The World Of Jeff!

Mike Harding Saved My Life

2012-02-12T22:11:00.001Z

I suppose all of us at one time or another have turned in our darkest moments to something to help us out of our doldrums, our funk or whatever you may call it. Whether it be a song or a TV show or a book or a movie, these things we hold dear in our heads and hearts can make us feel better by simply reminding us that we are alive. Not merely alive, but ourselves.

For me, the little section of my brain that contains these items consists mainly of comedy. Comic songs, poems, monologues and standup routines, from such masters as Stephen Fry, Paul Merton, Ben Elton, Shelley Berman, Richard Jeni, Jeff Foxworthy, and even less well known exponents such as Simon Fanshawe, Kevin Day, Jeremy Hardy, Kit Hollerbach, Kip Adotta, Joe Bolster...

You may recall I told you all the story of when I was jailed for bouncing a check, for six days. When I was released, I was (for reasons that are too complicated and involved) homeless for about eight weeks, and had to live in a Salvation Army shelter, sleeping in a dorm with eight other guys. My days were a vacuum that had to be filled somehow, and I spent the majority of my time using free public computers and reading books in a library. I had no transport and so I walked everywhere, and if you know the city of Gainesville, Georgia, you will be aware that while there are sidewalks in the city centre, they tend to run out when you get to the Lakeshore Mall/Wal-Mart/ area, and you are mostly on the grass verge if you want to get to McD's or the Atlanta Bread Company. The shelter is over on Dorsey St, so it's a good long walk to most places.

During my long walks I utilised these little poems, songs and monologues to keep myself entertained. I used them also when driving anywhere and I still do recite them to myself when walking back from town at night. I'm sure if anyone hears me they think I'm a bit barmy.

Back in the 80s I knew a guy named Paul, who happened to leave behind a cassette, one side of which contained two Goon Shows, the other side a wonderful album by Northern comedian and folkie Mike Harding. I kept that tape and a decade later while living in Georgia I discovered it and put it in my car, listening to it while driving around. In fact, it was in my Toyota Corolla that the tape finally gave up the ghost, I had played it so much. But it didn't matter of course, because the LP was now in my brain. Anytime I wanted to hear it I could, because I knew it so well. The album was Mrs. 'Ardin's Kid, and the poem that I used to recite the most while walking around (and still do) was The Ballad Of Cowheel Lou. And I don't think it is too much of a stretch to say that it was that that maintained my sanity in troubled times. So I just want to say a big thank you to Mike Harding. Mike - you might just have saved my life, mate.

Reproduced below are the words to The Ballad Of Cowheel Lou. Sorry I couldn't find a convenient YouTube vid of it, but if you want to buy the CD it's available from Amazon or from mikeharding.co.uk.

THE BALLAD OF COWHEEL LOU
by
Mike Harding

North Of Oldham South of Diggle, there lies a town called Mumps
Where the tripe mines stand just by the washhouse wall
And in that deserted town where the shacks are tumbling down
You can hear the scabby moggies lonesome call

Years ago this town was booming when the tripe rush days were on
And the miners they rolled in from far and near
In the 'Sweaty Clog' saloon they were supping night and noon
Sarsaparilla, liquorice juice and privet beer.

Now she was a good time dancing gal, any tripe miners pal
For a bottle of Brasso she'd love you all night through
She was rough and she was tough, she wore no vest and took black snuff
And was known to all the lads as Cowheel Lou.

Now Lou had one special man, his name was Dangerous Albert
He sucked Fiery Jack and camphorated oil
He wore barbed wire combinations and slept rough on Oldham station
And Wimpey used his dandruff for hardcore.

Now one stormy night in Mumps when the rain came down in lumps
And the wind blew empty tins off Saddleworth Moor
In the 'Sweaty Clog' saloon the pianola played a tune
And Lou was sewing mudflaps on her drawers.

While a gang of tripe prospectors and a couple of tram inspectors
Were gambling all their pay on snakes and ladders
While a pair of Huddersfield tramps were supping the oil from the lamps
And Albert was trying to kickstart the pianola.

Well, the doors busted open wide and a stranger come inside
It was Spotty Bum McGrew the lame evangelist
He was an hop-along bible thumper, he kept a white rat up his jumper
And in his hand he held a tambourine.

He said " I'm looking for a man as how they call him Dangerous Albert
I've heard as how he's known around this part."
Well the pianola stopped its tune and a hush came on the room
So quiet you could hear a cockroach fart.

Said the stranger, "Me and Al, we were buddies he was my pal
In the salvation army band we both did play
'Til one night we went on booze, he ripped up me shirt and widdled in my shoes
He blew his nose on me vest and smashed me tambourine!"

Then Albert caught his eye and the stranger gave a cry
And leapt upon the bar with a scream of rage
Then Albert gave a shout and whipped his weapon out
And in his hand he held a tambourine

Now tales have been told of what took place that night
The fiercest fight that Mumps has ever seen
How Spotty Bum McGrew and the lover of Cowheel Lou
Fought to the very death, each with their tambourine.

All night long they did do battle and their tambourines did rattle
Spotty Bum's teeth went flying in the grime
They knocked off Albert's hat and hit the landlords cat
And stopped to suck a lemon at half time.

Now the second half got dirty as they were both feeling a bit shirty
Spotty Bum hit Albert with his rubber leg
Cowheel Lou could stand no more, she picked up pianola from floor
Chucked it and killed them both stone dead.

Now north of Oldham south of Diggle, there's a broken hearted gal
Who tends the grave so cold and so bare
For at Clog Hill above the valley where the wind howls night and day
Spotty Bum and dangerous Albert are buried there.

So if you go 'cross Saddleworth Moor where the wind whips up from Diggle
And you think you hear thunder in the east
Its not thunder 'cross those hillocks it's the ghost of those two pillocks
Knocking buggery out of each other with their tambourines.

Hi-de-Hi-de-Hi!!

2012-01-30T21:14:00.001Z

Well, that was pretty fast work, I must say. The sage Ruprecht, he of enormous brain and foresight, was correct when he answered Friday's Puzzler. The question was: which movie featured a cameo by the wonderful Obba Babatunde (below) as a Cab Calloway - styled bandleader?

The answer was The Notebook.
Now, I did not watch the film through choice, but after repeated viewings I grew to like bits of it. Especially the scene with Obba.

Next question: Cab Calloway was no stranger to movies - in which movie did he appear as a character named Curtis?

Puzzler: That Thing You Do!

2012-01-27T22:07:00.000Z

Last time on the Puzzler: Which film contains tunes penned by none other than Tom Hanks?

Easy one for Tom fans - the answer is That Thing You Do!, a mockumentary about an Erie, PA rock combo that scores an accidental hit and rides the fame wave as long as it will allow, with stellar performances from Tom Everett Scott, the sublime Liv Tyler, Steve Zahn, Johnathon Schaech, Ethan Embry, and Tom Hanks his own self, with some lovely cameos by Jonathan Demme, Gedde Watanabe, Rita Wilson, Peter Scolari, Giovanni Ribisi, Chris Isaak, Charlize Theron, Kevin Pollak, Clint Howard, Alex Rocco, Obba Babatunde, Chris Ellis and a brief but wonderful turn by Bryan (Malcolm In the Middle, Breaking Bad) Cranston as astronaut Virgil "Gus" Grissom. I kinda like this movie a little bit. Okay, a lot. Can ya tell?

The Tom Hanks tuneage? He actually wrote three himself, Lovin' You Lots And Lots by The Norm Wooster Singers, and It's Not Far and La Senora De Dos Costas from the score. He also co-wrote Voyage Around The Moon, Mr. Downtown and Hold My Hand, Hold My Heart which appear on the soundtrack CD. Not only that but Spartacus, the drum piece that Guy plays in the studio with Dell Paxton.
Sorry the quality stinks, but I love this scene.

Okay folks - next question!

Obba Babatunde plays a small but pivotal role in That Thing You Do! as doorman/bellhop Lamarr, but in which movie did he play a bandleader bearing a striking resemblance to jazz legend Cab Calloway?

100 Records that Shook the World, #32

2012-01-27T21:03:00.000Z

Born to Run (LP)

Bruce Springsteen

Springsteen's third album Born To Run is widely considered by all and sundry to be his magnum opus. In fact Rolling Stone, a publication that ought to know what it's talking about, ranked the album at number 18 on its 500 Best Albums of All Time list.

Springsteen's breakthrough album, it peaked at number 3 on the Billboard album chart and by the year 2000 had sold six million copies. That's a lot of vinyl.

Springsteen is quoted as saying that he wanted the album to sound like 'Roy Orbison singing Bob Dylan, produced by Phil Spector.' In fact, the album took fourteen months to record due to Springsteen's inability to adequately translate the sounds in his head to band members. The title track itself took six months to finish.

But finish they did, and it was a critical and commercial success, much to Columbia Records' relief.

Enjoy.
Oh, and think you know that drummer? He's Conan O'Brien sidekick and bandleader Max Weinberg.

Copy & Paste

2012-01-01T17:52:00.001Z

Well, after reading my buddy Marissa's post for today, I decided to accept the challenge she threw down. I, too, am suffering a little from the festivities of last evening, fun though they were, and therefore am finding that I can't be arsed. However, this is fun and easy and diverting, so here goes.

Thirty Questions

Thirty questions that require a single word answer. Not as easy as it sounds.

1. Where is your cell phone? Pocket

2. Describe your boyfriend/girlfriend? Lovely

3. Your hair? Curly

4. Your mother? Busy

5. Your father? Aylesford

6. Your favourite item? Phone

7. Your dream last night? Weird

8. Your favourite drink? Java

9. Your dream car? Electric

10. The room you are in? Lounge

11. Your ex? Bizarre

12. Your fear? Forgotten

13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Happy

14. Who did you hang out with last night? Friends

15. What you’re not? Evil

16. The last thing you did? Sat

17. What are you wearing? Jammies

18. Your favourite book? Many

19. The last thing you ate? Turkey

20. Your life? Interesting

21. Your mood? Upbeat

22. Your friends? Cool

23. What are you thinking about right now? Stuff

24. Your car? None

25. What are you doing at the moment? Typing

26. Your summer? Happened

27. What is on your TV? "Bolt"

28. When is the last time you laughed? Today

29. Last time you cried? Dunno

30. School? Over

If you find this in the slightest bit interesting, thanks. If not, happy new year anyway. Like I said, this is just me being lazy. Normal service will be resumed when I feel up to it.

Scads of Ads

2011-12-25T23:15:00.000Z

It's funny, isn't it, when you get an idea for something and you go to execute that idea and the end result turns out to be vastly different from the original intent. This blog post is a case in point. I had intended to make this blog post about the TV ads this Christmas, the good, the bad and the downright stupid. But in researching the ads themselves I discovered something weird. Specifically concerning the John Lewis ad, a particularly fetid piece of homespun schmaltz concerning a 7-year-old boy and his wait for the big day. Here's the offending article:

The problem I have with this commercial, sorry, I mean problems, plural, are that first of all they are using a song by a woman with a weird name (Slow Moving Millie - I mean really!) and that it is a song that happens to fall into a category I have talked about before on the ol' blog - namely, the "Songs That Should Not Be Messed About With Under Any Circumstances". The Smiths' classic 'Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want' reduced to a heartstring-tuggin' anthem to get you to buy your Christmas crap at John Lewis rather than Littlewoods or House of Fraser. My third problem with this commercial is that it's s**t.

But this is where it gets weird. The thick plottens...

That eloquent chef Gordon Ramsay has a wonderful show on UK's Channel 4 called Cookalong Live. Gordon, noted for his wordsmithery, and also his sense of humour that perhaps not everyone appreciates, did a promo for his new series of Cookalong by spoofing this commercial. The Cookalong ad mimics the original, and uses the original Smiths tune as well as the cover. It shows a little boy impatiently waiting for Christmas to come.

But, while the boy in the John Lewis clip stares out of the window wearing 3D glasses and dressed as a shepherd, Ramsay’s lad comically wears crash helmet and is later dressed as a pirate.Both children take a chocolate from an advent calendar, but only the Channel 4 ad shows the little boy grimace at the taste.The adverts both end with the eager youngsters rushing to give their identical, red gift-wrapped presents on Christmas morning.

However, whereas the John Lewis boy wakes his parents up with a smile, the other pyjama-clad kid walks into Gordon’s kitchen and is promptly told: “You’re late. Get peeling.” The unimpressed youngster then smashes the parcel on the floor in protest as the tagline for Gordon’s Christmas Cookalong Live appears.

However, you will not find this video on YouTube. Or so I thought. There's been a lot of legal wrangling going on, with Warner-Chappell Music being the source, apparently. One day it's up, next it's gone, with very little in the way of explanation. Even the C4 website doesn't have it any more. However, the problems seem to have been resolved as a new upload is here. You can always bank on 'Net users to quickly copy things and repost them.

Ramsay wasn't the only chef to get in an ad for Christmas. Sainsbury's spokesperson, the ever-smiling Jamie Oliver, starred in one of the better Christmas ads this year. This is Jamie's last one for Sainsbury's and it's nice, featuring a corker of a track from George Formby.

However I now present to you in no particular order, the craptastic ads for Littlewoods (the Advertising Standards Authority received tons of complaints about it, saying that it was 'killing Santa'), the Boots 'Here Come The Girls' one (it's difficult to believe that the Here Come The Girls refrain doesn't have some sort of Pavlovian effect on half the population these days - its very sound much like the foreshadowing of some horrific catastrophe.Me, I'm inclined towards punching myself in the neck, but voiding of stomachs, noses, bladders and bowels are all well-known side-effects of hearing this tune.There seems to be some sort of Great Escape theme to this, so I'm hoping there's a bonus ad that involves them all being taken out to the woods and shot.), and the Stacey Solomon Iceland crapvert. Enjoy.

So there you have it folks. Christmas ads, the good, the bad, and the Littlewoods.

Transition Town Tenterden Upcoming Events

2011-12-21T11:35:00.001Z

Hi Folks,

Just a quick line to let you all know that the January meeting of T3 will take place on Tuesday, January 24th 2012, at 7pm inside Number 75 restaurant. Hope to see as many of you as possible!

Also please remember that Hike & Bike Wednesday still takes place every Wednesday evening from 5:30 onwards at the White Lion Hotel. Feel free to pop in and join us for a drink and a chat about our upcoming and current projects!

Regards

Jeff

Puzzler: Macca's Star, or Lack Thereof

2011-12-16T22:45:00.000Z

So last time I asked you: Who is the only Beatle NOT to have a start on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame? the answer, somewhat surprisingly, is our old friend Fab Macca Wacky Thumbs Aloft, Sir Paul McCartney. WTF? I hear you cry. But ah, 'tis true.

It's in the works, though. It's actually been planned for quite some time, in fact. It seems his Paulness has been dragging his feet somewhat about setting a date for the dedication ceremony. When it eventually does occur, his will be alongside George's one, Ringo's one, and The Beatles' group stars at 7080 Hollywood Blvd., outside the Capitol Records building. John's is at 1750 Vine St.

In researching this post I came across a lovely photo of Sir Macca at the dedication ceremony of George's star. Here he is in all his Paulness kneeling and polishing George's name.

This is actually an unlikely poignant moment. After the star was unveiled by Olivia and Dhani, Olivia touched the name of George on that star with her right hand, and rubbed her forehead with the ‘dust’ off her late husbands name. That is a Hindu tradition of reference – rubbing the dust off the foot of a revered person (usually a Hindu priest, or a Holy person) on your forehead, as a means of anointing yourself with the dust of a Holy person (or perceived to be Holy).
Dhani did the same thing a moment later, touching the name of his late father on that star.
The next second you could see Paul tapping Olivia on her right shoulder, and he leaned over towards her, seeming to be whispering to her. The next second Olivia nodded her head.
And before you knew it, Paul stepped forward from his previous position, behind the third person, to the right of Olivia, and knelt on George’s Hollywood star and started wiping it with his white handkerchief, right on George’s first name!

Paul was showing his respect towards his Beatle Brother in his own way – recognizing that Olivia and Dhani just ‘anointed’ themselves with the dust off George’s Hollywood star in Hindu tradition. At the same time, he is not pretending that he bought into George’s Hindu faith, hence he invented his own way to demonstrate his love and affection for George while amusing Olivia and Dhani in process.

And Tom Hanks was right on – this moment was indeed a Kodak moment.

So then - next question.

Which movie contains songs written by Tom Hanks?

Underwear! Underwear!

2011-12-16T19:50:00.001Z

File under: gratuitous pluggery, as my friend Clark Brooks would say.

Go to the page at http://blog.playfulpromises.com/blog/2011/12/16/giveaway-15-knickers-15-winners.html and be in with a chance of winning some luxurious undies. Why the heck not? It's not every day you get free silky knickers in the mail, is it? Who wouldn't want to feel that visceral thrill of seeing the post-person marching up your front path with a mysterious package in their gloved paws, and thinking to yourself "Oooh! I wonder what that could be? Sumptuous undergarments, perchance?" Who could resist the opportunity? Tell 'em I sent ya.

100 Records That Shook The World, #33

2011-12-13T22:08:00.001Z

Down By The Jetty (LP)

Dr. Feelgood

Dr. Feelgood had been touring the pub-rock circuit for a good three years when they released their debut album Down By The Jetty, an LP that has influenced rockers such as Paul Weller, Bob Geldof, Richard Hell and Blondie with its bluesy, ballsy guitar-driven rock. Guitarist Wilko Johnson insisted to first-time producer Vic Maile that all the tracks be recorded live in the studio, and so the LP sounds like a mono recording, with everything in the centre of the mix. This adds to the LP's quality rather than detracts.

The influence of Johnny Kidd & The Pirates is obvious, as well as John Lee Hooker. In fact, the band covers Boom Boom on side 1.
Over the years the Feelgoods have undergone many lineup changes, but their biggest blow was dealt in 1994 when frontman Lee Brilleaux died of cancer. Every year since, a special concert is held on their home turf, Canvey Island in Essex, in Lee's memory. In 2009 Julien Temple's Feelgood biopic Oil City Confidential premiered, with Brilleaux's mother as guest of honour. Reviewer Nick Hasted said: "Feelgood are remembered in rock history, if at all, as John the Baptists to punk's messiahs."

Enjoy.

School Rant

2011-12-13T21:41:00.000Z

So I was walking today past my old alma mater, Homewood School. Now when I was there in the late 70s/ early 80s it was just called Homewood Secondary School. These days they call it Homewood School and Sixth Form Centre, as if it's some sort of mini-college or something. Well, perhaps it is. Why do I say this? Read on and find out.

Just outside the school gates runs a footpath that goes down between the school sports field and the back entrances to the houses on Silver Hill. The back entrances of the houses usually have fences with gates and a couple of them have back steps. Pay attention to all this, it's important.

Back in my era the students were not allowed to leave the campus during school hours unless they were in the Sixth Form, and even then only during lunch hour. You just knew if you weren't a 6th Former and you wandered near the gates, you were being watched by a teacher. You sensed it, you could just feel a pair of eyes burning holes in the back of your skull. It was just common knowledge that you were asking for trouble if you tried to bunk off.

These days things have changed. First of all, no-one, not even teachers, can smoke on site. So the gate always has a member of staff or two standing outside in all weathers having a crafty ciggy. There's even a wall-mounted ashtray there, for pity's sake! Not only that but students smoke there too. What is wrong with this picture? For one thing, given that the price of cigarettes and tobacco products is astronomical (over £6 for a pack of 20 - that's about $9 a pack), where are schoolkids - 16 and 17 year-olds - getting the money to smoke with? Their parents must have more money than sense.
Back when I attended, teachers smoked in the staff room. We all hated being given something from one teacher to take to another if that teacher happened to be in the staff room. You opened the door, instant Wall O' Smoke. And heaven help you if you were discovered smoking at school. My friend Jim told me he was once hauled up before Mr. Hughes, the Head of Music and Head of Upper School, because he was caught smoking. As soon as he entered Reg Hughes' office, he was hit with the Wall O' Smoke. As he sat down to receive his telling-off, apparently Reg offered him a B&H.

Second thing that bothers me is the fact that at any time during the school day you will see schoolkids walking up and down the street in packs, but enter the campus and it's deserted. I just want to go up to one of them and yell "Does nobody actually GO to school anymore?" Someone in the know tells me that only 6th Formers are allowed off school grounds, but I'm sorry, they can't all be 6th formers, can they? How many bloody 6th Formers are there? I mean, I live with a 6th former, and some of them look a lot younger than him. Just today I saw three such examples, a right group of herberts, strolling down the footpath. One of them had one of those gelled-up fauxhawk hairdos, looking like a reject from X Factor, replete with a goofy smile and sunglasses. Yes, sunglasses, on a cloudy day in December. What a twonk. He and his cohorts sit down on somebody's back step, in full view of people playing on the sports field, and break out their rolly ciggies, and brazenly start smoking. And I'm sorry, this kid could not have been more than fourteen. And judging by the faces of the other adults I encountered while walking this route, this sort of thing is not uncommon, and to some little old ladies, fairly intimidating.

There are so many questions that jump into my mind. Firstly, why are the school not taking a harder line on this sort of stuff? Why is there not tighter security? And why do these kids walk around with apparent impunity, acting like they own the place? Why are they not in their damn classes, being taught stuff? Does the teacher even notice they're not there? And what's with this misplaced sense of entitlement that they all seem to have? Because you just know if someone actually did something about it, if the school took away all this impunity and adopted a less laissez-faire attitude, then they and their parents would piss and moan and scream about how their poor little angel's rights were being trampled on. The society we have become is one of gimme-gimme all the time, and with world economies collapsing, climate changing and resources depleting, this gimme-gimme culture has to change, and it's with the kids that it has to start. A bit of social responsibility and willingness to learn. I know I sound like an old fart, but goddammit, if I had to stay there all day, then they should too.

If it was my school to run, I'd lock the damn gates from 9 am to 4pm. Tough but fair, that's me.

Every Day I'm Puzzlin'

2011-11-26T23:18:00.001Z

So it is time for another fab groovy and hip edition of The Musical Puzzler, the only place where you can learn stuff you never knew you didn't really need to know but were forced to find out against your will anyway.

Last time I asked you about Phil Collins, a man whose name when mentioned can provoke sighs, groans, moans, or extreme violence. I happen to rather like the guy, but more for his work with Genesis and his first album, and also his acting, than for the great bulk of his solo work. It should not be forgotten that he is also a pretty damn kick-ass drummer, and for that I can forgive him all manner of things. however, the question concerned his acting career, or rather the early part of it when he was nobbut a lad. The question was what movie did he appear in as an extra at the tender age of thirteen? The answer was A Hard Day's Night. Don't believe me? Here's a still from said flick.

It's really him!

So, new question:

Which Beatle is the only one without a star on Hollywood's Walk Of Fame?

46

2011-11-25T21:58:00.001Z

Today marks the 46th anniversary of my mother being anaesthetised and having a C-section, resulting in yours truly. To say the least my start in life was somewhat inauspicious, and I nearly did not make it. The doctor that performed the emergency Caesarian was somewhat inexperienced in the technique, but he was the only doctor available and it was now or never, so he just had to get her opened up and me out. As a result there is a scar on my scalp that grows ever more visible due to my receding hairline. In a few years I will be able to seriously freak people out by showing it to them.

