Bean

Well?

Went to TV on the Radio’s gig at Shepherd’s Bush last night. Truly phenomenal show, although I heard quite a few people complaining about the sound quality afterwards. It must have been a problem that only affected the upper levels, because it sounded great down in the stalls. Here are some lovely photos:

There’s a nice acoustic version of the fantastic ‘Young Liars’ along with some other nice rarities over at the the awesome Aquarium Drunkard…

…and here is a super exclusive shakey cam video of set closer ‘Satellite’ – watch how I seamlessly navigate the bobbing heads in front of me:

Old article that originally appeared about a year ago in my old student newspaper. It’s about Madeline McCann, but it sums up my feelings about most moral outrages, especially ones involving kids.

Have you heard the one about Madeleine McCann? Chances are you probably have. Whether it was via text message, e-mail, or a conspiratorial whisper from a friend in the pub, there’s a strong likelihood that over the last few months you’ve heard a distinctly off-colour joke about Britain’s most famous missing person. You may even have laughed at it. If you did, congratulations – you got a chuckle out of child abduction. You are now officially a monster.

Or are you? Do you genuinely find the kidnap and possible murder of a four-year-old girl inherently hilarious? Or is it possible that you feel so suffocated by the blanket media hysteria surrounding Maddy and her parents that a silly joke, even if it is tasteless and unfunny, is a welcome release from the relentless, unwavering empathy that you are supposed to display as an upstanding member of the community? If it’s the latter, then you’re probably OK. But whatever you do, don’t tell anyone.

Don’t be like comedian Dave Longley, who last week achieved some kind of bad taste comedic nirvana by cracking a joke that referenced both Madeleine and 11-year-old gang victim Rhys Jones whilst performing a gig in Rhys’s home town of Liverpool. To the surprise of no one, the throwaway gag brought the show to a halt. Longley was booed off stage and was later forced to cancel his remaining gigs in the city. The chairman of Everton FC has asked for Longley never to perform in Liverpool again.

Here, paraphrased, is the offending joke: don’t you think that after Madeleine and Rhys Jones, parents would have figured out not to dress their kids in Everton shirts? Implications of bad taste aside, as a joke it just doesn’t work: it isn’t funny, and deciding to tell it onstage in a city not exactly renowned for its emotional detachment was undoubtedly a catastrophic misjudgement. But does it really justify the torches-and-pitchforks treatment? Do people really think Longley found the abduction of one child and the death of another funny? Was it not clearly just a slightly desperate attempt by a comedian to shock and therefore entertain his audience?

It seems that even in the age where comedy appears to have no boundaries of taste (even next week’s supposed chick flick rom-com The Heartbreak Kid features an extended discussion on ‘queefing’ – www.urbandictionary.com), there are some things that you are forbidden to laugh about. Surely there can be nothing about the McCann case that is a justifiable target for ridicule? Well, what about the Daily Mail’s desperate clamouring to put something, anything about Madeleine on the front page every single day of the week. Now, the headlines just appear to be the editor having a conversation with himself – Mon: IS Madeleine IN MORROCCO? Tues: Madeleine IS NOT IN MORROCCO Wed: DID KATE CALL FOR HELP? Thurs: POLICE SAY THAT KATE CALLED FOR HELP Fri: YEAH, BUT CAN YOU REALLY TRUST THE POLICE? and so on.

The Daily Mail readership laps up these nuggets of information because they are completely embroiled in the Madeleine story – they care. These are the people who put up Madeleine posters in every library, who create ‘Find Madeleine!’ Facebook groups, and inundate police stations constantly with news of possible sightings. They do this because they care.

Making a joke about the Madeleine furore or even just making it clear that you find the media circus distasteful infuriates these people because it shows that you don’t care and it confuses them. It displays an insouciant apathy towards the story that they are unable to understand, as it should be obvious even to the most conservative of critics that behaving passively does not mean that you are in favour of child abduction.

