"Let's just be Facebook friends."
"Our relationship is just not worth the Blogger."
"I've got so many 43 Things going on in my head right now."
"It's not YouTube, it's me."
"You're a chauvinist Digg."
"You're not my TypePad."
"I just can't see us being together for Revver."
"I need some MySpace."
Friday, August 10, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY & 500th POST
Yep, it's the time of year when we say happy birthday to this blog and mourn the constantly dropping quality of writing and subject matter.
Handily, this entry is also the 500th post. Looking back, you'll see that the one-year anniversary post was the 200th. What does this tell us? That I've been churning out dross at a faster rate. That's something, I suppose.
Anyway, before you start wrapping bunting round your head and destroying the environment by purchasing cheap candles you'll never use again, here's a nice birthday message send to me by God. He never forgets.
Aw. Cheers, God.
Handily, this entry is also the 500th post. Looking back, you'll see that the one-year anniversary post was the 200th. What does this tell us? That I've been churning out dross at a faster rate. That's something, I suppose.
Anyway, before you start wrapping bunting round your head and destroying the environment by purchasing cheap candles you'll never use again, here's a nice birthday message send to me by God. He never forgets.
Aw. Cheers, God.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
An imaginary conversation
"Hey, who's that girl? She looks really familiar."
"Which one?"
"That one, with the straight black hair and flowery dress."
"We don't know her, you idiot – everyone looks like that now."
"But, it's just…"
"You're so fucking out of touch I can't believe it. I bet you haven't even heard the new Kate Nash album."
"Er, actually I have, some of it."
"Well fucking done. And?"
"Well, I suppose it sounds a bit familiar, all that chatting nursery rhymes innit sort of stuff, but otherwise it's all right, I guess."
"You dick – everything sounds like that now. Anyway, you're wrong. It's shit. God, you really are a twat, aren't you?"
"Hold on, that's a bit harsh…"
"It doesn't matter anyway, shit's the new good."
"Isn't that a Nathan Barley quote?"
"No. I never quote fictional characters."
"You've quoted Kate Nash before."
"No: I just used the word 'foundations' in a sentence once. That so doesn't count. Wait, are you saying Kate Nash is fictional?"
"Good point, I'm not quite sure where that came from."
"Because you're right, she is."
"Erm, what?"
"'Kate Nash' is just a construct. It's obvious. Just look at this article, right: 'Nash slams Spice Girls'."
"Why'd's that make her…?"
"Shut up, I'm not finished. You know what she actually said about the Spice Girls? She said, 'They're all older now so to kind of still wanna be the Spice Girls is just, I dunno… just grow up.' That's a direct quote. It's the kind of stupid thing anyone could say – and they've kept the 'um' words in, so you can hear her rooting around for something vaguely interesting to say. They type up the quote, add some other paragraphs – I dunno, 'The 19-year-old, whose album is out today blah blah fucking whatever' – then they stick it next to a picture of the individual called Kate Nash, and hey presto, you've got a story."
"But surely that means it's the story that artificial, not Nash herself?"
"God, free your mind, man. I know a guy who works at her record label. They have to fucking get her out of a box every morning and put her together. There's actually a guy at the label whose job it is to assemble Kate Nash. He's signed a confidentiality agreement so he can't talk about it. But this shit gets out. Why dyou think her album's called Made of Bricks? Answer that one."
"What happens when the guy's ill? Who assembles Nash then?"
"God, what kind of dickhead question is that? The fucking work experience boy, I don't know. But it's the same for all of them, you have to do it with all that fucking lot."
"What? What do you mean, which lot?"
"Penate, Allen, T, Nash. What did you think Torn on the Platform was about? They're all in little fucking mannequin pieces when they arrive. Most of them are left over from the 1930s or whatever – that's why the birds have those fucking old-fashioned dresses and the blokes look like they've just stepped out of Les fucking Miserables."
"Arrive? Arrive from where?"
"They just get shat out the back tube of MySpace straight into the fucking Barfly. You think Westlife's manufactured? This lot make Westlife look like fucking Motörhead. Ever see Terminator 2?"
"Yeah. Classic."
"It's okay. But it got one thing right - that's exactly how the planet's gonna look in 2029, except instead of those wiry metallic robots, the place'll be overrun by fucking Kate Nash clones, shooting the shit out of everything with their big laser arms. Think that girl we just saw looks familiar? You ain't seen nothing yet, fuckwit."
"Which one?"
"That one, with the straight black hair and flowery dress."
"We don't know her, you idiot – everyone looks like that now."
"But, it's just…"
"You're so fucking out of touch I can't believe it. I bet you haven't even heard the new Kate Nash album."
"Er, actually I have, some of it."
"Well fucking done. And?"
"Well, I suppose it sounds a bit familiar, all that chatting nursery rhymes innit sort of stuff, but otherwise it's all right, I guess."
