Go wipe yourself.

This can’t be a Monday can it? I found myself humming a cheery tune in the kitchen at work whilst making the first cup of coffee of the day. For some reason spirits are high.

The new edition of the The Pomo Show is out and about, featuring incidental music by our good selves. Go and have a look at it, there is a particularly amusing film involving ninjas.

I would like to take this opportunity to draw your attention to the upcoming gigs on the left of the screen. As you will observe we have a gig on Saturday the 12th of August in the Uplands Tavern. Why not come along and see us in the flesh? As promised we fully intend to have two new songs for you which are called Jaw and All my life I give you nothing and you want more. You’ll be able to work out which one is which.

Further down you will see that Rhys Hughes is having a book launch in September, which I strongly advise you to attend with enough spare cash to buy a copy of the magnificent “At the Molehills of Madness.” I think it costs £6.99, but I’m sure he will tell me if it is not, then I can tell you. Then we will all know.

On Friday Morriston Burns turned up with a bag of produce which we turned into a truly magical vegetable curry. Then we drank some beer, jangled the spong cloud with our peachy lung pockets and fell asleep in front of a film. Civilised, see. Thus began the loosely wound stumbling about that made up the rest of my weekend. I felt like the Dude. Must grow a beard and get a bowling ball. I’m partial to a White Russian as well as a matter of fact. Or were they Black Russians? Someone will tell me I’m sure.

Market Traders reject calls from Union to “Geechur urp, fow de poe bu!”