Poor Man About Town

Is nothing sacred, Van Morrison paired with Cliff. Not only that we are regaled with how joyful it is to born again. An acquaintance showed me this clip, I was shocked. I am wondering whether I should bin all my Van Morrison's cd's.

I always thought that the the flute playing on Moondance was remarkably dreadful.

For those of you, who have missed this opportunity, here is Cliff and Van. If you can't vomit, may I suggest you stick your fingers down your throat, or better sill check one of those Hazel Blears clips on youtube

Labels: Music

Now get this, I was in Camberwell today. Nipped into Kennedy's - the only indigenous non-ponsified cured meats shop in the land. Kennedy's has an awful lot of history in South East London, they are renowned for their cured meat and pies - meat, fruit and otherwise. Yep, you can go up to these ponsified markets such as the Borough market and buy into the ponsification; but Kennedy's remains true to its customers - 70+ years old. No one younger dares ventures in there. Maybe its the oldy-worldy design of the place along with its ageing clientelle. There are loads of monied idiots who like to shop in Borough Market for this kind of oldy-worldy cockney stuff; Kennedy's is not a place in which one can be seen dead.

What you get in Kennedy's, however, is some quite remarkable food. This is indigenous charcuterie where the bacon is at Knightsbridge prices, trust me, this is true - I paid two quid for four rashers, what I got, however, was lightly cured meat without any water - it was so good, it could be eaten as Parma Ham.

I bought three pork pies - none of the pink gunk that one finds in the manufactured stuff - it was all virtually grey lean meat. I bought a bottle of Frascati to see if it would complement the flavour and wow the wine and the filling just fused really nicely together.

Great stuff.

Fuck off Borough Market, preserve what is old and valuable.

Labels: Food, Lifestyle

Yes, Radio 3 is, on the whole, highbrow. It is money well-spent. It has come to the rescue when LBC has got too trashy in the mornings or when there are too many Galliard Homes ads on.

There is a programme on Montiverdi's Opera, Orpheus. I hate opera but like Montiverdi. This programme was a complete scan of the work through different interpretations. We had the history, the ambience and the period. Good commentary on the various interpretations. Some really good comments on the demands made on the musicians, including the singers. One singer gave a good on-the-spot vibrato example.

Having said that, I could not sit through the 2 - 3 hours of this work uninterrupted.

Labels: Radio

Oh Fuck, Ms Blears is running for deputy pm. This woman makes Anne Widdicome look like a rabid red, a loony lefty, bomb brigade Socialist Worker (Anne, bless her, has a lot of saving graces, Blears has none) If this woman wins the post, she will get loads of tv coverage which will only get on my nerves and throws bricks at the tv set. I read the article in today's Guardian, my areas of concern are these:

Hazel Blears will formally enter Labour's deputy leadership race tomorrow with a warning that members feel left out and disengaged, and have a relationship with the government based only on what they are reading in newspapers.

Oh yeah, most members of the New Labour have left, they no longer attend their branch meetings and will obviously read about New Labour in the press.

Ms Blears, who chairs the party, will promise to be a strong voice for Labour at the centre, offering herself as minister for delivery and trust around the cabinet table. "We have got to work harder to bring party and government together - that will be one of my main roles," she said.


What is this woman on about, New Labour and Government are one anyway. Only thing is that everyone hates New Labour and the Government.

"I am not putting myself forward as the woman candidate - but in a modern 21st-century progressive left-of-centre party, people would love to see a man and a woman," Ms Blears said. "They would like to see men and women working together to solve problems."

Left of centre of what party? The NSDAP? (The National Social Party of Germany).

Ms Blears, once seen as an ultra Blairite...

The writer of this article is completely wrong, she's more Blairite than Blair, she's a Blearite.

There have been allegations that she has been misusing her post as party chair to run an "under the radar" campaign...

That figures.

Hazel Blears is like one of those tyrannical aunts who insist on inviting you to Sunday Tea forcing cheap tinned salmon sandwiches down your throat only to be washed down with a sickly trifle, where the sponge has completely disintegrated into mush and the cream topping is made with Carnation milk. If you make up noise, she complains that you are not grateful and bursts into tears whereupon your dad gives you a clip round the ear for being fiesty. Yep, I guess that sums up Hazel Blears for me.