They do say that with age comes experience, and hence wisdom. So, what can I say that I have learned over the last 46 years that classifies as wisdom? What pearls of essential knowledge am I able to pass on to future generations? Well, I am not sure - I haven't written that bit yet. But I'm about to try. Here goes:

Liquor to beer - in the clear. Beer to liquor, never sicker. Unless you happen to be drinking snakebite, or Pernod. In either of those scenarios, all bets are off.
Sometimes, nothing beats a good hot shower.
Nouvelle cuisine is just a fancy way of saying 'tiny portions of pretentious food'. Do not eat it.
The best birthday cards are the ones that are funny - and have money in them.
A sink is always better without dishes piled up in it.
At some point you will look back on your life and be able to pinpoint key moments when you made the wrong decision. Try not to dwell on these moments, and try not to repeat those same mistakes.
When you are feeling down, watch a Mel Brooks movie. Nothing beats a damn good belly laugh.
Be what you is, cause if you be what you ain't, then you ain't what you is.
Always remember to stop and eat the toast.
Never trust anyone that does not like toast. Or Mel Brooks movies.
You do not have to be hungry to eat cake, dessert, chocolate or cookies.
Few things in life can make you feel sexier than a well-tailored suit.
Never, ever wear UGG boots.
Go buy box candy at the dollar store, stash it in the bottom of your handbag or purse underneath your other stuff, and then go to the movies. You'll thank me later.
Never get a tattoo with words in it.
Sing out loud in the grocery store. You'll enjoy it, and people will either join in or leave you alone. Either way, it's fun.
The joys of a good single malt cannot be underestimated.
No matter how cool it may seem to smoke a big cigar, it will make your mouth feel like the bottom of an ashtray.
Guns don't kill people - people with guns kill people. Melt the guns.
If you ever start to feel bad about yourself or your family, watch an episode of Maury or The Jeremy Kyle Show. You'll start to feel better.
A hot toddy is by far the most pleasurable way to treat a cold.
Nothing beats getting in between crisp cold sheets and warming them up.
Go see a real mountain at least once in your life.
If you cannot afford to eat at your favourite restaurant, do NOT go there and do dumb stuff like splitting a salad or asking for a glass of water with extra slices of lemon and Splenda so you can make your own 'lemonade' just to save money. The waiters will hate you. Stay home and eat beans on toast.
Never be ashamed to shop in a thrift store, flea market, jumble sale, charity shop or boot fair. Life is too short for snobbery.
They say you should dance like nobody's watching. I say you should too, but make sure you do it in front of a crowd for maximum effect.
Stay away from carbonated beverages, unless there is alcohol in them.

So there you are. Some gems from the ol' Hickmott brain. I hope you can find them useful. And as my birthday is exactly one month before Christmas, I decree that it is now OK to sing Christmas songs in public. I like to sing them from about July onwards, but once you get to Nov. 25th, you need not worry that people will look at you in a funny way. Unless, of course, that was your ultimate aim to begin with.

This is the 401st post on The World Of Jeff! Here's to another year of nonsense.

What's In A Name

2011-11-23T22:05:00.001Z

People are strange. This we know. I'll give you an example. I was walking home from town today and as I was walking, this little girl, who could not have been more than five or six, was scooting along the pavement on her scooter, as kids are apt to do. She was being pursued by her mother (at least, I assume it was her mother - could have been her aunt or even her grandma, I suppose) who was struggling slowly under the weight of a shopping bag (she was quite thin and wearing heels, so one shopping bag was about her limit), trying hard to catch up to the girl or make her stop before she reached the end of the path. The mother was yelling the girl's name at the top of her lungs, "DEIRDRE!!! DEIRDRE, COME BACK HERE!!! STOP!!" and of course, as kids are also apt to do, little Deirdre was completely ignoring Mum's/Auntie's/Granny's cries and scooting away merrily with a little smirk on her face.

As I passed the flustered parent/grandparent/relative I turned my head to see her catch up to the girl.
"How many times have I told you blah blah why do you always do that blah blah when will you ever blah blah that's dangerous blah..." her voice tailed off and I thought to myself, "I'll tell you why your kid doesn't listen to you, missus. It's because you named her Deirdre. And now she is punishing you for your idiocy."

Why do people do such thoughtless things when naming their kids? It is 2011, not 1965. Deirdre never was a very cool name and now it's even less cool. One hears the word uttered (and for those of you on the other side of the Atlantic, I don't mean the American pronunciation Dee-drah, which is now almost exclusively an African-American name - I mean the English pronunciation Deer - dree) and the only thing I can think of is that miserable woman with the huge ugly glasses from Coronation Street. Deirdre frickin' Barlow.

I don't have an answer to this one, folks, but why have folks recently taken to naming their kids very uncool names? Answers, suggestions etc. in the box below.

I'm A Mince Pie

2011-11-19T22:37:00.001Z

When I was younger my mum had (probably still has, actually) some big colourful weighty tomes about health and the like. Lots of explanations about the human body's inner workings with loads of pictures to help the big words along. I remember one section of one of these books that talked about body shapes, and the big words for the shapes such as ecto-mesomorph and endomorph. According to one website, Ectomorphs are those people that are relatively thin, lean, fragile looking, and flat chested if they are female. Skinny about covers it.
Endomorphs are the big folks that only have to look at a slice of cake in order to gain a pound or two.
And Mesomorphs are those bastards that have no trouble building muscle and losing weight whenever they feel like it. Of course, these descriptions are rather oversimplified, but you get the idea. But apparently even this is way too complicated for the average man in the street (or in the kitchen, come to that) to understand. We're all pretty thick, really, aren't we? At least according to The Daily Mirror (chhhptooey!) we are, or that's the conclusion I am drawn to by reading an article in their rag today. The article is charmingly titled Blokes are shaped like parsnips, puddings, Yule logs or candles and apparently we chaps have four main body types. I quote:

While girls are curved like pears or apples, blokes are now classed with the less complimentary categories of yule log, Christmas pudding, candle or parsnip.
And the best of the lot is the parsnip – with broad shoulders and tapered waists. But only 10% of men are shaped like David Beckham and TOWIE’s Mark Wright.
The research by high street clothes chain High and Mighty found almost half of blokes are a Yule log shape, including X Factor presenter Dermot O’Leary and talk show host Jonathan Ross, with shoulders and waists that are similar widths.
Almost a quarter fit into the Christmas pudding category, with comedian James Corden and Radio 1 DJ Chris Moyles. And a fifth are candles like Doctor Who star Matt Smith and footballer Peter Crouch.

High and Mighty’s Gill Politis said: “When it comes to body shapes, it is men who struggle the most to find clothes that fit them in all the right places. They need to take their time more when shopping and make sure they try things on.”
Parsnips look good in jeans and well-made shirts but Yule logs’ clothes can be too tight or too loose, while candles can end up with baggy-looking tops and trousers too short.

Well, all I can say is, I'm a bit like the Yule Log AND the Xmas pudding - so basically I am a festive dessert.

Sounds about right.

Wash The Matter?

2011-11-15T19:46:00.001Z

Our shower is not working properly.

I realise that that in itself is not necessarily the most stunning sentence I have ever uttered, but it did occur to me today that because I have friends on both sides of the Atlantic, not to mention other points on the globe, it can mean different things to different people. For example, if an American person reads the above sentence they might perhaps assume that it's leaking, or that there's no water at all, or the drain is clogged.

However, here in Britain, it can be translated as "there's no hot water" which might put an expression of deep puzzlement on your average American's visage. Let me explain a little.

In America, where I lived for 18 years and so feel that I am somewhat qualified to talk about these things, showers are commonplace. I certainly cannot think of a single house I lived in (and I lived in a lot - apartments, duplexes, condos, big fancy three-storey houses, trailers, townhouses) that did not come with a shower. Even the poxiest little tin box-trailer that I lived in for a month or so had a shower, despite the fact that it had no air-conditioning (this was in midsummer in Georgia), the bedrooms were barely big enough to fit a human sized bed in, they'd let you have a washing machine but not a dryer, was in a seedy trailer park in a terrible area of town, all the neighbours gave you that "say-hello-and-I'll-kill-you-in-your-sleep" look and the landlord's agent frequently answered the door in his bathrobe.

All of them had a shower, and that is because installing a shower when building a house in the States is easy, because all the houses are fairly new in the grand scheme of things, and they are built on a wooden frame, which means that the interior walls are just wood and gaps. Even installing a shower where there previously was none is easy because you just have to know where to knock a hole in the drywall to get at the pipes and run a T-joint and a pipe where you want it. The showers are plumbed in to the main water supply just like your sinks and taps. So if your shower is not working properly, and it's not clogged or leaking, then there is a problem related to the entire household water supply.

Here in the U of K, Merrie Olde England, things are a little different. Showers are a relatively new concept. Sure, we've known about them for a long time. We've watched American TV shows for decades. We remember Pam waking up and finding Bobby in the shower. But because a lot of our houses are a lot older, and they're mostly made of solid brick, anytime you wanted to have a shower put in you'd have to do an awful lot of knocking things about, which could get expensive. The cost of doing it was prohibitive, so we contented ourselves with baths. The first house I ever lived in with a shower installed was a house I rented after I got married for the first time in 1990. However, after I moved out of there I did not see another shower installed in a house until I moved to the States over a year later.

When I was at school some of my mates had houses with showers, because I seemed to have friends who were a bit more posh than myself (and I'm not using any kind of reverse-snobbery here, it's just a fact), but that was purely because the school system was different back then. Back then you just went to the nearest school to where you lived, unless your parents had enough money to send you to a private school or even a boarding school. You had no choice until you were in your second year of secondary school (age 12 or 13). These days if you want to go to the school just down the street from you, there's a whole system of applications and interviews involved, and even then you might not get in, which is why you see kids going to school on the commuter trains more and more. This totally blows my mind. How screwy is that? But I digress. As I often do.

Okay, I was talking about showers. I love showers, I am a shower guy. Don't get me wrong, baths have their place, in fact sometimes if one has had a hard day at work or whatever, a nice hot tub can be very relaxing. But you are not washing yourself in a nice relaxing bath. You are not scrubbing yourself, using the pumice stone or using the loofah. You are just soaking. But if you come home from a tiring day and you have plans to go out for the evening that require getting changed into a fresh set of duds, you are not going to have a bath, are you? You aren't going to waste precious time running the water and getting the temp right (testing it with your elbow) just for a quick dip. No, you are going to turn on the shower and hop in and be done in five minutes flat. Plus, you really can't sing in the bath the same way you can sing in the shower.

Also, showers use less water than baths, so I am a bit biased, being a bit of an eco-lefty-commie-pinko-greenie bugger. But beyond that, I like showers better because they just feel better, I feel like I'm getting cleaner in the shower because of the constant scrubby-rinsey sensation of the water (and if the shower has the 'needle' and 'pulsate' settings, so much the better. And 'needle+pulsate', pure heaven.) whereas sitting in the tub, you scrub, you rinse, congratulations, you are now sitting in a hot puddle of your own grot. Eww.

I view taking a bath the same way I view visiting a swimming pool. Don't expect me to take any exercise or use sudden movements. I hate swimming because why would anyone in full possession of their faculties want to get into some nice warm water and then be expected NOT to relax? Which is why you will not find me in a pool, but you might find me in a jacuzzi if there is one available.

So what we are left with in the UK now that showers are more and more commonplace is the electric shower, one where a little box is fitted onto the wall of your bathtub, attached via the wall to your cold water pipe, and a little electric heater inside the box does all the water heaty-uppy business. That's what we have. And that little water-heaty-uppy device inside our little shower-box-on-the-wall is, to put it bluntly, knackered. No matter how much you turn the dial on the box, the water never gets above tepid. Which is fine in the summer, when the last thing you might want is a hot shower. But now it is November and we have taken the proverbial plunge and acquired a new shower. We just have to have it installed. Which then puts us in the strange-sounding position of having to have a shower installed by an electrician.

100 Records That Shook The World, #34

2011-11-14T21:53:00.001Z

Autobahn (LP)

Kraftwerk

In 1970, Florian Schneider and friend and fellow musician Ralf Hütter formed Kraftwerk (which means Power Station, in case anyone was wondering). The pair had met as students and had played together in a band named Organisation who released one album on RCA entitled Tone Float.

Kraftwerk's first three LPs were mainly experimental art-rock, very free-form and without any catchy hooks. Strictly muso stuff. Then in 1974 came a record that not only changed the way Kraftwerk sounded, but changed music forever.

At this stage in their career Kraftwerk were still using traditional instruments as well as the newer MiniMoog and the ARP Odyssey. Florian was, after all, a flautist and violinist, and the previous three LPs had seen them use these extensively, treating them with effects and creating an electronic flute also.

The 22-minute "Autobahn" on side 1 was different to say the least. The record company edited it down to a 3-minute single and it reached number 25 on the Billboard Hot 100. Kraftwerk had arrived, and electronic music, which up until that point had been just a novelty, was here to stay. It is widely acknowledged that Kraftwerk's music has directly influenced many popular artists from many diverse genres of music.
Their musical style and image can be heard and seen in later electronic music by such modern legends as Gary Numan, Ultravox, John Foxx, OMD, Human League, Depeche Mode, Visage, and Soft Cell, to name a few. Kraftwerk also influenced other forms of music such as hip hop, house, and drum and bass, and they are also regarded as pioneers of the electro genre. Most notably, "Trans Europe Express" and "Numbers" were interpolated into "Planet Rock" by Afrika Bambaataa & The Soul Sonic Force, one of the earliest hip-hop/electro hits.
Joy Division and New Order were heavily influenced by Kraftwerk. Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis was a fan of Kraftwerk, and showed his colleagues records that would influence both groups. New Order's song "Your Silent Face" has some similarities with the track "Europe Endless", and had a working title of KW1, or Kraftwerk 1. New Order also recorded a song called "Krafty" that appeared as a single and on the album Waiting for the Sirens' Call. New Order also sampled "Uranium" in their 1983 songs "Blue Monday" and "The Beach".
David Bowie's "V-2 Schneider", which was released as the B-side to the "Heroes" single, and also features on the album "Heroes", is a tribute to Florian Schneider.

Here's the Fab Four.

100 Records That Shook The World, #35

2011-10-25T20:20:00.000+01:00

Very occasionally here on 100 Records, I have reason to disagree with the inclusion of a certain record. I started posting this list and will not deviate from it, but now and again, a record crops up that I just can't stand. Now, I like prog rock, just not all of it. To my mind a lot of it is just pure self-indulgence. I love Genesis, love Emerson Lake & Palmer, but Yes are one of those bands that I find to be totally up themselves. However, a lot of people would disagree, so...

Close To The Edge (LP)

Yes

All I have to say is that many other sources find this album to be utterly brilliant. In the Q & Mojo Classic Special Edition Pink Floyd & The Story of Prog Rock, the album came No. 3 in its list of "40 Cosmic Rock Albums". It is also listed in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. Progarchives.com voted it the greatest progressive album of all time in 2006. Guitar World ranked it No. 67 in their (Reader's Choice) list of the 100 Greatest Guitar Albums of All Time. As of 17 December 2010, it is ranked as the 72nd greatest album of all time on Rate Your Music.

The story of the album is very tiresome indeed, talking about Jon Anderson and Bill Bruford's basing it on Siddhartha, which I once tried to read and my will to live grew significantly shorter. Blah blah spiritual awakening, blah blah symbolism, blah blah serial lifetimes of the soul, you get the idea.

Anyhoo, I suppose I should let you listen to some of it and judge for yourself, but I gotta tell ya, give me Brain Salad Surgery any day.

Puzzle On

2011-10-24T18:16:00.000+01:00

Last time on the Puzzler I asked you to cast your minds back to the early 80's and a little charity gig known as The Secret Policeman's Other Ball. A chappie called Sting took the stage and did a couple of blistering acoustic renditions of Roxanne and Message In A Bottle, and later on in the show he was joined on stage by a backing band for a version of Dylan's I Shall Be Released. I asked you who was in that band. My good friend Ruprecht correctly answered that they were none other than Bob Geldof, Phil Collins, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Donovan. What a line-up! Here's the vid, and you can see that the full band consists of many more than just those five. Midge Ure, for one!

Alright. New question. Phil Collins was a child actor before entering into music, and was in the London stage production of Oliver! at the tender age of fourteen. He also appeared in two films. Well, I say appeared, but his scene in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was cut. What was the other movie in which he was an extra?

What's The Deal?

2011-10-23T23:36:00.000+01:00

A few years ago, when I lived in the good ole US of A, it came to pass that there was a serious drought in terms of good telly to watch. Somewhere in the middle of the '00s, just after we'd endured about a year of nothing but post-9/11 news updates, there seemed to be absolutely nothing but reality TV on, and of all those reality shows, the reality game shows were the worst. This is when I first encountered the ghastly Deal Or No Deal. On the face of it, it's not a groundbreaking concept. In fact it's just a rehash of older shows such as Take Your Pick or Let's Make A Deal. But the fact that they can find people so deluded as to think that they have any sort of control over what's going to be in the boxes/suitcases frankly staggers me. I am no maths whiz but even I can remember covering probability in school.

It was bad enough watching this show in the States, where Howie Mandel, a talented comic actor and stand-up comedian, is completely superfluous to the proceedings, which, if you've never seen Deal, is a debacle of epic proportions.

He used to have a full head of flowing locks.

26 leggy airbrushed lovelies in matching outfit stand next to 26 identical metal briefcases on some sort of tiered step affair which looks like it might have been used to help the celebs get to their seats in Hollywood/Celebrity Squares. (Sorry, but writing a blog with international followers requires that I keep everyone informed so that they don't lose the plot. You haven't lost the plot, have you? Good. Then I shall continue.) These Botox poster-children then stand with plastic grin affixed firmly to the front of their phizzogs awaiting instructions from the numpty who has been picked to play this ridiculously childish game, egged on by their family members and the baying mob in the studio. They are required to decide upon cases to open, each containing a number representing a monetary amount, from 1 cent up to a million dollars. Every so often they are interrupted by a phone call from the banker, who supposedly sits silhouetted in the gods and occasionally offers the contestants a sum of money in exchange for stopping the game.

He usually sports a much more vivid shirt than this.

In the UK it is presented by Noel Edmonds, ex- DJ and presenter of such classic shows as Multi-Coloured Swap Shop and The Late Late Breakfast Show. The cases are red boxes, and there are only 22 of them. The leggy lovelies are replaced by a group of random people who are either people known to the contestant, people who've played before, or people who are waiting their turn to play. Or just people they pull in off the street, who knows really? The maximum prize is £250k, but other than those differences, the concept is the same.

The main issue I have watching this show is how addictive it is. You simply can't pull yourself away from it even if you hate it. I find myself talking aloud to the TV, telling the woman to take the deal. "He just offered you £11,500 missus! You're not going to get a better offer than that!" And predictably, she says NO DEAL, and 5 minutes later regrets it when there are only four amounts left on the board and they are 1p, 50p, £3,000 and £5,000, and the banker offers a paltry £600. Still she resolutely marches on, believing in the power of lucky numbers, "Ooh, my son's birthday is on the 14th, I'll take box number 14 please Noel." Brilliant idea.

Trouble is, nobody really has a mind like a computer. And that's what you need in this game. You need to be able to instantaneously

Add the amounts left on the board; and
Divide that by the number of boxes left; and
Figure out if the banker's offer is better than that.

If it is, I advise you to take it. But what with the host's incessant babble, the banker's constant interruptions, the audience and your family members yelling and carrying on, not to mention being on national telly and your lunatic belief in the power of luck, or clairvoyance, or divination of some sort, and that you have any control over inanimate objects, it's no wonder people make these dumb mistakes. You want my advice if you're thinking of going on Deal? First offer the banker makes you over £10 grand? Take it. Pay some bills with it or something. You're in debt already, aren't you? Why else would you agree to go on a stupid game show?

Oddness

2011-10-11T21:11:00.001+01:00

Is it just me? Or does anyone else find it odd that this man

Jezza himself, a man who has a well-documented gambling addiction which he is in recovery from, has a weekday talk show sponsored by several different online bingo websites? Anyone find that odd? Or is it just me?

Is it just me or does anyone else find it even odder that this guy

the Jezmeister, is now presenting his Maury-Dr.Phil style daytime trash TV talk show in the USA, where there are surely more than enough of his kind of show? Or is it just me?

Is it just me or does anyone find it truly bizarre that this man

the Sultan of JezzaVille, the man with not only a gambling addiction, is now presenting a game show entitled 'High Stakes'? Or is it just me?

Good on ya Jeremy.

Feelin' Lucky, Punk?

2011-10-09T21:57:00.000+01:00

I am going to do something I have yet to do in this blog. Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous or controversial.

I am going to write a gig review. Last time I wrote a gig review was in 1993 after seeing Depeche Mode at the Seattle Center Arena, and that was a helluva show. The support band was The The, which was a total surprise, and a very pleasant one at that. But I am not here to talk about The Mode or The The. I am here to talk about The Lucky Ones.
Who?
Haven't heard of The Lucky Ones yet? Where have you been?

The Lucky Ones are a self-described 'power trio', who take classic tunes from a variety of eras and genres and strip them down and rework them for unlikely instruments including melodica, ukulele, kazoo, guitar and 1950s-style cocktail drums. I first encountered them last year while perusing the musician pages on Myspace. After listening to some of the tracks on their page and taking in their eclectic styles of dress (Brad in plus-fours and golfers' flat cap as a country gent, or in 1940s B-movie suit and fedora, Adam in 1920s pinstripe with Homburg hat, Jayne with her array of 1950s polka dot cocktail dresses with the foofy underskirts) I decided I must see them.

Luckily for me, they're a local band, and I noticed they were due to be playing at The Woolpack in Tenterden and so on the appointed date, I dragged Laura along to see them. What a great gig. I discovered that not only were they as good if not better live than they were on record, but that drummer and vocalist Brad was that rare thing, a genuinely funny American, from Connecticut no less, whose off-the-wall comments between songs had me in stitches. At one point he was reading the pub's menu aloud and complaining about the way British people say 'Basil'.

At that gig we befriended The Lucky Ones and decided we must see them again as soon as humanly possible. To tide us over in the meantime we purchased their CD, 'Fruitcake', which was chock full of their brilliant musical eclecticism.

One cold day early in the year we cajoled my sister to take us down to Hastings, the band's birthplace, to see them at The Hastings Arms. It was cold and it was breezy but the band were on top form and had the tiny pub rocking. She was an instant fan.

We then saw them in March at The Swan in Wittersham which I have to say was an odd venue. The central bar has one side with pool table and jukebox, one might say the 'yoof' side, and the other side in which the band were to play was more of an older persons' side where there were restaurant tables. The people at the bar seemed almost oblivious to the band and Brad was struggling to get the attention he usually commands. The pub also did not turn off the jukebox while they were playing which I thought was a bit strange, not to say rude. A bizarre gig but enjoyable nonetheless. They are a well rehearsed combo and were as tight and in control as ever.

Time passed by and many opportunities to see TLO came and went. We just had too many other things going on and were unable to see them. Finally we saw that the Luckies were playing another local tavern, The Crown in St. Michaels, an afternoon show on the 9th (today). So it was that we showed up just after they'd started, and they were excited to see us. After they'd finished the song we'd walked in on, Brad mentioned our arrival over the PA and alluded to the fact that I am on the computer a lot (am I?).

Their set was bursting with old faves and newer ones... "Billie Jean", "Don't Get Me Wrong", "The Old Bazaar In Cairo", and one of my particular favourites, their mashup of "Funky Cold Medina/Honky Tonk Women". At the interval they came and talked with us (Brad and Jayne particularly, Adam's a bit quieter) and Brad even bought us a refill on our drinks (but keep mum about that one or he'll have every Tom, Dick and Harry angling for a pint), and he told us that they were playing an afternoon gig here and then zooming off to St. Leonards for another gig tonight. They're probably playing right now as I write this.

The reason The Lucky Ones are so entertaining is not just because of the brash Yankee drummer who is always ready with an off-the-cuff quip, able to make new lyrics up on the spot to suit the moment, location or mood, nor is it only due to his remarkable syncopative skills behind the kit. It is not just due to the superb guitar-and-ukulele picking and strumming techniques displayed by Adam, nor is it the singing, dancing and melodica-playing powerhouse Jayne. It is not due to their highly educated and educating choices of songs, betraying their vast archival musical knowledge (who'd have thought you could hear Althia and Donna's 'Up Town Top Ranking', Johnny Cash's 'A Boy Named Sue', Altered Images' 'Happy Birthday' and Doris Day's 'The Deadwood Stage' (from Calamity Jane) from the same band, let alone at the same show?). It is all those things and more, for The Lucky Ones are a band who personify the phrase the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. They are my new favourite band. Ain't I lucky?

Check out some of their tuneage on their page at http://www.theluckyones.org.uk/

Return Of The Musical Puzzler

2011-10-04T20:33:00.001+01:00

So a while back I asked you on The Puzzler for the name of Stewart Copeland's punk rock alter ego. I sensed that not many of you knew, except for my sister, who knows pretty much everything.

