Don we now our gay apparel

Happy Fucking Christmas

Diagnosis : Music

Hogmany is fast approaching and 2005 is drawing to close. Now is the time for the music critics, the journalists, the celebrity DJs and presenters and the average everyday music fans to come scurrying out of the woodwork and force their music tastes on a disinterested public. Now is the time for "Best Albums 0f 2005" lists, and their brethren, to run rampant across all forms of media. And this particular shit pool of the media is no different.

I present to you:

"17 Albums Which Were Released
In 2005 And Were Very Good"
(It's probably in order, but who can really say?)

1. Xiu Xiu - La Foret
2. Sigur Ros - Takk
3. 65daysofstatic - One Time For All Time
4. Arab Strap - The Last Romance
5. Buck 65 - Secret House Against the World
6. Maximo Park - A Certain Trigger
7. Minotaur Shock - Maritime
8. HORSE the band - The Mechanical Hand
9. Vitalic - OK Cowboy
10. Kevin Blechdom - Eat My Heart Out
11. Patrick Wolf - Wind in the Wires
12. LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem
13. DJ Koze - Kosi Comes Around
14. DJ Scotch Egg - KFC Core
15. Jason Forrest - Shamelessly Exciting
16. Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
17. Hrvatski - Irrevocably Overdriven Break Freakout Megamix

I'm pretty sure that's way it should look, but there's still some time left in the year for a young pretender to stake a claim. Here's the 'Honourable Mentions' and why they missed the cut:

• kid606 - Done With The Scene EP : it's an EP, innit? So, not technically an album, so not on the list. Still fucking awesome though
• Arcade Fire - Funeral : I've not listened to this enough for it be included. It is good, though. Oh, another thing, I'm pretty sure this was released in 2004?!?
• Fantomas / Melt-Banana [Split CD on Unhip Records] : well, this only clocks in at about 3 minutes long, so I could never justify listing it. It is cool as fuck, though
• Animal Collective - Feels : again, I've not listened to this enough, either, but after seeing them live earlier this year, I had to give them a mention
• Test Icicles - For Screening Purposes Only : see above. Fucking shite name, though. Band and album
• Death From Above 1979 - You're A Woman, I'm A Machine : much like Arcade Fire, I'm pretty sure this was released in 2004

So that's about it. I may come back and edit some comments onto the list, it looks a little sparse at the moment, but other than that, we're done here. I've got a big fuck-off pile of CDs strewn about my room now, and will spend the next hour meticulously putting them back in the right order. I love my life.

I'm sorry, but what's creative about further harshening tequila?

A couple of years back, at Christmas I made this monstrosity:



That's two hot-ass motherfuckin' chillis, tops cut off, then left in a bottle of Smirnoff in a dark cupboard for a 2 months.

On Christmas Day my Mum decided it would be a good idea to harrass my wee brother's pals into doing shots of it. Jesus fucking Christ I thought we were going to have to go to the hospital. After sampling it straight myself, the only word I could use to describe it would be 'AHHHHHH! Dear God why are my lips not made of asbestos? Why God, why the pain? Take my eyes, take my fingers, take my balls, just stop the burning fucking agony'.

My ex did say it made an awesome Bloody Mary, though. Through her burns mask.

This year, rather than use pure, pussy, untainted vodka I'm going to do it slightly differently. I'm doing it with dirty, dirty, slutty tequila. Two chillis rammed up her and papped in the cupboard for a while, that'll get her all hot and heavy. I canny wait to dish it out on Jesus' birthday.

Feeling quite zlaradno

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I've abandoned this blog, and my life, and ran off with Cappy, my gorgeous kangaroo concubine. You'd be dead wrong... though she does look lovely in taupe lipstick and kitten heels, and she is always asking me to come away with her. Anyways - I've had three weeks off work; three weeks of laziness, drunkenness, debauchery and only minimal creative output, so I've not really had much of worth to write about.

That's not to say that even minimal creative output isn't a huge step up for me. I managed to actually get some music done, which was a bit of a shock. I also got some t-shirts designed, and there will soon be a website selling said designs, in the near future. Not entirely my thing, my good buddy is doing shirts too and is in the process of doing the site, but it should be cool. See if you can find a link on this page, you fucking internet detective, you.

