""Big cocks and vodka" came the reply"
Yes, Comrades
One thought one had hit it big. One is in one's local bakery and sees his nickname on bread loaf packaging. One is dismayed to discover the loaf actually reads 'Thick cut'. One is yours truly.
R.I.P. to the kid who died at Rock Ness. How many more reasons do you need to avoid that terrible thing? The lineup was fucking dreadful, abysmal - you'd sooner see me at Ozfest. Which reminds me, apologies if the fella following me radio show today kept to his word and played Foo Fighters. I'll never diss the Foo Fighters again. Anyway, Rock Ness. Saw someone who was 8 months pregnant was adamant to go, absolutely adamant. So apparently a baby bump wasn't going to stop her shaking her shimmy. On the subject of poor mothering, did you see that tidbit in the Herald two weeks ago? A little girl had lost her mum in Tesco. "Aw, I'm so sorry petal, we'll help you find her. What's she like?" asked the store manager. "Big cocks and vodka" came the reply. And they wonder why Britain's going down the toilet. Unbelievable.
It's the weekend. The Jazz Wagon has taken a detour into the countryside, She's revisiting the Twilight Zone again. Lost, again. We drive by a power plant and things have taken a turn for the downright bizarre, until we're back in familiar territory. A little revisit of childhood to fight through bushes back to where we parked. Not only do we play video games better as nippers, we apparently traverse forests better. It was all overgrown, nettles and shit coming out of our arses (literally. Well, almost). We eventually made it back, feeling like eight year olds. God, won't be doing that ever again.
Short and sour. If you tuned in to me show tonight, for a min or more, ta.
In a bit.
SD
Songs Played - 10/6/12
The Prodigy - Spitfire
The Lovin' Spoonful - You're A Big Boy Now
Elvis Costello - Good Year For The Roses (request)
Pop Levi - Sugar Assault Me Now
The Go-Betweens - Streets Of Your Town
Sugar Bear - Don't Scandalize Mine
R.E.M. - Nightswimming
The Boo Radleys - I Hang Suspended
Deep Purple - Emmaretta
Erland & The Carnival - Map Of An Englishman
13th Floor Elevators - Slip Inside This House
Fleet Foxes - Montezuma
Yuck - Get Away
The Coral - Falling All Around You
The Pretty Things - Private Sorrow
Dr Hook - Sexy Eyes (request)
Neon Neon - I Told Her On Alderaan
Neil Young - Ohio
Simon Fowler - The Trees They Do Grow High
The Zutons - Valerie
Feeder - Just The Way I'm Feeling
The Beatles - Day Tripper
The Zombies - Tell Her No
Bob Dylan - Lay Lady Lay
Billy Connolly - D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
Sunday 10 June 2012
Thursday 7 June 2012
Strange Little Girl
"One Direction and Futurama. But at least Futurama only has one Bender"
Yes, Comrades
So there's been a flood of...oh wait, no there hasn't. I was going to say there's been a flood of messages about the songs played last Sunday, but not really, a couple though. Jesus, easy. I'll play more predictable stuff next time, bugger me. And as for not playing my own material, well, I explained that. Plus, to play me own stuff and then see the radio's Facebook page and just sit there, fuming. "My God, these people, they know nothing. The pain I go through for them as an artist! How dare they!" D'you know what I mean? What would be the point? Not that I'm ashamed, Christ no. As has been said before, if I walked past a busker and he was playing one of my songs, I'd mosey on over, take his hat and tip the money into my pocket.
There was a 'pinch me' moment the other day at work. Discovered a fella I had to phone with the best name you ever did hear. Changing his first name, just on the off chance he Googles his own name - and believe me, if I were him I would, every fucking day - and gets a bit of a shock when he finds this, some vagabond slagging him off. Anyway, I swear on my Venus flytrap's life that everything after this guy's forename is real. So, this feature's Sort-Of-Nameless But Never Shameless shines the spotlight on Mr Herbert Fuk Poon. I couldn't do the call in the end, would've been like phoning a leper to ask for a facial, without laughing.
Lotta folks complaining about the Beeb's coverage of the jubilee. I concur, solely because they didn't cut Paul McCartney's performance altogether (stop playing Live And Let Die, even Roger Moore's left those days behind). I changed channels and found two programmes I wouldn't enjoy: one each on One Direction and Futurama. But at least Futurama only has one Bender. Anyway, there was further outcry about Fearne Cotton who, incidentally, may not mind being called Nostrils, but apparently she hates being called Fearney. Anyone who talks like that should be shot too incidentally. So, if you meet Fearne Cotton, add 'Camp' to the beginning of your name for five minutes. Camp David, Camp Rebecca, Camp Barack, whatever, and call her Fearney. Anyway, she was selling sick bags with Big Q Liz's face on them at the celebrations. "You can get them in red or blue, your choice. They're gorgeous" Yes, she did say that.
