Hey Scenesters!

Hey, you groovy cats, I'm going to be without decent internet access for three - yes, count 'em - three weeks! So I'll be quiet for a bit, which will no doubt come as a relief to you all. Behave yourselves while I'm gone and have a bang on this because I love power pop, Charlotte Hatherley and cheerleaders. Mind how you go:

I've lost that loving feeling

I don't want to keep quacking on about Rush, it's very boring for you and even I'm starting to get fed up of it. Thing is that last night's Rush show might have been my last. I don't know what it was but it was all just a bit 'meh'. 60% of it was good, 40% of it was merely okay. Nothing was particularly excellent, they just seemed to be going through the motions. The tour's called Time Machine; as they've no new LP to promote at the moment it's a 'greatest hits' package but with the 1981 classic album Moving Pictures played in its entirety. That bit was great, as it was proper 'old' but there was too much stuff from the blandathon mid-80s and early-90s albums.

The band themselves even looked like they were going through the motions. The drum solo, a highlight for many Rush fans, was lacklustre. They tried to do comedy at the beginning of both halves of the show by showing overlong films they'd made trying to be funny. Neither film worked particularly well. And we were kept back for another ten minutes at the end while another 'funny' film was shown featuring two blokes from a film called I Love You, Man (no I've not seen it either). I watched this film in the belief that Rush were going to come back on and blow us a way with a rip-roaring run through of Anthem or The Trees, but when it finished the houselights came up and I was just left a bit miffed that I'd missed out on beating-the-rush-to-the-car-park time.
Somebody also needs to have a word with Geddy Lee about his vocals - he strains, and I mean really strains - to hit top notes these days. It was painful to hear, especially during 2112. Perhaps he ought to think about dropping down an octave or two.
I was just left a bit deflated after all the excitement, and that was the general consensus in the car afterwards. Hmmm... Still, I did have a bit of an 'Elbow moment' when I saw them walking out onto the stage, so it wasn't all bad.
Whether they'll come back to the UK remains to be seen, they're recording a new album due for release next year but I can't see them coming back in such a short space of time. And Neil Peart has hinted that this might be their last album. I think that might have been the last time I'll see them. Farewell to Kings.

Remember them this way, I suppose...

Groo!

I'm going to see Rush tomorrow night. Look what some idiot's written on the Facebook Events page for the gig:
"Carnt wait, my partner is cumming with me, No she aint a fan,lol. we goin at dinnertime monday make sure we r there intime, we onlt 1 1/2 away but ya never no with traffic, i always panic ) we stopping at the Hilton Hotel tha night too, we in block C row 2"


Thank God I'm in Block A, away from him. I thought Rush fans were supposed to be intelligent? Well, apart from me, that is.
I think it should have read like this:
"I can't wait! My partner's coming with me - she's not a fan! We're leaving home at lunchtime on Monday to make sure we're there in time; we only live ninety minutes away but you never know what the traffic's going to be like and I always panic. We're staying the night at the Hilton, where no doubt my partner will be 'cumming' with me. Ho ho! Our seats are on Block C Row 2, so if you're sitting there you're in for a treat!"
I understand his excitement but leaving at lunchtime? I live less that ninety minutes away and I'm not picking my party up until 16:30. By the way, it seems I'm being a personal taxi for this lift I'm giving them, they all want picking up from their homes. I'm just too bloody nice, that's my problem.

Oh, while I'm on - if you drive one of these...

...I hate you.

