“Choose life, choose a job, choose a career, choose a family, choose a f4ckin big television.
Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments, choose a starter home, choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase and a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose diy and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sittin’ on that couch watching mind numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish f4cked up brats you’ve spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future, choose life.
But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life.
I chose something else...”
...and the reasons, there are no reasons, who needs reasons when you’ve got in service days?
For anyone outside either the UK or school age parenthood, in service days are slipped in to the academic year indiscriminately under the pretence that they are training days for teachers, all the while catching unsuspecting parents unaware and forcing them to secure some form of alternative child care or take the day off work.
Having decided that I actually quite fancied Friday off, I decided to pick up the child care baton.
Both kids had invited a friend over so the actual involvement from me would extend no further than a little bit of taxiing.
By the grace of a strange meteorological phenonomenon, the sky was a funny blue colour and there was a strange bright orb thing in the sky.
I think the English call it the sun although I might be getting confused with that thing that shines out of Bechkham’s arse.
Anyway, it was 11am, the patio was behaving in its intended sun trap fashion and I had dealt with the chores left for me.
I had my coffee; I had REM on the dock and nobody around to complain about it.
I had some container gardening to do and all the gear at my disposal.
A nice, relaxing day fanned out before me like a big fat royal flush.
All was going well and I was almost finished my planting. The clouds had started to appear but the promised showers had passed me by and the sun continued its thermal assault on my patio.
As I straightened, I actually felt the trickle of wetness run down to the small of my back.
It really was that hot, not a breath of wind, and I was thinking about what I might do in the afternoon.
Beer?
Guitar?
Hammock?
It was all sounding good when the biggest bastard of a black labrador I’ve ever seen saunters into the garden, tramples the shit out of everything then squats it’s big black hairy arse over the lawn and proceeds to squeeze out something resembling an Amy Winehouse hairdo?
What the F4CK!
I chose life without dogs...
I chose life without having to scoop up handfuls of shite with poly bags.
I choose a life where I can post the perpetrators crap through his owners letterbox.
If I thought I could get away with it without the kids, and everyone I know, tarring me with the same shitey stick as Ted Bundy, I would choose the biggest fuck off bazooka and ram it up the arse of every dog that’s ever opened its shitehole over someone else’s property and let f4ck at the scabby little bastards.
And so, in the absence of an Iggy boot with lust for life on it, this is just as good in a different way...
Del Amitri – Chicago 4th July 1994
http://www.sendspace.com/file/7fje8s
Inspiral Carpets – Dung4 Demo Tape
http://www.sendspace.com/file/zpbgbr
Glenn Tilbrook – The Past Has Been Bottled
http://www.sendspace.com/file/95yntc
In Tua Nua – Live In Manchester
http://www.sendspace.com/file/no8i2c
Idlewild – Live At The Garage
http://www.sendspace.com/file/s2u26y
Steve O’Donohue - Live In London
http://www.sendspace.com/file/3y8ft8
Lucinda Williams – House Of Blues
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r6wjfj
Richmond Fontaine – Live in Edinburgh
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r205t4
Whiskeytown – Acoustic Radio Sessions
http://www.sendspace.com/file/p1hfpj
The Aliens – Astronomy For Dogs
http://www.sendspace.com/file/xgnrs9
David Gray – Live At Joe’s Pub
http://www.sendspace.com/file/4okluv
and finally, Roddy Frame set from around the time of Stray. Short solo set with guest spot from Edwyn Collins followed by full band set. I Threw it all away doesn't actually belong in this set although it was on the set lits. The recording I have had it and a few other tracks removed because they had been released officially as b-sides. If anyone has it, I think on the Crying Scene single, they can link in comments for completeness sake.
Aztec Camera – Barrowlands
http://www.sendspace.com/file/zf5su7
Enjoy...
Hooli
Friday, 29 May 2009
Saturday, 16 May 2009
...wondering which of the buggers to blame...
I don’t know!
I take a couple of weeks off for a sanity check and world goes crazy.
Pigs everywhere.
