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Wednesday 8 May 2024

End of Year Lists (2009)

 I assume some eedjit at the esteemed Reykjavik Grapevine asked me to provide end-of-year highlights for 2009. It was a fucking great year for many reasons.


Gigs 2009

Lady Gaga at Il Fosos Square Floriana, Malta - July 8

She burst out of a giant egg, stuck her arse in air whilst playing piano and pretty much the entire population of Malta got drunk together in a totally beautiful mediaeval square in 75 degree evening heat. I mean, come on. What more do you want?

Elbow at Oxegen Festival, Punchestown Park, Ireland - July 13

It absolutely shat it down with rain, I mean fucking shat the fuck it down. It was like God had drunk loads of his own lager-piss then projectile-puked it all over the stage for several hours. But when Guy Garvey sang about blue skies and sunshine everyone believed him. Fuck you, God!

Specials, Manchester Apollo, England - May 3

Alrite so there was no Jerry Dammers, but Terry Hall was there looking morose and brilliant and I’d got married the day before and life rarely gets better than that. Also I was drunk.

Hallo… I Love You! – Whitewood Studio, Liverpool, England -May 21

Less than 10 of us there at a pre-gig runthrough of the debut appearance of these sweety-pie pop buggers, in a studio above a venue, no bullshit, no lights, just songs and smiles and that’s all you need innit.

Lionel Ritchie, Manchester MEN Arena, England - March 22

Look, I was a punk bassist and still am but I was a cunt to think as I once did that people like Lionel or Neil Diamond were dinosaur irrelevances. They’re fucking great musicians and make people happy and I am pleased I finally worked out how fundamentally important those things are in life.



Icelandic albums of which I have drunk

Stereo Hypnosis – Hypnogogia

Reminds me of a chill-out room at 4am with this kind of shit playing either inside or outside my head but hard to tell which is which.

Moto Boy – Moto Boy

This album made me question for the first time ever whether I was right to hate Morrissey so much. (I was, but not necessarily for the music).

AFMJ - Itemhljóð og Veinan

The polar opposite to easy listening which is why it’s kinda deftly delivered. Fractured, fucked-up artsy wallowing beat-bleeps.

Egill Sæbjörnsson – Egill S

Nice tunes, a bit of progginess and psychedelia but fundamentally just good proper songs.

Lett A Barunni – Sexi

Dingy, sludgy, deadpan, Stoogesy and a bit Datblygu-ish I thought, but then I don’t know shit about shit.



International albums

Manic Street Preachers – Journal For Plague Lovers

Totally pretentious as you’d expect with Richie’s lyrics but really quite stunningly-delivered and the best Manics album for god, a decade?

Future Of The Left – Travels With Myself And Another

The sharpest band on the planet in terms of riffs and lyrics hit home big-style… again.

Bombay Bicycle Club – I Got The Blues But I Shook Them Loose

Intense but accessible and they ain’t shook no blues loose for long.

Kasabian – West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum

Everyone wondered what would happen to them after a top debut and a glammy and not-entirely satisfying followup – they delivered this, and all was good again.

Aidan Moffat & The Best-Ofs - How To Get To Heaven From Scotland

The answet to the question posed by the title: get drunk and sing about everything from letching at tits to becoming a first-time daddy.



Artists to watch in 2010:

Esmee Denters

Wild Beasts

Jersey Budd

Dananananaykroyd

Ah fuck it can I say Dr Spock? Are they dead yet? Why not? Prison? Also Budam, more please.



TOP 5 ISLANDS

Anglesey

Cuba

Malta

Grand Cayman

Iceland

TOP 5 NUMBERS

1.2

2.5

3.4

4.2

5.3

Swimming Under the Ice (1994)

 An ancient Vaffan Coulo song - but I like the words so nyurks.


They engineered it again,

so they had the last line.

"You can change the world like you can change the weather,

so just eat your idiot pie, and wash it down with scum wine,

and forget the end of your tether."


But,

They don't tell you that there's others around

Who don't want to live life underground

Please join us, because you know we love you -

You're beautiful, so let your light shine,

Tell me of your dreams, and you can share all of mine

And maybe, just maybe,

we can make it

Together.


Just don't follow the lie,

And say "everything's fine"

While your hopes and your trust float away on a feather.

They'll betray your soul, make swiss-cheese of your mind,

Plant a dopey grin on your face just for cover.


