onionbagblog
Mondays Musings
David Bowie - 'Sound and Vision'
Strange to find the bandwagon hopping chameleon release an album at the fag end of 2003 which has the same title as his Greatest Hits tour some thirteen years ago - you know, the very same one where he wheeled out Major Tom, Ziggy and Aladdin for the VERY LAST TIME. Well lookey here then... Seems like despite endless reviews year after year which re-cycle the phrase 'Bowie's best album since Let's Dance,' there hasn't actually been anything of worth post 1983. To be fair to the South London geezer though, there was about fifteen minutes of magic on this years' hit and miss effort, Reality. As for this latest package, well, same old same really. If you don't already own Rebel Rebel, Young Americans and Ashes to Ashes then we should have lost you a long time ago. Nicely packaged up amongst four discs (count em - FOUR!!!!), and with a RRP at 40 quid plus, this should keep the old codger in Beno and Hedges for at least another year.
Muse - 'Hysteria'
Difficult to take a Freddie Mercury clone seriously now that we have the laugh a minute Darkness boys having a good time, ALL the time. If you can see beyond Matt Bellamy's comedy falsetto, outrageously camp piano breaks and his set of knashers that beam FREDDIE from one ear to the other, chances are that you don’t own a copy of Bohemian Rhapsody. Exactly what is the point of Muse as we approach 2004? If you want authenticity then back track to A Night at the Opera. If you want to act like a twat revelling in the irony of retro metal then The Darkness have already landed. Radio Ga Ga etc...
Will Young - 'Fridays Child'
Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Looks like Will got his days confused then.
All singles and albums are released today
Mass Mondays Musings
 |
| Monday 1 December, 2003 |
David Bowie - 'Sound and Vision'
Strange to find the bandwagon hopping chameleon release an album at the fag end of 2003 which has the same title as his Greatest Hits tour some thirteen years ago - you know, the very same one where he wheeled out Major Tom, Ziggy and Aladdin for the VERY LAST TIME. Well lookey here then... Seems like despite endless reviews year after year which re-cycle the phrase 'Bowie's best album since Let's Dance,' there hasn't actually been anything of worth post 1983. To be fair to the South London geezer though, there was about fifteen minutes of magic on this years' hit and miss effort, Reality. As for this latest package, well, same old same really. If you don't already own Rebel Rebel, Young Americans and Ashes to Ashes then we should have lost you a long time ago. Nicely packaged up amongst four discs (count em - FOUR!!!!), and with a RRP at 40 quid plus, this should keep the old codger in Beno and Hedges for at least another year.
Muse - 'Hysteria'
Difficult to take a Freddie Mercury clone seriously now that we have the laugh a minute Darkness boys having a good time, ALL the time. If you can see beyond Matt Bellamy's comedy falsetto, outrageously camp piano breaks and his set of knashers that beam FREDDIE from one ear to the other, chances are that you don’t own a copy of Bohemian Rhapsody. Exactly what is the point of Muse as we approach 2004? If you want authenticity then back track to A Night at the Opera. If you want to act like a twat revelling in the irony of retro metal then The Darkness have already landed. Radio Ga Ga etc...
Will Young - 'Fridays Child'
Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Looks like Will got his days confused then.
All singles and albums are released today
Mass Mondays Musings
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report
Streatham Redskins 5 Basingstoke Buffalo 2, 30/11/03
Old time hockey needn’t resort to blue collar teams grinding out a dump and chase bore of a game; the re-born Streatham Redskins are playing a fluent passing style of hockey, epitomised in the classy second goal for the home team during the first period with the puck being passed all around the High Road ice pad. A fluke of an own goal saw the Redskins go in with a 3:0 lead at the end of the first, and with a freshly made flask of tea in my hand and The Clash's Safe European Home booming out around the PA in the old barn, I was close to hockey heaven. Well, as close as you can be in Streatham. I almost stood up and applauded when the track came to an end, it really did sound that good. Buffalo forced their way back in the second period pulling back two goals, only for local boy Wayne Trunchion to seal a superb victory for Streatham with a breakaway wrap around effort in the third.