Now that we’ve got politipiggypox, jordanpiggypox and piggypiggypox, I guess I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
So what does it all mean?
“the bloodfest has to stop” one minister said, after his expenses details were splattered all over one of the broadsheets like the gore in a John Carpenter movie.
Sweet f4cking mother of suffering, what in the name of the wee man is he on about.
You’d think Freddy Kreuger was rampaging through Parliament decapitating innocent women and children and generally pissing down the necks of his victims.
He needs to trawl his overpaid ministerial arse round some of the country's crime blackspots. Maybe then he'd get a closer understanding of what a bloodfest is really about.
All their dodgy house deals and expense claims.
All their extravagant luxuries donated by the taxpayer.
Are we expected to believe that our beloved parliamentary representatives have unwittingly gotten themselves embroiled in a little bit of a scandal?
Seriously, do they expect us to believe they are the innocent victims of flawed policies and insecure procedures?
If any of us mere peasants were caught with our fingers in the communal cashbox, would we really be so surprised when we were hit with the most severe censure imaginable.
Of course not but the inference from this individual is that he has done nothing wrong and the press are hounding him. If he’s so innocent, why then has he resigned?
For once the press have done the right thing and if, by going for the jugular, they drag down a number of overpaid pompous twats, it’s fine by me.
As far as I can see, it’s quite simple.
A clearly documented procedure backed by a code of conduct. Regulated, not by bought off lap dogs, but by an independent body, unbowing to the slippery antics of those who would claim to be their superiors.
Step outside the lines and you’re well and truly f4cked.
End of career; P45 in the post; appointment with the man in the big white wig; all expenses paid vacation courtesy of Her Majesty; spit roasting in the showers non-optional extra.
Of course that’s never gonna happen is it but the questions now being asked centre around how damaging this will have been, not just for the individuals concerned but also for the parties they represent.
Another way to look at this is the old ‘imagine they gave a party and nobody came’ trick
We’re always being told how important it is to vote. Imagine, with the Euro elections looming, if absolutely everybody boycotted the election and nobody got any votes.
What a f4cking hoot that would be.
Can any of us honestly say ‘I’m voting for Mr or Ms X because I trust them to look after my interests in Europe.
I know that this is guilt by association but let’s face it, if I was Hannibal Lecter’s nephew, would you let me cook your dinner.
Thought not.
Meanwhile, ripping a massive rent through the tabloids this week is the sad news that has rocked the media world to it’s very core.
Poor little Jordyjugs has been dumped by hubby Peter Andre.
Dear God, has little puppy boy finally seen sense.
On a reality TV show, that was the intellectual equivalent of Chat magazine, he hounded someone into a relationship who made her fortune out of flashing tits that invested more in silicone than the entire NASA computer bank. The country drooled, among other things, over her. Did he really think she was his for the keeping.
Soft git.
What did he expect?
Cindaf4ckinrella.
Of course, this could be wrong and possibly unfair to both of them but theirs was not so much a marriage made in heaven as a marriage made in Hello Magazine.
And so, rounding up my suine trilogy, swine flu, mad sow disease, pig fever, H1N1; call it what you will, it stopped the world. Well almost, if you live in Central America.
A few people die in a little Mexican pueblo and suddenly we’re all sprouting curly tails and smelling like Kermits tadge.
In their very own inimitable fashion, the wonderful British press built this up to be something of a global catastrophe but really, who gives a flying f4ck?
It’s not as if it’s aids or hepatitis we’re speaking about here, nor is it the bubonic plague, smallpox or consumption.
It’s the bloody flu for f4ck sake and like MRSA or CDiff, you can pick it up free of charge at any NHS hospital in the country simply by visiting a sick relative.
Spread through an airborne virus by manky bastards who have poor personal hygiene and little or no consideration for those around them, a sensible approach to keeping oneself clean is all that’s required but now, with 27 dead worldwide, just as the press predicted, it’s all reaching fever pitch.
The bollocks it is!
Last I noticed, it didn’t even raise a single mention in the news.
A couple of newlyweds bring back some sniffles with their duty free tequila; next thing my old mate Maxipops is their agent and the story is ready to be sold worldwide.
