


Pictures are from The Guardian http://www.guardian.co.uk/Booze, news and views from a drunken opinionated fool who can't spell very well, may well repeat himself, and can't blame it on dislexia



Pictures are from The Guardian http://www.guardian.co.uk/
So there is meant to be some kind of action tonight by 'Art Uncut, the offshoot of the anti-tax avoidance protest franchise UK Uncut which has succeeded in closing down dozens of banks and high-street stores in recent months' to protest at U2 and their tax avoidance. Obviously l may look very foolish tomorrow, but l predict nothing will happen, it's just a lot of hype and publicity, which will turn out to be nonsense.


Paul Weller has designed some stuff for Liam Gallagher's Pretty Green label, which probably worked out well for both of them (more here http://www.prettygreen.com/paulweller/?dm_i=GQR,GK1A,3VTB5K,1CJRX,1&siteID=TnL5HPStwNw-Oyj8yRri8BhBD3mHJ28xtg). Liam worships Weller, and being involved with this, Weller can still think of himself as a style icon.
Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes,
I came to lay Ceasar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows,
Wails long after he's cut out.
The groovey is often stashed with their frames,
So don't put Caesar down.
The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you
That Caesar was hungry for power.
If it were so, it was a sad drag,
And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.
Here with a pass from Brutus and the other brass,
For Brutus is a worthy stud,
Yea, so are they all worthy studs,
Though their stallions never sleep.
I came to wail at Ceasar's wake.
He was my buddy, and he leveled with me.
Yet Brutus digs that he has eyes for power,
And Brutus is a solid cat.
It is true he hath returned with many freaks in chains
And brought them home to Rome.
Yea, the looty was booty
And hip the trays we weld(?)
Dost thou dig that this was Caesar's groove
For the putsch?
When the cats with the empty kicks hath copped out,
Yea, Caesar hath copped out, too,
And cried up a storm.
To be a world grabber a stiffer riff must be blown.
Without bread a stud can't even rule an anthill.
Yet Brutus was swinging for the moon.
And, yea, Brutus is a worthy stud.
And all you cats were gassed on the Lupercal
When he came on like a king freak.
Three times I lay the kingly wig on him,
And thrice did he put it down.
Was this the move of a greedy hipster?
Yet, Brutus said he dug the lick,
And, yes, a hipper cat has never blown.
Some claim that Brutus' story was a gag.
But I dug the story was solid.
I came here to blow.
Now, stay cool while I blow.
You all dug him once
Because you were hipped that he was solid
How can you now come on so square
Now that he's tapped out of this world.
City Hall is flipped
And swung to a drunken zoo
And all of you cats are goofed to wig city.
Dig me hard.
My ticker is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And, yea, I must stay cool til it flippeth back to me.
There is a feature in this months Word magazine about collecting records, and storing them if you have loads. It featured (amongst others) Bob Harris, who stores his CDs in a portakabin in his garden. It may well be a mightily secure and alarmed portakabin, but it is a portakabin non the less. It is also full of shelves and CDs. To say l was envious looking at the pictures is an understatement, l was so outrageously jealous it was unbelievable. It is not even the amount of CDs he has, as l have the same amount, if not more. It's the shelves. Those beautiful wooden shelves. I think l am becoming addicted to them (and very, very sad). Time for a lie down methinks, it's getting late and l am going giddy.


Back in the day (late 60's/early 70's), Peter Grant, the huge ex wrestler who managed Led Zeppelin, got Paul Reeves and Jon Wealleans in to do up his house while the mighty Zeppelin were away on tour. He also left most of it up to them as to what was to be done. When he returned, they said they were crapping themselves in case his reaction was not favourable, as he was known to be 'quite' aggressive on the 'odd occasion'. Luckily for them, he loved his new décor, and their heads stayed at the top of their necks, not up their arses (unlike most interior designers). Looking at some of the decoration, l would have been mighty worried showing it to him. Luckily everyone was on acid in them days, as he wouldn't commission it now (probably because he is now dead).













This looks like my kind of place. It's Watch Island which is a private island located by The Thousand Islands region, on the Saint Lawrence River near Clayton in New York State. 
This is just the sort of programme l love and hate. A documentary following six families on a council estate (scheme) in Kilmarnock.


I can't remember the name of this chap (and l certainly can't be bothered looking), but he collects mini books and keeps them all in special shelves.
So, there's another match fixing scandal in Italy. 
I eventually got round to watching this again today, as it has been on the Sky box for ages.