I just thought I'd share this with you. A conversation I saw months ago and captured cause I knew I might in future need it for a blog I might start and might maintain. It was amuse to me, people of the internet. Thoughts?
In a bit.
SD
The following is an excerpt from my Australia Journal 2008-09. I don't want your shitty number, and I certainly won't maybe call you.
Monday 5th January 2009
I could go a Miller High Life. Went to the creatively named 'Big Pineapple' today. Ate Macademia nuts (more please) and now know pineapples inside out. What a man of the world I am. Also spoke at length with a cockatoo, met a celebrity (the Ya Rly owl) and a kangaroo who was most placid. Then visited the biggest pub in Oz and drank nothing. 2 hours pass in the car and I'm playing World Tour with Mark. I'm better with drums than I thought. He bought a 360 Elite too. Gears of War 2 and Halo 3 bound. Not long til new Wii games. I'm just dying for my bed just now. This journal, I can't wait to finally be rid of it. 9am rise tomorrow.
"Must be the music, keeping me satisfied"
Yes, Comrades
So there's been a flood of...oh wait, no there hasn't. I was going to say there's been a flood of messages about the songs played last Sunday, but not really, a couple though. Jesus, easy. I'll play more predictable stuff next time, bugger me. And as for not playing my own material, well, I explained that. Plus, to play me own stuff and then see the radio's Facebook page and just sit there, fuming. "My God, these people, they know nothing. The pain I go through for them as an artist! How dare they!" D'you know what I mean? What would be the point? Not that I'm ashamed, Christ no. As has been said before, if I walked past a busker and he was playing one of my songs, I'd mosey on over, take his hat and tip the money into my pocket.
There was a 'pinch me' moment the other day at work. Discovered a fella I had to phone with the best name you ever did hear. Changing his first name, just on the off chance he Googles his own name - and believe me, if I were him I would, every fucking day - and gets a bit of a shock when he finds this, some vagabond slagging him off. Anyway, I swear on my Venus flytrap's life that everything after this guy's forename is real. So, this feature's Sort-Of-Nameless But Never Shameless shines the spotlight on Mr Herbert Fuk Poon. I couldn't do the call in the end, would've been like phoning a leper to ask for a facial, without laughing.
Lotta folks complaining about the Beeb's coverage of the jubilee. I concur, solely because they didn't cut Paul McCartney's performance altogether (stop playing Live And Let Die, even Roger Moore's left those days behind). I changed channels and found two programmes I wouldn't enjoy: one each on One Direction and Futurama. But at least Futurama only has one Bender. Anyway, there was further outcry about Fearne Cotton who, incidentally, may not mind being called Nostrils, but apparently she hates being called Fearney. Anyone who talks like that should be shot too incidentally. So, if you meet Fearne Cotton, add 'Camp' to the beginning of your name for five minutes. Camp David, Camp Rebecca, Camp Barack, whatever, and call her Fearney. Anyway, she was selling sick bags with Big Q Liz's face on them at the celebrations. "You can get them in red or blue, your choice. They're gorgeous" Yes, she did say that.
I just thought I'd share this with you. A conversation I saw months ago and captured cause I knew I might in future need it for a blog I might start and might maintain. It was amuse to me, people of the internet. Thoughts?
 |
| And the rest, as they say, is history... |
In a bit.
SD
The following is an excerpt from my Australia Journal 2008-09. I don't want your shitty number, and I certainly won't maybe call you.
Monday 5th January 2009
I could go a Miller High Life. Went to the creatively named 'Big Pineapple' today. Ate Macademia nuts (more please) and now know pineapples inside out. What a man of the world I am. Also spoke at length with a cockatoo, met a celebrity (the Ya Rly owl) and a kangaroo who was most placid. Then visited the biggest pub in Oz and drank nothing. 2 hours pass in the car and I'm playing World Tour with Mark. I'm better with drums than I thought. He bought a 360 Elite too. Gears of War 2 and Halo 3 bound. Not long til new Wii games. I'm just dying for my bed just now. This journal, I can't wait to finally be rid of it. 9am rise tomorrow.