Copeland released precisely four singles under the pseudonym of Klark Kent, with only one ("Don't Care") breaching the UK Top 50, peaking at 48. He released a 10-inch Kryptonite green vinyl Klark Kent EP in 1980, and a 1995 CD entitled Kollected Works contains all the EP tracks and all the b-sides from the singles.

I actually rather like the Klark Kent stuff, I always liked The Police tracks that Stewart wrote and Klark's songs all were very similar.

Here's "Away From Home".

So what's the new Puzzler? Well you may ask.

Copeland's Police cohort Gordon Sumner, aka Sting, just turned 60. Does that not make you feel old? Boy, it does me. A tad over thirty years ago Sting performed solo for the first time at The Secret Policeman's Other Ball in London, where he sang 'Roxanne' and 'Message In A Bottle'. Later in the show he sang Bob Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" with a backing band.

Who were the members of that band? (Hint: They're all rock luminaries.)

100 Records That Shook The World, #36

2011-10-04T19:53:00.002+01:00

Catch A Fire (LP)

The Wailers

Not 'Bob Marley and The Wailers'. Just 'The Wailers'. Sure, Bob was the principal singer and songwriter, but it was still a triumvirate, with Bunny Wailer and Peter Tosh doing just as much as Bob. Bunny and Tosh would appear on just one more Wailers album, Burnin', the following year before both departing for solo careers. Catch A Fire was their first major-label release. The original master tapes were flown from Jamaica to England where Chris Blackwell twiddled some more knobs, added some more guitar and keyboard parts, released it and made a heap of money. After that, everyone knew the name of Island Records, Chris Blackwell, and Bob Marley and The Wailers.

The first 20,000 pressings of the LP came in a silver Zippo-lighter sleeve with just the band's name and title on it. The sleeve worked just like the lighter, with a hinge on its edge so the top half could be flipped back to reveal the record.

However, these had to made by hand and it was just too expensive. So the more familiar sleeve with the portrait of Bob smoking a joint replaced it, and this actually said 'Bob Marley and The Wailers' on it.

The album itself is a classic, containing as it does the songs "Stop That Train" and "Stir It Up", which went on to become a worldwide smash for Johnny Nash. Catch A Fire was the album that turned Bob and The Wailers into international reggae superstars, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Enjoy.

Hi, Brow (updated)

2011-10-04T19:10:00.000+01:00

Over the last two or three years I have gradually become aware (or been made aware, one or the other) of the fact that my eyebrows contains unnaturally long individual hairs. I never really regarded this as a problem, but that was because generally speaking, they laid flat and all pointed in the same direction. But recently, over the last 18 months or so, they have begun to stick out at odd angles. When this first occurred I dismissed it as a one-off. But gradually I have come to accept that fact that they are going to keep doing this, at ever stranger angles, until my brows no longer look like brows but rather resemble an osprey's nest tucked into a craggy cliff face. I accept it, but it disturbs me somewhat. It does tend to mark me out as a geezer. At least I don't have ear hair. Yet.

However, something occurred yesterday that made me quite comfortable with the whole bushy eyebrows concept and in fact made me wonder why I'd been fighting it for so long. Just like napping. When you're a kid, grownups try to make you go down for a nap, and you fight it, because you don't want to miss out on all the excitement happening all around you. But when you're an adult, you start to realise the value of naps. A little mid-afternoon snooze for half an hour or so is good, just to recharge the old batteries.

It all started when Laura, like so many other people (usually women - mum, girlfriends, etc.) before, approached me with that glint in her eye (no, not that glint - get your mind out of the gutter, willya?), the one that says, "I'm going to do something painful to your face. You will not appreciate it, but it is for your own good. Squirm all you like, ain't nobody gonna help you!". Usually it's accompanied by the glint of something metallic in their hand - tweezers, scissors, straight razor - and the smile of someone who didn't attend medical school.

Laura came towards me wielding tweezers, bent upon plucking some eyebrow hairs. I protested, and offered my usual way of avoiding the treatment by saying that if she were to give me the tweezers I would head to the salle de bains and do it myself. She was having none of it. I tried to reason with her, saying that self-inflicted pain was more tolerable than other-person-inflicted pain. In response to this, she set about me forcefully and removed some abnormally long hairs, and this is what truly disturbed me, because I myself had only recently plucked some eyebrow hairs, and the ones I left in were nowhere near that long. After she had finished with her attack I ran upstairs with the tweezers to look in the bathroom mirror and saw that there were more extremely lengthy barbs set in my brow. I removed some of the longer ones and then forgot the whole episode.

Until... about two hours later, when Laura, myself and my sis were in Sis's car, driving around and delivering things to various people. After one such delivery, I ran back to the car with a spring in my step, opened the door and promptly bashed my eyebrow ridge on the top of the door frame. I then realised how much more it hurt and throbbed than that sort of thing normally would, and then I had an epiphany. I realised that it was precisely for this reason that old geezers let their eyebrows get all tangled and bushy and overgrown. Protection. Cushioning. A built-in eyebrow pillow. So from now on, I resolve to never worry too much about all those long hairs in my eyebrow. They are there for a good reason.

However, don't expect me not to panic when the ear hair starts. That's just plain wrong.

::UPDATE::

It appears I spoke too soon. She approached me with the tweezers again today, and removed a sizeable hair from my right lug'ole. It is official. I am old. I am looking for online suppliers of bath chairs, ear trumpets, slippers and bedpans as we speak. I am also trying to put in for my bus pass early, to avoid the mad stampede.

Come Back Willow Smith, All Is Forgiven

2011-09-03T23:15:00.001+01:00

Folks, as you know, I am always on the lookout for new and interesting talent. Previously on these pages we have discussed the delights of Tinie Tempah, Willow Smith and Dizzee Rascal, but I was alerted yesterday by my dear sister to a song that, once I heard it and dissected its lyrical genius, nay, poetic beauty, I felt I simply must share with a waiting world. Folks, I was stunned. Gobsmacked. Taken somewhat aback. (CAUTION: SARCASM ALERT!!)

The disc in question is one by that purveyor of pulchritudinous pouting, one Miss Nicki Minaj and features the wonderful wordsmith Mr. Eminem. The tune itself is curiously entitled "Roman's Revenge".

My sister alerted me to this after witnessing some young preteenyboppers prancing around to said platter on a kids' dance show, and became perturbed by the chorus, which apparently had something to do with feeling 'like a dungeon dragon'.

Now, I have heard of the game Dungeons and Dragons, and as I recall, the dragons don't actually inhabit the dungeons. Or do they? Have to go and check. .... dum de dum... la la la... nope. Can't find anything that says that. Undoubtedly out there in geekdom, somebody will jump all over this and tell me who and what lives in which dungeon where, but this is irrelevant and getting us off track.

Anyway, on to the lyrics. They are without doubt the wor... well, I'll let you decide for yourself.

I am not Jasmine, I’m Aladdin

So far ahead, these bums is laggin’

See me in that new thing, bums is gaggin’

I’m startin’ to feel like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

I’m startin’ to feel like a dungeon dragon

Look at my show footage, how these girls be spazzin’

So f**k I look like gettin’ back to a has-been?

Yeah, I said it, has-been

Hang it up, flatscreen

(Haha) Plasma

Hey Nicki, hey Nicki, asthma

I got the pumps, it ain’t got medicine

I got bars, sentencin'

I’m a bad bitch, I’m a c**t Charming young lady!

And I’ll kick that hoe, punt

Forced trauma, blunt

You play the back, b***h, I’m in the front

You need a job, this ain’t cuttin’ it

Nicki Minaj is who you ain’t f***in’ with

You li’l brag a lot, I beat you with a pad-a-lock This is utter genius at work folks!

I am a movie, camera block

You outta work, I know it’s tough

But enough is enough

Raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Like a dungeon dragon, like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Like a dungeon dragon, like a dungeon dragon

Then Slim Shady drops in to say a few words, most of them rather fruity and quite pervy.

I ain’t into S&M, but my whip’s off the chain

A little drop of candy paint drips off the frame

Twisted-a** mind, got a pretzel for a brain

An eraser for a head, f***in’ pencil for a frame

You don’t like it then peel off, b***h

Every last woman on Earth I’ll kill off, and I still wouldn’t f@%k you, slut He's single, girls!

So wipe the smile on your grill off, I swear to God I’ll piss a Happy Meal off

Get the wheels turnin’, spin, and wheel off

Snap the axel in half, bust the tie-rod

Quit hollerin’ “Why, God?” He ain’t got s$&t to do wit' it

Bygones’ll never be bygones, so won’t be finished swallowin’ my wad

I ain’t finished blowin’ it, nice bra

Hope it’ll fit a tough titty, b***h

Life’s hard, I swear to God, life is a dumb blonde white broad

With fake t**s and a bad dye job

Who just spit in my f***in’ face and called me a f***in’ tightwad

So finally I broke down and bought her an iPod

And caught her stealin’ my music, so I tied her arms and legs to the bed

He then gets even more peculiar. The faint of heart should not proceed.

Set up the camera and p***ed twice on her

Look, two pees and a tripod!

The moral to the story is, life’s treatin’ you like dry sod?

Kick it back in its face, my God

It’s Shady and Nicki Minaj, you might find the sight quite odd

But don’t ask why, bitch (Ask why not)

The wo-world is my punchin’ bag and

If I’m garbage, you’re a bunch of maggots

Make that face, go on, scrunch it up at me

Show me the target so I can lunge and attack it

Like a, raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

You fell off, off, they musta bumped your wagon

You musta went off the back, I’m ’bout to go off the deep end

I told you to stay in your lane, you just choked in traffic

At this point it is almost a relief that Nicki Minger returns.

(I-I-I-I-Is) Is this the thanks that I get for puttin’ you b****es on?

Is it my fault that all of you b****es gone?

Shoulda sent a thank-you note, you little ho

Now I’ma wrap your coffin with a bow

(Ni-ni-ni) “Nicki, she’s just mad ’cause you took the spot”

Word, that b***h mad ’cause I took the spot?

Well, b***h, if you ain’t sh****n’, then get off the pot

Got some n****s out in Brooklyn that’ll off your top

I-I-I-I hear them mumblin’, I hear the cacklin’

I got ‘em scared, shook, panickin’

Overseas, church, Vatican

You at a stand, still, mannequin

You wanna sleep on me? Overnight?

I’m the m****f***in’ boss, overwrite

And when I pull up, vroom, motorbike

Now all my ***** gettin’ bucked, overbite

I see them dusty-a** Filas, Levi’s

Raggedy-a%&, holes in your knee-highs

I call the play, now do you see why?

These b@&$%es callin’ me Manning, Eli

(Manning, Eli!) Ma, ma-ma-ma-ma, Manning, Eli

These b****es callin’ me (Manning, Eli)

Here comes Marshall Mathers again. Look out.

A-a-a-a-all you li’l f*$£@ts can suck it

No homo, but I’ma stick it to ‘em like refrigerator magnets

And I’m crooked enough to make straitjackets bend

Yeah, look who’s back again, b***h, keep actin’ as if

You have the same passion that I have

Yeah, right, still hungry, my a**

You a**d**ks had gastric bypass

Ain’t hot enough to set fire to dry grass

And ’bout as violent as hair on eyelids (Eyelash!)

Go take a flyin’ leap of faith off a f***in’ balcony

‘Fore I shove a falcon wing up your fly a**

You know what time it is, so why ask?

When Shady and Nicki’s worlds clash

It’s (high class) meets (white trash)

Raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Like a dungeon dragon, like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

Like a dungeon dragon, like a dungeon dragon

Grown men! Grown men!

Stop it, stop it!

You’ve gone mad, mad, I tell you, mad!

You and this boy Slim Shady!

What’s goin’ on?

They’ll lock you away!

They’ll put you in a jail cell!

I promise!

Take your mother’s warning, Roman

Pleaaaaaaase

Back to bed! Run along!

Let’s go! Come on!

Wash your mouth out with soap, boys

(Boys, boys, boys, boys, boys, boys…)

Surely I am not the only one who is slightly perturbed by all of this? There are so many questions raised here. What's a dungeon dragon? And what the hell did any of that actually mean? And I think most important of all, why was it being played on a kids' dance show with all those expletives in it? Who is Roman? And why is it that the delightful Mr. Em wants to pee on people and put parts of birds up their bottoms? This is not normal by any stretch of the imagination, and some people go to therapists for less. Still curious about this song? Here it is in all its bizarre weird tune-free sweary-up dragon-ness, if you aren't queasy enough yet.

Oil Be Darned

2011-09-03T12:09:00.000+01:00

How about those crazy Yanks, huh?

They arrested Daryl Hannah? And not, as you might suppose, for crimes against acting. (OK, Splash was good, but Clan Of The Cave Bear? really?) No, they arrested her for failure to obey a lawful order. What was the order? "Move your butt, lady!" Because the ravishing Ms. Hannah was part of a group of protesters, protesting outside The White House against the proposed extension of an oil pipeline that currently runs from Canada to Oklahoma. What's that you say, Jeff? Isn't that an awful long way? You bet your sweet bippy it's a long damn way. And they want to extend it? Where to? All the way to the Gulf of Mexico, mes amis. Sixteen hundred miles. For a thumping good read about all the technical details and environmental impacts of the project, go to http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/aug/23/tar-sands-keystone-xl-climate.

The Trans Canada Corp pipeline we are referring to is called Keystone XL, and it currently runs all the way from Alberta to Oklahoma. It has had 12 spills in the last year. That's one a month, Einstein. It runs from the Athabasca tar sands in Alberta, through Montana, South Dakota, Nebraska, Oklahoma and would end up at refineries on the Texas coast. It runs through family farms, through ranches and over the Ogallala fresh water aquifer that supplies water for 20 million people and for a third of the nation's most rich farm lands and ranch lands. And here's the crazy thing. Those nice adorable lovely politicians, namely Senator Hillary (Big Legs) Clinton and some dude named Obama who just happens to be the flippin' PRESIDENT are going to allow this. You know why? Because of all the jobs that will be created. The Prez cannot be seen to be against the creation of jobs, and so even though we all know that he knows, and he knows we know he knows, that this is probably one of the worst things for the planet, for the USA and for his reputation, he has to do it because of pressure from the big oil companies who for too long have had the government in the palm of their hand, and pressure from the State Department who will remind him of his campaign promises to make a brighter future for all (i.e. more jobs). He knows it's bullshit, and he will just have to bow to that pressure and OK it. So am I saying that the President, who promised change, hope, clean energy etc. is a sellout? Well, sure I am, but only in the context that ALL politicians are sellouts. If there was one lawmaker out there who could just outlaw lobbyists, we'd be a whole lot better off. But until that day, one palm will grease another, and another and another ad infinitum and no real change will occur. So am I saying Obama is a bad man? Not at all. He's just another hapless idealist that suddenly realised that he wasn't going to achieve much despite his lofty ideals because he didn't understand going into it just what he was going to be up against. So now he shifts focus away from tighter environmental controls and towards jobs and job creation, because this is what his aides assure him is going to be key in getting him re-elected.

And don't get me started on the Canadians. It's their oil we are talking about, and it's not like normal sploshy oil either. It's viscous goo mixed with dirt and they have to use millions of gallons of water to separate the two. Like I said, read the article at http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/aug/23/tar-sands-keystone-xl-climate and it'll give you a picture of what's happening.

Tomorrow: More crap that bothers me.

100 Records that Shook The World, #37

2011-08-26T22:48:00.001+01:00

Raw Power (LP)

Iggy and The Stooges

Raw Power was the third Stooges album and pretty much got ignored by all save a relatively small group of hardcore fans when it was released in 1973. Among that rabid fan base were a few musicians that went on to create punk rock. The album, then, can be considered a true proto-punk article and Iggy truly earns the title of Godfather of Punk.

It has become one of the most influential rock albums ever, with musicians as diverse as Johnny Marr, Kurt Cobain and even Cee Lo Green citing it as one of their favourites. Most of them comment on not only how brilliant the lyrics are, how amazing the guitar playing is, and how powerful the album is, but also how fragile and 'rickety' it sounds. It's almost as if the band just played everything in one take and moved on to the next track. The truth is somewhat different.

After their first two LPs The Stooges had essentially broken up. Iggy's heroin habit was out of control. Bassist Dave Alexander was struggling with alcoholism. Iggy moved to London and was signed to Bowie's MainMan management. James Williamson, who had joined The Stooges as a second guitarist, was to join Iggy in London and record an album of new material. However, after unsatisfactory attempts to find an English rhythm section, Williamson suggested that former Stooges Scott and Ron Asheton join them in London. They flew in, and with Ron relegated to bass (he was the original lead guitarist) and Scott back in the drum seat they went into the studio.

Iggy produced it himself, in a 24-track studio. He only used three of the tracks - himself on one, the band on another, and the third reserved for lead guitar. Tony DeFries was the head of MainMan at the time and told Iggy that he had to let Bowie remix it or it would not get released. So into the studio they went again, Bowie and Iggy, and on hearing the tapes, Bowie reportedly declared, "Jim - there's nothing to mix". So he just went through the tracks one by one, tweaking the levels here and there, adding echo on certain parts, until they were both satisfied. The result was a classic LP and the lifelong friendship between Bowie and Pop.

Enjoy.

100 Records That Shook The World, #38

2011-08-26T21:59:00.001+01:00

The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars (LP)

David Bowie

Okay, there's a lot that's been written about this album, what the whole Ziggy concept means and the story that Bowie envisioned around the whole stage show, about the end of the world and how Ziggy gets chosen to 'carry the news' of the earth's impending doom by the 'Starmen', and how he ends up believing that he is some sort of prophet and ends up dying on stage as his body gets taken over by the Starmen , in a rock & roll suicide, heavy concepts and all that, but leaving those things aside... it's just a bloody brilliant album. Nuff said. Glam rock at its finest. Here's Dave for ya. Crank up those speakers.

Don't Box Me In

2011-08-19T23:04:00.001+01:00

In the last Musical Puzzler, many moons ago, I posed the question, "What, prithee, is the connection between The Police and Wall Of Voodoo, apart from the fact that they are both awesome?" or something along those lines.

In fact, it was a trick question, because there are two, count 'em, TWO things that connect both those bands. One is that Miles Copeland III, older bro of Stewart Copeland and manager of The Police, was the owner of I.R.S. Records, a label upon which Wall Of Voodoo appeared. The other is this:

OK, new question: Stewart Copeland had (or has) a punk rock alter ego. What's the name of this character?

Annoyances

2011-08-19T22:22:00.000+01:00

Can anyone tell me why they bothered to make another Spy Kids sequel? Oh yeah, money. I knew there had to be a reason.

Does it not freak you out when your kids play Guitar Hero, and all the songs are alt-rock classics from the 90s by bands such as Bush and Stone Temple Pilots and Blind Melon, and the kids playing the game have absolutely no idea what these songs are?

Why does my phone reset its wallpaper when there are too many photos on the memory card? I'd really love to know.

Why does it bother me that people are surprised when other people get eaten by sharks? Stay out of the ocean, dummy.

Why can I not find a pair of headphones that sit on my head right? Always used to in the 80's, but now I put a pair on and one of the speakers wants to sit at a 45-degree angle to my head. Sorry, but I refuse to wear earbuds. For starters, the name annoys me. Too similar to 'cotton buds'.

(Public) Transports Of Delight

2011-08-02T22:33:00.001+01:00

The 312 bus route from Tenterden to Rye is a fairly short one - it only takes about half an hour, and Laura and I both fancied a few hours pootling around Rye, which is a gorgeous town full of interesting shops, ancient historical buildings, lovely places to eat and gorgeous views. So we looked up the timetable online and saw that the bus left Tenterden at approximately ten minutes past the hour all morning, so we knew roughly what time we were supposed to be up there at the stop. As we got there we double-checked the timetable and saw that the time had changed from 11:10 to 11:23. No big deal. So we're a few minutes early. So what?

Well, the reason for the change was that the route had been taken over from Coastal Coaches by Stagecoach buses. Again, no big deal. But the route was taken over a mere three days ago, on the 31st of July.

All the while we were ingesting this information, we had noticed that a rather loud-voiced lady and her two granddaughters were waiting at the stop, and the lady had been talking with other waiting passengers also. Loudly. Annoyingly. When 11:23 rolled around, she started in with, "Well, the bus isn't here girls! I don't know how we're going to get home! Tut-tut! Tsk tsk! We might have to call and get a taxi! Terrible service isn't it girls?!?" and this other vociferous woman was nodding in agreement with her, "Oh yes! Terrible service! We ought to write and complain about this atrocious abomination!!" and other such sentiments. A few more minutes went by, and they then enlisted the help of a rather stinky-looking fellow who appeared to be carrying his entire world with him (three heavy jackets - camo jackets - on a hot summer day? really?) who also started joining in loudly, "Oh yes, we should definitely all of us band together and send floods of letters to their head office! And say things like I'd rather have NO service than service like THIS!!" etc. All the while Laura and I were thinking, "Shut up, it's a bus - they show up sooner or later."

After a short while, at about 11:40, a bus appeared along the High Street, looking suspiciously like the 312. Yes, it was the 312! Rejoice and be happy, for our charabanc has arrived! Huzzah!

Alas, it was not to be. The 312 parked itself across the street (which is normal - it drops passengers off there and then comes across the street to us, usually). The stinky fellow was dispatched to investigate the cause of the 312's tardiness. He came back after a few moments to inform the assembled throng that the bus in question was not the 312 any more but in fact had magically transformed into the 340 service to Hastings. The crowd were aghast. The lady with the grandkids was incensed, and so was her purple-shirt-wearing friend. So much so that when the poor humble bus driver came across the road to pick up riders for Hastings, the group, which by now was resembling an angry mob, approached him and quizzed the fellow as to why the service was so poor, and that they were all going to write to their MPs and the BBC and Phillip Schofield to get something done about it. Bah! Dear Sir, I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms etc., Sincerely, Angry of Tenterden.

The driver, anxious to keep to his by-now buggered schedule, picked up those who wished to travel to the wilds of darkest Hastings and put the pedal to the metal. Wisely, I feel.

At this the woman with the grandkids once again reiterated to her charges that she just did NOT know WHAT she was going to do to get them home, she'd HAVE to call for a taxi, etc. The kids, of course, were completely oblivious to all of this and were having a grand old time chasing each other and hitting the lamp post with sticks. We, on the other hand, were wishing she WOULD call a taxi and shut up.

Another bus rumbled up the High Street. This was the 340 from Hastings, which magically changed into the 312 to Rye as soon as he deposited his passengers on the other side of the street. As he came over the mob surged forward. Each and every one of them deemed it necessary to have an extended conversation about the state of affairs as they entered the bus and purchased their tickets. By the time it came to our turn to get on, we just looked at him and he at us, and we just made our purchase and sat down. Clearly what had happened was that the drivers, being from a different bus company than the one that had previously operated the route, were all learning the routes and stops etc. and this was naturally eating up time and causing the buses to be late. It's understandable. But the woman with the small people in tow sat at the back of the bus with the smelly chap and continued to treat the service with loud derision and complaints. Thankfully they got off in Wittersham, and the remainder of the passengers breathed a collective sigh of relief.

After a few lovely hours in Rye, we meandered back to the bus stop and waited for our bus. As it arrived, the driver went over to another bus in front where another driver was showing him the route he was going to have to take on the new bus. Then the other driver came over to our bus and took over. Meanwhile a couple of official-looking guys in hi-vis jackets, short-sleeved white shirts and carrying clipboards moved frantically from bus to bus to ensure that each driver was on the correct bus and they each knew the routes they were to take. On the way home the driver had to ask passengers that wanted to get off in Iden where the actual stop was as he was a tad unfamiliar with the journey. Again, these are all natural occurrences when you change bus companies literally overnight. It just seems to be the British way to complain unnaturally long and loudly about things that essentially we have no control over, and to tackle the people that are just cogs in the machine and cannot control what is happening any more than they can.

British people! Listen to me! Chill the hell out! It's just a bus ride. There'll be another one along in a minute.

Hooked

2011-08-01T20:56:00.002+01:00

What makes a great pop record? Great lyrics? Maybe. Great production? Perhaps. Great musicianship? Possibly.

