i can holla at the birds like Dr. Doolittle

on the pitch, 5 may 2007, Bristol City 3-1 Rotherham Utd.
the happiest day of my life. could have smiled i suppose

so i guess this is the final, valedictory post in what turned out to be the rather Adrian Mole-esque account of my turbulent late-adolescence. in actuality i think that this blog did turn out to be a very accurate reflection of my life: a pretty half-arsed effort all-round interspersed with flashes of brilliance, more than my fair share of utterly embarassing moments, but the odd thing of which i'm oddly proud. as such i can't bring myself to just delete all of this self-obbsessed drivel from the internet, but at the same time i feel i can't leave it all out there to embarass future-Adam with memories of his 20 year old self without some form of disclaimer. so, in the vein of Eminem's comforting, myth-debunking final verse on 'I'm Shady' (from the Slim Shady LP) i'd like to clear a few things up:

- firstly, i don't really struggle to get girls (with a face like this?). in fact, i draw more gash than a make-up artist on casualty.
- i'm not depressed, nor do i hate my life, i just like self-deprecating humour.
- most of these entries do not represent days, weeks or months of profound thought, more like what i fancied writing about when i was (generally) a bit bored and a bit caned.

thats better.

anyway, to bring this full circle, i'd like to sort of end this as i ended my first ever post: it's rubbish rhyme time!

this one is called '4.48am Saturday' (artistic!), and i always foresaw it being spat over this beat:

have a bash yourself. it's double-time(ish) so you'll have to be quite quick.
i got this girl and i do know about her,
got crushed out and saw her in a club with her bloke,
man what a downer...
and i know its cliche,
but i smoke weed every day,
tryin to get my mind straight,
walk to the edge of my gates,
just to stare into space,
look at the lights of the city,
damn what a pity,
met her two weeks ago it would have been pretty,
'stead it's all gone a just little bit shitty,
still acting silly,
tryna be chilly but my face is grinny,
my stomach does flips everytime she's with me,
been thinking with my heart and not with my willy,
got to get out on the pull again quickly,
but the thought alone just makes me feel sickly,
spent enough time in nightclubs looking pretty,
smelling of hairspray,
smoking a ciggy,
home on my own for the wank of self-pity,
still i'll get pissed and get my dance on,
reminisce when i used to send girls 'Round the Twist',
tho' i looked like Bronson,
'cos i ain't a playa, im a coach,
like Gary Johnson.

and then this one, '9.30pm Saturday' (see, what i've done there). i've got no idea of a beat for this one as it's got less rhythm than a pregnant Catholic:

u can find me in the pub at half nine,
approaching girls like,
'i ain't tryin to hype,
but ur gorgeous and exactly my type,
and i've got a six-pack in the right light,
my nan says if she smokes she pokes, so can i pass u a light?
cos u could stay here for the rest of the night,
looking for mr. right,
not see ne1 nice,
tho u mite catch a fight,
some lad shank another br'er in his side,
hav too many vk with ice,
get perved on by some middle-aged guys,
wake up the next morning to piece together events in ur mind,
asking urself 'why?'
or u could come back with i,
hav a spliff under moonlight,
and shag in the kitchen while the house is still quiet,
its up to u to decide,
r u gonna ginger things up?
get some spice in ur life?
or ignore the evidence of ur own eyes?
cos i aint geri,
gonna stay skinny for life,
plus i can tell you what the 80s like,
and i can lay the pipe,
but i didn't tell you that... i'm far too polite'

and, to conclude, an unreleased Chris Dring diss from the vaults:
i draw gash like still-life, (1)
cos i'm for real like, 0-7-8-4-1-5,
3-8-6-3 and 0,
bell me and have a go,
u'll get merked even if you get my answer phone,
'cos my rhymes are duttier than Sean Paul's drawers,
or, Biggie's smalls,
got more bangers than Wall's,
you've bitten more people than Jaws ,
and you're still a bit peckish,
u give it toes like the wife of a man with a foot fetish,
ur styles limp like a piece of old lettuce,
my bars are so phat that they can't get a date,
and still lick the plate,
i'm a flirt,
with a flow sicker than a Ted Hughes advert,
for electric cookers,
got rap locked down like Stevie Brooker,
i want to punch Richard Littlejohn in his fat fucking head,
i know that didn't scan but it had to be said,
at times, the only thing i've got more than rhymes,
is crispy tissues in my bedroom bin...
i've got hayfever,
of course thats what i meant,
cocky enough to diss myself,
whereas ur pensive,
still keeping it defensive,
my lines are verging on the offensive,
you're just a virgin on the offensive,
ur girl swallowed something nasty and i don't mean Lemsip, (2)
i think it's time to end this,
so i'll let you down gently,
i'm a rascal like Dyl,
who makes the bass wobble like PiL,
the meek may inherit the earth,
but i'll contest the will,
which is why the scoreline is still,
Adam Gisborne six and Chris Dring nil.

(1) - once again i compromise my feminist principles for the sake of my art. oh well. as jermaine from 'flight of the conchords' says, 'yeah sometimes my lyrics are sexist, but you lovely bitches and hoes should know i'm trying to correct this'. incidentally, which 'gash' line do u prefer, the 'still life' or 'casualty' one?
(2) - ditto.

finally, (and this is starting to sound like a sucide note or summat... actually, while we're on the subject of my death, can i have 'juicy' by notorious b.i.g. played at my funeral, and, given that i am most likely to meet my doom by crashing because i was fiddling with my ipod whilst driving, can the world at least know what music i was listening to so at least some good can come out of it. perhaps an engraving of the playlist on my tombstone. a citizen headline of 'tragic car crash youth was listening to grime legend Wiley at moment of impact - Tunnel Vision Vols. 1-6 available in stores' is the minimum we're aiming for.) i would like to apologise to all the friends i've lost touch with over the last few years, i am a fucking flake and i realise this. but you should know that if you ever need my help or support with anything just holla at the kid (probably by courier pigeon as i'll have lost my mobile again).

remember, the unexamined life is not worth living, innit. a brazilian footballer from the 80's said that i believe.
i'm ghost like casper. X
p.s. see you soon.

i drop unexpectedly like bird shit

i have absolutely nothing worthwhile to say for myself:

oasis' whole career summed up in an acronym:
Our
Albums
Sound
Increasingly
Shite

Puzique - Suite 9


bad (fucking terrible) premiership look-a-likeys:

phillip senderos and jay from jay and silent bob:
juelz santana and ashley young:

chris baird and any soldier from the first world war:
(it's the haircut).

a weird mannequin of r. kelly and cameron jerome:


Scarface - Never


in other news:
Tim Westwood as the ultimate embodiment of existentialism.

