you can't put your arms around a memory

But the past is always with us, jesus said. Or was that the poor. No, the poor are us. Or me.
Latest bank statement should have had an X-certificate. Wish I knew where it all went. We seem to be a grand a month down each month. Big money.

Anyway, the British comic book heroes are being revived by Alan Moore and his daughter (well mainly her actually), and I can't quite explain (or remember) why this image just does it for me. This is the cover of Albion #1.

Robot Archie. I will never forget you, even though I can't actually remember.

Now with added introspection

Well, what do you expect - it is a blog.
So another day one - off we go.

The photo is a desert version of The Dig.
Reference is William Gibson's terrific novel Pattern Recognition.

less than zero

Back to square one. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life etc.

Talking of Art Brut, as we weren't here is the link to their download page which cunningly only has versions of their songs by their franchisees. You mean other bands aren't franchises? How very 1970's


http://artbrut.nikkidido.com/mp3.html

PS come on the mighty Reds vs the might of Lithuania. Sorry, still to early.

moblog failure

So there I was being hip and trendy and up to date, and not at a fat sad loser in his forties, typing in a blog entry in Starbucks. Admittedly in Romford, which is not exactly the centre of the universe, but is at least sort of London, which other people than me think is rather cool. And finishing it with a reference to actually hip and trendy band Art Brut, the bloody wifi connection cut out on me demanding more money with menaces.
Ho hum. I am a fat loser. I mean fat-loser...

Art Brut = Top of the Pops
Art Brut = Top of the Pops

Please do not - groundhog day

So, will they be getting ready to dance in the streets of Total Network Solutions tonight? After all, 3-nil down is all to play for, as we proved in Turkey.
Hopefully not.

Scaryduck has an ongoing strand about his legal battles with Usless Workshy Cunshie of a Builder (or UWCS for short, or possibly his name if he is Polish). Think we might have to do one about some of business partners, who should rejoice in the abbreviation UWCBP. I mean, I'm pretty flexible about deadlines myself (Douglas Adams: "I love deadlines. I love the whoosing noise as they go by") but really starting a three month project on a Monday when it has to be in on the Wednesday is pushing it.

Here's Banksy...

another day 3

So the mighty Reds beat Leverkusen, and Tiger Woods beat Colin Montgomery. And still all before the Ashes even start. Feels odd.

The breadcrumbs had a new toy - a home bouncy castle. Fun, but no more fun than jumping on an air mattress, and of course, less fun than the box it came in.

On a positive note for other blogs, I have taught them to look for the Scaryduck in their bedtime book version of the Ugly Duckling. Other "improvements" include Snow White being cured by a passing handsome Prince Doctor - more in keeping with Mrs Breadwinner's cultural values.

Back to the beginning Day 1 again

Blessings be bestowed on Saint Stephen of Anfield for smiting the mighty TNS 3-0. And all this before the Ashes series even starts. Sorry, but there is something wrong about that.
Luckily herself was absent so there will be no tutting unless I forget not to talk about it.

Meanwhile, classics of addiction - the voices telling you one won't hurt, then that when you have had one you might as well have another. One is too many, all in the world not enough.

Day 6 - The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

So, today was going to be facetious comments about listening to Heather Small singing "what have you done today" for 7 years.

Instead, London and G8 were visited by Al Queda.
Some 30 dead and counted. Hundreds wounded including amputations.
And it won't make a blind bit of difference.
The pointlessness of it is incredible. Particularly as it is so un-Islamic (assuming that is the source of this, and not the IRA or anti-capitalists).

Watching protestors up in Scotland getting carried away with the thrill of violence against property and people, was like seeing the pigs turning into the farmers at the end of Animal Farm - becoming the brutes they were protesting against.

Scotland suffered brutal repression for centuries under English rule, as did Ireland. Ireland forced a civil war but were not able to claim the whole island and have spent 80 years fighting a civil war/rebellion/terrorism campaign that has left them more directly controlled by England than Scotland - which gently siddled off with its own parliament and no backward glances.

Violence begats violence, and violence against civilians does not change regimes.

Meanwhile the focus is back on the war on terror not making life better for millions of Africans, or billions of people who might be effected by global warming.

Pointless.

Day 5 - Victory in Europe

Well, over Paris 2012 anyway. God, I wouldn't want to be Chirac's cat at the moment.
Meanwhile, the blessed Tony can do no wrong. Of course he wasn't elected Pope, but that's the only thing that's not gone his way recently.

And St. Stephen has decided to stay. At least for today.

NMP
KIS
RPT
Struggling...

day 4

Did you know they've found a new type of dolphin? How do they tell them apart?

Anyway, Stevie G. Doesn't want to stay. Don't let us hold you back son. If you gotta go, go now. Just try to balance out losing the respect and gratitude of Liverpool with the Russian riches. How long before they shout Judas?

Thanks and so long for all the fish. Honestly. Thanks.

PS if you see Michael, don't forget to ask how the winning trophies thing is going at Real Madrid. And what it is like to be on the bench. And not being Captain.

But thanks. We couldn't have done it without you. We just thought you would always be with us.

Leave them all behind...

What Creaton Band are you?





You Are... Ride.