One thing you can say about Blears is that although she tries extremely hard, she is not very skilled in the art of delivering bullshit. That would certainly disqualify from being elected.

Labels: politics

This maybe getting very boring but I do need to have a moan. Bus was relatively empty when I caught it this morning. I took a strategic seat - the back seat in the middle ensures that you can get off before the doors close also there is an arm rest that helps avoid feeling squashed by your neighbour. I was wrong on the latter point, this bloke got on the bus wearing what appeared to be a burst matress (one of those quilted coats), he was babbling into a mobile phone - bad news, he made directions for the seat next to me (arm rest side) - the burst matress coat he was wearing pushed me half way accross my seat. Oh fuck. Fortunately, I had to suffer this for only a couple of stops. I got off the bus and my connecting bus was just pulling up - your carriage awaits - I my earphones in place - switched on the mp3 player to Johnny Winter - Guitar Slinger - cool music, like his guitar style. My pleasure was interrupted by a tinny noise intruding through my earphones, some idiot did not want to use earphones and decided to pipe his crap throughout the bus. Oh fuck, I just could not listen to Johnny Winter and had to put up with the crap that was bizzing in my ears.

Return journey was similar, there was this black guy who decided to PA his music, it was heavily peppered with words such as m~fucker and plenty of the n-word - is this self loathing or what? Maybe I have out-of-date ideas but whatever happened to "young ,gifted and black"..."black and proud"..."black is beautiful"...the ongoing celebration of ethnicity. It's as if this kind of modern rap music is saying "we are all in the gutter, but why should you be looking at the stars n~ m~fucker?"

Having said all that, the makers of this stuff may want to produce such responses as this - a white guy commenting on things that take one to the edge in the daily life, a mere bus journey. Wonder if those buggers who live in those "living with the future" houses are getting such messages with their dinner party jazz.

The bus pulled up by a stop where this white guy with dangerous dog without a leash wanted to board the bus. The driver had given this some thought because he stopped for a few micro seconds to let white guy and dangerous dog on the bus, but decided against it. The wretched animal was without a leash and guess on whose leg he would be dining, mine! Thank you Mr Bus Driver for not letting arse hole and dangerous dog on bus. The arse hole looked somewhat indignant and perplexed. Well if you bought a fucking leash for your fucking dog, you might have better luck in boarding buses.

Labels: Travel

I was watching BBC4 News tonight, there was a great little item on a theme park in Mexico, the theme being illegal immigration into the US. People pay a tenner a time to experience what it feels like to cross the US frontier illegally and to be shot at (blanks). Amnesty International says that it is trivialising the plight.

The US equivalents of "disgusted of Tunbridge Wells" and Daily Mail readers are quite vexed that the Mexicans are being quite cynical about their border controls - viz can be found in this link - US Today (be patient for download)

The biggest and tragic irony is that Mexican children and babies are flogged off to rich US childless couples - so there you have it; Mexicans are still getting into the US despite its Berlin Wall.

Gosh, you've got to hand it to the Mexicans they have a better sense of irony than us - which, sadly, we are fast losing.

Labels: The International Scene

I love to hate these programmes. Simpering Simon Davis goes to a house that looks like a cross between the interior the Starship Enterprise (the Next Generation) cum modern hamster cage, the sort with clear coloured plastic tube type walkways etc. Simon Davis was awash with all the crap words - "mezzanine bedroom" - what the fuck is that? A place where visitors can buy ice creams, ki-ora and pop corn from the occupant to consume while watching the telly. The living room had a fucking swimming pool in it. The lady of the house kept on calling Simon Davis "Sweetie". The house was supposedly carbon friendly - computer controlled - "a house with a brain as well as a conscience". The computer would pink and blue out the place that it started to look like a lap dance club. Gosh! Then the family had supper - nightclub jazz, what is it about jazz, this noble art form attracting so many pretentious turds - I guess it's the pose potential. I could see no black people at this supper so the next best thing would do - Yep JAZZ! I'm sophisticated, I've got JAZZ! A mere style accesory. A CD with a photo of a black guy nonchantally placed on the coffee table makes a good surrogate for having real token black people to supper! One can avoid all that embarr.assment



How can anyone live in a house like that.