B.G. - Hot Boyz 226


Bristol City on top of the Championship (for half an hour or so):

M.I.A. - Paper Planes


one. X

Kanye West - Good Night (feat. Mos Def & Al Be)

some music what i have been listening to...

currently working on my lil' wayne magnum opus (and my dissertation).

not my graffiti. i know marcel duchamp isn't a plural. 10 out of 10 for effort though. thankfully no-one walked into the toilet whilst i was taking this picture.

some tunes....

Wiley - Bow E3 (Promo)

i finally have a copy of this, just when i was about to offer up a kidney to get one.

Wiley - Slippin' (Promo)

this beat is so fucking kinetic. i'm so glad he was saving it up for something special.

Kano - Is This Grimey Enough?

(surely it's grimy?) in the words of logan sama; 'yes, yes it is.'

Young Joc - Coffee Shop

still a sucker for silly voices on rap records.

Three 6 Mafia feat. Chamillionaire - Dope Boy Fresh

the most catchy song in the world. ever. i think its the way the beat drops out to emphasise the chorus. i've had to stop listening to it to stop it going round and round and round my head.

Gui Boratto - Beautiful Life

does what it says on the tin.

Stephen Marley feat. Damian Marley - Traffic Jam

for summer.

Arctic Monkeys - Flourescent Adolescent

still a band so good they're scary.

Kirk Franklin - Imagine Me

like a gospel '1000 Miles'

Cold War Kids - Hang Me Out To Dry

this beat is heavy. can i describe indie like that?

H2O feat. Platnum - What's It Gonna Be

i would describe this song as 4x4/bassline/speed garage or niche music if i was truly able to understand what any of these terms mean. i suspect it transcends all categorisation.

i also like this video.....
DJ Mehdi - Signature

DJ MEHDI - SIGNATUNE
Uploaded by edbangerrecords

i love how you have no idea what's gonna happen for most of the video. i like how it brings out the beauty in unconventionally beautiful things. songs not bad too.

peace X

if i roll deep, roll deep with my crew

Roll Deep and Hard-Fi (wiley (is he wearing a bib?), ashcroft, dj target, tiny white bloke, flowdan, scratchy, breeze, tiny black bloke with bowler hat, riko): one of these groups isn't fit to lace the others spliffs

Roll Deep - Flame Grilled Whopper


i go by the name of Target and i'd like to welcome all of you to the 2007 E3 Gold Cup. its a bitterly cold day here in Bow but here before us stands a field of unprecedented talent and, despite the presence of multiple champion Wiley, its virtually impossible to predict a winner. Before they set off, another quick rundown of today's runners: Wiley, Flowdan, Scratchy, Trim, Breeze and Riko.

And they're off! Wiley takes a comfortable early lead ('when I was a kid I had a blue parka, orange hood with fur') but is gradually hauled in by strong-running from Flowdan and the field has bunched back up as we round the first bend..... And now its Scratchy making a break for it down the back straight, he has quickly managed to build what looks to be an unassailable advantadge:

i feel a bit rough round the Benson & Hedges/
never would i dare get my hair Silk Cut/
i'm not one to chat J.P.S.,
i'm heavy, you man are Mayfair Light,
i'm a Superking,
i'm not one to go Dunhill,
i'll take your Royals, you make me roll-up,
are you Drum?
i'll Golden Virginia

but once again, after strong work from Trim, the field pulls him back, leaving this race wide open as we head into the final furlong. it now looks like Breeze is making a late surge! he has timed this to perfection, but will he be able to hold on.... Oh my word! This is incredible! Riko has left the track at full speed and has demolished the royal enclosure, trampling its inhabitants underfoot and is currently rampaging around the infield chasing a police officer! Never in all my days of commentary have i seen such scenes! This is totally unprecedented!

Well, in the midst of the drama and confusion it appears the race also reached a conclusion, but from my position up here in the commentary box its impossible to say who triumphed. Yes this will definitely go to a photo finish, so whilst we wait for the decision, lets go to our trackside reporter Danny Weed who maybe able to shed some light on the situation:

Danny Weed: '..........'

It appears Danny has nothing else to add at the moment, but I'm now hearing that that the results have been officiated. And Breeze has done it! He's the 2007 E3 Gold Cup Winner! Now lets have a look at the replay to see just how he did it:

I've got a flame-grilled whopper,
get hassle off the same old copper,
got metal in my mout' like Chopper,
and tattoos everywhere like a dutty punk rocker,
I'm not a geek like Jarvis Cocker,
I'm a dan, I'm dodgy like Del Boy Trotter (ha!),
still cotching on the block like a squatter,
still giving bits to the local shotter,
and I'll paint this town terracotta,
trust me, ain't many m.c.s hotter,
I'm a baller and I don't play soccer,
I'm a wizard with a wand and I don't (?) Potter,
not black magic or voodoo but,
things go missing when I'm in dark clobber,
goons wanna hover round me don't bother,
ain't got nuttin' on the Artful Dodger

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the Roll Deep album is out on Monday and you should buy it. I got my copy round January time when it was being flogged exclusively from www.ukrecordshop.com so I've been living with it for a few months, and its a stone-cold classic to be honest. I think the best way to describe it is, you know how NME used to say Public Enemy were the greatest rock'n'roll group in the world? Well you probably don't, but its a description I particularly liked as it represented a proper reflection of their achievements in a way that was easy for non-rap listeners to understand, and thus probably persuaded more people to listen to them than if they were called 'the greatest rap group in the world'.