"Must be the music, keeping me satisfied"
Tuesday 5 June 2012
Slow Show
"After discussing a stripper/lapdancer called Candy (who used to be called Ian)"
Yes, Comrades
Before we get to my cabaret of cockup that was my radio show, I'd like to take you back to Friday night. Five folk, must've been about thirteen on average, sitting next to us at the train station. One was a blonde in leggings that were the American flag. First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, what the fuck? They were playing Dustbin Beaver on their cheap phones too. If I was a few years younger, I'd have been on them like shite on velcro. I'm not in my eighties. Next thing I'm in my vision of Hell: trapped in a party with MTV blaring as the music, Call Me Maybe, all that nonsense. To add insult to injury, I'm told I look like Edward Cullen. See, I'm sure you'd all agree with that, except for one thing: Most people that read this blog have met me.
So there you are. I'm feeling a bit worse for wear Sunday, so I order a pizza - a crusty supreme. They send me Diana Ross in a box. Feeling so tired it's almost trippy and psychedelic. Used to have to pay £20 to feel like that. Onwards! So the thing holding the music for my show breaks, and it's an hour til showtime. Technology, you are the bollocks. The panic came and fucking went - I'm sat in a car park with a gentleman's Mayfair, looking at a fitness club with a little sign in the window saying KA Radio. I'm going down some stairs, passing caricatures of Morrissey, Jim Morrison and The Beatles, following a voice. I walk slap bang into the studio, the guy's mid-speech. Five minutes later and I've been told what I'm doing and being slagged for liking Oasis. This seems to be a recurring thing, Oasis hatred. In any case, six o clock comes and I'm making the announcement, smacking my lips, trying to think of some shite to come out with. Now, not to spoil the magic of radio for you, for those of you who may think I was sat there with old dusty headphones from the 60s, spinning the vinyls and doing the jingles on me tod, I wasn't. We went for a smoke, and the 'magic' of radio let me play 3 songs back to back whilst we did. Proper braw. After discussing a stripper/lapdancer called Candy (who used to be called Ian), I'm back on the decks (mouse). The worst part involved my co-host coming in after I'd explained to the listeners what the shit I was doing, so he just walked in to find me shouting "DUCK! Hello. Effin!" down the microphone. Eight o clock arrived in absolutely no time. I tell you this droogs: the power a DJ feels, it's great. It's like...if you were to go deep sea diving and ran your hand over anemones and they all retreated into their coral or whatever, it would be a similar surge of power. "Urrrrgh, they're scared of meeee!" Anyway, I'll be back on the waves regular.
The following day was spent hunting high and low for pink, fluffy, fuzzy material (don't ask) with Bunny. We covered our town, Ayr, Kilmarnock, then did our town again and found what we needed in Tesco in the form of baby blankets. So we bought two. The person serving us looked at BD's stomach and raised a suspicious eyebrow. This was made even more suspicious when we realised we might be short, so went and bought another one. "Bugger me, they work fast!" The absolute highlight of the day though, had to be when the mrs asked me what a corgiss was. Apparently Tesco were selling corggises, if you so desired a corgiss. "What you on about?" She points to a sign. "Buy corgis just like old Liz!" God help us all. Sodding corgiss...
No Australia journal this entry, got four and a half minutes of humiliation to share with you instead. Sundays 6-8 is the Sergeant Dread show from now on, fucking tops eh? I won't let it go pony.
In a bit.
SD
Songs Played - 3/6/12
Kid Koala - Slew Test 2
Feeder - Come Back Around
Ocean Colour Scene - Mechanical Wonder
Bombay Bicycle Club - Leave It
Turin Brakes - Painkiller (Summer Rain)
The Chemical Brothers - Let Forever Be
My Morning Jacket - What A Wonderful Man
K-Klass - Rhythm Is A Mystery
Bruce Springsteen - We Take Care Of Our Own
Paul Weller - Pink On White Walls
Richard Hawley - Leave Your Body Behind You
King Harvest - Dancing In The Moonlight
Weezer - My Name Is Jonas
The Velvet Underground - I'm Waiting For The Man
Pink Floyd - The Great Gig In The Sky
Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds - Aka...What A Life!
