Music is a big part of the festive atmosphere, so as I haven't blogged in a while and in the spirit of the season, here's my personal selection of some yuletide tunes - a mix of cover songs and originals you might not be so familiar with.
I ho ho hope you enjoy it!
1. Paul Simon - Getting Ready For Christmas Day
2. The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight)
3. Ringo Starr - I Wanna Be Santa Claus
4. Eels - Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas
5. Podge and Rodge - There's A Dead Man Up The Chimney!
6. Aidan Moffat - Plastic Mistletoe
7. Loudon Wainwright - Christmas Morning
8. Travis - Last Christmas
9. Mark Hoppus and Ben Folds - Happy Holidays, You Bastard
10. Thea Gilmore - That'll Be Christmas
11. Sufjan Stevens - That Was The Worst Christmas Ever!
12. Eric Idle - Fuck Christmas
13. Glasvegas - Stay Another Day
14. Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band - Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
15. Sting - I Saw Three Ships
16. Foster Brooks - Twelve Drunken Days Of Christmas
17. U2 - I Believe In Father Christmas
18. Death Cab For Cutie - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
19. Diamond Rugs - Christmas In A Chinese Restaurant
20. The Dan Band - I Wanna Rock You Hard This Christmas
Monday 17 December 2012
Friday 19 October 2012
Nick Griffin to be fired into space
Britain is teaming up with various interplanetary agencies in a bid to finally eradicate bollock-faced cretin Nick Griffin.
An emergency conference was held last night between Cambridgeshire police, NASA and the Justice League Satellite after Mr Griffin took to twitter to confirm that the shit coming out of his mouth is now beginning to effect Earth’s atmosphere.
The first tweet read ‘Proud 2 say toxic bacteria from my very soul is finally combining with Co2 to make new type of smog...say yes to years of h8 crime!’
He appeared unsettled by the backlash from virtually everybody, later adding ‘what do u mean blacks n gays r ppl too? #confused’
Austrian mentalist Felix Baumgartner has agreed to work closely with those involved to stage a recreation of last sunday’s space jump - in which he broke the world record for shitting oneself without exhaling - to see off Griffin for good. A spokesman explained:
We’ve told Nick he could set a new record as the most racist wanker to fall from space, and naturally he’s well up for it. It’ll be just like last week except when he enters freefall Superman will fling him directly into orbit, and, all being well, the Sun.
The capsule will then be safely piloted back to the landing area by Samuel L. Jackson, who will accompany Mr Griffin on his journey carrying a baseball bat and encouraging polite conversation.
An emergency conference was held last night between Cambridgeshire police, NASA and the Justice League Satellite after Mr Griffin took to twitter to confirm that the shit coming out of his mouth is now beginning to effect Earth’s atmosphere.
The first tweet read ‘Proud 2 say toxic bacteria from my very soul is finally combining with Co2 to make new type of smog...say yes to years of h8 crime!’
He appeared unsettled by the backlash from virtually everybody, later adding ‘what do u mean blacks n gays r ppl too? #confused’
Austrian mentalist Felix Baumgartner has agreed to work closely with those involved to stage a recreation of last sunday’s space jump - in which he broke the world record for shitting oneself without exhaling - to see off Griffin for good. A spokesman explained:
We’ve told Nick he could set a new record as the most racist wanker to fall from space, and naturally he’s well up for it. It’ll be just like last week except when he enters freefall Superman will fling him directly into orbit, and, all being well, the Sun.
The capsule will then be safely piloted back to the landing area by Samuel L. Jackson, who will accompany Mr Griffin on his journey carrying a baseball bat and encouraging polite conversation.
Tuesday 24 July 2012
The wheels on the bus
Ray Bellisario’s recent account of sustained discrimination on public transport hints at a sinister legacy forged by a deeply uncaring government.
I don’t want to alarm you, but your body is closing you down. Every day. Every minute. Right now, you are being betrayed by your own vessel in an act of deception so huge that even when you stare right at it, you see nothing. And it gets worse: You are helpess against it. It is totally and absolutely inevitable and will happen to you no matter what means you seek to protest it. Those pilates you do on your lunch hour? Useless. That run you try to best every day? No good. The pine cone infused salad you go for over the burger? It won’t save you.
