Thursday, 30 April 2009


Turn of fortune at a service station on the way home from a pillers gig last night. 

just the two and a half words you wanna see at 1 in the morning when there's still 80 miles on the sat-nav.
Check it though this Pic-N-Mix was different.
the woman told us that if we get a bag then she weighs it and charges us for our sugary kid crack per gram.

But if we pay £3 we can have a cup..... yeah a cup, 
imagine like a Super-Size Macky D's coke cup... well if we get a cup then whatever we can get in it we can have.
Me and Jon got one each.

Based with Rolls of astrobelts
packed three fifths deep with gummy/jelly sweets pressed down to half way.
Follow the Jelly with a layer of foam based sweets, (bananas, eggs, etc) compress again. then filled remaining space with chocolate shapes, white mice, ice-creams and similar hard potentially milk based confectionery.finished with a massive fucking jelly dolphin on the top
bang a lid on that shit and get the fuck out £3 well spent.

Got half a carrier bag of Pic-N-Mix in't'car now.
Can't really eat it all, it makes me feel sick. Plus I'm a little bit worried about digesting all that gelatin, I've got a feeling it's probably gunna be about 80% still intact when it reappears in a day or so.

Monday, 27 April 2009

Follow that blog.

Friend of mine sent me this picture. 

He spotted that little chinese fella who banged into me a few blogs ago.

 Still ain't had his bumper fixed.

It does look like he's added more tape, 

so that's something I s'pose.

If anyone else spots him let me know eh.

Grand opening/grand closing.

Big News in the whole redevelopment of Leicester. The improvements in our city's shopping and cultural quarters is about to be eclipsed by what's about to happen in the LE3 area.
If you don't know what I'm talking about then you obviously havn't got as keener eye as me for the old customised signage.
Check it.
Yeah I know, It's proper exciting.
Forget Waga Mama's, fuck Nando's and who gives a shit about Yo Sushi.
Finally, Spuds R Us is opening soon in Leggy.
I can't wait to get my first one,
avec beans-on/cheese-on.

Oi mate is that your daughter?

Pillers had a gig in Leeds t'other day.
With these guys.

It was here.

We met this guy

He was proper fucking massive.

After the gig this girl asked me to sing one of our songs for her. I said I couldn't do it without the band. She said I should just do it Acapulco.

Next gig's London on Wednesday. see yu there yeah?!

Thursday, 23 April 2009

Manc shit.

Now if like me you grew up in Leicester, (although this is probably true of all East-Midlands cities) then you’ve been conditioned since birth to be a pessimist.
Pessimistic to a point whereby you become a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. 
Check my e.g.
“Yu wanna go to this thing tonight?”
“Dunno its gunna be shit.”
“Yeah it’ll be shit, we should still go though eh.’
“Alright but I bet it’s shit.”

See now I’ve personally been both people in that conversation on a number of occasions, and guess what, the nights were always shit. Mostly due to the fact that we went there on a downbeat expecting it to be shit. When we where there we maintained this over idea of shitness and projected it out into the hive-mind and surrounding idea-space.
Perhaps the funniest thing about these occasions is the strangely proud way we talk about the evening after we’ve left, “See, I told you it’d be shit.”

Well anyway
I’ve been away from all that this week. Living and working in Manchester (formally Gunchester).
Tell you what, I liked it a lot.

I was working in this castle thing pictured below. Contact theatre (link)

I’m working with Nikka D from Virus syndicate; we’re at the very early stages of building something really good so look out for more info.

I was staying in Hulme with My friends Frisco and Robert.

I was staying in Hulme with my friends Frisco and Robert.

Robert’s Rad as fuck. Check him out Saturday evening. Badman.

I met him through Frisco, he does stuff like me eh, we met in 2006 when we we’re both working with da-yute-dem on a residential poetry project in Warwick then again as residents of the process06 festival in Manchester. We get on eh.

You might have seen him last Friday talking about gun culture in Manchester on the One Show.