Roll Deep therefore, are the best band in the world and 'Rules & Regulations' is one of the albums of the year.

a short list of some of my favourite things about this album:
- someone (Target?) chanting 'your not singing anymore' on 'Flame Grilled Whopper' before the verses start
- Skepta's off-key singing on the adlibs of 'Do This Ting' (probably my favourite song off the album)
- Scratchy's intro before his verse on 'Babylon Burner', which does not fail to make me smile, and (almost) makes up for the censorship and Trim's absence
- 'Roll Deep Regular 2007', ok this is my joint favourite, no matter where I am (walking down the street, in the library, sat on the back row of a lecture theatre) as soon as it hits i'm shouting 'Rah!' and skanking..... that bassline (shakes head).............it also embodies a proto-socialist philosophy rather than the extreme capitalism expoused by the majority of rap music. which is nice.
- the trancey, synthy stylings of some of the beats ('Ride or Die Chick', 'Do This Ting', 'Penpals') far more 'nu-rave' (the only time that term will ever appear on this website) than anything the NME champions.
- most of Breeze's other lines: 'late one night it was cold like Spartak, Moscow', 'them boys can't touch me with a barge, so why your soldiers giving it the large though b?'. i think i've been guilty of sleeping on him in the past, but he's definitely up there with the best of the crew

do i need to do any more persuading? Buy it! Now! Go and sit outside HMV until Monday! Go on! Do it!

eeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssyyyyyyyyyy.

giz X

real like madrid, worth dough like beckham

safe, should have phoned in to 606 or sumthin, but spoony isn't doing it tonight.

so the last time england played spain in a friendly was when i swore i would never watch them play one again. no more half-interested performances, dismal atmospheres, and second halves filled with so many substitutions you occasionally questioned whether this was in fact a football match you were watching and not some sort of avant-guarde performance art spectacle designed to deliberately test the audience's patience in the style of the jesus and mary chain, involving a man with a conehead and spectacles getting another man with a light-up board to flash numbers at a captive stadium of thousands (of school-kids bussed in from nearby areas to make the night's pitiful attendance appear more flattering) to either a positive or negative communal mooing slightly louder than that of a cow with a voice-box.

anyway, that vow lasted about as long as one of many attempts at new year or lent abstinence from masturbation (i think i might start making these vows whilst actually wanking on the day, thus achieving greater efficiency and productivity in my life). and so i found myself watching tonight's england game. well not watching per se, i mean i got a deal, rolled and smoked a spliff, downloaded 'Ain't Understanding Mellow' by Jerry Butler and Brenda Lee Eager and managed to keep my right-hand from gravitating to my crotch and my left hand to my (computer) mouse. unfortunately i still managed to catch a good 60 minutes of in the end.

i'll never get that back.

but what is the point of our international friendlies? no-one really gives a fuck about them, if we win, no-one cares 'cos its only a friendly, and if we lose (which we do a fair bit) its a massive rod for steve mclaren's hairy ginger back. so why not scrap them? if i was england manager i would bin the international friendlies during the qualification stages of major tournaments (i.e. most of the time), leaving them for the build-up to the tournament itself. instead have a fully-fledged england 'b' team play instead, giving a chance to those on the verges of the england team and those caught in limbo between the u-21 and the full squad. we know rio, stevie g and lamps have the quality to play at international level, they prove this week in, week out in the champion's league, whats important is their motivation and teamwork when they're involved in international games that matter. so why not get rid of them for friendlies and replace them with those that have something to prove? this consequent reduction in games played by the very top players also means that there would be more chance of getting them for longer periods in the build-up to competitive matches. which would surely have more of a benificial improvement in the way we play football? these england 'b' games could even be played with the other home nations, they want to beat anything english put in front of them, and it would certainly provide better atmospheres than those currently experienced.

ultimately, all this would do much more for the morale of fans and players than the current system of half-arsed friendlies, involving our top players wandering about for 60 minutes, before 30 minutes of sven-performance-art and (approximately) 3 minutes of booing.

perhaps what's even more disturbing than my bizarre theories is the growing knowledge that no amount of smiley-media training can disguise Steve McClaren's basic lack of football intelligence. why play crouch on his own up front? it doesn't do him justice, and jermaine defoe's place on the old trafford recaro didn't really give him the best of chances to involve himself. why not play gareth barry? natural width on the left side of midfield if you give him a chance there, or decent ability at left-back. instead we get phil neville at left-back, constantly unable to cross effectively first-time on the overlap or from deep, and lamps half-heartedly drifting off to lose the ball on the left rather than in the middle. why have the bollocks to put foster in, yet come up short in so many other areas?

i dunno.
(runs off downstairs. doesn't come back for ages until you get concerned and go down to try and find him, walk into the dark kitchen and..)
boo!
(rolls on the floor laughing.)

peeeeeaaaaace X

we on our back starin' at the stars above, talkin 'bout what we gonna be when we grow up, i said what you wanna be, she said "alive"

andre 'ice cold' 3000 (left)

so andre 'ice cold' 3000 seems to really be taking the whole rapping thing seriously again, what with his incredible (yet slightly surreal; andre 3000 rapping with jim jones?) appearance on the remix to DJ Unk's 'Walk It Out' and now him popping up on the remix to Lloyd's saccharine 'You'. this is fantastic news on a par with, say, the sudden, painful death of Kelvin MacKenzie. i often think that if i could only listen to one artists recorded works for the rest of my days i could choose andre's and it would have absolutely no detriment to the quality of my life. i've always loved andre's verses because they seem to be able to create an emotional texture that is possibly the one thing lacking in hip-hop. like, i was listening to that 'LOVE' album of remixed Beatles hits (which they should blatantly have just put up on the internet for free, its not like they need the dosh is it?), and i was struck by how certain songs made me feel melancholy or hopeful or whatever, as opposed to the broad emotions generally provoked by hip-hop (ANGRY!!, PARTY!!, my homies are dead :-( , generally awestruck at the emcees wit and technical skill). well andre's verses always had that quality. i can remember in lower sixth printing out his verse from 'Da Art of Storytellin' (Part 1)' and sticking it inside my folder just to try and convince girls that i was emotionally deep:

Now Suzy Skrew had a partna named Sasha (Sasha), Thumper (Thumper)
I remember her number like the summer
when her and Suzy yeah they threw a slumber - - party
but you can not call it that cause it was slummer
Well it was more like spend the night
Three in the morning yawnin dancin under street lights
We chillin like a villain and a nigga feelin right
in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite
all of the bullshit we on our back starin at the stars above (aww man)
Talkin bout what we gonna be when we grow up
I said what you wanna be, she said, "Alive" (hmm)
It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes
I coulda died, time went on, I got grown
Rhyme got strong, mind got blown, I came back home
to find lil Sasha was gone
Her mamma said she with a nigga that be treatin her wrong
I kept on singin my song and hopin at a show
that I would one day see her standin in the front row
But two weeks later she got found in the back of a school
With a needle in her arm, baby two months due, Sasha Thumper
(taken from www.ohhla.com)

anyway, i'm only writing about this on here because i've got round to downloading that fantastic spandau ballet-sampling remix of lloyd's 'you'. so far i haven't been able to listen to the song past the first minute or so, when his rapping ends. i even went totally old-school and transcribed the lyrics into the old exercise book i'm supposed to be revising in. you know listening to the song line-by-line, and rewinding it over and over to make sure you catch everything. so here they are:

i said 'what time you get off?',
she said 'when you get me off',
i kinda laughed but it turned into a cough,
'cos i swallowed down the wrong pipe,
whatever that means,
you know old people say it so it sounds right,
so i'm standing there embarassed,
if we were both in Paris,
i would've grabbed her by the waist and kissed her,
but we in the middle of Whole Foods,
and those fools ain't supposed to beef,
but you'd think they hated tofu,
the checkout line got rowdy,
my vision got cloudy,
started seeing circles like some Audi,
emblem,
i'm hearing them say 'come on man, do this on your own time, get the hell on man'
i walked out,
i got 'bout halfway to my car when i heard shorty shout,
'3000, forgot your credit card, smart move,
by the way my little sister loves your cartoon'
'well here's my name and num,
if i ain't the one, lose it,
if i am, use it,
if a man chooses and he can do's it and he don't,
don't take it personal,
'cos he might be swamped,
with making mozzerella,
no, making worlds better,
cheese will come,
believe me I'm,
never focused on the cash,
ask Mel Gibson,
Jesus Christ, i'm 'bout the pas.....sion'

reasons why this is brilliant:
1) the admission of weakness in the third and fourth lines. at a time when virtually every rapper paints themselves as a hard-bitten pimp (at the same time as a hard-bitten drug dealer, which is kind of a contradiction in terms given the antipathy each of the two professions have historically held for the other) its very refreshing, and of course a million times more 'real' than any nebulous claims about macking.
2) its a lot easier for people to write off andre wearing a dress or being a vegetarian or saying that 'William, It Was Really Nothing' is his favourite Smiths song or him wanting to be an all-round renaissance man (well an actor in pretty poor gangster films) as him losing his mind or being crazy and ignore it when he isn't rapping. when he is rapping, everyone has to acknowledge that he is a supremely skilled rapper at the same time as not fitting into the stereotypical ultra-thug image that corporate america is so desperate to pigeon-hole rappers into fulfilling (because of the ease with which this appeals to suburban white kids (i know, i was one of them)), with a resulting ultimate disregard of the damage this does to communities where drug-dealers (or more pointedly, people pretending to have been drug-dealers) are presented as role-models to aspire to.
(politics!!)

3) i have forgotten point 3. oh yeah, the Whole Foods, beef, tofu bit.

but yeah, there you go. lengthy bollocks about the artistry and beauty of a genre of music that no-one really cares about. still, you can always try and crack one off over that picture of kelis up at the top.

or andre's celebrity photographer playboy photo session

















Outkast - Da Art of Storytellin' (Part 1)
Outkast - A Life in the Day of Benjamin Andre (Incomplete)
(thats what the songs called, its not actually incomplete. well it is in that its his life story and it's obviously incomplete in that he's not dead yet..... oh, forget it)
Lloyd feat. Andre 3000 & Nas - You (Remix)

peeeeeeaaaaaaaaaace.
X

2006 in numbers and pictures (and words)

Age at end: 22

Emotional age at end: 19

Girls pulled: 3 (i'm counting the girl i pulled LAST new years eve (it began before 12 o'clock but continued after), and the girl i pulled who aborted it after 30 seconds because i was so pissed that i kept swaying from side to side and missing her lips. so that leaves the girl who was so embarassed that she asked someone who took a photo of the magic moment to delete it from their phone. might as well become a fucking eunuch now, mightn't i?)

Girls sha..... fuck it.

Girls who i developed a really massive old school crush on: 1 (it was mint, i had that weird feeling in my stomach when i thought about her, and i couldn't stop myself spouting pure idiocy that in no way reflected my true beliefs on anything when i was with her)

Gigs attended: 3 (pretty poor really; 2x Dirty Pretty Things 1x Robbie Williams)

Number of gigs kicked out of for drunkenly urinating in a hedge and then running away from security: 1 (Robbie Williams; didn't even get to see him on stage.)
(massively fucked up the spacing didn't i?)

Bands formed: 3 (The Mockneys, The Rent Boys, Terror on War)

Bands whose recorded output i have actually contributed to: 0

Bands acrimoniously departed from: 1

Gigs played: 3 (1x house party, 1x lead singer's parent's birthday party, 1x upstairs room of London pub, with audience composed entirely of other band member's friends and family)
Gigs played where i actually managed to play the bass standing up: 1

Gigs played with a plectrum made up of pieces of cut-up HMV loyalty card stuck together with chewing gum: 1

Dramatic drunken falls down staircases at house parties: 1

Incidences of drunken embarassment in front of my extended family: 1

Incidences of drunken embarassment in front of someone elses extended family: 1

Car windows smashed: 1 (with owners permission)

Times picked up off mates kitchen floor by their mum after alcohol/weed induced blackout: 1

Seconds of lieing down after this until i felt 'completely fine': 30

Village pub quizzes won single-handedly whilst caned: 1

Bars kicked out of for drunkenly singing Bristol City songs: 1

Diego Maradona goals witnessed live: 1

Bas Savage goals witnessed live: 1

Physical altercations when drunk: 1 (Ewens tried to bend my fingers back after a lengthy discussion on the roots of England's repeated penalty shootout failures. i haven't tried to start on anyone all year. i'm a lover not a fighter. well, i'm not a fighter anyway)

Incidences of foolish yet spectacular drunken graffiti: 3

Local newspapers foolish yet spectacular drunken graffiti was featured in : 1

Regional news bulletins foolish yet spectacular drunken graffiti was featured on: 1

Days spent hiding in house with curtains drawn, furtively peeking out every time a car drove down our street in case it was the police, following foolish yet spectacular drunken graffiti : 5

Arrests made by Gloucestershire Constabulary following televised plea for help uncovering culprits of foolish yet spectacular drunken graffiti: 0

Weeks spent eating only when i felt faint because of idiotically rash 'financial plan' at university (spend all money in one two month orgy of weed, fruit smoothies and fred perry, panic and starve when all money spent): 2

Mates i got to try weed: 1

Weeks mate spent suffering from tonsilitis after i got him to try weed: 2

Worst facebook profile picture:

Best facebook profile picture:
Impromptu raves in phone-boxes: 1

Russell Brand-inspired attempts at purchasing eye make-up that ended in disaster: 1 (fucking liquid eyeliner. is that a school-girl mistake?)

Famous people met: 1
yes it was through a wire mesh security fence. but it was at soccer aid.

