NOTHING TO REPORT

So. What the fuck does one blog about when one has had a pleasant evening where not much happened? Write an opinion piece? Find something whinge-worthy? Crack a few tasteless jokes like wind in the office?

Nope.

Precisely like swimming in very refreshing water, one just gets in and let the momentum take you. It doesn't take much to get the bullshit flowing. Obviously. In my case.

So let's start. Last night I went to Commander Conker's house on the way home and was persuaded to stay for dinner by Rose Thorn. So I ate. Then I went home and watched a movie. Then I went to bed. Gripping stuff, eh? Speaking of gripping stuff...

Perhaps it was a good thing that I took it easy for a change, as I have been burning the candle at both ends of late (roughly the last 30 odd years) and am starting to feel it. AND we have to be ready for the annual Metal4Africa Winterfest on Saturday. Whoohooo!

I'm once again going, and looking forward to thoroughly enjoying being far too motherless to watch all the bands I went there specifically to watch. It's going to be tons of fun. Lots of metal, lots of booze, lots of women and lots of running around annoying people loudly.

Sunday may not be too pleasant.

Tonight promises to be even more event less than last night. I'll probably end up notching up some more Martha Stewart points. One of these days... One of these days... I may tot up enough to qualify for the free monogrammed apron.

Either that, or I may find myself at Erotickles, a mad art exhibition featuring works including painting, tattoo flash (mmmm that sounds interesting), festival photography, nature photography and even drawings. Oh, and Sailor Jerry Rum bar specials... Yum!

Nice tagline: Pornography is about dominance, erotica is about mutuality.

Because apparently, and I quote, "No one can tickle themselves". Um, you're doing it wrong. Trust me, if I could put "[my FB name] is in a relationship with [my FB name]" I would. Come to think of it, I haven't tried it yet. Guess what I'm doing for the next minute of my life...

Tomorrow I smoke!

I gave up 2 years ago, but will be enjoying a stogie with my mate, the very recent father of twins. His wife helped.

So, who is keen on donning a tutu and a tiara and running for a charity that will benefit our furry four legged friends? Be warned - it's in the pipe line... Watch this space.

NGDG: "You know when you mix all the colours in the paint box, you get that mangy-dead-cat-brown? When you mix all the martial arts, you get two bald sweaty men hugging each other on a mat."

Spread The Love. And The Lube.

ONE STEP BEYOND

I am in serious danger of fully completing my transmogrification into Martha Stewart. One of these days I'll be walking along in a mall minding my own business and plotting the demise of a gaggle of teenagers, when I'll find myself gazing wistfully into the window of a Biggie Best store and imagining how I'd arrange the cottage print scatter cushions on my black leather couch back home...

What I am referring to of course is the abrupt (and surprisingly successful) change I was forced to make after the "break up" from playing house-house with someone who did things like cook and a lot of other stuff around the house, to a situation where I am forced to fend for myself. This includes creating nutritious and delicious meals and keeping the abode just above "squatter shack" tidy.

Ok, it's a little ambitious to call the early attempts at culinary proficiency "nutritious". In my case it was more like "barely edible but enough to sustain a growing boy". I have however been taking on more and more ambitious meals, some even combining more than 2 or 3 ingredients. We've reached a point, I am thrilled to announce, where I made a full sweet n sour pork casserole all by myself last night and the only distress call I had to make to The Sister was to find out how many tablespoons 25ml was. You see, I don't have one of those little cuppy measury thingies. Great success! Which is a good thing, considering I'll be eating my wonderful creation (actually it's a recipe off the back of a soup packet) for a week...

In other news...

What the fuuuuuuuck! It truly is raining babies! Almost every couple that I know has either recently had children or has recently announced that they too are expecting. What is this? Is there a 2-for-the-price-of-1 sale on Huggies somewhere?

In a most terrifying development, my good friend, Crazy Rob, is now the latest to join this illustrious group of people. He is going to be a father. God help us all.

Oh and congrats you two! A Biggie Best baby-grow is in the post.

Seems I am missing the boat a little, what with all my going out and partying...

