you'll cowards don't even flare right

hello

it is so that, at least with regards to time of this being published ("dropped"), the English football league will convene or commence once more. so too the Scottish one, i suppose, but i strive to keep things such as religion and sectarian violence away from here, look you see. before you know it we shall be told again how the "best and greatest" football in the world is back on, with exceptionally high prices being asked to watch the banal and boring futility of it all. 

except, maybe not so. if a particular trend from the tail end of last season continues, it might just actually be interesting to watch. that is, of course, if the "fans" still insist on persisting with letting off flares during games. albeit in a cowardly cheating way. 

to be fair, flares have been an integral part of football for quite some time. for decades certain hardcore fans of continental European sides have let them off, mostly just to draw attention to their plight of being supporters of lesser teams. in England it's been not too unusual to see them being set off in a game every now and then for a decade or so. yet last season saw it all escalate with fans setting off flares at just the slightest hint of the mediocrity of an average game being broken. 

why flares? no idea. my guess is they have somehow become more affordable or at the least a lot easier to obtain than they perhaps should be. once it was so that a flare was the preserve of an emergency event, typically at sea, to raise awareness of the distress one was in and deliver the slight hope of salvation and saviour. i would not be at all surprised if they are now easier - and cheaper - to buy than a packet of cigarettes. 

not everyone is enthusiastic about flares being a quintessential part of the football experience now. or any such experience, i suppose. for a start, most football stadium security and safety staff likely don't like them. away from football and legendary hard man, pilot and singer Bruce Dickinson recently, at a concert, likened someone to a woman's vagina in a rather crude way for setting one off. 

above, and of course presented in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode, is a glimpse at the chaotic scenes witnessed at Everton on the last day of the previous season. i had no idea they even made flares in blue, which seems strange and would be of little use at sea during the day. here you can see them, the fans, celebrating the fact that their team has managed to reach the minimum requirements of the definition of barely functional. goodness knows what they hold in reserve to set off if they actually achieve anything but the lowest level of expectation. 

do i have an issue, quarrel or problem with all these flares being set off at football games? not really. i mean, yes, no, it's not great that they are going off and causing distress to younger fans, or anyone who is improbably at a football match either by accident or in innocence. ultimately it's just yet one more trend or thing in this appalling century i do not understand, but am not likely to speak out against too much for fear of getting cancelled, whatever that actually means. 

but that said, if you are going to do something then for goodness sake do it properly. if you really, really must set off flares at football games, then have the courage and conviction of the pioneer of this peculiar art. 

yes, indeed, but of course i mean the mythical, legendary Ar$e Flare Man off of Euro 2020(1). his moment of crowning glory is indeed very much picture above. no "woooh, look at me i am holding a flare" from him. oh no, straight up his behind it went, ladies and gentleman. many are the things he has been called, but not once has he been declared a coward. 

circumstantial evidence does, of course, detract from the achievements of Ar$e Flare Man for some. a day of drinking cider so weak he had to deck more than a dozen cans and snorting coke so stepped on it would have been safe to feed a baby seal obviously clouded his judgement somewhat. there's also the blatant if not latent homoerotic nature of circumstances, which seem in retrospect to make the actual football or flare somewhat redundant. yes, true, his life as a "roofer" was so unimaginative that the one time he actually got to do something interesting - go on a "stag do" - he had to get it tattooed on his rear. and let us not forget that his general thinking process led to him making decisions such as somehow managing to spend north of £500 on an ill-fitting bucket hat which essentially would have been considered by most to have been overpriced at £20 down Sports Direct. 

some have suggested that little ill would affect the world had this incident gone wrong. had it been so that this intellectual giant, who let us not forget rather chose to bribe his way in to football matches for an amount in excess of £250 rather than just spending £200 on an actual ticket, has suffered any severe rectal trauma from his escapade, well, no loss. but this misses the point. he was brave enough to flare right; he believed in doing it proper. 

journalism used to be a fine art. once it was so that one had to deliver maximum information with minimal words, such was the price of print on paper. not so now. which is why, i suppose, when the details of the brave and courageous Ar$e Flare Man were reported by the press they took the time to point out that he was a post-2004 era Chelsea fan. i can assure you everyone reading of his exploits was quite aware of this prior to it being confirmed by the press. 

how is flare use going to progress, or if you like evolve, during this season? many, i suppose, would prefer it to be not so, that we should (in a sense) move backwards and limit the use of flares at football grounds, rather than accelerate it. if we take it as a given, what next? exactly what will people find reason to set a flare off for? at one point it was just when a goal was scored, or a vague sense of value was reached by surviving in a particular division. now, who knows, we may well see people set off flares every time their team wins a hotly contested throw in, or even something as ambitious as a corner, or offside decision.  

if the fans who are insistent on doing flares at football games do it proper - trousers down, flare up the bottom and ignite - then i suppose one really can't complain. at least they are showing true dedication and commitment, and not being part time prawn sandwich eating casual fans. but they probably won't, for they are likely too scared, or plain coward, to flare right. 

perhaps - maybe - it will be so that flare use shall take a massive step backwards. as in downgrade in use, or if you like devolve. at certain stages fans have used flares, along with (absolutely) anything else they could get their hands on, to deploy as rudimentary weapons against fans who happen to also like football but ostensibly support a different team. indeed, such has (have) also been used against teams visiting grounds, so as to scare them. this appears to happen a lot when the visiting team is superior, the home fans know it and so try to put them off. please, please, please, please note that i did not, under any circumstances at all, single out or highlight Liverpool in respect of this. although, going on the marketing, apparently i am to stress it "means more" whenever they do it. 

my instinct is that whatever happens on the peripherals of modern football - and by that i mean the increasingly decreased in value audience - doesn't matter much. everything about certain matters in the game - the ludicrous last year of transfer for Lukaku, for example - suggests that it's all rather like those high value art auctions and the underbelly of "crypto currency". merely a front for money laundering, or moving money without source and destination truly being revealed. anyone who happens to gain a few coins on the side whilst it all goes on is fortunate, but most will be burned. in particular if they use flares, of course. 

will it be so that i shall follow much or any of what goes on in the football? most likely yes, for what else is it would i do with the time if i did not. of course people doing interesting things with items ostensibly designed for use in more marine circumstances is also of appeal. 