Did you know Nobody’s been killed by a gun in Manchester for the last year. Big progress for the city.
Frisco used to be involved with Gang culture and still lives in what’s considered to be a pretty rough area 5 minutes walk from Contact. The attitude of optimism from every person I met around that area was over whelming.
The creative scene that’s centred at Contact Theatre and the surrounding areas is amazing
. So many talented people supporting each other and creating a scene that supports them in return.
Also in Manchester when people go out they go out to have a good time. Because of this they have a good time when they’re out. Simple init. Much better than the attitude I was conditioned to have.

On Friday night I went out with my new “good time” attitude. I got to have a look at the other side of Manchester’s coin. More specifically I went to see my friend Nicola who’s been working in Korea for the last year and a half.
She was visiting some people she’d been there with who’d moved back here now. I’d spoken to Nicola and found out that she was actually staying less than 2 miles from where I was, so like 5 mins in a taxi. As I hung up the phone to her I started to dial the taxi I relayed the information of my location/destination to the operative on the other end of the line hung up the phone and prepared to wait the 5 minutes he’d stated the taxi would take. 50 minutes and multiple phone calls later I’m still stood waiting on a street corner in one of Manchester’s less salubrious areas still waiting for this joker.
When he finally rocks up and I give him the address he asks me if I know how to get there. I told him I ain’t from here but he’s a taxi driver and if he don’t know then his Sat-Nav probably does. He then types the postcode and selects the street and off we go. This part of the journey takes but 8/9 minutes and the when we pull over the meter says like £4.60.
He’s like “this is it?”
I’m like “is it?”
He’s like “is it?”
I’m like “what?”

I read him the address from my text message inbox and we look at the street sign. Turns out this isn’t it.
I get my friend back on the phone and she puts her friend on who gets me to put the taxi man on to direct him. He takes the phone puts it to his ear and smiles while she explains the way. He nods and passes me the phone back without saying a word. I thank the friend and hang up. Then we sit for a minute until I realise he has not listened to anything she said.
I’m like “eh mate, let me see yu sat-nav”
By the time I’d directed him there, the meter said £10.80 I give him between £3-£5 and told him he could shut the fuck off.
Nicola and her friends took me to Canal Street to the cheesiest mainstream clubs playing all the worst music from your past. I stood awkwardly at the side watching as they became locked into a strange transcendental state where they performed the obligatory movement sequences assigned to songs like the Macarena and Saturday night dance.
I left them in the early morning and took a taxi back that cost me a fiver.
Saturday Morning was Manny Meanball with the Hulme globetrotters.

Check how Ghetto the court we played at is.
That’s Ty he’s going to the NCAA next year to play for real. He proper owned the rest of us yu get me.
After that I went into town with Robert to have a look at TK Maxx and the bespoke tailors.
Manchester Centre’s got some crazy architecture. Look at these things.

I think I’m back in Manchester in July and I’m excited at the possibilities that that might hold.

I might even start going out,

But don’t hold yu breath,
Cos it’ll probably still be shit.

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Don't bother Watching the Watchmen (film).

D'yu remember a little wile ago I was talking about Watchmen?
I posted a link to a torrent for the motion comic and said I was actually gunna go to the cinema and see it.
Well I actually tried to do that.

I checked out times on the internet and decided to go for the 11.30 on a Friday night showing, the theory being that the film'd finish about 2ish, perfect time for a bit of masked vigilantying.
Anyway me and my friend Melvin got proper high, then went down to the new Cinima de Lux located on the lumpy left shoulder of Leggy's new dormant robot corpse/shopping emporium, the Highcross centre.

must have been about 11.02 as my hand touched the front door, we pushed open the cinema's mouth and were swallowed into the foyer. There I stood with my stoned face, face to face with this stone-faced woman.
I'm like "Watchmen, 2 of us."
She's like "Not on any more"
I'm like "What we missed the start?"
She's like "It's not on any more."
I'm like "uuuuh."

Long story short, it wern't on. We didn't even bother going out adventuring just went to our respective homes and went to sleep, rubbish.

Anyway following a recommendation from another friend I decided to just watch it on-line yesterday. To be fair if I had gone to see it at the cinema then this would probably be a blog about me getting kicked out of the cinema for shouting at the screen for 2 hours 45 minutes (2 minutes longer than the film's running time.)

