That enormous billboard shot of John Lydon popping out of a cow's body, it litters almost every tube station I frequent, really infuriates me.

First, it frustrated me that a former punk antihero would be selling butter, but maybe he really likes it. Maybe they gave him a truckload of butter. Maybe he kept all that butter in his fridge. Maybe he gave ( Read more... )

What will it take for Arsene to see what we're all seeing? I despair. There are big problems.

Gallas shouldn't be captain. Dubiously pulling himself out of this game after the extended dressing down he got after Wednesday should have been the very final straw. It's time for Cesc to stand tall, but this in itself is wrought with problems.

In a recent ( Read more... )

Oh my god. I can't really believe that happened. Having said yesterday to Max that I'd rather the North London derby be a game of drama than a simple thrashing, boy did I get what I asked for. You motherfucking goddamn bastard cunts. I hate you Tottenham. I fucking goddamn hate you.

Was that the weekend? Was it? hmm. I'm not convinced. You see, I was slaving away editing vizzle on Saturday, and then, out of the blue, food poisoning struck me down on Sunday. I'll keep this brief. Custody battles for molluscs. Broken Victoria line, and we were lied to, straight up, at Kings Cross! Losing half a stone in a day! Wow! Being ( Read more... )

I do believe that we're going to the beach today. Some rugged place in Essex. To have hiccups for a whole goddamn hour. To vote according to your ethnic partisanship. We can play San Andreas too. We approve of it's representations of street kids, corner kids, hoppers, accountants, players, lawyers, cops and dawgs, junkies and mafioso. We too can ( Read more... )

Today brought the possibility of buying a four track from Nigel at work, a lovely pub lunch with the microsite design team, work finished on 3 videos (we will have truly awesome X-Factor interviews), a decision made to have a beach holiday weekend/road trip as of Saturday, phone calls to Bristol to remind Josh of Luke's obligations, the near ( Read more... )

In what seems like a coup, illness halts this blog. Like true 50s menkind, I got up at near enough the crack of dawn (for me, anyway) and strolled in brisk morning light to the foot of my road to acquire the first editions. There, I made the choice to employ the smaller, more hidden newsagents- I imagined in my way that he must not much attention ( Read more... )

Perhaps it was a set up by his co-defendents testifying against him in cooperation with the prosecution. OJ Simpson got sent down for holding up a sports memorabilia store at gunpoint in an attempt to retrieve items from his own collection that had been bought at auction and were being sold there. 'The Juice', as he is known, claims he didn't know ( Read more... )

Fuck. Left it a couple of days late to get TV  on the Radio tickets and they're all pissing sold out, aren't they? Leaving me to plead with ebayers. Fuck. I'll never forgive myself.

A secret room, tucked behind the darkened fireplace in the above bedroom. Not dissimilar to Jim Morrisson, but unlived in. Why don't I come here more often? I do, but only in sleep, and even then, not conciously. It's not decisions I make, but this secret space fills me with awe and I'm exploring like a child again. The owner of secret knowledge, ( Read more... )