UPDATE : oh, right. well, that's (pretty much) that, then. according to this news report it seems that flares and other pyrotechnic things will be banned, and those what do a naughty and sneak one in shall be in a good deal of silly bother. the era of Ar$e Flare Man may be over, although i suspect he isn't one to respect the rule of law too much. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

quite a few films

hello there

so little is the time that i get to do this that i have somehow managed to watch a whole stack of films, or movies, since i last did any sort of "think piece" on what i had watched. many, i am aware, would say it is a good thing for me not to take up so much internet space. they are not necessarily wrong to speak so, look you see. but here we are.

let me, with an unusually generous amount of time to myself momentarily, remedy writing of films from the above. it shall be, i suspect, a challenge to my ever decreasing memory to list them all (i am pretty sure i forgot one or two the last time i did this), but what i thought of them should remain true. or, at the very least, as true as i get. yes, indeed, something is either true or it is not. 

briefly, then, a glance at some (four) of what i watched. with a warning that there is every chance of some of those *** SPOILERS *** present in comments. certain films under discussion are quite old, although as a friend put it a "new" movie only becomes an "old" one when you've seen it. 

from what i can recall the first of this "new batch" what i watched (since the last post) was Man Bites Dog as it got called here in England (and other places), which is interesting as the original titles translates as It Happened Near Your Home. but, as i recall, the main reason this got released at all overseas was that at around the same time Reservoir Dogs pushed some boundaries of screen violence. fairly obvious cash in title, then, and certainly the Belgians decided to go (at least) one louder in respect of boundaries. if you are unaware of the film, essentially it's a "mockumentary" about a serial (or indeed random) killer, and it is brutal and hilarious. 

why watch again, especially for the first time in, probably, a quarter of a century? some parts of it kept coming back to mind, so figured why not, especially when the tape (DVD) was going cheap. yes, it remains as repulsive as it does darkly funny, condemning you for forcing you to do nothing but laugh at some points. virtually every "ism" you can come up gets ticked off in the film as a means of upset, and one suspects there would be absolutely no chance of this being made or released today. really probably should have caused more fuss at the time, but it's funny what happens when you make a film in black and white and not in English. those two qualities apparently make it immediately "art" and thus you can get away with all sorts. no, i would not wish to see a colour version, thanks. 

on, then, to what is likely (thus far) to be the greatest artistic achievement of this miserable century or millennium. for yes, certainly, behold, i have indeed witnessed the greatness that is Beavis And Butthead Do The Universe. and it is beautiful.

there was something of a fear that it would be Bill & Ted, that revisiting a much cherished thing from decades ago would not end well. and yet it does here, for there is no ageing or development. essentially the film is them two wandering around with their constant smirk giggle, describing things purely as being cool or stating that they suck, finding smut and innuendo everywhere. were it so that we were honest, we would confess to wishing to live such a life. 

i suspect the appeal of this film will be (severely) restricted to those of "my age era", or generation if you like, and even then just those that liked the TV show (and original film) at the time. hence it going out straight on that rather disposable (bar the odd fluke) "streaming" format, or "platform". quite the shame, but there we go. for those of you who don't mind spoilers, alas, sadly no, there is no song included on the soundtrack as smart as Lesbian Seagull, and also Mr Anderson (or his shed) does (do) not feature. but still, i very much enjoyed. 

since the infamous "curse of Keanu" has entered the conversation (never mind Bill & Ted, just think of any Matrix sequel), yes, to wrap things up i did indeed seek out and watch John Wick 2 and of course John Wick 3. also, i believe another is on the way? not bad, either of them, but still the feel of diminishing returns was an ever constant. 

although the first one (John Wick) was quite good in as much as it featured one of the idiot offspring of Keith Allen getting absolutely battered, these two did not continue that trend. sadly. further, the main fault or problem with the first was no nudies, and that kind of remains the same here. one article i read somewhere suggests copious nudies no longer feature in films as they can no more rely on it as a marketing tool; not with the proliferation of such (in high quality) on that internet. oh. effectively, these films are the same thing; Keanu kills lots of people and Keanu does not get killed. there are many, many worse variations of this. but also better ones, with nudies in. 

not once, and not as often as three times, but twice i have been to an actual, real cinema, then, to see the wonders of Top Gun Maverick. reports indicate that everyone in the world will have seen this film now, going on the box office figures. this does not surprise me. it's brilliant. whilst i am no expert in what does or does not work, it strikes me they did that wonderful Godfather Part II trick, or even The Dark Knight. arguably The Empire Strikes Back but let us not wake up Space War Treks or whatever fans. a sequel what is even better than a formidable original, based on the basic of taking what worked in the original (often, to be fair, in this one, very directly) and building on it, rather than just replicating. 

my first attendance at the cinema was the day after it got released, with a good friend and colleague. down in Leicester Square no less. the last time i saw a film there was Cape Fear, with a different good friend and college associate. William expressed an interest in seeing it, so i took him to see it, but not down in London (innit). James expressed no interest in it. 

