NAPALM DEATH & Fibbers crucified my eardrums (I wasn’t using them anyway though)

An unusually balmy Saturday evenin oop North in Yarkshire’s fair capital city. A pre-perambulatin gargle of some delightful moonshine blackcurrant vodka, lager flowing int most haunted hostelry The Golden Fleece, arseholes sharking. All is normal, as it should be. Next Stop the ‘flesh pot’ that is Fibbers (back int day chavvy tart-stop Fazers (full of handbag dancers and Stock Aitken and Waterman watered dowm ‘palatable’ tripe), defs off the radar and now so very on it, espesh as competition has sprung up in the form of  (among other venues) The Duchess – right on the goddamn doorstep dontcha knowit (barefaced cheek).

Oh yes, yes, and here I am magically transported back to 17 years of age as the headline act so happens to be NAPALM DEATH. OK, so it aint the exact original line up but they scorch and the diverse crowd is appreciative. Packed to the rafters with everydude from Jesus n Mary to tasty tarts tottery on stilty Carvella heels (not in the mosh pit, thank Jesus’ son) aongside boys too young to remember any 80s furore and an ample mix of 40 something ’blokes’ who left their office jobs at 4pm on Friday, begged the Mrs for a pass-out and will no doubt be washing the car and cutting the lawn as I tap away here. Fibbers – on the whole a fearful looking throng but a most friendly crowd, don’t judge by the facial iron-mongery ok? Tattoos are just walking art with a pulse.

Damage: mainly bruises, ear-drums and unspecified shoulder injury. A rip-roaringly good time was had by all who let loose.

Next (today, having fed Weetabix to my kids) trundling out’n'about in a VW bus that is almost as old as me -long live the midlife crisis! For the week… The Primitives this very coming Wednesday….Here I go, way too fast….yippeeee……roll on 89.

concrete jungle? Go ‘Guerilla Gardening’…seed warfare!

Fever Ray  is so right we do ‘live between concrete walls’ and unfortunately sometimes have to spend most of our days encased in conrete, having travelled like moles in sardine cans in long tubes of underground concrete. As per previous blogs, i really wish i had listened in science at school, swotted and got me an education in order to have a job in marine biology or conservation or something natural, wonderful and awe inspiring (and less concretey).

Ha ha, having filled up my pocket handkerchief sized gaden with foxgloves and purple sprouting broccolli etc I feel the need to spread my seed farther afield. Plus I am sick of seing dilapidated un-planted un-green concrete enclosed space.

So, i have an excess of ‘forget-me-not’  and ‘honesty’ seedlings and here’s the plan, stan : I intend to distribute these amongst the scrub ground opposite my humble abode. I may venture farther afield also, the local nature reserve, my favourite woodland etc etc. Soon green and pretty will be all around me rocking my world again – yaahey!

learn more – lots can be done, even seedbombing on a boring commute, ever wondered where a pretty patch of colour came from on the hardshoulder?

http://www.guerrillagardening.org/

It’s not just for London btw.

Fonejacker turns Facejacker

The unveiling of  British-Iranian comedy genius Kayvan Novak, as the be-bobbled balaclavad bod behind Fonejacker has prompted new series ‘Facejacker’ which will start screening C4 10 p.m. this coming Friday.

Will the public buy the playful prosthtics pranks and be bamboozled by Nokaks borat-stylee  surreal skits? You decide. Lap it up kitty-katkins…

Novak’s  next outing is with the formidable of the comedic Chris Morris in the forthcoming film ‘Four Lions’….oh my giddy god or animated allah. Promises sensational, provacative and potentially titillating mujahideen madness from the sulky Salinger of comedic swipes. Can.not.wait.

In the meantime. Friday nights look like this: BBC1 Striking up a Quattro with Gene Hunt in ‘Ashes to Ashes’ then over to FX for the HBO hit ‘Trueblood’ at which point i will now be fiddling with a a Sky remote and ‘plussing’ the jacker of phones come faces….marvellous. I may break a crate of high strength lager and then…dance with my pets…or something.

