Rubbish, piffle, tommyrot, drivel and utter bilge

Monday, April 2, 2018

Into The Unknown 89

Well, here it is folks, episode number 89 in the series, and a right groovy wing-ding it is to boot.

Winchester - Throw It Down

Penny - Misery Guts

Andy Stott - Faith In Strangers 2014

Baba Sonya - Bones

Belial Pelegrim - The Code Of Human Affections

Birthday - Weekend Walking

Custom Built - Trust In Me (The Fat Pockets RMX)

DintySlop - Gore Sweetie

Dubree - Kinetika

jerkcurb - Voodoo Saloon

Morning Smoke - How Does It Feel

Olga Bell - Randomness

Puro Instinct - Tell Me

Splashh - Rings

Poggy - Beautiful Woman (remix by Ollie Seager)

Theatre Of Hate - Do You Believe In The Westworld?

The Funk Hunters & Chali 2na - Oh Shit (Featurecast Remix)

Local Joke - Illaijah

Lucky+Love - Venus

Šuma - Rano Rano

Max Vernon - I Kissed A Girl

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Into The Unknown 88

At long last a new edition of Into The Unknown!  Here's a complete track list with all the usual info. Enjoy!

Lucky+Love - Full Moon

drunkeninstrumentcorp. - I Love Your Eyes

Keep Shelly In Athens - Leave In Silence

Ummagma - Winter Tale (A.R.Kane Mix 69 Style)

American Anymen - Late To The Party

The Blue Hour - Kyoto Song (The Cure)

A Shoreline Dream - Whirlwind

Hologram Teen - Magique Afrique

302 Acid - Quest and the Future Beyond

Bulgarian State Television Female Choir - Erghan Diadoère_des_Voix_Bulgares

Lyla Foy - Right to Be

Avante Black - Imaginary Love

Nick Vivid - Slicey

Bruno Merz - Whisper Turn

Jason Herring & The Mystery Plan - Oola Heatray

The Logical Hairs - Clare Grogan Is The Real Kochanski

Šuma - Magic Forest

Kid Creole & The Coconuts feat. Coati Mundi - Me No Pop I

Kyuss -  Space Cadet [MissingNo. Rmx] [Instrumental]

Cassettes Won't Listen - Hello To Vernon

23 Skidoo - Coup

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

The Lesson

Back in the 80s,  whilst unemployed,  my friend Nigel and I would hang out at my house and when there was nothing else on the telly , we often resorted to watching the programmes for schools and colleges,  which were shown early in the morning before breakfast TV came along.  After the advent of Breakfast Time and TV-am, BBC 2 would show schools programmes all morning until lunchtime and sometimes beyond.  Occasionally there were gems among the dross.

One day a show about English came on featuring the musician and poet Roger McGough. He read out a poem about school which Nigel and myself found hysterically funny.  We didn't know what the title was, but we never forgot the line about the headmaster looking in on a riotous classroom who then 'nodded understandingly, and tossed in a grenade.'

Well, now we live in the digital age,  and so this morning it took me all of 45 seconds to find it, and here it is.  However,  in light of recent events in the world,  it may be considered by some to be in poor taste, but whatever.  I have told you the back story,  I am committed now. It's called "The Lesson".

Chaos ruled OK in the classroom
as bravely the teacher walked in
the nooligans ignored him
his voice was lost in the din

'The theme for today is violence
and homework will be set
I'm going to teach you a lesson
one that you'll never forget'

He picked on a boy who was shouting
and throttled him then and there
then garrotted the girl behind him
(the one with grotty hair)

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
between the chattering rows
'First come, first severed' he declared
'fingers, feet or toes'

He threw the sword at a latecomer
it struck with deadly aim
then pulling out a shotgun
he continued with his game

The first blast cleared the backrow
(where those who skive hang out)
they collapsed like rubber dinghies
when the plug's pulled out

'Please may I leave the room sir? '
a trembling vandal enquired
'Of course you may' said teacher
put the gun to his temple and fired

The Head popped a head round the doorway
to see why a din was being made
nodded understandingly
then tossed in a grenade

And when the ammo was well spent
with blood on every chair
Silence shuffled forward
with its hands up in the air

The teacher surveyed the carnage
the dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
'Now let that be a lesson' he said
by Roger McGough

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

I'm On Mixcloud

Just a quick note to let you lovely people that you can listen to all of my podcasts to date in one place. They're now all available to stream or download at


P.S. There'll be a new episode in the next few days!