yes, the above pic is from Top Gun but i shall clarify why just now. despite it being a delayed sequel of sorts, i think a lot of the magic of Top Gun Maverick is of it being a self-contained film, no "expanded universe" or remake or "saga" or "colour by numbers" disposable viewing. packed to the brim, it is, with well defined characters, breathtaking action, wonderful humour and true emotional involvement. a reminder of how cinema used to be when you could just make a film, and not worry about it being part of a bigger franchise, or "cannon". 

for a large spoiler section (being for the benefit of the three people reading this yet to see it), in all likelihood this motion picture is Val Kilmer bowing out, saying farewell to us, the humble movie fans enthralled and entertained by his talents all these years. i do not care, i do not give the slightest, single f*** what Tom Cruise believes in, or does off screen. all i know is he is a beautiful man with a beautiful heart to have enforced them constructing this entire film around how they could get the very ill Val to be in it. bravo and bless you, sir. 

it is so that William had not actually seen the original Top Gun, so i fixed that for him with a low down priced blu-ray tape (disc) of it off some supermarket. for me it affirmed that the original was really good, but still Maverick somehow went better. for William, he said it (the original) was good, but the sequel was better, mostly as the sequel does not have "a stupid love scene wasting time where the planes could be having another dogfight". he's not wrong. 

going surprisingly linear (with narrative if not order of watching films), a (very) good friend asked, on the basis of my love for Top Gun Maverick, if i had yet seen Val. no, i had not. so i (ahem) sought it out, borrowed a tape, so to speak, and saw it. wow, just wow. a rather incredible collection of home videos he had kept, and generously shared with an audience. it's heartbreakingly brilliant. yes, i have rather liked Val Kilmer ever since me, my brother and sister rented Top Secret! off of the video shop in a petrol station strangely close to a school. and yes, all of you were wrong to let that at (the very) best reasonably competent director distract everyone from his lack of ability by blaming Kilmer for a certain film not being so good. 

highlight of Val for me was undoubtedly seeing his audition tapes for Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. whereas that film was (of course) perfectly cast and made, damn, it would be interesting to know how close, if at all, he came to being in that movie. oh well. also, the sheer work and effort he went into for every role, but particularly that of Morrison in The Doors. further, the reminder that like everyone else i went in to watching Heat with a view of "at last" De Niro and Pacino working together, only to discover easily the best actor and true "star" of that incredible film was Val. 

the same (very) good friend also asked if i had seen the in no way Val Kilmer related film Palm Springs. i forget what it was in connection with, some topic of discourse or other, but the answer remained no, i had not. as it turned out a rather difficult film to locate in the UK, and yet still i was able to (ahem) borrow a tape of it for a look. 

perhaps the best way to describe this one is as a quasi remake of the classic Groundhog Day, but for a somewhat more mature (not necessarily adult) audience rather than being family friendly (ish). quite a lot of sex and references, more graphic deaths and murder, and also the addition of science. so, a bit the same in premise (living the same day again and again) but a quite different take. 

really, though, or perhaps 'essentially' it's one of them rather quirkly, feelgood films what for some specific reason American "indie" filmmakers have a true gift for. i loved, say, Napoleon Dynamite and in particular Safety Not Guaranteed for the same reasons i liked Palm Springs - it just feels good when you are watching it, and very satisfactory after. inexplicably difficult to get a copy, but worth the effort of finding it, should my view be of any use.

continuing a somewhat linear trend, it was so that another colleague (and indeed friend) quizzed me on the subject of the motion picture Team America : World Police. no, i confessed, when asked, i had not ever actually seen it. he told me off for this. as did the bloke in the shop where i bought it, and as did a friend (and former colleague) who called me as i eventually did see it. 

no, that's not from this film (the picture above), one to come later. a great one, too. but, anyway, since this is supposed to be Team America : World Police, on to that. not really sure why i didn't see it on release. speculative guesses would be too busy with married life, parental life or something. also, i suspect, it just didn't appeal, as the whole joke appeared to be "made with puppets". as it turns out, that's not too far from it. risking upsetting some who hold it dear, well, it just has not aged quite so well as the makers' other work, South Park, has. rather funny in places - especially and unexpectedly with the songs, and yes of course the theme tune - but roughly one quarter of the laughs of the original South Park Movie or the movie that should have been, Imaginationland. glad to have seen it, don't think you can make those sort of jokes about Alec Baldwin no more (at least not momentarily) but i can't see me ever putting this tape (disc) in the machine again when i have South Park ones to had. 

my suspicion would be that regular readers (thank you) are quite baffled by the lack of things being presented in the greater good and glory of Commodore  mode, for that reason let me move on to the film that is Doctor Strange 2, or something like that. i think maybe Doctor Strange In The Multiverse Of Madness is the actual, proper name. average, colour by numbers film would be it in short. 

i would suspect i am not alone, but all the same a silent number, in thinking that there is now well and truly just too f*****g much of all this Marvel "expanded universe" stuff. haven't counted but it feels like two or three films are being thrown out each year, along with some series or other on a streaming service. and one has to see all of it to vaguely understand any of it. at least things like Dallas were just once a week. 

plot of this one? well, not sure. i mean, at times, there were five or even six consecutive minutes where things in Doctor Strange II made sense. the most confusing part is the name, for if anything it all plays like a sequel (or extension) to the series WandaVision (which i thought was called One Division) with hints of the most recent Spider-Man thing. having Sam Raimi direct it filled me with optimism, but alas other than loading the film - to the point of distraction - with Evil Dead references, he just does that thing i believe the call "phoning it in". 