I watched the two of them on TV the other night spouting all their crap about how bad it was for their families.
Bleuchhh!
Who are they trying to kid.
No doubt they’ll be selling their story for thousands. F4cking parasites!
Movie rights to follow no doubt, cue Brad and Angelina.
In another case, medical staff reported a victim to be suffering mild flu like symptoms while the publicist claimed his 22 year old London client was “in a bad way”
The press ought to know better than to listen to this shite but then, you can only deal with so much truth, then it’s time to make some money.
It’s all about money.
Create the illusion of an imminent pandemic, rope in the unsuspecting public, sell loads of papers.
Make some dosh.
What we have to ask ourselves about this little symbiotic threesome between Clifford, the victims and the press is “where is the real virus here?”
To be perfectly honest, I have a really tough time distinguishing between the three.
And so...
We’ll try for some music.
I would have posted something to reflect my recent gigging but to be honest Blind Pilot, who were third on the bill, were the biggest revelation. Maybe my gigging experiences need to be confined to the smaller venues I’ve always preferred.
Anyway, as I said, some music and not a Counting Crows or Hold Steady album in sight...
...there is only one soundtrack to all thing piggish nonsense...
Pink Floyd - Animal Instincts
http://www.sendspace.com/file/tli80g
...some folky ditties...
Richard Thompson - Atlanta, GA
http://www.sendspace.com/file/iuxgaq
...and more from my fave folk band at their peak. To think Ian Benzie used to sing in my local...
Old Blind Dogs – Close To The Bone
http://www.sendspace.com/file/oxov01
...don’t know what to make of this guy. Times I like him, time I don’t...
Ray LaMontagne - Live
http://www.sendspace.com/file/mmntfe
...back on tour supporting the Wonderstuff, catch them if you can, Swill and the gang...
The Men They Couldn’t Hang - Live Rarities
http://www.sendspace.com/file/20vy9m
Another Susanna Hoffs collaboration. Predominantly, this is David Roback of Mazzy Starr with bits of Will Glenn from Rain Parade, Susanna Hoffs from the Bangles and many others. Bit of a precursor to the amazing Hoffs / Sweet album Under the Covers...
Rainy Day – Rainy Day
http://www.sendspace.com/file/40flwm
...great album from Motherwell’s Sam Corry and Dan O’Neill. Two guys, great songs, greater harmonies. Saw tehm live a few times in the eighties, quite simply, they were born out of time. In another generation, they would have been huge...
River Detectives – Saturday Night, Sunday Morning
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9zd8yi
...Thom Yorke doesn’t always flick my switches. Sometimes though, the originality cuts through...
Radiohead – The Basement Tapes
http://www.sendspace.com/file/o50buh
...and where would we be without good old Jackie boy...
The Raconteurs – Live In Edinburgh
http://www.sendspace.com/file/sju4nw
pretty unheard of Glasgow? Band Scheme and a weird mix of eighties new rom post punk reggae funk. Figure they just tried to jam every possible influence in there...
Scheme – Black And White
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9jovjv
and finally, to fulfil the request from a couple of weeks ago, at better bit rate and in all their glory,
the best band of the eighties, The Mackenzies
in the beginning...
Goodbye Mr Mackenzie – Good Deeds
http://www.sendspace.com/file/jndmt5
then...
Goodbye Mr Mackenzie – hammer & Tongs
http://www.sendspace.com/file/50mm4c
...what Shirley did next...
Garbage – Litter From America
http://www.sendspace.com/file/tnnizi
...what Martin, Fin & Kelly did next...
Isa & The Filthy Tongues - Addiction
http://www.sendspace.com/file/06vc0z
As for Big John and Rona Scobie, who knows?
Last time I saw big John Duncan, he was traipsing round Ikea looking decidedly not of a conventional nature. Rona, I think had kids and quit the business but I’m not sure
The Bluebells Young at Heart has just come on VH1 so it’s time to blow.
Cheers and Enjoy...
Hooli
I take a couple of weeks off for a sanity check and world goes crazy.
