Saturday, April 29, 2006

The Future

There seem to be strange things afoot for 2006...

Half Man Half Biscuit (Now in the Wikipedia) frontman Nigel Blackwell revealed on the Tranmere Rovers website that their next album may well be a golf opera aimed at the US market (Scott Verplank guesting?). Considering this is a man who told The Guardian there was a Biscuit tribute band called "It Ain't Half Man, Mum!", this may be worth taking with a pinch of salt (It certainly cannot be attributed to the Scouce sense of humour as they're from across the water *spit*).




Also up and coming is a new book for John Cale look-a-like / Shooting Stars panelist Will Self, entitled "The Book of Dave". It's a classically Will Self idea, the inane ramblings of an East End taxi driver are written down only to be discovered 500 years later and mistaken for a religious text. I prefare his stuff with some dark humour behind it, as opposed to his damn weird stuff, so I'm looking forward to this.

Maybe it'll shape into a good year after all

I Was Looking For A Job And I Found Two Jobs

Typical, after months seeking full time employment two offers come along at once. It's all too easy to compare this to the arrival of buses, which is fitting, as the second offer is working for a bus companies information line. The second, bar tender for an international chain.

The problem is however which to choose? Something old versus something new? A short term contract versus a first foot into a career in the field? £5.05 an hour versus £8? Hmm...

On top of all that since these offers I've also been invited to an interview in Leeds to be a trainee assistant manger, and an added bonus, its a live in position. So many damn choices all of a sudden, The Fates sure have dealt me a tricky hand.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Lost Treasure

Hello Blogfans. I remember the distant past where my spare time was largely taken up by a poorly animated egg with boxing gloves who had a habit of ended up in perculiar situations and having to solve a variety of puzzles while second guessing what parts of the environment where dangerous.


Of course, I refer to Dizzy, of the classic Codemasters games. The endless hours of fun, frustration and spending entire Sunday afternoon in front of that green screen, back in the days before saved games where possible, when the closet thing available was battery back up...


All though late in finding it I found out you can download the second game in the series, Treasure Island Dizzy from the Codemasters website here. Although it is a slightly temperamental emulator it lets you relive the old days, and even save games. But like Hale & Pace or Punt & Dennis, looking back at what ruled your world 10 years ago can be a bit underwhelming...

It can also make you bald with sheer inept egg hating madness, and we all know that thats not what the world needs. In order to relieve you of this, here is the island map.

And if that isn't enough, here's a video showing off some smart arse would can finish the game in 21 mins 39 seconds. However, he is clearly sad because:

a) He can complete it
b) He can video it
c) He shares it

I only assume it's a bloke of course, but we all know it is. I find it hard to believe I could never complete these games, they look so easy now...

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Funkcyclopedia

It was good new this week to hear that George Clinton And The P-Funk All Stars will be playing this years Roskile Festival, which I intend to attend. Wasting time beofre filling in an application form for a job which was already too late I found myself on the rather colourful George Clinton home page where I came across the informative Funkcyclopedia.

Aquaboogie:
underwater throwdown; magic rythm for splanking noses

Around da way
From the neighborhood. "From around the way"

Big Bang Theory:
Funk set the universe in motion; ignition by Funk. Ain't nothin' but a party in a Black Hole

Black Hole:
Prime zone of Funkativity, nappy dogout, home to Star Child. Celestial body which suckulates the unfunky deep into its chocolaty centre

Bop Gun:
Dr. Funkenstein's greatest invention - one blast capable of splanking the funkless. The Star Child zaps Sir Nose D'VoidofFunk with the Bop Gun and Nose dances to the rythm of the flashlight.