Highlight: Confirmation of the Redskins Christmas party later next month - bring it on!
Crap Match Report Compendium
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| Sunday 30 November, 2003 |
Streatham Redskins 5 Basingstoke Buffalo 2, 30/11/03
Old time hockey needn’t resort to blue collar teams grinding out a dump and chase bore of a game; the re-born Streatham Redskins are playing a fluent passing style of hockey, epitomised in the classy second goal for the home team during the first period with the puck being passed all around the High Road ice pad. A fluke of an own goal saw the Redskins go in with a 3:0 lead at the end of the first, and with a freshly made flask of tea in my hand and The Clash's Safe European Home booming out around the PA in the old barn, I was close to hockey heaven. Well, as close as you can be in Streatham. I almost stood up and applauded when the track came to an end, it really did sound that good. Buffalo forced their way back in the second period pulling back two goals, only for local boy Wayne Trunchion to seal a superb victory for Streatham with a breakaway wrap around effort in the third.
Highlight: Confirmation of the Redskins Christmas party later next month - bring it on!
Crap Match Report Compendium
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report
London Towers 81 Sheffield Sharks 90, 29/11/03
A packed Palace for the BBL Trophy semi-final double header. First out were the Towers on their home court taking on top of the table side the Sheffield Sharks. The visitors set the early pace with a 16-21 lead at the end of the first. In the second quarter the Sharks sunk a series of three pointers, taking control of the game 42-48 at the halfway stage. Yet another Robert Youngblood inspired comeback for the Towers in the third helped set up a frantic fourth quarter, with the Sharks putting on the pressure and eventually powering ahead at the end buzzer. Always look for the positive - the final will be televised live on Grandstand early in the New Year and the BBC will no doubt manage to fuck it up. Best off well out of it. Yeah right...
Lost interest in the second semi. Sour loser. Managed to make a packet of Minstrels last an entire game as I admired the dedication of the 200 or so travelling fans of the Scottish Rocks. Suddenly switched my allegiances to north of the border, just as the Jocks put in a fantastic comeback against the dirty Thames Valley Tigers; a three pointer at the buzzer took the game to overtime. The Tigers lost their nerve and our Scottish friends celebrated their imminent fame and fortune sharing the billing with live marbles on the BBC next year.
Basketball players are BIG muthas. The Towers did the meet n greet thing after their game but I thought it best not share my new found 'don’t give a toss that you lost' attitude with the seven footers.
Crap Match Report Compendium
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| Saturday 29 November, 2003 |
London Towers 81 Sheffield Sharks 90, 29/11/03
A packed Palace for the BBL Trophy semi-final double header. First out were the Towers on their home court taking on top of the table side the Sheffield Sharks. The visitors set the early pace with a 16-21 lead at the end of the first. In the second quarter the Sharks sunk a series of three pointers, taking control of the game 42-48 at the halfway stage. Yet another Robert Youngblood inspired comeback for the Towers in the third helped set up a frantic fourth quarter, with the Sharks putting on the pressure and eventually powering ahead at the end buzzer. Always look for the positive - the final will be televised live on Grandstand early in the New Year and the BBC will no doubt manage to fuck it up. Best off well out of it. Yeah right...
 Basketball players are BIG muthas |
Basketball players are BIG muthas. The Towers did the meet n greet thing after their game but I thought it best not share my new found 'don’t give a toss that you lost' attitude with the seven footers.
Crap Match Report Compendium
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Jobcentre Xmas Recruitment Dilema:
Too many bloody Santas again...
| Friday 28 November, 2003 |
Too many bloody Santas again...
| #permalink |
Is this the Biggest Spoonhead in Britain?
Right wing 'historian' (read: fairytale teller) and Daily Mail columnist Simon Heffer last smiled in public back in 1976. And that was only because Princess Anne won an Olympic silver medal.