Pigs everywhere.
Now that we’ve got politipiggypox, jordanpiggypox and piggypiggypox, I guess I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
So what does it all mean?
“the bloodfest has to stop” one minister said, after his expenses details were splattered all over one of the broadsheets like the gore in a John Carpenter movie.
Sweet f4cking mother of suffering, what in the name of the wee man is he on about.
You’d think Freddy Kreuger was rampaging through Parliament decapitating innocent women and children and generally pissing down the necks of his victims.
He needs to trawl his overpaid ministerial arse round some of the country's crime blackspots. Maybe then he'd get a closer understanding of what a bloodfest is really about.
All their dodgy house deals and expense claims.
All their extravagant luxuries donated by the taxpayer.
Are we expected to believe that our beloved parliamentary representatives have unwittingly gotten themselves embroiled in a little bit of a scandal?
Seriously, do they expect us to believe they are the innocent victims of flawed policies and insecure procedures?
If any of us mere peasants were caught with our fingers in the communal cashbox, would we really be so surprised when we were hit with the most severe censure imaginable.
Of course not but the inference from this individual is that he has done nothing wrong and the press are hounding him. If he’s so innocent, why then has he resigned?
For once the press have done the right thing and if, by going for the jugular, they drag down a number of overpaid pompous twats, it’s fine by me.
As far as I can see, it’s quite simple.
A clearly documented procedure backed by a code of conduct. Regulated, not by bought off lap dogs, but by an independent body, unbowing to the slippery antics of those who would claim to be their superiors.
Step outside the lines and you’re well and truly f4cked.
End of career; P45 in the post; appointment with the man in the big white wig; all expenses paid vacation courtesy of Her Majesty; spit roasting in the showers non-optional extra.
Of course that’s never gonna happen is it but the questions now being asked centre around how damaging this will have been, not just for the individuals concerned but also for the parties they represent.
Another way to look at this is the old ‘imagine they gave a party and nobody came’ trick
We’re always being told how important it is to vote. Imagine, with the Euro elections looming, if absolutely everybody boycotted the election and nobody got any votes.
What a f4cking hoot that would be.
Can any of us honestly say ‘I’m voting for Mr or Ms X because I trust them to look after my interests in Europe.
I know that this is guilt by association but let’s face it, if I was Hannibal Lecter’s nephew, would you let me cook your dinner.
Thought not.
Meanwhile, ripping a massive rent through the tabloids this week is the sad news that has rocked the media world to it’s very core.
Poor little Jordyjugs has been dumped by hubby Peter Andre.
Dear God, has little puppy boy finally seen sense.
On a reality TV show, that was the intellectual equivalent of Chat magazine, he hounded someone into a relationship who made her fortune out of flashing tits that invested more in silicone than the entire NASA computer bank. The country drooled, among other things, over her. Did he really think she was his for the keeping.
Soft git.
What did he expect?
Cindaf4ckinrella.
Of course, this could be wrong and possibly unfair to both of them but theirs was not so much a marriage made in heaven as a marriage made in Hello Magazine.
And so, rounding up my suine trilogy, swine flu, mad sow disease, pig fever, H1N1; call it what you will, it stopped the world. Well almost, if you live in Central America.
A few people die in a little Mexican pueblo and suddenly we’re all sprouting curly tails and smelling like Kermits tadge.
In their very own inimitable fashion, the wonderful British press built this up to be something of a global catastrophe but really, who gives a flying f4ck?
It’s not as if it’s aids or hepatitis we’re speaking about here, nor is it the bubonic plague, smallpox or consumption.
It’s the bloody flu for f4ck sake and like MRSA or CDiff, you can pick it up free of charge at any NHS hospital in the country simply by visiting a sick relative.
Spread through an airborne virus by manky bastards who have poor personal hygiene and little or no consideration for those around them, a sensible approach to keeping oneself clean is all that’s required but now, with 27 dead worldwide, just as the press predicted, it’s all reaching fever pitch.
The bollocks it is!
Last I noticed, it didn’t even raise a single mention in the news.