Since 2005 is drawing to close I'll be compiling my end of year album list, which may or may not be of interest to any of you fuckers. All the cool kids do it, and I've done one the last few years, so it would be churlish of me to miss it out this year. There's been some awesome shit released, though I haven't bought my usual amount of CDs this year. Still - it'll be hard to whittle it down to 20.....24.

On the first of January last year I started a daft wee project (well, I say wee - it has been a year long thing), which I expected to get bored with, but which looks like it's going to arrive at completion come the first day of 2006. I'm gonna start fucking around with that very soon, and if it looks vaguely interesting I may put some parts of it up here. Oo - cryptic.

Fun Fact:
Irritating as fuck, kids programme Bodger and Badger was originally pitched as a saucy late night farce, entitled Todger and Badger. It would follow the misadventures of a tatty badger puppet and a large foam phallus as they embroiled themselves in all sorts of hilarious japes. When it was picked up by the BBC and switched to a pre-watershed timeslot, it had to drop most of the racier elements; but some traces do remain. The creamy 'mashed potato' facials, for instance.

That's yer lot - cock off

A little late, he staggered through

Since this blog is almost one year old, and this DJ Scotch Egg album I have on isn't really conducive to shitting out new content, I think I'll do the lazy and thing and link to some of my favourite posts of the last year. 'Cos, you know, I'm a literary genius and some of this pish needs a second airing.

The Early Life of Venetian Snares - this is all 100% true, I swear to fuck

Shoelace Tension Discrepancy - The Facts - who says only the children and the spastics have trouble tying their laces?

Science! Part 1 - shit, I forgot about this. I really must try and do it one of these days

schlechte Tätowierung - wherein I rant about Friendster

They all float down here - spending an hour in a floatation tank.....I'm such a fucking hippy sometimes

Scuppered at the last hurdle? - yes yes, I'm worried that god is videotaping all my hilarious fuck-ups to he can show them to me upon my demise

Some advice - last but not least. Come have a look at my most ill advised rant which garnered more feedback than anything else I've written

That's your lot. Everything else I've written has been fucking dire. Indeed, most of the stuff linked to above is shitty too. A good writer is not me. Enjoy

"The air was continuously alive with gay synthetic melodies"

Whenever I come back from Glasgow I always feel (and look) like I've been raped in the face with a bus. I've been back about 3 or 4 days and only now do I have the strength to type out any sort of coherent shite.

So yeah - Animal Collective in Glasgow was a laugh riot, they were really fucking good and odd and good. Pick up their new album if you like, I won't fucking bother. I went to see my current favourite band 65daysofstatic on Wednesday night, and spent a fuckton of the Queen's pounds on merchandise. Christ, I've probably got a 65daysofstatic toothbrush kicking around somewhere. They rocked the fuck out of the place for what felt like an hour and half (it may have been a wee bit longer or shorter, 'twas hard to tell), playing pretty much everything off their first album and some great stuff from the new album.

On Thursday I went to the NFT to a thing called Antenna, where they show new music videos. Who was on the panel? None other than Spike Motherfuckin' Jonze. Jesus Christ. He was a bit nervous and shit, I think he must be terrified of people, but he came across as a likeable, talented guy and he provided the people questioning him with nice wee anecdotes as answers to their questions. Garth Jennings (part of Hammer & Tongs) was there, too, and he was one funny fuck - he looked incredibly comfortable up there on stage, witty bastard. In addition to the star studded Q&A, they showed some awesome new videos, the highlights being Tiga's new one, and one from Venetian Snares' new album. The track itself was a sub-par orchestral Squarepusher rip-off (I'm not that keen on the album...as a whole), but it was saved by a moody, inventive and downright crafty video. Shit, have I just badmouthed my hero on national internet?

As a companion piece to my Amazon list, "CDs I Lost When I Went Back To Glasgow And Got Drunk", I've just knocked this bad boy up:

"DVDs I lost when I went back to Glasgow when I went back to Glasgow and got drunk"

Yes kids, that's right - my idiot tax is increasing. Bye for now

Welcome to the afterfuture

I was standing there, in the toilets of the moving train, handrail in one hand, cock in the other, trying desperately not to get piss all up and down myself, when it came to me - Sprayvy! Aerosol gravy. I swear to fuck it could revolutionise the food service industry. I want to be known as the "Aerosol Gravy Magnate", how cool would that be?