Arguably the thing that most defines a 'great' record is a great hook, or a great riff. And it's debatable, but a simple, catchy hook that builds on itself and mutates into something grand and unforgettable is possibly the best of all. I shall give you two examples:

Today's Ramble

2011-07-25T22:33:00.000+01:00

So I was sitting and idly reading through some of my old blog posts and I said - y'know, Jeff, you're a funny old bugger. Honestly, some of the stuff I write about! Goodness gracious! To say I am eclectic is to say that the Blue Whale is quite big. But it came upon me time and again that the funniest and arguably the best posts are usually the free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness rambles that sort of start from nowhere and take on a life of their own. Sometimes I don't even have a clue what the heck I'm going to write about or even the point of it all until it's all over. But that, mes amis, is just the way I like it. It's the way I converse naturally, especially with family members, so why not?

My girlfriend Laura has time and oft commented that listening to my sister and I have a conversation is one of the funniest things ever (or words to that effect). And I think it's probably to do with the fact that we have a shared experience (our childhood) and the fact that we like a lot of the same things and find a lot of the same stuff funny, so we have our own little references to things, like little in-jokes. But unlike ordinary in-jokes where the joke is kept private, part of the fun is in explaining the source of the joke to others, because it's usually a great story. I also have an active imagination and a liking for somewhat surreal humour. So add all those ingredients together and whaddya got? Lil' ole me.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, rambling. I was rambling about rambling. So let's cut the preamble and amble down a ramble, or the whole thing will be a bit of a shambles. Oh, and watch out for the brambles.

I was thinking about this whole Amy Winehouse thing. It's the same old story, isn't it - troubled artist, addictive personality, prodigious talent, dead at 27. Many other ~~no-talent hacks~~ writers have remarked upon the fact that other tortured souls before her had died at the same age - Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison being the four well-known ones, but the "27 Club" as it became known contains other notables, and not just musicians either. Poet Rupert Brooke, dancer William Lane (aka "Master Juba") and Joseph Merrick the Elephant Man being other examples. More recent additions include Kurt Cobain and Hole bassist Kristen Pfaff. Others include blues legend Robert Johnson, Dave Alexander of The Stooges, Ron "Pigpen" McKernan of The Grateful Dead, The Manic Street Preachers' Richey James Edwards (OK, that's a tricky one; he's only missing, presumed dead, and he was 27 when he went missing. However, the circumstances were freaky - his car was found abandoned and all signs point to him jumping off the Severn Bridge - but the band has kept paying royalties into his bank account for him should he ever turn up alive) and Echo & The Bunnymen drummer Pete DeFreitas. All 27. Every single one.

Reading a list like that, it kinda makes you glad to be older than 27, doesn't it? Dangerous age to be. Of course, the list is not confined to musicians and sideshow freaks. Andrew Cunanan, the guy that killed Gianni Versace, too. Steve Olin, baseball player. Pat Tillman, football player. Andres Escobar, Colombian soccer star. Actor Jonathan Brandis. Henry Moseley, English physicist. Bobby Sands, IRA hunger striker. Jean-Michel Basquiat, for Pete's sake. All of them gone at 27. Blimey.

So what exactly is my point? I dunno. I cannot draw any definite conclusions from any of this. So why am I writing about it? Well, ya gotta write about something. You can't just leave your faithful public waiting and waiting, you have to get out there and publish, dammit. I wish I were more disciplined about my writing, but I have so many passions and likes and dislikes and other stuff whirring around this strange grey glob (well, I assume it's grey - it might be turquoise for all I know) inside my cranium, and so much other stuff to fit into my day that it's a wonder I can even walk and chew gum at the same time. In fact, it's a wonder any of us can. (In case you're wondering, yes, I can.) The whole Transition Town thing is becoming a major part of my life and I don't want to stop, because I need to get the group to a level where it can sustain itself without me at the helm. I love what I'm doing, and I want to follow through on what I started, because i truly believe we are making a difference. As the great German writer, pictorial artist, biologist, theoretical physicist, and polymath Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe once declared, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic and power in it. begin it now."

The Look Of Success

2011-07-23T22:30:00.000+01:00

So the news lately. Wow. Murdoch. Cameron. Amy Winehouse. Norway. Just kinda makes ya think, doesn't it? Doesn't it? Oh, it doesn't? Well, that's just you. It does me. It makes me think... what a bunch of idiots there are out there. I'm serious. I mean, yes, I am shocked about some of it, even taken aback, nay, stunned, but generally, just amazed at the sheer amount of people out there who are just arseholes.

Take politicians for example. Take them out and break their thumbs. I am serious. It seems that the overriding quality one has to have to be a successful or enduring politician is to be an utter cock. Talk crap, have the look of a guilty Airedale that has just pissed on your front doorstep, and be in cohoots with every shifty-eyed journo, dribbling lobbyist and corrupt banker you can lay your greasy mitts on. For an example, look at this guy...

This dude...

In fact, all this lot...

Even this guy.

Would you trust any one of them to even sit on the toilet the right way round?

100 Records That Shook The World, #39

2011-07-23T21:53:00.000+01:00

Music Of My Mind (LP)

Stevie Wonder

Music Of My Mind, Stevie's fourteenth LP, was released in March of 1972 when Stevie was just 21 years of age. It is only the second of his LPs where he had the majority of artistic control and one that showcases his early synthesiser work. Although not an LP that features many big hits (the exception being "Superwoman (Where Were You When I Needed You)") it is considered by many to be one of the most influential Soul/R&B albums of all time, and featured at number 284 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list.

Enjoy.

Gotta Love That Red Tape

2011-07-16T22:47:00.004+01:00

There have been a lot of days recently where I haven't written when I could have written, but I've been finding it hard to focus. You see, I have a lot going on in my life right now. I have taken it upon myself to start a grass roots movement in my town. It was a spark of an idea, a flash that came to me on the way to work one day when all these disparate elements melded in a blinding realisation and I finally knew what the hell it was I was put here to do. I'm not talking about a religious experience or even an orgasm. Just a clear moment when I realised that if nobody else was going to get up off their fat arse and do it, then i would have to be the one to get up off their arse. And now I have all these people joining me and we are actually getting some shit done. People of note are sitting up and taking notice. And of course, people are also calling me and complaining. Because try as one might, whatever you do in life, at least one person will take offence or be annoyed or something. But you know, it's like Abe Lincoln said, "You can't please all the people all the time, so tell them to sod off." Or something. He also said, as I recall, "Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes."

But grumpy people of one form or another are always likely to infest your life. And the problem is, grumpy people do not understand that by being grumpy, they'll make you grumpy. So then you'll vent to someone about how shit it is to be grumpy, and in doing so, you'll make them grumpy. In the end all you have is just one great big old grump-fest. Which sucks.

I try to start every day with an open mind and a positive attitude. Sooner or later, though, someone or something will mess it all up. It could be someone moaning and complaining about something at home, in the street, in the shop, at work, or wherever, or it could come in the form of a letter from the Dept. of Work and Pensions. The DWP. What a bunch of bureaucratic bumholes. Let me tell you a story.

I applied on June 14th for Job Seeker's Allowance. I used the 'online application' method, because this was supposedly 'faster'. I received a phone call 2 days later telling me that if I could come in for an interview on the 20th, that would be great, oh and could I bring with me my birth certificate, driving licence, all the payslips I had ever had, my CV, and since I was living with a single mum with 4 kids, could I please bring all of her stuff too, plus about 15 pieces of mail, her ID and the fingernails and DNA samples of all the people she had ever come into contact with if it wouldn't be too much trouble thank you kindly.

And of course, I accepted this.

I duly went in with about 4 mailsacks full of info to prove

who I was
who she was
who her kids were
where we lived
my bank info
her bank info
the length of my wedding tackle
how much benefit we were both receiving and why
the names and breeds of all the pets we had ever owned
and above all, what it was that had caused me to even BE unemployed anyway.

Generally speaking the people I came into contact with at the Job Centre (well, it used to be called the Job Centre back in the grim grey days of the 80s when I was fresh out of school - nowadays it's called JobCentrePlus! because it's hip and happening and now and fresh and they're all down wiv ver kids lingo and all dat shizzo. Aight?) were quite nice and friendly. They were all very understanding and I was assured that once they had processed all the information that we'd supplied on the convoluted forms in which they needed to know the ins and outs of a monkey's arsehole, a decision would be made about precisely which benefit (and how much) I would be entitled to. In the meantime I had to keep coming in and signing on in good faith that eventually they would get their fingers out.

Time went by.

After a few days my girlfriend started to get a little concerned about the fact that we hadn't yet heard a word from the powers that be. I assured her that this was perfectly normal, I'd done this last year and it usually takes a while for them to notify you by mail.

Time went by. I signed on again. I said, "I say, chaps. I haven't been informed about my rate of benefit?" to which I was told, "All in good time, sir. All in good time. Fret not."

More time passed. Now we were getting seriously peeved. I called them and after waiting for ages with Vivaldi on a loop I was transferred from pillar to post and even though everyone I spoke to was nice and polite, not one of them could see on their computer screens what the holdup was, though all concurred that yes, this was taking a long time, and normally an application is processed within 11 working days. They did say, though, that the processing centre for the Kent region had been moved from Ramsgate (in Kent), to Stratford, in Greater London, and that that may have something to do with the delay.

Cut to July 7th. I went in to sign on. Again. The very nice lady whose desk I sat at was having an awful day. The printers were against her. Nothing was working right, and of course SHE didn't know why I had no idea how much benefit I was going to get, or when, or even IF I was going to get it.

On the Friday I called again, and finally they said, well, we see here that a payment is being put through to your bank, covering from the 17th of June (apparently the first three days of a claim are not counted as they are what is termed waiting days) to the 7th of July. Finally. However, this was on Friday, and the money did not show up in my bank till Monday morning.

The next day, Tuesday the 12th, I got what I had been waiting for - a letter from DWP saying how much I was entitled to per week. Great.

Today, Saturday the 16th, I get a letter saying that they will not be able to pay me JSA from the 17th June 2011 because I am receiving Tax Credit. They knew I was getting Tax credit, because that was on one or two or a half dozen of the multiple forms I had supplied them with at the outset. It had just taken this long for a flunkey to notice it. This is basically saying, "We paid you but we made a mistake. Can we have it back please?"

Sorry. No can do. Spent it.

So am I grumpy? Hell no. It's probably only a matter of time before they write to me again, saying, "Sorry, we made a mistake. We can pay you now." By which time I will have a job anyway. Me? I'm as happy as a pig in poo.

So - what's next?

100 Records That Shook the World, #40

2011-07-14T11:39:00.002+01:00

There's a Riot Goin' On (LP)

Sly and The Family Stone

After their first four albums and their amazing performance at Woodstock, Sly and the Family Stone, could, it seemed, do no wrong. However, they moved to LA, got involved with drugs and the Black Panthers, and Sly wanted to record songs that embodied the spirit of the time. It was the end of the Sixties and a lot of terrible things were happening what with the Vietnam War and political asassinations. Epic Records were anxious for Sly to release more product, following the critical and commercial success of 1969's Stand!, but after an 18-month period during which their only release was the single Thank You (Fallettinme Be Mice Elf Agin), Sly himself drove over to the record company with the masters for Riot, much to Epic's relief.

The album, which contained the hit single Family Affair, had a darker, more foreboding, depressing tone, and extensive overdubbing produced a 'swampy' feel to the whole shebang. It has been called one of the most influential albums of its time, and along with Marvin Gaye's What's Going On it captures the feel of that whole time perfectly. In 2003 Rolling Stone placed it at #99 on their 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time.

Enjoy.

100 Records That Shook The World, #41

2011-07-14T11:18:00.000+01:00

Theme From "Shaft"

Isaac Hayes

For the second time the deep-voiced singer-songwriter who was Stax' saving grace after they lost their entire back catalogue to Atlantic Records in 1968 makes the list. He'd saved their butt in '68 with Hot Buttered Soul in which he redefined soul music and singlehandedly invented the slow jam; and now he was doing it again in 1971 with the defining moment in blaxploitation soundtracks. No further discussion necessary - just crank the speakers up and enjoy.

Musical Puzzler: Sting

2011-07-14T11:02:00.001+01:00

Alright folks, it's been long enough. I need to stop fannying around and get my arse in gear. Actually, no, I have been rather busy with other projects of late and I simply have been too tired mentally and physically to find anything to write about. So, we need to get back up to speed. And the first order of business is The Musical Puzzler. I left you last time with what I thought was a fairly easy question to answer. After all, I asked who portrayed 'Ace' in the Who film Quadrophenia. A classic film, and one that anyone with a knowledge of Google would be able to look up. The answer, of course, was one Gordon Sumner, otherwise known the world over as Sting. And no, not Sting from WWE, Sting from The Police! Sting from... well, Sting. Now, I am sure that most people with a knowledge of who Sting is will recall that he was named Sting because when he was a young up and coming musician playing in the working men's clubs in the North of England, he was rather fond of a black-and-yellow striped sweater which earned him the nickname. So that is not the next question. The next question is...

What is the link between The Police and Wall Of Voodoo?

Idiot Music

2011-06-24T22:35:00.000+01:00

So this guy named Virgil Griffith at CalTech has this website he developed called Musicthatmakesyoudumb, where he has collated rather unscientifically a tongue-in-cheek statistical list of what is the favourite music of students at various American colleges versus what their grade averages are, and using those results, he is able to figure out what all the dummies are listening to, and so from this we can draw conclusions as to what kind of music will make you stupid (or, what kind of music is attractive to people who already ARE stupid). He did a similar study of 'Books that make you stupid' also.

Results aside, he raises an interesting point: Does the music you listen to affect the way you think? Most of us have already heard bandied about the notion (that some regard as absolute fact) that "classical music is good for your brain", whether as a brain-boosting office soundtrack or as something that mums should be doing for their developing fetuses or toddling terrors (Baby Mozart) or even "sound as audio therapy" (those kind of CDs you find in places like The Discovery Store or Shared Earth or even shoe stores such as Shoon - you know, where there is a huge amount of CDs on a rack with a little sampler machine that plays snatches of the tracks when you press the pretty button - CDs like 'Latin Jazz Moods' or 'Frog Chorus' or 'Mountain Brook'). For many, it may feel intuitive that listening to complex classical music pieces must somehow be better for one's brain than listening to, say, a simplistic three-chord rock anthem or a Rap track featuring a single looping drum beat with repetitive vocal (or many other genres of current pop/rock/rap music).

Does that truly depend on the song in question, or one's world view, or one's attention to complex subtle nuances that may lie just below the surface of a seemingly trite piece of Pop?

Well, readers, I know you know me. You know pretty much my feeling on the whole thing. And that is that some music will definitely make you stupid. Some of it requires you to be stupid already. And some of it requires a level of dumbness that makes other people wonder how you even make it out the front door in the morning without hurting yourself. And this music is not death metal, not rap, grime, dubstep, not even hair metal or Jessie J. Not Lady Gaga or Beyonce. Not even New Country or The Gilmer Sisters (not familiar? Trust me. They're ex-cousins-in-law, and they think they can sing).

It is the Great British Novelty Record.

From Cockerel Chorus' "Blue Is The Colour" and Brian and Michael's "Matchstalk Men And Matchstalk Cats And Dogs" to Renee and Renato's diabolical "Save Your Love", the record-buying public of this great nation are suckers when it comes to one-off daft tunes, whether the attraction be scarf-waving football chants, stupid dances ("Agadoo", anyone?), heartstring-tugging cutesy children ("There's No-One Quite Like Grandma") or just plain silly ("The Oldest Swinger In Town"), the British charts have long contained at least one bloody idiotic tune, sung by some twat you'll at least take comfort in the knowledge that you'll never hear of again. The prime example of this is when, back in 1981, Ultravox's "Vienna", a track that I think most people can agree is a pretty damn fine piece of work, was kept off the top spot for weeks by the moronic "Shaddap You Face" by Joe Dolce.

So, I think we can draw a conclusion from this, only I'm not sure what it is. It's either that (a) there are loads of dumb people in this country, or (b) something else. Which is weird, because this country has produced some of the finest musicians in history. The Beatles, The Stones, David Bowie, Cliff Richard, Free, The Stranglers, Madness, The Specials, the list is endless. So why should a country full of fine musicians have such weird tastes in music? Search me. I'm gonna dig out my copy of 'Captain Beaky' by Keith Michell and give it a whirl for old times' sake...

Cheese And Mods

2011-06-15T21:36:00.000+01:00

So there were two questions last time:

1) Which one of Alex James' cheeses is named after a New Order song?

Well, that was easy. C'mon, you know you know it. BLUE MONDAY! It's a cheese! A BLUE cheese! You could guess that!

2) Which British actor provided the narration on Blur's Parklife?

That wasn't hard either was it? Phil Daniels! He was in the video.

Phil Daniels had a key role in a movie about Mods and Rockers which I think that any music fan ought to know about - Quadrophenia. The question is - who played the role of Ace in said film?

This Must Be Stopped

2011-06-14T17:59:00.000+01:00

If there is one thing I enjoy, it's when my friends on Facebook tag me in a picture and it turns out to be one from years ago that I had forgotten all about. It's lovely, that sudden rush of nostalgic bliss. "I remember that! That was a fun day/night/holiday/party/whatever!" It's such a good feeling that when your notifications list contains the message "So-and-so has tagged you in a photo", you start to feel good in anticipation.

Recently, however, this feeling has been replaced by fear. Fear that it won't be a great photo you've been tagged in, but one of these suckers...

Now, I don't mind these things, they're harmless enough. That is, until you are tagged in one. Because then every time someone makes a comment regarding this picture, you are notified. Even though you don't know half of the people in the stupid thing, you have to be informed that Joe Whatsisname has commented on a photo you were tagged in. And you don't know which photo that Joe has made a comment about until you go check for yourself. That's when you find that (a) it was this stupid picture, and (b) Joe (whom you don't know) has made some inane comment like "Wtf lol" about someone else you don't know. The only people you know in the pic are yourself and the twit that tagged you. And all you can think is, "That's 30 seconds of my life I will never get back."

All those 30-second picture-checking wastes of time add up, until over your entire lifespan, you find you've lost an entire day getting excited for no reason from checking to see which photo you were tagged in or commented about. This is why this kind of thing must be abolished forthwith. Trust me, there will be lots of teenagers who will be pissed off, but they'll thank us in 30 years time when they are a day better off for not having to have endured this time-wasting misery. That's right. They will have a parade and a big party to thank us for giving them the gift of time. "Thank you, old people," they will say. "You saved us from thousands of potentially stress-related ailments, all because you abolished those dopey TagMyPals pictures on Facebook." To which their kids will retort, "WTF is Facebook yo?" or some such 'yoof of today' type remark.

The Bank Job

2011-06-10T09:27:00.000+01:00

Just going through my emails this morning and I find one from a job search site that I have subscribed to (a free one, of course - I am not going to pay to find a damn job!). Usually they come up with "local" jobs that turn out to be anything but - last time they sent me one from Milton Keynes, which is about as local as commuting to Gatwick. The French coast would be closer. Anyway, the one this morning was actually in Ashford! Yay, I thought. A job that's only a short drive away (about 14 miles). So I click on it and of course it's a job for a cashier in a bank. Which would be okay, I suppose. They'd obviously train me. I'd be indoors. Sitting down.

But it was the wealth of politically correct doublespeak that one has to wade through to get to the actual information about the position (not 'job', it has to be a 'position') that floors me, not to mention the ocean of positive spin they have to use to get what could be a really dull job sounding like an amazing and exciting 'opportunity'. For example:

"Our client, a large and very successful financial services provider, is looking for a strong targeted sales and service candidate who can help provide that customer experience and spot opportunities - to help make and save them money. " (Meaning: "Big bank needs a cashier. Preferably able to read and write. Ability to talk semi-coherently a plus.")
"This in-branch role is at the sharp-end of relationship building." (meaning: "You will be dealing with Joe Public.")
"It’s all about taking time to understand each customer’s individual needs and helping them to make the right choices from our excellent range of products. " ("make sure you don't screw up.")
"...you’ll not only help them build a great financial future. You’ll also build a great future for yourself. " ("We will try to remember to pay you occasionally.")
"Every day is different for us. Every customer is different too, which is why it’s such an exciting and rewarding place to work." ("We get all sorts of customers, from morons to idiots to outright jackasses. Your reward will be to make fun of them and laugh about it in the break room with your colleagues.")
"Our customers won’t be the only ones who benefit from your knowledge and expertise. More junior team members will look to you for advice and guidance too." ("As soon as you are trained, you will be expected to train others.")
"And because our package includes a generous bonus scheme that rewards individual, as well as team, performance, you’ll get the recognition you deserve as well." ("'Jelly Of The Month Club', anyone?")
"Above all, you need to be driven by a desire to do what’s right for your customers and leave no stone unturned to help them get the best from us." ("Brown-nosers preferred.")
"Our mutual status means we’re here to benefit customers, not shareholders. Our commitment to customers, not shareholders, has always been what sets us apart from our competitors. And now, more than ever, our reputation for being open, honest and trustworthy is helping us go from strength to strength. In fact, it’s made us the world’s biggest building society as well as a major local employer. Underpinning it all is a commercial operation that never stands still. We’re always thinking ahead, aiming higher and sharpening our competitive edge. That’s why we invest in people who are not only proud of what we stand for, but who also have the talent and drive to boost our performance still further." ("That's right, customers, not shareholders! Say it loud! Say it proud! Make it your mantra! Customers not shareholders! Customers not shareholders! We are wonderful! We are good people! We're barely even a bank at all! In fact, we're just giving money away! Customers not shareholders! Customers n....")

Well, I might apply for it. Sounds fun.

100 Records That Shook The World, #42

2011-06-06T11:38:00.000+01:00

Get It On

T. Rex

Originally Tyrannosaurus Rex, with long album titles such as My People Were Fair And Had Sky In Their Hair...But Now They're Content to Wear Stars On Their Brows, playing rock'n'roll-influenced folk, gradually getting into Middle Eastern mythology and baroque, lush and somewhat surreal songs, by 1969 Marc Bolan's band had become favourites on the Peel show and around the student union halls of the UK. However, after a disagreement between Bolan and percussionist Steve Peregrin Took, they reinvented themselves as T.Rex and embraced the glam-rock phenomenon head-on.

Coming from their 6th album Electric Warrior, the single "Get It On" (which had to be retitled "Bang a Gong (Get It On)" in the USA to avoid confusion with a song by another band) was the second Number One single for T.Rex (the first being "Hot Love"). It's also the song that all but ended the friendship between Bolan and DJ John Peel, because Peely had said he didn't really care for the song on air when he played the advance copy. There was also some confusion about the piano glissando on the song because Elton John was miming the piano part on a TOTP appearance; however it was Rick Wakeman who performed the small piano part, being at the time desperate to pay his rent!

It stayed at number 1 for 4 weeks in the summer of '71. It remains one of the greatest guitar tracks of all time.

Here's the song, with Elton John miming the hell of the ol' joanna.

Suddenly, Seymour

2011-06-06T11:04:00.000+01:00

Last time on the Puzzler I asked you guys what the original name of the band Blur was. Those who know state that it was in fact Seymour.

Good ol' Blur (Damon Albarn, Dave Rowntree, Graham Coxon and Alex James) formed in 1989 and called it a day after seven albums in 2003. They reunited in 2009 for a series of successful concerts. Albarn was the co-creator and only permanent member of Gorillaz, and he's also recorded solo and guested on various other bands' songs; Coxon has released solo material and is also a visual artist; Dave Rowntree is a member of The Ailerons and is also a computer animator; and Alex James is now an award-winning cheesemaker, and is playing host to the Harvest festival which features live music and the best of British cuisine side-by-side in a festival setting on his Oxfordshire farm.

Question (this should be fairly easy...): Alex named one of his wonderful cheeses after a New Order song. Which song? (c'mon, you can probably guess this one!)

Alright, you want a harder question? Okay, which British actor provided the narration on the song Parklife?

It's In The Game

2011-05-31T21:44:00.000+01:00

Here's another entry in the "I'm an old fogey" category: video games.