a little while ago Martin Scorsese (i think) said that all these super hero / comic book novels were not really film-making. he got knacked for that, but has been proven right. the films seem to be made on the basis of four or five scenes (or incidents) being included so as to tie in to other films, and then the rest is all "colour by numbers". barring (at best) the first two Iron Man films, essentially all of these Marvel films have been remakes of The Blues Brothers - imperfect heroes are either putting a band together or back together to achieve an improbable good, but the heroes must pay a price for it. the only real deviation was Black Panther, which took some of those elements but mostly was just a very clever, tacit remake of The Lion King. 

keeping the strange, peculiar (and unexpected) linear narrative going (kind of), then, with a Martin Scorsese film. which would be Bringing Out The Dead. no, i didn't watch it at the time. once GoodFellas got followed up with Age Of Innocence and Casino i clocked that he had run out of things to say. yes, i tried his "film that he had been trying to make for decades", Gangs Of New York, and it was atrocious. just people stealing watches. sure, i get the "time" metaphor, but really? for three f*****g hours? how thick does he think his audience is (or was)? 

watching it (eventually) came about when i was reminded of it in some internet based chat what Nic Cage recently did. he was asked to name his own personal favourite three films of his career. of course, and predictably, he named his most recent (to have been released), the one he won and Oscar for and then, perhaps to the surprise of many (me included), this one, Bringing Out The Dead. trying to name just three (3) class Nic Cage films is tricky, really. well, for me Wild At Heart will forever be number one, possibly rounded out with Face/Off and Lord Of War. 

so, i bought a tape (disc) of this one and watched it. not bad per se. appreciating that it was based on the book by a real life paramedic (or what Americans call them), huge chunks of it felt like i was watching a clever, completely relocated take on Catch 22. which is no bad thing. i cannot make up my mind about how it compares to Scorsese's other "New York but not crime specifically" film, the magnificent After Hours. whereas i have no regrets over the time invested in watching it, i am not so sure i would hold it up as a finest hour of either director or star. 

right, on to what i think is the last of this batch of films watched. unless i saw something on a streaming service or other and forgot it. but yes, no, it's the one previewed earlier, and it is Hired To Kill. 

every person who has ever watched movies (of films) has heard the expression "it's so bad it's good" to describe one of them at some point. ladies and gentlemen, Hired To Kill is a dictionary definition of this. by some margin it is the greatest 19p what i have ever spent in a charity shop on a tape. actually, i wish this had been a tape, in the mid to late 80s, for my brother and i would have rented the absolute p!ss out of this one until we worked out how to connect two videos to make our own copy. not that i would do that, hope taping is killing music, etc. 

it's just sh!t really, vaguely revolving around a plot to free some friendly leader in some country via means of sneaking into the country as a fashion designer with a bunch of models trained to kill. yes, Ollie Reed is the main "baddie" what has to be beaten to get the leader (Jose Ferrer) out, and no less than, to unexpectedly mention it again, Dallas star (of sorts) George Kennedy is the one who hires the leader of this band - Brian Thompson. if you are asking "who", he played the "alien shape shifter bounty hunter" in Mulder & Scully or whatever it was called. effectively this film, from 1990, appears to have been attempt to pitch him as a "cheaper" Schwarzenegger for films. and by cheap i do mean getting change from US$100, rather than paying millions. 

yes, i did quite like the "love scene" between Ollie and Brian, hence the pictures. as it happens, and those well versed in his work shall not need me to say so, macho man love scenes occurred in a good many of Ollie's films. he liked naked wrestling with men, he did, bless him. and drinking.

under no circumstances whatsoever would this film get made today, and that's not particularly a bad thing. very much of its time it is, with an incredibly sexist, misogynistic script. doubt any channel anywhere in the world would broadcast it either. also, a very disappointing lack of nudity, considering the cast is predominantly lady models and there's even a scene set in a women's prison. what nudity that does turn up is rather disturbing by any standard, as it happens, but still. a lovely man love scene with Ollie kind of balances it all out. 

going back to my last post on films (here), i think this one would make a pretty decent double bill with that film i thought was good but also would be better with (more) nudies, Inglorious B@stards. or i might just watch this one on its own again. well, by watch, i mean skip to the Ollie man love bit.

no, i am sure that i am forgetting (at least) one film, but never mind, that i think is quite enough for one post. certainly i am quite aware my views on these films, or any others, or anything are of little actual value, but there you go anyway. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

bonjour mon amis

tres bien

nothing really, just had a look at the stats for this blog (which i do from time to time) and am quite astounded by my readership. well, very much astounded by somewhere north of 300 people a day popping by, look you see (and thank you for doing so), but also astounded by the make up of said audience. 

quite baffled why so many Frenchies would wish to read this. i would have (really) thought that French internet, whatever that is, would have things of far more interest for them. perhaps a button on their computer is broke, so they can only see this? 

in no way (at all) would i have thought i was avant garde, cosmopolitan, trendy or parisian enough for them, but encore, sacre bleu, there we have it. cheers, nice one. even if they are just coming along to look at it and sneer, or whatever French actually do. 

yes, i do take that "other" as being that people on the high seas or in space reading this. i simply don't f****g care if it is true or not. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

adam ant at last

howdy pop pickers

well, that's another yellow brick road followed all the way to the end. of all the ones wandered, this must surely be the longest (outside of life, look you see) to travel, for it has taken (more or less) 41 years to get to the end. and, at the end, was seeing no less than Adam Ant, live and in concert. eventually. 

this was supposed to be my first and only actually planned gig of the year, 2022. i procured the tickets last May, with a view to the concert happening in the latter stages (or business end) of February. about a week or so before then, however, it got postponed due to "illness". not a problem, the new date was set for a most pivotal one in June. and then that got postponed, on the day. arranged once more it was, then, on a date which is somewhat notable for the French. 