Famous people met, whilst wearing black nail varnish directly inspired by watching them in a film that week: 1
Tattoos: 1
Best haircut (and biggest pout):
Unlikely celebrity inspiration for best haircut:
Worst haircut:
Resolutions for 2007:
peeeeeeeaaaaaaaace xX

Gizzy G vs. Dringo Starr (Txt Beef War Report), part 2.

Round 3:
D:
So you think im like treacle that stuffs so fuckin thick,
im smooth like honey baby,
thats why ur mum sucked my dick,
you're right i do wear lynx but aint ck1 for girls,
but then again you rent out ur ass u gotta pay the bills,
its startin to get personal but ur the original mud slinger,
i aint gonna sit back and take fuckin insults off a ginger,
the 'fiti, po-po chasin after u and u beagn to run,
the only thing ur missin out in prison is all the shower fun.

G:
The only rapper alive in touch with his feminine side,
beat u then moisturise,
hands can't touch what u can't see wit ur eyes,
cos u ain't fit to join the kersal massive,
style so messy i use persil massive,
captained u in the thirds,
and now ur dissin?
better play ur position,
and put the mic down,
sound like a right clown,
liverpool fan? u come from churchdown,
imposter, standard homophobic rap posture,
question my sexuality,
ur the one with a prison fantasy,
someones got issues,
another nite in alone u better reach 4 the tissues,
i make girls reach 4 the tissues,
can't fight but i might just nut you,
cut you, just to,
see how long you,
stay blue blooded,
titus bramble,
u ain't got this covered,
so how does it feel to get murked by a ginger?
can't diss ur mum,
its not his fault he fathered a minger.

Final Round:
D:
Your lyrics are a disaster,
the room fills up with laughter,
ur sweatin cos im on stage after,
u see i spit venom,
i don't need to ask girls i jus tell 'em,
they get in my bed and theyre in heaven,
so much so they call me messiah,
i make them so hot it feels like theyre on fire,
u wanna seduce them with a love song,
how bout through the wire,
see you and kanye got a lot in common,
both whining bout how ur video costs a million,
but for all the hype surrounding you,
you're both a fading beacon.

G:
Blow haze for days until my eyes glaze,
float around in a daze and listen to Dre,
don't wanna catch strays,
olympic torch,
u never go out,
u messed about and brought the flow out,
silly motherfucker tried to get gutter,
instead u just stutter,
better send for ur mother cos u got skuppered,
u got the first,
i got the last laugh in,
so i stay laughing,
longest,
my bars are the strongest,
u mite be blazin but im tryna bong this,
made a decision to punish my lungs not my liver,
get on stage u turn all of a quiver,
hope ur not bitter,
but me vs. you was like andy johnson vs. a sitter,
cos ur style is suspicious,
whereas i spit as vicious as i did as a kid off of motorway bridges,
chris, ur ludicrous (ludacris) like chris bridges is,
hair looks like a succession of wigs,
know u talk to the pigs,
so i'll tell u like this,
uckFay ouYay itchBay...
u got rinsed, love Giz. X

Gizzy G vs. Dringo Starr (Txt Beef War Report)

Round 1:

D:
Now my rhymes mite not be as tight,
u mite be spittin faster,
but when im comin back at you,
its like a hurricane disaster,
see, you're trying to be all gangsta you strive to own a hummer,
but theres things people dont know bout you,
like you went to a grammar.


G:
Its gutter, we're looking at the stars i mutter,
you brought out your girl and i was like,
'i can't believe she's not butters'
so i mite fuck her,
might even love her,
make her realise her true beauty and hug her,
you'll be sat at home with your mother,
cos i'm donal mcintyre,
you know, bad under cover(s).

(quickly followed by:)
G:
Got no problem with beef cos i love yorkshire pudding,
ur crews like jamie redknapp,
cos they both gotta nurding (nerd in),
uve already been murked but you can have the last word in...
But u can't cos i took your breath away like berlin. X

Round 2:
D:
I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders thats why they call me atlas,
you have half the pressure i do and u'd end up falling backwards,
now this talk of mythology mite be a little advanced,
but i've seen the way you live ur life id get back to smokin plants,
unlike the power rangers ur smokin just ain't mighty,
have two tokes on this shit i've rolled and you bound to end up whitey.

G:
Atlas? More like a year 3,
geography photocopy i had to colour in green,
borrow some blue for the sea,
don't forget a nice key,
that's why you can't fuck with me,
talk bollocks but still kill lyrically,
so you best to leave it treacle,
ur rap styles fecal,
i'll make ur family die in the wrong order like the beatles,
cos ur not fit to lace my drinks,
i'm ck1 ur more like Lynx,
so fly i should get air miles,
i'm shane warne ur ashley giles,
u've never been rude,
don't try to pretend,
want proof? check the bad boys top ten.

we've already talked on the phone and made sure we're gonna keep this lyrical. neither of us are gonna take this to the streets.

Adam is...

... considering the psychological impact on adult men of them playing at a very high-level, professionally, and for great personal income and massive adulation, a game which they first began to play as (and have been playing ever since they were) children.

...wishing he could take the place of one of these men.

...in LOVE with the ghanian football team.

...peturbed to discover he might have smoked an ounce pretty much by himself.

...writing a song (welllllllllllllllll) called 'my dad's heroes'

...'the guy who walks in the room with va va voom and compliments your girl's perfume' - Nyke - 'Aim High 3 Freestyle'

...growing increasingly tired of this concept

...reading Nikolay Gogol's 'Dead Souls'. its actually, properly fucking great. i love the author's tone, its so cocky and sardonic.

...growing increasingly convinced, after weeks of diligent research, that his ultimate favourite pure black fruit gums don't exist anymore, the closest to them now being the very very dark red ones.

...feeling mildly ridiculed every time The Zuton's 'Valerie' is on the radio. he is not convinced about ginger imagery in popular music being a good thing, no matter how positive the imagery is. he is, of course, still traumatised by the release of 'remember me' by blue boy in his schooldays.

...off to watch some football. (brazil vs. croatia as it happens).

