone else has done in the past. What is it?
At the risk of sounding trite, I wouldn't have ordered British Forces to sink the Belgrano, killing several hundred young Argentine boys even though it was sailing away from trouble. Sorry, out of all of history, that is what first sprang to mind. Quite unnecesary slaughter. I don't pray but if I did it would be for their mothers.

5/ You have one last chance. The world ends in an hour from now. What would you do?
Finish my bottle.
Gather the family around in a big cuddle.
Weep copiously.

Bloody hell. What a week. To top it all my littlest cherub did something to the pc as I switched it on and it's taken 5 and a half hours to get into the bloody thing. And I have just remembered it's only Thursday, which hasn't improved my mood.
What can I say about the multi talented Sarah, the eighth wonder of the world? I can't tell you what she did because I don't know what she did, but she did it, as it were. The whole thing had gone tits up and was going to stay that way, but she dug deep into my template and not only sorted the balls up out but generally improved things too. We don't even know each other. I am more grateful than I could possibly describe. Sarah, thank you.

Normal service will resume at some point soon I hope.

Given my obsessions with the mythology of New York and food, I wasn't about to pass by this NY Times article on Pizza.

Danny Provenzano is a New Jesey wise guy, or maybe he isn't. He is definitely a character.

Depressing but crucial photo journalism from Angola.

Plep posted a link to Malham and surrounding areas in North Yorkshire. It's worth a look I suppose if only for some nice photos of the area. I have very fond memories of the place because I once spent a week there as a 14 year old on a school field trip. I learnt a lot, though not much of it had anything to do with geography.

Any excuse to big up Manu Chao, this time in relation to his previous band Mano Negra. I noticed they have a compilation out in the US, well they have one available here too. If they had been a British or US band they would have been as big and important as The Clash or Nirvana. Well, the Specials anyway. This bloody internet costs me a fortune.

I have burnt me hand on a sparkler. It hurts like FUCK. Going for a cup of tea and lie down.

Whoops a bleeding daisy, I appear to have cocked up, big time. Good job it's only a bleeding blog.

Well, let this be a lesson to you, don't mess with things you don't undestand. Like HTML, for instance. Someone, who seems to be pretty amazing really, very kindly and selflessly sorted out the mess that was my assortment of links and whatnot, Christ knows how, and e mailed me the code. What she hadn't bargained for was my unrivalled capacity to be anything other than a clueless chuffin muppet. Anyway, it seems to be sort of sorted out now. Anything I posted before today is archived, (why? how? God knows, don't ask me). My links and what not are indeed much easier on the eye and still work and can be found waaaayy down the page.
An almighty big thanks to Sarah, who I shan't link to at this point. Despite my stupidity I am more grateful than you can imagine for your thoughts, your skill, your effort and your help. Anyone who believes in such stuff should send Karmic goodness her way, she deserves it.
I'm going for a cup of tea and a lie down.

Bleeding hell, it's like year zero on here, you will have to excuse me if I go a bit link crazy. As this seems to be the start of a new era I will commence with an article which is sports related but that I would recommend to anyone. A few weeks ago I posted some stuff about the British boxer, Ricky Hatton. I said he was brilliant at his game, but had some irritatng and alarming traits. In the end however, I decided he was probably a nice guy, not that it matters. Well, he is a very nice and humble guy, as are the rest of his family.

I posted this as long ago as, er, yesterday. In the circumstances it bears repeating. Falafel game.

I am almost embarrassed to admit my favourite poem is He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, by Yeats but there you go.Yeats is one of my favourite poets, full stop, it's just that one particularly moves me. So thanks to y2karl at mefi for this pretty definitive link to his works.

Kevin Smith, is keeping an online diary while he shoots his new film. Good stuff.

I always liked Michael Foot, even when the right wing press ridiculed him as a bumbling, scruffy oaf and the left lambasted him for being too right wing. He always seemed to maintain a certain dignity through it all. Good interview with him here by Simon Hattenstone. Nice to see you can reach 90 and still retain all your faculties.

Richard Goldstein, in The Village Voice, takes on the lefty warmongers.

Once a Catholic. War on Iraq would shame the world. There goes the Catholic church again, heaping guilt on anyone who might happen to be passing by. Agree with the report though.

Courtesy of Plep, a fascinating rogues gallery of mugshots taken by the West Midlands police in the 1880's and beyond.

Some interesting stuff on inequality in the U.S.A.

