Here are the lads, pictured in early rehearsals for what promises to be a great event! Tickets on sale from April 1st.
Chin up, it’ll all be over by Christmas! Time to dig out those tattered unfinished paperbacks you bought when you were 16 because you thought they made you look sophisticated – the ones in the loft that you’ve never been arsed to dump at the chazza. Give ’em a second chance! You aren’t going anywhere more interesting for the forseeable, so you may as well get stuck in. You’ve seen everything worth seeing on Netflix and Amazon, and you can’t bring yourself to wade through any of those boxed sets of DVDs all over again, can you? Save electricity, open a book, put your feet up and pay attention to the page. That’s better. Proper relaxation, not artificial distraction.
This last week I’ve just done three Jack Reachers in quick succession, a guilty romping. Before that I enjoyed a very intriguing visit to The Stopping Places courtesy of Damian Le Bas. Next I’ve lined up Who Owns England by Guy Shrubsole.
What are you planning to read for the next few months while the world collapses?
Please, please let this mean that the Blonde Berk will now fire that twat Gove? Please, please.
Well then, that settles it, she’s guilty.
*I can’t believe I’ve had to use the term “Home Secretary” in the same stream of thought as that woman’s name.
Your thoughts on the latest turmoil to ripple through the disfunctional crowd that is the Boris Gang?
There are many songs out there that are older than I am, songs older than my house, older even than the village in which I live. Some of the oldest songs are lost, gone forever with the loss of those who last sang them, and some are still sung, having reached some form of critical mass, and will last for years to come, and finally there are some that fall between these two extremes.
These songs that still hang on by their refrains, resisting the silence, are perhaps known and sung by only a very few people or are maybe even partially lost with only a few verses still known, and these songs are a rich seam that repays investigation, reveals much of interest, plumbs deep emotions and gritty historical experience, provides reflections upon our modern world that often reveal profound takes on humanity that we’d easily have missed without the added perspective of history. They deserve to be preserved, these songs that crystallise the wisdom of elders as sung art. Excitingly, it is often these diminished, shattered and incomplete works that can be manoeuvred or cajoled into revealing things their authors and countless previous singers had never imagined.
“Mr Gove told BBC Radio 5 Live that the prime minister described his political outlook as that of a “green Tory” when they first met 30 years ago. “Ever since then I’ve seen his dedication to ensuring that we fight to ensure that our Earth is handed on in a better state to the next generation,” he said.”
Do you really expect anyone to swallow such a ludicrous arslikan statement Mr. Gove?
I call you a LIAR. A shameless, vacuous, self-serving transparent LIAR.
Is it just me, or have other Doctor Who fans also simply finally abandoned the show, badly disappointed and bored by the last couple of series?
I can’t stand the shouty attention-deficit styling, the constant bloody screwdriving, the anodyne “companions” who are like a cheapskate crew on a Radio 2 afternoon show making asinine interjections every two minutes, the over-busy direction and the lack of a decent story arc lasting more than 40 minutes start to finish. You’d think it was a kid’s show for the ADHD generation. It’s really gone to pot lately, and I can’t be bothered anymore.
Anyone else resorting to watching elsewhere when it’s on these days?
We knew it was coming, but how sad it feels to have finally lost such a marvellous talent. Heartfelt condolences to family and friends. I’ll spend the rest of the day screeching, “He’s not the messiah, he’s a very naughty boy” to all and sundry.
This fool thinks electric aircraft are the solution to aviation pollution.
This fool hasn’t stopped to wonder how the electricity is generated in the first place, and how it is then stored in a battery full of elements dug from the ground using deisel engined machines, and how it is subsequently to then be used to power machines made largely of steel and aluminium, also harvested from the Earth using large machines that usually run on diesel, in order to get him from London to Aberdeen more quickly than any other form of transport. This fool is our Transport Secretary. This fool exemplifies the stupidity and cluelessness of the politicians running this country. This fool should get off his over paid arse and fucking well walk from London to Aberdeen.
I bet he never saw that coming.
In an effort to retreat somewhat from the frontline of bile, I will be attemtping to follow the following words of wisdom, stolen directly from the BBC’s website; that turbulent wen of vile, spittle-flecked communist ranting that poisons our world with grotesquely partisan fake news:
How to disagree better – eight tips
1) You don’t have to agree – disagreeing itself isn’t the problem, it’s how we do it. 2) Don’t aim for the middle ground – splitting the difference isn’t the answer when you fundamentally disagree. 3)How you talk is more important than what you talk about – “What matters is the dynamic that exists between us,” says couples counsellor Esther Perel. 4)Speak truthfully – to form meaningful relationships what’s needed is total honesty. 5)Listen intently and aim for empathy – it’s all about “a willingness to take in what the other person says,” says Esther Perel. 6) Dial down the rhetoric and rein in the insults – “No one in history has ever been insulted into agreement,” says Harvard professor Arthur Brooks. 7) Understand the difference between fact and opinion – opinions are perspectives to be tested against the evidence, not just weapons to be wielded against our » Continue Reading.
And if you do, this is the sort of scum you’ll be aligning yourself with:
..in this country, who are STUPID enough to vote for Farrago?