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Start Listening

You know that feeling?

When you've had a few days off work and consequently didn't bother setting your normal 'early' alarm.

You're lying there under the covers, half asleep and your body clock is saying to your brain, "it's time to get up. It is. I just know it is."

And your brain gets all logical and says, "Naah, can't be. Haven't heard the alarm yet."

And your body clock says, "But it's too bright in this room for it NOT to be time to get up. Trust me on this."

And your brain says, "but this bed is sooo comfy and the alarm still hasn't gone off. So why don't you quit your belly-achin' and leave us be, here in this nice comfy bed. We'll wait for the alarm, thank you."

"But," continues the body clock, "I've had years of experience on this very topic and I know damn well when we're supposed to get up. I'm telling you we are gonna be late if we don't get up right this second."

"Hush," says brain, "the alarm hasn't gone off yet, has it, smart guy? We're fine, let's just snooze."

"But, " says body clock, "what if you forgot to set the alarm, eh?"

You sit bolt upright. Grab the phone. Look at the time.

6:44 am.

Hurriedly jump out of bed and put clothes on. "Shitshitshitfuckshitshitshiiiit!"

Body clock says, "When will you ever start listening to me?"


Thursday, July 27, 2017

Health & Safety Gone Mad

The other day I was doing one of my least favourite chores around the house - mowing the lawn. I say it my least favourite because (a) I feel that lawns are a waste of space - I'd rather see a garden filled with flower beds and veggies growing, although I do understand that if you have kids, lawns are pretty essential so they can play footy or frisbee or whatever - and (b) we have a long garden with a lot of lawn, although the garden has obviously been previously used for flower beds and veggie patches and is consequently lumpy and bumpy and made up of at least 15 different types of grass.

As I stopped to empty the grass catcher on the back of the mower, I noticed the little safety symbols on the protective back flap. I'd noticed them before, of course, but I'd never really paid much attention to them.

What I saw disturbed me.

I don't know what all of these symbols are trying to say, but I shall attempt to translate for you.









As you can see, these are true pearls of essential wisdom without which any person engaged in lawnmowing would be lost indeed.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Get Over Yourselves

Now, I realise that it's been a while since anything was last posted on this here blog (around Crimble time, in fact), and for that I apologise. It's not that I haven't had anything on my mind, you understand, it's just that (a) a lot of other people have said the same things that I wanted to say, so I'd just be adding to the noise; (b) I've been busy with my podcast and The Unbelievables, not to mention life, work and all the other stuff that comes with being an adult.

But this week (actually since Sunday), I find myself unable to hold my tongue, as it were.

Jodie Whittaker, the 13th Doctor.

I've always enjoyed the television show Doctor Who, ever since I was a young boy. I started  to watch it during the Pertwee era and continued to do so more or less up until it ended (or so we thought) with Sylvester McCoy (an actor whose work I had admired since his days on Vision On, Tiswas and Jigsaw). I knew people who were uber-fans or Whovians as they are usually called, and was aware that their fandom wasn't just a like of Who; it was borderline obsessive. So I knew that although I liked and enjoyed watching the show, to me that's just what it was: a show. One that I happened to like quite a bit.

In 1991 I moved to the USA. Even as I write this, many years later, it seems almost unimaginable to me that the person that experienced all of the experiences I did in the USA was actually ME. It just seems like some sort of long, convoluted crazy movie that had a bittersweet ending. I can't imagine myself embarking on an 18-year voyage of that magnitude now, even though I know full well I already did it once. But I digress.

I was unaware of the resurrection of the Doctor Who series until around 2004, when I was flicking through the channels on my cable system and a programme on BBC America called Torchwood caught my eye. Of course, once I started watching, it became apparent that it was linked to Who, and in fact the title is itself an anagram of Doctor Who.

When I came back in 2010 and realised that not only was Doctor Who alive and well but that I'd already missed Doctors 8 and 9 (Paul McGann and Christopher Eccleston respectively) and we were now on Doctor number 10, played by David Tennant. I watched a few of the episodes and I liked them, though stepping straight into this new format when the last I'd seen was a McCoy episode was a bit of a shock - in the old days, a story was presented in several weekly serial-type half-hour segments, a bit like watching Flash Gordon or  The Lone Ranger in weekly instalments at the pictures - now, the episodes are 40 to 50 minutes long and a single story is started and finished in the same episode or is stretched over maybe two or occasionally three.