So why as a nation have we become so hysterically concerned with all things Madeleine? It would be cynical to suggest that the public have come to regard the story as just another soap opera, with its myriad twists and turns and varied cast of characters. Cynical maybe, but no one can deny these elements are exacerbated by the popular media. And, for all their empathy and caring, it is hard to picture a Madeleine-obsessed Daily Mail reader going on a march to support the Buddhist monks and the people of Burma – a situation with massive social, economic and political implications that is going on right now, with literally thousands of innocent lives in the balance. Unfortunately the political complexities of the crisis mean it cannot be easily resolved and more importantly, it can’t be distilled into something as emotionally affecting as a pretty, sad-faced little girl on a poster, and as such it will never usurp Madeleine in our media consciousness.

That doesn’t mean that you should feel compelled to join in the circus, however. If you take a step back and put things into perspective, it’s unlikely that anyone will brand you as heartless or unfeeling. Which is not to say you should go around antagonising people who have been affected by the story: if you start telling a bunch of Madeleine jokes at a party people will rightly think that you’re a bit of a dick. But no matter what the Daily Mail or Sky News tells you, there is no shame in being apathetic towards a situation that you have no emotional connection to or any influence over. It’s time to let Madeleine and the McCanns go.

But keep an eye out, obviously. Apparently she might be in Belgium.

The nominees for the Inaugural BNP Awards have finally been put up online: read on below for an exclusive preview of this year’s winners!

THE MEL GIBSON AWARD FOR BEST HOLLYWOOD RACIST

Won: Mrs Sharon Stone.

Runner up: Mr Roger Moore

THE NEVILLE NEVILLE AWARD FOR MOST UNIMAGINATIVE PARENTS

Won: Mr Paul Paul

THE LITTLE BLACK SAMBO AWARD FOR BEST POTENTIAL CHILDREN’S BOOK CHARACTER

Winner: A straight tie between Mrs Winnifred Pickles, Mrs Penny Peachey, Mr Fred C Pretty and Mr Peter Pleasants

THE KU KLUX KLAN AWARD FOR BEST ALLITERATION

Winner: Mrs Shirley Shatwell (also a strong contender in the innuendo category)

THE SARAH PALIN AWARD FOR BEST EMAIL

Winner: scrotaljakhammer666@blahblahblah…

Runner up: Local parish councilor Tom Richardson’s Tom_is_richardson@etcetc… Best screamed a la 300
…TOM…IS…RICHARDSON!!!!

THE DAILY MAIL AWARD FOR MOST SPECTACULAR MISSING OF POINT

Winner: shared between Mr Steve Szczpanek, Mr Szwarc Taglione and Mr Stanislav Tenkovskiy

BEST REASON FOR NON-RENEWAL OF MEMBERSHIP

Winner: Mr Anthony Rogers – “Jehova (sic) God only real hope for mankind”

THE WOLF CREEK AWARD FOR MOST SUSPICIOUSLY FOREBODING OFFER OF HELP

Winner: Mrs Anita Rudin – “Has large barn available for use”

THE TIMMY MALLET AWARD FOR MOST APROPOS SURNAME

Winner: One of the many Savages – any relationship to this one, perhaps?

THE DREW PEACOCK AND RICHARD HEAD MEMORIAL AWARD FOR SERVICES TO INNUENDO

Winner: Mr Richard Shunter

Very close runner up: Mr Richard Skill

THE ‘AWW HELL NAW’ AWARD

Winner: Shared between all three Mr William Smiths

THE ‘LOOKS GOOD BY COMPARISON TO FAMILY MEMBERS’ AWARD

Winner: Mr Paul Ross

This article originally appeared on Flisolo.com as part of my column The Shirk. You can find the original piece here

Watching football on the television is a curiously soulless experience – two hours of ‘action’ that normally yield at most 15 minutes of genuine excitement, no choice but to watch the game unfold through the weary eyes of an equally dispassionate director and with the excitable roars of the stadium mixed way down below the voices of a couple of smug, patronising twats with the total vocabulary of a set of novelty fridge magnets.

There is one good thing that has come out of the massive increase in televised sport, however, as a benevolent (i.e. gloating) Spurs fan brought to my attention.

For those of you who have yet to indulge in the curious delights of Fanzone, it’s an interactive feature on Sky Sports football coverage where on selected games you can turn off the standard commentary and replace it with that of two fans of the respective teams, accompanied by a picture in picture view where you can see the fans react in real time.

