Tuesday, April 27, 2004

well, well, well....

That's the comments sorted, then.
Thanks to Mindfield for his helpful remarks, and thanks to me for comparing the differences in my html and his.
That's what being a programmer does for you. Right, I'm off to bed, now. Early night, because I'm ill....

in the land of mucus and hacking

Still Ill, as the Mancunian poet said a few years back. Although not necessarily describing coughing up yet another bucket of phlegm. Mmmmm, this makes lovely reading doesn't it?
Music: Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" (if only....), The Pixies, "Surfer Rosa" and Tom Waits' "Mule Variations". If any of them have miraculous healing properties, I'll let you know....

Taste the Zeitgeist, and try not to retch...

And from being physically ill, to events that make you feel sick.
Consider the contrast. Last week, Mordechai Vanunu was released from prison, after being locked up for 18 years for telling the truth (always worth remembering Winston Churchill's thoughts on the truth: "In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies." And not just in wartime, eh, Winnie?). Welcome out, Mr V., even though you're not allowed to talk to me, at pain of being re-imprisoned. Still an improvement on solitary confinement, I shouldn't wonder. Now ponder the following: This week, it was announced that 10,000 people have signed up to test the new biometric ID card scheme, that the government is fast-tracking into existence. Presumably to stifle debate. So these 10,000 fuck-wits have signed up to build their own prison, and mine too. And what's going to live on these cards? DNA records? Probably. Medical records? So much for Hippocrates. Pah. Old thinking anyway. But it'll stop terrorists. Yes, of course, because terrorists are all law-abiding citizens, and will of course carry genuine cards....erm, hang on - isn't there something wrong with that argument? No, probably just me, then.
And it'll stop illegal immigrants. Apparently. Or maybe it'll just drive them further underground, into more crime, and be the biggest boost the black-market could have.
But if I don't carry one, I have no right to benefits and won't be able to use the NHS. And will be left to the tender mercies of Big Ron Atkinson, Rebekah Wade and the White-Robed, burning cross hoards of the Daily Mail. A rock and a hard place, eh? Is there no one I can vote for who'll oppose this insanity? One further thought - the words of V.I.Lenin - "Liberty is precious, so precious it must be rationed" Who'd have thought that damn commie's philosophies would be driving one of the most right-wing governments in years?
More thoughts on terrorism later, and the Orwellian double-think required to get around the concept of fighting for Freedom in Iraq, whilst simultaneously removing it at home. Joined up government? Or just not really fighting for Freedom abroad. Nah, they wouldn't lie to us....

drifting into the arena of the unwell

Today, I am ill.
Not sick, bitter and twisted as usual. But ill.
Virulent micro-organisms play havoc with my body. Hayfever, that bastard pollen. As a friend put it. "Being sexually assaulted by plants".
However, I struggle on. Without moaning. Apart from here, and no one reads this shite, of course.
Still, mustn't grumble, he said, his upper-lip stiffening by the moment. Which sounds almost rude, out of context. Remember, I am English - not just english, but English, and am therefore culturally, and biologically, incapable of being rude.
Just one of those things we have to live with, I suppose.

Monday, April 26, 2004

the downward spiral

Went walking yesterday, following the path, more or less, of the River Westbourne, one of London's several underground rivers. Unfortunately, most of the people who were supposed to join me pulled out, and, with just the one companion, what was meant to be a pleasant and historically/geographically interesting jaunt in the good weather turned into a glorified pub-crawl. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what we originally had in mind. Went to Brick Lane for a curry, though.
Hungover, again. Anyone spot a theme?

Saturday, April 24, 2004


The sun is shining, it's the finest day of the year so far.
Why am I sat inside? Lunacy, stupidity and latent vampirism are all probable causes.

It would appear we are fooling no one

So what's happening, then? The big question (or rather Big question, since it deserves the attention) on everyone's mind.
Quite. No one really knows. On with the show.
Saw Wizz Jones last night doing his thing on his 65th birthday celebration. Phenomenal guitarist, did a marvellous version of Woody Guthries's Deportees with that Ralph McTell chap (a less phenomenal guitarist, but the song was superb).
Other music: Another Side of Bob Dylan.

