Hours of fun (in a completely shallow and, like, totally gay way). I'm still on the B's.
Thanks April.

I bought the new Interpol album yesterday (at a shop!) and took it home last night to convert it to mp3 and dump on my player to listen to at work today. The cnuts at the record company have copy protected it and therefore I cannot rip any mp3's from it. If I can't convert this album then I shall be forced to return it to the shop for a refund and then download the album for free. I've heard a rumour that if you hit 'shift' when you put the cd in the computer it disables the auto-run which by-passes the annoying software on the cd. Is this true? Douglas? Alan? Anyone?

We watched The Trio on dvd last night. It’s like a gay German version of The Grifters but with bleak scenery. Father and daughter pick-pockets take on a sexy new apprentice (played exceedingly well by my new German boyfriend) and then both shag him. It was nicely written and the characters, (petty and uncaring thieves) were so well played that I cared for them. It’s got a lovely twist at the end and a really great shower scene. Two thumbs up from us.

Funny article in the Guardian today about a farmer from Orkney who has been brought to London in a sort of reversal of that celebrity mucking-out show The Farm on telly. He’s great and remains unfazed by dinner at the Ivy (sitting near to Gail from Coronation Street), a minimalist hotel room at The Hempel, a dance at Chinawhite and a haircut and manicure at Dunhill. When he was asked if he sees any point to London he says “we need London to blame for everything that’s gone wrong in the country”. Bless.

And also in today’s Guardian is a piece about the President of Nigeria banning the national football team from wearing their hair in braids. He says that Nigeria’s youths are copying the football stars and that in the developing world the braiding of hair promotes homosexuality. So, if you’re not gay and you have braids in your hair then you soon will be. I mean, look what happened to David Beckham after he grew out his braids.

A few months ago I was raving about a song by Johnnyboy and then TD kindly pointed me to Fluxblog where I was able to download it. While I was at Fluxblog I came across a couple of tracks by The Go Team! and thought they were fantastic. So I got their album and it’s brilliant (like Estelle, DJ Shadow and Belle and Sebastian all jamming at the Motown studios) and tomorrow I’m going to see them at the Barfly in Camden. But the best bit is they’re playing in Stockholm on the day we arrive and after a few emails to the Swedish promoters we’re on the guest list! Marvelous.

There's a marvelous debate going on at BW today about moaning. Actually it's not about moaning, it's about stuff that annoys folk. I'm no different from anyone else in that I get annoyed by certain aspects of 21st century living. But I'm a big believer in letting someone know that they are annoying me. Why, only this morning, as I drove my scooter to work, I pulled up level to a bendy-bus driver and called him, and his mother, ugly, fat, pig-fuckers because he was not keeping his bus in the bus lane. This outburst made me feel better and let him know that his actions were annoying someone. When something annoys us the English way seems to be to put on a sucked-lemon-face and tut and walk away and then have a moan to a friend/colleague/family member (who will, of course, back you up and make supporting "ooh I know, I hate that too" sounds). And I know what you're thinking - "but what if I get a smack if I moan at someone?". Tough. These are the breaks. In my experience the person whom you approach about their behaviour is usually so shocked that the worst thing that will happen is you get a swift "fuck off". To which you should reply calmly "sticks and stones..." and walk off in a superior manner. They will remember this altercation and correct their behaviour. Eventually. Luckily, not much annoys me (unlike Darren who always wants to do a Johnny Wilkinson kick to any crying babies within his earshot and then put a loaded gun in the mouth of the mother as punishment for bringing the little ones out of the house and forcing us all to hear them).

It's years since 'they' promised us that new movies would open simultaneously around the world but it hasn't happened yet. Which is good news for DVD pirates but not for your average joe who doesn't like breaking the law. This opened last week in America and there is no release date for the UK so now I'm depressed as it looks like he might be back on form.
*checks expedia for cheap flights to Baltimore*

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Novocaine was slightly unsatisfying. I can’t recommend it as a great Steve Martin movie but I can recommend it as a great Scott Caan film *does wolf whistle and rubs palms up and down thighs while sliding off couch* (must rent Varsity Blues one day as that film has Scott doing some nude scenes got some good reviews). Did you know Scott used to be in a rap group in the early 90’s? He was a member of Whooliganz (he called himself Mad Skillz) and they made a couple of cd’s and were friendly with Cypress Hill. He’s so talented.

Cartoons are great.

Boo! Spongebob is gay I say. What would his creator know about it anyway?

Another one of Disneys 'nine old men' shuffles off. Must get The Aristocats off the shelf tonight and give it a whirl.