Google appears to be down, as does Blogger. I never realised how much I had come to rely on Google. I am bereft.

The Christian Science Monitor covered the recent Iraqi referendum. While it was there it sought the views of those who would otherwise remain unheard. Interesting stuff, no way of knowing how widespread dissent is though.

The war on terror is far from won. Never fear though, Bush has a secret army who will win it for us.

Falafel game.

I have a bit of a reputation at work for being a little outspoken, outrageous even. If something needs saying, I can't help myself, it gets said. If something doesn't need saying, I will blurt it out anyway. My Mrs calls me the Johnny Vegas of the profession. I am not sure she means it as a compliment, but I will take it as one. Here is an interview with Johnny about holidays at Butlins.


3 beautiful points, they will come in very handy.

See if you can get the sled through the ring of fire.

Joel Veitch kitten tribute to DJ Jam Master.

The Friday 5, despite the massive potential for rambling I shall desist.
1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith?
I was brought up a Catholic and attended Catholic schools. Church on Sunday was mandatory, or at least the leaving of the house pretending to be going to church was mandatory. Sometimes we would get caught out as the old man would ask what mass we had been to and we would say the same one he had been too, and he would point out he hadn't seen us there, then he would be in a monstrous mood.


2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not?

No I don't, I never really did. I never believed in God, although I was in absolute terror of him anyway. I would never practice Catholicism I think it is a monstrously negative religion, completely based on fear. If I played up the bastard priests and teachers would tell me my mom was watching everything I did. They said God and my mom could read my thoughts, for fucks sake! So, even if I thought bad things, God and the old lady would see, if I did bad things; likewise. I heard this shit from the age of about 5, maybe earler from the priests. It is tantamount to abuse. What kind of an evil git would terrify a child like that: your dead mother is watching your every move sonny, so shape up. Christ on a bike. Given what we now now about the Catholic church, not just the abuse, Opus Dei as well, I am convinced it is evil. Except I don't believe in evil as a concept, but that is another story.

3. What do you think happens after death?
We burn, or rot. So we should make the best of the one life we have.

4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)?
I despise all religious rituals.

5. Do you believe people are basically good?
Like Rousseau, I believe we are born innately good and are corrupted by society. Or religion.

Steve Bell on the conservatives.

Bluetitch, the old dear, has taken herself off to try and rediscover her youth, it seems. Not to worry, Hugh Mungus has come up with an alternative Friday 5, and it's pretty good. You just wouldn't get this camaraderie and comradeship from Villa fans.
1/ Where would you like to die most :
Old, in bed, painlessly, smiling.
2/ You had to be a native of any country not in UK , where ?
Piddle of piss this one Spain.
3/ If you could uninvent anything non life threatening what would it be ?
Religion, although that is very hazardous to the lives of millions so it's a wrong answer I suppose.
4/ Best idea , you've never gone through with ?
This is a very boring answer I am afraid. When I finished my degree I had the opportunity to spend a year at the Cardiff School of Journalism, but would have had to fund myself. Or, I could have done a one year conversion course to law. My Mrs at the time would have worked to see me through either, but I declined. Instead I worked for a year then got very well funded by the home office to do a two year course qualifying in my current career. Very bad move, should have gone with the first option.
5/ Most violent thing you've ever done ?
I heve never really done anything very violent. When I got into scraps as a nipper I was more interested in self preservation than hurting the other kid. I really had no interest in inflicting pain on others, probably because I knew God and the old lady were omniscient and I would spend the hereafter atoning for my sins in chuffin purgatory. Likewise in the golden era of hooliganism, I was always one of the many running around on the periphery, not one of the few doing any actual fighting. I have had it on good authority though, that emotionally, I am a mean motherfucker.
Being a protege of Bluetitch, Mr Mungus cannot stick to five.
What is the biggest waste of money you have ever made ?
Polyphonic Spree, without a shadow of a doubt.

I needed some respite from the psychological warfare I am engaged in with my fuck faced gaffer today, so booked a day off. One nipper in school, one at Grans and the littlest darling no one would be crazy enough to look after, not for all the tea in China. So me and the Mrs and the cherub headed off, very early to Cardiff. Me and Mrs Buddha hardly see each other these days, we both work and between that and collecting the nippers from their various locations then gettin them out and back again to and from their various extra curricular activities, not to mention all the humdrum but exhausting household tasks, we have become a little estranged from one another. Today we had about 4 hours just for ourselves and the littlest one. And we found each other again, remembered why we love each other so much, not loved, love. I am lucky man, but then she is a lucky woman.