The reason I don't like modern video games and the way they are played is because I was around for the first ones. I was in my early teens when Pong and Asteroids and Space Invaders came along. My sister won a game console in a competition and we spent hours playing Table Tennis (singles and doubles) and Tank Battle on our black-and-white telly. It was new technology. It was exciting and fresh. And as we progressed through Pac-Man, Defender and Galaxian, we loved it. Even in the early 90s playing on a friend's NES ("Duck Hunt" with the bright orange pistol) and Sega ("Sonic The Hedgehog", "Road Rash"), to my own N64 with games like Mario 64, Polaris Snowcross and Madden NFL 99, it was still cool. I then owned a GameCube which I loved to play Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2005 on. But in the last couple of years I have started to really abhor the new video games. I shall now lay out my objections to them one by one.

Too real-looking. In the old days you knew you were playing a game because it didn't look real. These days you could be forgiven for thinking you were watching a movie, especially since some of them have so much prologue before the actual game starts you could take a nap and still wake up in time to throw the first punch.(Yeah, Mortal Kombat, I'm talking to you!)
Back in the day you lost and that was it. Then they started giving you 'extra lives'. Nowadays (Mortal Kombat again), you can get knifed in the throat and eye socket and have your sternum crushed by a heavy boot and still get to wake up and fight again. The same thing occurs in Call Of Duty: Black Ops. You can get shot and be revived by a comrade. What's the deal with that?
Bizarre scenarios that make absolutely zero sense. In Call Of Duty:World At War there is a subsection called Nazi Zombies in which you and a buddy defend yourselves against undead Aryan stormtroopers who want to eat your brain. I'm sorry, I've read a lot about WW2, but that part I missed.
Too confusing. Too fast for my addled 45-year old brain to cope with. Watching a teenager play these games and seeing their reactions to the rabble-babble hubbub on the screen can make you go bonkers. You just sit there thinking "What happened there? Why did he get angry just then? What the hell is going on?"
Split screen makes it even worse. I have enough trouble following the action on just one screen, without there being two or more.
Xbox Live. The other day I was watching Jack playing some shoot'em up game online and hearing these braindead American teenagers mumbling random nonsense at what must have been 5 am their time. I just wish we'd had our mic plugged in at the time. I wanted to yell at them to get a life or a girlfriend or just go to bed.
Too much blood. In the above games when someone gets killed, shot, wounded or even lightly grazed, it seems to produce blood spatter of the kind that forensic investigators dream about finding. And the funny thing is, it never seems to stain the flooring, ever. It just disappears.

Another realisation hit me the other day which was that I am not much into playing video games with others. Watching Matt and Ewan and their buddies play games in multiplayer mode, yelling insults at each other the whole time and telling each other "No no NO NOOO!!! Don't go in there!!! Shoot him!!! In the head!!! NOOOOOO!!!" made me realise this. I have always enjoyed video games more when I am playing against the computer. Same goes for card games. Much more into solitaire than rummy or poker.

A lot of people think video games are bad because you are sitting indoors the whole time and not getting any exercise. Well, that argument used to hold water before Wii Sports, the Wii Fit and the Xbox Kinect. But I think the thing that I dislike most about video games is the "first-person shooter" games. I like strategy and puzzle type games such as BrainAge, Myst, Riven (showing my age here, but you get the idea). I like having to use my intelligence. If a game does not challenge my intellect in some way, I will soon get bored with it.

But truly the worst games are the ones that have appeared on Facebook such as Farm/Pet/FishVille, Car Town, Cafe World etc. You know the ones. The ones where you are forced into playing it every day otherwise your pet will starve, your farm will dry up, your car will fall to bits or your food will go rotten. You get suckered into upgrading your pet/car/restaurant/aquarium all the time to compete with other players, and if you don't have enough points to buy the latest upgrade, well, no matter, because all you have to do is give them your very real credit card number and you will be charged X number of very real pounds/dollars/yen/rupees/drachma to keep your virtual world in a pristine condition. What's wrong with this picture?

The Thick Plottens

2011-05-25T21:25:00.001+01:00

Never before have I worked for a company that has done such a complete 180 in my estimation of them than the company I am currently employed by (for the next three days, anyway), COOK. I used to like working there. No longer.

COOK gives the impression of being a small family-run company and we're all just important cogs in the COOK wheel. True, they are relatively small, having only 35 company stores and about 10 franchise stores, as well as about 300 or so farm shops that carry a small selection of our stuff. They produce cutesy little newsletters with fun and jokey articles for the staff. Edward, the founder, is still only 40, having come up with the idea for a frozen food company about 20 years ago with his chef friend Dale, opened with just one store, and built the thing from there. True, the food is damn good. It looks to the outsider like one big ol' happy family.

But on February 5th, Edward, en route to the airport and anxious not to miss his flight to Mombasa, bless him, stopped by our shop to tell us that we were going to close this summer. I was not present for this meeting as I was at the bank. I was gone from the store maybe twenty minutes. When I arrived back he'd been and gone. Tom, my manager at the time, told me the sad news. He explained that Edward had said (indeed, this was confirmed later in the day by an official email) that the company had gone to the landlord to re-negotiate the lease, and the rent had been jacked up so high by the greedy landlord that the company had thus decided not to renew the lease and call it a day in our location. Since then, we have not seen Edward. The only people we've actually had a visit from since February have been a girl from HR called Becky, who told us nothing we did not already know, and a couple of people in charge of the farm shops and franchisees who just happened to be passing through and thought they'd stop in and say hi. They did not even know we were slated for imminent closure. That's it. I only met my area manager for the first time a couple of weeks ago. My regional guy, I've only spoken to on the phone once. The only thing I can say about the way my store and its people have been treated is that it's been shabby. We have been made to feel like poor relations. Pariahs if you will. Non-entities. Persona non grata.

And ever since that time, we have been letting people know on a daily basis that we are going to close. Every damn day. And every day, it seems, everyone that comes into the shop is (a) shocked and stunned and alarmed that we are going to close, and (b) convinced that Tom, who is from the Chicago area, is Canadian.

We are now just three days away from closure. Today (Wednesday) I had a day off. Karen, my OCD manic-cleaning area manager, was there at the shop with Rachel. Rachel has been working there for nearly three years, and informed me today that despite her long service, she and the rest of us would not be receiving any redundancy. Karen called me in the middle of the day to let me know that Edward, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that we are to have a delivery tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. Thursday. We close on Saturday. I had been happily watching the remaining stock deplete, emptying freezers and consolidating stock into smaller and smaller areas. Just yesterday I had talked to Karen on the phone and she assured me that she would not be ordering any more stock. But today, apparently, Edward called her directly and ordered that it be done. See, apparently he's been looking at the figures and noticing that recently we have been taking money hand over fist. This is because people know we are closing and are stocking up, obviously. This is not due to any economic turnaround. But Edward, displaying a great sense of business (ha!) acumen, sees an opportunity to make a fast buck and says "Order more stock! It shall be so!"

Order a huge 100-case order, three days before you close your doors forever.

Is it just me?

Not only that, but the order is due to arrive early in the morning so that we don't get trampled underfoot by the teeming throng milling around our shop in the middle of the afternoon. Meaning that I, yes, yours truly, I have to get there at 8 fucking A.M. to open the doors and receive said order. Bearing in mind that I wasn't actually scheduled in till 11:30.

So, lemme get this straight, Eddie babes...

You want ME...

to go to work THREE AND A HALF HOURS EARLY...

to receive a 100-CASE ORDER...

that I DON'T ACTUALLY WANT???

THREE DAYS BEFORE THE SHOP CLOSES FOREVER???

Just because YOU can't get the FUCKING POUND SIGNS OUT OF YOUR EYES???

What an absolute shithead.

The way I see it, I have three options.

1) I could just roll with it. Hey, there's only three days to go, and I am getting paid at acting manager rate.

2) I could get there at the appointed hour, and when my area manager turns up, just hand her my keys and say "Thanks, but no thanks... you take it from here."

Or (3) I could get there at the appointed hour, and when the truck turns up, just refuse delivery.

I mean, what are they gonna do? FIRE ME??

P.S. A little footnote: The company has told us for a long time that the reason we are closing is that the landlords put the rent up, but just today I heard a different version of the story. The manager of the cafe next door talked to me in the street today and asked me what the reaon we were closing was, according to the company. I told him what we'd been told, and he said "Ah, that's bullshit." He said that he'd been told (albeit from an unsubstantiated and somewhat questionable source - his boss, aka our landlord) that COOK had made the decision to close and informed us at the store THREE WEEKS PRIOR to the lease actually being negotiated. This throws a whole new light on things if true, and just adds to the somewhat shady reputation of the brothers Edmonds if false (which I strongly suspect it is).

Musical Puzzler: Big In Japan

2011-05-22T21:45:00.000+01:00

Big in Japan was a punk band that emerged from Liverpool, England in the late 1970s. They are better known for the later successes of their band members than for their own music. According to the Liverpool Echo, Big in Japan were "a supergroup with a difference - its members only became super after they left."

Last time on The Puzzler I asked you if you knew any members of Big In Japan, and of course, my sister did - when it comes to music of that era she has a somewhat encyclopedic brain. So now I shall list for you the members of said band. Some names will be familiar to you, some not so much, but I shall help you, never fear.

Bill Drummond (later notorious as manager of The Teardrop Explodes, founder of Zoo Records, then went on to fame as lead singer of The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu who were later known as The KLF and The Timelords)
Kevin Ward (only band he was ever in was this one, but he later went on to do artwork for many other bands, and then went on to make models for petrochemical engineers)
Phil Allen (brother of Deaf School lead singer Enrico Cadillac Jr., became a session musician)
Jayne Casey (now an artistic director, she left Big In Japan to form Pink Military and then Pink Industry)
Ian Broudie (after Big In Japan he formed The Original Mirrors, then Care, then spent most of the 80s producing material by other bands such as Echo & The Bunnymen, The Fall and The Icicle Works. In 1989 he formed The Lightning Seeds ("Pure", "Life Of Riley"))
Clive Langer (after Deaf School and Big In Japan he went into production with partner Alan Winstanley, producing Madness, Dexys, Elvis Costello and Teardrop Explodes)
Ambrose Reynolds (with Jayne Casey he formed Pink Industry. They also formed their own label, Zulu Records, which in 1984 released an album called The Zulu Compilation. this LP featured an early version of Frankie Goes To Hollywood's Two Tribes. Ambrose then went on to release a solo album consisting of speeches and assassinations from the 1960's set to music. In 1987 he formed Urban Strawberry Lunch, a band specialising in making music from recycled materials.)
Holly Johnson (lead singer of Frankie Goes To Hollywood, he left in 1987 and won a court case against the label ZTT freeing him from his contract. In 1989 he released the album Blast, which spawned the hit Americanos. Since that time he has worked primarily as a painter, although he has released three more critically acclaimed albums. In 2011 he announced plans for a new album.)
Budgie (born Peter Clarke, he joined The Slits after Big In Japan, playing on their album Cut. Later that same year he joined Siouxsie and the Banshees as a temporary replacement for Kenny Morris who had left the band two days into a tour, and ended up staying. In 1981 he and Siouxsie formed The Creatures. He has also collaborated with John Cale and The Indigo Girls.)
Steve Lindsey (the former Deaf School member later formed The Planets, who had a minor hit and TOTP appearance performing "Lines".)
David Balfe (former member of Dalek I Love You, he became keyboardist with Teardrop Explodes and co-founded the Zoo label with Bill Drummond. He later managed the groups Brilliant (featuring later KLF member Jimi Cauty) and Strawberry Switchblade ("Since Yesterday", "Let Her Go", "Jolene"). Next he founded the Food label and signed Voice of the Beehive, Zodiac Mindwarp, Diesel Park West, Jesus Jones, and finally Blur. During the 90s he went into semi-retirement and moved to a house in the country, inspiring Blur's Damon Albarn to write the song "Country House". After two years he took the job of Head of A&R at Columbia Records, signing Kula Shaker.)

Big In Japan only recorded a handful of songs in their brief existence. Here's one of their rare tracks.

OK, new question: what was the original name of the band Blur?

In Case Of Rapture, The Blog Will Still Be Updated

2011-05-20T21:28:00.000+01:00

Back when I used to live in the Deep South, in good ole Jawjuh, I would occasionally see bumper stickers stating "In Case Of Rapture, This Car Will Be Unmanned". I actually found that pretty amusing, but it seemed the reasons I found it funny were not the same reasons other Southerners found it amusing. See, they took it to mean "The Rapture", this sort of mythical happening that is supposed to take place on Judgement Day, when the big guy is supposed to whisk away all the true Christian believers in the blink of an eye, all the way to Heavenland, and the rest of us poor schmoes are meant to be 'left behind'. So they thought it was a little bit of good ole clean-livin', healthy Christian humour, whereas I took 'rapture' to mean 'ecstasy', as in something sexual, which would be funny. I mean, the thought of someone reaching the point of rapture behind the wheel, brought on by a quick blowie by their passenger, was quite whimsical.
Tomorrow, the 21st of May 2011, the world is supposed to end. Well, not end, but the Rapture is supposed to occur and all those annoying true believers will be out of our lives forever. Good idea. But who has come to this conclusion, and why?

"I'm an old goat."

Well, blame a guy called Harold Camping. He's an 89-year-old ex-engineer who, perhaps inevitably, lives in California. He's studied the Bible intensely, particularly the Book of Ezekiel. He had to consider the Great Flood, which possibly happened around 4990BC, depending on whose estimations you go by, and then there was the timing of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt. Not forgetting a bit of number-crunching that involves equating one day to 1,000 years. So he had his work cut out. But he thinks he's got it right, and if he is, at 6pm tomorrow dozens of people will just disappear.

If his calculations pan out, people will just rise up into the air and look down on the ensuing panic as the Lord Almighty smites the shit out of the rest of us. Earthquakes, fire, brimstone, the whole Biblical lot.
"Everyone will be weeping and wailing because they'll know in a few hours it'll come to their city," Camping told the TYT Now online news show. "It's going to be a horror story of tremendous proportion." Cheery soul, ain't he?

People are taking this seriously. Some have given up their jobs and donated all their money to pay for Camping's "Family Radio Worldwide" to put up more than 2000 billboards across the US that say "Judgment Day: May 21, 2011 – Cry mightily unto God. THE BIBLE GUARANTEES IT!" Other loons are sporting T-shirts that say much the same message. They've said goodbye to family and friends, some as far back as two years ago. Callers to Christian Radio Stations are in a panic about the whole thing too, one caller in Oregon wondering aloud if he should arm himself against the people in his street that were doomed and possibly feeling jealous of all the peeps who've found the Lord.

Even some nonbelievers are getting in on the act. Atheists are throwing "after Rapture" parties to celebrate the departure of the religious – or at least Christians – from their midst. Good idea.

Now before you start panicking, let's just back up a little. Mr. Camping has predicted the end of the world before. In 1994, it was. Of course he blamed that on an error in the calculations but says that now he's definitely right and there is no possibility of error because all the information has come from the Bible, and naturally there's no way that can be wrong, is there?

Besides all of his faultless calculations, good old Harold has tons of other evidence to back up his claim. He says that the re-establishment of Israel is a surefire sign that the end is nigh. He says the recent earthquake and tsunami in Japan is just a taster of what to expect come Saturday dinnertime. He also claims that the rise of the Gay Pride movement and same-sex marriage is one of the biggest signs of the return of Jesus.

But get this. H.C. is just going to sit at home while chaos ensues and watch it on telly. As for his eight kids, only one of them believes dear ol' barmy dad.

The Continuing COOK Saga

2011-05-15T14:21:00.002+01:00

What the shop looked like when it first opened less than three years ago.

I've wittered on recently about the goings-on at the shop where I work, COOK in Tenterden. We know now what our final day is - we've been given an official date. The 28th of May will be our last day. I've mentioned the multi-hued reasons for why we are closing, but what it simply boils down to is this - we cannot afford to stay there. We've been struggling to make the numbers for a good few months, but when the company went to the landlords in the early part of the year to re-sign the lease, the landlords had decided to increase the rent (some say it was almost doubled), and the company decided not to renew as we cannot possibly run at a loss. This makes perfect business sense. You cannot spend more than you earn, anybody knows that.

Then I reported on the circumstances surrounding the closure of Shelly's Tea Rooms, our next-to-next door neighbour, under the same landlords, who disappeared overnight and the place then reopened a mere 19 days later as The Cellars Ice Cream Parlour, owned and operated by guess who? The landlord.

At this point I should tell you that our landlord is one Phil Edmonds, who along with his brother Pierre own most of the buildings in this town and seem to not be content until they own all of it and put one of their businesses in every place. Phil Edmonds used to be a cricketer for Middlesex and England, and was pretty good at it, by all accounts. He famously started to read a newspaper while fielding during a particularly slow match against India in the mid 80s. Colin Bateman, in his 1993 book If The Cap Fits states that Phil could be "cussedly abrasive or engagingly charming, but he could never bring himself to conform to the fist-clenching, grim-faced trait of most professional sportsmen". He was England's most successful slow left arm spin bowler during the 80s, though he played less Test cricket than he might have done because he was perceived by selectors to be "difficult". In 2008 Mr. Edmonds came under fire for investing £120 million in Zimbabwe and for having links to individuals close to President Mugabe.

In his post-cricket career, Mr Edmonds has become the multimillionaire chairman of Central African Mining & Exploration Company (Camec), which bought a platinum mining business in Zimbabwe. Mr Edmonds was born in Rhodesia, which became Zimbabwe in 1980, and has retained close links to Africa.

The Edmonds Bros. own various properties in the area, one count being as high as 103 separate buildings. I should add, however, that this figure was just given to me in passing by a shop customer and is not substantiated, but I can sure believe it. Phil Edmonds has long been investing in property under such names as Grosvenor Land and Property Internet. However, I am not here to talk about their business dealings, and all of the above and more can be found on various sites on the Internet just by Googling Phil Edmonds+properties. So I am not telling anyone anything new, and I want to make that perfectly clear, because I don't feel like getting sued.

What I am here to talk about is what occurred yesterday. Yesterday was a Saturday and as I am pretty much running the show by myself on Saturdays now, my Area Manager, Karen, came down to help me. She's a little bit OCD, is Karen. She cannot relax and has to be doing something otherwise she'll go a bit mad. So she cleans things. And as our store is not always the busiest, she was doing a LOT of cleaning.

Outside the front door of our shop, the cafe next door 'Savannah' (an Edmonds-owned cafe), places tables either side of their wrought-iron railings. Karen was cleaning the front step with a broom and a bucket of hot soapy water just as the manager of Savannah was putting the tables out. She asked him if he could not place them there at that moment as she was cleaning, he said no, he had to put them out there, and things got a little heated between them. Long story short, he placed a call to his bosses.

I should back up a little here and let you know that on Friday afternoon Savannah placed an extra table, replete with chairs, menus and sugar caddy, outside our shop, directly in front of our window, on the other side of our 'A' board. I was mightily annoyed. I mean, I understand that Edmonds owns the property, but he can at least let us leave with a bit of dignity before clustering the pavement with his godforsaken tables and chairs. Nobody sat at the damn thing anyway.

Back to yesterday, when a little later in the morning I noticed The Brothers ~~Grimm~~ Edmonds, seated at one of the Savannah tables. I pointed them out to Karen. A few minutes later, as if by magic, in strolls Phil with Pierre directly behind him. Both these guys are over 6 feet tall and barrel-chested. In a scene that felt like something out of a '30s mobster movie, they came and loomed over the counter, muttered a couple of pleasantries and then said in their southern African burr, "So what was with the altercation with our guy?" Karen then went on to explain the situation and that we were highly aggrieved about Friday's extra table placement, even going so far as to walk outside with them and demonstrate exactly where the problem lay. They explained, or rather Phil did, that our lease only extended as far as the front door of our shop and that the pavement was theirs to do with as they wished. They added that as soon as we were closed they were intending to put even more tables out front as well. Karen's body language changed from one of explaining our position to one of 'OK, whatever' and she came back in and gave me a look that said "Unbelievable". Karen later rang head office to check on the terms of the lease. We're not certain. we didn't get a definitive answer, but if the company really did sign a lease with the fine print saying that we don't get to use the front forecourt, then whoever signed it needs their head testing.

That's fine, Phil. Do whatever the hell you want. You're right, you DO own a lot of this town. But you do not own its people. I have had conversations with various people over the past few months who either work for or have worked for Edmonds in the past, including staff at his luxurious London Beach Hotel in St. Michaels, which somehow got the go-ahead despite being located directly behind another existing hotel. All those I have talked to have agreed on one thing and I'm sure you can probably guess what it is. To me, they are nothing but school bullies in grown-up clothes. Nobody seems to like them, and they seem not to care. All I can do is just remember the old adage, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall". I love this town and care about it deeply. It's my hometown and I hate to see it filled up with a bunch of useless coffeeshops, dress shops, antique shops, giftie shops and estate agents, 90% of which are under the ownership in one way or another of Phil and Pierre, when it used to have useful shops like bakeries and greengrocers and ironmongers and butcher shops in it. The only people that have a use for all the crap in this town now are tourists. I want my old town back. Instead it's in the hands of two guys with more money than they can possibly spend, that don't appreciate anything they have and are only interested in how much money they can make from it.

Criminal Records

2011-05-11T20:56:00.000+01:00

If there is one thing that my regular readers will have figured out about me, it is that I am passionate about music. I like many different kinds of music, many genres and sub-genres, in fact you can name any style of music and I will immediately name a song from that style that I like. But I, and I am sure many of you, feel that there are certain songs that are so perfect, so completely brilliant in their original form, that to cover them would be a crime. Certain songs are brilliant any way you do them, but others do not deserve to be covered by anyone for any reason. Is this leading up to a rant? You bet it is.

I am sure the more perceptive among you will remember The Corrs? That bunch of 'talented' women who annoyed the bejeezus out of us all a few years back by imploring us to "go-ooh on, go-ooh on!! Leave me breathless!!", which sounds like an invite to strangle them, really, when you think about it. And I wanted to, every time that damn song came on. We-eeeelll... Andrea Corr, of said band, has gone and committed a crime against music. Not her first offence (she recently attempted John Lennon's #9 Dream). But she has done the unthinkable by recording a cover version of The Blue Nile's Tinseltown in the Rain, a song I love, a song which should not be performed by anyone other than The Blue Nile. She's taken a pristine classic from my halcyon days and raped it in a sharing-a-prison-cell-with-a-big-guy-called-Butch-McDick kind of way. She has turned it into such a generic Top 40-sounding steaming pile of sonic dung, it would be like Jimmy Cricket covering Thin Lizzy, or Lady Gaga attempting a Black Sabbath tune. Let me attempt to show you what I mean. Here's the original...

And, if you can bear to put yourself through the following nauseous agony that is this bastardised version, here's the silly Irish bint (not being anti-Irish, you understand. Just anti-silly bints that believe they can do justice to a song of such magnitude, whatever their ancestry).

See? It's this sort of self-deluded belief that you can sing absolutely any song handed to you and make it your own, this sort of X-Factor/American Idol-fueled blind-leading-the-blind I'm-an-artiste nonsense that leads people to do silly things. Like for example, the other day I was sitting in Costa coffee and I nearly lost it. I am sure I am not alone in being a person that picks up on whatever muzak is being played in restaurants and shops, and I simply do not know how other people manage to tune it out. Sometimes it's OK, I hear it and enjoy it if it's a good song, and sometimes I sing along. Other times I hear it and it is inoffensive and so I ignore it. But just occasionally what comes over the speakers make me splutter into my flat white and say "What the???"

Here's what I heard.

YOU DO NOT MESS WITH THIS SONG. It comes as no surprise to learn that Nouvelle Vague have also covered some other classics that should not suffer treatment like this, such as Road To Nowhere, Ca Plane Pour Moi and Blister In The Sun. This sort of stuff makes me want to attack singers with a potato masher.

Just this evening I came home and was told to listen to something, with the vague suggestion that I would perhaps like it. Now, I'm always cautious and wary when this scenario occurs, because all too often I am unmoved, but this was it. This was a cover of a song that should also remain un-messed about with.

Why, Mark, why? You are usually brilliant. You did such a good production job on the new DD album. Why this? Yes, we'd like to stop you.

