28 February 2005

The call of the Saloon Bar on a winter's night.

Quite a productive day all in all. With super human effort, I managed to haul the many records sold yesterday, up to the post office for dispatch to their new owners. Perhaps you think I'm exaggerating in a bid to drum up more sales - how very cynically minded of you. I can assure you, that the traffic was bought to a standstill as I aimed the precariously laden wheelbarrow towards the post office.
Next on the agenda, was a haircut in time for my afternoon appearance on the wireless. A three at the sides and a five on top. A little stark perhaps, but representing very good value for money, and a joyous rebellion against my former hair towers.
Thanks are due to my dear mother, who not quite exhausted from our visit to her at the weekend, kindly consented to come to London to tend our child for the afternoon, allowing me to head off into town for my date with Resonance 104.4 FM
Made a decent fist of it I think. Played two songs live - accompanied by the legendary Gareth Sager, and read 'The Funeral of John Moore After Corunna' - don't really know why. Also accompanied the great thesp Tam Dean Burn on the saw as he read a selection of short stories. All in all, quite an entertainment.
As we left the studio, the snow was falling, the churchbells were ringing, and the saloon bar of the nearest pub was calling.
And so it is, that another day draws to a close. The big chill is with us, and the snow continues to tease. I am not giving up on this winter, until we've had at least one opportunity to use the toboggan.

27 February 2005

Nuclear Winter Wonderland

So the sun begins to set on what has been a lovely and successful day here at the Germ Organization. The Sunday Times have been particularly kind with their appraisal of my work, and the site has had it's busiest day since opening. Unlike the unruly mobs who rioted at the recent new Ikea opening, our customers - clients if you like, have behaved impeccably, some queing for up to seven hours, and our regulars have shown themselves equal to the task of presenting a first rate impression. I thank you all. Our coffers are swollen. It's a good job that the money's in the safe which is time locked until tomorrow, because with my spirits elevated as they are, I run the risk of blowing it all on a Sunday night binge at the Kilburn Bingo parlour. A lot of highrollers have lost their shirts in that place.
Anyway, we're not closed yet. Much as I disapprove of Sunday trading, the Germ Organization is pragmatic and mercenary enough to refrain from making a moral stand at this time. No, we're open around the clock, pay minimum wage and our pension scheme consists of a holiday villa which I alone enjoy the use of.
Sorry, dreaming slightly. Spent a pleasant day driving through the villages and hamlets of West Berkshire, in search of I don't know what precisely...a tumble down rectory for sale by an elderly lady with no concern for market value...on top of a hill, with a ghost, near a lake, with easy access to the M4, a country pub with a lock in, and a young lady's Finishing School nearby. Failed miserably again. Also failed to find Teletubby land, much to the consternation of Ava. We drove over the hills and far away of course, so she assumed we'd spot them grazing in a field somewhere.
I must say, Aldermaston is a great place. Very sinister, in an Avengers kind of way. The Atomic Weapons Research Establishment - once the destination of thousands marching from London, has a real demonic power to it. As you drive through idyllic countryside, you suddenly come upon it. It's vast. It's dirty windowless concrete towers really do look like they're cooking up death. Barbed wire perimeter fencing and scalding pipework make you wonder what the hell's going on below ground. If this is the nice bit, what's the rest like. The village is old and pretty, probably inhabited by scientists, who suddenly develop personality disorders, alarming colleagues, and the ministry of defence, and are discovered to have been possessed by occult forces in order to steal the bomb.
Also went swimming. The pool was quite busy today unfortunately - mostly, one family, who were using most of the pool as their personal water volleyball court. Didn't look up close, but I think the swimming costumes might have been burberry.
I'm going to appear on the wireless tomorrow from 4.30 until 6. Resonance FM. Don't know the frequency, but I'm told there is one. I shall also be busy, packing records for immediate dispatch to the post office. I might have to employ extra staff.
It's teatime now, so have a pleasant evening.

