Something for the Weakened

Archive for July, 2007

Drip drip fizz

July 31st, 2007 by

A few months ago one of my housemates gave me a handful of loose soluble asprin. I wasn’t in any great pain at the time, so I thanked her and put them on the bookcase next to my bed. There they have stayed since, save a couple I dropped a couple of weeks ago. The open air hadn’t been kind to them, with one pretty much refusing to dissolve at all even after I’d pummelled it with a spoon. But it’s not those two that we shall concern ourselves with here and now. No, it is the one that I now consider to be immobile. You see, this particular pill was placed directly next to the one coaster I have in my possession (you can tell it’s mine – it has my middle name on it – another tale for another day). Upon the coaster at almost all times in a pint glass with some quantity of squash (diluted) in it, so should I awaken dehydrated in the middle of the night I can swig at it and then attempt to re-kip myself. Inevitably, these darkened fumblings sometimes lead to a little spillage (don’t they always), though thankfully I’ve had enough control in the past to make sure they’re only localised. That or I’ve dried out remarkably quickly. Anyhoo, as you will no doubt have guessed by now, a dribble of fluid at some point landed smack bang on the open asprin. Presumably it fizzed to itself a bit, expanded slightly in an effort to become one with a glass of water and, failing that, sat about to be dried by the sun. That’s how it was when first I noticed it – a little calcified turd sitting on my sideboard, apparently growing from my drinks mat. At first I became concerned that a bird had flown into my room and left some sort of dirty protest at my not having any worms in. It wasn’t until I noticed the unscathed pill shaped pill next to it that everything clicked into place. This all occurred a month or so ago and I haven’t had the heart to remove the thing. I kind of like it and think that it might still expand slightly every other night. I’m not even that sure if I could get it off if I tried. It looks as if it’s welded there. Maybe I should put a couple of drops on the pill next to it. Just so their not lonely.

Quote of the day

July 30th, 2007 by

“Will rant for food.”

– Huth Owen (Tom Hart)


July 28th, 2007 by

1 – Are you male?

2 – Are you between twenty and thirty?

3 – Do you wear glasses?

4 – Are you obviously balding?

5 – Do you work for Stagecoach?

6 – Do you drive the 100 bus from Oxford?

7 – Were you driving it last night?

8 – Were you driving the bus that departed at 23:45?

9 – Did you leave a similairly balding, bespectacled man, between thes of twenty and thirty (just), stranded for half an hour for apparently little more than petty, officious reasons?

If you answered yes to all of the above questions, then you sir are the most worthless festering cunt bubble on the face of the Earth. May your children die with cocks in their eyes and your Mother be found sliced into bite size chunks, you feckless fucking wank biscuit.

If you answered no to any of the above questions, you are lovely in my eyes and will have kisses placed upon you by pixies in my employ.

The Rebellious Visage

July 25th, 2007 by

My face is a peculiar thing. This should not come as a shock to those among you that have seen it, but it is still capable of surprising even it’s owner. Three times my cheek swelled up to absurd sizes, causing me absolutely no painand only minor discomfort. Last week I had the wisdom tooth extracted that had caused the swellings. At the time it was uncomfortable, but after a day’s inconvenience it settled down and started trying to be a normal mouth again. Today, a full week on, it finally decides that “Yes, actually it does hurt and by Christ you’re going to know about it fat boy!”

Faces, my friends. Never trust ‘em. Never trust ‘em.

Next time – something that doesn’t involve me whinging on about me teeth yet again. Promise.