It sounds gimmicky, and that’s exactly what I wrote it off as when I first became aware of it. After a bit of ‘Tubing, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably a better distillation of the appeal of football than an actual game of football.

The on-pitch action during the recent Arsenal vs Spurs match had it all – a battle between two fierce local rivals, ridiculous goals, terrible mistakes, the redemption of returning heroes and the triumph of new messiahs. As good as the match was, however, I can’t help but feel it pales in comparison to the accompanying Fanzone, which clearly demonstrates why to be fair, when all’s said and done, at the end of the day, the fact of the matter is, all football commentators are utterly shit.

Whereas your Motsons and Tyldesleys wear their objectivity and lack of partisanship as a badge of pride, simper on in earnest about ‘sportsmanship’ and ‘fair play’ and chastise players such as Wayne Rooney and Willian Gallas for displaying any form of recognisable human emotion, this kind of attitude is completely inappropriate for a game that owes its enduring popularity entirely to the irrational, borderline psychotic passion of its most fervent supporters. Repeatedly espousing the same thirty platitudes in a rigid monotone for 90 minutes is not a fair representation of The Beautiful Game.

Motty’s reply to Tottenham’s incredible equaliser in the 90th minute was little more than an incredulous chuckle and a borderline casual “Well I never!”. Compare this measured, professional response to that of portly Spurs Fanzone commentator Jamie Gascgoigne, who reacted by immediately stripping to the waist, letting out a minute long primal scream, bending his Arsenal cohort over the commentary desk, and vigorously dry humping his arse.

And therein lies the strange beauty of Fanzone: there is nothing that sums up the appeal of sport more succinctly than the image of one man completely insane with elation extravagantly lording it over the slumped, dejected figure of a broken loser. There are some great examples of this to choose from online, mostly from the big rivalries such as Man U-Liverpool, Tottenham-Chelsea, and Chelsea – Man Utd.

As an aside, something that also becomes clear after a few viewings is the thick, throbbing vein of homo-eroticism that is ever present in Fanzone – as well as the aforementioned Spurs-Arsenal victory bumming, this clip demonstrates an uncomfortable episode during a bout of wrestling between a Man Utd and a Bolton fan after a goal at Old Trafford. Homophobic overreaction, genuine proposition or a canny ruse designed to counteract the traditional celebratory humiliation? You decide.

You don’t have to like football to appreciate the raw tragi-comedy presented in these clips, but it’s a fascinating microcosm of the key elements of the game and sport in general – it’s all at once honourable, illogical, poignant, hilarious, and a little bit gay. And if the sight of one 20 stone man screaming “IT’S PANTOMIME SEASON!” triumphantly in the face of another 20 stone man doesn’t tickle you, then to be fair, at the end of the day, when all the dust has settled, you’re probably already dead. Or a football commentator.

This week – Jimmy Nail’s ‘Big River’

Released: 1995

Label: East West

In their own words:

Jimmy Nail – “Ah was gannin down the toon the neet when ah has a deek at this reet big bastard ahf a river, and ah says to meself, ‘ah wonder if any fooker’s written any tunes about that big coont.’ Turns out there’s been plenty like, but as says to mahself ‘Jimmy, were any ah they coonts in Auf Wiedersehen Pet? Dooz any aa they coonts get eh fucken Christmas caird fae that fat coont Timothy Spall? Ah fucking reckon not. So ah popped on ma crocodile clogs and kicked fuck oot teh pop charts. Haway the Nail!”

Sample lyric:

Since you’ve been gone, I’ve cried a river for you
but I’m just wastin’ time, and wastin’ water, too
I’m hanging out these nights, in these twilight worlds
with all the late-night news, and the weather-girls
no-one here but me, so I sit and cheer,
watchin’ sports t.v., sipping luke-warm beer
I can take the pain, I can stand the rain
but what I cannot bear, is that bum givin’ you his name

Jimmy Nail, What Kind of Man Am I?

Download:

What Kind Of Man Am I?, Big River, Love, I Wonder (Will I Ever Love Again?)