23 February 2005

Distinguished Visitors Expected. Please Behave

Right. This sunday, we at the Germ Organization are expecting some important visitors to the site, so I would ask that we give the chatroom a bit of a tidy up, and do not use any profanities. Yes, I am pleased to announce that readers of The Sunday Times will be popping in for an inspection. Half Awake is reviewed in the Culture magazine, which will also mention the two tracks available to download at our humble website. Curious culture hungry tourists will visit, to sample our wares, so like the recent Olympic committee visit to London, I urge us all to be on our best behaviour.
Should they misnavigate, and end in the chatroom, I want them to see a highly invigorating, enlightening and tidy enviroment...not some dark alley strewn with detritus, syringes and condoms, daubed in grafitti. If these people speak to us, we must answer clearly, courteously, and not attempt to rob them or solicit sexual acts. They may be elderly, religious, or of a nervous disposition. Make them feel welcome. We'll fleece them later, but we've got to bait the hook.
I will be renting space on the site to various commercial interests, whose products target Sunday Times readers. A Starbucks will be opening, as will a branch of Waitrose, Financial products companies and an art gallery/bistro.
Special lavatories will be provided, and the St John's Ambulance brigade is on standby.
So lets make Half Awake Sunday a day to remember.
Many thanks to you all. You will be watched.

21 February 2005

To Those Who Danced - Thankyou.

A huge thankyou to those of you who danced. Our efforts have been rewarded, and may well be added to if the overnight forecast is accurate.
Managed to get into Regent's Park for this afternoon's blizzard - had to chase after it a bit because the cloud wasn't that big and was moving quite fast - the sun came out behind me. By the time I got to Baker Street, it was over, but what a glorious twenty minutes.
Hopefully, the country will be brought to it's knees by tomorrow.
It could well be D-day for the rabbits tomorrow, although as a humanitarian act, we might offer them refuge until the thaw - especially now there's a food shortage. Nobody ever got the big C off a Rabbit. Plenty of other diseases, Mixamatosis and Bugsbunnyitis, but when every last product is removed from the shelves, and mere mortals are forced to eat each other, Lollipop and Lenny will see us through until the crisis is over.
Watched University Challenge tonight and did reasonably well. I tried not to answer anything until I'd pressed an imaginary buzzer on my leg. Quite what the Missus though I was up to is anybody's guess.
So, Hunter S has finally put his guns to constructive use...It'll be Spector next. Love em both of course, and may well do the same when the time comes. Lovely film of Hunter S drinking a bottle of Absinthe with Johnny Depp in Aspen- getting absolutely gonzo. The bottle was supplied by yours truly...It's a long story. The Germ Organization won't even bother denying responsibility this time.
Easter eggs are in the shops.

19 February 2005


Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls around the world, it is with great pleasure that I can announce - It's snowing. Roll out Prokofiev's Troika, strap on the sleighbells and get ready to ride.
Lets not get over exited just yet - it's not quite a winter wonderland, but I feel it in me bones - we're in for a whiteout. The clouds look like they're about to drop the mother load - it's cold and dry....so what I'd like you all to do, wherever you are, is a little snow dance -It doesn't have to be anything too extravagant, just a shimmy and a shake - just enough to show that we mean business. Those of you living in tropical climates are asked to participate as well, if you'd be so kind. We'd do the same for you, if you wanted a monsoon or something. Lets make the greatest white powder known to man pour forth - blizzards, power cuts, a new Ice age to last until the first week of May, where it can be swapped for a Bluebell wood and a fertility dance.
I've been a bit miserable of late - and a bit naughty, so apologies for the irregularity of my postings. Still, I think I might have turned a corner of debauchery - at least for a while, so now I can return to productivity. I almost have a valid excuse anyway...apart from boredom, there was filming for University Challenge - not the actual quiz yet, but a profile film of our team. Why is it, directors and photographers always assume that our natural habitat is in a bar getting innebriated? What about a library...it's alway bar...drink this drink that. Of course we do, then end up drunk and wanting to get drunker. Mobile phone calls ensue to people who only have initials and will meet us in five minutes outside. The second greatest white powder known to man.
I have paranoid fantasies of being arrested - nipping off to the pub toilets for a line, coming back into the bar, only to discover it's a police station. As I'm dragged to the cells by the gentleman with the burberry baseball cap, who has now removed his disguise, and is quite clearly Sir Ian Blair, flanked by Michael Howard and a tv news crew, I desperately protest that I am not middle class, but have very humble origins. Ah, the fear.
Then of course it was the NME party - to be sober at an event like this is just not on.
Annyway, it's sunday tomorrow - church, cleansing of mind body and soul...If I manage to wake up in time, which I never have done before. I can trhow myself at the priest's feet and confess my sins in front of the congregation. How do you think that will sit with the school selectors?
Look, it's stopped snowing - who's not dancing ?...come on, get with it.