Christina Aguilera - Ain't No Other Man (prod. DJ Premier)

Christina Aguilera - Ain't No Other Man (prod. DJ Premier)

fucking amazing.

peace x x x

press be asking do i care for sodomy, i don't know... probably

so yeah, sorry about all the lengthy bollocks about my school career. i guess thats 45 seconds of your life you'll never get back. anyway, i've been away for a few days playing at being a rock'n'roll star. in the end it was very spinal tap. basically the plan was to have a day of rehearsals, then a morning recording a demo before heading down to London to play a gig in a random pub (ok.... an open mic night in a random pub). anyway, everything went swimmingly for about half an hour before nicola, our drummer, locked her keys in the boot of her car before we'd made it to where we were going to rehearse. after an hour of arsing around with locksmiths (who mysteriously won't 'do' car-boots) and 30 seconds of me ominously fingering a brick the decision was made to smash the back three-quarter window with a hammer. i got to do it! it was mint, so fucking satisfying. by the time we'd got everything set up in the hall we were using, we managed about an hour of playing before deciding to call it a day and sodding off, instead we could not bother with the open mic thing and spend the whole of the next day rehearsing and recording.

wrong.

we all awoke bright and early, got to the room, set everything up, ran through 'twist and shout' to warm up and basically arranged another song when all the power went in the hall. we thought we'd blown a fuse, but when we got to the pub we found the whole village had gone. so after a few drinks we went back and noodled around a bit, but it was pretty hard to do much with two electric guitars and no power. and i was a bit tipsy and chainsmoking to keep myself warm too. so in the end we called the whole thing off. we did manage to record a few very rough bits and bobs to help us practice with in owen's bedroom, so it wasn't a complete disaster. and i had an absolutely wicked time anyway.

The Flaming Lips - Yeah, Yeah, Yeah Song
i fucking love this song. the video's brilliant too, i saw it for the first time these last few days, me and owen were watching it and you know how you watch something which starts to turn nastier and darker and you know its going to end with an image thats going to scar you for life but you can't bring yourself to turn it off, so you keep watching it just to see what will happen. well, the video for this song sets itself up perfectly to be one of those things, but don't worry, its got a lovely ending, so make sure you watch it.
on the whole terrible images that stay with you forever (and to sort of try and boast on that subject) i saw the eyeball scene from un chien andalou when i was about 13, it was in this documentary about oliviero toscani that i taped and watched, its quite weird my mind has almost blanked it out but never quite managed it, but i managed to forget just about everything else around the image, it was only last week (after about 7 years of back-of-the-mind agonising) that i found out it was from un chien andalou, and that it was a dead calf's eyeball and everything was ok. i might watch it again now. the other thing that really stuck with me from this documentary was this clip they showed from a short film that may have been made by toscani or someone else, which involved the most horrific images filmed during the war in the balkans, with triumphant piece of popular classical music being played over the top (i forget what music now), then superimposed over the images were scrolling bars of text which just listed expensive western brandnames like 'bennettoncalvinkleinsonyarmanidolceandgabanna' continuosly. it was just incredibly simple and powerful and moving and (probably) life-changing. i wish i could find out who made it. before i steal the idea.

Rihanna - S.O.S.
so yeah this song is just mint, everytime i hear it on the radio i love it even more. i wish i was a dj in an indie club so i could play this and watch everyone be forced to dance to it just because it fucking rocks and is really dirty and dark and stompy.

Mainstream R'n'B 1 - 0 Boring Pub Rock Bollocks Indie Music

Pink - Stupid Girls
i hate the new Pink song. the first part of my hatred is devolved from the fact that shes claiming that the song is some form of 'anthem' for young girls everywhere. i hate to break this to you love, but its not is it? its the first single off your new album and you hope that its going to sell lots and lots of copies. beyond this the whole point of the song is massively skewed. 'oh, aren't paris hilton and lindsay lohan terrible', well to be honest it'd be a lot more interesting, clever and accurate if Pink was to have a go the blatant institutional sexism within the male-dominated mainstream media that colours the way that women like lohan and paris hilton are presented. plus 'mean girls' is just really fucking good isn't? and wasn't pink on the soundtrack to that? can't she go back to making songs like this...
Pink - Just Like A Pill

I Monster - Daydream In Blue
its the one off the ford focus advert, yeah i hate myself for knowing it like that too.

Rick Ross - Hustlin'
so hip-hop about dealing drugs has reached its (il)logical conclusion, this is a motion picture rather than anything reflecting reality ('i know pablo, i know noriega'), but its still just earth-destroyingly monolithic. so yeah, its really good, but completely morally vapid. the man's named after the bloke who worked in conjunction with the c.i.a. to flood inner-city communities with crack for fuck's sake. i sometimes wonder whether loads of the hip-hop thats coming out at the moment is equivalent to rap's 'hair-metal' period. you know, essentially empty, wildly over-the-top and critically despised in the near future. but brilliant fun too. so there you go, the diplomats or rick ross = motley crue or poison

Re-Up Gang - Re-Up Intro
so this is still the most exciting piece of music i've got on my computer. ok, so thats hyperbole, but i got the instrumental today (it's from the intro to ludacris' 'red light district' album if you're interested) and i really want to use that as the the music which we come on stage to, like i'll just plug a cd player into my amp instead of my bass, turn it up really loud, light up a fag, start mumbling the odd rhythmic non sequitur into the microphone, then nicola comes on and starts adding her own drum pattern on top of the beat before owen finally comes on and starts riffing about over the top, and it all builds into a massive crescendo of chaos and noise and danger. and then we stop and become an indie band.

so, i've written a load today haven't i. sorry about that.

peace x x x x x

free porn! http://undertharadar.blogspot.com/

people are fragile things, you should know by now

what i wanted to look like when i grew up (age 15)

i was feeling very maudlin this evening.

last friday i had an amazing day, afternoon drinking with rach (did well until about 5 o'clock when it all went sideways) followed by a night of dancing like someone with no self-awareness to drum'n'bass. in idiotically tight trousers. anyway, the early hours of saturday morning involved a discussion about bad stuff people had done at school; i kept shtum, i couldn't really think of an appropriately legitamately naughty yet ultimately playful bit of bad behaviour. the next day i spent wandering around my garden sweating, mumbling and carting about the bits of dismembered conifer produced after my dad came round to try a bit of amateur tree surgery. my thoughts were kept occupied by the discussion of the night before. ultimately, after an attempted post on here that deteriorated into a 20-paragraph skree about my time at Sir Thomas Rich's i came to the conclusion that unfortunately the worst stuff i did at Tommies wasn't that good-natured or funny but really a bit nasty (well..... some of it was hilarious). anyway, i've kind of been thinking about my school days and that at the back of my mind for the rest of this week (which has been pretty hectic in itself (but more on that tomorrow)). this evening i randomly remembered the list of things i wanted to do in my life that i made when i was 14 and i fancied digging it out to see how many i've actually achieved (i can remember all my friends thinking i was mental back then because i wanted to try smoking weed). so i went up to the attic and had a trawl amongst the debris of my parents divorce. i did manage to find one box of school books, so i grabbed that and spent the evening looking through them.