Having just sat through 50 minutes of Question Time featuring fatty 'Hereford' Heffer, the question has to be asked:
Is this man the biggest spoonhead in Britain?
What can be done to raise a smile from the man who thought Schindler's List was on par with the Only Fools and Horses Christmas special? A return to capital punishment is not an option…
• Heffer should be forced to spend 96 hours largin it at Glastonbury. With Bez as his personal host.
• Sod that - actually he should be spoon fed some serious Class A's and then be asked to write his column for The Daily Mail. It may make more sense then.
• Heffer is crony of Michael Howard and shares his 'prison works' sentiment:
'Prison is not just supposed to be a deterrent. It is supposed to be a punishment. It is supposed to be the vehicle of the expression of society's disapproval of certain unpleasant crimes.'
Fine - a life sentence in Brixton nick then for the porky chopped Tory Boy on account of his crimes against journalism and general repugnant public behaviour. Perhaps he'll then see the funny side of slopping out.
• Michael Portillo recently spent a week living as a single 'mum' on a Liverpool council estate as part of a crass TV project / blatant vote grabber. Heffer should star in a follow up series, renting a piss-stained sofa in a Toxteth crack den with Brian Harvey. Laugh a minute reality TV guaranteed.
• Failing all this, Heffer should be a handed a copy of the Daily Mail with the Viz masthead inserted in place of the Mail's. Endless hours of fun seeing how long it takes him to spot the error.
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| Thursday 27 November, 2003 |
Right wing 'historian' (read: fairytale teller) and Daily Mail columnist Simon Heffer last smiled in public back in 1976. And that was only because Princess Anne won an Olympic silver medal.
Having just sat through 50 minutes of Question Time featuring fatty 'Hereford' Heffer, the question has to be asked:
Is this man the biggest spoonhead in Britain?
A life sentence in Brixton nick for the porky chopped Tory Boy |
• Heffer should be forced to spend 96 hours largin it at Glastonbury. With Bez as his personal host.
• Sod that - actually he should be spoon fed some serious Class A's and then be asked to write his column for The Daily Mail. It may make more sense then.
• Heffer is crony of Michael Howard and shares his 'prison works' sentiment:
'Prison is not just supposed to be a deterrent. It is supposed to be a punishment. It is supposed to be the vehicle of the expression of society's disapproval of certain unpleasant crimes.'
Fine - a life sentence in Brixton nick then for the porky chopped Tory Boy on account of his crimes against journalism and general repugnant public behaviour. Perhaps he'll then see the funny side of slopping out.
• Michael Portillo recently spent a week living as a single 'mum' on a Liverpool council estate as part of a crass TV project / blatant vote grabber. Heffer should star in a follow up series, renting a piss-stained sofa in a Toxteth crack den with Brian Harvey. Laugh a minute reality TV guaranteed.
• Failing all this, Heffer should be a handed a copy of the Daily Mail with the Viz masthead inserted in place of the Mail's. Endless hours of fun seeing how long it takes him to spot the error.
| #permalink |
Commandante Joe*
'Somewhere in my soul, there's always rock n roll' - Joe Strummer, Long Shadow
With the first anniversary of the death of Joe Strummer looming, now would be a good time to reflect upon the loss of Uncle Joe.
The impact of The Clash is without a doubt momentous in terms of modern music; the whole Punky Reggae Party kicked off over a can of Red Stripe with the boys from underneath the Westway hanging out with the Notting Hill rastas. The ease with which The Clash soaked up influences, notably dub and even hip hop is set in stone. No Garageland, no Bragg; no London Calling, no Manics; no Magnificent Seven, no Basement Jaxx.
Strummer's roaming years post Clash and pre Mescaleros are often forgotten as some extended lost weekend. But his presence and legacy were always there. Playing with the brew crew in support of Class War, goading the Mondays backstage at Glastonbury and remaining thoroughly shambolic yet still dignified. No Clash reunion, no looking back and still no fucking TOTP. Ever.