On to more pressing matters. I'm back in Glasgow, and I got tattoo number 3 today. Fuck me gently with a chiansaw, it is badass. I would furnish you all with a photo, but I forgot my digital camera, and it's still a little raw and I canny get a decent photograph of it with my phone. Also, I was away seeing Japanese darlings Afrirampo last night. Christ they know how to rock. I really must get everything they've ever done.

I'll leave you with this poem, about the joys of seducing a ferret:

Oh handsome ferret with your eyes so blue
That watch me dance in front of you
Lying, supine, on your back
You watch me head to the red wine rack
With Beaujolais, I dash back quick
And out, you've got, your ferret dick

I think we'll leave that one right there.

"Okay, I need one each of the following tapes"

• Whispers In The Wind
• To Each His Own
• Put It Where It Doesn't Belong
• My Pipes Need Cleaning
• All Tit-Fucking : Volume 8
• I Need Your Cock
• Ass-Worshipping Rim-Jobbers
• My Cunt Needs Shafts
• Cum Clean
• Cum-Gargling Naked Sluts
• Cum Buns 3
• Cumming In Socks
• Cum On Eileen
• Huge Black Cocks With Pearly White Come
• Girls Who Crave Cock
• Girls Who Crave Cunt
• Men Alone 2 : The KY Connection
• Pink Pussy Lips
• All Holes Filled With Hard Cocks
• Happy Scrappy Hero Pup
  

Mistaken Tourist

Just out of curiosity (and also to satisfy my planet sized ego) I signed up to one of those sites that track visitors to your blog/website/hilarious toast eBay auction. Fuck me, over the past few weeks I've realised - there are actually people that read this shit on a (semi) regular basis. More than I would ever have guessed.

I'd like to give a big shout to the lone guy from Vietnam who checks it every week, and the sick fucking bastard who got here via a referral from some search engine while looking for "gay pictures of Optimus Prime". You, sir, are a class act.

I pretty much just got pissed off my fucking arse for my birthday. Drunk Marc was in full effect. And I didn't get many presents at all. Being 25 sucks almost as much as this lame ass blog entry.

Back to Glasgow on Tuesday. Hopefully I'll have something humourous to say then. Maybe I can punch a nun in the cunt on the train up, or something. I'm sure that'd get a few hits from Google.

Oiseau mort

Hey fuckheads, how's things? God almighty, there is something wrong with me, I swear to fuck. Almost 25, and now, now of all fucking times, a wisdom tooth decides it's going to start putting in an appearance. What the hell?

Anyways - I've managed to pull my shit together to actually get a ticket to see Squarepusher, so that's one out of the list of many that I'll definately be going to. Whoop-de-fucking-do. God, I hope he steers clear of playing anything off Ultravisitor. Also in keeping with the 'got my shit together' theme, I've pretty much finished designing the new tattoo I want for my birthday. Don't worry - you'll see it when it's fucking done. Christ you're impatient.

Right, onto the point of this update ('cos these updates always have some awesome purpose) - I've been seeing an awful lot of dead pigeons kicking around the pavements of London recently, so I did what any self respecting halfwit would do; I started documenting them with my phone camera. This is the first one I took, the day John Peel died:



The quality isn't too hot, but I'll make up for that by showing you my favourite one so far:





If you click on that picture, you can have a higher resolution copy of it. Though, why in the fuck you'd want that I don't know. You sick fucking bastard. Do you think he died of lung cancer? Maybe that's the last pack of fags he ever smoked, sitting right there next to him. Will the tobacco companies stop at nothing?

If I get anymore good pictures of dead pigeons, you'll be the first to know.

Cometh the month, cometh the man

As 2005 rampages towards its inevitable, logical conclusion (an inappropriate drunken pawing at a Hogmany party), we draw ever closer to Rocktober - the month of my birth. I will be a quarter of a century old this year, and I still have the brain, thoughts, sexual desires and hand-eye coordination of a high-voiced acne-ridden 16 year old. We men never fully grow up, do we? It's sad really - women my age are thinking about babies, marriage, buying a house, and here I am wondering what Playstation 2 game I want for my birthday (The Warriors, if you were wondering), and whether or not my chocolate cake should have a He-Man made of icing on it, or an Optimus Prime.

I'm a fucking a child, basically.