18 February 2005

A short message from your correspondent

Not feeling too clever today I'm afraid. Over indulged last night - even though I was careful not to. In my favour, I was far from the worst offender, I made it home in one piece, and even managed some paternal duties - such as putting the Mary Mungo and Midge dvd on rotation, and pretending to be awake.
Went to the Loog records party last night - the post NME awards bash for the smart money...excellent it was too. Delighted to report that no apologies or expanations are required, or at least if they are - I've completely forgotten. Managed to hold conversations that lasted more that five seconds. Strange not to be the one rolling on the floor vomitting anymore - halcyon days. Of course, I might be blogging myself an alibi here...do you think it would hold up in a court of law? Had Harold Shipman written a blog where he expounded the wonders of medicine, and the joys of healing the slightly unwell, he'd still be mass murdering to his heart's content..
So it is that our weeks adventure with the rabbits is shortly to draw to a close. I must admit that they haven't been the most stimulating companions - once the sex floor show was over, they didn't really have much to offer in terms of entertainment. Gave up trying to rescue Lenny from his sodomite cell mate. Came to the conclusion that he didn't actually mind that much after all.

14 February 2005

Lollipop Rape Latest

I no longer care about Lollipop raping Lenny. He'sd started on us now.

13 February 2005

The Germ Organization Announce the General Election

As Big Ben prepares to toll it's midnight bell, another weekend melts like snow into the hard ground of next week's prosaic sod. Sorry about that. I know that is not the greatest sentence ever committed to posterity. Anyway, another weekend over. I've hit the Jamesons, so forgive me if I come over all lyrical and maudlin.
Yet again, we've failed to go to church. I say this not as a religious man, but as a hypocrite who'd like to get his offspring into a decent school. What the hell are we to do? There are a few other boxes to tick on the application form, but God bothering is right at the top. Third box down is 'other reasons your child should be condsidered for a C of E school'. I'm trying to think of some cast iron, solid gold certs to put. How about 'because the head of your governors was spotted entering the star of the east massage parlour at three in the afternoon and leaving at three in the morning? or, I am a property developer who will buy and bulldoze you if you don't...or our daughter is the devil, and only you can save the world from her.
Looks like she'll be going to 'Crack Whore High' afterall. At least we tried.
I'm feeling confused and slightly guilty. Who am I going to vote for in the next election. I can't see myself voting for a war criminal, a conservative - other than Boris or Jazzman Ken, and although my family have always voted liberal, Charles Kennedy is a ginger abortion...perhaps that'as a bit unfair, but I am drunk. I often imagine standing myself - 'Moore - Aesthetic Jihad..takes Wokingham from the tories'. It's a 100% swing to Aesthetic Jihad. The executions start here.
I like politics and I love elections. My dear departed Dadster was the agent for the libs in Wokingham during the elections of the sevs. Although they never stood a cat in hells's chance, these were my Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn days. Flypostering, opposition poster ripping and chucking eggs and setting traps. I was genuinely scared of consevatives - You could tell they were evil...wobbling double chins. Wokingham is of course the safest Tory seat in the country. John Klingon Redwood is the mp. When I was growing up, it was a Dutchman/Auschwitz guard called Willem Van Straubenzee. Nobody questioned his asylum/euro credentials. Innoccent days. Simple days. Labour were too common, tories too posh...Politicians need charisma. Where the fuck is David Ownen when we need him? I remember being caught egging the tory campaign office on Rose Street, and being dragged in there...like being captured by the nazis. My father had to pretend he hadn't put me up to it when he collected me. I was well rewarded.

11 February 2005

Rape Rabbit Rape Rabbit Rape Rape Rape

As I mentioned earlier, I have to look after the nursery school rabbits - Lollipop and Lenny. Anybody got any tips? Lenny is rather placid, and keeps being raped by Lollipop. I don't like to interfere in the course of nature, but I think some behavioural psychology might be in order. I don't think that Lenny enjoys being repeatedly sodomised ....oh god, where are the Morrissey chatroom boys when you need them for a bit of advice? I'm tempted to go over to their place, and throw myself on their mercy - I know Belton would be a mine of information on Lapisexualis. Look, Beltie, if you're peeking in, I need you. No hard feelings - I've got a real problem here. Ava keeps asking what they're doing - I tell her it's prison behaviour...when you've spent that much time in captivity, gender becomes less important.
I'm not meaning to come over all Buju Banton here - a delicious image nonetheless, but I don't think it aint natural -god he din create de man rabbit to lie wid de buck. Na man, a buck rabbit is spose to lie wid a woman rabbit innit. 'Boom Bye Bye in a batty rabbit head' so they say in the dancehalls of Jamaica, and Kilburn. I gonna put a bible in de hutch...an some Henry Miller books...De Rabbit of Capricon.
Poor little Lenny can't defend himself. He just trembles as Lollipop mounts his hind quarters and gyrates. I know this scene repeats itself nightly throughout the land, both in prison and in the prisons of our own imagination, but, these are nursery school rabbits for god sake. Bunnies...not category A nonse wing superheros.
If there is a rabbit psychologist amounst you, I beseech you to come forward. How would you like to be Lollipop's prison bitch?