But,

They don't tell you that there's others alive

Who don't want to live their life under ice,

we got warm arms, an embrace for a brother -

There's thousands of us, it's a silent attack,

So put your ear to the ice, I think it's going to crack

Just maybe, just maybe,

We can crack it

Together.


Flatliners

 I forgot about this song. I think I even remember the chords. I ought to record it. I won't record it.


 

I found amusement in a million ways when I was sixteen

In lager frenzy with a fire in my gut and my eyes flashing

Perfectly balanced with a chip upon each shoulder

We could be this way forever, never gonna lose this power

If we kick against the pricks and posers, everything we do will hit the headlines

 

Killing braincells was my favourite game when I was eighteen

A blackened angel with a mind like a gun and my heart crackling

Perfectly happy turning tricks with a gee-tar

And if we stick together, nothing gonna put us under

If we fuck and drink and sing and holler, everything we do will hit the headlines

 

Bridge: I won't let go of this fever

So now I'm back for more

Your world will be mine

Chorus: till I flatline

 

((Bvox: I lost my balance today))

            ((When things go wrong, all we do is blame each other))

 

White Line Fever was my favourite song when I was twenty

A wasteland preacher, I could never be wrong if I stayed angry

Perfectly sober with a hotline to the answers

If we swear and shout and sneer we can harness all this thunder

If we play this right tonight, tomorrow everything we do will hit the headlines

 

I'm screaming louder every day, but no-one's listening

I can't go gentle cos I know all my words have forked no lightning

My nerves have gone, nobody wants a toothless tiger,

The wage of sin is boredom, there's no point in a tin soldier

(But) now I'm back, don't give a fuck if what I do or say will ever hit the headlines

 

Bridge2: Time's flowing like lava

My life's burning away

Without headlines

 

Panic - a Poem (2013)

 

Panic:

A poem in

  • actions

and speech



  • If there is a programme or pamphlet, the print version of the poem should include be a Red X to indicate a missing jpeg, under which is written (name of performer): the author; the text should be a dark and unreadable printing error of palimspestic unrelated texts manipulated to be unreadable or a note that says: ‘Poem unavailable at time of going to press.’

  • Drink lots of caffeine energy drinks and coffee about an hour before the scheduled performance. Amphetamines are probably going to induce too much confidence here. Coke is obviously a no-no. It’s adrenaline that’s needed: an excess thereof.

  • Arrive exactly two minutes late. Get the bus that is not sure to get there on time. Don’t wear a watch.

  • Wear lots, and lots, of layers of very warm clothes to induce a nice sweat.

  • Podium. It’s not going anywhere. Approach it trepidly.

  • Fiddle with the mic. Unplug it. Make it make horrible noises through the speakers. Try and get it to feed back. Eventually someone with proper skills will help get it working properly. Take a few coughs, one-twos, etc,

Can you hear me?

Hi. Um. One Two. Three.

OK hopefully

No more gremlins can attack.

Hello. I am (the performer) and this is my poem, Panic.

  • Click on ppt. Nothing happens.

  • Ask IT person to re-boot.

  • PPT will come up with a frozen first page of the poem – an intriguing picture of the performer in action/posed in front of mountains/looking poet-y.

  • But nothing happens. Smallish shrug – not a huge problem, but not going to plan so far.



Looks like we might have to do this

Old Skool, if

That’s not behaving

Today.

There’s a reason

We had paper for so long

Or papyrus or whatever.

No problem;

Hang on.



  • Look in back pocket. Pull out what looks like a poem.

  • Prepare to read. It’s a shopping list. Discard this.

  • Look in bag. Pull everything out.

  • Pause as much as possible.

  • Smile at audience.

  • Discard all non-poem-related papers, condoms, cans of generic energy drinks, pornography, tampons. Strew these around the room with increasing worry.

  • Make sure there are some snotty tissues there.

  • Look through exercise book full of notes. Find no sign of the poem. Rip pages out and throw them across the room.

I think… maybe I can…

  • Get pen and paper.

  • Smile at audience, nervously.

  • Breathe fast.

  • Take minutes to try and remember any lines of a poem.



OK it’s an approximation but…



  • Look at audience.

  • Take deep breaths.

  • Almost begin to talk.

  • Instead, pull out mobile phone

  • Dial a number



I’ve got an idea, bear with me



  • No reply.

  • Send a text.