Children of Production:
Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, come to blow the cobwebs out your mind

Clone Funk:
Joyful process by which Funkenstein creates in his own image Afronauts capable of funkatizing galaxies

Cosmic Slop:
Dancing with the Devil to pay your bills

Cro-nasal Sapiens:
The missing stink. Elephantinesnouted prehistoric ancestors of Sir Nose

Dr. Funkenstein:
Mad'glad scientist, master technician of Clone Funk; outer space tribal leader of the descendants of the Thumpasorus Peoples

Downstroke:
Standing on the verge of the Beat; a march to the rear towards the Final Splank

Ego Munchies:
All-night crazoid craving for pure egotronic unsatisfunktion

Electric Spank:
High-tech pimping of human instincts by the power brokers/jokers that be

Flashlight:
Funk-flesh artillery of the Bop Gun

Funk:
Used to be a bad word. Irre-ducible essential pulse, life force, hyperventilatin' Groove. Not only moves, it can re-move; will sit and sit and never go sour. "If you got Funk, you got style"

Funkadelica:
Throbassonic realm where nothing is good unless you play with it and all that is good is nasty

Funkentelechy:
Force by which Funk gets stronger. Shot with the Bop Gun, the funkatized are driven toward the attainment of the P-Funk by their own revitalized juices

G-funk:
Gangsta funk. Examples: Snoop Doggy Dogg, Warren G & Nate Dog.

George Clinton:
One of the most sampled men alive, creator of the P-Funk.

Honey Dip:
pretty young ladies with golden brown complexions

Maggot Brain:
State of mind and then the condition and position of your ass ("Free your mind and your ass will follow"). When you just say "Funk it!" and rise above a spankic situation

Mothership:
Outer space chariot bearing Star Child and Funkenstein back to Earth when it desreves a global splanking

Motor Booty Affair:
Bootyful funktion in downtown Atlantis where you can swim past reality behind a clock's back without getting wet. Ritualistic method of finding the One

Mr. Wiggles The Worm:
Subaquatic, ultrasonic, semibionic Clone of Dr. Funkenstein

The One:
The First Beat; wholeness, metafoolish perfection, as in "Everything is one the One"

One Nation:
Empire of the Groove, collective cathartic mass motor-vation

P.Funk (aka The P.):
Pure, uncut Funk, the Bomb; also Parliament-Funkadelic

Pinocchio Theory:
If you fake the Funk, your nose will grow

Placebo Theory:
Jivation through logic; how Noses everywhere spread fake Funk in place of the P., driving humans into perpetual do-loop or deep snooze

Pleasure Principle:
Pre-spanking self-satisfunktion

Rumpofsteelskin:
Bumpnoxious undersea avatar of Sir Nose

Sir Nose D'VoidofFunk (a.k.a. The Nose, Old Smell-o-Vision):
Putrified purveyor of of the Placebo Syndrome. Extended probosics from faking Funk. He's cool but has no groove; won't swim, sweat or dance

Splank:
Use of Funk to free minds and behinds from constipated notions; anti-spank

Star Child (alias The Long-Haired Sucker, Sir Lollipop Man):
Official representative of Funkentelechy; protector of the Pleasure Principle. Cosmic John the Bop-tist, arch-recording angel heralding the arrival of Dr. Funkenstein

Law of Supergroovalisticprosifunkstication:
Give the people what they want when they want and they wants it all the time

Thumpasorus Peoples:
Prehistoric ancestors of Star Child and Dr. Funkenstein; also hardcore funkateers

Woo:
Temptation without representation for purposes of pimpation

Zone of Zero Funkativity (better known as The Nose Zone):
Home to Sir Nose; region of snoozation



Now many would dismiss this as sheer jibberjabber, and, they might be right, but at least its more helpful than the definition of Funk in the Uncyclopedia.

I hope this news Funks up your day

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Breakin' In My Winklepicker Blues

I got blisters on my heel 'cause I got winklepickers on my feet
Yeah I got blisters on my heel 'cause I got winklepickers on my feet (Wooo!),
But they're so fine, black and pointy,
In job interviews they'll go down a treat!

I have long been a fan of the winklepicker as my footweatr of choice, problem is they are damn hard to find, expensive to buy and constly to maintain. The inspiration comes from characters such as Nick Cave, Tom Waits and Iggy Pop and I strenly deny any goth connitations assiated with the shoes.