Melody Gardot - Mira
The La's - That'll Be The Day
The National - Mr November
Ren Harvieu - Forever In Blue
Inspiral Carpets - Saturn 5
Primal Scream - (I'm Gonna) Cry Myself Blind
Traffic - Hole In My Shoe
Arcade Fire - Black Wave/Bad Vibrations
Cast - Beat Mama
The Doors - Hello, I Love You
Echo And The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon
Yes, Comrades
Before we get to my cabaret of cockup that was my radio show, I'd like to take you back to Friday night. Five folk, must've been about thirteen on average, sitting next to us at the train station. One was a blonde in leggings that were the American flag. First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, what the fuck? They were playing Dustbin Beaver on their cheap phones too. If I was a few years younger, I'd have been on them like shite on velcro. I'm not in my eighties. Next thing I'm in my vision of Hell: trapped in a party with MTV blaring as the music, Call Me Maybe, all that nonsense. To add insult to injury, I'm told I look like Edward Cullen. See, I'm sure you'd all agree with that, except for one thing: Most people that read this blog have met me.
So there you are. I'm feeling a bit worse for wear Sunday, so I order a pizza - a crusty supreme. They send me Diana Ross in a box. Feeling so tired it's almost trippy and psychedelic. Used to have to pay £20 to feel like that. Onwards! So the thing holding the music for my show breaks, and it's an hour til showtime. Technology, you are the bollocks. The panic came and fucking went - I'm sat in a car park with a gentleman's Mayfair, looking at a fitness club with a little sign in the window saying KA Radio. I'm going down some stairs, passing caricatures of Morrissey, Jim Morrison and The Beatles, following a voice. I walk slap bang into the studio, the guy's mid-speech. Five minutes later and I've been told what I'm doing and being slagged for liking Oasis. This seems to be a recurring thing, Oasis hatred. In any case, six o clock comes and I'm making the announcement, smacking my lips, trying to think of some shite to come out with. Now, not to spoil the magic of radio for you, for those of you who may think I was sat there with old dusty headphones from the 60s, spinning the vinyls and doing the jingles on me tod, I wasn't. We went for a smoke, and the 'magic' of radio let me play 3 songs back to back whilst we did. Proper braw. After discussing a stripper/lapdancer called Candy (who used to be called Ian), I'm back on the decks (mouse). The worst part involved my co-host coming in after I'd explained to the listeners what the shit I was doing, so he just walked in to find me shouting "DUCK! Hello. Effin!" down the microphone. Eight o clock arrived in absolutely no time. I tell you this droogs: the power a DJ feels, it's great. It's like...if you were to go deep sea diving and ran your hand over anemones and they all retreated into their coral or whatever, it would be a similar surge of power. "Urrrrgh, they're scared of meeee!" Anyway, I'll be back on the waves regular.
The following day was spent hunting high and low for pink, fluffy, fuzzy material (don't ask) with Bunny. We covered our town, Ayr, Kilmarnock, then did our town again and found what we needed in Tesco in the form of baby blankets. So we bought two. The person serving us looked at BD's stomach and raised a suspicious eyebrow. This was made even more suspicious when we realised we might be short, so went and bought another one. "Bugger me, they work fast!" The absolute highlight of the day though, had to be when the mrs asked me what a corgiss was. Apparently Tesco were selling corggises, if you so desired a corgiss. "What you on about?" She points to a sign. "Buy corgis just like old Liz!" God help us all. Sodding corgiss...
No Australia journal this entry, got four and a half minutes of humiliation to share with you instead. Sundays 6-8 is the Sergeant Dread show from now on, fucking tops eh? I won't let it go pony.
In a bit.
SD
Kid Koala - Slew Test 2
Feeder - Come Back Around
Ocean Colour Scene - Mechanical Wonder
Bombay Bicycle Club - Leave It
Turin Brakes - Painkiller (Summer Rain)
The Chemical Brothers - Let Forever Be
My Morning Jacket - What A Wonderful Man
K-Klass - Rhythm Is A Mystery
Bruce Springsteen - We Take Care Of Our Own
Paul Weller - Pink On White Walls
Richard Hawley - Leave Your Body Behind You
King Harvest - Dancing In The Moonlight
Weezer - My Name Is Jonas
The Velvet Underground - I'm Waiting For The Man
Pink Floyd - The Great Gig In The Sky
Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds - Aka...What A Life!
Melody Gardot - Mira
The La's - That'll Be The Day
The National - Mr November
Ren Harvieu - Forever In Blue
Inspiral Carpets - Saturn 5
Primal Scream - (I'm Gonna) Cry Myself Blind
Traffic - Hole In My Shoe
Arcade Fire - Black Wave/Bad Vibrations
Cast - Beat Mama
The Doors - Hello, I Love You
Echo And The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon
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