On a far more cheerful note, why is it that humanity loves to be seen to be a part of something, but when it is called upon to act in support of whatever, it slinks back into the comforting shadows of suburbia and pretends to be all of a sudden very concerned with the state of its lawn and makes muttering noises about getting out the mower?

South African Music scene...

Let's for one minute cut away the obvious hurdles. The shambolic state of broadcasters that couldn't deliver an accurate version of what's been aired if the government gave them another bail out package. The societies that are meant to look after their writers and members but prefer to spend their resources on "how to incorporate bullshit political and HR jargon into an equally bullshit excuse why things aren't getting done". Record companies that have sacrificed their integrity for so long trying to stem the flow away from buying physical product that they now can't afford to do anything other than plug their leaking ships by cashing on on worse and worse one hit wonders. Radio stations that pander to the lowest common (and I do mean common) denominator and playlist the biggest bunch of kak on heavy rotation. And last but not least. The public. Those wonderful people that put up with it all and buy crap because the TV tells them to.

Now that we have the annoying little things no one can do anything about out of the way, let me get to the point I was trying to make. Every so often someone or a group of people come along and genuinely attempt to make a difference, to change the apathetic face of local music, to commit to the betterment of it and to actually make a meaningful contribution. My question is this. Why then do these people have to struggle so to keep their noble efforts afloat, when a meagre contribution from partners in the industry would be so infinitely mutually beneficial?

I can of course not mention specifics, but there are those entities which strive to deliver a quality product or service and are forced to downscale their involvement due to lack of backing. Come on! Just one little ad in a mag. Or go to one more gig in a month. Or something. Anything!

I should probably leave it there...

NGDG: "Why do people act surprised? It's perfectly reasonable to kill game by hiring prostitutes. Unless your game is good enough to withstand that kind of stigma."

Spread The Love. Make Meatloaf. Or Show More Support For Local Music.

REVIEWS RESIST

As alluded to earlier, this weekend had for more to it than me making an arse of myself in a windswept tutu...

There was much debauchery at a 21st in Kommetjie on Saturday night. And I didn't even say "I'm too old for this shit" once! (In my best Danny Glover voice.)

What I am referring to is the truly musically memorable evening I experienced on Friday night. Fresh from her acclaimed participation at the recent Grahamstown National Arts Festival, I once again had the rare pleasure of watching Shannon Hope perform her collection of incredible songs. This pint-sized pixie with the voice of a goddess and a truly magical musical ability put on another stellar show at the little known Alma Cafe in Rosebank, Cape Town. She is a solo performer, playing the piano and singing her way through a stunning repertoire of material which is heartfelt, hurt, honest and, erm, full of hope...

Her songs soar as she manages to create crashing crescendos of serene power and sincere poise interwoven with moments of sublime subtlety and aching introspection. But it's not all solemn and serious, as she laces her set of beautifully written songs with moments of sly, quirky, even impish humour that complete and complement the entire poignant performance.

The audience sat literally in rapture and was enthralled throughout this virtuoso performance - as engaging, enigmatic and enjoyable as you're likely to see.

Catch her at her next show on the Cape Town leg of her national tour at the Octopus' Garden Restaurant & Wine Bar in Muizenberg this Friday.

Phew. Now that I have that off my chest, I also do a little writing for the wonderful online publication that is Voice Of Rock. Here is my latest album review.

NGDG: "I will, one day, have in my house, and cordoned off from the children, a fountain of wine. Oh yes."

Spread The Love. THIS IS MY 100TH POST ! ! ! And You HAVE To Take My Opining Above Seriously As I Am A Certified (Certifiable) Music Connoisseur!

GRATITUDE AND GRAVY

Wow! I know my previous post was all about how kak everything is and how absurdly abysmal humanity is, but I was truly awed and humbled on the weekend. The support that was shown by my friends and family for the run I did on Saturday was overwhelming. Thank you everyone that pitched up to cheer, jeer and laugh, everyone that sent their messages of support, all those who have already made such magnanimous and generous contributions, and especially my crew. Mega thanks to Az and James for riding marshall, my dad for accompanying me on the bike, my sister and Brother-In-Awe for the support van and "playlist of torture", Tarty for video taping the whole thing and especially my mate, BFF (Bruce Fucking Fordyce - hehehehe) for running alongside and encouraging me in the FUCKING headwind from hell and for the help with the training. My immense gratitude to you all.

