On my many travels around the world I have had a lot of time to think.
Perhaps those hours could have been better spent by doodling, playing video games or just chewing gum, drooling or reading People magazine but like the fool I am I chose to think. As a result of all that thinking I have decided to let you in on a secret; There is more to life than death and taxes.
Not much more, but something.
Those things are: Chinese Restaurants and Irish pubs.
Think about it. Have you ever been anywhere that doesn't have one or both of those institutions?
If I were interested in creating a new religion that espoused another mad conspiracy theory (see Mormons, Christians, Muslims, Judaeism, Communism, Burtism, Buddhism and anyone else I may have forgotten to offend) I would develop a theory about how these two nations are in the grasp of the Devil and doing his bidding.
If you are interested I'll get you started with a couple of lines.
Feel free to join in and maybe we could create a new liturgy.
Lets face it. It has to be better than the rubbish that's on offer now.
"Behold the sacred Scroll of Number 47" (fried rice with green chillies)
"Brothers, Let us drink from the haloed cup of innebriation.
Touch the cup of death so that we may extend our life and ward off the inevitable" (Guiness)
Just a thought. Maybe you had it too
Hello,
Apologies that I haven't been around for a while. I've been swamped in sorting out my new place and worrying about Visa's n such. All quite complicated but I think it's all heading in the right direction now.
I finally moved the rest of my stuff into the new place. Which is a huge load off my mind, and my brother's van. He volunteered to help me move again. Which I think is increadable after the last move. All involved, including bystanders, were left emotionally scarred by that experience.
The highlights of the move involved getting a punchbag set up and getting a sofa onto a roof, up a fire escape and having to take a door (and part of the frame) off. Luckily my brother is a joiner so he made a very quick job of it. Although my brother's first words on seeing what needed to be done was "I hate you" in his most deadpan voice, he still went through with it and carried shteloads. He explained afterwards that he's saving all these favours up for later on in life to ask one huge favour. I dread what it's going to be.
I'm now in the process of gradually whittling down my stuff as I have tonnes. But the room is useable, just.
Music highlights of the past couple of weeks included seeing the Cold War Kids. I've never had much interest in seeing them live but my girlfriend is a big fan and bribed a bouncer to get us in which I was well impressed with. I've also just found out that I'm heading to the Connect Festival which I'm really looking forward to. Mainly because Amplifico and Sparrow and the Workshop are playing. Both of whome are amazing.
Spent last night watching Richard Prior do standup with gf and friend who is visiting from the states. I'm quickly becoming a fan.
Anyhoo, apologies for the non-correspondence. If you've sent an email and had no response I am trying to get through them all. I have 500+ messages still to get through with more landing each day. Please don't send the "Hey, check me out messages" as that's what the A&R group is for. All it does is fill my messagebox.
Anyhow, I hope all is well with you and I will continue with regular posts again. Let me know what you're up to.
Pity me. Reach into your soul and dredge up the best of your sympathy. I have a hangover!
This is no ordinary head thumper. I am not suffering from some self-induced malaise this time. For once I have the excuse of being able to blame almost all my friends for my current state of dehydration. You see it really was nothing to do with me. Unless you consider the fact that this weekend was my stag do.
I suppose, in a small way, I am responsible for instigating the entire debauched lunacy by asking the nearly Mrs B to marry me but I maintain that the resultant war wounds are not my fault. In fact I would go so far as to blame Meneer Heineken and his cohorts. If he hadn't made the brew I wouldn't have been forced to drink it now, would I?
But you don't want to know about that do you?
You want the dirt. The sleeze and the sorrow. You want to know what happened and who did what to whom. You want to know how many people were arrested and what costume I was forced to wear whilst dancing on stage at the Foile Berger don't you? Well I am not telling.
So there.
What goes on tour stays on tour.
Well nearly. There is one thing I think you should know about this weekend of drunken revelry. You can sum it up like this.
Paris is an extortionate rip off but utterly utterly lovely.
Oh, go on then. Just one or two snippets. Just to prove that I am still the man I was when I left.
Actually that's not true. I am in fact a better man. (Despite the fact that my brain is now the size of a Water shrews gonads).