in the mean time, i went to a first, a second and indeed a third gig of the year. here we are, then, at number four (4) for the year. yes, i had doubts it would actually, really go ahead, all the way up to the distinct drums of Antmusic kicked in. 

oh yes, front row tickets. whereas not quite so dramatic as certain other previous ticket acquisitions, where and when i might have temporarily closed down (ahem) an entire division of a corporate banking concern to see four lads off of Madchester (rave on), i did take the liberty of a late start to verk one morning, so as to be in front of a laptop to purchase tickets for this one. yes, temptations and offers to exchange the tickets i had for a voucher for other shows when they kept postponing this one came my way, but i was reluctant to give up front row seats for he who(m) was very much my first pop music idol. 

eight, nine or maybe as young as seven i could well have been when i became infected by the ways and charms of the ant invasion. by that point (or stage) my musical tastes were mostly records off of The Wombles, whatever Mum & Dad listened to (good stuff) or what bits i caught a glimpse of on the tele. perhaps i am mistaken, but i doubt so, but i believe it was Adam & The Ants, and shortly thereafter just Adam Ant, that saw me branch off and detour on my "own" musical passion. certainly, i recall Dad was none too fond of having the Prince Charming tape in the car. and so yeah, it has taken some 41 years to get to see him. i believe that i could have seen him sooner, but we shall get to that. or i will, you too should you keep reading. 

after such a wait, and then an extended wait, was it all worth it, or was Adam Ant any good? yes. whilst or whereas Adam Ant is eloquent, well spoken and educated and so would frown on such language, but indeed f*** yeah he was f*****g brilliant, thank you. 

does one get what they might expect off of an Adam Ant gig? most decidedly yes has to be the answer here, no matter what it is you wanted. so far as i can recall, or could work out, the only "big" hit not to get played was Ant Rap. not sure if he has ever done it live, to be honest. i suspect not, for i dare say singing "from the naughty north to the sexy south" live, whilst keeping a straight face, would be rather tricky. even for someone as immensely talented as he. 

for the more hardcore fans, well, there were plenty of more "obscure" numbers. i was, for a start, quite pleased and very impressed by the number of pre-mega (uber) fame Dirk Wears White Sox songs included. also a few (i think they are, i do not have my vinyl to check at hand) much loved b-sides and album only tracks, notably B-Side Baby and Alien. 

signs were up all over, saying that video recording was prohibited. i elected to abide by this for the start, but then everyone else was doing so. mostly for friends and family around the world (in particular my dear brother, who specifically asked) i took some clips. alas, front row means right next to the speakers, which means awful distorted sound, but here you go. how about a nice bit of Prince Charming. 

one abiding memory (besides being in awe of seeing a hero i have loved for 41 years, live, in the flesh and right in f*****g front of me) of the gig shall be how Adam interacted with the audience. well, actually or how he did not. sure, he was quite talkative, giving a few stories in front of songs (in particular the really early ones from his career), but in no way responding. there were many cheers of Adam we love you, and a few (breaking the idea it was supposed to be a seated performance) tried to reach out to touch him, but no. glass wall, if you will. this is absolutely fine, in fact a bit refreshing. he is, i would like to think, "old school". you, the audience, are there to see him, to hear him sing, to watch him dance and perform. not to chat with a select few. nice one. 

momentarily i shall pause to raise applause for the support act, Laurie Black. other than the fact she had a boss drum machine and synth thing on the go, no, i wasn't really won over as a fan of her music. but man, i think she's wonderful. oozing with confidence and a clear talent meant for a different demographic than i am in, she's ace, she is. very much imbued in that 70s sense of what they hey punk, but quite grounded in the modern world. 

since Laurie Black at one stage called upon people to take pictures and video, here you go, image above, bit of (quite poor) video below. better of both (you would hope) are available over on her offcial website thing, which can be found by clicking here. 

being frank, honest and nearly (but not quite) as frank as Ms Black, i am really not sure she's my cup of tea. rather too many songs about space tampons, if we are being honest. then again, as and when payday rolls gleefully around, i may well purchase one of her tapes (CDs) off of her site, for my choice would be to support, not throw scorn. 

right, back to Adam Ant then. one thing what i have always loved about Adam Ant (or his music) is that he really, really loves drums. i mean, two drummers in the band, and when the one guitarist and the bass player are not playing their usual instrument they are expected to bang on some massive drums. and it's excellent, man, really awesome. other than the opening track, the "as many drums as possible" made a song like, say, Kings Of The Wild Frontier sound all the more intimidating and thus awesome. 

yes, i probably (certainly) have uploaded more pics than i would have text for, so here we are. other than Adam Ant, the only other musical concern i can think of what subscribed to the belief of as many drums as possible was (were) Sigue Sigue Sputnik. and they were awesome too, but no i have not seen them and presumably never shall. not so of Adam, now.

now, then, the journey down this yellow brick road. i believe, and this is in accepting my very much wonky logic and sometimes unusual outlook on the world, that i should have seen Adam Ant, live and in concert (in person), 41 years ago. whilst residing in Australia (g'day) it was so that Uncle Colin came to see us. and whilst doing so he went and saw Adam Ant, without me. i was heartbroken. and remained so, all these years. 

sure, yes, of course, i was far too young, and he went and saw him in Perth, whilst i was in Sydney, which is a bit of a distance. but still, you know, man, a plan could have been made. 

absolutely no hesitation, then, in inviting Uncle Colin to go and see this gig with me, as pictured above. made a nice sort of bookend to it all, really, as us literature students are so ardently prone to do. quite a shame that neither of the first proposed dates for the gig went ahead, as Colin had two knees in those instances. for this third, the one that happened, not so much, but there you go. 