Some cover versions are good, some are just OK. An example of this is Metallica's cover of Thin Lizzy's "Whisky In The Jar". It's alright, but the Thin Lizzy version (itself a cover of an old folk tune) is the best. It was unnecessary at best for Metallica to cover it. But it was the video, playing on TV the other day, that made me mad. It turned me into my Grandad, when he witnessed the video for Bad Manners' Walking In The Sunshine during which the drummer plus drum kit floating on a raft in the sea tip over to be engulfed by the crashing waves. Oooh, he was so mad. "That's a perfectly good drum kit! What a waste! Bah!etc."

The Metallica video shows the band playing in a small room in what appears to be some sort of student bedsit surrounded by scantily clad metalchick hoes, and eventually trashing the room, including the instruments. Trashing a room is one thing, but musical instruments is quite another. Firstly, musical instruments are expensive. "So what?" you say. "Metallica gots loadsa money. They can afford it, dude (or words to that effect). 'Tallica kicks assss!!"
That is scarcely the point. There are many struggling musicians out there who can barely afford to buy a new set of strings for their cheap-ass knockoff Strat copy or a new pair of sticks for their drumming who would have appreciated using those instruments. Besides which, smashing up your gear was cool in 1965 when Pete Townshend and Keith Moon did it. But that was because they (and this is the key point here) did it first! A band such as Metallica who are well-established and have been knocking around near 30 years do not need to increase their coolness quotient by smashing a drum kit or chucking a guitar through a window. Puh-leeze, guys, are you that devoid of new ideas? What's that you say? You are? Well, may as well give it up then. Call the record company and let them know - "Listen dudes, Hetfield here. Uh, we won't be in today - or ever." I tell ya what, if I'd made the piles of money you lot have made and couldn't think of an original idea, I'd make myself a pina colada and go sit out by the pool and play mahjongg. Sounds like a good idea to me. Think about it. Just sayin'. Hey Lars, James, dudes! Here's an original idea... why don't you cover a Lady Gaga tune. It'd sure as heck be better than Gaga herself singing.

Making The Transition

2011-05-10T21:28:00.001+01:00

I keep hearing the term Transition Towns bandied about, and I must admit I was confused as to what a transition town was, or is, and so I had to do a little reading. A lot of people are like me in that they don't know what it is or that they think they know what it is and think it's a lot of old barmy luvvies who want to knit their own yogurt, give up money and drive hessian cars that run on compost. Other folks get confused and think it's something to do with David Cameron's Big Society. And the truth is, it does share some similarities, in that it's about giving back to the community and doing stuff that will benefit people in the long term... well, that's the idea anyway.

Transition Towns is also sometimes referred to as Transition network or Transition Movement. It is a name given to environmental and social movements founded in part upon the principles of permaculture, and it uses as its basis the book Permaculture by Bill Mollison which was published in 1988. The Transition Towns brand of permaculture uses David Holmgren’s 2003 book, Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability. These techniques were included in a student project overseen by permaculture teacher Rob Hopkins at the Kinsale Further Education College in Ireland, where they wrote an 'Energy Descent Action Plan', which looked at across-the-board creative adaptations in the realms of energy production, education, economy, health and agriculture as a roadmap to a sustainable future for the town. The term 'transition town' was first used by Louise Rooney and Catherine Dunne, two of Hopkins' students. Following its start in Kinsale, Ireland it then spread to Totnes, England where Rob Hopkins and Naresh Giangrande developed the concept during 2005 and 2006. The aim of this community project is to equip communities for the dual challenges of climate change and peak oil.

As you can imagine, back when people first started going on about this sort of stuff it made a lot of other people very nervous, as it sounded all a bit hippy-dippy, but recently the movement has taken off and this is I think due in part to the movement's becoming better at getting their ideas across and making it seem less airy-fairy and a whole lot more practical. The transition concept now seems to translate into 'doing fun and useful stuff with interesting people'.
What sort of stuff? Foraging. Building bug hotels. Planting hedgerows. Thermal imaging to raise awareness of heat and energy loss. Food groups. Plant swaps and sales. Learning how to insulate a loft. Knitting afternoons. Guerrilla gardening. Building worm bins. Arts and crafts. Stuff that's fun and involves hanging out with a lot of interesting and slightly bonkers-in-a-good-way people. The idea of all this being that it's a stepping stone to grander things - rather than fighting against all the big businesses who are causing us to pollute our planet, the Transition mob seek to circumnavigate these structures and seek out sustainable alternatives. Plus, you get to know your neighbours.

So what about the Big Society? What's that all about, yo?
The Big Society was the flagship policy idea of the 2010 UK Conservative Party general election manifesto. It now forms part of the legislative programme of the Conservative – Liberal Democrat Coalition Agreement. The aim is "to create a climate that empowers local people and communities, building a big society that will 'take power away from politicians and give it to people'.". However, opinion is strongly divided as to whether this is a meaningful policy or meaningless political double-speak.

Their plans include setting up a 'Big Society Bank' to help finance projects under the banner of the Big Society. It's expected to begin operations in Q3 2011. Their apparent mission is " to catalyse the growth of a sustainable social investment market, making it easier for social ventures to access the finance and advice they need – at all stages of their development.".

Where's the money coming from, you may ask? Its initial capital is to be provided from money from dormant UK Bank Accounts, and a further £200M from UK banks. The government also plans to encourage some of the £95bn of charitable assets to be invested in the bank. Critics of the idea have said that "it is potentially setting up a system to encourage vulnerable charities to borrow money." The Financial Times noted, "it is a tiny acorn from which it is far from certain that a giant oak will grow." and Management Today says that "There’s nothing wrong with the idea, or the model, or even the pot. But this plan still seems to lack some hard-headed commercial nous" (that's nous rhyming with mouse, meaning "know-how").

What will the Big Society be doing? I mean apart from the bank thing? Well, they intend to bring back National Service.
*sound of needle skittering across record* Whaaaat?
Don't worry, it won't be conscription into the army or anything like that. It's actually more like all those Outward Bound and Duke of Edinburgh's award schemes we knew as kids. It's under the banner of the Prince's Trust, Prince Charles' charity, and it's called the National Citizen Service. It actually sounds really interesting (click the link) and I kinda wish it had existed back when I was in school, because (a) it's free and (b) it looks like you get to do stuff which is fun and helpful.

Among other aims for the Big Society:

Give communities more powers (localism and devolution)
Encourage people to take an active role in their communities (volunteerism)
Transfer power from central to local government
Support co-ops, mutuals, charities and social enterprises
Publish government data (open/transparent government).

Well, I hope it works. It would be a shame if the Government were to screw it up royally. Detractors seem to agree that the whole thing sounds a bit like the Government trying to disguise the fact that they are cutting funding to vital resources by talking about reinvigorating civic society. We shall see. As to the Transition towns idea, I'm actually quite jazzed about it, and kinda want to go out and turn my town into one.

Links:

http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/big-society

http://www.thebigsociety.co.uk/

http://transitionnetwork.org/

http://transitionus.org/

http://www.transition-initiativen.de/

http://transitiontowns.org.nz/

http://bayareatransitionresources.wikispaces.com/

http://transitiontowns.nl/

http://www.villagevancouver.ca/

http://sustainablemaleny.org/

http://www.transitiontownrotterdam.nl/

http://transitiontownworthing.ning.com/

http://www.transition-hythe.com/

http://www.transitioncitycanterbury.blogspot.com/

http://www.transitiontunbridgewells.org/

Enough, Already

2011-05-09T22:01:00.000+01:00

You recall I mentioned in previous posts about the fact that my job is ending because the store I work at is being closed down by the parent company. The reasons are many and varied but boil down to a simple fact: we don't have, or haven't had enough customers. Or, put another way, we are spending more than we earn. As anyone will tell you, this is no way to run a business. There are not enough pounds and pence coming in, and having a rent increase doesn't help matters.

However.

We, the staff of said establishment, have known since February 5th that we are closing. But even as the final date of May 28th staggers like a large drunk ever nearer and unavoidable, it simply floors me that every person that sets foot inside our doors is shocked, stunned, and other words to describe dismay and anger, about our impending and imminent shutdown. They think it's terrible, awful, a real blow, a dreadful shame, what will we do now, where will we go to get our food etc. etc.? Is there nothing that can be done? No - it's too late for that.

Like I say, we've known about this since early February. We've been telling people about it since March. But it's still a total shock and surprise to some folks. But because we the staff have been aware of it for longer, we've had time to grieve. We've been through all seven stages of grief, or however many it's supposed to be. We've experienced the pain, the anguish, the denial, the anger, and the acceptance, and we are now at the stage where we just wish people would shut the hell up about it and move on. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but we are tired and jaded and we just want to get it over with and be done. I am so tired of repeating the same thing day in day out to a bunch of people whom I have never laid eyes on before that claim to be 'loyal' customers, as they produce their clubcard which we stopped issuing 18 months ago. Get over it, people. You will undoubtedly find ways to purchase frozen food not unlike ours after we are gone, whether it be from Jempson's or Waitrose or one of our other outlets of which there are a considerable few.

So today as my manager was not there, being on his hols, and having handed in his notice anyway, I took it upon myself to repaint our outside blackboard signs and decorate them with large messages declaring Yes, we're closing on the 28th, mark it in your calendars, put it in your BlackBerry, tattoo it on your forehead, do whatever the heck you have to do in order to remember it, you bozos, or words to that effect (only a little more polite). I thought, that's done. Now the message is clear. They will undoubtedly get the idea now.

So it was that after work I went to Waitrose to grab a few bits and bobs. As I did so, I passed by two ladies having a chat by the deli counter, and overheard "...and I can't believe it, d'you know, COOK's is closing...""No!""Oh yes..."

My work is done. Message received and understood. Now, can we lay off the tea and sympathy and just get on with shutting it down? Thanks.

Puzzler - Deaf School

2011-05-08T22:25:00.000+01:00

So last time on The Puzzler I questioned you thusly: Suggs from Madness married the lovely Bette Bright. With which band was she the singer?

The answer is Deaf School, a band whose influence is still being felt today. Think I'm kidding? Here's what Paul Du Noyer, founder of Mojo magazine and successful author and journalist, has to say...

"In the whole history of Liverpool music two bands matter most, one is The Beatles and the other is Deaf School. If that seems like a sweeping statement then consider this: after the pop revolution of the 1960s led by The Beatles and other Merseyside groups, it looked as if the city's music scene had dried up forever. But in 1975 there came a motley band of Liverpool art students called Deaf School".

Their sound was a motley collection of styles - pub rock, punk, glam, art-rock - and their members have since become music industry legends. On guitar was Clive Langer, who has since produced (with producing partner Alan Winstanley), the albums One Step Beyond, Absolutely, 7, The Rise And Fall, Keep Moving, Mad Not Mad, Wonderful and The Liberty Of Norton Folgate by Madness, Kilimanjaro by Teardrop Explodes, Too-Rye-Ay by Dexy's Midnight Runners, Punch The Clock and Goodbye Cruel World by Elvis Costello, Flood and Mink Car by They Might Be Giants, Kill Uncle by Mozzer and the seminal Sixteen Stone by Bush - shall I go on?
Then you had the fabulously named Enrico Cadillac who along with Ian Broudie (he of The Lightning Seeds, Care and Big In Japan) formed The Original Mirrors, another highly influential band. The other members - Max Ripple, Steve 'Average' Lindsey, Ian Ritchie and of course Bette Bright have played together in several reunion concerts, although sadly drummer Tim Whittaker died in 1996 and last year we lost the amazing Eric Shark. So - you say you've never heard of them? Not surprising really. They released three albums between 1976 and 1979 - 2nd Honeymoon, the first, actually had a musical composed around its ten songs and performed in Brighton in 1997. The second LP, Don't Stop The World and the final LP English Boys/Working Girls both failed to make any impact on the charts, but English Boys sure made an impact on me when, as a teenager, I found a copy of it in the reduced rack at Woolies, and having heard the name Deaf School bandied about by music papers such as Melody Maker and NME in reverential tones, took a chance and loved it from the first time I put stylus to vinyl. Investigating the previous albums I was quite surprised to hear the diversity and range of the songs. Their entire recorded output was re-released as a boxed set a few years back, entitled What A Way To End It All.

So - the new question... A few lines previously I mentioned that Ian Broudie had been in the band Big In Japan. They were a cult Liverpool band that performed only three gigs and released only seven songs. Can you name any of the other members of the band?

100 Records That Shook The World, #43

2011-05-08T21:37:00.000+01:00

Maggie May

Rod Stewart

Rod's self-penned paean to the trials and tribulations of a love affair with an older woman, apparently based on personal experience. In the January, 2007 issue of Q magazine, Stewart recalled: "Maggie May was more or less a true story, about the first woman I had sex with, at the Beaulieu Jazz Festival." The reference to returning to school in "late September" refers to the Michaelmas term, the first academic term of the academic year of many British and Irish universities.

Initially, Maggie May was released as the B-side to Reason To Believe. However, after a couple of weeks it was apparent that DJs were playing Maggie more frequently, and so the song was reclassified as the A-side even though the it continued to be pressed as the B-side. Oddly, in the days of Top-40 Hit Radio, when songs were released for airplay and to the public on 45RPM singles, "Maggie May" was not edited in any way or fashion. The full 5:15 version was pressed to single, even though its multiple refrains & 5-bar mandolin solo could have been easily taken to edit. Perhaps it was because "Maggie May" was initially only meant to be a B-side single, and many B-sides are left intact without editing.

Speaking of that mandolin solo, DJ John Peel appeared with the Faces on TOTP playing, or rather miming, the mandolin part, even though it was Lindisfarne's Ray Jackson on the record.

The song not only launched Rod as a solo artist, but both it and the album Every Picture Tells A Story were at number one in the UK and US charts simultaneously, as well as spending 4 weeks at the top spot in Australia at the same time.

In 2004, Rolling Stone ranked the song #130 on their list of The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

Enjoy. Here's Rod The Mod, complete with John Peel mugging gamely in the back. At 2'24" look at JP's expression. Priceless.

Bin Watching The Wedding?

2011-05-04T22:02:00.000+01:00

Isn't it weird how weird everything is recently? I mean, Royal Wedding, then Bin Laden, it makes all the weird news items seem, well, not so strange. The Royal Wedding was weird because of all the freaky hats (big ups to Beatrice and Eugenie, you pair of prize numskulls), not to mention Elton John shambling into the church like an old duffer, and the fact that anyone really gave two craps about it. Sorry, I'm not a Royalist, but I have nothing against the Royals, I'm sure they are all wonderful lovely people who've been inbreeding for centuries (it must be like Liberace crossed with the Hatfields and McCoys over there), but I had not one iota of interest. And then there was this wonderfully loony lady.

She definitely needs to up her meds.

There was also all the crap merchandise...

Attractive.

The Papa John's Royal Wedding Pizza. Really.

Thank you, Dunkin' Donuts.

And then of course we have the demise of the world's most instantly recognisable terrorist leader. All the news reports and faked death photos are a bit much. He was armed, he was unarmed, first he used his wife as a human shield, then he didn't, and the headlines (The Sun wins the prize for 'BIN BAGGED' - brilliant guys, just sheer poetry), it was enough to make your head explode like a suicide bomber. So what if there were crap merchandising tie-ins commemorating the death of Osama? What's that ya say? There are?
Yup.

It's odd, celebrating the death of somebody is something that makes folks a little uncomfortable, even if that person was one of the world's most vilified people. But wearing one of the above items or drinking from a mug with Bin Laden's face on it along with the word 'DEAD' is just an updated modern version of the age-old tradition of dancing on the grave of an enemy, isn't it? Plus, it allows greedy entrepreneurism to flourish, good old capitalism at its best. We Westerners know how to stick it to the bad guys, don't we?

But last Friday as the world watched two extremely rich people in expensive clothes get married in a big-ass church surrounded by other rich people in fancy uniforms with medals and bizarre hats, and then driving off in amazing cars, I was at work, all on my ownsome, because my stupid employers decided that some people might for some reason want to drag themselves away from the telly and go into town to buy some frozen food. Result? I took less than £200 in 5 hours. It was boring and pointless. At that point there was only one T-shirt I wanted to be wearing.

A Public Service Announcement

2011-05-02T22:47:00.000+01:00

Do you know someone whose Facebook profile is excessively gushy?

Have they posted profile pics embellished with hearts, flowers, and gooey epithets?

These people need help!

Not only for their sakes, but their friends' sakes too.

I have a friend (no, I do really!) who suffers from this kind of overly romantic champagne-and-flowers kind of affliction. We'll call him Mr. A.

Mr.A constantly posts deeply sentimental status updates and highly heart-and-cute-puppy-laden profile pics of himself and his lady snogging or gamely mugging in a sappy style for the camera, with names attached and words such as 'My Love, My Life, My Everything'. This, to me, is not what Facebook was intended for, and it also turns my stomach. Now I always have regarded myself as a pretty soppy and romantic kinda guy, but Mr. A is not only making the rest of us look bad, he is making us feel nauseous. But he recently posted a pic of the above ilk with the addition of a poem in the lower left hand corner, shrunk down so small as to be unreadable. I blew it up to make it clearer but to no avail.
It's just unreadable garbage. Here, I'll show you. My translation is on the right.

What Is A Soul Mate? (I got that bit).
If you have ground a snode
Bluet he-she removes ait you're knees,
If you have hosed uplift a were
vhe stress a view same.
If you have gob a church
woe woe ne baggage of your heart.
And nob come but shine dangerous
in the awesomeness you've against,
If you bare Bench mask intruder
in the way bon toot co school
To revive a perfect mushroom
Newt as samplings and be had,
I you believe sammies change your life
and simply meals to be
Then you drive barefoot pounts amble create
you satisfaction dusting.

Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? We've all been there.

This madness must be stopped, people. So if you have a friend or acquaintance who suffers from this affliction, go to them, and just gently tap them on the shoulder, and when they turn round - slap a nice gooey cream pie in their face, then give them a wedgie and stick a trash can on their head. They'll thank you for it later.

Thank you for your kind attention.

Indie Name Of Beards

2011-04-29T22:11:00.000+01:00

According to Jack "Skippy" McFadden, head talent buyer at Union Hall and the Bell House, as told to the New York Times: "Beards are like the 2009 version of the anti-guitar solo. In the early '90s, indie bands like Pavement and Sonic Youth made guitar solos obsolete, it was embarrassing to play something that evoked Whitesnake. Today, beards are a way of hiding behind a certain confidence and saying, 'Hey, I'm not a clean-shaven, TV-happy, American-Idol type, I'm more a warm cuddly artist who needs to not attract more attention to the fact that, yes, I'm cute, but I'm a little dirty, kinda like it's 1974.' Also, do you know how much it costs to shave?"

Interesting theory, uh, Skippy. But it's true though - if you have an indie rock band, particularly one of those there popular-type folkwave bands, then one of you will have to grow a beard, or at the very least some serious stubble or a 'tash. Here are a few examples:

Built To Spill:

Not bad. Going for the Deadliest Catch look here, I feel.

Fleet Foxes:

Nice, fellas. Three out of five ain't bad.

The Thrills:

Hmmm. Must try harder. the dude second left is really going for the retro gear, though.

We Are Scientists:

Guy in the middle is workin' it.

Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros:

Wow. I count seven beards, a tash and some stubble. You guys win.

Death Cab For Cutie:

50%. Needs work.

Seems like the key to success here is the hairy face. Sometimes it helps if there's a lot of flannel present and perhaps a woolly hat or two. Glasses seem only to add to the indieness.

Now, where did I put my Gillette Mach II?

100 Records That Shook The World, # 44

2011-04-29T21:29:00.000+01:00

What's Going On (LP)

Marvin Gaye

Marvin Gaye's 11th album "What's Going On" has to be without a shadow of a doubt the absolute greatest Soul and R&B album in music history. It's one of those must-have masterpieces that should be in every record collection. Yes, "Sgt. Pepper" was influential, but "What's Going On" was a different kind of influence. Not to open your mind to drugs, and new experiences, but to open your mind to love and peace. Sly & The Family Stone might have psychedelicized soul music, but Marvin Gaye personalized it, and he literally poured out every emotion onto this record.

In early 1970 Marvin had fallen into a deep depression after the death from a brain tumor of fellow Motown artist and Gaye's singing partner Tammi Terrell. Marvin refused to record or perform and seriously considered quitting the music business altogether, even going so far as to try out for the Detroit Lions.
Gaye then came in contact with musician Al Cleveland and the Four Tops' Renaldo "Obie" Benson, who were working on a politically conscious song called "What's Going On". Gaye assisted Cleveland and Benson in completing the composition, and planned to produce the song as a recording for the Motown act The Originals. However, Cleveland and Benson persuaded Gaye to record the song himself.
In June 1970, Gaye recorded "What's Going On" and his own composition, "God Is Love", which further expanded Gaye's inclusion of his spirituality in his music. Recording such material was a different direction for Gaye, who had previously performed and recorded radio-formatted and contemporary songs that were more representative of the Gordy-produced Motown Sound rather than politically or socially-conscious music. When Gaye delivered the songs as the sides for his next 45 RPM single his brother-in-law, Motown Records CEO Berry Gordy, Jr., objected to the material and refused to release the recordings. After already permitting other Motown artists to record and release material that hinted social and political themes – Edwin Starr's "War", The Temptations' "Ball of Confusion", both released earlier in 1970, and Stevie Wonder's "Heaven Help Us All", released later in the year – Gordy considered "What's Going On" far too political to be released on radio and also too unfamiliar for the popular music and sound of that time to be commercially successful.Gaye, however, stood his ground and continued to lobby his case to label executives and to Gordy, as he did not want to be bound by Gordy's or Motown's version of music.
Gordy eventually gave in, certain that the record would flop. Upon its release in January 1971, "What's Going On" became Motown's fastest selling single at that point, going to the number-one spot on the R&B charts for five weeks and number-two for three weeks on the Pop listings, with "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night retaining the top spot.
Although Motown initially didn't even want to release the record, the unexpected success of What's Going On, issued in 1971, inspired Stevie Wonder, Curtis Mayfield, and just about every other black artist on the planet to take greater responsibility for their music and its meaning. Gaye co-wrote the songs and produced the album, flavouring it with layer upon layer of his own multi-tracked vocals, oceans of hand percussion, strings, flutes, and jazzy horn solos. Spacey and loose as a spliff-fueled Sunday afternoon jam in the park, the nine songs all played like a hit single. There are no pauses between the tracks, the rhythm section just keeps going & flowing and the whole record pushes forward as a real soultrain, weaving songs seamlessly into each other.

The album features three of Gaye's biggest hits [the title track, "Mercy Mercy Me”, and "Inner City Blues"(Make Me Wanna Holler)]. However, after a couple of listens the fact that there are three major hits on here becomes somewhat secondary to the album as a whole. The album is unquestionably an entity in and of itself. Headlines from the early 70’s (the ecology, drug addiction, poverty, the plight of the Vietnam veterans) weave together the backdrop for this album but the album's underlying theme is always one of a hope for a better tomorrow.

Nostalgia Ain't What It Used To Be

2011-04-26T22:24:00.001+01:00

Back in the day when I was but a young whippersnapper, local newspapers, especially the free variety, were an entirely different animal. These days they are glossy and more magazine-like, lots of colour and such. But really not much in the way of substance. Lovely pictures, yes. Lots of info about local happenings, but they all end up being like one giant ad for stuff you cannot afford.

Back when I was young there were three main ones. There was the What's On, a glorified pamphlet really, with a semi-glossy cover which had the same basic artwork of the church on the banner but a different colour every month (yes, it was a monthly) and it was full of info about church services and dispensing chemists and coffee morning and WI meetings, along with ads for local businesses such as Webb's, Knight's hairdressers, Tenterden Taxis and Potter Bros.

Then there was the Ashford Advertiser, a weekly rag with a couple articles of nothing very exciting on the front and classified ads in the rest of it. In the later part of the 80s I seem to recall it was replaced by the KM extra, although it still exists in a wildly different format now, more a magazine-style thing than a newspaper, but printed in basic black and white and only available in the Tenterden Gateway, apparently.

Also in the late 80s appeared the Wealden Advertiser which is still around and is basically the same as it always was with the notable exception that you can now read it online, and some of the ads are interactive! Woo hoo!