  • Look at it. It’s got no signal / battery.

  • Remove battery

  • Take the sim card out and lick it.





Has anyone got a phone

That actually works

That actually has the Internet on it?

Not like this piece of cheap

Fucking

Shit.



  • Launch own phone onto floor. Hopefully, it will smash.

  • If someone does offer their phone after this, try and make it make stupid noises. Press lots of buttons. Disconnect it.

  • Turn it off.

  • Have a brainwave. Find a pen drive.

  • Insert it into computer to project

  • It will autoplay some kind of unsavoury movie.

  • Rush to turn it off

  • Leave.

  • Go home on the bus.

  • The reading will continue.

  • When you get home put the kettle on.

  • As the water bubbles and boils, start to come down and calm down.

  • Phone up an accomplice who will put their own phone to the microphone.



Can someone please

Bring me my keys?


End

Glossary

 Several years ago, a friend was putting together a Men's Guide to Men, which would have had different people writing various chapters on men, masculinity, the world and the whole kaboodle.

Unfortunately it never surfaced, but here's the work-in-progress glossary I was writing for it.


Glossarificatory wordingages for easiliciousness of definitication

Bechdel Test: Alison Bechdel’s assertation that to pass the test a movie must have: Two female characters, who have at least one conversation about something that does not involve a man. Which is very sadly rarer than you’d think. Try it. Not to be confused with: Bechamel Test, which gauges your ability to make a basic white sauce.

Bisexual: Greedy bastard.

Body Positivity: As the saying goes: How to have a beach body: 1. Have a body. 2. Go to the beach.

Career Woman: A person with a job.

Catcalling: GOOD Version: “Come in, Tiddles, your dinner is ready. Tiddles? Tiddles? FUCKING HELL TIDDLES COME IN IT’S FREEZING oh there you are sorry I’ve had a long day oh thank you yes a dead baby rat, just what I wanted. Oh my apologies. It’s only half-dead. Even better.” BAD Version: “Whit whoo, whoa you don’t get many tits to the melon on that one”; “Smile, love, it may never happen”; “Show us your lower intestinal tract, phwoar wot a scorcha”; et cetera. Fun fact: Since the dawn of the human race, no bloke has ever pulled by shouting at any passing woman.

Chemsex: Scientists are currently working on a way to introduce rock n’ roll into this neologism and expect to achieve first draft results sometime in 2023.

Cis: The genetic fluke that one’s gender identity is the same as one’s visible bits. Apparently, this is important to some people. Dubious fact: the Gallagher brothers named their band after a conversation: Who’s that over there? Fookin dunno Noel. Oh, a cis. Ave it!!!

Feminazi: A term used by not-very-bright people on social media to avoid having to engage in an actual discussion.

Feminism: NOT this: “Oh right, you’ve got a willy.” “Yeah. Have you?” “No.” “Oh ok then I’m in charge.” But THIS: “Oh right, you’ve got a willy.” “Yeah. Have you?” “No.” “Well it’s not important anyway.” “No, it’s not.” “Let’s put whoever’s best suited to this job/opportunity/social position forward.” “This is a strange conversation.” “Yes.” (There is a third conversation: “Oh right, you’ve got a willy.” “Yeah. But my gender identity does not.” “Oh fuck. What do we do now?”)

Fuck: The greatest word in the English language - almost infinitely flexible, e.g. “Fucking hell, that fucking fucker fucked that fucking fucker right up. Fuck me, seen the fucking state on the fucker? That is one big fucking puddle of fuck right there.” “Yes, your Majesty, quite so.”

Genderfluidity: A surefire way to irritate the likes of Piers Morgan by making them feel funny inside because they can’t cope with more than one idea at once.

Glass Ceiling, the: The limit of promotion possibility for a person who doesn’t have a cock. Obviously unacceptable. Let’s reclaim it as a joke; as the great comedian Steven Wright said: “I installed a skylight in my apartment. The people who live above me are furious.”

Heteronormative: The idea that Straightness is the Only Fruit. From the famous Hallmark card text: Roses are red, gender is performative; Society is horribly heteronormative.

HOMO: Ostensibly a slur from the terribly unenlightened males who are, in fact, subconsciously expressing a cry for help, i.e. a Hatred of Missing Out. (On cock).

Homosexual: A person attracted to the same gender. Also none of your business. But whatever. Not to be confused with: Fomosexual, one that takes every opportunity to do a sex just in case.

