30 December 2004

Earth Wobbles - Scientists say

Well, It was too good to last...sobriety I mean. Some of you might have been able to predict, after yesterday's smug pontification, that it wouldn't......and it hasn't.
Something came over me...or was that someone?...no thank gawd. I've not disgraced myself, just partaken in a little post Christmas cheer with some very cheerful people.
I am on the road as it were, Jack Kerouac meets John Betjamen with a bit of Terry Thomas thrown in for good luck.
Driving to Devon to spend New Year with Idler Tom and his expanding family, Lord Louis, a spy and several cats, chickens and mice. I hope my lack of good breeding doesn't betray me...must remember - Serviette is a no no. Napkin.. Napkin.
A stroll down the hill to the sea, through the drizzle and mist, a pint at the Woody Bay hotel and a long thoughtful stare out at the cruel sea. At the bottom of the hill of course, is Lynton and Lynmouth, which had a bit of a Tsunami in reverse. Apparently the government was experimenting with cloud seeding, to increase rainfall...like we need more. A very successful experiment. It poured for days, the rivers of Exmoor burst their banks and Lynmouth was washed away, along with about fifty people.
Any road oop, I've got to get going now. If I'm wiped out on the motorway, you're all invited to the funeral. Have a lovely rest of 2004. You'll be hearing from me very soon, either from God's own Devon, or the Spirit world.

29 December 2004

Dog spelt backwards is God

Listening to radio 3 - a violin piece - they usually are on radio 3. Anyway,
it's a respectable hour of the day. This not drinking is quite good for
helping you revisit the daytime. Of course the trick with sobriety is not to
let it make you a better person. The demon drink is great spin, but with a
bit of practice, 'demon' can be applied to most consumables. The demon
weetabix for example, or the demon toast and marmalade. Most of us are
fairly demonic...well, I am, and it doesn't necessarily take alcohol to
bring it to the surface. I am more than capable of being a total shit while
under the influence of nothing more toxic than Bombay mix.
Of course, with the perfect logic of an addict, I am beginning to
rationalize that because I have abstained for several days, I am cured, or
in fact, was never an addict...therefore, getting hammered on New Year's Eve
will be my reward...a handshake between liver, heart, mind and conscience.
An apology for paranoia and misdiagnosis and the happy realization that I am
no worse than anybody else on New years Day.
It's very difficult to spend time with people and not drink. What is the
point? Either we want to fuck, use or help them. Mostly, we would like to
see them with no clothes on. If the social rules were slightly different, we
wouldn't need that uninhibitor. Dogs and monkeys don't need to drink. They
cut out the build up of social niceties and just go straight for the
arse-sniff'n'greet. No need to talk about great new books, or put the new
Nick Cave record on. Dog's do not compliment one another on the dress
they're wearing or those lovely flowers. If the government really wanted to
cut alcoholism, they would promote canine behavior. I feel I might be
rambling here...what day is it?...

So before I get sectioned, I think I'll change the subject. Feeling slightly
guilty over my flippant references to Tsunamis...perhaps a little immature
over what has happened. Well no offence intended. Obviously it is bad....it
is bad...it is a bad bad thing..Oh yes, bad bad bad.
I realise that I went on rather a lot about the Ufton Nervet rail crash as
well. How can I explain this with out sounding like a psychopathic
misanthrope. I suppose the Orson Wells ferris wheel speech from the Third
Man about 'what if the dots stopped moving?' might be digging myself in
deeper. I can empathise, really I can...a bit. Just not enough for modern
standards. I'm not touchy feely enough. What if a lot of trustafarian Alex
Garland rainbow new age hippies did get swept out to sea? You see, I'm
missing the point. Mostly the poor coastal inhabitants whose lives were no
'garland' of roses to start with, got it as usual. And the rainbow techno
hippies have parents...etc. And they might have improved given the chance to
grow old. There - maturity and wisdom. And I am sorry it happened - really.
Pinkie Brown has lost a grand daughter, and I would not wish that to happen
to anybody.
Can we touch on the religious aspect of all this as well. Who believes in
God? You almost have to now. If the celestial press office didn't dream this
one up as the pr coup of the century, I'm a Dutch man. It's the timing you
see. 'Ignore me on my birthday will you fuckers? Winter sunshine when you
should be in church?' Christ, if I wasn't insane, I'd be a great politician.
Believe me, somebody will trot this argument out. Probably get sectioned
My wife has gone to Cuba. Just had a text message from her. Plane delayed at
Gatwick for five hours. It's been commandeered to take supplies to the
Maldives. Still don't believe in God?