The other main free rag from that time was the Adscene which seemed to revel in its glorious cheap-and-nastiness and shoddy writing. The ads were in there just like in the Ashford Advertiser but they used a different typeface to make it look more cool and new, and they made an attempt to include articles throughout, as well as car reviews and entertainment news.

Why am I telling you this? Well, the other day I was helping my Sis have a clear-out of her shed and in there was an old trouser-press which had belonged to my grandparents, who used to live in that house. I could see something sticking out of the trouser-press and so, being a curious chap, I had to open it and find out. There inside were pages from an edition of Adscene dated Friday October 21, 1983.
Hooo boy. Here was a trip down memory lane of the highest order. So let's leaf through these pages and have a looksee what we can find out...

For starters we can see that house prices were wildly different. The three 'Houses Of the Week' listed were a 3 bed detached house with a garage and space for 3 cars in Herne Bay for £37,950, a 2-bed ground floor flat with private parking and a 95-year lease in Folkestone for £24,750 and a Sittingbourne 2 bed end terrace with garage and double glazing for a mere £21,500. Wow.

Next page includes a review of the new Nissan/Datsun Cherry Turbo, 1.5L fuel injected hatchback, an 'exciting sports saloon giving the family man the opportunity to enjoy his driving while still having an entirely practical hatchback for more domestic outings'. Price - a sweet £6600.

At the Renault dealership they were offering a brand new Fidelity Wanderer cordless telephone with the purchase of any new Renault. The Renault 9 Freeway was available for a cool £4995 on the road.

Moving on to the job ads, there seemed to be several openings in the printing industry, for job titles including Paste-up Comp, Process Colour Platemaker andTypographer. Also an intriguing ad for women. "If you're a woman and you want to get into selling, here's your first appointment." bellows the headline, followed by a long bit of guff about 'starting a sales career with Britain's largest professional sales training organisation.' Apparently, ladies, you could 'realistically expect salary, commission and expenses of £6,000 in your first year.' Doesn't that sound exciting?

The Leisure & Information Roundup includes pieces about Kent & East Sussex Railway's Children's Days, a chance to learn all about the harpsichord at Ashford library and a lecture by renowned wildlife artist David Shepherd at The Stour Centre.

Not David Shepherd. Just one of his paintings.

An interesting ad on the same page for a place on Elwick Road named The Wig and Gavel, presumably named because of its close proximity to the Courthouse, states that "The Private Hall of The Wig & Gavel is now available for Weddings, receptions or other Private Functions. Mr & Mrs Stoker now invite you to come and visit the hall in its newly decorated state."

At the Kent Suite of The Top Rank in Ashford High Street was a dance exercise class named "Body Shop", offering 'Dance Aerobics Jazz Ballet, "Funky Disco" etc.'

In the cinema was National Lampoon's Vacation, Flash Gordon, Staying Alive and The Dark Crystal.

Ah! the TV listings! Excellent!

These were the days when we only had 4 channels, and on a Saturday TV started at 6.25 am on TVS with TV-am,

8.25 am on BBC1 with Inch High Private Eye, 10.10 am on BBC2 with Open University and not until 1.55pm on the new Channel 4 with A Kind Of Living. Some of the shows will be very familiar to you US folks, such as Remington Steele, Hart To Hart, Benson, Diff'rent Strokes, Magoo, Hardcastle & McCormick... however the English shows you'll be less familiar with.

My friends over here will probably get a huge blast of nostalgia from these names though... Saturday Superstore, Terrahawks, Hi-De-Hi!, The Noel Edmonds Late Late Breakfast Show, Blankety Blank, Juliet Bravo, Carrott's Lib, Russ Abbot's Madhouse, Game For A Laugh, Brookside, The Sky At Night, Play Your Cards Right, Omnibus, Heart Of The Matter, The South Bank Show and Right To Reply. There were also all the weird and wonderful morning shows on Sunday that covered not only religion and farming but politics (Weekend World) and all those shows for 'minorities' like Digame! and Murun Bucsanstangur.

Sports programming was different too. Saturday lunchtimes were not the same without either World Of Sport featuring the fabulous Dickie Davies on ITV or the Beeb's Grandstand with Desmond Lynam and the wonderful Bob Wilson with Football Focus. This particular weekend featured horseracing from Newbury, International Snooker, Boxing and Darts.

Sunday's TV was always a bit varied, with BBC1 always having an afternoon matinee (Half A Sixpence), period drama (Jane Eyre), a bit of Bonanza, Songs Of Praise in the early evening and some more historical drama (By The Sword Divided).

ITV's programming on Sunday replaced the afternoon matinee with American shows like Battlestar Galactica, quiz shows such as Sale Of The Century and University Challenge and then the early evening brought us another religious show, Highway, then later we'd have Agatha Christie's Partners In Crime and Clive James on Television.

There were always strange late-night shows(Join Us For Bridge, Company)follwed usually by the weather and Closedown, where one would see the station logo (that famous spinning globe or similar) and hear the strains of the National Anthem, followed by a black screen and finally, snow and white noise.

The next pages have articles about a couple who 'plan to beat redundancy' by turning their Tudor cottage into a B&B (not sure if they ever did, but the cottage is still there), a plan to turn a disused school building into a community centre, a club for disabled people looking for more members, and a visit to the Eastwell Manor Hotel by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The Kent branch of the Elvis Presley fan club were planning to hold a six-hour video and disco show devoted to the King.

Then there were some of the recurring ads each week that had memorable names or taglines. "Don't Just Seed It - SOD IT!", "Tip-It Mini Skips" and "Come To Terms With Hartnell-Brede Motors" are ones you just don't forget overnight.

There were full page ads for B&Q DIY Superstore (Shop Late 'Til 8 Monday To Saturday, Vymura £3.75 a roll), and Queensway (Autumn Sale Bonanza, Geneva 3-Piece Suite £299.95) and even Tesco, where we learn that baked beans were 16p a can, 5lb of frozen peas were £1.06 and a bottle of Quosh was 39 and a half pence. You could also buy 4 toilet rolls for 59p. Whoa.

Times have changed and so have we. Prices have risen, places have come and gone but news has essentially stayed the same. The one thing I really do miss, though, is that back in the 80s the free papers and adsheets like Adscene and Advertiser came to your door, and now you have to hunt them down. Finding your weekly copy of the Wealden Advertiser is a weekly ritual, usually involving going to Waitrose or somewhere similar.

Well, I suppose it gets you out of the house, doesn't it?

Musical Puzzler: What's Up, Earthlets?

2011-04-25T21:06:00.000+01:00

I asked a while back on The Puzzler about the record that was made by Carl 'Chas Smash' Smyth and Graham McPherson (aka Suggs) from Madness that was their homage to the comic 2000AD and its 'hero' Judge Dredd. I wanted to know what name the two Nutty Boys recorded the record under, and if you knew it, the title of said track. Well, all is about to be revealed.

The record's title was "Mutants In Mega-City One" b/w "Mutant Blues", and the artist name was The Fink Brothers. No-one other than my sister (who is a massive Madness fan) took a stab at it, so Sis, victory is yours.

Yes, Earthlets, I bought this record.

The Fink Brothers was a side project that Carl and Suggs undertook in 1985 after setting up the Zarjazz record label to expand the creativity of the band into other areas. They were both avid 2000AD readers at the time of this project and they took the name the Fink Brothers from the comic strip Judge Dredd .

Fink Angel and Mean Machine Angel are two members of the angel gang a vicious band of hill-billy mutants from the waste land outside of Mega-city one. Sworn enemies of Judge Dredd, not least because he killed most of their family.

According to Carl, "The word 'Zarjazz' (the name of their record label) is 2000 A.D. talk. It's a word we use when we talk to each other: we used to say 'nutty', now we say 'zarjazz'. It means 'great, 'brilliant'."

So there you have it, people.

Here's the record.

Now, next question:

Suggs married a girl named Bette Bright. With which art-rock outfit was she the singer?

Is It Just Me Or...?

2011-04-21T22:23:00.000+01:00

OK, so I mentioned recently about the impending closure of the shop where I work and the recent closure of our near neighbour Shelly's Tea Rooms in my post Cynical, Me?

In it I talked about one of the employees who were gutting Shelly's and repainting it letting slip that the place was going to be turned into an ice cream parlour. Well, work has been steadily progressing and tomorrow the place actually opens for real. So, let's see... Shelly's packed up and left on the 3rd, tomorrow is the 22nd. Nineteen days have passed by and the place is ready for business. That is going some. I trust I can leave you to your own conclusions as to which pair of large balding obnoxious South African ex-cricketers own the joint.

But leaving all that hideousness aside, I noticed something as I went outside today to have a look at the large gaily painted wooden sign which was waiting to adorn the outside of said emporium. Well, I say 'I noticed', I mean 'it hit me in the face like a freaking Mack truck because it was such a glaring error'. Here is the sign...

Please, please tell me you can see it.

Glad to see Tenterden's finest businessmen going over every detail with a fine-tooth comb. I'll leave you to make up your own jokes.

Referen-Dumb

2011-04-20T11:41:00.000+01:00

On May 5th here in this country there is going to be a nationwide referendum on the voting system for UK Parliamentary Elections. We are going to be voting on whether to change the system from the current system known as First Past The Post to a new system which been christened AV (for Alternative Vote, but I am sure it will be rechristened if it becomes our new system).

There has been a lot of talk from various sides for and against, to the point now where I cannot decide. So many people are undecided. I am sure that it doesn't help that our coalition leaders are divided on the topic. Nick Clegg, deputy PM and LibDem leader, wants it. David Cameron, the PM and Tory leader, does not. As for me, I am really challenged on this, not least because I am not happy with either system and would much rather see Proportional Representation get a shot. But that will probably never happen in Parliamentary Elections because it's, ahem, a bit too fair, lets a lot of minor parties have a better chance and basically scares the livin' willies out of the Tories.

What is AV?

The Alternative Vote (AV) is very much like First-Past-the-Post (FPTP). Like FPTP, it is used to elect representatives for single-member constituencies, except that rather than simply marking one solitary 'X' on the ballot paper, the voter has the chance to rank the candidates on offer.
The voter thus puts a '1' by their first-preference candidate, and can continue, if they wish, to put a '2' by their second-preference, and so on, until they don't care anymore or they run out of names. In some AV elections, such as most Australian elections, electors are required to rank all candidates.
If a candidate receives a majority of first-preference votes (more people put them as number one than all the rest combined), then they are elected.
If no candidate gains a majority on first preferences, then the second-preference votes of the candidate who finished last on the first count are redistributed. This process is repeated until someone gets over 50 per cent.

So what's the problem with this? Well, if you vote for a party and that party gets the majority, then your second and third choices will not be counted. But if your first choice is for a minority party such as The Green Party or BNP, and of course they don't get the majority, then your second and third choices DO get counted until someone reaches 50% of the vote. Some people (like the Tories) don't like this idea because it means that it gives lesser parties a chance. In some respects I can see this side of the argument. No rational person could possibly want to see the racist BNP in power. But at least it is slightly less unfair than the current system, First Past The Post.

What is FPTP?

FPTP, put in as simple terms as I can, means that voters vote for candidates in their constituencies by putting an X net to the name of the candidate they would like to have as their local MP. Once an MP is elected for that seat, all the other votes in that constituency count for nothing. In other words, if you voted for a Labour candidate and the Tory candidate won that seat, your vote would not count towards anything else. An example, you say? In the 1997 election, the victorious Labour Party gained 43.2% of the total votes cast and won 63.6% of seats at Westminster. The combined number of votes for the Tory and Liberal Democrats represented 47.5% of the total votes (nearly 4% more than Labour) yet between them they got 32.1% of the seats available at Westminster.

In the 2001 election, Labour got 43% of the total popular vote whereas all the other parties got 57% - yet Labour maintained its very powerful position in Parliament with 413 MP's out of 659. The same trend was seen with the 2005 election result.

It can be claimed that such a percentage of votes should not have given Labour such large Parliamentary majorities – but the workings of the FPTP system allows for just such an occurrence. In fact, no government since 1935 has had a majority of public support as expressed through votes cast at a national election.

In Proportional Representation each vote would count towards a national total. The party with the majority would be in power, and each party would then be given an appropriate number of seats in the House of Commons. But this system is seen as somewhat 'fringe' and 'loony'. Like most things that sound like logical common sense to me.

I'll be voting for AV come the 5th if only to get rid of FPTP. It won't be my first choice, but my first choice isn't even on the ballot.

I think the best idea would be to do what the Aussies do and fine people who don't vote. Hit all these people who don't believe they can make a difference where it truly hurts - the wallet. And then use the fines to finance our national deficit. Oh, and here's an idea whose time has come - the Robin Hood Tax.

Kan U Spel? Part Too

2011-04-15T21:57:00.000+01:00

Here I am again! Twice in one evening! Can you handle it?

One of the things I have done on this blog more than once is to complain about the English language. To be more specific, the way in which some people see fit to use it.

Yes, it's that time again where Jeff sees fit to correct a few people for whom spelling and punctuation and grammar were just loose guidelines, almost suggestions if you will.

Let's start with one of my personal top hates, and that is the whole "Your/You're" thing.

Your is a possessive. "It is your blanket. It belongs to you. It's yours."

You're is a contraction of "you are" as in "You're on that blanket again. Get the hell off it. You're seriously irritating me."

Then we move on to There/Their/They're.

There has two uses:
   1) to mean a place
For example: The State Penitentiary is over there.

   2) with the verb "to be" (in phrases like "there is", "there are" etc)
For example:There are 268 inmates in the State Penitentiary.

Their  means "belonging to them".
For example: Their car is a hunk of junk.

They're is a contraction of "they are".
For example: They're getting out of the State Pen in three years.

I also get annoyed by "Its/It's".
It's" is short for "it is". As in "It's really aggravating when people cannot write correctly".
"Its" is a possessive, as in "I really hated that car, its engine was a piece of poo."

I also get really annoyed when people write "could of" when what they really mean is "could have". I think this begins at school. Traditionally this gets shortened to "could've" which when spoken sounds like "could of". But any rational person knows that when you look at it, there's no possible way "could of" can make any kind of literal sense.

Another one that raises my hackles is the contraction of "a" and "lot". I read stuff like that all the time. "I've done alot today." It's A LOT. Not ALOT. Alot is not a word. Neither is Nevermind.   Nevermind is an album by Nirvana. Never Mind The Bollocks is an album by the Sex Pistols.

And if you are on Facebook and want to put a word in your status update that you are unsure of how to spell, look it up!! There are tons of dictionaries online, any one of which will tell you that the correct way to describe your girlfriend is GORGEOUS, not GORGUESS or GORGOUSE.

Gah, don't they teach 'em anything in school these days?

Bloc Party

2011-04-15T21:10:00.000+01:00

I just recently came across the term "Black Bloc". It sounds like some sort of terrorist organization, does it not? Well, it isn't. It's really just a synonym for "politically motivated vandal".

Apparently all one has to do in order to be part of this here Black Bloc thingamajig is to turn up at a demonstration or protest march dressed in black from head to foot, with a ski mask or bandanna covering your face and preferably carrying some sort of stick or truncheon. Oh, and it kinda helps if you have a strong desire to hit things. Or people.

Recently here in the UK we have had some demos of a peaceful nature being infiltrated by these asswipes, such as the blockade of Fortnum & Mason (where the Royals do their weekly shop and hampers cost £25k apiece) at the recent march by UK Uncut. UK Uncut were protesting against Fortnum & Mason over the tax dodge of over £40 million by its owners Whittington Investments which have a 54% stake in Associated British Foods who produce Ryvita, Kingsmill and others and own Primark.

These Black Bloc types swagger in, gatecrashing the party as it were, reduce the whole thing to a smash-n-grab and get entirely too much media exposure, and make everyone not involved in the protest think that all the participants are violent morons. Mayor of London and hair model Boris Johnson blamed UK Uncut for the violence, claiming that activists "stormed that building, terrified the staff, upset the customers and caused tens of thousands of pounds worth of damage".

Seems every inch the well-informed type, don't he?

Trouble is this kind of behaviour is somewhat tolerated by some factions of the left wing in the UK, in spite of the bad rep it gives to more peaceful forms of civil disobedience. And the longer they overlook it, the more it seems like they're almost encouraging it. It is ridiculous to tolerate violence just because those who commit it say they are on your side.

And you see, this is where the real problem lies. Because the techniques of Black Bloccers (sp?) are often imitated by undercover police infiltrators who are intent on criminalising legitimate forms of protest and in the process, destroying any sympathy towards the protesters that the general public might have. Since all members conceal their identities, it is harder to recognize infiltrators. Allegations first surfaced after several demonstrations. At the 2001 G8 summit in Genoa, amongst the many complaints about the police there was mention of video footage in which "men in black were seen getting out of police vans near protest marches." In August 2007, Quebec police admitted that "their officers disguised themselves as demonstrators." On these occasions, some were identified by genuine protesters because of their police-issue footwear.

Yes, it's definitely a block of black.

UK Uncut has been surprisingly silent on the whole Fortnum & Mason outrage. They should have swiftly silenced detractors to their cause by quickly speaking out against the Black Bloc, but they have yet to do so. Unfortunately that gives the government a brilliant excuse to curtail 'violent' protests and silence legitimate activists. Pretty soon the only way for an intelligent motivated supporter of social justice to express themselves will be to harrumph loudly or biff themselves or each other over the head with a copy of The Grauniad.

So in summary, if you want to be taken seriously as an activist group, do not tolerate the Black Bloc chaps and chappesses, because all they are out to do is have a bit of a punch-up and ruin your reputation in the process. And to all you wannabe anarchist Black bloccers out there -- go to a football match instead. And Boris - get a decent haircut for Chrissakes, you're enough of a joke as it is.

100 Records That Shook The World, # 45

2011-04-14T12:55:00.001+01:00

Paranoid

Black Sabbath

Back when I was at school in 1979/1980 I was placed in the 'top set' for French. Because of this I was also 'allowed' to study German. The teacher for this subject was a great burly man with a big frizz of wiry salt-and-pepper hair named John Collier. He was also a sculptor and ran the school photography club, which to my very great regret I never joined. I remember one lesson where he had wanted us to be so steeped in the German culture he wanted to hold a wine-tasting session during one of the classes, with wines from the Mosel and Rhine valleys. We duly coughed up our two quid and one lesson he let us sample little nips of these wines. Great news for me, because other people who didn't want to try the wine or didn't like it gave their samples to me. What a great afternoon that was.
Mr. Collier also thought it might be a good idea for us to learn the words of a German pop song, and so he chose one by the band Cindy & Bert entitled "Aber Am Abend (da spielt der Zigeuner)". It was a typically cheesy slice of 70s Euro-crap, and it came as no surprise to learn that Cindy & Bert had been Eurovision contestants. How odd, then to find out that these Euro-cheese exponents had also recorded their own version of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid", re-titled "Der Hund von Baskerville". Wanna hear this masterpiece? Of course you do. Happy to oblige.

Of course this version isn't nearly as cool a slice of rip-snortin' protopunk as the original by Ozzy and the lads. A song that has been placed on too many "greatest Rock song/metal song/guitar song/hard rock song ever" to name, and one that has been re-recorded by Ozzy several times with different lineups of his band. A song that is to the country of Finland what Stairway to Heaven is to Great Britain, and Sweet Home Alabama is to, well, Alabama really. And pretty much the rest of "the Southland" (dammit, I hate that phrase. I mean, whenever it gets used, it's usually a Southerner (by which I mean somebody from the American South) using it, so why the addition of the suffix -land is necessary I cannot imagine. We know what the hell you're referring to, Jethro). But I digress.
I was talking about Finland. Yes, apparently at any given gig by any band in Finland, no matter what style of music the artist plays, the crowd will inevitably include one twat, I mean punter who will shout at some point "Soittakaa Paranoid!" which means "I say chaps,sorry to interrupt but would you mind awfully playing Paranoid for me. Ta ever so." Gotta love them kooky Finns.

Anyhoo.

Paranoid of course comes from Sabbath's second album, also titled Paranoid, an album that has always seemed to me to have one of the strangest examples of cover artwork ever. Apparently the weirdly distorted photo of an oddly dressed sword-wielding bearded guy in a helmet jumping out from behind a tree is meant to represent a "war pig", as in the song War Pigs. To me it's just a weirdly distorted photo of an oddly dressed sword-wielding bearded guy in a helmet jumping out from behind a tree. But that's just me.

The story of how the song came about is one of those chance occurrences that happen from time to time. The band went into the studio after the release of Black Sabbath in early 1970 to record their second album, and had just about completed when at the last minute, as record companies are apt to do from time to time, Vertigo Records requested a single.
As drummer Bill Ward explains: "We didn't have enough songs for the album, and Tony [Iommi] just played the "Paranoid" guitar lick and that was it. It took twenty, twenty-five minutes from top to bottom."

Enjoy.

Brain Droppings

2011-04-12T22:10:00.000+01:00

Here is a compilation of my recent musings on Facebook, and elsewhere.

50 years ago today, they put a man into space. Yet we are still without hovercars and teleport belts. Hurry up, science.
Fashion tip: wearing a trilby will not turn you into Jason Mraz. Thankfully.
Note to Zoe Ball: you are not nearly peppy enough. Try a double espresso.
If it gets any more intense in here, I might just poop my pants.
Boy, the excitement level here is at fever pitch. Time to kick it up a notch, to a frenzy.
Instructions to Nascar driver: keep turning left.
I have only one thing to say. "Ooooh".
The more crap you put up with, the more crap you are going to get.
RIP Sidney Lumet.
who needs biscuits?...
Well, duh...
Total nutball.
Why has the word 'monosyllabic' got five syllables?

Make of them what you will.

Cynical, Me?

2011-04-11T22:31:00.001+01:00

I was just thinking it was time for a good old Jeff rant again, but I was racking my brains - what is it that riles me up recently? Well, I'll tell ya what it is. It's the fact that I have a job I like and can do that isn't too taxing and that gives me the ability to have a life. I like that.

"Well, what's so bad about that, Jeff?" I hear you cry. "Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. What are you moaning about, you whiner?"

Well, you are right. It IS a pretty cool gig, I have to say. But the fact is, it's coming to a close. Finito Benito. Adios, amigos. Gone, and never called me mother. Done.

Yes, head office has decided that they can no longer afford to keep us open what with the current economic climate and the landlord jacking up the rent and all that shamozzle. That's what annoys me.

When our company signed the lease for our shop three years ago, there were some factors they did not count on.
Firstly, they did not know that within a 20-minute drive from our shop, there were not enough of our ideal demographic customers to support us. We live in a town that is picturesque and pretty and surrounded by countryside with lots of rich gentry and nouveau riche commuters. Or so you would think. At least, that's what Head Office was thinking. But within 20 minutes you have the big town of Ashford with its giant ASDA and giant Tesco and other giant stores. Plus you have the ignorance of people who have lived here all their lives and never given us a second glance. I can't tell you how many times I've answered the question "How long has this shop been here?" with "Three years", followed by a surprised look and a sound emanating from them not unlike Scooby-Doo... "Huuhh?". This question has now replaced "Are all these meals frozen?" as the most aggravating one customers ask. I am simply exhausted from answering it.

The company also knew when they signed the lease that they would be re-signing it this year. Trouble is, our landlord decided to jack up the rent so high that when they looked at how much we were making, all this new demographic info and did some adding up, they went..."Oh shit."

People come in the shop and when they learn of our imminent demise, they (a) assume the whole company is going tits-up, and (b) when told otherwise, say "can't something be done?" Well, too little too late I'm afraid, the deal is set in stone. June 4th is our last official day and we are less than pleased about it. Not to say cynical.
Yes, I'm afraid to say that while we are appreciative of people's sympathy, we are becoming a little jaded and tired of all the outpouring of grief. Yes folks, we are making sarky comments about you after you leave the shop.

I was also less than impressed with the way in which we were informed. Edward, the guy that founded the business, flew in to the shop one Monday morning while I was down at the bank. I was there for 20 minutes, tops, and by the time I got back he too was gone. I found out that he'd come in and told Tom, my boss, the reasons why etc, and then gone off on his hols to Mombasa. Well, thanks Ed. Don't let us stop you from enjoying your damn hols. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

The shop lies in a building that used to be the off-licence next to the Ye Olde Cellars pub. the entire building is now one of many owned by the Edmonds brothers, who seem intent on buying up the entire town piece by piece, redeveloping it and turning the whole damn place into a quaint strip mall of their own hellish devising. Let me tell you a little story.