Mrs Nearly B and I have been together for 13 years so far and in all that time she has never doubted my fidelity. In fact she has proved to be an amazing woman. Even when I brought an entire troop of naked dancers into the living room and let them rub jam into my arm pits and then let them lick the fragrant goop off again she has never doubted that she is the one for me. She didn't bat an eyelid as I frolicked in a whirlpool bath with ten nubile playboy bunnies and she wasn't even phased by the sudden appearance of Lindsey Lohan, Jennifer Saunders and a small ferret called Ralph in our bed one night. Because folks, she trust me.
Yes she does.
Completely.
She trust me because she knows that I am totally and utterly crap at playing away. She knows that by the time I had realised that the opportunity to indulge in some nudey prod games had arisen I would probably have already drunk myself into a stupor, eaten too much and fallen asleep or talked so much the object of passion had left and gone to sleep it off under a flyover somewhere where the drone of traffic was more soothing than my monotone drawl.
So when the weekend of my Bucks party hove into view she knew that there was no way I would be coming home with hickeys and a nice collection of STD's. And as ever, she was right.
The event was organised with military precision.
London - Paris - London. Hospital. Home. Wedding. Divorce court. Penury. Gambling habit. Death and a small headstone. Got it?
On day 2 of the blast we were in Paris. The sun was setting and we had been touring the sights of the city. We had seen an Irish pub, a Belgian pub, three or four French Bistro bars and probably some others that I have forgotten by now. The crew was still together and we had ended up sitting in a bar in the Pigale region of the city. For those of you who are not as cosmopolitan as I am (CUE SMUG GRIN... AKA RICTUS) this is the red light area.
We had established ourselves in a bar where the manager was delighted to have suddenly acquired the alcoholic equivalent of a gushing oil well. With beer at E10 each and six of us drinking about 4 an hour he was suddenly watching his profits rise as fast a sailors dick on shore leave. And so when we made ready to leave he used every trick in his book to get us to stay. In other words he gave us free beer and a discount off further rounds. It worked and so we remained there for ... forever I think but I am hazy on the exact times.
When the beer was drunk and the party was in full flow we inevitably decided to visit a strip club. It is traditional after all. So the gang of stout yeomen staggered up and away and blew kisses to invisible friends in the bar. Fortune favours the inebriated and as luck would have it there was a strip joint right next door! Would you believe it?
In we all trooped, having first negotiated an amazing discount of about 40 centimes on the entry price. We are the toughest of the tough!
Inside it was like a ... well I am not sure but it was bloody horrible. Dark, Dank and tiny. There was one light bulb and a dance floor about as big as a tablecloth. The walls were all made from artex and painted oxblood red. In short it was as sleazy as sleaze itself. Proper job.
There was a pole in the middle of the room. There was no one spinning on it. One of our party - a distinguished doctor would you believe - decided to have a go. Up he got, grabbed the pole and swung around. It was then that we heard the screams! The manager came rushing into the room and grabbed the pole.
"NO TOUCH NO TOUCH!"
I had heard of no touch the girls but no touch the pole? Surely that was the point of the place?
Be that as it may, the pole wasn't actually fixed to the ceiling. Brilliant!!!! A pole dancing club with no pole. I was already feeling at home.
Then the dancers came in. There were two of them. One was called Claud the other Bernard. They had a little hop and sat in the corner opposite us and waited. So did we.
When the girls finally came in they were amazing. Not because they were stunning looking or exotically dressed but because one of the them was the size of Sly Stallone and wearing dungarees and the other one was wearing a woolly jumper.
The cheers went up! At last!! Woman flesh!!
Except there wasn't any.
They refused to do anything at all.
Not so much as a nipple.
We had found the only lap dancing club in the entire universe where no one but the customers danced and there was no nudity!!!
We had spent E100 for six beers and a piss.
Excellent value all around in Parisien terms.
My sort of place.
My sort of story.
My sort of Stag.
I will be running for Pope in 2010. Please vote for me
I have been on the road a lot recently. Clocking up the miles on the highways of Europe.
As is often the case, I listen to the radio and most of the time I listen to Radio 5 , Radio 4 or one of the local stations.
Anyhow, as you know the world is currently bathed in the sweat of a billion athletes and it is almost impossible to escape from the fit and fantastic. As we indulge in our 4 yearly (there must be a word for that) orgy of medals and patriotism I generally tend to avoid watching anything. I can't remember a second of the Athens games and only Kylie and her lawnmowers still resides in my mind from Sydney. Funny enough though I do remember Munich and Moscow.