Uncle Joe's ability to remain in touch with reality and the changing world around him are a reminder as to how false the cult of celebrity is. When a tabloid star is made overnight after some reality TV show shit, now is the time that we really miss Joe Strummer.
Joe's loss was immense to family and fans alike. On a purely artistic level though the real tragedy is that he had got his act together towards the end and left us on a creative high. Recorded during his final few months, Streetcore is the best of his three solo releases and comes close to matching The Clash at their best. Not the words of someone not wanting to bad mouth the dead, but the truth. Streetcore ROCKS.
The album is tinged with the double irony of featuring another rare untouchable artist who joined Joe this year up in the great Hall of Fame in the sky, no doubt flicking V signs to Lennon, Hendrix, Morrison and all the other fucked up rock junkie wasters. Johnny Cash joins Strummer on the album for a cover of Redemption Song. The two men in black achieve almost the impossible of pissing all over the Marley classic. Who else could have got away with this? Will fucking Young? Save the best till last boys.
I never got to see The Clash and I was always sceptical of all the mythical bullshit floating around about nights at The Rainbow, Rock Against Racism at Brockwell Park and impromptu busking sessions up and down the country. I did manage to catch Strummer and the Mescaleros however two years ago at the laughably Irish themed Fleadh at Finsbury Park.
Here was a man who was not ashamed of his past but still had something to say. No Pistols pantomime punk - the old classics were still given a 100mph rendition and Strummer was clearly worked up over something. Maybe he was always worked up over something? What a beautiful state to be in. Always believing, never surrendering.
'You cast a long shadow and that is my testament' - Joe Strummer
*Title of the excellent poem by Attila the Stockbroker
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| Wednesday 26 November, 2003 |
'Somewhere in my soul, there's always rock n roll' - Joe Strummer, Long Shadow
With the first anniversary of the death of Joe Strummer looming, now would be a good time to reflect upon the loss of Uncle Joe.
The impact of The Clash is without a doubt momentous in terms of modern music; the whole Punky Reggae Party kicked off over a can of Red Stripe with the boys from underneath the Westway hanging out with the Notting Hill rastas. The ease with which The Clash soaked up influences, notably dub and even hip hop is set in stone. No Garageland, no Bragg; no London Calling, no Manics; no Magnificent Seven, no Basement Jaxx.
No Clash reunion, no looking back and still no fucking TOTP. Ever. |
Uncle Joe's ability to remain in touch with reality and the changing world around him are a reminder as to how false the cult of celebrity is. When a tabloid star is made overnight after some reality TV show shit, now is the time that we really miss Joe Strummer.
Joe's loss was immense to family and fans alike. On a purely artistic level though the real tragedy is that he had got his act together towards the end and left us on a creative high. Recorded during his final few months, Streetcore is the best of his three solo releases and comes close to matching The Clash at their best. Not the words of someone not wanting to bad mouth the dead, but the truth. Streetcore ROCKS.
The album is tinged with the double irony of featuring another rare untouchable artist who joined Joe this year up in the great Hall of Fame in the sky, no doubt flicking V signs to Lennon, Hendrix, Morrison and all the other fucked up rock junkie wasters. Johnny Cash joins Strummer on the album for a cover of Redemption Song. The two men in black achieve almost the impossible of pissing all over the Marley classic. Who else could have got away with this? Will fucking Young? Save the best till last boys.
I never got to see The Clash and I was always sceptical of all the mythical bullshit floating around about nights at The Rainbow, Rock Against Racism at Brockwell Park and impromptu busking sessions up and down the country. I did manage to catch Strummer and the Mescaleros however two years ago at the laughably Irish themed Fleadh at Finsbury Park.
Here was a man who was not ashamed of his past but still had something to say. No Pistols pantomime punk - the old classics were still given a 100mph rendition and Strummer was clearly worked up over something. Maybe he was always worked up over something? What a beautiful state to be in. Always believing, never surrendering.