A couple of newlyweds bring back some sniffles with their duty free tequila; next thing my old mate Maxipops is their agent and the story is ready to be sold worldwide.
I watched the two of them on TV the other night spouting all their crap about how bad it was for their families.
Bleuchhh!
Who are they trying to kid.
No doubt they’ll be selling their story for thousands. F4cking parasites!
Movie rights to follow no doubt, cue Brad and Angelina.
In another case, medical staff reported a victim to be suffering mild flu like symptoms while the publicist claimed his 22 year old London client was “in a bad way”
The press ought to know better than to listen to this shite but then, you can only deal with so much truth, then it’s time to make some money.
It’s all about money.
Create the illusion of an imminent pandemic, rope in the unsuspecting public, sell loads of papers.
Make some dosh.
What we have to ask ourselves about this little symbiotic threesome between Clifford, the victims and the press is “where is the real virus here?”
To be perfectly honest, I have a really tough time distinguishing between the three.
And so...
We’ll try for some music.
I would have posted something to reflect my recent gigging but to be honest Blind Pilot, who were third on the bill, were the biggest revelation. Maybe my gigging experiences need to be confined to the smaller venues I’ve always preferred.
Anyway, as I said, some music and not a Counting Crows or Hold Steady album in sight...
...there is only one soundtrack to all thing piggish nonsense...
Pink Floyd - Animal Instincts
http://www.sendspace.com/file/tli80g
...some folky ditties...
Richard Thompson - Atlanta, GA
http://www.sendspace.com/file/iuxgaq
...and more from my fave folk band at their peak. To think Ian Benzie used to sing in my local...
Old Blind Dogs – Close To The Bone
http://www.sendspace.com/file/oxov01
...don’t know what to make of this guy. Times I like him, time I don’t...
Ray LaMontagne - Live
http://www.sendspace.com/file/mmntfe
...back on tour supporting the Wonderstuff, catch them if you can, Swill and the gang...
The Men They Couldn’t Hang - Live Rarities
http://www.sendspace.com/file/20vy9m
Another Susanna Hoffs collaboration. Predominantly, this is David Roback of Mazzy Starr with bits of Will Glenn from Rain Parade, Susanna Hoffs from the Bangles and many others. Bit of a precursor to the amazing Hoffs / Sweet album Under the Covers...
Rainy Day – Rainy Day
http://www.sendspace.com/file/40flwm
...great album from Motherwell’s Sam Corry and Dan O’Neill. Two guys, great songs, greater harmonies. Saw tehm live a few times in the eighties, quite simply, they were born out of time. In another generation, they would have been huge...
River Detectives – Saturday Night, Sunday Morning
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9zd8yi
...Thom Yorke doesn’t always flick my switches. Sometimes though, the originality cuts through...
Radiohead – The Basement Tapes
http://www.sendspace.com/file/o50buh
...and where would we be without good old Jackie boy...
The Raconteurs – Live In Edinburgh
http://www.sendspace.com/file/sju4nw
pretty unheard of Glasgow? Band Scheme and a weird mix of eighties new rom post punk reggae funk. Figure they just tried to jam every possible influence in there...
Scheme – Black And White
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9jovjv
and finally, to fulfil the request from a couple of weeks ago, at better bit rate and in all their glory,
the best band of the eighties, The Mackenzies
in the beginning...
Goodbye Mr Mackenzie – Good Deeds
http://www.sendspace.com/file/jndmt5
then...
Goodbye Mr Mackenzie – hammer & Tongs
http://www.sendspace.com/file/50mm4c
...what Shirley did next...
Garbage – Litter From America
http://www.sendspace.com/file/tnnizi
...what Martin, Fin & Kelly did next...
Isa & The Filthy Tongues - Addiction
http://www.sendspace.com/file/06vc0z
As for Big John and Rona Scobie, who knows?
Last time I saw big John Duncan, he was traipsing round Ikea looking decidedly not of a conventional nature. Rona, I think had kids and quit the business but I’m not sure
The Bluebells Young at Heart has just come on VH1 so it’s time to blow.
Cheers and Enjoy...
Hooli
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