Beside the point.
As I was blasting along at 80 mph I started to listen to a commentary on Radio 5. It was for a first round badminton match between 2 Brits and 2 Chinese in the mixed doubles. It is hard to get more obscure than that in my world. As far as I know there are 2 real sports and some crap ones. Then there are the costly ones like sailing and drag racing that don't really count and then there are cheaper but less realistic options, such as cheese rolling which is on the fringe of my experience but again I am not sure it is a sport proper.
Once again I digress.
The thing is that this match was between opponents i had never heard of in a sport I don't know. It was broadcast from the other side of the earth and the commentators were new to me. I was driving very fast on a busy road and all in all the sum total of that lot should have been a total waste of time but it wasn't. It was electric.
Honestly. It was superb. There was drama and all the highs and lows of giant killers and comeback, tensions, internal struggles with expectation, supporters fading away as the game looks lost only to return when the win seems likely. The entire sporting experience in a hours radio commentary.
I don't know who was playing - my memory is weak for these things - nor who the commentators were but I will remember the feeling as long as I live. It was superb.
I still haven't watched anything on the TV.
Don't think I will anymore.
What is the point in letting go of all that emotion if all that ever happens is you get told how dumb, ill informed or gullible you are?
That's what happens when you raise an issue or a political point it seems.
I know my explosion about Georgia was over the top but I am not going to apologise for having said what I said. I felt it and if you don't like it, fine.
The question is, why reply if all you are going to do is state a counter view? At least have a debate. I might not join in but at least having something better to say than "you are wrong and I am right. You are an idiot and I am not." It has happened ever since I git into this blogging thing. More an more opinionated and bullying twerps feel like they have the right to fire off a broadside without any realisation that their assumptions might be wrong or just pointless.
And another thing, people are forever critising how I write these posts. Surely that is why we all blog. So we can write what we want, how we want, without some poxy sub-editor getting in the way. The text - spelling - programmes are maddening when the words you write are actually English and not American as well. How I wish it was possible to write labour without that damn red line!
Free spirits in the ether are being censored by pedants and it is a real bore. Please leave me alone!
Blog on kids. Most of the time I have no idea what you are on about but I love reading them all the same.
yours
back to sanity (almost)
Baria - the ex-warrior
"When was the last time you were at a wedding that had a death defying hike, rogue waves, a luau, ultimate fighting, a presidential candidate and a budding bromance?" asks Papi Chulo. For most of us, the answer is never, but luckily, Papi Chulo and Secret Agent Scotch took the time to Vox all the amazing moments during their unforgettable Hawaiian wedding on 08.08.08 so we could all take part in the festivities.
The story began last February, when Papi Chulo popped the question and Secret Agent Scotch said yes! Since then, they've kept us in the loop about all the details, from the bride's veil to the wedding song to the final To-Do List. And throughout it all, they inspired us with their love for each other. (I'm pretty sure it doesn't get any better than knowing your future husband thinks you are The Perfect Girl.)
It's an amazing love story and we are thrilled they shared it with us. Watch the video of the ceremony and please join us in wishing Papi Chulo and Secret Agent Scotch the fairytale ending they deserve.
And What's a Team Vox Post without New Themes?
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Can't get enough of the wedding? A few lucky Voxers - Krissy, djchall, and Beau Smith - made the trip to Hawaii to take part in the celebration. Check out their Vox blogs for more pictures and stories.
Congratulations again to Secret Agent Scotch and Papi Chulo! Enjoy the Honeymoon!
What on earth is happening to us?
Those of you who know me or my incessant rambling will know that I am generally quite a liberal sort with less inclination to war war than jaw jaw but the past two days have left me breathlessly enraged.
It seems to me that the western world has forgotten what it was created for. We seem to have transformed from decent, purposeful democratic societies into spineless, weak and vainglorious popinjays. Are we so feeble minded that we have forgotten Hungary or Czechoslovakia? Can we still be so easily distracted by shiny trinkets that we are willing to place our own future at risk?