RIP or mayhem/chaos Malcolm McLaren

Cosmopolitan ‘promotion’ (advert) MaxFactor Second Skin Foundation

thank you SO MUCH, Cosmopolitan Magazine and Max Factor slap co. for your joint venture ‘promotion’ in Jan 2010 issue. ‘We all want flawless skin, but finding the right foundation can be harder than tracking down the perfect pair of jeans’  OK my heckles are up there in the air already alrighty. Arses.

I could let this slide with the usual smug looking ‘celebrity’ make up artist endorsement and bullshittery about new technology, skin-breathing blah, & blarh & blargggghh.

Somebody in PR has gotten cocky, gotten clever and when the ad ‘boasts’ the product as having a ‘featherlight texture that contains up to 60% water so it spreads evenly and blends to a seamless finish’ well even i spat out the last swig of high strength lager i am treating myself to this very evening.

So ladies, 60% of your RRP £13.99 is wasted on water. It comes out of the tap. You do the math.

sexy MF. just a load of BS.

MaxFactor maketing bumwipers, eff off.

Sickly Sophie or Delicious Miss Dahl. BBC 2 Tuesdays 8.30.

you know when i start a rant with…. ‘i really like’ Sophie Dahl…this means that, maybe i do actually, really like her or maybe i thought i liked her or maybe i find her more interesting than a vacuous void in a black hole of nothing.  whichever way the proverbial cookie crumbles, chances and perhapses are that I am about to rip the poor tart to shreds.

I mean she can’t be all bad, she is the gargantuan grand-daughter of kooky kids writer Roald Dahl. She was a ‘plus’ size model at a size 14/16, which is actually a pretty average size to be in the Uk. bearing in mind the woman is 10 feet tall, she was stick thin compared to us normal 5’5″ birds (however, that grumpy grumble is not the fault of Miss Dahl and more to do with the media-schemdia and bollock-brained fashion industry – thanks for feeding the influenza of bulimia et al).

Get yer buns out. SMEG.

My beef is with Ms Dahl and her latest cookery venture with beeb2. I was actually a bit hacked off before the show itself even started due to the relentless ad campaign. Afterall, here is a posh, priviledged woman who probably has more than enuff spends in the bank, so why not give a young up and coming talented chef/ette some airspace and brass? Well Miss Dahl is working that Nigella flirty sucky finger thing and cashing in her enigmatic aura why-thank-you. Perma citing her ex-residency of Noo Yoike and flashing an engagement ring the £cost£ of which could probably feed a small African nation or 4 for a year or 5. Cornflake girl. Bile rising smuggery.

The programme itself dumbs down cooking, simple, tasty basics that you could just improvise from your mothers Be-Ro book actually, filled with lots of pointless moody Dahl camera shots in parks, on beaches etc blah and nostalgic mutterings to some person just left of camera. WHO the hell are you actually flirting with woman? The boom operator or the just the boom? At least Delia looks centre camera and talks to ME.

All this coupled with Bod-stylee simpleton cartoonery…..well…..pass the sickbag PLEEEEESUM.

In her favour? Her skin away from the studio-lit kitchen is a pizza-type friggin mess (YES!) and she is (now) married to a man-foetus (WHY? WHY?).

this may not be legal in some countries

an intellectual D:ream. Prof Brian Cox. Wonders of the solar system. BBC2 Sundays 9pm

he gave up a successful pop career tinkling the plaggy ivories to concentrate on becoming a boffin of physics and went on to be the socially acceptable, unbearded face of large hadron collider fame. and now is the beebs presenter of physicy-boring-stuff magicking said material into a thing of pure interest, beauty and wonder making me wish i had done more than doodled and thrown spit-balls in science (i blame the teachers).

