Sweet Zombie Jesus

To celebrate Jesus rising from the grave to feed on the blood of the living, I ended up going to Transmission at the Alexandria Palace in North London. It's a behemoth of a place, perched atop a hill overlooking London. Majestic is probably a pretty good word to describe it. I'm too young to have gone to any proper old skool raves, so it turned out to be quite a mad experience - 10,000 fucked up gurners bouncing away with whistles, white gloves, glow sticks, horns, etcetera in a listed building, it's a cool way to spend a balmy spring evening. It'd been ages since I'd had a good dance, too. There's actual mobile phone footage of me in action, which is bound to be a laugh now the weekend has worn off.

In other news - I got one fucking paltry easter egg. And it was hollow, as usual. Imagine an easter egg that was like a Creme Egg, filled with sugary albumin and yolk - that'd fuck you with diabetes before you even got halfway through. That's the motherfucker I want to get my hands on.

My CDs arrived the other day, though I've only had a chance to listen to 65 Days of Static. Fuck me it's awesome - like Mogwai only a bit more immediate, and a bit more electronic. Rather than listen to the other new stuff, I decided to listen to the little fucking rabbit in my head instead - he told me to order Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake It's Morning, Bright Eyes - Digital Ash in a Digital Urn and Modey Lemon - Thunder and Lightning. I suppose the little cunt has a point, I really canny believe I don't own them yet.

Remember - remove the head or destroy the brain.