28 December 2004

The Germ Organization Deny Responsibility

Well, I hate to say I told you so but... Christmas disasters.
I can't help thinking that this earthquake is something to do with me. 'The
biggest earthquake for forty years' - my fortieth birthday...they could be
linked. Anton La Vey, the head of the Satanist church, claimed
responsibility for the Mexico Earthquake. Apparently in a foul mood, and
playing some rather angry music on his Wurlitzer Organ, he caused the
earth's crust to crack. Just in case this is in some way linked to me, I
would like to offer my fulsome apologies to those involved and thank the
emergency services for their help... There, my conscience is clear.

By the way, keep placing those orders - hotels don't come cheap at this time
of year...unless they're in Fuckit, or whatever they call it.

25 December 2004

Merry War, Christmas is Over

So, not quite out of the woods yet, but the wardrobe is nearby. It's been adequate in case you ask. Could have been pleasant if insomnia hadn't kept me awake all night. Not even Half Awake. Raw, red eyed and prickly. No major upsets though. Still on speaking terms with the nearest and dearest. Managed to keep a civil tongue in my head, and I have to admit, a couple of the items I received will not have to go back. Most will of course, but the strike rate is well up on previous years.
Still waiting for a decent incident somewhere in the world to give the evening some perspective. Perhaps there'll be a revolution in the Ukraine. Another Ceaucescu or a gas explosion in the midlands. Seems like it might snow which will make driving more adventurous.
Glad to see that sales are pouring .. well tricking in, but at least Half Awake has lost her virginity. I might have to postpone the winter cruise, but I can live with that.
An evening of Dennis Potter could be pleasant, but I will be checking the forum from time to time, and listening out for the delightful chime of the cash register and minding the store. I should be on triple time for this.
Enjoy what's left of this most precious of days.

The Shop is Open

Merry Christmas everybody,
It is with great pleasure that I announce the birth of  'Half Awake' . After a long and painful labour, the midwife is now necking a pint of mead, smoking a festive crack pipe, and getting friendly with three wise men. 
Oh, I might mention that there is one rude word as far as I remember, so be 'Parentally' advised. It's the Cxxx word, which in some civilizations is still deemed a bit rude. The rest is an edifying concoction of spiritually and morally uplifting musical poems blah blah blah.
Day two of sobriety...the self righteousness is worth the price of a trip to the Priory alone.
Went to the Crib Nativity Service at Ufton Nervet Church this afternoon. Not a primary school head governor in sight, but not an entirely wasted journey. Candles, carols and the beaming faces of l'il children...in a completely non Michael Jackson way.
Any, I'll say goodnight now, and repair to my bed chamber.
Remember to place your orders early, to avoid disappointment. Gift tokens and record vouchers not accepted.
See you in the pews.

23 December 2004

Happy Birthday Fallout

Yes, by a freak of nature, I have reached the age of forty. Despite my best
efforts to expire at a tender age, I have been unsuccessful. Anyway, I am no
longer in a position to leave a beautiful corpse...despite what you might
think, so living fast and dying young will be quietly swept under the rug.

It is my intention to abstain from booze for the next twenty years, to be
lucid, productive and to finally make something of myself. It's come to my
attention that most successful people drink very little. Although I love
Jeffrey Bernard and the other great drinkers, one could hardly accuse him of
being successful. A beautiful downward spiral, that eventually became an
ugly tragedy. He was literally legless at the time of his death. Oscar
Wilde, didn't last much past forty - so I'm going to give it a go. I can
claim - with some justification, to have enjoyed a drink, and given it my
all- let alone liver. I have Absinthed enough. Of course, the pursuit of
success might seem a little mercenary...a bit un-rock'n'roll...of course, it
depends on your definition of success. It might not be what you think.