A Cavalcade of Amusement

July 21st, 2007 by

Well, not exactly a cavalcade, but in my eternal quest for amusing noises I’ve happened upon a couple of comedy sites with easly listenable erm, bits. The official one of the two belongs to type Mr. Daniel Kitson. The link should take you to a few of his own recordings of a couple of live recordings and a couple of the stories he is renowned for telling. Regular readers may recall my raving about seeing his ‘C-90′ show and though that is sadly absent, what I have managed to listen to is good listening. I’d particularly recommend the one describing itself as ‘Podcast 1′, an extract from his ‘Weltauschuung’ (sp? – I don’t have the page open at the moment) show which I would love to now hear the rest of. Secondly, I direct you at this, a series of recordings made by The Actor Kevin Eldon (that is his full name – I will accept nothing else) for Resonance FM. All eight are monologues written and performed by The Actor himself. I paticularly recommend Space, Induction and Francais as the more amusing, even though I have no real grasp of the French language. Lambfruit and good night.

Only a flesh wound

July 19th, 2007 by

Survival. It’s an instinct we all know and, generally, find quite useful. It’s a tricky one to overcome when someone is looming over your open mouth with a collossal syringe. Even trickier is when they start drilling one of your teeth in half. I’m guessing that their using what amounts to a chisel to snap a molar in two should cause even more of a flight instinct, but by that point I’d given up hope. Especially when I heard the snap.

Yeah, I’m fine, ta.

Word from the Wise

July 18th, 2007 by

In just under two hours I shall be having a wisdom tooth extracted. Over the years, my mouth has become a graveyard of lost teeth, whose tombstones have long since been up-rooted. Now as I wait for the drill, another has it’s last hurrah with the pizza in the oven. Good bye lower back one, undescended.

Bitten, with hours to spare

July 17th, 2007 by

Tiny beasties have chewed on me quite heavily over the past few years. This never happened when I was a nipper, which probably goes some way to explaining why when they do I swell up like some kind of zeppelin. I’m currently in possession of a bulbous right foot, left knee and left elbow. I’m applying ointment, occasional ice and scratching as infrequently as possible, which thankfully seems to be doing a bit of good. Unfortunately my refusal to buy antihistamines until it stops bloody raining leaves me without the full gamut of produce, but that may be a good thing. For in thirty-six hours I enter hostipal, to have something removed. I don’t really want them to cut it out, but seem to not have any option. Hey and indeed ho, more news when the scalpel is nearer . . .

Stick it between your lips and suck

July 14th, 2007 by

So, smoking. What, did you think I was talking about somwthing else? Anyhoo, my attempts at quitting following the ban have been, shall we say, mixed. In the postive pocket, I’ve not bought any cigarettes since indoor pulling on fags was banned. My fingers have lost that orange tint on the end. I don’t pant quite as much after cycling (though I do still pant – I am deeply unfit). Meanwhile, up the negative hole, we find the fact that I’ve still been smoking. Not a lot you understand, but a few. The longest prolonged period of nicotine deprivation I have achieved is around three days, which isn’t that bad I think. But I have caved when surrounded by smokers and, unsusprisngly, drinking. Pubs have always been my downfall in previous attempts at quitting (there’s some harrowing accounts of my last go in the archive somewhere that I’m not going to link too – not because they’re actually that harrowing, it’s just idleness on my part) and this has proven to be the case this time. I had assumed that the ban would mean that I wouldn’t have to smell the sweet, sweet secondhand smoke that always awoke my cravings and drove to bumming off strangers. This has actually worked on some of the nights I’ve been out. The problem that I forgot to factor in was that I would still be going out with mates that smoke. Despite the shite weather, the evenings over the past couple of weeks have been good enough to sit out in gardens and the sight of my pals sitting there, tugging away in front of me has been to much to resist. So do I consider myself to be a non-smoker now? No, of course not. I’m not delusional. I’m happy to have cut down as much as I have, I’m not planning on buying any (except for other people I’ve scabbed off) and hopefully one day my willpower will prevail. Until then, I am content with my lungs taking a bit of a battering.

What? Entendres? No, I didn’t notice any? I’m off to suck on a fat eight inch Cuban …

(Alomost all gags stollen from Fat Harry White)

An ana . . . an antimnm . . . An. Aan. Tii. Dote.