And if you want to sick up even further, here's the bbc blurb for the programme:

Shoe-horned into a Victorian mews on the site of an old car workshop the house is almost invisible from the street. Inside, it's as if Simon has gone to high tech heaven. A swimming pool in the living room, lighting and heating all controlled by a central computer and a serious attempt at greener living are all on display along with an enormous sliding glass roof which brings football stadium technology into a family home

Labels: Lifestyle

...it's M & S Litter.

Bussing it continues to be fun.

I was travelling through North London today. This young, well-dressed, woman got on the bus and sat in the seat opposite. She pulled out a magazine from a Marks & Sparks carrier bag and put the bag between her legs on the floor of the bus. She took out an advertising insert and put it in the same place. She got off the bus with the intention of leaving the M & S bag and insert behind on the floor. I had to beckon to her saying that she had forgot the said items. The bus was clean and tidy and void of any litter, but as soon as one item of litter is left it starts to regenerate itself geometrically - discarded newspapers, kentucky fried chicken boxes (complete with chicken bones) empty beer cans etc start to make the bus look like a dustcart. Yep, these are the people who shop at M & S. This is their mentality, they just cannot be arsed to take others and their environment into consideration.

Labels: Lifestyle, Litter, M and S

I bought this boxed dvd set of the first series of M*A*S*H, love the film and love the tv series - the latter was a great tv spinoff thanks to the scripts, actors and directors - no mean feat. Alan Alda's timing is perfect in that he delivers his lines with great surgical precision - great stuff. My disc set, however, is sabotaged to deliver canned laughter every time I put a disc on. So any kind of humour, subtle or otherwise, is destroyed. I have to go to the menu and state the preference that I do not want canned laughter. This is bollocks, why can't the dvd company flog the discs with or without canned laughter. Why should I go to the menu to switch off the shit. The biggest irony is that the canned laughter operator does not appear in the credits. I loved to be employed as a canned laughter operator, especially with BBC1's news programmes, these really do need a laugh track.

Labels: Television

I usually drive around, but there are numerous arseholes on the road, who make the experience of driving a trifle frightful. I am on an anti-carbon drive so I am bussing around. Trust me, it's great fun. You have to put up with an awful lot. Careful not to sit in the elderly and people with children seats. Find a perch elsewhere. There is the usual tyranny of those who have pushchairs containing brats who squawk and squeal. There are the mobile phone tyrants who unload their personal lives in the cabin of the bus. There are the huge people who budge you off your seat if you are sitting on the outside and if you are sitting on the inside you are squashed up against the window.

I travelled on the bus today - it was a catalogue of experiences. The bus in front refused to budge, it would seem that there were around a dozen youth above the age of fourteen who attempted to travel for free. The driver refused to move the bus. I could see things were getting a bit leary on the bus in front. Eventually, the youths caved and got off the bus.

I attempted to read my book. OK until towards the end of my journey. Some fucking selfish young women, well-wrapped for Arctic conditions (thermal hat and scarf etc) decided to open the window - the draft blew into my face and around my ears. This fucking woman decided to babble away into a mobile. Had my journey been longer, I would have insisted that she close the window, if not I think I would have complained to the driver. That young woman was a selfish little shit!

Labels: Travel

We were subject to yet another programme simpering on crap home architecture by Simon Davies tonight. He went to some large gaff in Lancashire, it was by owned by some property developer and got some award for it. The place was called the Old Zoo, and yep , it looked a bit like the Elephant House at London Zoo. The grounds were liberally littered with modern art sculptures - cheapo derivatives of Henry Moore - designed to say "I am more incredibly richer than yow!". The owner had split the house into four wings - formal, informal, office and kiddies' wing - the kiddies wing had a plate steel door on it - this was the elephant house at London Zoo!. The whole house was a confection of concrete, thatch, glass and bullshit. With its wooden floors, white walls, glass this and that, views to this and that and leather upholstered furniture, it looked like an alcohol recovery clinic for celebrities.

Labels: Lifestyle

It's M & S Bullshit.

There is sub-class of the middle-class. Like the working class, the middle class has its lumpen element too. They are the sort of people to whom M & S directs its get on your nerves campaign (why not, New Labour has been successful with this horrible lot).