Now we have been for the past few months embroiled in speculation as to who the new Doctor would be, since it was announced last year that Doctor number 12 Peter Capaldi would be leaving (or regenerating) in the 2017 Christmas episode.

Many names were mooted, Tom Ellis, Tom Hiddleston, Idris Elba, Kris Marshall, all of whom I could imagine doing a sterling turn as the Doctor. There were rumblings afoot that they might be choosing a female Doctor, and a few names popped up there too - Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Helen Mirren...

Indeed the storylines seemed to suggest a change was in the offing. The appearance of the character Missy (Michelle Gomez), later to be revealed as The Mistress, a regeneration of The Master in a female body, gave credence to the suggestion that Time Lords can be 'gender-fluid', if you will.

So it was no surprise to me when it was announced on Sunday just after Roger Federer's world-beating 8th Wimbledon title that the new Doctor will indeed be portrayed by a woman, Broadchurch's Jodie Whittaker. I'm sure she'll do great in the role.

But here's what gets me.

Over the years, the uberfans, the Whovians, have become more and more vocal in their opinions. At first they just liked to discuss their favourite episodes, dress up as Daleks and Cybermen  or Tom Baker. Now they critique the writing and the storylines, harshly criticising showrunner Steven Moffat and coming in their pants at the mention of the name Russell T. Davies.

"Oh the Davies era was SO much better! Moffat is an idiot! Bring back Terry Nation! etc.etc."

And of course, this being 2017, they've all got laptops and internet access so they feel it is beholden unto them to foist their opinions about every little obscure piece of  Who trivia on us, the humble public, by way of YouTube. I'm serious. You go to YouTube and watch an episode or a clip of Dr. Who and you'll get suggestions of related videos, most of which will consist of some Whovian (usually a fat American dude with a bad beard and strange hat) ranting about how they'll be so glad when Steven Moffat  leaves.

And yes, most of these overly vocal nob-ends are American. I'm sorry, I'm fine with American people watching Dr. Who, but not sorry, you weren't there first time around and you have not got the slightest idea what you're ranting about.

Anyway - back to what my main point was, it's now been revealed that the Doctor will regenerate in the Christmas episode and become a woman. And the goddamn Twitterverse is up in arms about it.

According to today's papers, a lot of male Whovians have taken to social media to vent their ire about the BBC putting a woman in a male role.

One dull person wrote: "The Doctor is a Time LORD. Repeat, Time LORD. Not Time LADY."

To that particular idiot I say: "Doctor Who is FICTIONAL, repeat FICTIONAL. Not REAL."

Another plonker tweeted to the effect that they wouldn't watch it with a female lead. To them I say - fine, who needs so-called 'fans' like you?

To say that I am more and more these days perplexed that in 2017 we still have sexism (and racism) is an understatement. I remember the '80s, when we had Boy George and Marilyn, AIDS and Live Aid, and we thought people were finally waking up and smelling the coffee. But apparently, when it comes to geekery, it's still a boy's club. Think about the backlash against the Wonder Woman movie. Or Elektra. Or the all-female reboot of Ghostbusters, which, let's face it, was pretty funny.

Let me put it this way. If you're OK with a 2000-year old alien flying round the Universe in a blue box, why does it matter what gender they are? Here's the thing: I've never seen the Doctor go the loo, and he rarely eats anything onscreen - who knows if he even HAS genitalia? He's an alien, after all.

One person tweeted to the effect that they didn't want to see a load of bras lying about the TARDIS. Because what, there are Jockey shorts and undershirts strewn about the place now?

Maybe it's the idea of a WOMAN saving the Universe rather than a guy that these people cannot handle. Ah, now. We've hit the nail on the head, haven't we, in these Trumpesque times? Perhaps that's why Trump ran for President. Not because of Hillary's policies, but he just didn't want to see bras and panties slung over the back of the sofas in the Oval Office.

Let's let you see what's going down, courtesy of BossLevel8.

Good luck, Jodie. As a lifelong Doctor Who fan, I say, you're gonna do great.
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