Homo Erectus: Proof that evolutionary biologists have a sense of humour.

Homo Sapiens: As the old song goes - You and me, me and you. Lots and lots for us to do. Lots and lots of long-standing inequalities within a failing capitalist society to overturn and replace with a loving and just educated focus on sustainable, creative, inclusive culture-led progression through respect for each other and the planet. Me and you, you and me.”

Incel: An acronym for I’m No Catch Either, Love.

Intersectionality: The difficult idea that the world is not divided into us and them, black and white, sponge and stone, tea or coffee. Further, that the experience of each individual is more complex and nuanced than one single piece of data can ever explain. Not just a useful tool to consider many social factors, but a boon for the creators of Venn diagrams worldwide.

LGBTQIA: Ooh! I know this, hang on. Right. *cough* ok… Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual, Rudolph, Dancer, Prancer, Ringo, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dibble and Grubb.

Male Gaze: Look, lads, women are beautiful and us boring straighties and bi-pies all want to probably do some things with them that may or may not include: slap and tickle, kissy-fanny, booby-wooby-tickly-touchy, willy-wetty and Bert and Ernie. What isn’t so good is broadcasting this out with our eyes at them in the street when they walk toward us. Seriously. It’s freaky and it’s obvious. And we can all try harder to be more respectful. But it’s also an endemic and rather foul ingrained societal pressure – that women must adhere to an ever-changing, never-attainable, and overwhelmingly male, version of what ‘beauty’ and ‘desirability’ are. Not so easy to change. But we can do it. We must. Who’s with me? Although, yes, Pamela Anderson does have big… ideas on equality. Not to be confused with: Male Gays. A great bunch of lads.

Man: A person.

Mansplaining: This glossary. Sorry.

Manspreading: An open invitation to a swift punch in the ballsack.

Misandry: A dubious concept invented by PornBros and so-called Mens’ Rights activists to cover up the fact that they can’t get a shag. A modern version of: “How did you get on with that girl at the bar?” “Pah. She must be another misandrist lesbian.” “Yes. You talk to lots of man-hating lesbians don’t you.”

Misogyny: Let’s just talk about the concept of ‘other’ for a minute. See those people over there? They’re not going to hurt you. Really. They may not look the same. They may not – gasp - have the same dangly bits. This makes absolutely no difference to your life. So shut the fuck up and stop trying to blame other people for your own bullshit inadequacies. Clear your mind, young Padawan, and be humble. Also, you will never get your willy wet if you keep putting other people down like that.

Mispiggy: The irrational hatred of porcine puppets.

Negging: Necking when you’ve got a blocked nose.

Nonbinary: As the old joke goes: There are two kinds of people in this world: people who understand the concept of ‘nonbinary’ and accept it, and fucking absolute wastes of protoplasm who ought to have a good long look at themselves. LOL!!!!!!!

#Notallmen: Yes, obviously not all men, you cretinous, triggered tosspot. But it is some men and being aware of some men’s unacceptable actions is a good start in how to not become one of some men that are shit as fuck.

Patriarchy: The concept that having a penis ensures authority over those who do not. This system, ironically, is responsible for fucking up, irreparably, things like: the human race, the planet, the ecosystem, etc. Not to be confused with: Postman Patriarchy, which dictates that big-nosed posties with black cats and trundly red vans are in charge.

Political Correctness: An outdated expression that once meant trying not to use hate speech. Has been replaced by the meaningless alternative It’s Political Correctness Gone Mad.

Pornography: Men wrestle with themselves about porn. And men love to wrestle with themselves. It’s not that porn can’t be feminist; it’s just fucking, really, isn’t it. Without which most of us wouldn’t be here at all. But there are some tricky positions too. Pun intended. Of course, consent is paramount but there’s also a massive, massive, brain-bursting host of contexts that make it a tricky one to come to a conclusion about. I mean, we suspend our disbelief when we watch a movie, read a book, go to a play or whatever. So, in theory, a performance of sexy sex should be the same. It’s not, though, because overwhelmingly porn replaces actual sex education with unrealistic and dangerous expectations, and boundaries are not just blurred but rubbed out entirely. People get hurt making it, and the Internet spurts it out all into people’s faces and brains, which denies contextualisation. Wanking’s great. But not when other people are destroyed mentally and/or physically for a quick spunk. Aye, not an easy one is it. Not to be confused with: Quornography, in which people get off by watching each other eat meat-replacement products.