I went out with a bang thank God. A binge at the Czech club in West
Hampstead with a skeleton crew of last minute sympathizers. Beer, Bechorovka
and a lovely bottle of Port. Not to mention the afternoon hip flask of
Scotch on a train journey to an out of town toyshop that miraculously still
had Thomas the Tank Engine diecast models in stock...dry your eyes...my
canonization is not yet assured.
The evening degenerated back at the flat, and I have no memory of how it
I awoke this morning, still drunk. The hangover didn't even arrive until
I have been reminded of certain incidents which probably did occur,
involving nudity - certain sordid requests, topped off by my thinking I was
having a heart attack, demanding an ambulance be called, then swearing at my
friends for not doing so.
Still, what's the point of being alive if you never have apologies to make.

Being Forty is OK so far. Sober or drunk, I'll still have apologies to make.

Oh, one other thing - the records have arrived, they look and sound
wonderful...in my opinion at least. You will have the opportunity to
purchase one in a little over twenty four hours.
Place your orders. To avoid disappointment start queuing now.

Good night.

19 December 2004


A crisp December afternoon. In an ideal world, we would be out for a brisk
walk on Hampstead Heath - no funny business in the bushes...a festive
evensong at our local C of E, followed by a quick sherry and mince pie in
the vicarage. Maybe another time.
We're stuck in our bunker, the fucking boiler is on the blink and we've all
got colds...and in my case, the remnants of a hangover. I was celebrating
the completion of my Christmas shopping and contemplating the happy faces
that will beam gratitude at me next Saturday morning. I've really purchased
a lot of crap this year. Puzzled faces is more likely.
This time next week, much will have changed. Our Lord's birthday will have
come and gone, a washed out memory, discarded for another year; left outside
in a wheelie bin.
I will be storming the charts with my just released record - you can help me
with this if you like. It works like this. You buy it. Simple. Your purchase
will not only bring you years of pleasure, it will help pay for a new boiler
- Rock'n'Roll Forever eh?
Oh, another thing - this is perhaps something that should be avoided...a
showbiz no no, but just between you and me, I will be forty on the 23rd
December. I might be doing my self a service here, as many of you probably
think I'm older. Anyway, I don't care, I'm not about to have a breakdown,
The last forty years have been one long breakdown...don't worry, I'm not on
the lookout for presents - however, if you did want to send me money, I do
have a paypal option...just a thought.
In future, I may change my mind and shave a few decades off by passport.
Never let the truth get in the way.
I am being badgered by worried friends and relatives, concerning any plans I
might have for some kind of celebration to mark this momentous occasion. I
haven't. Not yet. It's too late in the year, so most people have buggered
off out of London, leaving only cockney sparras and the seriously unhinged
to raise a glass. I think I'll wait until January before holding some kind
of grim soiree. If I decide that being in my fifth decade is not as
enjoyable as all that, I might have to remove this page from the blog and
deny I'm a day over thirty four.
I hope you're all getting ready to make that big 'Half Awake' purchase.
It's being pressed and printed as we speak at a sweatshop somewhere in the
nation. Elves have been seconded from Santa's workshop to cope with my last
minute order. The children of the world must wait. Elderly ladies doing
piecework will be lined up at trestle tables in council run twilight homes,
stapling the booklet together, and placing it lovingly into it's tray, as
gang masters swear and whip them to go faster..."Mr Moore is not to be kept
waiting". The 30p and hour they receive will keep them in Licorice Allsorts
until the new year at least.
So there we have it, Christmas cheer, broken boilers, my thirtieth birthday,
and Half Awake to give you food for thought.
Watch this site.