Whatever you do, however you spin it, the body you are so fiercely protecting today will have no problem selling you down the river tomorrow - you will get older, and then after that you’ll get old. Now that we’ve have established that the playing field we’re all on is well and truly level, let’s get to some specifics. I am older, rather than old. But, even at 28 (you’re right, I don’t look it, thanks) I do share at least one characteristic with 76 year old Ray Bellisario, who came to unlikely prominence in the society pages of the Guardian last week.
Like Mr. Bellisario, I use a wheelchair to get around. Unlike Mr Bellisario, I don’t use public transport much and after hearing his story I feel (sadly) justified in that decision. He has announced plans to bring legal action against bus companies in London after being told that he couldn’t travel, even though according to mayor Boris Johnson ‘Every London bus is equipped to carry wheelchairs and all drivers are trained extensively in how to help passengers in wheelchairs.‘ Being told once that I couldn’t travel on an accessible bus would anger me. Being told a few times would lead me into transit based therapy sessions. But being told 28 times - that’s one for every year of my life - is unfathomable to me, even after plenty of first hand experience of disability discrimination. And yet this is what happened to Ray, over a period of 18 months. That is staggering.
There has, of course, been the familiar trickle of stock response - Boris Johnson has earmarked what happened to Mr. Bellisario as ‘totally unacceptable’ and has ordered Transport for London to investigate the incidents as a ’matter of urgency’. Meanwhile, fresh from declaring Remploy nonviable - thus causing strike action and the looming prospect of unemployment for over 1,400 disabled people in 27 of it’s factories - ministeragainst for disabled people Maria Miller has rather hilariously suggested that a shift in attitude toward the disabled population may be the problem. Over and above the tepid and transparent Westminster responses there is a far more startling reveal woven into Mr. Bellisario’s account - the humane cost of deeply ingrained predjudice. Dangerous preconceptions are being fuelled by inaccurate data, skewed rhetoric and stories that favour ideological agenda over precise journalism.
The issue of the type of mobility vehicle suitable for travel on an accessible bus is a valid one - if it’s too big to fit, then it’s too big to fit. The glaring omission with that argument though is it’s inverted nature - surely we should be making sure the buses can accomodate the chairs, rather than excluding passengers because the chair (or scooter) is unsuitable for the bus. The current standard set up features one designated space per bus, and it can be incredibly difficult getting somebody with a pushchair or sixty bags of shopping to vacate it, no matter how disarmingly simple the little sticker on the window makes it seem. Assuming the spot is free, you then have to manouvere into it, a process helpfully aided by those who engineered it; presumably deciding it just wasn’t awkward enough they elected to place an immovable pole in the middle of the space, effectively cutting the amount of available room in half.
It follows too that bus drivers should be better trained - offering weak justifications such as ‘I daren’t take the risk’ for not allowing a disabled person on a bus, or even worse, taking steps to physically prevent them from boarding, is beyond reproach. These experiences are becoming alarmingly commonplace and last month, over 100 disability activists protested outside Parliament, calling for appropriate penalties for bus and train companies when disabled passengers are subjected to failure and neglect. With the Paralymics looming large, is ‘I don’t care about your f**king rights’ - as Mr Bellisario was told by one fellow passenger - really the message we want to be sending out as the world’s spotlight shines on us?
This article also appears at Dancing Giraffe here
I don’t want to alarm you, but your body is closing you down. Every day. Every minute. Right now, you are being betrayed by your own vessel in an act of deception so huge that even when you stare right at it, you see nothing. And it gets worse: You are helpess against it. It is totally and absolutely inevitable and will happen to you no matter what means you seek to protest it. Those pilates you do on your lunch hour? Useless. That run you try to best every day? No good. The pine cone infused salad you go for over the burger? It won’t save you.