A survey of 1000 25-40 year olds in the UK has put Tom and Jerry at number one in a list of favourite cartoon shows. Scooby Doo (my favourite but pre-Scrappy) is at number 2. Nice to see Top Cat and Wacky races doing well too.

Watched Monster last night. Don't you love a good serial killer/hooker movie? It was bloody good and nice to see that The Academy made the right decision with Charlize. Went to Tesco this morning and bought some lovely new cheap clothes. Like a good (value) homo I got a new winter wardrobe (for £30! *strains to hear readers mutter "chav" as they read this). Best friend Tom came round when we got back to tell us that he's been head-hunted to manage a bank in Moscow and will be moving there in January. I'm still amazed that I know someone who can save £9000 every month from their salary. Tom doesn't shop at Tesco. I went to bed for a nap at 4pm and woke up at 8pm all discombobulated then had a curry (healthy living by Tesco, 6 weight watchers points). Darren is watching Silent Witness downstairs then we will watch Novocaine because we heart Steve Martin. I wanted to go to Duckie tonight to show off my new cheap clothes but I can't be arsed now. That would mean having a bath, doing my hair, ironing, re-doing my hair (only to stick a crash helmet on which would wreck the 'do'), driving to Vauxhall in the drizzle and then driving home in the pouring rain (cos it's sods law that it rains for my monthly visit). So I will stay in and listen to some music while I wait for Silent Witness to finish. Current sounds pleasuring my lugs are 'Au Reve' by Cassius, the first Interpol album, 'Medulla' by Bjork and 'On' by Imperial Teen. The Great North Run is on telly tomorrow morning and my Uncle George is running. Look out for him, he's the sexy marine with the moustache.

Darren bought me the refreshed and enhanced London Calling yesterday. Tis a beauty to fondle and has uber sexy packaging. It includes a Don Letts dvd documentary on the making of the album in 79 with footage that isn’t on the Westway To The World dvd, marvellous. Now, don’t get the wrong impression of me, I’m not one of these old punks harking back to the old days and moaning about the state of today’s music scene. I much prefer new stuff, I still buy the NME and watch MTV2 and The Amp. I hardly ever play music I bought, copied or downloaded from last year never mind 25 years ago. But London Calling has stood the test of time and (to quote Kool And The Gang) it still sounds fresh and exciting. This blog is not named after the album.

We watched Party Monster last night. I saw it at the cinema when it was out and didn’t think much of it but enjoyed it much more the second time. Seth Green acts Macaulay Culkin off the screen and Marilyn Manson does a good turn as a tranny. Actually, Seth was a little bit too good at doing camp which helped prick Darrens interest as he’s always had a thing for short ginger lads.

It's a shitty old world to be sure. Hurricanes, floods, mudslides, extremists, greedy capitalists, pin-heads in power, debt ridden morons, inflation, twelve year old alcoholics, ten year old suicide bombers, eight year old bullies, pension thieves, tropical diseases, someone called 'Dr Germ', MOD terrorists, executions on telly, economic asylum seekers, cancer, aids, oil, ice-caps, greenhouse gases, pollution....
*falls off chair from stress of realisation*

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It's been such a grim week weather wise. Nearly time to get the winter bike gloves out (may swallow my vanity this winter and try out some handlebar muffs). Stuff on the horizon that cheers me during bored bouts of rat race living include a trip to Stockholm with the fella, The Scissor Sisters at the Winter gardens in Blackpool, and two weeks in Florida just before Christmas. My Dad is now reluctant to take my Mum to New Zealand next spring (various meetings, golf competitions, allotment and hen keeping commitments). He promised her this trip a year ago so it now looks like me and Darren will be pissing him off real soon when we announce that we are going to take her. When he finds out I expect him to say something along the lines of "well, if we're all going I'll get Billy Whatsit to look after the hens". I am happy to travel with my Mum but wouldn't dream of heading to the other side of the world with both of them. My Dad is too much like me and we would fight over the driving and maps.

If you haven't seen Goodbye Lenin yet then do. It's funny and poignant and looks great (who'd have thought East Berlin in the 80's could look so cinematic). The cute main fella had a great Heinkel scooter - bonus! The scene where the coma lady goes outdoors for the first time in eight months and sees a helicopter transporting a gigantic statue of Lenin across the skyline is just genius.



In other news - quiet weekend round at spellcnut towers. Recovering slowly from the fevers. No alcohol or sex but lots of rock 'n' roll and biscuits. I've been playing at being The Prodigy using this programme on my new PC (I stopped short at screwing an Appleton though). I gave Edward the dog a haircut yesterday but gave up halfway through as he got bored and ran off. Now he looks like he's been to a Hoxton/Shoreditch hairdresser (i.e. ridiculous). Darren has gone to Leeds today, it's very windy and I have a frozen shepherds pie for lunch.