'You cast a long shadow and that is my testament' - Joe Strummer
*Title of the excellent poem by Attila the Stockbroker
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report
Dulwich Hamlet 1 Tooting and Mitcham 1, 25/11/03
Dulwich in the pissing rain, Arsenal at home on TV with a pizza? Looks like I lost the toss. And so it was that with conditions resembling boarding day for Noah and his Ark, we welcomed the team down to Champion Hill who inspired the legendary 'you're worse than Tooting and Mitcham' chant. And what do you know, Tooting and Mitcham were indeed worse than Tooting and Mitcham. Dontcha just love local derbies? This is THE fixture all Hamlet fans look out for and the boys in pink n blue didn't disappoint. Well, they played an honest 90 minutes, but didn't hold back in joining in the mass scrum midway though the first half. Our 'friends' from South London took the lead with a keeper error only for Hamlet to equalise with a classic goal mouth scramble. They all count. Get in there. And Tooting are still crap.
Crap Match Report Compendium
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| Tuesday 25 November, 2003 |
Dulwich Hamlet 1 Tooting and Mitcham 1, 25/11/03
Dulwich in the pissing rain, Arsenal at home on TV with a pizza? Looks like I lost the toss. And so it was that with conditions resembling boarding day for Noah and his Ark, we welcomed the team down to Champion Hill who inspired the legendary 'you're worse than Tooting and Mitcham' chant. And what do you know, Tooting and Mitcham were indeed worse than Tooting and Mitcham. Dontcha just love local derbies? This is THE fixture all Hamlet fans look out for and the boys in pink n blue didn't disappoint. Well, they played an honest 90 minutes, but didn't hold back in joining in the mass scrum midway though the first half. Our 'friends' from South London took the lead with a keeper error only for Hamlet to equalise with a classic goal mouth scramble. They all count. Get in there. And Tooting are still crap.
Crap Match Report Compendium
| #permalink |
Great Balls of Fire
Sun sets over Tate Modern
A damp and dreary late November has been transformed to become a midsummer mist adding a hazy and warm feel to the the Tate Modern. Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project installation creates a giant replica of the sun in the vast Turbine Hall space.
Using nothing but mono frequency lamps and some pumped in mist (probably on loan from the Darkness' stage set), the heat wave of the summer 2003 can be experienced in all its blaze of glory yet again, minus underarm wet patches of course.
The English fascination with the weather as a topic for mundane conversation sits perfectly down at Bankside; where else could you enter a manufactured environment and the main choice of chat with a complete stranger is still: 'Nice weather we're having, isn't it?'
The beauty of the installation, apart from the obvious physical attraction towards a surrogate Sun, is the way that the public have interacted with it; part of the installation is a reflective ceiling which aids the transformation from a vast empty turbine hall to a desert mirage effect.
This reflection projects whatever is happening on the ground level of the Turbine Hall up onto the ceiling above; form a circle of human bodies on the floor and you will see a circle above. Spell out the words GO HOME BUSH in the same style as a crappy Halifax TV advert by laying out the necessary bodies on the floor, and you are generating a new meaning to the work.
This is wonderful example of art being interpreted and actively used by the 'consumers' to shape and re-direct the way that it is appreciated.
My lunchtime visit coincided with a number of school trips where the kids had got wise to the fact that sitting around and forming a human circle was not nearly as exciting as projecting FUCK OFF in giant letters above. All in the name of education Miss, honest.
The Weather Project can be viewed at the Tate Modern until 24 March, 2004. Don't forget your shades, dude.
More discussion here.
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| Monday 24 November, 2003 |
Sun sets over Tate Modern
A damp and dreary late November has been transformed to become a midsummer mist adding a hazy and warm feel to the the Tate Modern. Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project installation creates a giant replica of the sun in the vast Turbine Hall space.
Using nothing but mono frequency lamps and some pumped in mist (probably on loan from the Darkness' stage set), the heat wave of the summer 2003 can be experienced in all its blaze of glory yet again, minus underarm wet patches of course.