I shall refrain from describing the suffering...

Actually it has been decided to turn this fiasco of flailing limbs into an annual event in support of animal welfare. So this is fair warning. Get into shape and be prepared to run/walk/crawl for 6km for a good cause. EVERYONE is invited to what is being dubbed the "Tutus 'n' Tiaras" run. Will keep you posted...

More news from the rest of the weekend later, but first...

...NGDG: "I will not abide the tyranny of Monday. Not while there is still beer, and Iron Maiden on DVD. Thanks to @Gordon Craig Smith for lending me Live After Death when we were 10. And to the kids who called it satanic trash, well, you're not here so it doesn't matter what I say to you. Choice words though. Choice."

Spread The Love. If You Haven't Already.

IT MAY BE IRREVERENT BUT IT'S NOT TOO IRRELEVENT...

Happy IRREVERENT FRIDAY everyone! Hope the weekend ahead is one filled with spectacular and special events and all sorts of wonderful doohdads.

Happy much?

Not really... I have been the unfortunate victim of my own curiosity and much like the dead cat, have now been witness to the ugly underbelly of a humanity that is as sick as it is sickening. Obvious culprits include that doos game warden that was bust for his involvement in poaching and the rhino horn trade. Personally I think we should apply a little "eye for an eye" to the fucker and see how he likes it. Then we go down through the various stages of "what the fuck were you thinking" until we reach the lower echelons of human scum, the ones that discard all vestige of accepted decorum and dignity in order to advance their own selfish agendas. And they're arrogant arseholes about it.

Haven't you heard? The right to act like an arrogant bastard is reserved solely for my Cuz and I. Because we're better than you. Well, he thinks he is...

Besides, in our case arrogance is merely misunderstood self confidence, no matter how ill advised.

And on that note, this is your last chance to play along in the whirlwind of wiry limbs coming barrelling down Marine Drive tomorrow - all for a good cause and, more importantly, for your entertainment. It's going to be a riot of pink tutus, tiaras, torturous motivational music, aching limbs and burning lungs - an extravaganza of pain not to be missed. Check out the full story here.

Let's see if we can accurately collate the 10 things I hate about YOU (MANATEE):

1. Resolute pursuit of instant gratification.


2. Astounding greed.


3. Limitless cruelty.


4. Shameful lack of remorse.


5. Obstinate stupidity - you will never see who is checking out your Facebook account - please stop clicking on those fucking links and exposing everyone to viruses.


6. Innate laziness which has resulted in the degeneration of the way we write and speak.


7. Insatiable appetite for rubbish entertainment - if we don't alter the demand, we'll never create a more substantial content in the supply.


8. The parasitic way we ruin our planet.


9. The way we accept all manner of evil simply because we're exposed to it long enough (government, price collusion, reality tv, 3 Talk with Noeleen, Idols, brussell sprouts, the list is endless)


10. People who rant from virtual soapboxes on the intrawebs because they're mildly anonymous.
    

*Disclaimer: I am not a hippy. I wash and pay taxes.

Okay, that was mildly cathartic, if not entirely original. Speaking of wonderful and original, I give you Neal Goldwyer's Daily Gem: "In the 90s, In Grozny, a stadium was built to commemorate the end of hostilities and the regeneration of Chechnya's capital. Years later at a celebrity game, when the smoke cleared, & with it most of the cabinet, including current president Ramzan Kadyrov's father, it was discovered that tons of plastic explosives had been laid in the foundations. Would that some civil engineer at the Malema residence knew history."

Spread The Love. For Fuck's Sake.

AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN...

You may have guessed that I have some repetition in my life. As alluded to in an earlier post (can't remember which), my life follows a pretty similar daily trend. Something along the lines of wake, wank, work, drink, sleep.

