Ok. We all have our guilty pleasures. I know it’s wrong but it wasn’t me who set it up. I only joined in. And without wanting to sound like someone at the Nuremburg trials, I was only following orders (from my friends.)
If you’re not familir with the concept of Celebrity Death Sweep, it’s basically a prediction on what celebrity/famous name/elder statesman will drop dead next. Our rules are three names each and no duplication across the list – which lead to much debate over who got Fidel Castro – and the winner gets pints for them by all the losers. First predicted person to drop dead wins. Simple.
I thought I was on to a winner(s) with Margaret Thatcher, Norman Wisdom and Lesley Phillips but no, somebody else won with Wendy Richards.
Now, the whole point of this post is to highlight the fact that maybe if someone is diagnosed as being terminally ill, maybe they shouldn’t be included in the list. I mean it makes a mockery of the ethos of this fledgling sport. It’s like starting out as an ambulance chaser, but then moving on to pushing people into the road just so you can get the ambulance to arrive. Or something.
I want an inquiry. I want free pints. I want Celebrity Death Sweep 2009 to continue.
Got 'em all. Except for the WoodWood (top middle)
It’s getting a bit ridiculous. But the adidas AZX release is possibly the greatest and most comprehensive collab ever. If only they’d used the Hindi alphabet (58 letters) we’d still be looking forward to many more releases. At last count, I managed to get 10 of them. So I’ve got (A)CUs (D)QMs (F)ootpartrols (G)oodfoots (O)riginals (P)atta (S)neakersnstuff Crooked (T)ongues (U)ndefeated (V)A. Of course, I tried and failed to get the ZX pair but to be honest, you’d have more chance of finding a genuine pair of Pigeons on ebay.
The one very major disappointment however, was the Y for You version. I don’t know if you’ve seen it but boy is it dull. I’m not even going to show it here it’s that bad. But I can describe them in less than 10 words.
White. With black Barcelona skyline. Impossibly dull.
It’s a bit like ripping open that big Christmas present underneath the tree only to find that it’s not in fact an adidas 35 Anniversary Hamper but a wicker basket covered ceramic plant pot. That was a terrible year.
OK (and this is just for you Ben) apologies for the shocking tardiness of this blog. My New Year resolution is to put up at least one comment a week but as I’m starting this in February I think I’ve already broken this. But anyway, onwards and blogwards.
As you may know, I go to a fair amount of gigs and I was just wondering where/when the fake encore started? The days of clapping, stomping, chanting for more have been overtaken by a smattering of applause and a general expectancy of the band coming back on anyway to play their most recent record/crowd favourite.
Is it the bands that are causing the problem? Is it the apathy of the crowd? Is it a mixture of both? Is it Simon Weston’s fault?
The last band I saw that didn’t play an encore were Explosions in the Sky in January and I must admit it was rather refreshing, the last genuine encore I remember was Radiohead at Meadowbank Stadium in 2006 (where they played, count ’em, FOUR) but all this is just to get a link to tell you about the Morrissey gig I saw at the weekend.
Hell, who needs a tenuous link? He was simply awesome. A cantankerous old bugger and a poetic moaner of biblical proportions, you’ve just got to love him. Now before any of you write in to say “but he’s racist” the NME article that he was “quoted” in is now subject to a libel case in the High Court, the actual interviewer himself has said that the NME rewrote the whole transcript and has also insisted his name be removed from the article. So there.
The gig itself was a very bizarre mixture of ages, styles and outfits. But not a bunch of gladioli in sight. Urging the crowd not to buy any more Smiths’ records as the “all the royalties go to that wretched drummer” was quote of the night and seemed to rule out the endless “reunion” rumours. Which is all good I say. Too many bands are getting back together anyway. Mr Morrissey was just genius and as usual, he went through a fair few shirts. Mozza, we salute you. (but not in a rigid right arm sort of way.)
Again apologies to anyone who visits this regularly. I’ve been a bit rubbish lately.
Anyway, during an unbelievably slow day at work yesterday, I decided to subject my colleagues to a taste test. After reading some studies that suggested that the Average Joe could not tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi and that eventually they all came out about a 50-50 split as regards correct and incorrect answers. I decided to try this out.
After purchasing said drinks, I set up an experiment that involved tasting 50 cups of Coke or Pepsi (25 of each) a clipboard, a scoring chart and four “volunteers”. The preference stated was unanimously in Coke’s favour (sorry Mr Pepsi) and the taste test began. After much swishing and sloshing the following results were noted. Stephen and Michael (both smokers by the way) got 29/50 correct. So far so what. Bea got 35/50 but then she did call the Statue of Liberty “The Lady of Opera” the other day so we’re all unsure if she actually knew what was going on any way. But Kirsty absolutely aced it and got 50/50.
So in conclusion, we have somebody working for us that should either be in the perfumery business – as most taste is actually based on smell – or as those “Tasters” that decide when certain products are ready, especially in the wine and spirits sectors. Told you we were quiet.
Well it’s here. And I’ve been away for a while. But it’s been worth the wait. (For the ad, not my ramblings). Who said claymation was dead? Anyway, here it is. And it’s just lovely.
Sorry for the radio silence recently, but it’s been busy round here. Anyway, since my last post I’ve been to my usual quota of gigs, but one stands out due to its sheer unexpectedness and it’s similarity to the waiting room to get into Scottish indie heaven.
So we pitched up at the Maryhill Community Centre Hall which isn’t in the most salubrious of areas or the most auspicious of starts but hey, I like that venue and once had the good fortune of seeing Glen Matlock play there too. But that’s another story.
Now, all we knew about this night was that it was going to be a tribute to Neil Diamond – I know, I know, but I had nothing else planned and anyone who can wear a corset and get away with it has to cool. Right? Oh.
So we got in, finally got our tickets after I managed to forget the name of the girl who put tickets aside for us, got our drinks and milled around marveling at just how many people were there. Now to cut a very long set up short, I’m just going to name a few of the people that played. So we had a bit of Belle and Sebastian, Eugene Kelly from the Vaselines, Douglas T Stewart from the BMX Bandits, The Parsonage, Teenage Fanclub members pitched in and even stinky Phil Kay was there just dancing around. God put some deodorant on man! There were more people from various Scottish bands and from the C86 scene and they were all singing Neil Diamond songs and all for the princely sum of a fiver.
Ah, Scottish Indie Heaven indeed.
I told you I’d update you all when I got any more information about the latest Fallon spot for Sony Bravia. Although it turns out there’s not much to report really. But as promised, here are some pics of the making of the making of. If you know what I mean. Sigh.