Nice weather we're having, isn't it? |
The beauty of the installation, apart from the obvious physical attraction towards a surrogate Sun, is the way that the public have interacted with it; part of the installation is a reflective ceiling which aids the transformation from a vast empty turbine hall to a desert mirage effect.
This reflection projects whatever is happening on the ground level of the Turbine Hall up onto the ceiling above; form a circle of human bodies on the floor and you will see a circle above. Spell out the words GO HOME BUSH in the same style as a crappy Halifax TV advert by laying out the necessary bodies on the floor, and you are generating a new meaning to the work.
This is wonderful example of art being interpreted and actively used by the 'consumers' to shape and re-direct the way that it is appreciated.
My lunchtime visit coincided with a number of school trips where the kids had got wise to the fact that sitting around and forming a human circle was not nearly as exciting as projecting FUCK OFF in giant letters above. All in the name of education Miss, honest.
The Weather Project can be viewed at the Tate Modern until 24 March, 2004. Don't forget your shades, dude.
More discussion here.
| #permalink |
Vauxhall and I
I have a strange relationship with Vauxhall mainline station ; it may be the gateway to the South opening up endless travel options taking me to exotic locations such as Tolworth, Motspur Park and Woking, but the platform reeks of piss.
Many a missed train moment has been passed away listening to yet another faceless pathetic apology from South West trains being played out over the tannoy:
'I'm sorry for the delay in your journey.'
Well I'm sorry, but that just isn't good enough. I don't want some Mr Voice Over Man stuck on a tape loop playing me a feel good message. Having paid for my journey that will ultimately lead to personal bonuses being paid out to the management of the train operator rip off companies, I expect the pin stripes to patrol the platform and offer me a public apology.
Vauxhall station though provides the stranded traveller with many other wonderful options to help pass the time, all thrown in with a unique South London aroma wafting down the Thames and spreading throughout the urine infested platforms.
Smells like teen spirit, etc etc.
SW8 is home to the most public of open art spaces with Vauxhall station providing the perfect canvas for South London's graffiti artist kids to display their work. You don't need to watch (and understand) Late Review to appreciate the graffiti on show at the station. The images capture South London and all the diversity within the area perfectly and are probably seen by more people than some of the more conservative efforts found within the National Gallery.
Here's a selection of the works of arts currently on display:
I love the graffiti artist code of conduct on show here; kids with sprays can are not mindless thugs who will tag anything that resembles a blank canvas. There is genuine respect for another artist's work and pictures are left alone in their original form.
The walls opposite platform eight at Vauxhall station provide the perfect canvass for a piece of public art. The designers of the station even had the foresight to provide a framed brick wall for future generations of graffiti kids ;-)
All artists are unknown (to me). Don't expect canopies and cocktails during your visit to the gallery. The open space does boast ample public toilets though.
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| Sunday 23 November, 2003 |
I have a strange relationship with Vauxhall mainline station ; it may be the gateway to the South opening up endless travel options taking me to exotic locations such as Tolworth, Motspur Park and Woking, but the platform reeks of piss.
Many a missed train moment has been passed away listening to yet another faceless pathetic apology from South West trains being played out over the tannoy:
Don't expect canopies and cocktails during your visit to the gallery |
Well I'm sorry, but that just isn't good enough. I don't want some Mr Voice Over Man stuck on a tape loop playing me a feel good message. Having paid for my journey that will ultimately lead to personal bonuses being paid out to the management of the train operator rip off companies, I expect the pin stripes to patrol the platform and offer me a public apology.
Vauxhall station though provides the stranded traveller with many other wonderful options to help pass the time, all thrown in with a unique South London aroma wafting down the Thames and spreading throughout the urine infested platforms.
Smells like teen spirit, etc etc.
SW8 is home to the most public of open art spaces with Vauxhall station providing the perfect canvas for South London's graffiti artist kids to display their work. You don't need to watch (and understand) Late Review to appreciate the graffiti on show at the station. The images capture South London and all the diversity within the area perfectly and are probably seen by more people than some of the more conservative efforts found within the National Gallery.
