26 September 2006

It Ain't What You Do, It's The Way That You Do It...

I've been having an awful lot of trouble with Daddy Longlegs and Mosquitos - have you? I believe that my present location could be the epicentre of flying insect life in the United Kingdom - perhaps a sinister off shoot of the nearby Aldermaston weapons facility. Anyway, I am bitten to buggery and have arms so swollen, they make Popeye look like Karen Carpenter.
In my attempt to`make this blog appear more relevant - and deflect from the fact that I am doing bugger all at present, I'd just like to say that I don't rate Gordon Brown's chances very much. I expect that this last piece of blogging wisdom will flash across the world, and that I'll become highly influential...more highly influential. Did you notice how his eyes went all slitty during his big speach? - Not suggesting a Duke of Edinburgh style Yellow peril alert, but really, he ought to be able to open his eyes if he expects to be PM. Brown - to me, has always looked like a swarthy b movie local lout, encountered in a roadhouse on the A1 in 1961. Imagine if your Ford Zephyr broke down en route to an important business meeting in BIrmingham, and you needed to use a phone. You make your way to the all night cafe at the nearest lay by, only to be accosted by a gang of bikers, swathed in black leather, riding Triumphs, Nortons and BSA's - listening to Gene Vincent records. Brown is the ring leader - a big bullying local bull...probably called Johnny, chaining Players No 6 and glugging pepsis. He strikes swan vestas on his chin and makes a pass at your secretary, then, when like the decent ex army chap you are,you tell him to tone it down a bit, he challenges you to a fight with bicycle chains..which you eventually win using the Queensbury rules. Anyway, that's what I think, and I'm a blogger, and we're the new voice of reason.

Had a most enjoyable weekend in the wilderness - except for the mosquitos, jamming with the great and the good. Look out for the Bananarama remixes - featuring Saw and Ukelele. Night night.

20 September 2006

Old Pulteney Single Malt

I've just watched a documentary on the television about Princes William and Harry, and their prospective brides - Kate and Chelsy. I'd forgotten that there was some kind of deal done to let these young men grow up - relatively unmolested by the media - to ensure their transit through adolescence to manhood ran smoothly. Oh fuck, I'm afraid there's going to be more of this stuff soon. This one featured the esteemed Jenny Bond - a woman...on the birth certificate at least, and a man with bleached hair and effeminate gestures who may or may not be the wedding frock designer. I know I'm being trivial here - what on earth is an aesthete like my self even doing watching stuff like this you might well ask? Car Crash television...no pun intended, when I could be watching Curb Your Enthusiasm or MTV Cribs? It just so happened that I'd consumed some delightful whisky - purchased from the Royal Berkshire Livestock show, and I was unable to get up from my seat, or indeed - locate the channel changer. Rather like Alex in Clockwork Orange, forced to witness attrocities with his eyes pinned open...although it was quite entertaining. I can now predict with some accuracy, the next ten years. It's a bit grim I'm afraid.

What occurs to me while being force fed this stuff, is that we've got it all wrong, and with a few minor adjustments all could be well. The solution is close at hand if we could but grasp it. There are many right thinking people, who but for a ha'apeth of tar could all be singing from the same hymn books.
We're fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan - a group of committed young men, whose enthusiasm could be coralled towards the greater good - with the merest of re education. They're not very respectful to ladies, but...if they could be re programmed somewhat, they'd be extrememly useful. Once they had embraced the sisterhood they could be imported to these shores. Do you think they'd stand for late night television? No way. Big Brother? The heads would be off before even tourettes victim could say Fuck Robinson. Apart from the ladies thing...and an intolerence to music, how do they differ in outlook from ecologists? I am quite certain that Osama Bin Laden would advocate the use of compost toilets, wind power, and better school meals.
Many of the people who dislike the current playlisting policy of Radio One, would share many other views with those engaged in Jihad. Pixel animation, Hollywood blockbusters...nearly everything on BBC 3.
I might draw a balloon diagram to illustrate this. In the outer balloons will be some of the more obscure, irrational hatreds, but the cross overs will show a remarkable similarity in world views. Did you know for example that the last gig Osama Bin Laden attended was Donny and Marie Osmond in Ryhad in 1983? Or that he was until 1987, a member of the Earth Wind and Fire fan club? Or that he was a guest of this country at the Royal Wedding in 1981? Even as late as 2000, he wrote a letter to Kylie Minogue requesting a private performance...who knows how things might have differed had she accepted? What is particularly galling about all this, is that George W Bush was also a member of the Earth Wind and Fire fanclub. They might disagree on certain ideologies but the two fuckers share a record collection.
Did you know that Pope Benedict drove a VW Golf? So did Osama. So did Tony. There's room for dialogue.
What we need is a great big melting pot. I'm calling for world peace....here, now...and I'll be in charge. Good night.

19 September 2006

Did You Miss Me Yeah When I Was Away?

Ah, so that's it is it? Looks like I'm back in the world of bloggage. I'm afraid I had a complete mental collapse - not a nervous breakdown or anything artistic - just geriatric amnesia. Well suddenly, the old grey matter had sputtlered back into life, and ...well here I am again. I forgot my bank pin number for months as well, which was a bit inconvenient for those I had to tap up for a bit of cash.
Sadly, nothing much has been going on...well it might have been, but I've forgotten it. I appear to have a sun tan, so perhaps I've been somewhere.
My workrate has gorund to a complete halt - no writing, no music, nothing of any value whatsoever. My novel has still not been published - all is limbo. A third Mrs Moore has not been located, although I have been making enquiries in various places.

I have been contemplating another novel - I even went on a research trip - to Slough Sewage Works, but I'm afraid that my chanels are still blocked. Perhaps it's time to make another record, or do a gig or something. I'm not that desperate to do anything - I still have my hair and teeth, and since I reduced my cake in take, my stomach seems to have receded to more manageable proportions...fact is, I'm in trim.

Should anybody have a lovely one bed flat to rent me in the Hampstead, Swiss Cottage area - for a fraction of the market rate, do feel free to contact me.

I believe I'll be wintering in the capital this year. Although Burghfield has been kind to me, I don't think I can stand it much longer...

Thankyou to everybody who got in touch to ask me why I wasn't blogging. The two of you can rest assured that I shall be back at it regularly.

Mum's just brought me some sandwiches, so over and out.


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