Something for the Weakened

Archive for June, 2007

Reforming the Banned

June 30th, 2007 by

Today should be my last as a smoker.

Tomorrow I may kill.

Hairless Gracies

June 29th, 2007 by

Whilst tidying up some trays I discovered a photograph of me. It was from when I had my bonce properly shaven and my old round spec’s. It’s in profile and appears to have been taken without my knowledge. I look like a knob. Very nearly literally. Why don’t people tell me these things. It’s nearly as bad as when I found photo’s of my attempted side parting online. No, your not getting a link to that monstrosity.


June 28th, 2007 by

Every day at work, I get out of the lift on the second floor. Every day I walk the ten foot corridor to get me to my destination. Every day I catch what I think is a person out of the corner of my eye. Every day I pause to have a look and find it’s the same guillotine that’s always sitting there, an arm jutting out like a spasmodic shoulder blade.

One day it’ll be a person. I’m sure of it.


June 23rd, 2007 by

It’s only a week away now, so I should probably start mentioning Swissfest to the couple of dozen of you reading this. As has been stated here before (God alone knows when), I am in some ways involved with the Swiss Concrete promoting people. I am in fact, one of those promoting people. As a person I am now attempting to promote to you, who I assume are another person. Ideally, not one that already knows of the event. That wouldn’t be promoting. Not sure what it would be, but certainly not promoting. So, should you be in fair Oxford city (Oxfordshire, Britain) next weekend (the last day of June and the first of July) and want some music to celebrate the smoking ban, do pop along to the Port Mahon and give me your money. My fellow promoting people will then force me to pass it on to charity. Their threats of violence are seldom hollow. I will also be showing some new art there, which will either be complicated or very basic, depending upon my schedule over this week. Probably basic then. Please do come along, it actually is for a good cause.

Funk Cooking

June 22nd, 2007 by

This is something I discovered almost by accident. Anyone else wisjing to take part in this splendid past time needs only four things; food, a kitchen, an impressive funk selection and a large quantity of alcohol. Simply drink the alcohol (ideally on an empty stomach) until you find you have become hungry and impressively drunk. Play the funkiest track in your possession loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. Begin preparing your meal. As you do this, the funk will begin to penetrate your tiny mind. No matter how unwilling you are to dance under normal circumstances, you will inevitably find yourself grooving away as you begin to cook. Don’t worry if you end up with an audience – no matter what your dancing ability is, they will soon become enraptured, nay impressed by your combination of the two disciplines. I would also highly recommend a sharp knife when slicing up veg. The wobbling of the knife in your bleary hand will only make them love you more.

Quote of the (yester) Day

June 20th, 2007 by

“Dolphins are the white supremacists of the sea!”

Probably best not to look at this one at work. Really.

An Explanation

June 16th, 2007 by

Spent the last couple of days getting to and from a funeral. Review not to follow.

Abolish Tuesdays!

June 13th, 2007 by

Yesterday I learnt of the passing of another of my childhood heroes, J. Edward Oliver. J., as I always thought of him, was the creator of my all time favourite strip in the long since cancelled Buster comic. That strip, Cliff Hanger, followed the adventures of a lad of the same name, each week’s episode ending with (have you guessed yet) a cliffhanger. You the reader would be given three options of what Cliff should do next, and then the results would be shown in a couple more panels hidden away on the letters page. I seem to remember that I chose the wrong option every week, erring towards some sort of logic that would get Cliff out of his scrape, rather than J,.’s own twisted brand of comedy that led to the most ludicrous suggestion invariably being the one that would save his bacon. I discovered the man’s blog about a year ago now and was still kept amused by his tips on cooking with next to no ingredients and the absurd little poems he’d knock out every couple of weeks. Though it hadn’t been updated since March, I had still been dropping by once a day to see if he’d put anything new up. Now I kind of wish I’d gone to the main page more regularly and I wouldn’t be a fortnight late on this post. Toodle-oo Jack.

50,000 Typos Later

June 10th, 2007 by

I happened upon a copy of yesterday’s Grauniad earlier. Incased within the many supplements was a four page bit, celebrating the paper’s 50,000th issue on Monday. In the centre of this was a double page spread of covers from throughout it’s century(or thereabouts) of publishing. This led to no small annoyance on my part, indicative as it was to the blinkered view of history spouted by the media. Allow me to mount my high horse and expound. The first quarter of the spread covered the entire first half of the twentieth century. There wasn’t a single mention of the 1920’s having even happened (maybe they stopped publishing during the ‘Roarer’s’, though I have my doubts). The second quarter wasn’t an awful lot better, going from 1950 to 1979 – most of that focussing on the sixties anyway. This left the entire second page covering the past twenty-seven years in far more detail than I personally found to be appealling. I mean, that has to be within the lifespan of the average, demographical Grauniad reader, not to mention writer. Would it not be more informative to show them covers they may not have seen before, rather than trying to provoke a second’s possible nostalgia over the sight of Yeltsin sitting on a tank? Granted, this is just me throwing my toys out of the pram over a tiny issue, but my goat was got and I felt I had to share it with y’all. I would explain it in more detail, but I’ve got places to be. Please feel free to pretend that you are me and argue the point further with yourself or a friend. Please do remember if you try this out that I am right and have won the argument already. Good night Josephine.

Diss Appointment

June 8th, 2007 by

I was passing by my old local comic shop yesterday, which always tugs slightly at the old heartstrings. There it stood, scabby sign still proclaiming it’s former glories, it’s windows all boarded up. But wait, something caught my eye. One window was unboarded. And from beneath the glass – colours. Bright, garish colours! My eye alighted closer and took in the detail. Could this be some enterprising youth reopening the building for it’s one true purpose? Was it directions to some new emporium still situated within walking distance and not twenty-five miles North? No, of course it wasn’t. It was a poster advertising the coming of roy chubby fucking brown (I spurn your capitals vasey. Spurn them I say!). How are the mighty fallen. Actually, that’s a question isn’t it? Well, I don’t know the answer. What am I, Jesus? Oh yeah, of course. I forgot.