This guy knows the secret to life – literally and laterally. Presenting what most of us yawned at and tuned out at school with such apparent love and joy for the subject, if you fail to be swept along the current of interest by him then you’re dead. you just don’t know it yet.

things...can only get....(sorry, can't help it.....'taxi!')

now, quantum physics and new science is particularly close to my heart so maybe i am biased here but i love how this guy makes potentially dull but important stuff accessible. Genius.

OK, back to my normal vacuous self. He is a D:ream to look at.

yum

So, are we part of a cosmic community? Sure am Sam.

Sorry Professor but my head is disappearing up Uranus.

Enuff already.

Apologies.

From the same gene pool? OMFG is Abbie Cornish the secret love child of Nicole Kidman?

Scandalmongers AHOY!?

Hello, I am thinking the lovely Abbie Cornish, recently accosted for Madonnas next directorial celluloidal offering bears more than the proverbial passing resemblance to fellow Aussie golden goddess Nicole Kidman.

thinking 'it was Madonna, I was dazzled, ok?'

Now, should you think of the gene pool scenario, Oz must be predominantly populated by fewer genes than possibly other countries and nations, i aint going into the whole history thang ici -check wiki if you can be arsed. But basically, if you have ever visited one of those Yorkshire towns, far in the sticks, away from civilisation where everybody looks the same, there is a reason for this and it is a wonder there are not more birth defects.

I digress….suffice to say, ‘blummin ummers!’ they do look rather alike doncha be thinking? Anyone want to confess or shall i just have a poke about on ‘Genes Reunited’ huh? HUH?

Madonna signs Abbie Cornish alongside Vera Farmiga & Ewan McGregor for ‘W.E’

An Aussie (Abbie Cornish) and a Scott (Ewan McGregor) in roles for Madonnas directorial brainchild ‘W.E’ ? A tres English tale of King Edward VIII abdication and subsequent wed-lock betrothal to American socialite Wallis Simpson.

Farmiga (Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Up In The Air) apparently having signed up to star as Simpson over a rather English cup of tea, having confessed to not been aware of Mistress Madge’s earlier directorial work.

Vera Farmiga. No striped Pyjamas then..

Hmmmm, thinking accents? Thinking…will this be a really good reason to avoid the cinema in 2011? Wondering if there is any filth? Wondering if there is any wisdom….lessons learned?

Having seen only the reviews rather than the actual film Filth & Wisdom, I have not a blinkin clue as to whether it was slated due to it being a film with Madonna involvement or whether it was actually awful…..i should really be giving it eyes to make an informed decision….but Einstein is wrong, time is not an illusion, it is limited.

Fruity Veg (a chunk of potato that looks like a breasticle)

Oooooh la la.

So, there I am stirring and seasoning a batch of most delicious and warming Moroccan Chickpea Soup ( summer is on the way, this dish is strictly a winter warmer, i’m getting it while i can, before the salads take over) and there is is as i take a slurp from the spoon to see if we be needing more salt or celeriac. . .

a rack of...spud?

and it cannot be stated just how much this piece of spud does actually look like a nork. The totally daft thing is, i cut up the mummy spud and never ‘spotted’ it – alice in wonderland again? but with a knife? Jeeeeeeeeeeeesus.

So, i admit, i am immature, i still laugh at bodily expulsions of air, think sex is funny and marvel at leaves and the way the moon waxes and wanes, the tides turn and the seasons roll. Y’see since the whole EEC thingy marched in like some anti-fun storm trooper with a benevolent mask and told our supermarkets how much of a curve bananas were allowed (among other ‘space core directives’), you just don’t get to see fruity veg (or fruity fruit) any more. It’s a bag full o shame. Esther Ranzen must be hopping mad.  Almost gone is one of mother natures tickle sticks, just as Tesco has all but wiped out the greengrocer form the high street like some thick booted retail nazi git. btw PLEASE SHOP AT YOUR LOCAL GREENGROCER while you still have one, if you still have one. I guarantee there is much more potential to encounter fruity veg and therefore have a manic giggle. Laughter heals all, don’t laugh (but actually yes, do) it’s true.