Mr Noseybonk

I love a bit of people watching, me. I was away over Easter and I spent most of my time just gawping at other people and listening in to their conversations (as I've already mentioned, I love just snippets of conversations). For a kick off on Sunday I found myself in Whitstable (quite nice although it smells fishy and I saw a bloke actually eating jellied eels) and I decided to go for a refreshing drink at an open air quayside cafe (the two guys running the joint are another blog post entirely, just put it this way, whatever they'd smoked the night before was clearly good shit). I was sitting there taking in the vista of fishing boats and a gravel works when I became aware of two women sitting at the next table. Candice was about thirty while Candice's Mate was about twenty one. Well Candice's Mate was very open about her love life. She used to go out with Steve, right, this Scotch bloke, but, Candice, there's was no way she could afford to get up to Glasgow every weekend. Besides, he was only meant to be a holiday shag, but you know, it all got out of hand. But Candice, there's absolutely no way she wants a bloke right now, yeah? She's just enjoying myself, Candice yeah? SHE DOESN'T WANT A BLOKE, CANDICE! I think the lady doth protest too much.
On the way home on Monday I stopped in Cambridge, lovely city, and decided to buy a sandwich for lunch and take it down to a park near the river. Well, what do you know, it was people watching heaven. Watching blokes try and steer punts to impress ladies is fantastic fun, culminating when one dickhead fell in. Mind you it serves him right for wearing a pink shirt and Kicker deck shoes with shorts. There was also the woman in her sixties who thought it was acceptable to wear jeggings, the American woman who didn't realise she'd ripped the back of her skirt, the kid who was like that one from Outnumbered who just had to find a dead duckling, the bloke barbecuing some stuff in little foil bags and a woman who was trying to fish her son's football out of the river with a borrowed punting pole while very nearly falling in herself.
The highlight for me though was watching a couple on the more secluded opposite bank. The guy had his hand on his ladyfriend's more intimate area and was clearly 'rubbing'. I think they thought they were being dead discrete with the way she'd positioned herself but let me tell you, I could see exactly what was going off. I tried to look away. Honest.

Royal tattoo

I was going to blog about the Royal wedding, but I feel so much antipathy towards it that I just can't be arsed. Last night I arranged a drum lesson for 11am next Friday, so I'll miss it even if I wanted to watch. I asked my drum tutor if he wanted to watch so  we could rearrange but he just shrugged his shoulders and said "Nah", like nearly everyone else I know. It's not even as though the day off's much good to me, I've had every Friday off since January.

So anyway, where do you stand on tattoos? Now I'm sure there are people reading this who have one, they're just not for me I'm afraid. I think that even if I did want one I'd decide a couple of days later that it looked rubbish and I'd want to get rid of it straight away. Not only that but I couldn't stand the pain, I;m not some kind of sadist. Besides, what would I have? A swallow on my hand? Geddy Lee on my calf? 'Modern Gutnish' on my arse cheeks? 'Fancy a brew' on my bicep? I ask because I went to Bridlington on Sunday (that's an experience, especially a shop that screamed "We've got the smelliest balls in Brid!" Although it has to be said that Brid is a bit nicer than the nearest seaside to here, Skegness) and I saw this couple with his 'n' hers tats. They were identical except his was bigger. They both had them on their backs, it was of two entwined winged sperm with the legend 'Two become one' in finest copperplate script underneath. Why would you do that? For a start I think their biology's a little bit out. I never did biology as an option but even I know that two entwined sperm do not a baby make. Besides, it just looked awful. I'm not calling into question the talent of the tattooist - far from it, he seemed very skilled in his art - it's just that I cannot imagine the thought process that went into designing that and having it applied to your skin. And sperm? Winged sperm? Really?

Do you think Kate and Wills will have wedding tattoos done? You know, like Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson tattooing their wedding rings on? I reckon a tattooed wedding band would look great on Kate's finger next to her dead mother-in-law's engagement ring.

Midnight at the lost and found

Have a look at the 'Lost and Found' section of that photograph. People who've been reading this garbage for an awfully long time will know how much my local paper gets on my wick. But every now and again there's something in it which makes me pull up short.
When I originally saw that ad I thought to myself "What a fantastic citizen that person is, they've found this photo and they've gone to all the trouble of putting an ad in the paper, at some considerable expense, to try and find the owner of it. And looking at that dialling code they must be from miles away, that's not a local dialling code that I know."
Then I looked again and I'm left with the impression that the ad has been put in by someone who's lost the photo. Is it really that valuable? And if they're such a fan of the Crafty Cockney then how come they can't spell his name correctly? And if they knew they'd lost it outside 99p Stores then why didn't they go back for it? Does this person prize this photo so much that they carry it around in an inside pocket, next to their heart, and have to keep pulling it put every few strides to make sure it's there? So as they walked along in the precinct they pulled it out at Wilkinson's and still had it. Pulled it out again at Julian Graves, still had it. Pulled it out at the travel agents, still had it. Pulled it out at Claire's Accessories, still had it. Pulled it out at 99p Stores, still had it. Pulled it out at Marks and Spencer's, SHIT WHERE'S IT GONE? IT MUST HAVE GONE WHEN I PULLED IT OUT AT 99P STORES!
To be honest, I can't really see a photo with Eric Bristow in it being all that valuable either. And if they loved it then why not keep it safe at home? I guess there are some things in life that just remain a mystery.

