It'll be into a new era that we travel as Blackpool Pleasure Beach loses it's two kingpins within 2 weeks of each other. Doris and her son Geoffrey will be riding the best roller coasters in heaven while, hopefully, steering the new directors onto faster and steeper things.

And nice to see this in the Observer on Sunday. And good to see the local NW news report that property prices in the town have rocketed nearly 30% in the past year. And if you're bored with that ancient North-vs-South debate then this will bring a smile to your face.

"Animal fat is the food of a dominant people. The cry for vegetable oil in Lancashire was for the feeding of an inferior people. Animal fat for the dominant race. Animal fat for the dominant county within that race."

Le Pool Noir.
The trains ran like clockwork there and back (30 minutes less than the drive would have been). We missed the match. Shame. The W in Wilkinsons exploded sending burning plastic down onto the hen party lining up to get into Funny Girls. The sun shone nearly all weekend and the sands were warm and inviting. It was good to race around the Pleasure Beach on classic wooden roller coasters with steel wheels covered in grease. And it was good to ride trams with fat Yorkshire folk. The ham-off-the-bone was superb and the barista talented (the 'pool' gone all gastro, my oh my). The evil tranny DJ here made us laugh. She insults everyone as they walk into the pub. But once you’re in you’re ok. “Ooooooh, look! It’s the Myra Hindley fan club!”
Pictures to your right...

Crikey! High winds!
*throws stuff over shoulder looking for kite under stairs*

Off to Blackpool tonight on the train. The 18.30 train. It better be deserted. Shall miss a football match apparently. Tom is coming with me. He is bringing a radio with a flesh coloured earpiece. I shall sit in silence reading this and sucking on a midget gem.
Darren has been in Cornwall all week with his job so it's been a lonely time round at spellcnut towers. Boredom has resulted in a lot of housework. You could eat your dinner off our floors china now. The bed's too big without you.

It takes a lot to force a tear through my blue eyes but I read this and then had to go for a walk down 10 floors in a deserted stairwell wiping away salty water on my shirt sleeve.

Didn't he do well.

A list before church:

Drink a bucket of hazelnut flavoured coffee
Eat a creamy curry
Rediscover the beauty of Loveless by My Bloody Valentine
Fall in love with another Almodovar movie
Secretly wish to be a Madrid tranny
Complete collection of Beck cd’s (he’s the white Prince you know)
Varnish front door
Scrub oven
Smile gently through A Mighty Wind
Pretend to be Toni or Guy on the dog
Be amazed at number of Russians in Argos
Declare Mateus Rose as the wine of Euro 2004
Suffer with pollen allergy
DestroyRock&Roll

Nothing much to say really. Sleeping patterns up the spout due to warm nights and hayfever. BF working till midnight this week (and I’m too dumb to be happy with my own company so the dog now thinks I’m crazy for chattering away to him). Dropped my new scooter and damaged the side panels yesterday while avoiding hitting a sandal wearing cnut from the Amnesty International offices who hasn’t grasped how to cross a road yet (she skipped off with her Fairtrade coffee without even apologising, CNUT!). Damage to my bike would have been minimal if I’d just hit her. Lesson learnt. I know I should be more interested in Big Brother, football, my job, exercising and gardening but I really can’t be arsed with ANYTHING at the moment. Summer stupor has me by the knackers and probably won’t let go until autumn. Though I did buy a book last week and am thoroughly enjoying it (which is nice as I haven’t even had the inclination to flick through this months Classic Colt magazine). Normal service will hopefully be resumed soon.

Oh no! Forgot about this, dang. Never mind.

I'm on page three of the Metro newspaper today. Pictured watching the match last night in the Elusive Camel in Pimlico. Mail me if you want a signed copy. I'm in a bit of a bally hoo as I've just had 3 pints darn the boozer with my boss and I don't usually drink during the day. Before that I was in Brick Lane getting my scooter serviced so while they tinkered with the old boy I took a shufty round the art and design graduate shows at the old Truman Brewery. Lots of muttering from me of the "my dog could have done better than that" variety. Still, what do I know? Nowt.

National Psyche

Classic tunes like C30 C60 C90 Go and Memorabilia merged and mixed with Beat The Clock and Wanna Be Starting Something had the arty Hoxton/butch poofs yelling in delight last night at the Butt magazine party at 333 Old Street. Wayne Shires and his crew hogged the dancefloor but the crowd parted like the Red Sea when the 7 foot (in flat shoes!) black drag queen sashayed over to shake her thang to something by Chic (a straw in her can of Red Stripe - classy). Wolfgang Tillmans was wearing a stick-on-beard and holding court in a corner with a gaggle of Japanese photographers. I spotted at least 4 Westwood porno cowboy t-shirts but those coloured stripey polo/chav t-shirts are definitely all the rage. And beards, beards are still big news.

--------------------------------------------

Edward, our dog, is named after Edward the dog from Anne Tylers (my all time favourite author) The Accidental Tourist.
*unwraps gold ribbon from posh jam and sticks finger in*

This is the fictional Edward:

The book was much better than the movie (though the film was still brilliant). Confused?

A jar of posh jam for anyone who can guess from where we got the inspiration to name Edward (clue: a fictional dog called Edward is involved).

------------------------------------------------

If you want to come stroll along here with us this summer just let us know. Might buy you a 99 too.

------------------------------------------------

Stuff messing with my mind today:

Fort Lauderdale vs Miami vs Tampa vs Key West vs Pensacola vs New Orleans vs Mickey Mouse. Or take another week and do 'em all?

The Killers influences - B Movie? Teardrop Explodes (without the brass)? Psychedlic Furs?

Pollen - satans work.

What to wear to the Butt party tomorrow.

The bitch behind me at work with the cheap flip flops keeps getting up to walk around as she loves the shlip shlop sound of her crappy footwear (and I don't).

My parents planning a round-the-world trip for march next year. But who will look after the hens? (these are folk who thought they needed a passport to visit Barry Island 20 years ago)

Walking Edward in the morning is turning into Groundhog Day. Same faces, same route and same favourite pooping spot (Edwards not mine). Must do something different tomorrow *irons floral frock*.

The Killers album is smashing.

-----------------------------------------


Drove my scooter to Blackpool on Saturday. 8 hours of stunning scenery on Englands B-roads. Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, Warwickshire, Northamptonshire, Staffordshire and Lancashire. Green hills and big trees. And insects, millions of them.
Perfect seaside weather but Edward and Darren weren't with me so I was a bit lonely and came home a day early.

June is here and it's usually queer
but this year there's only a march and a piss-up to fear
but suddenly there's news of a 'do' in the park (christ, last year was a lark, not! )
with shit pop for tanned meat heads in tight tees trying to tease but failing to please
and drunkenly crawling on their knees in the bushes and mud excited by the thud thud thud
from a nearby tent with sweaty walls and the stink of poppers and pollen
and there's a queue to buy tokens to obtain booze to help you forget the hell of the past six hours
but cheer up poofter stop being so sour
here comes Kylie with her shaved fanny and fucking huge smile
bet she didn't just pay six quid for a tray of noodles
and look at that tent
Delta Virgin and Smirnoff corporate ass lickers but just for today
over there the police looking to recruit a fruit to tick a box to show Blair they care
but I swear they care enough to know they will never love us not like we love ourselves
and I stop to wonder if this rain will empty the park
and then it gets dark
and Ken tells us we're great (we know that you cunt)
but we cheer him anyway
and drink down our dregs and pull up our keks and hold hands as we leave
but only as far as the gates.