Here's a selection of the works of arts currently on display:
I love the graffiti artist code of conduct on show here; kids with sprays can are not mindless thugs who will tag anything that resembles a blank canvas. There is genuine respect for another artist's work and pictures are left alone in their original form.
The walls opposite platform eight at Vauxhall station provide the perfect canvass for a piece of public art. The designers of the station even had the foresight to provide a framed brick wall for future generations of graffiti kids ;-)
All artists are unknown (to me). Don't expect canopies and cocktails during your visit to the gallery. The open space does boast ample public toilets though.
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report
London Towers 91 Milton Keynes Lions 81, 22/11/03
The opening minutes of the first quarter were more like a game of hockey with the ever reliable Milton Keynes team displaying their usual gooning tactics. A very physical game with Jamison in particular for the Lions trying to take out Sneed for the Towers. The home team raced ahead with a succession of three pointers being coolly sunk by Youngblood, justifying the hero status that the Tower's #9 has built up over the past two seasons. A good warm-up ahead of next week's semi against the Sharks. Reminders to self: Forfeit the front of court seat in future if only to avoid the pesky little kid who seems to think that basketball is a game that involves constantly kicking the bloke sitting in front of you. I blame the parents, but judging by the Old Man's appearance, the spoilt brat hasn't got a lot to look forward to in later life.
Crap Match Report Compendium
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| Saturday 22 November, 2003 |
London Towers 91 Milton Keynes Lions 81, 22/11/03
The opening minutes of the first quarter were more like a game of hockey with the ever reliable Milton Keynes team displaying their usual gooning tactics. A very physical game with Jamison in particular for the Lions trying to take out Sneed for the Towers. The home team raced ahead with a succession of three pointers being coolly sunk by Youngblood, justifying the hero status that the Tower's #9 has built up over the past two seasons. A good warm-up ahead of next week's semi against the Sharks. Reminders to self: Forfeit the front of court seat in future if only to avoid the pesky little kid who seems to think that basketball is a game that involves constantly kicking the bloke sitting in front of you. I blame the parents, but judging by the Old Man's appearance, the spoilt brat hasn't got a lot to look forward to in later life.
Crap Match Report Compendium
| #permalink |
An American War Wolf in London
Reflections on a day of peaceful protest.
The mainstream media has made out that staging an anti-Bush demo on the same day of the terrorist atrocities in Instanbul was misguided. Endless ill-informed opinions were up for rent yesterday by an increasingly desperate bunch of career politicians, media whores and war criminal apologists. Sycophants united behind the ugly business of war - not the most pleasant prime time viewing.
'Ahh yes but if you lived in Baghdad you wouldn't have the chance to demonstrate...' Blah blah blah, and please piss off to the isolated and blinkered little corner of the fantasy Imperialist world that you seem to live in. Is that the only damn argument you've got? And just exactly how much democracy exists in Baghdad central right now? Blinkers off please and take a look at what is happening around you.
Accusations that the protestors fail to see the wider picture are nothing but an own goal for the war mongers. How can they fail to see that by bombing a country for no other reason than capitalist greed is going to generate an anti-West rhetoric? The War against Terror is a war you can't win and as Istanbul so tragically proved, bombs will be met with more bombs.
That's precisely why the largest ever gathering of people in this country for a weekday protest took to the streets yesterday to plead with Blair and Bush to stop putting themselves up as High Sheriff and his insignificant little Deputy Dawg of the world.
The march itself felt even more poignant following the Turkey bombings only hours earlier. Arriving at Euston just after the 2pm start, it took me more than an hour and a half to move with the rest of the crowd through the back streets of North London until we hit the bright lights of Holborn.
The route laid down by the Police was strange; what was the thinking in crossing the river at Waterloo, cutting along York Road and then backtracking up Westminster? What exactly is so threatening about a well behaved peaceful protest (27 arrests out of 110,000 - a relative picnic for the police compared to a day out at Twickenham) making their way up The Strand to reach Trafalgar Square?