Whatever you do, however you spin it, the body you are so fiercely protecting today will have no problem selling you down the river tomorrow - you will get older, and then after that you’ll get old. Now that we’ve have established that the playing field we’re all on is well and truly level, let’s get to some specifics. I am older, rather than old. But, even at 28 (you’re right, I don’t look it, thanks) I do share at least one characteristic with 76 year old Ray Bellisario, who came to unlikely prominence in the society pages of the Guardian last week.
Like Mr. Bellisario, I use a wheelchair to get around. Unlike Mr Bellisario, I don’t use public transport much and after hearing his story I feel (sadly) justified in that decision. He has announced plans to bring legal action against bus companies in London after being told that he couldn’t travel, even though according to mayor Boris Johnson ‘Every London bus is equipped to carry wheelchairs and all drivers are trained extensively in how to help passengers in wheelchairs.‘ Being told once that I couldn’t travel on an accessible bus would anger me. Being told a few times would lead me into transit based therapy sessions. But being told 28 times - that’s one for every year of my life - is unfathomable to me, even after plenty of first hand experience of disability discrimination. And yet this is what happened to Ray, over a period of 18 months. That is staggering.
There has, of course, been the familiar trickle of stock response - Boris Johnson has earmarked what happened to Mr. Bellisario as ‘totally unacceptable’ and has ordered Transport for London to investigate the incidents as a ’matter of urgency’. Meanwhile, fresh from declaring Remploy nonviable - thus causing strike action and the looming prospect of unemployment for over 1,400 disabled people in 27 of it’s factories - minister
The issue of the type of mobility vehicle suitable for travel on an accessible bus is a valid one - if it’s too big to fit, then it’s too big to fit. The glaring omission with that argument though is it’s inverted nature - surely we should be making sure the buses can accomodate the chairs, rather than excluding passengers because the chair (or scooter) is unsuitable for the bus. The current standard set up features one designated space per bus, and it can be incredibly difficult getting somebody with a pushchair or sixty bags of shopping to vacate it, no matter how disarmingly simple the little sticker on the window makes it seem. Assuming the spot is free, you then have to manouvere into it, a process helpfully aided by those who engineered it; presumably deciding it just wasn’t awkward enough they elected to place an immovable pole in the middle of the space, effectively cutting the amount of available room in half.
It follows too that bus drivers should be better trained - offering weak justifications such as ‘I daren’t take the risk’ for not allowing a disabled person on a bus, or even worse, taking steps to physically prevent them from boarding, is beyond reproach. These experiences are becoming alarmingly commonplace and last month, over 100 disability activists protested outside Parliament, calling for appropriate penalties for bus and train companies when disabled passengers are subjected to failure and neglect. With the Paralymics looming large, is ‘I don’t care about your f**king rights’ - as Mr Bellisario was told by one fellow passenger - really the message we want to be sending out as the world’s spotlight shines on us?
This article also appears at Dancing Giraffe here
Tuesday 28 February 2012
Horse breaks silence on years of depression
A horse who has frequented pubs and clubs for almost twenty years refusing to make small talk has finally opened up about his debilitating low mood.
The horse - known only as Clip Clop - has been sensationally outed as a corporate stooge for the rich and famous, after the Metropolitan Police left top secret documents in the hands of James Murdoch on the same day The Sun on Sunday needed a front page story.
The controversial papers detailed the practice of loaning adorable animals to figures in the public eye who are experiencing a media backlash. The process - often referred to as 'chumming up' - is a damage limitation exercise used to boost publicity, and can see those involved paying thousands of pounds a time for the privilege.
Now Clip Clop has revealed the darker side of this relatively unknown world, and the often devastating consequences:
You go where you're needed, and it's fun at first. They stroke you a bit, tell you all their troubles, that sort of thing. You feel good. But then it just starts to get on your nerves when it's all day and all night. And they take out super-injunctions so you can't repeat any of it. I'd go into a bar, and every night it would be 'Why the long face?'I wanted to say, 'You'd have a fucking long face too if you'd worked with Jeremy Clarkson for seven years and gone through three divorces with Phil Collins!' But I couldn't tell anyone so I'd just keep drinking. It was a downward spiral.
