4 posts tagged “rock!”
Good news! We are going to be spared from ever having to listen to James Blunt or cunting Embrace again, as The Second Coming Of Rock is upon us!
In other news, I received a piece of spam this morning, which I decided to read. It was the usual guff about finding a fuck buddy in my area; but this was set apart from the rest, as it addressed me as 'Rancorous'. This pleased me. I demand to be known as Rancorous from now on. Or possibly Lord Rancorous the Horrid.
That is all.
It's about time for an update, I think. Here are a few things wot have happened recently :
- It was Surf-Film-Maker Chap's birthday. His ladyfriend got him a remote-controlled plane. He was very excited about this, spent all morning assembling it, and then took it out for a test swoop that afternoon. He went to a quiet spot, and tried to take off from the ground - as per the instructions. The grass was too long to allow it to take off, so he launched it by hand - a practice flagged up in the instructions by having a big red line through it. It did ascend, for about a split-second; just before it made a convincing nose-dive into the ground, shattering the propeller. He loaded the wreckage back into his van, and drove off. The entire operation lasted about two minutes. And the spot was quiet - but not so quiet that some lady hadn't watched him the whole time, and laughed her ass off.
Fortunately for our hapless hero, there was a spare propeller in the box. So the following morning he took his baby out for round two. This time he employed a different method (omitting to press 'go up', in favour of 'go down'), but achieved exactly the same end result. - I am finally moving to The City next week. I shall be living temporarily with the Sweet Ecologist (my ex ladyfriend, for those who haven't been keeping up). This could be fun, or could be weird. But for those of you who doubt the wisdom of such a decision, consider this - she has bought a house in an area serviced by water taxi. That's right - water taxi! Turboskill!
- On an evening out, I got engaged to a very lovely friend of mine. She is gorgeous, loves to ROCK!, and has a mouth like a sewer. To wit, she is perfect. However, I think when she suggested getting married, she was thinking of the potential haul of presents; and not sweet booty-ya-ya. I am now engaged to three people. None of whom I am destined to ever have sex with. Blee.
- Speaking of women, as we were, I have pretty much decided to stop blogging about the pursuit of ladies. Mainly because, when I start doing my homework, I am told pertinent bits of information such as: "She's got a boyfriend", "She's married, with children", "She's just over for the weekend before flying back to Ulan Bator", "She's killed, and will kill again". It's time to go into hibernation.
That'll do for now, I think.
So I went out on Saturday night, dressed in many ties. Most of those who had dressed as a country had done a pretty prosaic job (no less than four people wore stripey shirts and berets); although full marks to the sub who sported massively augmented breasts, a tiara, and a T-shirt which read 'I Love Peter André'.
Anyway, towards the end of the evening, I met up with my dreadlocked ex housemate, who has just begun work at one of the county's large energy concerns. He'd had to take a drugs test before they'd employ him. However, he was starting 'fresh' from a trip to Amsterdam.
I asked him how he had fared in the drugs test. He told me that he'd gotten through with flying shades of yellow - in no small part due to having used a bottle of his housemate's piss, which he'd kept at the right temperature with some kind of warming pack he'd bought from Boots.
As he was telling me this story, Jimi Hendrix started cranking out over the pub's speakers. How unlikely is that?
The universe is, once more, trying to talk to me.
At the moment, Radio Six are encouraging listeners to inform them of their favourite cover versions. There will be a top 40 favourite countdown on the 27th. It is an interesting question, I think. Finding the 'ultimate' song is one thing; finding the 'ultimate' interpretation of a song is something else.
So, what are your favourite covers ?
Me ? I'm finding it hard to narrow it down. 'Hungry Like The Wolf' by Reel Big Fish is very good. I love The Pet Shop Boys doing 'Always On My Mind'. And have you heard Goldfinger doing '99 Red Balloons' ? It's ultrachunky!
Plus, what covers shouldn't one do ? I am given to thinking that songs by The Beatles and The Smiths shouldn't be covered, as they ain't gonna be bettered. There are a couple of exceptions ('London' by Cinerama was lovely - all smokey and wistful); but I think as a rule of thumb, it stands.
Well ? You fuckers ?