"You dick – everything sounds like that now. Anyway, you're wrong. It's shit. God, you really are a twat, aren't you?"
"Hold on, that's a bit harsh…"
"It doesn't matter anyway, shit's the new good."
"Isn't that a Nathan Barley quote?"
"No. I never quote fictional characters."
"You've quoted Kate Nash before."
"No: I just used the word 'foundations' in a sentence once. That so doesn't count. Wait, are you saying Kate Nash is fictional?"
"Good point, I'm not quite sure where that came from."
"Because you're right, she is."
"Erm, what?"
"'Kate Nash' is just a construct. It's obvious. Just look at this article, right: 'Nash slams Spice Girls'."
"Why'd's that make her…?"
"Shut up, I'm not finished. You know what she actually said about the Spice Girls? She said, 'They're all older now so to kind of still wanna be the Spice Girls is just, I dunno… just grow up.' That's a direct quote. It's the kind of stupid thing anyone could say – and they've kept the 'um' words in, so you can hear her rooting around for something vaguely interesting to say. They type up the quote, add some other paragraphs – I dunno, 'The 19-year-old, whose album is out today blah blah fucking whatever' – then they stick it next to a picture of the individual called Kate Nash, and hey presto, you've got a story."
"But surely that means it's the story that artificial, not Nash herself?"
"God, free your mind, man. I know a guy who works at her record label. They have to fucking get her out of a box every morning and put her together. There's actually a guy at the label whose job it is to assemble Kate Nash. He's signed a confidentiality agreement so he can't talk about it. But this shit gets out. Why dyou think her album's called Made of Bricks? Answer that one."
"What happens when the guy's ill? Who assembles Nash then?"
"God, what kind of dickhead question is that? The fucking work experience boy, I don't know. But it's the same for all of them, you have to do it with all that fucking lot."
"What? What do you mean, which lot?"
"Penate, Allen, T, Nash. What did you think Torn on the Platform was about? They're all in little fucking mannequin pieces when they arrive. Most of them are left over from the 1930s or whatever – that's why the birds have those fucking old-fashioned dresses and the blokes look like they've just stepped out of Les fucking Miserables."
"Arrive? Arrive from where?"
"They just get shat out the back tube of MySpace straight into the fucking Barfly. You think Westlife's manufactured? This lot make Westlife look like fucking Motörhead. Ever see Terminator 2?"
"Yeah. Classic."
"It's okay. But it got one thing right - that's exactly how the planet's gonna look in 2029, except instead of those wiry metallic robots, the place'll be overrun by fucking Kate Nash clones, shooting the shit out of everything with their big laser arms. Think that girl we just saw looks familiar? You ain't seen nothing yet, fuckwit."
Monday, August 06, 2007
A real conversation
"We've got to watch Mastermind tonight."
"Why?"
"You'll find out when we watch it."
"Are you on it?"
"Yeah."
"Are you?"
"No, of course I'm not!"
"Well I don't know what you get up to nine to five."
"Why?"
"You'll find out when we watch it."
"Are you on it?"
"Yeah."
"Are you?"
"No, of course I'm not!"
"Well I don't know what you get up to nine to five."
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Floody hell
Bob Dylan never sung about Gloucestershire, but he does seem quite keen on floods. Three choice cuts follow.
Crash on the levee, mama,
Water's gonna overflow,
Swamp's gonna rise,
No boat's gonna row.
Down in the Flood
I got the heart and you got the blood,
We cut through iron and we cut through mud.
Then came the warnin' that was before the flood
That set everybody free.
In the Summertime
High water risin', six inches 'bove my head
Coffins droppin' in the street
Like balloons made out of lead
Water pourin' into Vicksburg, don't know what I'm going to do
"Don't reach out for me," she said,
"Can't you see I'm drownin' too?"
It's rough out there
High water everywhere.
High Water (for Charley Patton)
Crash on the levee, mama,
Water's gonna overflow,
Swamp's gonna rise,
No boat's gonna row.
Down in the Flood
I got the heart and you got the blood,
We cut through iron and we cut through mud.
Then came the warnin' that was before the flood
That set everybody free.
In the Summertime
High water risin', six inches 'bove my head
Coffins droppin' in the street
Like balloons made out of lead
Water pourin' into Vicksburg, don't know what I'm going to do
"Don't reach out for me," she said,
"Can't you see I'm drownin' too?"
It's rough out there
High water everywhere.
High Water (for Charley Patton)
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Something in the water
Amid sightings of a great white shark in British waters, would it be cynical to suggest that those responsible for scheduling tonight's television are not taking the threat too seriously?
Carrey on
I'm big into Jim Carrey at the moment, for some reason. In the absence of anything else interesting happening on this bitch of an earth, here's his greatest moment, playing oddball comedian Andy Kaufman in Man on the Moon. Wonderful.
Lessons learned from... Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Lord Voldemort smells terrible (he has no nose).
Friday, August 03, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