I bought my first pair in 2004 from Pennangalan Dreams, a fine shoe but in constant need of glue, heels and buckle repair. I paid all this due to my might attatchment to them, I must have spent far more maintaining them then they actually cost to buy, but they met thier end by the end of the year. While living in Germany they came for a night out on The Reeperbahn, it was wet, and the soles simply snapped, tearing the leather, soaking my foot. It was late in the night / early in the morning and it was the final staw, perhaps having had one Jagermeister too many the shoes where removed and thrown (By a friend) under a train. I had some great photos of those winklepickers, but like any break up I think I found them too painful to keep hold of and they've gone. However, heres a stock image of what they looked like:


My new winklepickers came to my attention through the Beatle Wear Website, the store of which is suprisngly, in Liverpool. I knew it wouldn't be cheap, £85 and then tax, but I justified the expense by convincing myself they'd help me get a job ("As what?" you may ask) and in order to overcome the guilt I went to give blood. The shop is in itself very interesting, as its owner, Mark Astbury designs and makes all its gear himself. I briefly played the part of winklpicker consultant as he asked me if I though electric blue or firebox red winklepickers would be a hit. I though he was mad, nobody would want them. But I have since found these alarming images on the 'net (Not for hose with senstive eyes):

He went on to tell me how he was rather popular with musicians, and that last year he had Blondie come in the check out his wears. He also asked me if I had a "frock jacket" as he made them to measure and to suit my long frame. I had said no till he pointed out that they where simply a long blazer, at which point I remember I had one and that it was at the taylors (And here he was trying to steal said taylors trade). Mine is however ill fitting and made from a polyester / wool blend, so as soon as I have money (£250 of it) it may face the chop...

But now I know you're all keen to see these £90 winklepickers, black leather, high cuban heel and none of that centre seem rubbish.

I must admit they're a damn fine shoe, but they're sure are murderous bastards when it comes to braeking them in, as the back of my heel will attest to, and it makes even the short walk to Allerton a nightmare. I will perserver however, till these shoes are under control. My grandad said one of his first jobs was breaking i shoes for people, a service sadly lacking today as I coukld do with said service, but maybe I can exploit this hole and start my own own business (Someone else will do all the foot work of course).

So now me and my winklepickers start what I hope will be a long, prosperous relationship, of being tall, pointy and in my opinion, rather stylish. Otherwise, Mr. Mark Astbury will have a lot to ansewr for...



P.S. While writting this article I found that the exact same shoe I bought at Beatle Wear for£95 is avaliable on Pennangalan Dreams for £70 under the name Cuban Chelsea Boot. D'oh!

And Bully's Special Prize!!!

The Wednesday gone I had the pleasure of taking a trip back in time to Sunday afternoons past, and this time travel magic was all thanks to taking part in the audience for the newly revise Bullseye.

Back in the days before Sunday afternoon became characterized by The Simpsons at 6:00 PM Bullseye was king of the TV, it had to be seen, which is somewhat odd when I think I would of been around nine years old and the highlight of the week would include Jim Bowen.

Jim has now sadly moved on, against his will, to be replaced with Phoenix Nights star Dave Spikey who rises to the task well, even if his attention is on filming meaning we have to endure the horror that is a warm up act. I never knew TV shows had live acts, and this one spent his time telling us how he had been fired from The National Lottery and from Trisha while we never sure if this was a joke or if he was serious. He made his routine worse by encouraging pantomime like clapping and constantly popping us to "entertain" us while sets where being adjusted. The whole incident kept us all rather luke warm.


This was my first time in a TV audience and the warm up act wasn't the only surprise in store that night. TV studios now have as much security as airports post 9/11. One of their concerns is people recording shows, but just what having access to bootlegs of Bullseye would achieve is beyond me, so maybe they where more concerned about over enthusiastic fans bringing their own darts. The whole think was akin to flying on a budget air line as after the metal detector came the battle for your unreserved seat, lots of pushing and shoving despite all being guaranteed a seat. Maybe people wanted their faces on TV, but I think producers have more of say in that an no surprise, my posse ended up on the back row, where my black atire upon black background will make me resemble a disembodied floating head.

I should also point out that Bullseye isn't returning to terrestrial TV just yet, it'll now be on nobodies favourite channel, Challenge TV. This brings me onto the second major change in the series. Remember all those great prizes? Cars? Caravans? Oh, here's what you coulda won, a speedboat!? Well, it's gone, prizes have taken a dive. Instead iiiin seven! (They still have the great Tony Green) we have a trouser press!! or perhaps an electric salt and pepper mill!! Of course, they still has some great prizes, camcorders and the like, but you know, without Bully's Special Prize being something grand the magic is gone (It was a three piece suite very similar to one we just threw out, incidentally).