What I failed to mention at the time is that between the "work" and "sleep" part there is a whole lot of playing football, attending YOUR LMG Pub Quizzes, myriad social engagements, attending gigs, reviewing records, general pissing about and of course the 6 million band practices a week. You may ask if I am ever going to play live, since your stockpile of tomatoes is reaching optimum fleshy squishy softness...

So do I.

The questioning part, not the soft n squishy part. The running is taking care of the boep. Seeing as the tummy crunches were a roaring flop.

Speaking of running, I managed another marathon canter yesterday. An entire 5km with my BFF (Bastard Fucking Friend... no wait. Make that Bruce Fucking Fordyce) the torture master himself, Corporal Punishment. He was quite chatty yesterday. Apparently there were quite a few good looking young ladies all up and down the Promenade yesterday. The small patch of paving in front of my feet at any given moment was captivating all my attention...

Anyway, last night was a sad farewell to my friend from Sheep Shaggerville. At least we had Bosuns aka The Nectar Of The Gods From Mitchells Brewery to help ease the pain. And then wine until the wee hours back at the homestead.

As I was saying, can you sense a pattern here?

If only "detox" wasn't such a dirty word.

In other news, be sure to catch the mesmerising Shannon Hope live on Friday night. You'll have to book - not even sure if there is place left. Call Alma Cafe [021 685 7377] to avoid disappointment. Of buy a length of rope and find a sturdy roof beam.

Also, I finally did my bit for Mandela Day by pitching in at work to make sammitches for a night shelter and then delivering them. So much for my masculinity cred. Pass the mascara. To make matters worse, and to continue in the charitable theme, on Saturday I am wearing a large fluffy pink tutu and a tiara whilst hurtling along the R27 in a fury of kneecaps and elbows at breakneck speed (more like break ankle) in order to raise much needed funds. More details here. If you enjoy watching people making absolute tits of themselves and/or rubberneck involuntarily at car wrecks this is just the thing for you!

You had me at "tits"...

Now. Go read the heading of this post and try NOT thinking of 'A Forest' by the Cure.

And now look at the lovely picture just below it and see if it has anything whatsoever to do with the content of this missive.

NGDG: "I can't understand why someone would keep a photo of themselves on their desk. At least if you kept a mirror you'd be compelled to make an effort on occasion."

Spread The Love. Upstairs, Downstairs... In Your Nightgown...

A THREE POINT STAR...

...is essentially a triangle.

As you may have guessed I have been away from the intrawebs for a few days. Those of you strong willed enough to have resisted suicide while I was away and not filling your life with sunshine and salacious suggestions will be glad to know I am now back to fulfilling my online duties.

Which reminds me, I have a ton of stuff to catch up on...

First news: I managed virtually an entire 6km on Saturday in the blazing heat (don't get me started on winter in Cape Town). With my shirt off no less. Ok, I almost died of heat stroke and dehydration, but managed to get there in the end. Roll on this coming Saturday!

So after that it was off to the much anticipated Biggie Bash Birthday Extravaganza. By the time I got there most of the guests had been drinking something called Kung Fu Wine for roughly 5 hours and I was attacked by Half Pint (one of my co-conspirators in Axxon) to the point of almost being knocked down. Deciding it was a good idea to try and catch up to everyone else, I gleefully set about emptying the contents of my cooler box. Add to the mix a healthy dose of Metal, Ironic Pop Music, Band Star, empty jacuzzis, flailing hair, sticky floors and "good natured fun" and you get a night of total fucking lunacy capped off by sleeping in a strange house sans booze drenched pants. Then being woken up and being presented with the wonderful opportunity to change someone's tyre, that someone having displayed infinite genius in his attempts to mount the pavement at 90km/h going the wrong direction on the M3 blitzed out of his skull... Ah you have to love the cliched rock n roll lifestyle.

This resulted in a particularly fetching array of rubber ribbons hanging off the wheel rim. Unfortunately the picture I took is still on someone's camera, and has an inexplicable bag of prunes next to it...