This is not the first time News International has used chumming up to stem the flow of negative publicity - in 2003, Robbie Williams was pictured riding a hippo in his local Tesco, while in 1995 Stephen Fry had a mental breakdown and stayed with kittens wearing mittens for six weeks in the south of France.
When asked to comment on today's fresh revelations and his time with former Sun editor Rebekah Brooks, Clip Clop replied: Fucking hell. She said she was Mick Hucknall.
The horse - known only as Clip Clop - has been sensationally outed as a corporate stooge for the rich and famous, after the Metropolitan Police left top secret documents in the hands of James Murdoch on the same day The Sun on Sunday needed a front page story.
The controversial papers detailed the practice of loaning adorable animals to figures in the public eye who are experiencing a media backlash. The process - often referred to as 'chumming up' - is a damage limitation exercise used to boost publicity, and can see those involved paying thousands of pounds a time for the privilege.
Now Clip Clop has revealed the darker side of this relatively unknown world, and the often devastating consequences:
You go where you're needed, and it's fun at first. They stroke you a bit, tell you all their troubles, that sort of thing. You feel good. But then it just starts to get on your nerves when it's all day and all night. And they take out super-injunctions so you can't repeat any of it. I'd go into a bar, and every night it would be 'Why the long face?'I wanted to say, 'You'd have a fucking long face too if you'd worked with Jeremy Clarkson for seven years and gone through three divorces with Phil Collins!' But I couldn't tell anyone so I'd just keep drinking. It was a downward spiral.
This is not the first time News International has used chumming up to stem the flow of negative publicity - in 2003, Robbie Williams was pictured riding a hippo in his local Tesco, while in 1995 Stephen Fry had a mental breakdown and stayed with kittens wearing mittens for six weeks in the south of France.
When asked to comment on today's fresh revelations and his time with former Sun editor Rebekah Brooks, Clip Clop replied: Fucking hell. She said she was Mick Hucknall.
Thursday 9 February 2012
Heather Mills revealed as new England manager
Heather Mills has been appointed as the new England manager just hours before her relentless media exposure was due to come to an end.
According to reports, the former supermodel and motorcycle enthusiast is 'very excited' to demonstrate why footballers no longer care about their jobs and will begin preparations for England's upcoming defeat in the European Championship as early as next week.
FA chairman David Bernstein announced the decision, citing Mills' complete lack of footballing knowledge as a key factor:
Heather is absolutely the best man for the job. She loves money, she's addicted to publicity and best of all she has no loyalty to the sport or the fans whatsoever. Obviously we're disappointed she isn't foreign, but you can't have everything.
Friends say the new role couldn't have come at a better time for Mills, who has been surviving on just £10,000 per day after mugging Paul McCartney in broad daylight several years ago. She commented:
England have been completely shit at football since 1966, which is round about the same time I got the idea to fleece a fucking Beatle. It's obviously meant to be!
Mills' appointment is also the first to comply with new pitch regulations, bringing the total number of legs in the technical area at any one time down to 19.
Meanwhile Fabio Capello has shed light on his decision to quit the post, stating he got the idea last month after turning on the news to see an Italian man abandoning a sinking ship.
According to reports, the former supermodel and motorcycle enthusiast is 'very excited' to demonstrate why footballers no longer care about their jobs and will begin preparations for England's upcoming defeat in the European Championship as early as next week.
FA chairman David Bernstein announced the decision, citing Mills' complete lack of footballing knowledge as a key factor:
Heather is absolutely the best man for the job. She loves money, she's addicted to publicity and best of all she has no loyalty to the sport or the fans whatsoever. Obviously we're disappointed she isn't foreign, but you can't have everything.
Friends say the new role couldn't have come at a better time for Mills, who has been surviving on just £10,000 per day after mugging Paul McCartney in broad daylight several years ago. She commented:
England have been completely shit at football since 1966, which is round about the same time I got the idea to fleece a fucking Beatle. It's obviously meant to be!
Mills' appointment is also the first to comply with new pitch regulations, bringing the total number of legs in the technical area at any one time down to 19.
Meanwhile Fabio Capello has shed light on his decision to quit the post, stating he got the idea last month after turning on the news to see an Italian man abandoning a sinking ship.