The highlight of the night was however the charity throw, where a professional darts celebrity gets six darts (Get over 100 and we'll double it) and the winning team picks a charity who receive the donation. First up was Stockports Mr. Ska-man, Darryl "The Dazzler" Fitton, who declined Spikeys invite to show off his dance moves regularly displayed as he approaches the ocke.



We where there for the recording of two shows and it also happened to be the end of the season, so what better way to celebrate than by getting the most important man in darts to come over and receive a true insight into the world of British darts. It could only be Jelle "The Matador" Klaasen, current BDO World Champion! An honor to see the sports brightest, and slimmest, star doing what he does best. Got the evenings only 180 while warming up don't you know...


It made a memorable night, the pleasure of darts, pantomime and comedy all rolled into one. As if that wasn't enough the ticket where free! Still, I don't expect my face to be appearing on any TV sets any time soon, but at least I was there (And know the answers to all the questions).



Want to hire Jim Bowen for a party? Plenty of cash to spare? Book him here!

Monday, April 03, 2006

Phobias

Ever since the commuters companion Metro had an article about a woman who had a phobia of peas many publications have been printing lists of the phobias afflicting thier readers. BBC Magazine just printed a new list, my favourite being a phobia of the letter y;


"M phobia is all about the letter . Ever time I tr to press it on the
ke board, it makes me want to cr . I know it seems sill to ever one
else, but it all started when I was a bab , and I swallowed a magnetic
letter. At least that's what My mumm and dadd told me an wa ."


The best phobia I ever encountered was of Malteasers, a malady sufferd by a girlfriend of mine early this mellenium. Now I know we shouldn't make fun of and exploit such conditions, but it provided endless hours of amusment after we broke up, and now they're my favourite chocloate.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Rollins Remains The Same

Last Monday I went to Henry Rollins deliver his stand up rountine for the, ooh.. fourth times (Could have been five if I'd of caught him in Liverpool). He was back down to The Academy, like the first time I saw him, after graduating first to the Royal Manchester Opera House, then to the largest stage in the North of England, The Lowry, where the act bombed. So, now he's back where he belongs for another sold out show.

Henry Rollins delivers the kind of show you would expect, although slightly lacking in Rock 'n' Roll stories compared to previous outings. The main focus of his concerns now is George W. Bush and although the man deserves some stick he's hardly original comedy or a hard target to take down a peg. Every American comic now has a large part of their set dedicated to saying how they didn't vote Bush and that he man is an idiot. I however disagree, I don't think he's an idiot, I just think he's in the wrong job. Rollins gave great examples of how Bush mangles the Englsih language and gives almost totally unrelated answers, but who amongst us has never done that? And how many of those people consider themselves idiots? While far from the brightest or most articulate person I frequently jumble my words, but I'm a long shot from being an idiot, just a tad dyslexic. And while I believe I can make great acomplishments I know my limits, which includ running giant oil companies and becoming Leader of the Free World. George has just tried to floow and outdo his father accomplishment, someone wanted a puppet in The Whitehouse and this way they both win, and if cocks up, Bush takes the fall. Who would turn down a chance to be President when people all alround you tell you you're perfect for the position? I left the show with some smypathy for the man, which I'm sure wasn't intended.

Anyway, back to the show. Some great stories about his antics on the Trans-Siberian Express, the need for a black woman President (And how great a band name it would make) and his part in The Big Day Out. Without a story about The Ramones or The Clash however, it just ain't the same. I only went this show that my kid brother did gain the advantage of having seen more Rollins shows than me (Its a good concept , it keeps me from getting complacent) and while it wasn't his best show, it was certainly better than then he played The Lowry, I think it was being back in a more down to earth environment.

He also came out with one great point I shall remember for a long time:

"Don't hate or not visit America, after all, its where Devo,
The Ramones and P-Funk come from"

Who could disagree?

I'd also recommend check out Henry Rollins on-line journal, Dispatches, the most updated web rescouce ran by an aging alterntive icon that there is. I've found it shockingly addictive, but then, it has let me find out that a new Rollins Band tour is on the way in August, huzza!

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