Yesterday was spent in bed avoiding life and narrowly avoiding death.

I am still kinda finding my bearings as the hangover was too big for one day.

NGDG: "Loller: n. (16th Century) heretic who doubted the veracity of the Eucharist. Burnt at the stake."

Spread The Love. Just Be Careful With Whom.

CATCHING UP

You see the problem with attempting to maintain a going rate of a post per day (week days - you ungrateful greedy bastards can't have my weekends as well) is that sometimes I miss a day and then feel like I owe you a catch up post. Hence the appearance of these pointless attempts at placating the masses.

So.... catching up on what's been going down then. Saturday was a day of polar opposites and extremes.

Saturday we celebrated the life of a man dear to us in a wonderful way, remembering him in a beautiful service and being reduced to emotional blobs of jelly most of the time. Many a fond anecdote and warm tribute were shared. McCall, you will truly be missed and always held in our hearts.

Also, Saturday we partied. Oh boy, did we party. The pictures are quite incriminating. It happens everytime we have a piss up at the Bike Haus And Small Person Emporium. Dr "HellCuz" D. Ablo was sorely missed. I vaguely remember picking on some other hapless sod. As was HH, who was duly kakked out for not attending. In this day and age, it's not that ridiculous to pick up a phone and ask for a lift, you know...

Anyway I woke up on a couch in Tableau Voi and had to fight the urge to turn inside out. Not ideal.

For those of you in the know, I have been planning a fund raising run. Although circumstances have changed, I am still doing it and the money raised will still go towards medical bills, etc.

NGDG: "Neal Goldwyer loves DIY. Sharp nails in the flesh, not so much. St Neal and his stigmata."

FUCK. I TOTALLY FORGOT TO INCLUDE THE BEST NEWS (AND HTE REASON FOR THE PICCIE ABOVE). T&M WELCOMED 2 HEALTHY BOUNCING BABY TWINS ON FRIDAY NIGHT! WELCOME TRISTAN AND MILA. Uncle Dark Holiday can't wait for that first opportunity to spoil your dating experiences...

Spread The Love. Read This And Make A Contribution, No Matter How Small.

LOWER BACK PROBLEMS

So today the training resumes. Running around like a blue arsed fly with the sole purpose of being able to propel myself 6km to a bar some place. Without too much drama. Wearing a large pink tutu. And a tiara. And other suitably ridiculous paraphernalia. The mental picture is enough to send me retching towards the nearest toilet, but that probably has something to do with the current alcohol poisoning my body is so ungrateful for.

So last night we were treated to a gourmet feast prepared by Rose Thorn. I did the difficult part. Standing around, talking kak and drinking is integral to the success of any gathering and I am a master.

TDB did his best to play a bit of guitar for roughly 4 minutes, but soon realised it was farting against thunder and gave in to the festivities.

This morning is not going well. My insides are making a concerted effort to break the shackles of what's considered normal, ie: staying inside. Everything hurts. The soles of my feet are even sore. Training this afternoon is probably not going to be pleasant. Perhaps I should take along a little barf bag. "Party on Garth!"

In other news, I have recently rediscovered the wonder that is Transvision Vamp. Although this morning I'll settle for anything that isn't too taxing or loud. A bit of Portishead to soothe the furrowed brow methinks.

NGDG: "Oh shit! I've lost another 2kgs. Better have another pizza again tonight or I'll disappear. Maybe I'll see my favourite underage waitress too. *Smiling. But not in a creepy way."

Spread The Love. Panado, Disprin, Adco-dol, Grandpa, Mybulin, Myprodol, Horse Tranquilisers, Judas Priest album from 1990. Any kind of love...

IRRELEVENT FRIDAY

Blah blah blah blah.
Perhaps not the best way to start a blog post. Winding you up with a sense of palpable excitement and anticipation. What is he going to throw at us today? What weird, wacky, wonderful hunk of nonsense will enlighten us and enrich our very beings?

Probably not much.

I am currently poured into my office deskchair and looking at the bright sunshine outside. Being chained to a desk has its advantages. At least so I've been led to believe by one or 2 young ladies from my past, but not this way. Even with the neverending source of entertainment that is the interwebs, I'd much rather be at Peddlars enjoying a cold "barley soda".