Right first off Hollywood,
Rorschach is one of the best characters in any comic ever. In fact I'd say he's one of the best characters in anything ever. Hollywoods Rorschach is a sloppy edit of diary highlights performed weekly and out of context. 
It hurts me to see brilliance diluted to the point of average.

Also why the fuck are you changing the end of the story?
That's not what happens.

here's a quote, "I deal in Fiction I don't deal in Lies." Alan Moore.
What he means by that is that He spent a lot of time writing the story. A story filled with spectacular events and characters, but a story that feels real. A story that rings true.
Here's another quote,
"This film is awful," John Berkavitch

The amount of things that have been unexplained/forgotten/omited in the transition/metomorpasis from book to film makes it not worth making the film, no wonder Alan Moore didn't want his fucking name on it. Just quickly have you ever seen a picture of Alan Moore?

I got a lot of respect for the unkempt beard and scarecrow haircut, 
it's a strong look.

What I will say for the film is if you're a fan of the old crotch shots then mate you are in for a treat.
My favorite of these being in the sex scene between Silk Specter and 4 Dr Manhattens.
At one point there's a panning wide shot of 4 flacid blue penises, (or is that Peni?)Although if it is extended shots of full frontal male nakedness your lookning for, then fuck Watchmen, I'd recommend watching Oz the HBO Drama series from 1997.
Yu know the one in the prison,
guy in a wheelchair telling the story
Yeah that one. Oz.
I watched six seasons of Oz over the last 2 weeks, intense. 
You can watch all the first season on here. message me if you want links to the rest.

To conclude if you ain't seen the Watchmen film don't bother, watch the motion comic.(link) Or better yet read the fucking book.

Also I've still got to tell you about my history as a crime fighter. Don't worry I ain't forgotten just not typed it up yet.

Monday, 13 April 2009

Fine Art; Painting

Being an Artist alot of my days are spent asking rhetorical questions.

You know what rhetorical questions are don't you?

anyway one question that drove my Artistic practice throughout obtaining my degree was, 
What is Art?
this became What is an Artist?
the answers are An Artist is someone who makes Art, 
and Art is something made by an Artist when the Artist's intent is to make Art.
So what this means is that if it's been agreed that you are an Artist then anything you make intending it to be Art, is infact Art.
The people who decide who's an Artist or not are other Artists and the Arts establishment.
It's basically about knowing the right people.
In fact I remember in the second year we had a 2 hour lecture about how to get a residencey with a gallery after graduation.
I can summize those two hours in twelve words.
Move to London and become friends with someone who owns a Gallery.
Bullshit, (Why was I paying tuition Fees?)
Anyway, It has been agreed on a few different occasions that I am actually an Artist, (Other Artist, The Art's council, Royal Opera House and The Gardian Art's section have all said so.)
This week I've been making Art, working in the medium of paint on wood.
I've created a series of three works and by each I've given a short explaination of the piece.

Door one
A well used door.
2 coats under coat.
1 coat gloss.
In this site specific piece the Artist explores ideas of haste, speed and general carelessness in an attempt to truly represent the practical aspects of  the piece's surrounding location.

Door Two
A toilet door.
2 coats undercoat.
1 coat gloss.
touched up gloss after drying.
This piece is sited adjacent to the first piece working to give ballance and a feeling of equilibrium. In this instance the Artist has chosen to continue to add to the piece after it had reached a stage of completion thus reflecting aspects of the human condition. 

Door three
A back door.
3 coats undercoat.
3 coats gloss.
Without doubt the Tour de Force of the series.
With this piece the Artist has explored the themes of pointlessness and repitition, and in doing so both exposes and highlights the mundanity of modern existence.
 The increased level of workmanship and attention to detail is dynamically juxtaposed by the pieces challenging location. The artist's own exploration of this paradigm lead to the following statement.

"It's the fact that it seems almost completely pointless that makes me feel like it's important."

Sunday, 12 April 2009

Bumping my Bumper

So I'm sat at the lights and as red becomes green I start to pull off.
but literally just before the biting point bit it's point I hear the slam and feel the shudder.
"what the fuck was that? did I just crash into someone?"
Turns out No, someone crashed into me.

introducing this little fella.