Two minutes before 10pm last night our NTL cable TV set top box crashed. That's two minutes before Six Feet Under! FUCKERS! Good job I was very full from a big biriani earlier in the evening or I'd have hit the choccy biscuits with a vengeance. We watched Capturing The Friedmans on DVD instead. It was a bit grim and the Friedmans weren't very likeable so it wasn't a good replacement for Six Feet Under. Thank Madonna for second chance Sundays.
So, because the cable was knocked out, we had no internet. And my new PC was arriving today. Great timing NTL. Anyway, to cut a long and boring story short, I am now online at my new PC. If Darren wasn't out getting drunk in town right now he'd be overjoyed (though I'm fairly sure he's happy wherever he is at this moment) as I've been hogging his PC for the past month or so.
I watched Spellbound tonight and it was fantastic. I carnt spel for peenuts so thoughs kids had me flabbergasted.

Have I been in a coma for 7 months and woken up on April 1st?

I bought a new PC fron Dell online on Monday night. I had various upgrades added and managed to screw a good deal out of them. They just called to tell me that it will be with me this Friday. Blimey that was quick. Tantrums start soon (I just know networking it with Darrens machine will be a nightmare).

My fella is taking me to Stockholm next month for a long weekend. Any tips/recommendations?

Crossing my fingers worked! Well done Mike Leigh for getting the Golden Lion in Venice. And congratulations to Imelda Staunton who won the best actress gong too for the same film. Vera Drake looks great. Nice to see that long time Leigh collaborator Ruth Sheen (thats her on the left)is in the film. Remember how a few years ago we all had to imagine how BW looked? He was the only blogger who really knew. I imagined she looked like Ruth Sheen. How wrong I was (luckily for BW!).

I was too poorly to make it to Trafalgar Square tonight to see The Pet Shop Boys. Also I couldn't be bothered. If they'd planned to do another 'performance' then I might have had a wash and mosied down there for a shufty. I think they were just going to pretend to play their casios along to an old black and white Hammer horror film starring Oliver Reed. Anyway, it was raining in North London at 8pm so it would have just been a sea of pink brolly's in front of the stage/screen and with my luck I'd have been stood next to the drunk fan shouting for "West End Girls!".

We went into Brick Lane at tea time on Saturday and had a curry. Then we went on Carnesky's Ghost Train. Which was interesting. Not scary but very interesting. It's very beautiful and haunting and it's about women crossing borders both emotionally and geographically through the metaphor of the magician's assistant. I was getting more and more into it after each rotation and some of the effects were brilliant. The 'performers' worked wonders on the tiny stages and the finale was wonderful (I won't spoil it any further as it has over a week left to run). Go.

I wasn't always an expert at masturbating. For a long time, I got it all wrong. I'd slide down banisters, rub against the cat — anything to get that feeling down there. Once, I was grinding against my bedroom door, and I tore it off the hinges. That took a lot of explaining! Gave me a heck of a scare, too. Not long after that, I learned the secret: Take off your pants.

I don't want to brag or anything — but I'm pretty darned good at it. In fact, I just masturbated a few minutes ago, and I came so hard I almost shit the bed. Now, that doesn't mean there's no room to improve. Life is a journey, and it's up to the individual to make as much of it as possible. So, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of right now.

Just typed a big post about the Rolling Stones, cheerleader movies and Clint Eastwood's shrivelled penis. Then explorer crashed and I lost it all. Fuming with a mouthful of chewy phlegm. *heads back to bed to watch poor people on Trisha*

It's mononucleosis! Glandular fever to you and me. No doubt caught in the mosh pit at Morrissey on Saturday. Certainly hasn't been caught the 'traditional' way - kissing. Work have sent me home. Hurrah! No medicines, just rest and avoiding stress. I hope The Love Boat or Ironside or Quincy is on TV this afternoon (great sick-boy telly). Please, don't send flowers.

Bit sick today. At work though. Got a mega sore throat. Feels like a tennis ball is lodged in there. Had hot/cold sweats last night in bed so slept poorly. Comfort food for lunch - fig rolls, paracetamol and hot sweet tea. Bought Ann Tylers new book this past Saturday and finished it last night. It's brilliant and made me sob. Please read (it's so good I really want to share it with you all). Next up is Hunting Unicorns. Watched thirty minutes of Passion Of Christ last night but thought it was boring so went to bed. Darren watched it all. Kudos to Mel Gibson for making something 'controversial' within Hollywood (hardly a 'safe' movie by anyones standards). Fingers crossed for Mike Leighs new movie in competition in Venice (and hurrah! for troublemakers).