To misquote, Goodfellas my big brother, who is supposed to look after me a little bit, is being an unconscionable pain in the ass.

I lied, there is a ritual I love. Nine carols and lessons from Kings on Christmas Eve. It's not really religious though, more symbolic of religion. But it transcends bullshit , it's not the songs, its not the fact that it is the upper middle class at worship, it is an expression of joy. And that will do for me, the rest of us can contribute what we like, nobody cares. Thanks Sarah

Bleedin hell it's been a miserable day in work, it's a good job I am of a gentle disposition or I would marmalise someone. It's driven me to drink. I never (well, rarely) drink midweek, but I was drawn by some strange force to the wine department at Sainsburys on the way home. Now I'm home, getting stuck in.

Things seemed to be improving when I noticed Aki has updated. Since starting writing for the Times, he seems to have lost a little vim, it could have something to do with being managed by Trevor Francis though, I suppose.

Interesting piece on the delicate lingusitics displayed by much of the western media in describing the Chechen hostage takers.

Famous Belgians: Plastic Bertrand. He really is plastic, he hasn't aged in about 25 years, unless there is a photo him rotting somewhere. If you are outside of the UK and under about 40, this will mean nothing to you, just pretend you didn't see it.

Anna Politkovskaya is the journalist who went into the Moscow theatre to negotiate with the Chechens. This is her account.

N*E*R*D wins the Shortlist Prize. I have never heard of the buggers.

Michael Moore writes to Charlton Heston

If you are anything like me you will find this updated version of the visual thesaurus mesmerising.

There have been some great links on Metafilter this last couple of days. jnthngng posted several links to the sort of folk philospher of Turkey Hodja . It's very gentle folk wisdom. It' s the sort of thing which will appeal to lovers of Svejk .It also reminded me a bit, in tone, of Graham Greenes "Monsignor Quixote", which I will now have to reread.

Iconomy posted a great set of links on the Brothers Grimm, who were really quite gruesome, this one being my favourite.

George_Spiggott posted a cool link to some very old fashioned posters that have been appearing in London.

A fantastic night for barkingness at the football. Bayern Munich not only failed to qualify for the next stage of the champions league, they didn't even manage to qualify for the Eufa cup. Manchester Utd got humiliated 3-0 against Maccabi Haifa. Grimbsy let in five goals at home against Burnley, but scored six themselves and Andrew Johnson, who couldn't hit a cows arse with a banjo when he played for us, scored his second hat trick in four days for Crystal Palace. There was also a record low crowd for Wimbledon, who could attract only 840 paying customers. I see this last one as a triumph for the genuine supporter, who has shown the money men that he won't be taken for granted. Let it be a lesson to all the corporate asset strippers.

Click on a helmet and a hungry American gets a can of soup.

Yet another Wilco link, although is Wilco related really, being an interview with the guy who made the film.

You can make up some very groovy tunes with these singing horses.

Russian Roulette with a twist. If you lose the bet, you strip. A bit stupid but it might pass 5 minutes.

John Lanchester, a middle class intellectual on yobbish footballers. Mind you , he has a point.



The New York Press on The Streets

Its getting dark really early, the Indian summer has long gone, it's going to get colder and darker and windier. November is a miserable month. Why not spend it writing a novel?

There is a wall in Oakland that has become a bit of a mecca for taggers. Read all about it.

Sex. Loads and loads of it, more than you can shake a stick at.

Autumn Leaves, by James Sallis

These pool games are just about as good as they come.

It will be an emotional day at St Andrews. Aliou Cisse, our midfielder, has just returned from Senegal following the loss of 11 of his family members in the ferry disaster. Funny how we hear very little about that, even though well over a thousand people died.
Mirror article
IC Birmingham article
Interview with Cisse in Guardian
The story has even made the Toronto Sun
Interview with Robbie Savage.

Thanks to John, from a Blues message board for the pic. Slightly bigger thanks to Ragamuffin for providing the squashed up version that fits on this page. I am going to have to learn how to do a template which doesn't leave half the page blank.


Gram Parsons had stated, apparently, that when he died he wished to be burned in the desert, which led to an interesting and bizarre episode. The above photo is of a Parsons fan burning an effigy of him at some Gramfest. Barking.
A little bio of Parsons.