So I took to the webs for inspiration and found out that one of South Africa's most cherished, revered and decorated bands, the mightily impressive Locnville, are moaning because 5FM won't play them. Oh pooh and woe! If 5FM ever play anything of mine again I'll perform my own version of Face Off with my own arsehole. They should count themselves lucky. Wankers.

It's not so much an indication that standards may have slipped in the last few years, but a damning indictment on the whole ugly mess. Thanks, fucking Locnville, for bringing the harsh truth to the forefront of my conscience again. Go dress each other!

I suppose it could be worse. The could be the Parlotoneless.

And on that magnificently cheerful note, the Used are coming to our shores! Double yippy-yay! With a scoop of fucking ice-cream...

Whatever happened to the real quality we were so proud of in this incredibly talented country of ours? The good old days, when we could hold our heads up and proudly associate ourselves with bands like No Friends Of Harry or E'Void? Well, the good news it's still here, stronger than ever. Still fighting the good fight and getting through to those of passable taste and at the very least in possession of a spine. Go see bands like A Walk With The Wicked, Axxon, KOBUS, Mind Assault, Sleepers (best fuckin' band around), Juggernaught, Sabretooth, Albert Frost, Cannon, Joshua Grierson, Terminatryx, Witness To Wolves, Cold Hand Chemistry, Jan Blohm, Hog Hoggidy Hog, Rudimentals, the phenomenal Shannon Hope and many, many more if you want something real.

SAMAs Schmamas.

Hope you all have thoroughly wonderful weekends. I hope Monday brings with it its own set of woes, in the form of a weekend you haven't recovered from. With any luck we can pick up where we left off and I won't be such a grumpy git.

At least we have this gentleman genius to help us get there. I give you NGDG: "Hoorah for lawyers! That council office smells like a veterinary clinic and every visit is one part reconnaissance, one part humiliation, all disappointment. I now have a rates account. Now I can pay for garbage they never collect and tax on the land my ancestors stole 30 years ago from the natives ."

Spread The Love. Be Safe. You don't want to get Band Aids. From Locnville...

WITNESS THE SHITNESS

So why does the dreaded FaceBoobs not have an option in the field above for simply"currently between miseries"?

*Disclaimer: This obviously DOES not refer to any past girlfriends I've had or (upon reading this retrospectively Sweetie), you either...

So given my rather obviously dim view on the subject at this juncture, it has occurred to me that the opposite should necessarily be true for this "between" time period. Making hay and all that. The problem is that this magical "making hay" used to be anticipated and welcomed with the same amount of glee usually reserved for a meeting between a fat kid and a cupcake. Not so much anymore. I have fallen over to the dark side. It's not my fault. They advertised cookies.

Far more interestingly, the music is going incredibly well. TDB and Rose Thorn have, along with yours truly, almost managed to manufacture a new sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-genre of music and it's sounding delicious.

The other lot are literally blazing! Must be the constant practicing so that the old people can one day look good. But let me tell you... if there was a market for 3 okes that REALLY play guitar and bass well together, then we'd be golden. But for now it's still a secret...

Oh, and then there's the currently active band. Pretty fucking sweet! Can't wait to bestride the stage one day again. And not fall over. The day, she is looming. It'll be like the end of my "currently between miseries" relationship status. Which is obviously the only reason I even bother with music. To quote Jason Lee (who should always be quoted, btw) in the movie Almost Famous "And the chicks are great!"

Alteratively you can go and find a great little book called A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis.It explains much of what I would like to have written in this post. If only there was a book that highlighted the utter disgrace that is the current form of humanity and its vulgar obsession with all the sordid details of every negative aspect of other peoples' lives.

Can't wait to be sent to an old age home one day. You know, when the cycle of life reaches it's virtual completion and your biggest worry is not shitting your pants before dinner.

NGDG: "You know how you avoid a band on principle because someone awful raves about them? And then sound behind the times when you start enjoying them? If yes, then I say to you: know what? Anachronism is a small price to pay for vengence."