Friday, April 23, 2004

On the cliffs of your wildcat charms I'm ridin'

Hungover, again. As usual. But Rivaldo looks set to sign for Wanderers - how good is that? Rivaldo, playing in the same midfield as Jay Jay Okocha, for Bolton.
Anyway, I digress. From whatever my original point was. I feel I should rant about something. I'm in that sort of mood. And not just why I can't get the damn comment feature to work.
I read the Guardian. A passable newspaper, with a few good bits, even if it does sometimes adopt that wishy-washy liberal anti-rationalism. But why the fuck do they employ Anne Widecombe to write a problems page? Presumably someone thought it was funny - "Oh, ha, ha, Anne Widecombe helping people - very post-modern, Tarquin, now let's go and eat some rocket drizzled with balsamic". It's grim up north london, you Islington wankers. Anne Widecombe not merely can't write, she is deeply stupid and has nothing at all to say of any interest to anyone. Less even than me. Writing this shite. But she gets paid for it (whilst I still haven't had my six-figure book deal - what's taking so long?) Pah.
And I'll come on to Richard Littlejohn soon. An unfortunate turn of phrase perhaps. Is he really gay? Or just curious. In a way, I hope he's gay, since it shatters the stereotype of all gay blokes being athletic and good-looking. But the thought of him squealing like a pig whilst Gary Bushell.... no, it just doesn't bear thinking about. Euuurghhhhh....
Current music: Cat Power, "You are free". And she is a singer, not a political movement. Unfortunately...

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Where pain meets pleasure and pleasure meets the Holy Ghost

Hungover. Need to get ready for work. These are bad things. But still - saw the fantastically talented and really incredibly lovely Rosalie Deighton doing a gig last night at the 12-Bar. She was, as always, very good indeed. An amazing singer with some great songs and a highly entertaining line in banter with her band and the crowd. Just a shame she never seems to play "Ace of Spades" - I feel it should be obligatory for acoustic singer-songwriter types. Either that, or something by Hawkwind.
Ah, fuck it, I'm too tired to type much more. No one reads this shit anyway.
I'll fix the comment facility some time soon, as well.
And Big Ron Atkinson seems to have been sacked from ITV, or possibly resigned, after racially abusing Chelsea's Marcel Desailly. What a twat. Atkinson, that is. I always thought he was just a harmless old fuckwit, who's views were stupid but amusingly banal - he never struck me as a bigot. Which, I just suppose goes to show you never can tell. Or something. Give him the Chelsea job, eh?
Current (ie. yesterday's) music: Apart from Rosalie, T90:Blade of the Sun, Bajina - "Live in Hamburg" and Wayne Kramer, "Adult World". mmmmmm, nice....
Incidentally, just spellchecked this, and it suggested "buckwheat" for fuckwit. Which, I suppose, is good....

Monday, April 19, 2004

School of old men and firm handshakes

Today I have been mostly drinking beer. Which, I suppose, is not unusual, in and of itself. Hardly worth noting, really.
Some worries though. It does seem to me that our elected Prime Minister is congenitally incapable of telling the truth. Why is this? If he were strapped down to a chair and asked "Is your name Mr Tony Blair?" Would he deny it? If he finally confessed, would his head explode, owing to the effort of expressing verisimilitude? These are important questions. I ask because he, and his "dittoheads" (to borrow the preferred name of another group of mindless acolytes of a right-wing nutter who has difficulties with the truth) seem to be very fond of telling people something along the lines of "The choice isn't between the Labour party now and the Labour party of your dreams, it's between a Tory government lead by Michael Howard and a Tory government lead by Mr Tony Blair". Or words to that effect, anyway. Which neglects to mention all the other parties you could vote for in an election. The Liberals, the Greens, not to mention whatever half-arsed Trots are running - all worth a vote more than the current government.
This is democracy, or so we're lead to believe. We can vote for who we like. At least until that nice Mr Blair bans it.
Today's music: The Pixies - "Bossanova" and "Trompe Le Monde" (yes, I've got a ticket for the Brixton Academy. Ha!), Dylan's John Wesley Harding and Jeff Lewis' "It's the one's who've cracked that the light shines through".
Hmmm. And my comment feature seems to not work. I'll look into that.

Sunday, April 18, 2004

Look. Added comments. So now the no people who read this shite can tell me I'm a dick. Or whatever.
Marvellous, isn't it, technology. I'm sure this is just what Alan Turing had in mind.
Incidentally, I'm only doing this for the money. I'm after a "Belle-de-Jour" style 6-figure book deal. Come on, give me one (as the actress said to the bishop, fnarr, fnarr, etc...)
Well, hello there.
Do I have anything interesting to say? Probably not. But then that doesn't stop
anyone else, does it?
History will be my judge. History and the chap in the wig, who I'm in front of next week, for nicking those video recorders. But that's another story. For another time.
Meanwhile, let's consider today's immoral dilemma. A large section of the bigoted right-wing press, and their friends in the extreme right of British politics, have a problem with asylum seekers. Yet suggest that Gibraltar should be returned to Spain, and apoplexy results. Why? On the one hand we have a group of people who have suffered in extremis, and who desperately want to be British. On the other, we have a bunch of people who don't want to pay taxes here, and who don't like our weather, who'd rather live in southern Europe. Fine - that's up to them, but it doesn't make them British, does it?
Current music: Dylan's "Live 1964", Katy Carr's "Passion Play" and "The Darker Side of Art" by the impressive Space Mirrors.
More soon.