Run Rabbit Run

Well thank god that's over. Slightly incapacitated yesterday, by the residue
of celebratory beverages from Wednesday night's little musical soiree. Thanks
to all those who participated, rescued, applauded, cajoled, suspended
critical faculties and refrained from physical violence. This was the first
time I've played in well over a year, and the first time I've played unaided
by people with competence, talent and physical attributes for at least six.
You forget the minor essentials, like actually knowing the entire song from
start to finish...words, chords etc. With BBR, we knew 100% of every song,
but very rarely at the same time. Mostly our combined knowledge would cover
the holes, and if things ever did go 'tits up' ( my phrase of the day ) there
was always somebody to glare at as if it was their mistake.

It was sometime towards the end of Tuesday evening that I decided to actually
test myself on what I knew...with terrifying consequences. I'd assumed that
if I slept with the lyrics close to my head, they would replant themselves
into my brain, and I would be all loaded and ready to fire laser guided
missiles. Well it's a good job I did this, or like the US airforce being
commanded by bomber Harris on a particularly drunken night, those laser
guided missiles would have gone all over the shop, striking hospitals,
schools and pet shops.

Back to old fashioned methods then, I actually practised - not until perfect,
but until a lynching was no longer inevitable.

So it was, the gig passed without too much trouble. My guitar didn't turn to
lettuce and my trousers stayed up...the mark of success. Jovial banter, some
wayward singing...just within the bounds of tolerable I think. Anyway, this
will be the first of a whole new batch.

Yesterday, rock'n'roll's shallow glamour gave way to an all together more
life threatening situation....and exceptionally cruel to a man with a raging

The more progenous of you, might know that next week is half term. We have
been entrusted with entertaining Lollipop and Lenny, Ava's nursery school

They arrived yesterday afternoon, in a blaze of sawdust, carrot peelings and
straw. They have taken up residence in our living room. I couldn't face
putting them in the garden. We have a slight fox prblem, that could escalate
into full scale urban carnage should we put these two tasty morsels where
they can be got at. Forget impending university challenge humiliation or poor
record reviews. Imagine being known as the man who killed the nursery school
rabbits. I have several petshops on hold should a tragedy occur.Lolipop and
Lenny have been photographed, measured and weighed. Replacements are all
lined up. Any one for stew?

03 February 2005

Wacko Jacko, Dotty Doherty and Bert Weedon's Fingers

Morning rat fans - or to the clockwatchers amonst you, good afternoon. It's only just reached the midday point ,so I feel justified in my a.m assertions.
Just heard that young Peter Doherty has had his collar felt yet again. This is not good news, as I believe there is a suspended sentence hanging over him...who would break a butterfly on the wheel? Practically everyone these days. What about a deathshead moth responsible for corrupting the sweet handmaidens of albion...the time for stripey suits and vaseline may once again be close at hand. We have our very own Michael Jackson. There's a joke in here somewhere, and if I find it, I'll let you know. What was that funny policeman saying about a crackdown on middle class drug use? Well now you've got your man Mr Blair, you can cancel operation 'raid my dinner party'.

Any way, I'm supposed to be talking about my empty eventless existence, not someone elses thrill a minute. Some of you will be pleased to know that I've taken my guitar out of it's case. I am refamiliarizing myself with it. Hopefully, some form of psychic osmosis will occur. I've got a little shrine. All the lyrics are typed out, plectrum and capo laid next to them. By the end of today, I'll be posessed with the fingers of Bert Weedon and the memory of a particularly vindictive camel. I did try actually playing some songs at the weekend, but was immediately set upon by my daughter telling me to stop at once.
Anyway, those of you who attend next Wednesday's bash won't be expecting music will you? In the spirit of modernity, I'll spend most of the gig crowd surfing, before being led from the venue by friends and security staff and placed in the ambulance back to Fairmile. Thankyou for your time.

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