These people get on your nerves and in your face. They fill up your favourite restaurants with kiddies birthday parties that make the place sound a battery farm. They are making housing unaffordable by buying up property that they do not really need but as an investment. They are responsible for those horrible lifestyle programmes on television by generating the demand for this crap - they are culturally shallow that it must come of the 'accessible' flatpack, viz "Chill Out Classical". Their ideology is competitive and tread on your head. They drive those horrendous vehicles that look like a cross between a hearse and a Securicor van with which they clog up the roads in the mornings because they insist on driving their adult children to school. They barge around the supermarket as if they were driving the said vehicles, they carry the usual countenance "get the fuck out of my way". Gosh! they are so ill-mannered that they would not be able to live amongst a troop of baboons! I am going to give this sub-class a name - M&ndieS - pronounced Mandies. All we need is an economic and these buggers will come tumbling down to the nearest Homeless Families' Unit along with their horrible kids - that'd be fun.

Labels: Class

I have given up eating poultry that is not free-range. I find all this factory farmed business sickening. I just cannot eat a chicken let alone a turkey. The way these poor birds are kept really does upset me. I guess many people do not share my qualms and will regularly hit the chicken tikka masala, kfc, turkey joints, turkey slices. I am pleased that this bird flu business is bringing home the point that animals are not for the factory - disease can spread like wildfire through such places. Let this be a lesson to all factory farmers.

Labels: Food

Cooking in the danger zone.

Stefan took us to Chernobyl in the Ukraine; he entered the exclusion zone. Despite high levels of radio activity, the flora and fauna seems to be flourishing. The high levels of radiation did not deter people from living in the zone. There was an old man on a bicycle with an axe on board, ready for one of the wild boars that he intends to take home for him. Why Stefan asked him whether he eats the boars that he kills, the old man replied "why not!" giving a thumbs up. He then met Anna, a fiesty old lady, who cooked him and et al borscht, potato and noodle soup. The entire crew were treated to this lunch, the driver downed a raw egg straight from the shell. In spite of the prohibition not to eat anything, Stefan ate the soup and downed a glass of home made plum brandy. Stefan asked the old lady why she returned to her land after evacuation, she said that she lived in a place where the earth was black and that your feet would sink in the mud - she could not grow anything.

Stefan's humanity and easygoingness is a shining example of attitude who is around twenty years my junior. I liked this programme, I liked the attitude. I liked the people whom he encountered, they seemed to be like those rustic characters that one finds in Tolstoy's books.

Great stuff.

Labels: Food

I had to switch off LBC today - Galliard Homes is back with a vengance! They have changed the ad and bunged the Horse of the Year show theme music as its background. In the foreground, there is this voice yelling at you to buy their property...the tedium...this is the price we have to pay for a decent radio station - it's London rival BBC London is unlistenable, it's real shit.

Labels: Radio

I was listening to James O'Brien's programme on LBC today. One of the items under discussion was around interior design. James O'Brien took the thoughts out of my head when he expressed the view that interior design is a micky mouse job - something "for rich people who can't be arsed". He had an interior designer on the show; she was extremely defensive - pointing out that she is indemnified for £2m insurance because of her occupation. He questioned the notion of qualification. She explained that interior designers are knowledgable about textiles, colours (and that dreaded word) minimalise etc. Something of which we all have knowledge. The woman was quite defensive. Seems that it costs thousands to have your gaff interior designed. Why not do it yourself, save money. It's good to hear of such myths being exploded - maybe we will be saved home improvement programmes on the telly

Labels: Lifestyle

BBC4 has this terrible programme called 'Living with the future' - this week's episode focussed on a (wait for it) a fucking barn conversion, the berk presenting this assured that it was not just any barn conversion with all the "chintzy" things. No we were told that the barn makes good use of light and minimalism (eek! - if I hear that word again, I'll scream). Heard it again "why are you drawn to the minimalism" the berk asked the owner. "Light and symetrical shapes" oh fuck. The interior of the barn was like your local health centre with bad acoustics - the sound of brats reverberating. The brats did more talking than the owner. The mother's bedroom looked like the sort of place in which you would not want to die. "The simple stone bath and sink are stunning"

I thought BBC 2 was to channel to deal with this shit.

Labels: Television