unless i am really quite mistaken, or wedding bands count, this was the first gig i had been to with Uncle Colin in thirty five and one half years. wow. the previous was a band called Frankie Goes To Hollywood, of who(m) you may have heard. should you have any interest, have a look at virtually any post i gone done here on January 10 of most years. perhaps we shall go to one again a bit sooner. 

bit more video for you there above. sorry for the distorted sound, but also no, i am absolutely not sorry for being that close to the stage and (subsequently or consequentially) the speakers. for those wary of clicking on, a bit of Stand And Deliver for you, the people. ant music for sex people indeed. 

quite surprised i did not turn into a blubbering, pre-teenage, crying my eyes out wreck when Adam Ant came on stage. certainly i was excited, but after all the postponements i suppose my sense was relief that it was accomplished, at last i was really seeing him. perhaps i have become complacent, going to as many gigs as i have, seeing as many musicians as i have loved. but then Adam shall forever have a special place in my heart. whatever the reason for me being well behaved and in control of my emotions, i think we can rule out it me being all mature and sophisticated. possibly.

my heart, or some form of instinct, tells me that no, i shall probably not get a further chance to see Adam Ant once more. i hope i am wrong here, for if there was another gig then yes, probably, i would get tickets and go. and so, of course, say to you dear reader, if there is an opportunity for you to see him then see him. let me be so, though, for a little peace in me has been brought by this. 

hadiddlyquaqua, hadiddlyquaqua, hadiddlyquaqua.

encounter with a death moth

heya

well, one of two things are perhaps the case here. either i did encounter a death moth, or just saw one what looked liked how i imagined one to be. if the former, then the title pretty much covers it all, look you see. should the latter be truthful, my apologies for wasting any time, if i did as point of fact do that. 

right, so where to commence. in this instance, more or less (after this text) with a picture, presumably, since the theme here is most decidedly visual. here you go then, an image of the presumed death moth. in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode, with pictures less or fewer of that most beloved format to follow. 

a bit of a background story, then. it was so that i woke, did usually things what one might do on waking and this very much involved cigarettes (sorry), then got all prepared and ready to head off out to do some of that verk stuff. remember, if you will, people of my age, how we were told at school how by the years of the 2000s it would be all machines and we would live proper actual lives of leisure. yeah. 

on reaching my vehicle of if not quite choice then this delegation, it was that i observed this insect, which i take to be a moth, parked on my parked vehicle. surely there is some symbolism or what have you there, but you work it out. to my surprise, and great interest, it (he, she or what have you) remained quite still as i approached, not moving even when i fiddled around to get my phone with a camera welded on it to take some images. believe you me, the Commodore 64 function is not quiet. 

despite being reasonably confident, or sure, that it (this) is a moth, no, i am not certain it is an actual, genuine death moth. a disgrace i may very well be, but it is quite some time since i last watched the silence of the lambs, so had no immediate way of confirming. surely, certainly, it looks like how one might thing such would seem, with the pattern suggesting a skull, be it a quirk of appearance or carefully constructed from delicate images of ladies what are doing nudies. 

just what, exactly, does encountering a death moth (if i did so) mean? well, i did one of them google things, and i skimmed read a bit and it seems there is a kind of sexual connotation to it. rather splendid, you would think, but also one could interpret such as likely to find themselves in a rudimentary, home made yet perfectly serviceable bit, resplendent with some lotion. and a bucket. 

believing that x may happen because of y, or z due to z, or even a leads to be (etc) relies on one having a disposition to the superstitious. well, let's have a look at the name of my blog, then. oh. 

my understanding, from what i can remember, is that the actual real, proper "death moth" things are something or other to do with South America. not impossible that one could turn up in the south bits of England (where i was), but remarkably unlikely. still, quite a lovely creature to see. 

should some curse or similar fate befall me, well, i suppose as a convenience it can be described as the hand of fate in the form of me encountering a death moth. maybe. certainly my hope, even if just for a fleeting moment, is not to be so afflicted, but what will be shall come to pass. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nes car wash

greetings

well, what can i say. hopefully something, look you see, since i have just started writing yet another post here. more so, then, that what could i say after the entirely unexpected "success" of my most recent, before this, post on the subject of a car wash. for some reason somewhere just south of five hundred of you have elected to look at the Atari 2600 variation of the theme of car wash here. thank you. 

on i go, then, with another car wash thing, but in this instance using a different mode. yes, of course, that would be the Nintendo NES, as the title suggests. 

i am not sure one should call it the Nintendo NES, really. this is because, so far as i am aware, NES stands for 'Nintendo Entertainment System'. so saying Nintendo NES is saying "Nintendo Nintendo Entertainment System", which is silly. after all, it is not like there was ever such a thing as the Sega NES, or Atari NES. i bet a Commodore NES would have been boss, mind. 

the NES (which is an acronym, by the way, for "nes" is a pronounceable word. things like fbi, cia, etc are not, they are just initials) was always more the preserve of my brother, to be honest. he was absolutely boss at all the games on it, in particular them Mario ones. i tried to play them, but was not so good. enjoyed them, mind. 

my initial view on these NES images down at the carwash (or car wash for spell check) was that they were not for me, for they did not offer the abstract door to imagination of Commodore 64 mode. and yet i look at the animated gif thing above, and am quite impressed with how water running down the windscreen comes across. proper smart, that is. 

certainly, indeed, yes, i have reached that point where there isn't much more i can say of a car wash that i have not already written. so here's a picture of them big floppy soft brush things, working their magic all over the windscreen. or most of it. 