Spread The Love. And Wash Your Hands Before Dinner.

I THINK FOUR NON BLONDES SAID IT BEST...

What, indeed! Is going on?

The world has gone to hell in a handbasket. (Funnily enough the moniker a friend of mine uses when commenting on her tortures.)

Up is down and left is right. Not in the political sense, where the middle ground between incompetence and khorrupshen is trod most diligently, but in a more general universal hippy butterfly-effect way.

Like... I have not been fitter in years and suddenly I am being beset by the lurgy. After smiling smugly to myself while everyone else was dropping like flies and I was bounding about the mountain with reckless abandon and severe lung cramp. Btw, Commander Punishment has been demoted a few ranks.

I was actually too busy yesterday for my daily ramble/rant. Can you imagine what this has done to my state of mental health? Or lack thereof...

Where do I even start. My weekend is easily summed up as follows:
Friday braaied with one of the bands and had awesome time.
Saturday's 3 Chord Theory reunion/farewell gig was an absolute riot. Many old faces. Even more older faces. A couple of faces I'd forgotten. The band gave a stellar performance between bouts of Alzheimer's induced "Ooops, let's start again." Nah, just kidding, they actually made the floor bounce as the throng of crazy bodies in front of them heaved and swirled in debaucherous delight. No one threw anything at Warpig, much to my disappointment. Well done you bunch of old geezers! Oi! Oi! Oi!!!
And btw, great venue. The Jolly Roger in Plumstead is a rad live venue/bar on the Main Rd and has everything a band could wish for. Go check it out if you need a new place to rock out and have a great time. Do it. You know you want to.

Sunday I did some light DIY work at Tarty's and afterwards a whole bunch of us ate her out of house and home as we demolished the awesome Sunday Chicken Roast. Thanks Tarty!

And then back to the grindstone. Bollocks.

At least tonight we get to celebrate the eventual inevitable conclusion of Team Burger King's rise to triumph at the weekly LMG Pub Quiz - the most fun you can have with her clothes on!
Oh, btw, congrats on an awesome issue LMG, truly a shining light in the dark, dreary Parlotoneless music scene. Inspired! Exceptional! Great cover art! Fantastic articles! Can you believe it's for free? What? You didn't know? Go and get yours now!

NGDG: "The longest Monday since the Monday they first turned back the clocks at Greenwich and turned them back so far they fell over the wall into Sunday and they had to wait for someone to bring a ladder, which took forever because people with ladders don't work on Sundays."

Spread The Love. Not The Lurgy. [Have I Used That One Already?]

3 BORED QUEERIES AND A DAY OFF.

"Splendid..." he thought. About the day off...

Then work went mental. Fuck.

Today is the first day this week I am not going to inflict torture of Spanish Inquisition magnitude upon myself. Instead I am going to take it easy and dive nose first into the case of beer I just bought as soon as I get home. I also fancy a braai tonight, the weather being all rad as it currently is. Sucks living here, I tell you.

Last night's cyclic calamity of limbs went alright. Managed the laps without stopping, but I was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf...

... seems I have my fairytales mixed up a little. I wonder if Little Red Riding Hood was bringing pork sammitches to her dear old Grammy.

Tomorrow is the end of an era. If by era you understand "nostalgic pangs for a select few who have been unfortunate enough to know The Warpig and his band". 3 Chord Theory is re-uniting to perform one last show, guitars strapped to zimmer frames et al. It's going to be an early evening to savour. I'm going, car wrecks are always entertaining.

Just kidding. I am going, but because I like the band, the personnel and I want my zimmer frame signed. Plus there will more than likely be beer...

So if you like your "punk" to be "in drublic" join myself and the hordes - details here.

Sunday I do some DIY at Tarty's.

Monday I blog about drilling my thumb accidentally.

NGDG: "There was a little engine that could, called Thomas I think; then there was the little engine that wouldn't, called Bureaucracy."

Spread The Love. Like Braai Sauce. Snick! Gaaaauuummmpppphhh!