How have you been sleeping? All you could wish to know about sleep.

Joel Veitch does the Vines

Clowns are a pestilence upon this land. A poem and animation from the guy who made the Spicy Brains thingy. This link is most definitely worth clicking, and the short wait is worthwhile.

I love you more than kittens



Never eat yellow snow. Create a work of art from piddle then pass it on. Pee Mail.

Make your own Bush speech.

Arts and Letters Daily has reappeared.

As a general rule, I am not much given to passing on the thoughts of our religious leaders. This however, is worth a look. It's a thingy on why a variety of religions or faiths would be against going to war with Iraq. It's also a pretty decent general philosophy on how we should conduct ourselves.

Interview with Bjork

When come back bring pie. Weebl is going to be on MTV.

The Friday Five is a bit uninspiring so I can't be arsed. Bluetitch, however is never short of five (million) pointless questions, so I will have a go at hers. She should set herself up as an alternative Friday Five. The old dear seems to be in a bit of a bad mood, there is something of a hate motif going on.

1)What food do you hate?
The simple answer is semolina, but that would only really refer to the stuff we were served up in Holy Souls all those years ago. I made it fairly regularly for all the nippers when they were just starting to come off the tit, and it was ok; I couldn't have eaten a bowl of it though. Also it is good as part of a bread mixture, gives a very nice texture. Also I don't have to eat it if I don't want to, so really it represents a memory of a food I once hated, rather than a food I actually hate.
The real answer is mass produced, factory farmed crap which gets served up in our pubs and cafes as food, when it is anything but. It is very easy to knock out a simple, cheap and edible meal or snack: go to any run down bar in France or Spain if you don't believe me.
In the UK quality is an alien concept and "value" is all. The trouble is, its a queer concept of value which concentrates on knocking out the the cheapest tat at the cheapest price, no matter what the cost to the animal or environment. Not to mention our long term health, or the fact it tastes of nothing. I hate all British food as it is served up outside my house I suppose.
2)What habit do you have that you hate but can't stop?
oo er Mrs, you really don't want to know.
3)What "fashion" item of any decade do you hate?
Well, it used to be shell suits or any other type of leisure wear. It was a completely value laden stance because really I despised what the clothing represented, rather than the clothes themselves, so I was despising my own class. Mind you there is no shame in that, there is much to despise. So I hate any item of clothing which is ill advisedly worn by fat bastards who waddle around the place with no regard either to their own dignity or the delicate sensibilities of more sophisticated souls. I hate the current penchant for brazen displays of belly buttons and arse cracks too.
4)Apart from going to work, name 1 other thing that you hate having to do.
This is really difficult. Everything I hate, truly despise, centres around work. Just the mere act of looking at my bosses miserable face, for instance, fills me with fear and loathing. One or two of my colleagues, well, just one really, sends me into a murderous rage every time I hear her whiny voice. My department generally, I loathe, with a passion. Pillocks in suits, I could happily kill. Consultants? don't get me chuffin started. I could go on, endlessly. So there is not much room for hate elswhere. I nearly said I hate having to rush around like a blue arsed fly in the mornings getting the eldest to school and arriving late at work only to be looked at as if I am John Gregory. But that is work related. I don't start late either, I have negotiated my own idiosyncratic hours, the old cowbag still makes me feel like something the cat has dragged in though.
What I really hate I suppose is something I have had to do only once, and I have only just thought of it, even though it was something I did recently: take a CD back. I feel let down by myself, for not understanding what the artist was trying to communicate and giving up, and I hate the artist for putting me through hoops. I hate the child behind the counter for smirking . I hate that The Polyphonic Spree put out such a steaming pile of poo that after about a thousand music purchases I was, for the first time, driven to returning something. But that's a small thing.
5)What sport do you hate watching (or having to watch) the most?
Begging Bluetitchs pardon, but no one is forced to watch a sport. Grand Prix is about the most irritating. A sport for nobs for one thing. Then you watch a car go around in a circle, followed by about 20 others. Then they all do it again about 50 chuffin times. Pointless. And very noisy. At least you can slumber through dressage of a Sunday afternoon.