*hobbles home on crutches with many broken toes and ribs*

The ballroom was stunning. But had poor acoustics. And twelve awesome chandeliers. I made the mistake of squeezing my way to the front. The lights went down and then the recording of this came on:

adolf hitler. the dentist. terry & june. fucking bastard thatcher. scouse impersonator. silly pathetic girlies. silly pathetic woman. macho dickhead. bonnie langford. neighbours. lost keys. phoney friend. ungrateful accusing mate. the royal family. stock aitken & waterman. smiling judas. heartbreaking lying friend. myra hindley. acid rain. stinking rich female in furs. disloyal lover. wife & child beater. drunken abuser. racist. bully. the sun newspaper. aids inventor. leon brittan. all nonsense. massive massive oilslick. jimmy tarbuck. loneliness. cancer. hunger. greed. gut wrenching disappointment. evil gossiping fashion bastard. tasteless a&r wanker. hard cold fish. overdraft like a mountain. the jimmy swaggart show. the tory invention of the non-working class. poll tax. commie bashers. mister jesse helms. hillsborough. weird british judges. apartheid. john lennon's murder. anyone's murder. the breakdown of the nhs. the death of the rain forest. heysel stadium. rednecks. rape. homelessness. the all-american way. clause 28. tiananmen square. sexual harrassment. nelson mandela's imprisonment. nancy's term. ronnie's term. miscarriage. where were you?

And then all hell broke loose when he walked out. He took the mic and said "welcome to a big fat slice of saturday night!" I lasted for three songs then retired to the rear soaked with sweat and beer. 'How soon is now' was the opener (he didn't do this at Manchester on his birthday). The ballroom floor was sprung but at times I feared for our lives. The encore is still 'There is a light that never goes out'. He is still a complete showman and chatted after every song. He talked about 'Constipation Street' and how he's had two songs played on the Rovers jukebox lately. Apparently he left the venue wearing a flat cap. I wonder who's cleaning out his pigeons in LA while he's on tour.

Set list:
How soon is now?/First of the gang to die/Daddys Voice/How could anybody Know how I feel/Jack the Ripper/Munich air disaster 1958/Shakespeares Sister/I like you/ Everyday is like Sunday/Such a little thing/Let me kiss you/Rubber Ring/Now my heart is full/November/I know I couldnt last/Irish blood English heart/There is a light that never goes out.

Few more things: the place was packed with spunky straight lads with their tops off, the Dead 60's were supporting and were great (like Sandinista era Clash mixed with The Ruts when they discovered dub), I spotted the following 'celebs' - Jackie Clune, Ned Sherrin (honest!), The Zutons, Martin Platt from Corry and Mark Simpson (ggrrrrr!), the air conditioning units in the ballroom were made by Smiths (honest), it was a four shirt night for Morrissey as the Smiths air conditioning units were crap, when he flung the last one to the crowd he said "careful with that one, I bought it in Blackpool today, it's very shoddy". Cheeky bastard!

So, anyway, what difference does it make if Sheila takes a bow or not? None I say, because heaven knows I'm miserable now and thats all that counts. The boy with the thorn in his side only has to ask and I'll put my hand in glove and take his prick out. No need to panic. Uh-oh, big mouth strikes again (how was I to know his girlfriend was in a coma?). It's not like I started something I couldn't finish is it? He shouted "shirtlifters of the world unite" as he got the drinks in at the Shakespeares Sister. I told him to shut up. Told him that joke isn't funny anymore but he just went off on one about a light that never goes out on his landing at home. William, I said, it was really nothing. I can be so charming sometimes.

Off to Blackpool in the morning. I shall be having cocktails in the Spanish Galleon bar in the Winter Gardens from 6pm on Saturday. Feel free to join me.

*must remember Morrissey ticket must remember Morrissey ticket must remember Morrissey ticket must remember Morrissey ticket must remember Morrissey ticket*

It's called doing an Alan...

Notice to people who visit our home:
1. The dog lives here. You don't.
2. If you don't want dog hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.
3. Yes, he has some disgusting habits. So do we and so do you. What's your point?
4. OF COURSE he smells like a dog.
5. It's his nature to try to sniff your crotch. Please feel free to sniff
his.
6. We like him a lot better than we like some people.
7. To you he's a dog. To us he's an adopted son who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly. We have no problem with any of these things.
8. Dogs are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug-using friends, don't smoke or drink, don't worry about whether they have the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, don't need a 3rd mortgage for college, and if they get pregnant you can sell the pups.
9. The same applies for the cats, except they will ignore you ...until you're asleep.