Wise rules I have done a learn on

·         Download it now. It might not be available tomorrow.

·         Do not ever try and do reggae if you are not actually from Jamaica (and nearby).

·         Always know where your remote controls are. Have a place for them.

·         Fry your eggs slowly on a low heat.

·         Always stroke dogs and cats, if they want you to. If they don’t, they will tell you.

·         Check size and weight of luggage allowances really carefully. Those cunts will keep changing and you will get fucked.

·         Doing things for a laff is usually the way to end up doing ace things.

·         Don’t overthink. Don’t overplan.

·         Overeat. Overdrink. Whatever. Don’t fucking moan about it afterwards though.

·         The older you get, the more you appreciate having a poo.

·         If a book is shit, don’t plough through it. There’s loads out there. Read a good one.

·         Leave my favourite mug alone.

·         Yes the world has gone fucking mental and we’re all going to burn one way or another.

·         You are not ‘entitled to an opinion’ if that means you have ‘already decided to ignore the actual facts’ and ‘decided not to listen to any nuances’. You will get called out on it, and you will be eventually called a cunt. Not least because you are a cunt.

·         People are nice on their own aren’t they.

·         After a certain age, nobody asks you what your favourite dinosaur is. That’s sad isn’t it? Ask someone today. They will definitely have one. Dinosaurs are awesome.

·         Try and do what you said you would do. If you can’t, or fuck it up, be honest and apologise. I mean, it’s not fucking rocket surgery is it.

·         Capitalism’s failure can be tracked entirely through the proliferation of weird and useless kitchen gadgets in charity shops.

·         This could also be interpreted as its success, of course.

·         It is generally a bad idea to read John Pilger before work.

My new single's A-side: Wrong Way, Bigfoot

My brain hasn't quite cottoned on to the fact that I'm not in a band anymore, nor am I likely to be, largely cause I simply cannot be fucking arsed. But my brain keeps thinking it is, so here is the A-side to the single I'll never ever release. This one has some music written for it too, at least in basic form. And yes so what indeed.

__

Somethin’s lurking in the dark and the deep

Somethin’s lurking in the dark and the deep

Feel his foul breath on the back of your neck

Too scared to go to bed cause I will not sleep

The monster rips your eyes out and murders in dreams

This time I’m ready and I’ll turn and I’ll scream:

Wrong way Bigfoot

Everybody dopey mined, dopey faces

Everybody look like they running better races

But everybody stuck in the same old stasis

If you think other people better than you

And they never really understand you

Take a walk and see the bullshit going on around you

Huh

Somethin’s lurking in the dark and the deep

Somethin’s lurking in the dark and the deep

Somethin’s lurking in the dark and the deep

Heterosexual life is so very very boring

All that late-night drunken mindless pawing

Chemsex hangover regrets on every morning

I’ve had my share of fifth-gear, drunken moments

Snorting, pilling, fucking, smoking roll-ups

Avoiding straight-haired, burned-out numb-nuts grownups:

Wrong way Bigfoot

Now the oceans become mostly synthetic

The plastic piles up only cause we let it.

That doesn’t fit into my dialectic

Ask yourself: what has Marx published lately?

Starting to believe he’ll never save me

Crazy as it seems, I think he hates me:

Wrong way Bigfoot

And then. Heavenly voices sing - 

"Come to us join us

Come to us join us

Confess and lose your sins

Love will be everything"

STOP.

Everything?

Unlikely.

AND GO:

Wrong way Bigfoot

There’s no God on a cloud sat waiting for us

There ain’t no angels - no soul-soothing chorus

And if there were they’d do best to just ignore us

I’m just another fucked-up feckless creature

God forbid I should ever want to meet ya

Evolution died in the dirty mouth of Nietzsche

Wrong Way Bigfoot

But he could slap that bass like a motherfucker

My new single's B-side: I've Got the Hots for Paris Lees

My brain hasn't quite cottoned on to the fact that I'm not in a band anymore, nor am I likely to be, largely cause I simply cannot be fucking arsed. But my brain keeps thinking it is, so here is the B-side to the single I'll never ever release. Sorry Paris, it's true tho :)

__

I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

She makes me wobbly at the knees

All I think of lately

Is Paris and Grace Blakeley

Oh, I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

She’s got it all, or so it seems

It’s such a shame

She’ll never feel the same

Oh, I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

It’s innocent, nothing obscene:

I don’t want to seem creepy

But I’d fall for her completely

Oh, I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

I’ve got the hots for Paris Lees

I’ve got her in my Twitter feed

She won’t take shit

From any fucking prick

She’s bloody ace, is Paris Lees

Well, everyone loves Kylie

And brilliant Rachel Riley

And Vorderman was awesome in her day (and still is)

I’d get quite lost

In the eyes of Susannah Hoffs

I’d garden with Kim Wilde all the way (she’s the biz)

Debbie Harry’s Blondie

Has beauty way beyond me

Nigella Lawson’s quite the dish (yes she is)

Rita Ora’s gorgeous

Angelina Jolie also was

Before that Brad Pitt made her skeletal – but hey

I’m old as fucking shit

But when I think of it

There’s one who’s got it all: It's Paris Lees

Come, Celebrated Light

For Suzy.

This is how this sounds.   Click to hear it, and click on the manuscript to see the full sketch.

Match Report

Oof... just edged out in a thirteen-goal thriller -
Boom! Up pops Benn with a Next Goal Winner.

1876 - 2: Morning

Let’s be honest here.

The result isn’t important

Today, even less so today than usual.

On the pitch, I mean.

O Glorious Day of drizzle and hope.

I wonder, what will be my new lucky pants? My new lucky rituals? My…

Well. Those aren’t important either.

I’m looking at my newest-framed piece of beauty on the wall and it says:

One share - in my name – and the date is today’s date.

20^th July, 2019.

And, so nearly, we’re there.

At 3pm today, seven hours away,

We get our club back.

I’ve been awake since 5ish.

I kept waking and smiling.

O Fabulous Day. Excitement and nerves.

I wonder who will be there. Family, yes, friends, yes, comrades, well, obviously aye.

A hundred? Double that? Is that important?

Maybe it is. Travelling together or separately to arrive with the same goals:

To share – to cheer the team – moiderers all, and all nearly-lost.

Til today.

Being honest,

We could lose by a few goals;

They’ve been together for years.

Us? Weeks. On the pitch, that is.

Off it? Eons. Hundreds of years

And thousands of games between us.

There are many different kinds of goals of course,

And the trick is to play for the right ones.

And.

Well.

I mean, as we’re being honest,

You know I said the result wasn’t important?

I lied.

Course it fucking is.

It always fucking is.

And a-one-and-a-two-and-a-threee-and-

There’s only one way of life

And that’s fan-owned

Fan-owned

Fan-owned

O I WE R BANGOR I

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