If you like Jimmy Nail, you’ll like:

Bad music, ITV prime time dramas, Tony Adams

This, along with the next post, originally featured in a pilot issue of a stupid paper I was going to write called The Rub, back in August 07. It ended up not really going anywhere, but here are some bits from it for your reading pleasure. I know a Jamie T parody isn’t exactly culturally relevant at the moment, but hey: fuck you. Ever wonder why you haven’t heard from Jamie T for a while? It’s because he’s been FEELING THE BURN EVER SINCE.

We’ve managed to obtain the full lyric sheet to the mockney janglemeister’s latest juvenile shitfest. ‘My Mate Darryl’ is released on September 5th and the video is already clogging up inboxes around the world. The controversial promo clip features a sustained single take of Bob Hoskins, crying, naked and alone, masturbating to a climax in a cold prison cell.

MY MATE DARRYL

VERSE 1: (rapped)
My mate Darryl’s a bona fide scumbag
When he goes on holiday he wears a green bumbag
I said ‘Darryl, you don’t half look dumb sometimes’,
And he said ‘Nah mate, trust’.
That’s a pointless story with a pointless end
I won’t pretend it’s anything but an ex-cuh-yoose;
To loosely rhyme ‘bumbag’ with ‘scumbag’
I think it turned out fine
When it was my birthday last Jan-yoo-ary
Mary bought me a rhyming dic-shon-ary
At first I was wary it was very scary
But soon I was tinkering like Claudio Ranieri
I know that I make it look easy, believe me, it ain’t
I am an artist and words are my paint
Actual songs are oh-so-quaint
This is the noughties mate.

CHORUS (sung)
Strap on my guitar and sing you a song
Sing a ling a song-a-long all day long
And even if my voice just seems plain wrong
You’ll buy the album anyway
Dontcha know it’s a tra-jed-ee
It’s easier to rap than write a meh-lo-dy
So here’s some more half arsed balladry
Get the red carpet rolled out

VERSE 2 (rapped)
When I went to school boy, life was tough
I went and poured Pimms on a prefect once
I used the whole pitcher cos he said his dad was richer
And I know that ain’t true
I toddled off to London after school (LAAAHN-DAHN!)
People were mean and their comments were cruel
I needed credibility, I racked my brains
And then I started singing like Michael Caine
It was obvious that I was taking the piss
But no one cottoned on, didn’t spot anything amiss
So my accent I continued to conceal
Two months later got a record deal

CHORUS

PONCEY POETRY BRIDGE (spoken by John Betjeman):
There once was a slut from Peru
Who filled her vagina with glue
She said with a grin
If you’ll pay to get in
You’ll pay to get out again too.

VERSE 3 (rapped)
On my MySpace now I’ve got ten thousand mates
It’s frequented more often than Lily’s or Kate’s
Not to mention that the number of reported rapes
In town are down, though I won’t take credit
Forget it, but rather convenient
Don’t you think, just as my album sales
In Wales have outsold U2’s and Jimmy Nail’s
My music’s real like solid steel
Merging of genres has widespread appeal
Cockney slang twinned with a trenchtown skank
Even though my tunes are a pile of Barclays Bank™

CHORUS x 15

Hello everybuddy

Welcome to my new blog. Gosh, isn’t this exciting?

Well…no. It’s going to be exactly the same format as every other blog you’ve ever seen, with a mix of hilarious funny baby links and insightful posts with titles like “Is it just me, or are reality shows SHIT!?” This is because my life isn’t particularly interesting at the moment, as this handy pie chart should helpfully demonstrate:

Despite appearances however I am deceptively busy, with a number of things lodged in my pipeline that are actually fairly interesting. I’m the assistant editor of a national student magazine and the accompanying website – at the moment this is personally my favourite bit of work that I do because crucially, at the end of every month I am ostensibly rewarded for my services with a modest but timely deposit of monies.

I’m also working on putting together a podcast for the website in the next couple of months, I’m always ‘finishing off’ a variety of short stories/comic scripts/screenplays, and I’ve currently got a television series and a potential feature film in the very early stages of development with an actual producer who has made a film and won awards and everything.

So hopefully I will have some decent stuff to put up here. To begin with, it’ll be mostly reprinting stuff that I’ve written elsewhere, along with some older stuff that I might put up here if I think that it’s good enough. I’ll also post the usual mp3s and junk as well when the mood takes me.

Hope you enjoy this crap anyway

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