IN 1957 when the eyes of the world were on Suez, Hungary was annexed and Imre Nagy was murdered. Not long after Alexander Dubcek was hauled off and replaced by Stalinist thugs. And we were all rightly ashamed. For the next 40 years we bobbed and weaved all over the world in an endless game of oneupmanship and no one, except the thriller writers, were any better off. The failure to deal with a crisis in Europe resulted in the waste of a generation. All because we were gutless and engaged in a pointless war a thousand miles from the real action.
Now, in 2008 it is happening all over again. Whilst we are engaged in pointless and illegitimate war in Iraq a solidly democratic nation like Georgia has been invaded by Putins hord. And what do we do? What do our representatives do? ... We watch the Olympics.
The jaded Olympics that are hosted in another totalitarian repressive state. We bow and scrape and congratulate them on how well they have done to clear the smog so fast and on how good their economy is. We grovel at their feet so that we can have plastic toys in our happy meal bags and cheaper power tools to store, unused in the shed.
It is a fucking disgrace!
We don't need a new ideology or a new diplomatic initiative what we need is leaders with vision and above all balls.
I have had it with these mealy mouthed, grinning ninnies that spend their entire adult lives learning how to say nothing of value in a ten minute speech. I have had it with suited men who claim to know everything about everything when they have never done a days labour in their lives. I have had it with career politician women who bleat on about how hard done by they are whilst quietly emasculating an entire generation of men. I have had it with newspapers that demonise our children and then expect them to die in defence of our countries so that a pension fund is protected.
The thing is it has been a long time coming.
The Russian FSB and mafia billionaires have been taking our pants down and shafting us for a long time now and all we have done is smiled politely and taken it.
In Britain we welcome Roman Abramovich and his cohorts for their money and ignore the fact that no man has ever got that rich, that fast without heaps of people ending up eviscerated on a rubbish dump somewhere. We grumbled a bit when they injected a British citizen with Pollonium and then let him wander all over our capital city lighting up the national grid simply by blinking. We made a bit of a noise when they expelled the entire staff of the British Council and we tugged our forelocks when they said we had been spying on them and hiding snooping gear in a rock in Gorky park.
Well sorry Mr Putin but we are spying on you because you are an unprincipled murderous cunt! I wish we had the nerve to drop some Caesium in your tea or expel your cadaverous women or simply to seize all your assets in western banks. Maybe then you would stop taking the piss quite so readily.
Back in the good old days when Ivan knew his place we could rely on the rigourous training of our leaders to help us through. They had all been to public schools where bullying was tolerated at first and then deal with in a decisive fashion. Today however our world is ruled by pathetic clones who have never been within a hand wringing of danger and who have no concept of the evil ruthlessness of despots. We have callow, colourless leaders with no more concept of honour than Paris Hilton. That my friends, is going to get us all into serious trouble.
Let me explain:
Russia is a largely peasant society which has been governed by bastards since it was first conceived of. It is a land of hard people with barbaric rules and almost no discernible integrity. Since their sphere of influence has diminished they have resorted to underhand tactics such as cutting of gas supplies to neighbours and blatantly comic assassination on foreign soil. They are presently trying to extract the maximum value from western expertise (see BP and TNK) whilst threatening the investments and even lives of Western "experts". They have been engaged in a diplomatic war with Britain, Ukraine, Belorussia, the Baltic States and most of the Soviet bloc for the past decade and now they have finally tested the resolve of NATO and the west by invading Georgia. It is the ultimate rogue nation and yet no one has challenged them for 60 years!!!
These are not the actions of a peaceful and growing democracy. They are the nascent actions of a terror that will make Bin Laden and 9-11 seem like a fire cracker on bonfire night.
Let me tell you people they are terrifying.
I am almost ashamed to say this. It goes against the very grain but we need to motivate our leaders to do something and stop the Russians before it is too late.
Don't go bleating on about blinies, borscht and the Bolshoi and all that stuff. I know. Right now it is not important. What is important is that we have forgotten how to be strong. We have picked on little kids for so long that when a bigger bully stands up we are scared and back off. That is not how our fathers reacted and they knew more about survival than any of us born in the age of microwaves and comfort breaks will ever know. Don't tell me about the UN. It is a hopelessly outdated and corrupt machine that functions only so that effete diplomats can have all expenses paid holidays and so aged African dictators to go shopping at Macy's without facing war crimes tribunals.
NATO was not created to make soup in Somalia or peace in the Balkans it was made to hold off the Soviets for a few days so that we had a chance to call our folks and say goodbye. It needs to get back to basics.