for a conclusion, or if you like climax, sure, a bit more animated stuff for you. here you go, one of them big floppy brush things going past the passenger side window. at least, i must clarify, the passenger side on a proper vehicle with a proper road system. 

some of you readers are off of American, whilst some (inexplicably) are off of France. it is not my problem that the powers that be for your nations f****d you right over and built cars and roads backwards so you all drive on the wrong side of the road. yes, then, the passenger side is where your driver side is so laughably, incorrectly placed. 

people with far, far too much free time on their hands may well have spotted this, but to clarify, yes, it is indeed so that, blink and you shall miss, on that last animated one you can indeed, kind of, see a brief image of me (moi) on the folded in mirror. had you not noticed this, well i would not rush to try and do so, but your time is yours. 

until the next post, then. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

could have tripped out quite easy but i decided to stay

hello there

there's a path i walk along on a fairly frequent basis. weekly, look you see. more or less the same time, which i suppose is silly as i am making it all too easy for any state sponsored assassin. no matter. it is a path with is most agreeable, and perfectly serviceable. with respect to the latter, it allows me to go from a letterbox (at which i mail postal items) and towards some shops, where i generally have some business to attend to. at a quite specific point of it i find that if i light a cigarette (sorry), then i shall have finished smoking it by the time i reach a public waste bin on may way, thus enabling me to dispose of my asbestos and rocket fuel laden finished filter in a reasonably responsible way. 

a defining aspect of this walk is that, mostly, it is a lonely one. oh yes, no, i don't mean as anything but the general, for as regular followers of my lot in life shall be all to aware, i have been cast aside, set in exile, destined to be forever alone which was, perhaps (or arguably) my true destiny anyway. in this instance, however, i mean more so that i seldom see anyone take this path, or route, between two particular places. my understanding is that not so many people send letters no more, but still. 

so as to give some sort of relevance (or reason) to the previous paragraph, little if anything of this walk of mine suggests it is an ideal place for one to make some sort of statement, or otherwise drawn attention to some concern or another. at the least, not if one wished a wide audience to take it in. yet this is, of course, precisely what someone has done. 

quite the statement that, especially when (as is the case above) presented in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode. yes, a non-C64 version is below, but for those eager to read a narration of what it says, well, it says "remain terrified, question nothing, stay asleep". not the most fluent, roll off of the tongue phrase ever created, but there is is. also, of course, topped off with some sort of eye inside a triangle, with the triangle (i suspect) presumably intended to represent a pyramid. 

lacking any presented clarification on what this is about (or protests), i shall assume or take as a given that it is all to do with the crusade against the crusade against the new plague, and all that vaccination stuff. or, whilst i wasn't looking, various ideas concerning something called the "illuminati" and their rather clandestine, select ways of covertly controlling the world. or maybe it is all something else. 

of the three (3) statements posed by this sticker, the latter (or final) one is presently of most appeal. to sleep, to remain asleep, to trip out, to drift away and never wake. bliss, perhaps, awaits. does one find that it all comes to an abrupt halt, the impossible to imagine nothingness, or does conscious, spirit, or mind (soul, even) perpetuate infinite, nursed in blankets of soothing recollections? either would be most agreeable, neither appears my fate, momentarily. 

mostly this brought to mind them smart car (or truck, or similar) bumper stickers what were all the rage back in the (19)90s, proclaiming that the government was "lying" about knowing about aliens and what have you. all, undoubtedly, inspired by Mulder & Scully or whatever it was called. rather laughable, of course, the idea of the USA government being able to hide something. they could not kill one President without it being theatrical, then one President could not have a lady perform a certain act of a personal nature without a north of nine hundred page report on it. and they can hide things? 

yes, perhaps i am spreading some conspiracy theory by posting this here, or maybe i am sharing a truth. with them refusing to clarify what, exactly, this pertains to, i simply don't know. but for some reason i remain of a sense of being compelled to put things here, so here we are. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Marie Marx Concert

Howdy Pop Pickers

No, please don't be scared, regular readers. Yes, I am (reasonably) using proper capital letters and so forth, look you see. I figured best to do so, for if "links" or hits or whatever wonderful things the internet can do to help someone, let me write (as close as I can get to) properly for a change. Certainly not, no, this is a trend which shall not extend beyond this. 

So, a little while ago (couple of weeks, give or take), I had that reasonably rare thing of a week at home. Yes, still in lodgings in place of exile, but still, it was not a week on the road for verk. The purpose of that week "off" was, once again, to see a concert. Which, but of course (once again) got cancelled at quite short notice. Oh, bother. My week for live music was not to be bereft of such, though, for reasonably close it was so that Marie Marx was doing a gig, playing live or putting on a performance, however you kids refer to it. I mean, no, I don't know, once upon a time records simply got released, now they are "dropped" apparently. 

For purposes of clarification, Marie Marx is a singer songwriter who(m) I really, really like. Up to now she's done two albums, This Is The Thing (here) and Universe (here), both of which were brilliant. It has been great to see the latter get some attention, for I believe a few radio stations have picked up some of the songs, adding them to their playlists.

As far as I am aware Marie Marx is a fairly regular gig player. Chance, circumstances and what have you have just meant that I've not been able to get to one of the shows before, but here we are now. By the way, what an excellent venue, too. It's called, as you can tell in the above pic, NEVolume, and is clearly run more for the passion of a great place than simply profit. Here's the link, and I cannot recommend or endorse the place enough. Sure, I don't have that much club or venue experience these days, but then perhaps I would if there were more places like this one. 

To be honest, it was kind of (sort of) a last minute decision to go. I was rather tired out and particularly drained, what with it being one of those celebrated "hottest weeks in history" weeks. And then I went no, let me drag myself up, going all "yolo" on it, saying rather go and regret in a worst case than not go and simply wonder. Besides, in exile I had little else to do, and figured it would be all over and done by my usual bedtime. Not quite so on that last one. 