15 December 2004

Adventures in Lethargy

Morning Rat Fans. The day is shaping up nicely, except for fever which has threatened for days, and is now finding ways of attacking. It's coming for me and I don't think the defences will hold up much longer. Imagine that film 'The Blob'. Fever is coming up under the door.

Anyway, enough moaning. My guitar has arrived from Nashville. She's a humdinger - to use the southern vernacular. My eternal gratitude to Seth, who despite not knowing me, enduring my barrage of emails, canine calamity and the gurglings of a small child, managed to get it here in one piece.

A gentleman of the first order.The Germ Organization will reward you.

I've had a few boring problems with this record and it's 25th December release date.
Obviously, somebody of my stature demands the impossible and shrieks when they can't have it. Red Cd trays are essential if the Germ Organization is to conquer the global market. Apparently these are hard to get, being reserved for Children's records. Well fuck those nasty small monsters. I'm having them and that's that. Sparky's magic piano can come in plain grey packaging for all I care.

Any way, It seems I am to be lucky. Miracles always happen at Christmas. The nativity was getting a bit tired, so I'd like to propose the story of 'Half Awake's manufacture as the new story of Christmas magic.

Visited Ufton Nervet level crossing again at the weekend. It was a wonderfuly desolate, foggy December afternoon. A few flowers had been placed, but a notice from W Berks Parish Council informed us that the floral tributes had been removed to a safe place. We have now reclaimed this place as a family favourite.

I should mention while I'm here, that a new track is available for you to download. It's called 'King Kong Und Die Liebe Frau'. It's by a very old friend of mine called The Shoreditch Ogre. He's just come out of Broadmoor and is hoping to resume his musical and violence career. You can help him.

Got something called a staff evaluation in an hour. Sounds very Californian to me. I shall tell Rough Trade that I am satisfied with their annual performance and will continue to assist them for the time being.

Good Afternoon

10 December 2004

Something for the Weekend.

Quite soon, I will be free for the weekend, at liberty and on the loose. Kicking out the jams and cutting a swathe through the home counties. I might even go to a Christmas fayre or two, even a carboot sale.

Spent the morning trying to extricate myself from an eBay deal that went horribly wrong. I bought the thing - which I shall not reveal, from a german website and accidentally ordered it twice. So now I'm in the embarrassing position of having to plead with the seller to let me off the second sale...in German. Not good. To compound matters, the item I purchased, was a present to myself, from my wife...unbeknownst to her of course. I hate getting things I don't want, so have taken to buying my own presents and invoicing the intended buyer. This will ensure that my mother does not give me the book of The Rolling Stones - £25..maybe twenty five years ago I'd have been delighted...spirit level cufflinks - My sister...they didn't even make it back to London - probably still on the side of the M4 where I threw them. A book on ethnic instrument manufacture, which I happen to know was free on joining a book club...nothing, all crap. Life is too short and I'm too rude to accept this nonsense anymore. I've purchased this wretched guitar, if it ever arrives and the thing off eBay which I won't enlighten you on and a divine digital camera...it's my birthday as well just in case you thought I was doing rather too well. Anyway, I'm off now. Watch out tearooms, here I come.

08 December 2004

The Tiny Town Chronicles

It's a cloudy old day in Tiny Town. I've just returned from watching a Ballet performance, featuring my own little Sylvie Guillem, Ave the Rave. Like many three year old ladies, she is keen to learn the social graces necessary for her to be able to capture an Earl at some stage. It really was great. Little girls in pink tutus, leotards, tights and ballet shoes, ( the less innoccent among you can fuck off now), jumping up and down to music at the church hall. Being Ponies, Princesses, etc. Some while picking their noses and....eating it. It was a a truy wonderful spectacle.

Having trouble getting this guitar from Nashville. The box reserved for fed exing it, has sadly found another use - a dog's coffin. It's a cruel world, and as the festive season approaches, about to become a lot crueller. Remember, drinking and driving is not recommended.

I have a social engagement this evening with the legendary Luke Haines. Damage may occur.