If we don't tell the Russians, in no uncertain terms, to get the fuck out of Georgia and stop trying to blackmail the other independent republics that it used to own we will all be eating gherkins and wearing boots with no socks.
What really scares me is that the only proven counterbalance to the Russians are the English speaking nations but they will not be able to react quickly enough. Thanks to our idiot leaders we are too busy trying to destroy some goatherds in the Hindu Kush.
It is no good asking the American military to preempt any problems. History teaches us the America is not the one to defend liberal democracy when danger arises. But they are the ones who will prevent it from collapsing altogether. True, when they do get to the party they bring the best toys and always win the big money game but they are always late and they always pretend it was their party to begin with.
So, believe it or not the fate of the world once again, rests on the shoulders of a Yves St Laurent clad charmer. Arise Napoleon you time is once again here.
I mean it. Putin is evil and Medvedev is a puppet. Bush is a weakling and has no authority and Brown has all the charisma and gumption of a frog. The only one left with any kind of will power or fire power is France.
Mr Sarkozy it is time to make up for the Verdun line and let the Legion loose.
Was having din din outside one of those lovely pubs near the Dublin Castle and heard my name being shouted from the corner.
Normally I try and hide at that point anticipating an ear-bashing from some disgruntled artist who, though my comment of "Nice, still early days, maybe more rehearsals?", wants to make it clear how pointless a human being I am. That actually happened once.
But no! It was Chris from the Lost Levels. They'd just played a set at the Dublin Castle which I'd unforgiveably forgotten about, even after my girlfriend reminded me, twice. I was too busy doing manly DIY things such as putting up shelves and errecting my punch bag. Luckily I had already agreed to go to the 93 Feet East gig which everyone should attend. Every time I see them their set develops another shiny coat of lushness. Visit their myspace now, make friends now and get their newly released single, er now.
Hope all is well in gigland.
Hello,
How is things out there then?
I will finally be getting properly moved in the new place over the next week as the room is now free. Getting in there tonight to do a proper 'Changing Rooms' job on it. Without the masses of MDF or 'feature wall', or raving crazy person in crushed velvet jacket. There's a load of stuff I need to get rid of in there too. Such as:
One stack of pub bench cushions (about six foot long)
Several pairs of high heels (it was a guy that lived there?)
Two Gargoyles (don't ask)
One horrific red wardrobe.
Bars on the windows (handy in a fire?)
A smell (that needs to go first)
This time around I'm going to move in two shifts. Get a 'man with van' to move the essentials this weekend, clothes, PC etc. Then my brother is bringing his van down the week after for the move proper. I have to be a little more organised this time as my brother turned up and I was still packing stuff away. He's quite an understanding chap but the whole experience was quite wearing on all involved I think. Hopefully when he arrives it will be a simple case of, 'here's some boxes, lets move them from A to B'.
I must be becoming middle aged (I'm 28) as I really capitalise on any chance for a bit of DIY (and I use words like capitalise). Already I've decided that I'm going to fit shelves by the chimney breast, fit new locks and raise the bed off the ground so I can have storage underneath. Loser.
Went to the gym last night. Since I've moved I'm now really close to one, but it's a bit crap in comparison to the one I used to go to. No pool or anything. Nearly dropped a kettlebell on my face which was fun. Especially after a acted like a stroppy teenager when asked by a member of staff if I knew what I was doing beforehand.
I can always tell when I'm generally happy as I put on weight. I must be reeeeeealllly happy right now. Half a stone over two months happy to be precise. Plus I want to do another competition before the year is out so need to get into shape. Thing is, Snickers are just so good.
Was meant to have my work experience guy start today, except he's been offered a job at another major. Bastard. At least it shows I'm picking the right ones I guess. He's got a month before he starts so I may have him onboard for a while but not take him into the higher level meetings.
It's a bit scarey as I'm going to be passing on some of the techinques I use for 'Digital A&R'. The concept being I use research of acts and trends of what people are listening to in identifying new acts. I've never had to put any structure to it before. I just use different tools as I see necessary. Now I actually have to think about how I do my job. I;ve never done that before. Scarey.
I really am talking crap and just typing now, so it's time to move on and do something constructive.
Hope all is well with you.
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-daisy
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