Because you need a new one of them..

In Park Lane there is a shop that sells up market and expensive bannister rail stoppers. Fair enough really I suppose. Those with a posh enough bannister rail may indeed need a posh enough bannister rail stopper. I may like to add though that this is all they sell, and judging by the decor, they make a killing.

Now I’m not going to go on about how our society is ran by this type of self-indulgant corporate greed or that this business venture is pointless but I will say if your bannister rail stopper is a huge bust of Sir Isaac Newton or a giant iron fist then your house is too big, you have too much money to throw around and deserve to slide down your own bannister, legs akimbo and take the punishment.

To be honest too I can’t think of a situation where you’d be browsing in this shop let alone walking past and thinking: “You know what, I’m tired of the classic acorn bannister rail stopper I have, I was thinking about the sultans palace tower style, but I’ve just seen this absolutely glorious head of Queen Victoria. Everybody in the land will appreciate this as they ascend my old oak staircase.” It’s a different world isnt it. I sort of did like the giant fist though. Nothing says relentless corporate boss like a giant fist at the foot of the stair well.

Much love,

T x

Mellow Magic

Sometimes you just don’t want to listen to cool music. You’re music-ed out and no longer want to hear intelligent lyrics to bowel movement assisting bass lines and ethereal soundscapes. You want to hear some shit.

One of the bands unwritten rules is that the cab we get home from a show has to be playing Mellow Magic FM. I am guilty of starting this guilty pleasure but as I said, sometimes you just want to hear some mindless toss. When I say mindless toss, I mean amazing 70′s and 80′s tuneage. Ever watched the performances on Top of The Tops 1977? Priceless. You can’t teach that.

I have produced a playlist of shit that is positively heavenly and will reduce a drunken you, into a blubbing and fisting the air-like thug.

1. Boy Meets Girl – Waiting For A Star To Fall (Because opening with a saxophone is definitely cool)

2. Mental As Anything – Live It Up (Because it’s really really sleazy)

3. Nightranger – The Secret Of My Success (Because it makes you want to succeed and wear shoulder pads)

4. Annie Lennox – No More I Love You’s (Rub-a-dub-dub-dub aaahh, need I say more. Genius)

5. Eric Carmen – Hungry Eyes (Because it’s sexy AND emotional)

6. The Beloved – In Sweet Harmony (It has nude ladies in the video and makes me think of nude ladies when listening)

7. Limahl – The Never Ending Story (Because it makes you ponder mortality. Sometimes.)

8. T’Pau – China In Your Hands (Because it’s hideous.)

9. Toto – Africa (Because it’s probably the best chorus in the world)

10. Berlin – Take My Breath Away (By this point in the journey we are usually paying the driver, but never the less are still singing, or imitating the ridiculous bass line <Bow Now Now Now Now>)

Don’t Say I never give you anything.

Much love, T x

Day Of Pain

Yesterday was a day of mostly pain. I managed all of this by stupidity though I might add. When my trilby blew off in the wind I retreived it from a bush and cracked my head on an elm tree branch.

Then in Charing Cross station I kneed the closing door and prompty hit a nerve, causing me to limp like a fool into the foyer of a shop, hastily moving out of the way of bustling shoppers to poke myself in the eye with my umbrella. Later in the day whilst re-stringing my spanish guitar, I stepped on a disguarded string that went under my toenail, and even later biting the inside of my mouth and burning it at the same time on some soup.

When I went to bed I entered at the foot of it and went under the duvet defeated. People obviously have it worse than me, but fuck you, it really hurt.

Much Fucking Love,

T x

Regional News

I tend to remember regional news. Mainly for the reason that it often reflects the area from which it came. When the band had a photoshoot down in Merstham, Kent, the headline outside the local (and only) shop read “Student sheds 6 stone”. I never found out the ins and outs but I think it’s probably as basic as it sounds. In my head it could have easily read: “Fatso sees the light” and have a bigger impact. I should be in journalism.

The headline in the hometown where I grew up last time I visited read ‘By-pass could be disaster, says vicar”. I guess they do stuggle for drama in villages, especially ones in which the Vicar has the last word on major works of construction and the by-pass — such a rocky road ahead. I like to imagine the eager journalist shouting at the Vicar in the square: ‘What about this by-pass, Father?’The Vicar, assuming a mourneful demeanour and leaning in to the journalist, lowers his voice as if to disclose some massive secret. He whispers, ‘it could be a disaster if I’m honest’. Bang! Headline of the week.

I guess I’m glad smaller towns don’t have London style news reports that vary from “Man bludgeoned to buggery, then thrown into a well” to “High speed train drops under 50mph, Keanu Reeves called into action”.

The best news is of course funny news though and the one above serves my point well.

Much Love,

T x

Uke.

Happy Easter and that.

I may be alone here but I have a strong urge now and again to hear ukelele. Mainly because in all art forms I am a minimalist. By that, I don’t mean I’m shit, I just love art and music forms in their rawest and purest form even on the twangiest instrument in the world. By that I don’t mean I like folk either. I simply mean arrangements that use the space as an instrument captivate me more than a messy canvas or a song that has twenty tracks on it.

So today I’m celebrating the Ukelele in all it’s irritating glory.

Amongst the enormous amount of shit ukelele covers on Youtube varying between some guy in his pants playing Paint It Black, some bird in her pants playing Third Eye Blind and some Australian dude in no pants singing Joy Division I came across the very talented TUR Orchestra. They did a cover of Red Hot Chili Pepper’s Dosed. It’s very pretty.

Did you enjoy that? I thought not, but I did so suck it.

Much love,

T x

With One’s Self

Last night I had a romantic night in with myself. Occassionally I think it’s important to do this. Good for the soul. After all, we know what we like best.

We watched 80′s classic; Sleeping With The Enemy which I found in the study in my flat. Then we had some ice cream with strawberries and shared a cigarette. The film was terrible…And I love the eighties. We agreed it didn’t matter what we were going to watch anyways as we were probably going to end up making out. By we I mean me. Just so we are clear.

During the film we heard a loud bang outside. I went to investigate as he was too much of a big jessie. Outside, a patio chair had fallen over where it had been leaning precariously against a tree.

‘No reason to be alarmed’- I called up to me, as I got back into bed and spooned with me. Then we made love. And once again, by we, I mean me.

Much love,

T x

You’re a man now my son.

So you’re a man now. You have the world at your finger tips. You’ve watched The Secret Of My Success and you own several garments of stone-washed clothing.

There are four things in life that make you a man. I’ve decided this now.

1. Build a brick a wall — preferably in a place that won’t be an irritant to anyone else (e.g public car park) or that won’t effectively brick yourself in.

2. Cut an umbilical cord / deliver a baby — preferably your own. Do not decide on a whim to do this to a stranger.

3. Admit infront of a small crowd of semi-familiar ‘White Van Men’ types that for a million pounds you would pleasure another man.

4. Eat one of those sausages from a corner shop fridge that look massively unappealing and dangerous — and ideally when paying, snort and then take a bite out of it infront of the shop assistant.

Now, I can’t talk really as out of them lot I’ve only eaten a sausage and admitted that I would whore myself for a fortune. But I think it’s important we strive for these things in life. We are after all…Men.

…And to you sir that has done all four manly tasks, may I just say- hats off.

Much love,

T x