Whadda Guy

I know John Medd's already blogged about this but I can't let it go without mentioning it. The Boat That Guy Built really is turning into one of my favourite telly programmes. Ever. If you've not seen it it's about 'world famous' (so 'world famous', in fact, that I'd never previously heard of him) motorbike racer and HGV mechanic (!) Guy Martin doing up a narrowboat. But Guy can't just go to the chandlers and B&Q and do up his boat, no, he has to do everything from scratch. Like build a mini foundry to make a kettle, go to Wedgewood's in Stoke to make a mug, make his own baked beans, blend his own tea, learn how to make a steam pump to power the shower, render some animal fat to make soap and weave his own sheets. In fact the bloke's so down to Earth he was prepared to admit on camera that he thought cotton came from a sheet.

Guy and his mate Mark are just a couple of lovely blokes doing stuff. That's all it is. Not much happens but it's just nice to see two blokes happy in each other's company dicking about. I like to see nice people doing nice things. In fact I did some research on Guy just to find out a bit more about him. Turns out he's got a film coming out. In 3D an'all, if you please. It's about his motorbike racing. Apparently in the world of road racing he's quite big news. Road racing's like the Isle of Man TT type stuff, no gravel traps or tyre walls. It's brick walls, manhole covers and telegraph poles that these fellas have to contend with. There's a lovely bit on the end of the trailer (see below) where Guy says "Some lads love going to the pub, some lads love shaggin'. I don't mind it but different people are into different things. I like doing this" Which I find incredibly refreshing. In fact we could tell how relaxed Guy is towards sex when a lady signwriter did some work on his boat on this week's TBTGB and it was clear she fancied him. I'm, not an expert in lady signals but I'm sure the fact that she kept asking if they could 'go below and make a cup of tea' wasn't particularly a request about hot beverages. Guy wasn't really listening though, he only had eyes for the roses he was painting on to the boat. I was screaming at the telly "Guy! She's bloody choking for it!" Bless him. Anyway, it's the last one next week and some of it was filmed in Newark. Hurrah! According to this week's Newark Advertiser, "Guy enjoyed filming in Newark and he says he 'had a good laugh'" Which is what it's all about really, isn't it? Good old Guy!
Oh, and he sounds like me when he talks.

Anyway, something else I've been enjoying just recently is Friday Night Dinner. It's one of the rare comedies these days that actually makes me, ugh, 'LOL'. It's got some famous people in it. You know, her off of Black Books, the lad off of The Inbetweeners and Jim Rosenthal's kid. It's incredibly well observed about family life. It revolves around a Jewish family meeting on a Friday night for dinner. We used to do the same when Mum and Dad were alive on a Saturday afternoon ('Getting your bottle filled' is how my brother-in-law used to describe it. Go figure). And it's the same set-up, an aloof dad whose always pottering and a mum who finds him exasperating but is still mad about him at the same time.

It also reminds me of the relationship I had with my sister. You may have grown up but when you go back to your parents house you regress back to childhood. I thought we were the only ones who carried on sitting on each other, tipping salt into each others drinks, eating Spiller's Shapes dog biscuits, trying to trip each other up and do a special thing whenever the other came to sit next to us (and I'm not going to tell you what that is because you'll talk about me) when we were in our twenties and thirties

It's the last one of them this week too, but the good news is that it's been recommissioned. Hurrah! Again!