Friday 3 February 2012
The twenty (actual) saddest songs of all time
Earlier this week, The Telegraph published the results of it's poll about the twenty saddest songs of all time. I was appalled by the list for several reasons.
Firstly because the top song, Everybody Hurts, is not sad in the least - it is an uplifting tune about the strength of the human spirit, about, as the songs says, taking comfort in your friends and not being alone, even when you feel like you are. What is remotely sad about that?
Secondly, you CANNOT have a list of the saddest songs ever and feature the fucking Beatles and Celine Dion. The guys who wrote I Feel Fine and I Want To Hold Your Hand clearly no nothing about the extent of true misery - Yesterday, which appears on the list, was originally a song about scrambled eggs. Likewise with Mrs. Dion..the only thing sad about My Heart Will Go On is that it didn't go down with the rest of the ship. And, like the R.E.M. song before it, the message it carries is actually one of enduring hope.
Put simply, for the most part these are not sad songs
20. With Or Without You - U2
19. Save Me - Queen
18. Fire And Rain - James Taylor
17. A Woman Left Lonely - Janis Joplin
16. What Will You Say - Jeff Buckley
15. Sinead O'Connor - Last Day Of Our Acquaintance
14. You Never Wanted Me - Jackson Frank
13. Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John
12. The Brilliant Dance - Dashboard Confessional
11. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright - Bob Dylan
10. Disintegration - The Cure
9. Unsatisfied - The Replacements
8. These Days - Jackson Browne
7. Empty - Ray Lamontagne
6. One Step Up - Bruce Springsteen
5. I See A Darkness - Johnny Cash (original by Will Oldham)
4. Friends - Ryan Adams
3. Crossing Muddy Waters - John Hiatt
2. River - Joni Mitchell
1. Asleep - The Smiths
If all this gloom has you weeping into your Nutrigrain wrapper please check out the blog of my friend Kate, who has reversed the polarity of my particular disposition to come up with the twenty happiest songs of all time
Firstly because the top song, Everybody Hurts, is not sad in the least - it is an uplifting tune about the strength of the human spirit, about, as the songs says, taking comfort in your friends and not being alone, even when you feel like you are. What is remotely sad about that?
Secondly, you CANNOT have a list of the saddest songs ever and feature the fucking Beatles and Celine Dion. The guys who wrote I Feel Fine and I Want To Hold Your Hand clearly no nothing about the extent of true misery - Yesterday, which appears on the list, was originally a song about scrambled eggs. Likewise with Mrs. Dion..the only thing sad about My Heart Will Go On is that it didn't go down with the rest of the ship. And, like the R.E.M. song before it, the message it carries is actually one of enduring hope.
Put simply, for the most part these are not sad songs
20. With Or Without You - U2
19. Save Me - Queen
18. Fire And Rain - James Taylor
17. A Woman Left Lonely - Janis Joplin
16. What Will You Say - Jeff Buckley
15. Sinead O'Connor - Last Day Of Our Acquaintance
14. You Never Wanted Me - Jackson Frank
13. Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John
12. The Brilliant Dance - Dashboard Confessional
11. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright - Bob Dylan
10. Disintegration - The Cure
9. Unsatisfied - The Replacements
8. These Days - Jackson Browne
7. Empty - Ray Lamontagne
6. One Step Up - Bruce Springsteen
5. I See A Darkness - Johnny Cash (original by Will Oldham)
4. Friends - Ryan Adams
3. Crossing Muddy Waters - John Hiatt
2. River - Joni Mitchell
1. Asleep - The Smiths
If all this gloom has you weeping into your Nutrigrain wrapper please check out the blog of my friend Kate, who has reversed the polarity of my particular disposition to come up with the twenty happiest songs of all time
Thursday 26 January 2012
Tasteful tabloid delights thousands with diversity scheme
Britain's most impartial and balanced newspaper has today spearheaded a national campaign to promote tolerance and equality by letting a severely disabled man pen one of it's lead articles.
