New Year at you.
Last year we did some very interesting stuff and made a lot of music. By the end I was pretty knackered so it was nice to have a rest, although I am itching to resume the music making in earnest now and play some gigs. We will have to wait until February before we can do anything because I am off to Denmark to collect the Wandering Dane and won’t be back until the 2nd of February, which is a shade frustrating. Frustrating that I am going on holiday for two weeks? Like hell it is. I need topping up with Tuborg and herrings before my bearings seize up.
There’s a lot going on this year; we’re on track to move to Liverpool and the Sereia de Curitiba show will be taking off in May. Thank goodness I have a calendar otherwise I would not know whether I was comina-coming or goina-going. I also have a nice diary which I may well have to use this year. Blimey. Somewhere along the line it would be nice to make a new CD as well. Not sure how the home recording thing is going to progress at the moment, but I do know a very nice man who is going to let us use his new basement recording studio to do the music for the Sereia de Curitiba project, so maybe we can do some there. I have new songs and efferyfink.
For the world at large 2006 was a year where thousands, if not millions, got murdered in the fallout from the machinations of devils and demons, or well intentioned statesmen, clerics and leaders, depending on your point of view. It would be fanciful to suppose that 2007 will be any different. 2006 was a year that a lot of people realised just how impotent they had become, but few of them cared anymore. I wonder how this will affect us in 2007. I wonder how many more innocent and largely impoverished people are going to lose their lives so a minority of people can accumulate more power and more wealth.
I wonder if Thatcher is going to die now. Maybe she will die of a broken heart now that Pinochet is dead. The fucker. Hope so. Maybe me and Elvis Costello will go and dance on her grave. If she gets a state funeral I am going to spend the rest of the year screaming.
In other news: there was a special offer on some Celebrity Bread in the supermarket the other day. I purchased some because there was little else. It is indeed celebrity bread in every way; just like normal bread but with better wrapping and an air of indefinable luxury which, on examination, is utterly ephemeral. I shall not be buying it again. Celebrity bread, bah.
I think that here would be a good place for the maintenance of an ongoing gag which has surprised me in its popularity. Prolonged! That was most likely the kiss of death for it. Pessimistic!
Here’s a new challenge for you, which, if you are skillful, you can combine with the gag I just mentioned. Advisory! Last year we continued to hear about the erosion of British Culture, Heritage and Way of Life by the foreign menace and the fact that no one is telling Johnny Foreigner to Straighten Up, Fly Right and Play with a Straight Bat. What I could not work out, because I’m obviously a bit slow, is what bits of British Culture they were referring to.
If anyone can think of anything worth saving from the hordes amassing at the gates why not note it down here and I will post it to the God King of Albion, who lives in Norfolk and is married to his sister and has webbed feet. He’ll sort it out. Up Britannia! Up My Country! Up Yours!
17 comments:
Standing in long lines waiting for stuff. Queueing!
Complaining about the weather. Moaning!
Asking how someone is without really needing or wanting to hear the answer. Greeting!
Making food out of grease and dead animal bits that no-one outside of the UK and certain bits of Eastern Europe would consider to be in any way edible. Cooking!?
None of which are particularly worth saving, I grant you, but all are quintessentially British. Vive Le Foreigner! Ich Bein Ein Auslander!
You would think that 'celebrity bread' would at least be stuffed with cocaine or something. Maybe sometime this year we will see a loaf of celebrity bread as a guest on some intensely annoying celebrity reality show; no doubt displaying a damn sight more personality. Boring!
Celebrity Bread... presumably you get a lot of it for doing fuck all?
Well, Mr. Frictionless, I must keep a close watch on your future ¨grave dancing gigs¨ just in case you know something that I don´t know.
I've got a few planned. Mr Frictionless Snr? I do believe that I am the only one, so you must be a fraud. Cease your fraudulance!
Now don't be embarrassed if relatives start posting on your Blog. My mum reads these Blogs and occasionally posts... why do you think I use asterisks like this **** every time I fucking swear?
Oops.
Embarrassment has nothing to do with it, Boozey old boy. By naming himself Mr Frictionless Snr he is implying that I am Mr Frictionless Jnr, which is really very rude and anyone with any manners would not be so presumptuous. So it may well be a family member.
Furthermore, since Mr Frictionless was created by himself how could there be a senior version? This makes no sense! I bet Ziggy Stardust never had to go through this!
One of the things that the Frictionless Man is about is the struggle for independence, autonomy and the right to structure your life as you please. Conceptions of seniority and subordination are utterly incompatible with this ethos and I take a very dim view of it.
By the way Mr Booze, say hello to your Mum for me . I recall she made me a very nice cup of tea once. That was a nice day. Didn’t we play a gig that evening? What was the occasion?
Ahhh cups of tea (mum made or otherwise), a very British institution indeed. Knicked from foreign parts from athritic tea pickers earning a pitance. Marketed by an aging, oxbridge educated, homosexual, comic. added to boiling water and used as a universal cure all. It's the best damn idea ever. Jingoistic.
I'm having one right now. Topical. A cup of tea that is, not an aging, oxbridge educated, homosexual comic. Clarifying.
Well Mr. Frictionless or should I say Señor Pinochet you can´t stop me that easy. I mean fancy trying to censor persons posting items on your blog.
Perish the thought.
I think that the occasion was that my mum came round especially to make you a cup of tea so we played a gig by way of celebrating the beverage.
It was your birthday or something and we all went round to your parents house and Anthony's car got broken into and then we played a gig in the Chattery and got drunk. I recall that it was a good night. I assume I insulted a fair proportion of the people there.
Vindaloo?
Toilets called loos?
Football?
What makes Britain, britain?
Capital letters!
Saving is a great word, terrible concept.
Define the concept: Saving the british way of life, (verb.) ostracise the entire sense of community, from the public, then use the resulting reaction (people desperately grasping at anything that gives themselves a sense of self worth) to deny the idea of world citizenship (and responsability) to justify a war, (or any action for that matter) a person in authority so wishes.
Cultural identity is based on being different.
NOT based on being an individual.
Maybe I'm being stupid, stupid, My new years resolution/mantra: I'm a monkey!
Would you not care for a wee cup o' tea like it were one of your own children father?
No, I've already had a cup.
Aw go on Farther.
No, you're quite alright there.
go on,
go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on.
My second new years resolution is to not press the paste button.
But how are you going to cut and paste "I'm a monkey" enough times to make it come true? These are important considerations.
Milk no sugar thank you.
Post a Comment