the main thing that struck me was how blatantly i stopped giving a fuck in year 11. exercise books generally had to be handed in weekly and all my ones preceding year 11 looked nice and tidy despte their inevitably half-arsed contents, but a switch was clearly flipped in my final year at Tommies:
julie was my history teacher's first name in case you were wondering. the work inside is even better; one sentence essays ('Who do you think started the Reichstag fire?' I think that the Reichstag fire was started by the Nazis.), answers that reference Lloyd George's lack of livesaving swimming certificates and James Hunt's 1976 Formula One World Championship and my favourite, a speech by Lenin written entirely in the style of The Rock from the WWF:
'Let me tell you.... Lenin wipes the monkey's ass with what you think!'

most of the exercise books reflect the amount of my schoolday that was spent thinking about really important stuff, like lists of 'people i think are fit but ola doesn't' (donna air and kelis figure prominently) and constant reworkings of my definitive 10 fittest women in the world list:
frighteningly two of the people in this list are dead now.
otherwise i was writing rhymes:

violence must be stopped/
kill all the violent people you know/
go outside with a knife and hunt myself in the snow/
the victim and the killer, i'm a film on my own

i carry a porn mag/
inside of my school bag/
so if you see me in french at my bench looking happy/
i'm not studying adverbs, i'm studying jackie
(can still remember my mum reading that and bollocking me)

pedigree like triple h/
you're a big man but you're out of shape/
i get carter on your back/
ever since i was a twinkle in my father's eye i was strapped/
i blew everyone to get my rap career started/
so don't think i'ma do this half-hearted/
who am i?/
i'm white and do acid/
not eminem, i'm a good-looking bastard/
so i don't have to rap to get ladies/
women all over the world having ginger-haired babies
(that was the second rhyme i ever wrote, i did it english in year 10, whats sad is that its better than anything i could come up with now)

parodies of amateur pornographic fiction involving fishfingers:
i went to the toliet to do this and when i returned with the dripping fishstick John lovingly sucked off the salty breadcrumbs and swallowed the white succulent fish inside whole

typical marks:

i even found the 'scorecard' i made after the evening where i got pissed and tried weed for the first time. it was all courtesy of this lad called spreece, who somehow saw enough of something in me to initiate me into all that, despite the fact that i was naive enough to actually believe that we were going to go to 'the cinema' like we told our parents. 24 carat legend. i actually saw him on friday night, check out his band's myspace:
http://www.myspace.com/THEARCANEBAND

so i suppose that brings it all about full circle doesn't it?

i just really wish i could go back and do it all again.
Ghostface Killah - Child's Play

i also found this that i wrote about myself when i was 10ish:
it makes me think two things;
1) i thank the good lord that i read 'the secret diary of adrian mole' and managed to banish the anal retentive tendencies that are surfacing in this (the inverted commas around 'let myself go'..........how embarassing)
2) i think 10-year old adam would be pretty happy with 21-year old adam.

so yeah, this bloody song kept going round and round my head the whole time i was flicking through my past:
Editors - Munich

but as i said at the top, i was feeling maudlin after all this. especially because, to be honest, i'm having a fucking nightmare at university. but then amongst all the detritus of my family's past was a bag full of my old clothes; my first bristol city shirt, the liverpool shirt i bought on impulse after seeing steve mcmanaman and robbie fowler destroy crystal palace 6-1, a mint western samoa rugby shirt my uncle kim gave me. so there's no big motto about feelings or anything to finish this off, but finding some cool clothes is enough to make me happy.

peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaacccceeeeeee.
x
x

Ali G - In Da House

'KEEP IT REAL! KEEP IT REAL!'

and so, the mantra ali chants with his gangsta little cub scout group and which is writ through the film like the film itself (going to see it at the cinema with ed on the way home from tom russ' historic house party after resuming drinking at 9 that morning, crying everytime east and west staines unite to blow open the acting-Prime Minister's safe, attempting to get jiggy to the soundtrack album) is writ-through my turbulent late-adolescence (i calculate my emotional age now from the time when i emotionally entered puberty; therefore when i was aged 16, i had the emotional maturity of a 13 year old. by these calculations i am currently 18). i can see myself in the future forcing my young children to chant along with me, ali g style, 'KEEP IT REAL! KEEP IT REAL!', either before they head off to school if i can be bothered to get up that early or alternatively when they are presented before me, victorian-style, to remind me what they look like, before they head off to bed. sure, they'll get to about 10 or 11 and start to get embarassed about doing it and we'll stop, but i'll remind them i'm going to keep keeping it real until such a time as they begin to look back goldenly on their childhood. and then i'll txt them 'KEEP IT REAL' on monday mornings before heading off to work bumping T.I. in the car as loud as muthafucking possible.

T.I. - What You Know
New Order - Your Silent Face

and of course a re-up of those grindie tracks i posted the other day, they're all together in this folder with that streets track and the extra-special bonus of 'always' by bon jovi.

Grindie Tracks

the most beautiful gift in this world is music. the most beautiful thing i have seen this week was Arsenal's football against juventus. i might start posting up 'henry please stay' graffiti like they did at the city with the 'akinbiyi please stay' stuff, he needs to stay in this country, he makes it a better place for all of us (except spurs fans obviously, but they'll always be moody bastards anyway). the most precious possesion i have is my bass guitar (erm, and my computer). the amount of dirty washing i'm going to take home to my mum this weekend is zero. thats a gisborne guarantee.

i'm refusing to download the new streets album, i need to preserve some levels of excitement in my life.

watching twenty-four party people tonight, and then tomorrow i can have a shave and end my herbally-assisted sabbitical from normal engagement with humanity. with a night out at oceana.

peace x x (bit too much pout in that last picture maybe)

brian jones went to my school.

i just watched 'the aristocrats'. it was shite. i mean less funny than 'little britain'. less funny than 'keeping mum' (the bbc sitcom) and 'a prince among men' (ditto). i think it must be an american thing. i am now kind of worried that i have no sense of humour. i haven't wanted to stop watching a film by the time it got to half way for ages. i spent half an hour after watching it obsessively googling '"aristocrats isn't funny"' to see if i was the only person on the planet who didn't find it hilarious. i now want everyone i know to watch it and find it unfunny so i'm not all on my own. and to think i lost 5% of an essay mark to watch it.

mind you i just googled "a prince among men" on the bbc website and got something about "perfect world", that paul kaye comedy. i used to love that show! so theres some form of happy ending. or something. lock off.