Rod Liddle - whose brains are tragically missing - was allowed to write whatever he wanted, as long as it did not contain anything which could be mistaken for factual accuracy and any figures mentioned were plucked out of thin air. The paper's editor explained how the piece came about:
Rod has been a friend of ours for years. After David Cameron came and personally closed down the local community centre he goes to, he had nothing to do and lacked stimulation. Then one day I was chatting to him and he mentioned he's always loved inciting hatred and looking at pictures of tits, which is when I got the idea to let him write something for us. With our help, he constructed the article by cutting his favourite words out of various magazines. He then gave the words to a chimp, who later that afternoon picked them at random from a top hat. We did the rest.
Mr Liddle suffers from T.W.A.T., a progressive disorder which causes the front, back, and sidal lobes of the brain to collapse under the weight of their own ignorance. The skull is then hollowed out using a ladle, and packed with bubble wrap.
You can read the finished article here
Rod Liddle - whose brains are tragically missing - was allowed to write whatever he wanted, as long as it did not contain anything which could be mistaken for factual accuracy and any figures mentioned were plucked out of thin air. The paper's editor explained how the piece came about:
Rod has been a friend of ours for years. After David Cameron came and personally closed down the local community centre he goes to, he had nothing to do and lacked stimulation. Then one day I was chatting to him and he mentioned he's always loved inciting hatred and looking at pictures of tits, which is when I got the idea to let him write something for us. With our help, he constructed the article by cutting his favourite words out of various magazines. He then gave the words to a chimp, who later that afternoon picked them at random from a top hat. We did the rest.
Mr Liddle suffers from T.W.A.T., a progressive disorder which causes the front, back, and sidal lobes of the brain to collapse under the weight of their own ignorance. The skull is then hollowed out using a ladle, and packed with bubble wrap.
You can read the finished article here
Saturday 7 January 2012
Brave Face For Cameron As Morals Clash With Job
David Cameron is set to undergo a gruelling schedule of shaking hands and saying things in a fresh attempt to make it look like he cares about something other than rich people.
The Prime Minister has promised to use the media to rail against his former school chums salaries until the next big budget natural disaster or celebrity sex feast makes everyone forget about it.
The bonuses - usually doled out in crisp, used fifties and given for things including correctly writing 'boobs' on a calculator and sitting quietly in the office until home time - were introduced as standard practice long before the Tories failed to win the last election and are generally seen as 'perfectly reasonable' by politicians who benefit from them financially.
Speaking outside Downing Street, where he was re-heating a pot noodle for Vince Cable, Mr Cameron explained:
The days ahead are going to be difficult for Britain as I really, really like bonuses and giving rich people money they don't need - especially close personal friends. But, if I go on Andrew Marr and phone up The Telegraph and say things like 'It needs sorting out' over and over, I'm pretty sure I can have you lot convinced by the time X Factor starts accepting applicants again.
Cameron, a reformed Moomin, is the first television actor to occupy the highest seat in Government since Meryl Streep fled the 1980's over 20 years ago. She has since been spotted in various films, including an Abba promo for assisted suicide and that Nazi one with all the crying.
The Prime Minister has promised to use the media to rail against his former school chums salaries until the next big budget natural disaster or celebrity sex feast makes everyone forget about it.
The bonuses - usually doled out in crisp, used fifties and given for things including correctly writing 'boobs' on a calculator and sitting quietly in the office until home time - were introduced as standard practice long before the Tories failed to win the last election and are generally seen as 'perfectly reasonable' by politicians who benefit from them financially.
Speaking outside Downing Street, where he was re-heating a pot noodle for Vince Cable, Mr Cameron explained:
The days ahead are going to be difficult for Britain as I really, really like bonuses and giving rich people money they don't need - especially close personal friends. But, if I go on Andrew Marr and phone up The Telegraph and say things like 'It needs sorting out' over and over, I'm pretty sure I can have you lot convinced by the time X Factor starts accepting applicants again.
Cameron, a reformed Moomin, is the first television actor to occupy the highest seat in Government since Meryl Streep fled the 1980's over 20 years ago. She has since been spotted in various films, including an Abba promo for assisted suicide and that Nazi one with all the crying.
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