Off I went, then, paying for a ticket on the door (which cost more) rather than buying in advance on the internet, which kind of threw the staff a little. Not quite packed but a fairly reasonable crowd gathered, and we were treated to not one, not three, but two (2) support acts. The first did quite a bit of shouting with swear words, which I wasn't expecting, and then the next was a really good straightforward rock guitar player. 

Just a touch of video for you above, then. Actually, I felt a little awkward taking it, and the couple of pictures. The venue, the gig, all felt somewhat intimate (or similar), and recording had a sense of grand intrusion. But, of course, I went ahead and did so. Ultimately the decision was let me grab a few seconds, and then if that is enough to persuade someone or other to check out this excellent music, well that's worth any irrational discomfort I felt. 

Going back slightly, then, that idea (or notion) I had of it being an evening where I would probably be back home for bedtime, Well, no. Not that anyone would have much interest in this, but normally I would seek to be in bed around 10pm. Yes, go ahead and add your comments on how I need beauty sleep, etc. All probably true. That all went out the window with two lengthy support sets, then, with Marie only taking to stage ever so slightly south of 10pm. Oh. 

Quite the set too, with some 17 (seventeen) songs played over the course of somewhere between seventy to eighty minutes. A rather loose set list too, with her swapping and changing when people in the audience asked for a specific song. Lots of lovely interaction, and certainly it's not that Ms Marx is at all shy in front of the crowd. 

Most impressive was that Marie's singing was as note perfect live as it is on the CDs I do indeed play from time to time. What a wonderful, wonderful voice she really has. Add that to the songs she writes and wow, my only surprise it is only a few dozen radio stations which have picked up on her songs. It is so that I am pretty much in awe of anyone with not only talent, but the belief and confidence to go and put that talent out in the world, where an audience is all to keen to be ferocious than welcoming. My feeling is that she's one of those performers capable of winning over any, if not every, crowd. 

Plus points for the bass player. True, the whole band was great (yet at times it seemed the drummer, like me, was surprised at the late night), but the gent on bass caught my attention. For a start his bass guitar was one of a nature that I had not seen before, and it was awesome. Other than that, he appeared to have styled himself somewhat on John McVie. Possibly a "left field" choice in this day and age, but my what an excellent one. 

One more link for you then, the official facebook page for Marie Marx. Needless to say I encourage all to visit, give a "like" and what have you. Should you be in the area and she's playing a gig, trust me there are many, many worse ways to spend an evening, with only a few better that I could think of. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

horny at the trolley stand

hi

well, that title pretty much describes it all. except, of course, to clarify that it was not me (moi) who could be described as being in that state, look you see. so, you have enough clues as to what this may pertain to, so proceed with your own caution sense in place. 

i was making use of some supermarket or other, somewhere down in the south of England (i cannot remember where, exactly), when i noted (or observed) a peculiar addition to the trolleys (trollies, here we go again, what is the right plural) outside. 

yes, that is pretty much (exactly) what you think it is, on the ground by the trolley collection point. note the deft way i avoided the plural argument there. also, it is what you think it is, assuming you are thinking that it is a discarded wrapper from a well known brand of prophylactic maker (rubber johnnies). sometimes, i yield, it can be quite tricky to work out specifics when presented in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode. 

quite a few questions are prompted by this particular sighting. most of them revolve around why, with some being for what reason, and maybe one or two of how. no, i am not going to ask them here, but feel free to ask them yourself, in a quiet moment. 

presumably the contents (ahem) of the discarded packet were not used right there and then, or then and there, but with what i have seen of the world let us rule nothing out. it is possible a gent, or lady, happened to have this wrapper in their pocket, or purse, or bag, and it sort of slipped out as they either retrieved a £1 coin to get a trolley, or pocketed the same coin after returning it. litter happens.

no, i don't believe there is (really) all that much else i can say on this one. i do strive to try and keep this blog if not "family friendly" then at the very least suitable for all. anything else i could consider thinking of writing here would probably stray a bit too close to the edge of the line of such. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lost in a maze of my own making

who is and who isn't

in truth i am not particularly of a mind to commemorate this one anniversary. even if it is only momentary that i hold such a doubt, look you see. but, then again, it would provoke (if not prompt) questions which i would not be inclined to answer if i did not in some way mark the tenth (10th) anniversary of seeing The Stone Roses at Heaton Park. so, here we are. 

little effort has been put into this post, with me rather just borrowing someone's video from the day that day off of you tube (thank you) and adding it here. they were, it seems stood over on the other side of the most impressive crowd of which we were honoured to be a part. 

oh yes, certainly, i did that thing i do, which is on my (lengthy) travels today played purely The Stone Roses on my drive. for clarity, the eponymous debut album, Turns Into Stone and (ahem) Second Coming got played in full. certainly it is decidedly not so that i have fallen out of love with the band or the vibes, it's just, well, things have changed. 

rather than try and conjure up any distant memories of the gig, let me be somewhat lazy and say to those interested click here or even here for some words written at the time, or not long after. perhaps it's simply time to let things go, i should be safe forever in your arms. 

so far as anyone can work out, no, another (or yet another) reformation of The Stone Roses is not going to happen. the most recent split, or parting of the ways, was shrouded in mystery, and it appears 75% of the band have opted to distance themselves from the 25% currently sharing theories about the new plague, vaccinations, etc. all has a shelf life, everything reaches a point of no return. 

but, you know, if Mani wanted to play bass with someone else, well it would be class to see him again. 

who is and who isn't, who is and who isn't