July 11th, 2007 by

Okay, I’m now going to attempt to reconstitute the lengthy, rambling post I stuck together and lost two nights ago. It was a direct reaction to the link two posts down (whoever is offering me tickets for Christmas – your meagre life is over, ‘friend’) and primarily concerns my MySpace forays on that particular night as an attempt to redress the karmic musical balance. Anyway, the majority are, as always, pillaged from Warren Ellis for which I can only apologise. Anyhoo, onwards to tunes.

First thing to try is Sea Records – a label for cheeky Northern monkeys. Nice range of stuff on there, particularly, from full grown pomp to quiet folky noodling. Personally I favoured the tracks by Woman and Ambulance, though this time Mugstar have randomly come on first and impressed me mightily. A label I shall claim to be watching, though inevitably forget in half an hours time.

Next one along are an outfit calling themselves Mini Luv. From the fairly ineffectual scanning of information on the site what I have done, they seem to hail from Canterbury. Or Birmingham. I do wish people would be more precise about these things. Enjoyably synthetic punk is how I’m pointlessly describing the music, though I imagine you’ll disagree. That’s fine. It’s your choice. ‘Airstrip One’s probably the standout track on there, though the other two are perfectly fine. They also appear to be sans bassist at the minute, so live dates may be unlikely.

Sargasso are from Norwich, but don’t hold that against them. Though they seem to be a fairly conventional three piece, some of the songs to be found here are marvellously off the wall. They seem to work best when really stripped down – ‘Get Working On Me’ is the best song on their site and it’s basically just voices and kit. That lass has a fantastic set of lungs on her. The voice I mean. The full band tracks aren’t quite as impressive, but worth a go (except ‘Heels On Fire’ – great pun, but an ‘orrible listen).

I realise that Rolo Tomasi are known by a number of readers of these missives, in fact I’m reasonably certain that some of your number have seen them live. It was probably they who informed me of their having a combined age of sixty five (between five of them!). Despite their tiny ages, the little metallers seem to be able to play their instruments pretty damn well (reminds me of my own fourteenth year) and are more than able to cobble together an interesting tune. They also seem to be on a neverending tour of the country. I hope someone’s let their Mums know.

My penultimate recommendation is for The Phantom Band, who seem more than a little cagey about giving out personal details, as the name suggests I suppose. Donning my deerstalker, I’ve deduced that they’re probably from Glasgow, there are at least four of them, though only one of these appears to actually possess a face. The occasionally squelchy synths mix with a darker than indie, post rockish feeling of . . . well, not quite dread, more slight unease. Probably not the effect intended or the one you’ll experience, but do check them out. They’re probably the group I’d most like to hear more by out of this kaboodle of lynx (yes, I know).

Finally we come to Bright Spark a band who very nearly defy what few beliefs I have (could wibble on about the Chapel Perilous for another four pages here, but shan’t bore you with that hackneyed old chestnut). The two songs on their site have supposedly just been released as a single, though God alone knows how. They are both uniformly appalling, show no obvious talent from the band members or any hints of social nicities and are utterly, utterly brilliant because of this. ‘Take A Look At Your Life’ is the most objectionable piece of drek I’ve heard in many a moon and I urge you to go and listen to it this instant. The foul insults the ’singer’ (I use the term loosely) slings at you become more and more unpleasant, while clutching at straws for new things to mock or pillory. I must have got to double figures listening to the wretched thing but it still makes me giggle like the pathetic adolescent I really am. The choir at the end was probably a mistake, mind.

Finally finally, I spotted a free offer which may be of some interest to a few of you kerazy kids. Top comics artist Sean Phillips is in the process of moving house and is giving away lots of complimentary copies of his work to save space. Simply go to the link and it’ll tell you how to get hold of the stuff. Personally I’d recommend asking for any issues of his excellent crime series Sleeper or current favourite of mine Criminal. Or failing that, the original Devlin Waugh story was an awful lot of fun. I seem to remember reading John Smith’s character description being along the lines of ‘Noel Coward’s head on the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger’. Shame they had to turn him into a vampire really.

And I think I’ll leave that there.