X

I’m gasping for air, surrounded by rosy cheeks, chinos and curly hair, on the wrists of their fists African beads from when they went travelling there

so my termly letters about tutorial non-attendance are starting to drift in. the university keeps sending me letters (well, i'm expecting my 5th next week) saying;
'failure to attend tutorials is often a strong indication that a student is experiencing difficulties with either their course or other aspects of their life at university.'
well you've sent me 5! what more indication do you want! surely its clear by now that i'm not waving, i'm drowning.

its weird, at university its so easy to just hide yourself in the numbers and slip through the cracks. like if you do modules outside your school; don't sign up for tutorials, then you don't have to go to any and you won't even get these suprisingly polite letters telling you off for not going, they seem to have no way of checking up. i mean, why don't they have a register at lectures? really, its not rocket science is it? miss 30% of your lectures and you fail. grades would go through the roof. there's independent learning and then there's the university not giving a flying fuck as long as the county council keeps paying my cheques.

Download Roll Deep - Creeper Volume 1 (from Logan Sama)

Its the Grindie special!

Art Brut - Emily Kane (Why Lout? Remix)
this is brilliant, clever and funny and conceptually spot-on emceeing. yeah.
The Rakes - 22 Grand Job (Lethal Bizzle Remix)
this is an official version rather than one cheekily ripped off Living Legends Vol.1 (unfortunately the 'cunt's are censored (so to speak))
Test Icicles featuring Lethal Bizzle, Fumin 2Face, Ozzie B, Knowledge and Scary Whizzkid - Boa Vs. Python (Statik Remix)
Test Icicles featuring Ruff Sqwad and Statik - Catch It! (Jitset Remix)
bass. i love ruff sqwad.
Lethal Bizzle - Fire (Test Icicles Remix)
bizarre. the verses sound hard as fuck then you have the lamest chorus ever.
btw, all these tunes (except the Art Brut one) are on itunes so if you really like them, get them legally too. i mean i know record companies rip off artists to a far greater extent than downloaders do, but still, it is ruff sqwad. and given the teeny-tiny nature of grime there is the off-chance that they'll pop round and bring arms house to your mum's house.

special bonus, the greatest ever Streets song:
The Streets - Streets Score
this is so truthful, so real, i can see why it hasn't been on any streets album:
'i'm a fake, i don't live the streets, but theres only so many hours in the day and i use them to make beats'

neway, more music than words today.

peace
x
x
x

my towel smells off weed, i guess i've had another wasted week

only thing left is jail, death, or a record deal.

so thats a bit melodramatic. but it has come down to me in my room steadily hitting poppers and smoking joints (that are mainly golden virginia and desperation rather than anything worth inhaling) lurking across people's facebook profiles. and drinking miller beer because it was £2.99 for a four pack and i figured i might just be able to get pissed enough on a combination of that and what was still rotting in my stomach from last night to float through today.

still, match of the days on 2 and a half hours.

so last night was fucked. i can't really say too much, but it was kind of like living through all the cringing moments from both series of the office (and the christmas specials) compressed into half an hour in my kitchen. and then we all went out to ocean and i chain-smoked my way through the complete university cheese oeuvre.

i had quite a messed up realisation the other day. that if i ever did gain a love-life more involved than trying to make eye contact with women on buses the girl involved would literally not ever be able to cope with going out with me. like i cannot imagine any sort of relationship lasting more than 3 hours. it would be a fucking nightmare for her:
bass and band practice all over the place, my utter lack of self-control in just about any situation involving intoxicating substances, the fact that everytime we left the house i'd be trying to upstage her sartorially, the fact that i spend all day in bed, the fact that if i've had a heavy night i can resist the urge to shower until i've spent three days in my baggy trackies masturbating and drinking chicken soup with crisps in it, my utter contempt for mindless tv shows, my complete inability to sit and watch a film in company without getting bored after the first five minutes, the fact that it takes me 2 hours to get ready to go out (1 hour in the shower, half an hour straightening my hair, 29 minutes listening to 'what you know' and 'put you on the game' and 1 minute doing everything else), my relentless taste in music which would stop us from ever having 'our own song' because i'd feign boredness of it three months before its release date, the fact that i seem to spend most of my free time when not wanking getting caned and watcing grime dvds, peep show and major sporting events, the fact that i cry in films and at tv programmes (x-factor, crash even bloody 'the air up there' (kevin bacon basketball film: i always go when the lad's brother comes out and says 'i want to play for winabi'), the fact that i'm always late, the fact that i've given up all semblance of creative cooking in favour of microwave meals with cloying 'healthy' labels all over them, the fact that i have toothaste stains all over my bed sheets, the fact that i'm doing my best to start smoking, my constant stupid petty political arguments with george, my frankly nasal speaking voice. football manager. my behaviour during competitive pro evo matches. the fact that i douse every type of meal in half a side of balsamic and half a side of sarsons vinegar (a dynamic intermingling of flavours). the fact that i want to call my son famous. fuck. ing. hell. see, i don't see how i can turn all that around. i've still got january up on my wall calendar for fuck's sake. (its the arena calendar though and its a mint picture of rachel stevens, by far the best one). i have spent like 6 months signing into msn without ever doing anything other than 'appear offline'. someone needs to sort their life out. still at least i've pinpoited a reason not to be depressed about being a singleton: my current stage of human development means its better for all concerned if i'm single at the moment.

what ever happened to 'hey ya'? i used to turn off the radio when my family were in the car after that song finished because i reasoned that it was the best song ever made and nothing else would ever top it; so why diminish its majesty when we could just sit here in silence and contemplate the acheivement of andre 'ice cold' 3000 in making it? its like the ultimate nightclub and radio taboo song at the moment. even gary glitter gets more play/ incidentally, in the video for 'hey ya' i'm the keyboard player (metaphorically speaking of course). the one who can't bear to make eye contact with the fit girls in the audience.

i am also watching far too much peep show. its fucking with my head.

yeah, neway i'm gonna go and tape that stravinsky programme thats on in a while. sorry no pictures or music, internet connection is wank.

peace x x x

p.s. im not depressed or nuttin', just taking a dispassionate view of my life as a 21 year-old waster. don't worry i'm still conceited - and i've got a reason.

(to be conceited)

(my face)