When I worked in Threshers (as the off-licence became called), we went through a remodel in the year 1990. While we were being remodelled, the company (Whitbread, who also owned the pub and its outbuildings) turned one of the outbuildings, an old barn-type affair, into a shop unit for us to use during the interim. Once the remodel was complete and we were back in the original shop, which is now where I work at COOK (it is truly bizarre, by the way, to be working in the same exact building I worked in 20 years ago), the shop unit that we had occupied for those few months now stood empty. Fast forward to 2010 and the entire building and shop unit is entirely owned and its different units rented out by the landlords, the Edmonds brothers. They used to be pro cricketers. But their tactics are not what I would call cricket.

The shop unit when I got back to the UK was a cafe/tea room called Shelly's, and so it was until about a week ago. Because Shelly's closed on the Saturday evening, and by Sunday night it was empty of everything save the counter and a few chairs and tables. They vanished. When someone pointed this out to me last Tuesday, I went and looked for myself. As I was doing so, another shop owner in our building stood outside their shop and I said to them, "When did this happen?" He informed me that they'd gotten a notification of their rent increase and decided to pack up and go, adding as he did so that if his rent goes up too much he'd have to hit the road too.
On Friday I noticed the Brothers had tacked up a notice in the window that the place had been repossessed for 'non-payment of rent' and gave a phone number to call with 'any info'. Today, Monday, the painters and handymen are in there fixing new stuff up in there and one of them lets slip it's going to be 'an ice-cream parlour'.
Does that seem at all odd to you? The tenants ship out on a Sunday night and the following Monday a new business is going in there? Call me cynical, but given the current economic climate, I scarcely think that the streets of this town are teeming with people anxious to start an ice-cream business. It may just be the jaded me talking, but I would not be at all surprised to learn that the new owners of said purveyors of frozen cow's milk would be none other than the Brothers Grim themselves. All of which gets me to the next logical leap, where I ask myself the question - after we move out of the premises, (a) how long will the place remain empty? (b) what will the new business that goes in there be?, and (c) who will the new owners be?

Wait and see, won't we.

100 Records That Shook The World, # 46

2011-04-11T21:36:00.000+01:00

Ladies Of The Canyon (LP)

Joni Mitchell

Ladies of the Canyon is Joni Mitchell's third album, released in 1970. Its title refers to Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles, a center of popular music culture in Los Angeles during the sixties. It features several of Mitchell's most noted songs, including "Big Yellow Taxi", "Woodstock" and "The Circle Game".

At this point, Joni's artistic vision was becoming more defined. Here she was drawing inspiration from the complexities of love, from what she observed of the Woodstock generation, and from celebrity status and what it all meant. Ladies Of The Canyon is the difficult third album, the one that saw her departing from her folk-club beginnings and leaning towards more sophisticated and poignant work, giving us a taster of what was to come in later LPs such as Court And Spark and The Hissing Of Summer Lawns. And here was that monster hit Big Yellow Taxi, which has become a classic, and has been covered countless times.
Joni said this about writing the song to journalist Alan McDougall in the early 1970s:

"I wrote 'Big Yellow Taxi' on my first trip to Hawaii. I took a taxi to the hotel and when I woke up the next morning, I threw back the curtains and saw these beautiful green mountains in the distance. Then, I looked down and there was a parking lot as far as the eye could see, and it broke my heart... this blight on paradise. That's when I sat down and wrote the song.”

The song is known for its environmental concern (from the lyrics "They paved paradise to put up a parking lot", "Hey farmer, farmer, put away that DDT now") and sentimental sound. The line, "Took all the trees, put 'em in a tree museum/And charged the people a dollar and a half just to see 'em" refers to Foster Botanical Garden in downtown Honolulu, which is a living museum of tropical plants, some rare and endangered.

In the song's final verse, the political gives way to the personal. Mitchell recounts the departure of her "old man" in the titular "big yellow taxi", which may refer to the old Metro Toronto Police patrol cars (Joni's Canadian, but of course you knew that - right?) that until 1986 were painted yellow. In many cover versions the departed one may be interpreted as variously a boyfriend, a husband, or a father. The literal interpretation is that he is walking out on the singer by taking a taxi; otherwise it is assumed he is being taken away by the authorities.

Here's Joni.

Driving In My Car

2011-04-10T22:05:00.000+01:00

So last week I posed the question - in which Madness video do the Fun Boy Three (pictured) make a cameo appearance?

The answer is - THIS!
(They appear at 1:59, hitching a lift)

So now, this week's head-scratcher...

Suggs and Chas Smash of Madness released a one-off single as a tribute to their comic book hero Judge Dredd. What was the name of the song and under what name did the duo record?

Heroines

2011-04-08T21:23:00.000+01:00

This should be interesting. I am writing this because of an interesting post by my pal and fellow blogger Marissa Rapier from earlier today. The challenge in this was to name three heroes of the female variety - one a fictitious character, one a movie star, and the third a musician/rock star. The object of this, as in so many other Facebook notes, is to reveal some sort of something about yourself that people haven't already figured out for themselves, I guess. Deep stuff. So here goes. (By the way folks, this originated as a 'Facebook note' and I am just too consarned lazy to write anything original for t'blog this evening, so this'll have to suffice. Sue me.)

Fictitious Character: Well, first I have to think of books that I like, and of those, see if there are any female characters that I can identify with, which, being a guy, is kind of tricky, it has to be said. My favourite series of books is the Hitch Hiker's guide series by Douglas Adams, but the main female character in there is Trillian, who ends up being a time-travelling journo in Mostly Harmless who has Arthur Dent's child using a sperm bank, and although she was cute in the first book, is actually kind of a hateful character by the end of it all, so that rules her out. There's also Fenchurch from So Long And Thanks For All The Fish who is a rather wonderful character but she ends up disappearing into a parallel universe at the beginning of book 5 and is never heard from again, so that's a real downer.

No, I think the female fictitious person I can identify with most is the wonderful Matilda Wormwood from Roald Dahl's Matilda, who is a bright, intelligent and resourceful girl who overcomes adversity (in the shape of her horrible family and nasty brute of a headmistress), discovers the power of telekinesis and helps Miss Honey get back the house that is rightfully hers, and ends up being adopted by Miss Honey at the end while her awful parents leave town for good. Matilda rocks!

Movie Star: Now then. I have much thinks about this tricky one. There are many female movie stars that I can appreciate, some for their obvious charms, some for their acting chops, and some for a bit of both. But a movie star that is somewhat of a hero to me? Hmmm. 'Tis a most perplexing mystery.

There is nothing like a dame....

I think that even though there are a ton of them and the harder I think the more confused I get, I am going to have to go with my gut instinct and say Dame Helen Mirren. She has the classical training, the ability to play a variety of roles at different ages in her life, and she has been in some real classics such as The Long Good Friday, The Queen, Gosford Park,The Madness Of King George, Cal, The Comfort Of Strangers, Excalibur, O Lucky Man! and of course Prime Suspect on t'telly. Plus, she's gorgeous but not 'Hollywood beautiful'. She's a real woman and a class act.

"Hi, I'm Patti and I'll break your nose, punk."

Musician/Rock Star: Well now. There are quite a few candidates for this one also. I think of all the different female recording artistes I like and they range from the likes of Kim Wilde and Pauline Black through to June Carter Cash and Beverly Sills, to Bjork and Kate Pierson of The B-52's. I probably will again go with my gut and say Patti Smith, the Godmother of Punk, the rock poetess, who's still out there and doing it and happens to be the same age as my mum. Go Patti!

Well, there ya go kiddies. Did you learn anything?

Well, Isn't That Special?

2011-04-04T10:23:00.000+01:00

So my Musical Puzzler was correctly answered by my good friend, ex-boss/co-worker, blogging pal and all-round good egg Marissa "The Pride Of Kankakee" Rapier of the world-famous Marissology blog.

The question, just to refresh your memory, was this: "Whose romance was the inspiration for the Go-Go's song 'Our Lips Are Sealed'?" The answer was Jane Wiedlin and Terry Hall of The Specials, Fun Boy Three and The Colour Field.

Wiedlin had what she called a "short but dramatic romance" with Terry Hall of the Specials during their 1980 tour in England; Hall later sent her some lyrics prompted by their relationship, inspiring Wiedlin to write "Our Lips Are Sealed", a song on which Hall has co-writer credits.

Speaking of our Tezza, here's the next question.

Terry Hall and his bandmates Lynval Golding and Neville Staples from The Specials and Fun Boy Three appeared in a cameo role in which video by Madness?

A New Low

2011-04-02T22:56:00.000+01:00

Okay, here we go with another good old fashioned Jeff-style ramblin' rant. I was exposed the other day to something which I suppose the whole of America already knows about but that we here in the British Isles have only recently become aware of.

Rebecca Black, that 13-year-old who smiles way too much, and that awful 'Friday' song. Is it me or are we going to have children springing from their mother's wombs with pop songs on their lips soon?

Sorry, but when I was 13, girls did NOT look like this.

I realise I am preaching to the choir here. I know the song has been universally panned. One website deemed it the worst song ever. Black, in an interview with Good Morning America, said she cried when she heard that, along with other nasty comments. So what have people been saying?

Hypervocal.com: "Truly, undeniably awful."

URLesque: "This song by Rebecca Black has to be the worst song ever written, composed, sung out loud or turned into a video."

SF Gate: "what may be the ultimate combination of horrible lyrics, horrible songwriting, horrible auto-tuning (apparently to hide horrible singing) ... horrible dancing and horrible horribleness. It's so horrible, people are wondering whether the production is real or if it's an elaborate joke."

Apparently Black has been singing for a long time, having been a member of Celebration USA since 2008. They are a patriotic vocal group, apparently. Eww.

But get this! This 13 year old girl whose video has had 17 million views on Yoot Oob and whose single has only been available since Tuesday and is already sitting pretty on the iTunes chart at #31 between Enrique 'Bailamos' Iglesias and the Zac 'nobody's heard of us' Brown Band, doesn't have a record deal.

That's right. She recorded the single at an LA vanity record label and made the video for a paltry $4,000. There is hope for us yet, us closet rock stars.

Taking a closer look at the lyrics to this ode to the joys of driving around with one's chums and having a mighty jolly whizzy time on the weekend, we find we are suddenly moved to go to the bathroom or listen to a solid hour of grime* and dubstep*. Here they are for you to enjoy.

(Yeah, Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ark) (Note: Ark is a reference to Ark Music Factory, where she recorded her song and video.)
Oo-ooh-ooh, hoo yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Rebecca Black - Verse 1]

7am, waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal
Seein' everything, the time is goin'
Tickin' on and on, everybody's rushin'
Gotta get down to the bus stop
Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends (My friends)

Kickin' in the front seat
Sittin' in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend

Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend

[Rebecca Black - Verse 2]

7:45, we're drivin' on the highway
Cruisin' so fast, I want time to fly
Fun, fun, think about fun
You know what it is
I got this, you got this
My friend is by my right
I got this, you got this
Now you know it

Kickin' in the front seat
Sittin' in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?

[Chorus]

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/rebecca_black/friday.html ]
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend

Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend

[Bridge]

Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin')
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today

Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after... wards
I don't want this weekend to end

[Rap Verse]

R-B, Rebecca Black
So chillin' in the front seat (In the front seat)
In the back seat (In the back seat)
I'm drivin', cruisin' (Yeah, yeah)
Fast lanes, switchin' lanes
Wit' a car up on my side (Woo! )
(C'mon) Passin' by is a school bus in front of me
Makes tick tock, tick tock, wanna scream
Check my time, it's Friday, it's a weekend
We gonna have fun, c'mon, c'mon, y'all

[Chorus]

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend

Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend

Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend

Exciting stuff, no?

In a review for Rolling Stone, writer Matthew Perpetua described the vocals as having "a peculiar tonality that inadvertently highlights the absurdity of boilerplate pop lyrics," adding that the tone in the refrain "sounds unlike anything else in pop music." He noted the sound as being not entirely agreeable to listen to, but states that Black ultimately ends up "sounding like a distinct singer with an alluring sort of anti-charisma."

Kevin Rutherford, a columnist for Billboard magazine, wrote, "Black's video for 'Friday' is one of those rare occurrences where even the most seasoned critics of Internet culture don't know where to begin. From the singing straight out of Auto-Tuned hell to lyrics such as 'Tomorrow is Saturday / And Sunday comes afterwards / I don't want this weekend to end' and a hilariously bad rap about passing school buses, 'Friday' is something that simply must be seen and heard to be fully appreciated."

Fellow teenage singer Miley Cyrus criticized Black, saying that "[i]t should be harder to be an artist. You shouldn't just be able to put a song on YouTube and go out on tour." Oh, Miley - are you afraid somebody's cutting in on your action?

Simon Cowell, though, in a surprise move, actually praised Black, saying, "I love her [and] the fact that she's gotten so much publicity. People are so upset about the song, but I think it's hysterical. [...] Anyone who can create this much controversy within a week, I want to meet. I love people like that." He then went on to advise her not to "listen to anyone over the age of 18. I'm being deadly serious. Whatever she's done has worked. Whether you like her or not, she's the most talked-about artist in America right now. Nobody over the age of 18 should understand her or like her. So she should just do it her way." He observed that "any song to do with the weekend annoys you. It reminds me of 'Saturday Night'... It's what we call a 'hair-dryer song,' a song girls sing into their hair dryers as they're getting ready to go out. But the fact that it's making people so angry is brilliant."

All I can say is, I'm working on a sequel. Hey, if it's this easy, then my time surely has come! Maybe an ode to the joys of waking up on a Tuesday and getting ready for work, then hauling my ass down to the shop and putting in eight hours in a retail environment, which can be either fun and rewarding, or a soul-numbing siege from moment to moment. That'll be a fun pop song.

What's that ya say? You haven't heard it yet? You want me to post it on here? Sorry, people, it ain't gonna happen. Go over to the Youts-of-Today Toob and subject yourself to its horrors if you must. Have the painkillers and/or the scotch ready. You will thank me later.

*Grime is a genre of urban music that first emerged in Bow, East London, England in the early 2000s, primarily a development of UK garage, dancehall, and hip hop. Grime is typified by complex 2-step breakbeats, generally around 140 beats per minute and constructed from "different" sounds. Stylistically, grime takes from many genres including UK Garage, dancehall and hip hop. The lyrics and music combine futuristic electronic elements and dark, guttural bass lines.

Dubstep is a genre of electronic dance music that originated in South East London. Its overall sound has been described as "tightly coiled productions with overwhelming bass lines and reverberant drum patterns, clipped samples, and occasional vocals". Dubstep rhythms are usually syncopated, and often shuffled or incorporating tuplets. The tempo is nearly always in the range of 138-142bpm.

So, in other words, stuff that will give you a raging migraine.

What's It All About

2011-03-29T22:50:00.001+01:00

Remember back when we were all kids, we were taught the difference between right and wrong, we were taught manners and all that palaver, and there were a whole handful of axioms and aphorisms our 'elders and betters' used to keep us in line with? Like that phrase - 'elders and betters'. The idea that adults not only knew more than you did but were also better people because of it was a strange one to me. Because they would then go on to complain and gossip with each other about how so-and-so down the street was this and whats-his-name was that, and so you knew this was all total baloney, but you played along anyway. You didn't even question it. As far as we knew, what our parents said was gospel.

Anyway, among the tried and trusted mottoes they liked to wheel out was the one that said that it was rude to discuss politics or religion in polite company. Well, I know my readership, and you're all a pretty rude and motley group, and so I will discuss one of those things right now.

There is a church that stands in my hometown that has a sign outside. Now, that in itself is not unusual. Most churches have signs outside. Usually they are of the wooden painted variety, with information such as a list of services, the vicar's name, and perhaps room for a colourful poster with some lovely serene woodland photo and a nice little Bible verse on it. Except, that is, when I moved to the States, where it seems every church (and when I lived in Georgia, there were a lot of them) has one of those big illuminated signs outside with magnetic letters on it. That's right, just like the Burger King and MuckDonald's. And the larger the church and the more affluent the neighbourhood, the bigger and more flashy the sign out front. From a distance you can't tell the difference between a church and a cineplex in some cases. These signs are very handy for these churches because it gave them the freedom to change the sign and put whatever they wanted on it. There seem to be a lot of puns.

Puns used to be the preserve of hairstylists only. "Hair-berdashery" and "Hair It Tiz" spring to mind. Then record shops got in on the act, with names like Vinyl Countdown and such. So the churches realised there was a marketing tool here that they could use, and don't kid yourself, churches do have to market themselves, especially when there's one on every corner like there is in Georgia. There's a lot of competition out there, boy. So we started seeing church signs with real groaners on them such as "Send God A Knee Mail". Painful, boys, truly painful.

So - marketing. Like I said, up until recently, only American churches have used sophisticated signage. British ones have always been a bit twee and Miss Marple-ey. Until I saw the sign outside this particular church. It's one of those hi-tech printed ones on a big sheet of weatherproof vinyl with that no-fade ink so even in the depths of winter it is bright and vibrant and jumps out at you. The first thing that you see on this sign is the question "WHAT'S LIFE ALL ABOUT?" in large red block letters, with the word LIFE looking very similar to the way it looks on the cover of the American magazine of the same name, large and friendly and somehow comforting. However, this question is superimposed on a photo of a silhouetted figure on the crest of a hill with large grey clouds looming ominously behind him. Sort of a suicidal-looking figure, I think. How cheery.

The next thing you see are four pictures. The first is of an ecstatically happy-looking black man with a shaved head with the expression of someone who has just received a visit from the Publisher's Clearing House people with a large cardboard replica of a check in their hands. In fact, do you remember that episode of The Cosby Show where Theo wants to become a male model and his sisters stage a mock interview at a modelling agency and Lisa Bonet tells him to adopt the look of a man who has just won the lottery? That look. What are they trying to say with this pic, I wonder? Black guys is crazy??!? Oh, you know those West Indians, always jumping up and down with manic expressions on their faces. (Sarcasm).

The next picture is of a mixed-race family looking all cheery and posing in the park for a group photo. The next is of piles of money of various currencies. I guess that represents money, doesn't it? The final pic is of a happy couple doing that 'couple-on-the-beach-with-the-guy-giving-the-girl-a-piggyback-ride' thing, which I suppose represents either relationships, marriage, spring break or sports?

Underneath all these four pics is the legend "Surely there must be more to LIFE than this?".

Then "Ever felt there's something MISSING?"

Then "Ever asked the question WHY AM I HERE?"

Can you see where this is headed? Yes, me too. It's like a freight train bearing down on you. You cannot avoid it.

"Perhaps Life is all about KNOWING GOD?"

Yeah, well, no.

There are two main things that I have a problem with in this situation. Firstly, we have this whole big marketing thing going on. The churches are just like anything else these days, trying all this flash advertising to try to make you come to them instead of the other guys. The message they are really sending with signs like this outside is "If you want to know all the answers, we've got 'em. Don't go down the street to the other churches. They may say they can help you, but only we know what the true purpose of life is. Those other churches don't know jack diddley. We got it all together here. Come on in, oh, and by the way, the collection plate is coming round."

The second thing I have a problem with is this notion that everyone and his second cousin twice removed on his grandad's sister's aunt's side are supposedly wandering around thinking "What's life about? What is my purpose? Why am I here?" which they are patently not. The churches want you to believe that that is what you are supposed to be thinking so they can then tell you. In this respect they are nothing but snake-oil salesmen.

I'm not saying that there aren't people pondering those questions. I'm sure there are. It seems to me a lot of time over the millennia has been wasted thinking about those very things. If people would just quit wondering about what it's about and just live it, there'd be less man-hours lost to the nation and we'd be on the whole a lot happier.

OK, I can tell there are still a lot of people thinking, well Jeff, you've had a good rant about this and made your opinions clear, do you feel better now you've gotten this off your chest? Well, no. Because to me, the answer to the question what's life about is dead simple. Would you,like to know?

Nothing.

There is no other purpose to life except to live it. You were not 'put here for some special purpose' or to achieve some lofty goal, nobody put you here. You just are. The only reason most of us are here is because our parents had a couple beers too many one night and got a bit frisky. So live your life. Quit worrying about What Would Jesus Do, ask yourself what would you do? You know the difference between right and wrong, that is basic knowledge, it's primal. If it feels wrong, it is wrong. You don't need a book to tell you that. In fact the whole Bible could really be condensed down into two words: 'Be Nice'. So quit worrying. And be nice.

My Helicopter Is Full Of Eels

2011-03-27T21:32:00.001+01:00

I bet you all thought I'd dropped off the planet, didn't you? Leaving you all in the lurch, without anything to read or complain about. What up wit dat, Jeff, I can hear you all cry - except for one guy in Poland, who has but the faintest grasp of ebonics. Also, his accent is terrible. Anyway, what was I saying? What was I saying? I haven't the foggiest. Not a glimmer. My brain is emptier than a really really empty thing that's really empty. I need to go to Simile School don't I?

Some days are like that. Sometimes I just cannot think of anything to write about. I remember once reading a book for aspiring writers that extolled the virtues of getting up at the crack of dawn every day and writing at least a thousand words before breakfast. Well, I'm sorry, but the last time I saw the crack of dawn was from the wrong end after a hard night of partying, about 20 years ago or more. If I am out of bed before about 8am these days it's because I have to get up to go to the bathroom. Add to that my coffee addiction which sometimes looms perilously close to nightmarish proportions and the likelihood of me writing anything before about lunchtime is excruciatingly small.

The trouble with being a blogger (and I realise here I'm probably preaching to the choir) is that real life often tends to get in the way. One has to prioritize. I might get an idea for something to write about but it usually happens when I'm at work, or when there are a great pile of dishes to be washed. I find I am standing there thinking about it and saying to myself, 'Just do these dishes, Jeff, and then you can go write this stuff down'. Naturally, by the time I do, I've forgotten what it was I wanted to say, which just compounds the issue. Sometimes I think maybe becoming a hermit would be a good idea - just me, my computer, alone in a shed cranking out page after page of this high-quality drivel like Ted Kaczynski - well, not quite like Ted... I don't know the first thing about explosives, to start with, and I am a jolly sort of fellow - and the shed of course would have to have all the comforts of home, and satellite, and maybe a butler... but I think I would miss human interaction and of course, my girlfriend.

But I am one of those people that find it hard to focus on things when there is distraction around. I cannot, repeat cannot have a phone conversation in a noisy room surrounded by other people talking. If you were to come visit me at home and the phone should ring, I would have to leave the room with it in order to answer it. I cannot focus on what the caller is saying to me if there are other people talking or if the TV is on. It all becomes babble.

Likewise I cannot stand to be watching a TV show or a movie on TV or in the cinema and have people talking through it. Even if it's a re-run of Blackadder I have to have silence. My feeling is, I want to watch it, so show some respect, mainly to me, the viewer, but also to the show. If I care enough to deem it worthy of viewing (and there's precious little these days that is, let's face it) then that means I think others should respect it, and if those around me don't see eye-to-eye with that viewpoint, then I will walk out of the room rather than suffer at the hands of noisy peeps. I can always watch it later, when I'm alone. Thank you, DVR, what a wonderful invention you are.

This is good. I'm on a roll now. I am hitting my stride. In my element. What was I talking about? Let me read back a few sentences. Ah yes. I think I'm done with that now.

I am gratified that my blogs are getting respectable numbers of hits per day (anywhere between 40 to 90) although I do think to myself sometimes that perhaps it's the sheer number of posts I've already put out that is causing the increase in popularity. Maybe, though, it's that I have something worthwhile to say, something that perhaps touches a few nerves and makes people sit and think. If that's the case, then yippee skippee to me. If not, then fine, I'm going to be doing this a while, at least until the rest of my talents are discovered by a waiting world - my musical ability, my impressions, my cooking, my sparkling wit, my humility....

Anyway, I have to go look at some shed catalogues and put an ad for a butler in the local rag. Later, dudes.

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