As you no doubt can see this didn't look like the first time he'd had a head on collision recently.
I particularly like the fact that the front half of his car is held together by sello-tape, hope and the dents of previous crashes.

So I'm like, "Mate! yu just fucking crashed into meh"
He's like, (Nodding) "Yes crashed"
I'm like "didn't you see me?"
He's like "The light was green."
I'm like, "Mate! was my car in the road?"
He's like, "yes"
I'm like, "So what are you doing?"
He shrugged.
I'm like "Have you got insurace mate, gimmy yu details etc."
he fumbled a partial explaination about not having it here or someone else having it somewhere else.
I said about the front of his car looking like he does this all the time. 
He's like, (nodding)"Yes all the time."
I'm like, "show me some I.D mate I'm reporting this to the police,"
he showed me this.

Now you might want to take a minute to look at both pictures.
Yeah you're right, it's not the same guy.
I'm like, "I need something with an address fella, yu got ownt else?"
He shruggs.
I'm like, "Mate! if I call the police you could lose you licence."
he's like, "I won't, I have not got a licence."
I'm like, "you've not got a licence,"
He's like, (nodding and smiling) "No, no licence."
I'm like, "look mate gimmy fifty quid and fuck off yeah."

After standing in the road for about another 5 minutes of haggling 
we settled on £30.
He payed up and we both fucked off.

Thursday, 9 April 2009

teenage girls.

My cousins are at my house at the minute.
Eski and Ruth.
13 and 14.
I said I was gunna put um on my Blog.
Ruth said that's not how you spell Gunner. (and apparently that way was even wronger).
I said do some cool things and I'll blog it.

I don't want to document my cool things cos they just happen.

you don't no one sees them happen

yes the do my real friends
like Rosey and Felix and Martha and Dryer
(?) and Alice has x box.

you've just been documented.

and you spelt all their names wrong and actually get rid of martha because i don't have any fun times with her anyway, rep[lace her with Georgia. 
why are you writing this.
what is the point in writing that down.

Can't put a proper picture of them because my uncle says it's not appropriate. I agree.

That's their left hands.

King of summer

Dunno if you know this or not but last year I was the official king of the UK Summer.

I've been planning my festivals for this year recently. Working out which ones I want to go to and where/if I might want to perform at any.
So far it looks like going to 5 performing at 2. Good ratio I think.

Anyway, it got me thinking about this thing I almost wrote last year about
sex at festivals. 
See I didn't have a blog then so I'm gunna put it up here, now.

Yu know it all seams very romantic,
You meet a
girl at a festival, 
Everything seems magical,
Yu feel like you’ve really connected,
You take her
back to your tent, or you go back to hers,
Smoke a spliff together, or drink a little whisky or something,
You both get in your sleeping bag,
And just start
exploring and discovering each other,
Yu know just
mutually experiencing and sharing in this perfect festival moment of loveliness,
It’s a beautiful, romantic, idea,
The idea that is,
But then when it comes down to the actual reality of it,
And its
about 5 o clock in the morning, the sun’s already come up and now it’s really pressing against the outside of yu tent, turning the inside into some kind of stinking, humid, sweat-ridden, claustrophobic, slow boiling, canvass oven,

When yu find yuself slumped across the back half of a girl you never really found that attractive, 
a girl who's been becoming steadily less attractive in the last sort of twenty minutes,
And yu repeatedly bashing your hips into her hips as you struggle unsuccessfully to thumb a semi-flaccid, festival-weathered penis into a well-used yet surprisingly arid and unyielding vagina,

And as yu gasping for breath, and the mucus your sweating falls from your face into the small off her back and the nylon of the tents clammy innards cling to your weary shoulders,
And as yu look down at the business end it becomes obvious that there is no way your gunna be able to push your increasingly indifferent windsock of a penis into what now looks like a necklace of human ears and bacon fat,

And yu just trying to cough up enough saliva to be able to swallow
even though you know it’s a lost cause, and the stink of piss and sweat and shit and cum and blood and earth and nylon and baby wipes and stale smoke and cock and feet and vagina catches the back of yu throat making yu retch and gag almost choking you on yu own dry tongue,

Yu just got to say tu yuself,

Ah god

This is awful.