Bugger it, enough half price Sainsburys Frascati has been sunk, I will do the other bugger. Its all about Halloween, which is a bit of an alien concept to old gits like me. No pun intended.
1. What is your favorite scary movie?
As a genre, scary movies are not my cup of tea, so I should say anything with Rob Lowe in it. The last scary movie I saw was Roadkill. This had good reviews everywhere and was directed by John Dahl (thommasson?). Well Dahl made a good reputation for himself with The Last Seduction , Red Rock West, and Kill Me Again, which, while not astonishing, were high class pieces of work. This roadkill was supposed to represent a major return for Dahl and a classic of the genre. It was shit, there is nothing else to say. If that's the best the genre has to offer the genre is dead.
Thrillers can scare me, I saw one on the box recently that had my stomach knotted from beginning to end, I can't remember what it was though. I suppose the only film I have seen that still gives me the heebie Jeebies is the Birds. I still burst out crying every time I hear a Flock of Seagulls.
2. What is your favorite Halloween treat?
No Halloween would be a treat. Seriously. In my neck of the woods it is no more than an excuse for little and not so little hooligans to behave like hooligans. Me and my neighbours are wiping egg off our windows for weeks, and the little sods don't even knock on thee door first. It is legitimised vandalism. I am serious here, having gangs of teenagers wantonly chuck crap at your windows is frightenining for the nippers; my nippers shit themselves and it's hard enough getting them to sleep in their own beds as it is. Not to mention the elderly, the bothered and the bewildered who have no clue what is going on anyway. Fucking poxy new ritual if you ask me.
3. Do you dress up for Halloween? If so, describe your best Halloween costume.
Big Boots, all the better to kick the little bastards up the arse.
4. Do you enjoy going to haunted houses or other spooky events?
The only place I know with a ghostly, other worldly presence is Villa Park, and I aint going anywhere near there
5. Will you dress up for Halloween this year?
Yes. In boots and Burberry.

The best link of the week, on this blog anyway, has been Flavios Beth Gibbons thing. I forgot to mention he is a Blues fan. Not as young as Young Ron, who does the match reports, but young. The rapidly becoming famous Bluetitch is also a Blues Fan, in case I have omitted to mention that pertinent fact in the past. Anyway, courtesy of Flavio once again... Rugs. You just don't get such erudition from Villa fans.

Ode to a Balti Pie, by my brother, another Blues fan. Sometimes you are so filled with pride, words are superfluous.

This is why I love the web. Just aimlessly surfing around I came across this poem by Christine Hamm. It is quite brilliant, but definitely not for those who might be a little delicate. I had never heard of this poet, but of course was inspired to search out more. There was this, and this. There was loads more as well but google seems to be down, so if you like those 3, just do a google search and you will find more. Like these.
She has a blog, with a link to many poems.

Hitchens on Orwell

Hairy coppers. All that effort to make sure Peter Hain didn't get his grubby fingers on the levers of power. Laughable.

Aki is depressed

Build a face

At the time that Any Trouble were a bit popular they barely registered in my consciousness, there was too much else going on and pub rock, however classy was a bit passe. In retrospect though, they were pretty shit hot and their best songs stand up today. Also they had Clive Gregson. He is one our finest ever songwriters and guitarists, a regular with Richard Thompson, who would not pick monkeys for sidekicks. His partnership with Christine Collister was a thing of great beauty, a duo who would grace any era. So for him to be dissed by a nonentity such as Nicky Campbell must have been utterly galling for the guy. Clive phoned Campbells show today while Dennis thingy from Dr Hook was on. Dennis went a bit crazy over Clive and asked him to phone him on his mobile off air; he clearly knows a thing or two. Campbell doen't. before Clive had even said anything, Campbell said "thanks to Clive from Manchester" and cut him off! One of Britains greatest talents on air, ready to talk to a bit of a legend and he is reduced to CLIVE FROM CHUFFIN MANCHESTER. Ye chuffin Gods.
Have a listen to Girls Are Always Right by Any Trouble here.

I thought I posted a Sunday Times article on Kurt Cobain the other day, actually it was an extract from this book. The author goes on about Cobain being convinced that he had a suicide gene. I mention it because Bluetitch has been banging on about Jeff Buckley and the imminent release of songs previously thought not good enough. The Cobain book is a bit odious in my view. The author assumes omniscience in the last moments of Cobains life. I find it all a bit creepy and ghoulish, not to mention chuffin presumptious. The story is available on the Sunday Times site in the review section. You will need to register if you haven't already.

The Seattle Times has all sorts of stuff and links relating to the sniper dudes