I finally reached Westminster at 5.30 and the sheer volume of the crowd meant that I missed out on the spectacular toppling of George Jnr, even if the 25 foot gold statue looked more like a sex toy prop from Honey I Blew up the Kids. Insert your own dickhead jokes, etc etc.
110,000 (and that was the official Police estimate) is a mighty fine turnout for a cold Thursday afternoon in November. It's considerably more than the Uncle Sam Stars and Stripes brigade who looked a lonely bunch scattered around the Mall on the lookout for a President in hiding. So much for the State Visit - this was more like a game of Monopoly around the capital with Dubya taking on the character of the Invisible Man.
And so what have we learnt at the end of three days of pomp and pageant? George Jnr is a frightened and lonely man who is afraid to put his arguments over to the public; obviously a technique he groomed during his own fraudulent election campaign. Tony Tony Tony has the look of a condemned man ahead of the Hutton Enquiry findings. This was all about an exit strategy and the State visit was nothing but a job interview for Blair as he seeks work experience within the twisted Bush family arms empire. And the Royals? Nice to know that the long established family tradition of mixing it with global thugs is still being upheld.
Useless tossers. The lot of them.
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| Friday 21 November, 2003 |
Reflections on a day of peaceful protest.
The mainstream media has made out that staging an anti-Bush demo on the same day of the terrorist atrocities in Instanbul was misguided. Endless ill-informed opinions were up for rent yesterday by an increasingly desperate bunch of career politicians, media whores and war criminal apologists. Sycophants united behind the ugly business of war - not the most pleasant prime time viewing.
Useless tossers. The lot of them |
Accusations that the protestors fail to see the wider picture are nothing but an own goal for the war mongers. How can they fail to see that by bombing a country for no other reason than capitalist greed is going to generate an anti-West rhetoric? The War against Terror is a war you can't win and as Istanbul so tragically proved, bombs will be met with more bombs.
That's precisely why the largest ever gathering of people in this country for a weekday protest took to the streets yesterday to plead with Blair and Bush to stop putting themselves up as High Sheriff and his insignificant little Deputy Dawg of the world.
The march itself felt even more poignant following the Turkey bombings only hours earlier. Arriving at Euston just after the 2pm start, it took me more than an hour and a half to move with the rest of the crowd through the back streets of North London until we hit the bright lights of Holborn.
The route laid down by the Police was strange; what was the thinking in crossing the river at Waterloo, cutting along York Road and then backtracking up Westminster? What exactly is so threatening about a well behaved peaceful protest (27 arrests out of 110,000 - a relative picnic for the police compared to a day out at Twickenham) making their way up The Strand to reach Trafalgar Square?
I finally reached Westminster at 5.30 and the sheer volume of the crowd meant that I missed out on the spectacular toppling of George Jnr, even if the 25 foot gold statue looked more like a sex toy prop from Honey I Blew up the Kids. Insert your own dickhead jokes, etc etc.
110,000 (and that was the official Police estimate) is a mighty fine turnout for a cold Thursday afternoon in November. It's considerably more than the Uncle Sam Stars and Stripes brigade who looked a lonely bunch scattered around the Mall on the lookout for a President in hiding. So much for the State Visit - this was more like a game of Monopoly around the capital with Dubya taking on the character of the Invisible Man.
And so what have we learnt at the end of three days of pomp and pageant? George Jnr is a frightened and lonely man who is afraid to put his arguments over to the public; obviously a technique he groomed during his own fraudulent election campaign. Tony Tony Tony has the look of a condemned man ahead of the Hutton Enquiry findings. This was all about an exit strategy and the State visit was nothing but a job interview for Blair as he seeks work experience within the twisted Bush family arms empire. And the Royals? Nice to know that the long established family tradition of mixing it with global thugs is still being upheld.
Useless tossers. The lot of them.
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