Sex: Time for an update to the old Birds and the Bees explanation, so, when little Angel/a asks: “What is sex?” we can now reply: “When a woman and a man or a woman and a woman or a man and a man or an intersex person and an intersex person and any combination of any of these and any other designations that any person identifies with at any time and in any quantities as long as anyone consents, love each other very much, they have a special kiss with their whole bodies and it makes them feel nice and close to each other, unless it’s just a quick faceless fuck and that’s awesome too.” “But daddy I just asked what the number after five was.” “Ah.”

She’s Not Gonna Shag You, Mate: Twitter code for “I’m not getting any sex, have no sense of humour of my own and in a few months will be posting pictures of Pokemon with the faces of Star Trek characters or whatever the next bandwagon bullshit meme is.”

Slut-shaming: Here are some words: Flaunts. Curves. Promiscuous. Brazen. Cleavage. Legs. Beach Body. Ample. Assets. Toned. Sleek. Skimpy. Bikini. Petite. Figure. Thong. Romp. Sex. Lover. Put them together in various ways and - hey presto! You’re working for the Daily Mail Online.

Soy Boy: Spanish for ‘I am a boy’.

TERF: Trans-exclusionary radical feminist/ism. Specially invented to give Graham Linehan palpitations about what constitutes a ‘real’ woman, and therefore sully forever the memory of the wonderful Father Ted.

Toxic Masculinity: Basically, if one continues to attack others for their lack of penises, one will eventually choke on it. The idea that there is a traditional gender role for men that must be adhered to and every non-conforming bloke is Walter the Softy. That it is the role of men to look after the helpless ladies and to be all brave and bald like Jason Statham and do punchies and big shooty gunblasts. That women’s lives are made of kittens, flowers and pwetty wickle dwesses and pwincesses, emotions, expressiveness etc. Beer for the boys, and Babycham for the ladies, whose poo comes out in little perfumed bags.

Transgender: Someone whose external bits didn’t match their internal self, so may or may not have had gender confirmation surgery to correct this oversight. Not to be confused with: Transformers, which are robots in disguise.

Unsolicited Dick Pics: A great name for a punk band. A terrible idea in any other context.

Woman: A person.

Sunday 5 May 2024

Funeral Plans

 This one was written for, and rejected by, a Radio One show. 


FUNERAL PLANS

INTRO: It’s inevitable that all our lives will eventually come to an end. Increasingly, people are looking at their own final arrangements to ease the burden on the loved ones they leave behind. Fortunately, there are many more options these days…

FX: A BEACH. SEAGULLS, WAVES. DISTANT SOUNDS OF KIDS LAUGHING. FOOTSTEPS OF TWO PEOPLE ON SAND.

DAUGHTER: It was Dad who said he wanted to talk about dying. I said, “Daaaad, we aren’t anywhere near that yet.” And he said:

DAD: Tell you what, love, nobody is going to be here forever. But I don’t want a big fuss or a funeral. Just something simple.

FX: TYPING ON A KEYBOARD, INTERNET BLEEPY SOUNDS.

DAUGHTER: So we researched funeral specialists online. Even the ones with no funeral director and who promised no fuss seemed really expensive. Then I had a great idea.

GRAMS: JAUNTY BRASS BAND MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND

FX: BEACH AS BEFORE. DOGS HAPPILY BARKING ETC

DAUGHTER: I wanted more time to enjoy the good things in life, so the next time we went to the beach, I pushed the fucker off a cliff.

FX: SLIGHT SCUFFLE ENDS WITH SURPRISED OLD MAN SHOUTING ‘NOOOOOOO’, SOUND GETTING QUIETER AND FURTHER AWAY

FX: SPLOSH

FX: SEAGULLS, BEACH SOUNDS, ONE SET OF FOOTSTEPS WALKING AWAY

VOICEOVER: Say goodbye your own way at pushtheoldfuckerinthesea.com . Way cheaper than arsing about with funerals. Cause what does he care? - he’s dead.

END

He Sees

Strange meadows; fantastic fields; gifted, gently waving fronds

And teary-lashes surround us.

I have your eye in my sights.

My lens reflects in yours.


You scan the meadows, fields, fronds and for

A whispered, tiny second, amidst

The haste and waste and the noise

Souls meld.