COMMENT FUCKING MODERATION!

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? That little bastard Glark must have chewed through some wires in his demented frenzy and to think of all the virtual steaks I fed him. Fucking ingrate! I will get this sorted. I promise. While we’re waiting, whatya think of the stark modernity? I like it, me. It’s a whiteout on the top of Ben Macdui in the spring when even your sat nav compass is useless. I love whiteouts up there. You have to stand still and wait them out. It can be ten or thirty minutes. They are incredibly disorienting and you feel totally free. I was hit in the forehead by a snow bunting during one. It must have been doing 30 mph when BLAM straight into the Tefal brow of Yours Truly. It was a spiritual experience for both of us. I survived right enough, the poor bunting didn’t so it was probably more life changing for her. I buried her in the snow 4500 feet up in the Scottish highlands. Great days.

Glark's Gone!

He heard his master's voice and chewed through his chain.
I tried to stop him but the little fucker bit me and ate the whole sidebar.

I am confused and upset, so while we're waiting for site repairs please stay tuned for
Charlie and the Chocolate Starfish.

A small post about anal bleaching in post feminist Britain.

You will be delighted to know that this is the last from the jukebox for a while
Hurrah!
Back to Debbie.
Well, she's a looker ain't she? I like the squinty shapes her mouth makes as she sings. Like a Gibbs SR toothpaste advert.
And such a snappy little dresser!

May I be indulged? Not long now, just a little longer.
We're coiling up the ropes and polishin' the gimbals, raking throught the signals chest for the blue peter.
Wind's changin' see. Turnin' warm, turnin' offshore, tide's stopped too.
It'll turn soon now as well.

Think we'll have some more Janis.
It has been a very Joplinesque week. And I have been singing White rabbit for days, esp the intro (one of the best ever) and I need to clear my palate.


Play LOUD!

I am, you may be surprised to hear, a brave man. I take no credit; it’s a trick!
I learned how to do it on an Outward Bound course. Any fear, you just switch it off. I have to qualify that by saying I am also shot through with a craven cowardice like veins of gold in quartz. That’s right! It’s the cowardice that keeps us all alive.
Anyway, I have made the drinks run to Tesco these last five nights and bought the exact same items every time. Three litres of perry, two litres of squeezed orange juice, a bottle of Basics vodka and some fairy liquid just for the look of the thing. I have made sure my shirt is tucked in and my shoes are polished. (cowardice, see?). This is all to do with Kim Ayres and me saying to him that I wanted to work the checkouts. I’m sure of it.
Anyway, the other night there was a young student type on the till and bugger me if he didn’t engage me in conversation the little weasel. lets call him "Overly familiar checkout guy"
(OFCG)

So, while he was packing:

OFCG: alright?
Me: yeah...
OFCG: been a hard day, eh?
Me: yeah, something like that..
OFCG: hard week more like!

I thought; this is just what I need. They are either squashing all your stuff down the end of the conveyor belt or doing behavioural science 101 on you. So, I LOOKED at him. I looked into his very soul and he shut the fuck up.

So next night I bought the exact same stuff and I’m walking down looking for an empty till and I see him again. My first thought was “fuck” then, “Christ, I am a customer! I’ll go to any till I please.”
So he says hi and starts to put the stuff through. He stopped at the Basics vodka. Something had clicked. He looked up at me and it was all I could do not to wink at him.
That’s right my friend, the psycho’s back for his fix.
He never bothered to ask for a loyalty card.

Am I a domestic god? I have spent the best of the day cleaning the Perth foot on the ground. It was far from improving. Fear and loathing in the heart of darkness more like. I am concerned that a future burglar might disapprove of my obvious corner cutting and leave me a note calling me a slovenly bastard.
When do you know when it’s time to change the bed? When your very best Egyptian cotton sheets look like the Turin fucking Shroud, that’s when.

That’s not the whole reason right enough. No. I was on the drinks run to Tesco and overheard four boys talking at the door. One of them made a remark to his friend about a girl he knew and I was suddenly so angry. So very angry indeed I will never repeat it so don’t ask. I looked at the four of them and I knew I’d get a beating and I still wanted to jump up and down on his vile head. I’d be in fucking Broadmoor unable to explain myself.
Ho hum, a nice Jaffa cake and milky tea will cheer me up.
Nothing beats the smell of lavender pledge. Know what it smells like? Smells like victory. One day my war will be over.

Derange! That's what they said. However, here it is because I love her so very much. The beautiful white song, sung by beautififul white kids, for beatiful white kids, in a beautiful white summer. white rabbit.

Nine years later, we, the punks of this world, spat in their eye.
Hooray!

nb play it loud!

I had a terrible terrible crush on Grace Slick, I finally shook it off three weeks ago last Wednesday. She's a bloody good singer.

But, we must not leave the Jukebox just yet.
Ah yes London in the eighties.
Wasn’t it more sunny then?

I was twenty before I took any notice of Janis Joplin. There was a film documenting her life on tour for a year. I watched it in a smelly little cinema in Cambridge high on hash. Fifteen minutes in, I was a convert. Watching her matured me and I was devastated to discover she was already dead.
This trip down the Maroon tow path must be a pain in the friggin’ haggis for you all.
I know SheBah will be reaching for her Gucci sick bag and we may not be here tomorrow (according to Ayres), so get it while you can.

Update: the bastard thing won’t embed so if you want to see it (and by Christ, you better) you must follow this link.
late update! It does embed.


These songs will finish soon I promise, there is nothing worse than a drunken host hogging the Dansette at the party.

Everyone got a drink?

LET’S SNOG!

Love this song, and after all my mathematical profundity, what a welcome change!

You will all be familiar with looking at a misshapen vase only to suddenly see the silhouettes of your handsome father and beautiful mother. Imagine then a remarkable young schoolboy surfing through mathematics like a bowl of frosties and now under the tutelage of a famous Cambridge don returned to his old school talent spotting. The young lad is struggling with something, it’s instinctive, and the old don tells him to relax, not to think, not to try and grasp the concept, just keep going, and see what you will see. Well, none of you know the language of mathematics, no offence, it’s not your fault, but that afternoon, something went clunk and the boy stared at the old don who wasn’t that old at all now that he noticed and the don smiled back, because he knew that the boy had just seen a landscape that he never knew existed. More, he knew how privileged the boy felt to have been led to such a precious gift.

Well the boy grew up and pissed some of his life away having a high old time of it, but that profound feeling of understanding and privilege returned to him today 10 minutes before he met his brand new chairman. So he smiled and his eyes watered a bit and he girded his loins and met his new chairman. He looked the fucker in the eye and led his team. He ran over his allotted time by an hour and at the end the new chairman thought the sun shone out his ass and shook his hand and told him to come and see him in Toulouse and Dick was furious because he said fuck all to him and he was back in his car on the M90 by 8pm and here I am, sitting here, wondering not for the first time, if there might be a God after all. If there is, She is smiling on me. I have been so lucky recently.

And so, back to work keeping Britain's balance of payments in the red. The prospect fills me with such dread. I'd rather put my hand in a bag of ferrets. Aren't Monday nights awful? I once confessed to Ayres that I'd like to be a checkout girl at Sainsburys and just sit there all day pushing stuff past that laser thing. I said it would be great. After a while I would start making comments to the customers about all the rubbish they were buying. He was right, he said I'd hate it and I should buck my ideas up.
A Maroon was never beat! I shall set my lantern eyes and gimlet jaw to the wind and all shall break against me like hurricane Gustav (shit name for a storm) but I shall remain. Gigantic and magnificent.
Something like that. I'm off to work, wish me luck.

I'm just a little blue today.

Here she is.