Monday, June 26, 2006


Right, I'm back. Miss me then? Bloody liars. Christ on a Kawasaki Ninja, I'm knackered - think I'll need another month off blogging to recuperate. Anyway, updates - the World Cup was incredible, better than any gig or event I've been to, full truth and possibly lurid pics soon. Russia, hmm, well unfortunately events (including vodka-induced physical injuries) have made that one a bit of a pisser to scrawl about, so I won't. Suffice to say, I did get a Russian hat and a Soviet hipflask out of it, though the whole thing culminated in me and this chick ripping a hotel room in Victoria to pieces, a week after we got back (which, poignantly I guess, constituted the final let's go fucking mental moment of my 20s). That's what Russia does to you, turns you into a beast.

Meanwhile, Ian Gardner from the CUNT band Beyond the CUNT Implode has been CUNT kicking up a stink because of the last post. Now, far be it from me to antagonise this humourless OAP any further, but I doubt there's a jury in the land that'd convict me for suggesting that Beyond the Implode's music is the kind of poorly produced, miserable muck that a demented paedophile living with his grandmother would listen to on a wet Wednesday afternoon. Regardless, I haven't seen Sam Fox acting like a whining spastic cos I once called her a bible-bashing class traitor, and I didn't even use her name in homage! If she can restrain herself, so can you, Gardner. In far more cringeworthy fashion, Mike Smunk at Cinestatic's now right behind Ian (about 10 yards), ranting about me 'adding insult to injury' by calling the band ' a bad name' - oh, the shame, the SHAME,got me bang to rights!. Clearly another seething volcano of discontent, just cos I didn't fancy his noncey comments boxes six months ago. Anyway, I don't believe either of these cretins has sufficient proof that I didn't come up with the name 'Beyond the Implode' in 1977, aged 1, so if anything, the band most likely ripped it off me, and can therefore expect to hear from my lawyers in the next couple of weeks unless they withdraw their poxy 'myspace' profile. Lick wood!

Right, I'm 30. This officially means a) no more copy about goth girls - fancying them when you're in your 30s is PATHETIC - fancying girls in white furry Russian military hats is OK though b) I'm spending my dosh on a motorbike instead of CDs and music rubbish - why listen to someone making a noise when you can be speeding around country lanes and engulfing someone's convertible in exhaust fumes? Yes, I'm meeting middle age head on, no whinnying or trying to prolong the youth I've already squandered. To this end I am painting and decorating my flat - and will also be growing A MOUSTACHE!


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