Have you seen the treacherous swine today, waving his little “contract” and spouting nonsense while the telly feed him the oxygen of publicity in tankfulls? Why aren’t we seeing the election addresses of the various Monster Raving Loony candidates around the country as well; they make a lot more sense than he does.
Shall we run a book on this? What do you reckon? A million? More? Less? There surely cannot be enough people dim enough to believe a word he says?
Perhaps we could pursuade the Chinese to find room for them in one of their “re-education” facilities? Perhaps we should open our own such facilities? Maybe we just need to explain gently to them that they are, sadly, being royally shafted by Mr. Frog-Face? Or maybe just cut the crap and inform them that they are witless sheep?
Of course, we could try to change their minds in more subtle and enlightened ways with patient logic, informed reasoning and the promise of new net curtains.
If you have a single jazz gene in your DNA, grab this now while you can. I don’t recall seeing this programme mentioned here before – so this is a heads-up to anyone who’s gleefully picked up Rudy Van Gelder remasters at a fiver a pop in Fopp over the years, or who has a few old Blue Note originals on their shelves. Or both, for that matter.
Not sure if anyone else has pointed this out, but the radio play of Arthur was broadcast yesterday afternoon on Radio 4 and is now avialable to stream via the “sounds” pages on the beeb website, for about another month at the time of writing. Which means you can also grab it and keep it longer for consumption at your leisure using certain software options, should you be of a dodgy nature, which no-one here is, obviously, m’lud.
I thought it was a cracking production, and I’d recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in the Kinks, just as a rather fabulous piece of radio storytelling if nothing else. The musical accompaniment is of course absolutely top hole, and a Kinks fan will greatly enjoy the show.
Hopefully the link will appear somewhere here – I’ve cut’n’pasted it into that snazzy little “Add a link” box.
I swear, if another poorly supervised artificial-colouring and chemical-additive enhanced little horror in day-glo face paint rings our door-bell this evening, sending my poor dogs into a frothing frenzy of fear, offering me a choice between a trick or a treat in the name of some crass American commercialisation of All Hallow’s Eve, I’ll garrote the little fucker and swing for it.
Am I alone in HATING this fucking nonsense?
It’s Friday afternoon, the working week is over and it’s DANCING TIME! Meet at the ditch?
No, that’s not a tangential insult aimed at the bearded brigade or the rucksack-toting tattooed wonder children, but a computer game.
It’s set in Sweden in the 1980s, and has you trying to unravel the mystery of why the country’s huge arsenal of autonomous defence robots has gone postal. Me neither, I had no idea that Sweden was a) riddled with huge underground defence bunkers – probably true in hindsight, what with the history with the pesky neighbours and all – and b) awash with massive autonomous killer robots almost 40 years ago. But there you go.
So the premise is simple; when you get back from your hols on a remote island, everyone has either buggered off or been slaughtered by the civil defence ironwork, which is now roaming the (vast) countryside shooting at things that breathe and move. You can play solo, as I have been for a few weeks now, or in co-op with others, which is likely where the biggest fun is to be had.
So my question is this – do any other Massivistas indulge in this hoot of a game on their PC?
There’s an album out there I’d like to tell you of, one of those that’s slipped under the radar – well at least under my radar – which has a very special magic all of it’s own and a bright charm that won’t fail to delight anyone with ears to hear great things.
I came across it as a result or having gone to see June Tabor sing last week in her guise as the voice of Quercus. I wondered about other collaborations she’d done, and found this album: Singing The Storm by Tabor/Thompson/Stevenson.
While listening to my newly received copy this evening, I note with surprise its general unavailability, yet astonished that there are currently other copies available from the dodgers at fairly silly prices – and I don’t mean silly high prices, I mean for a modest amount of quids.
This album is a glorious delight and richly repays close listening – the playing is phenomenal. My advice is to grab a copy while there are some to be had – I’m bewitched by it.
I’m repurposing my potting shed. It’s going to be a Customs post for the border with Ireland. The great thing is it’s a couple of hundred miles from both the Republic and Norn, so it won’t affect the Good Friday agreement. Trouble is I’ll need to make a substantial infrastructure investment to install the weighbridge where the veg plot currently sits.
Anyone fancy coming in on the investment?
Oh, and we’ll need some stables for the Unicorns.
It’s 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon. I’ve just finished a particularly gnarly piece of work and I’m looking to call it a week and lay back into some music and beer. The primary school opposite Foxy Towers is kicking out in a few minutes and the yummy’s have started to appear in their oversized SUVs, parking badly in the narrow lane outside, just up from the school entrance, so that Jasmine and Teejay don’t have more than 30 metres to walk.
The one parked right outside my office window has a truck the size of Wiltshire, still has the engine running, and is concentrating hard on her mobile, probably trying to find TOWIE on Neflux or something equally engrossing. She’s breaking two traffic laws simultaneously, and pissing me off into the bargain. I go downstairs and put the kettle on for a wind-down cuppa, look out the the back and yes, she’s still there pumping fumes and tapping away. So I stroll out and walk around to the driver’s window. “Hello, would you mind turning your engine off while you wait, please?” I ask, polite and everything.
The response, with a snarl: “Why?”.
She’s straight in » Continue Reading.
For no other reason than to wish you all a truly restful and happy weekend in the midst of it all.