Oh yes oh yes oh yes

Campioni, campioni!

For the first time in 21 years the mighty reds are champions of Europe. Gulp!.
And it was bloody Alavez all over again. More drama than you could shake a stick at.

In the UEFA cup final, myself and herself were in a far flung foreign sports bar. She was chatting to an elderly Indian gentleman who supported Crystal Palace (go figure, as our colonial cousins say). I was repeatedly falling to my knees and wailing. Not in the call to prayer, but as we seemed to find endless ways to avoid winning until the glorious foot of McAllister in the last minute of extra time.

For Man U vs Bayern we were in a wine bar in posh South Manchester, home to Roy Keane and the Neville Brothers (and my celebrity stalker Bryan Robson). As events unfolded the watching scum (and me a temporary one) got progressively more downbeat. Until Sheringham scored. The place went wild. And then just about calmed down again to watch the reply. Except it wasn't a replay it was Soljskaer. Cue bedlam.

This time, I was East of the Pennines watching in the pub across the road. Gulping Stella next to a wise guy pointing out how rubbish Harry Kewell was. Not that I needed to be told. Leeds fans. At half time I skulked out to nurse my grief and shame at home. One turkey sandwich later we start again, and then it happens. We started to dream.

The rest was just awful - and my heart attack is no doubt in the post - but it was obviously our night. Logic, physics and common sense were overruled by narritivium, which says the better story will happen and that million to one shots happen nine times out of ten (TM Terry Pratchett).

And there you have it. And we have it for keeps. And if only they kick Everton out to make way for us joy will be complete and unbounded.

Campioni, campioni...

15th April

Today is one of terrible anniversaries.
It is the date of the Hillsborough disaster during which 96 people lost their lives.
It is also the anniversay of the liberation of Belson. My father was one of the liberators, though he never spoke of it, apart from to say of Schindler's List that good as it was the people were wrong. The real inmates were far thinner than any modern actor could ever be.

Let's try to make sure neither ever happens again.

Here is a link to the BBC coverage of Belsen in 1945.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/4445811.stm

That entertainment

Merseyside derby, glorious play from the mighty reds, multiple injuries, no protection from the referee, missed chances, a sending off and victory to the rightous. Phew.

No if only we had a striker. Just the one would do.

So, Juve then...

Ah well. There's always next year.

Without Gerrard. Or Kewell. Or even Benitez. Or European footie of any kind.

Ho, hum...

you know you're getting old...

when you listen to a review of a new film (9 songs) which is about two people have (real) sex inbetween concert footage of bands, and you find yourself wondering if the songs were good...

I'll get my coat.

anybody know a good goalkeeper?

What were the odds that the Mighty Reds would be the only English team in the Champions League not to lose, but in fact to crush Bayer Leverkeusen? I make it a point to support British clubs in Europe (hard though that is much of the time), but a certain Schadenfreude has to be enjoyed this week. If only we had managed to keep it at 3-0. I dread the return matches, when no doubt we will pull improbable defeat from the jaws of certain victory. I remember the last time when the peerless Jari Litmanen tried to single handedly get us through, and M. Houllier sabotaged it with the crazy idea of taking off Didi Haman.

Must admit I am kind of hoping Barca manage to take Chelsea down a peg or two. And fervently hoping we achieve the minor miracle of winning the Carling cup on Sunday. I shall not be there, but instead in Edinburgh to watch Scotland vs Italy in the 6 Nations. God I thought footie tickets were expensive...

Fear and Lothing in West Yorkshire

"faster, faster, until the love of speed overcomes the fear of death"

Farewell Hunter S Thompson


Chalk up another suicide victim to the cult of Hemmingway. But HST was a better writer, or at least a funnier one. Which amounts to the same thing most of the time.

I support London 2012

Yes, I know that it is yet another thing in the endless sink hole that is the south of Britain.
And yes I know the benefits will probably not be as big as claimed (believe me, I really know).
And yes, the money could be spent on other things instead.
But be honest;
The money saved would not be spent on alleviating child poverty, more schools and hospitals, third world debt relief or any of the other things people always talk about as worthy causes.
It would probably go on;
cruise missiles
tax relief for the rich
More security guards to keep out the talented individuals trying to come to our country to build our schools, work in our hospitals, pay our taxes and keep our population from falling into a black hole (like it is in France, Italy and Spain) and therefore pay our pensions when we get older
And bloody ID cards so the government can imprison the rest of us whilst allowing terrorists (who are rich, dammit) to get very good, very expensive forgeries.

Go on, admit it, it would be fun. Might make us feel better if we do it right. And we might even win a few more medals - allowing even the Daily Mail to make heroes out of Black Lesbians!

And the clincher? It would piss the French off something rotten.

slow on the uptake

I've only just realised how big Joy Division have become, 20 years or more after their end.
It feels a bit strange to realise that the world has come round to my way of thinking, and recognises them as one of the great bands. I still think that nobody has heard of them, or ever wants to - despite New Order. It was bizarre to see them shortlisted as one of the bands of the 80s (or was it 70s) on Channel 5. My generations Velvet Underground I guess - no one heard them at the time, but everyone who did formed a band.

My band didn't sound anything like Joy Division...