06 December 2004


Good evening, readership. Well what a weekend it's been.Varied, many
splendoured, schizophrenic. My lexicographic accuracy may well have been
diminished by ingestion of alcohol, by way of red wine - so apologies for
non sensical syntax and wayward spelling. Actually, spelling is something
that is occupying my thoughts at the moment. Yesterday, I visited my friend,
Gavin P-P, the visual, aesthetic, god of Idling, now rather busy becoming a
success of Cloud literature and televisual broadcasting. I have persuaded
Gav to lay out my record sleeve, add the text, fonts, finishing touches
which turn an amateurish collection of images and ideas, into a cohesive
professional and visually appealing package. Gav, a friend of many years,
has always been slightly busier that the rest of us, but recently, all his
ships seem to have come in at once... the lad is poised for great success.
All the harder to pin him down to help me out. Still, in some quarters,
loyalty, guilt, decency and emotional blackmail still hold sway. I persuaded
him that it would be a simple laying out job, with no come backs. We spent
many hours yesterday, putting the finishing touches to the sleeve of my
wretched album. I'd checked the copy many times, showed it to people who
claimed some degree of education, and satisfied myself that there were no
errors. Amazing, how it's only when the whole thing has been done, that
spelling errors, punctuation errors, and general slackness come to light. So
like a recalcitrant ousted lover, I've begged him to take me back. Quark me
baby, Quark me baby, only you can do it right. I'm heavily into correction.
Spent a lovely day with Thomas the tank Engine and friends. Met Father
Christmas. Must retire now.
Te ra.

03 December 2004

Morning Has Broken

A bit of bipolar action going on here.I prefer the old manic depressive tag - bipolar should be reserved for arctic explorers and sexually ambiguous bears; but wha can you do. Everything get's softened for public consumption these days..even consumption, which according to reports on the wireless this morning is back with a vengeance. I woke up at five am today and got up to see the dawn breaking over Kilburn. I managed to get another broken sleep until seven, but still, that's incredibly early for me. What's strange is that I feel okay. Seem to be making typos with every other word, so some ill effects must be manifesting themselves. It's a good jog (see) that I don't operate heavy machinery or drive a train.
Gorgeous peasouper. Proper Dickensian fog, clouds of car exhaust smoke and dipped headlights. Like a Ready brek advert.
I've almost finished the artwork for Half Awake. Tomorrow I'll meet my pal Gav - the designer, who will lay it out. Then it's all systems go. I should think.
In the next episode of this epic serial, I'll tell you all about buying a guitar on ebay from a man in Nashville, Tennessee. Very exiting. Tune in and find out if it arrives. How can you resist? Also, primary schools, league tables, and how to get your daughter into the best school in the area without performing degrading acts with the headmistress - although as any parent with a soon to be school age child knows - this would be a small price to pay. Read all about my temporary conversion from satanic pleasuredom to C of E. Hear about my christian beliefs. - should any school governors be reading this, I am of course joking about the temporary bit. And the satanic. My great great great great grandfather was the bishop of Winchester you know, so surely my name's on the list. Don't you know who I am? It's all in the next issue of the super sizzling John Moore Web Log - available on all good search engines. Add me to yer favourites baby!

01 December 2004

Delivered From Suffering

I am delighted to announce that our brother Neil has been delivered from his suffering. The angels came and took him to the spirit world where he is happy, safe and free from pain. Oh well, no they haven't actually. Nine text messages in one go from a deeply confused, doped up to the eyeballs operatee, all saying the same thing. So we may all rejoice. I thank those of you who joined me in prayers.

It's the 1st day of advent, so we can open the first window on our calendars and consume the lump of chocolate that symbolises the virgin Mary getting up the duff in mysterious circumstances, getting morning sickness, chocolate cravings and a tax demand...and worrying about how to break the news to her old man.
Why do all advent calendars contain chocolate? What happened to austerity? It's increasingly difficult to be a stern Victorian pater these days. There's a gap in the market for mean toys, thrill less treats and windpipe sized marbles.
Come on, cheer up, the sales start in 26 days.

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