But enough of this maudlin nonsense, what I really want to talk about is gigs. Oh yes. Gigs. Due to my inability to get time off to go back to Glasgow for Instal, I've been keeping my eyes peeled for some hot shit down here in sunny London. Here's what I've found:

• 26 October - Rhythm Factory

65daysofstatic & Youthmovie Soundtrack Strategies

Not only are 65daysofstatic releasing a new album, but they are fucking touring too. Ahhh. Having only heard about them at the beginning of the year, they have quickly become one of my favourite bands. Get yourself along to one of the other UK shows (or this one) for a heavy dose of post-rock breakcore nonsense.

• 31 October - Scala

Patrick Wolf & Friends Halloween Spooktacular

Patrick is supporting Bloc Party all over the land, but if you want to see him headline this seems to be your only chance for a while. The Bloc Party dates are all sold out anyway, I think. Expect him to be dressed as a gay Robin Hood-esque goth while he belts out his angsty electro-ballads. Probably.

• 04 November - Cargo

Minotaur Shock, Radioactive Man & more

Folktronica is such a dirty word. But hey, if lazy journalists can use it - so the fuck can I (and I can split infinitives with profanity too). Minotaur Shock is fucking awesome, and is supposedly named after a discredited type of therapy that they used to dish out to mental patients during less enlightened times. The head doctor would charge into the lunatic's room, gibbering, with a minotaur mask on. Yeah, that'll cure them. Radioactive Man, too. That's all I gotta say.

• 04 November - Overkill @ Elektrowerks II

Mistress, Trencher, Charlottefield, Modeselektor, Tim Exile, Phil Collins 3, Sharkattack, Ceephax, Shitmat, V/Vm, DJ Scotch Egg, The Gasman, Chevron, Ebola, Mully & Bunglegushcore, Miss Hawaii, Cutting Pink With Knives, Ommm, Romvelope, D/J Rupture

Jesus Cunting Christ. That line up makes me want to weep with joy. Almost every one of my favourite (at the moment) electronic artists (ok, so VSnares and Jason Forrest ain't there, but don't be nitpicky) are playing this gig. I'll really only be going the Minotaur Shock gig if I canny find someone who'll go to this with me. I reckon this could kill the last vestiges of adequate hearing I have left. Jesus...just...Jesus.

• 05 November - Camden Barfly

Robots In Disguise & more

The 2 chicks from the Mighty Boosh (Electro, Nanageddon and probably another couple of episodes too) will be dishing out their brand of punk-funk to the drunken Camden bastards. Lovely.

• 14 November - Trash @ The End

TIGA! Erol Alkan will probably be there too

If ever there was a time to make an effort to go to Trash, it would be this night. It will be oh so very trendy. And gay. Very very gay.

• 17 November - Koko

Squarepusher & Luke Vibert

Having never seen Squarepusher, I really should try and make this. I'm just worried he'll only play stuff from his most recent album (Ultravisitor), which I thought was shit. Luke Vibert is cool though.

Now, going by my track record I reckon I'll make it to one, maybe two of these nights. Why oh why must I be so fucking shite? Because I'm a fucking wean trapped in the body of a slightly bemused adult.

Come on, birthday. Come on

Attention Whoring Worldwide

What the fuck is going on in this world? Seriously? What did people do before God blighted us with the dull fuckery that is Myspace? Have you seen this shit? "My e-penis is so much bigger than yours - I have 144 friends". But how many of them have you actually met, dickbag?

I canny talk. I've just started a Myspace page. Yet another repository for lists of my favourite films and music, pictures of me in 'uproarious' situations, links to pages of people whom I DO NOT KNOW and occasionally links to, wait for it... actual real life friends. Gasp.

Friendster is bad enough, but Myspace lets you fuck about with the layout of your page. There are literally millions of identikit emo-bawbag's pages filled with shitty pictures, bad, bad embedded mallcore MP3s and impossible-to-read black on dark blue text.

But you know all of this, because you have a Myspace page too, don't you. Every fucker and their pet spastic has a page. It's going to hit critical mass at some point in the near future - every Myspace user is going to be friends with every other Myspace user, wasting away years of their lives exchanging poorly written comments with one another while drooling over their keyboards. "OH MY GAWD, U R SOOO HAWT IN DAT PIC"

Maybe I'm getting a bit old and jaded, but these social networking things are really starting to grind my gears. I have no use for them whatsoever - I don't use them to keep in touch with mates (I use phones and email for that), they're basically just more ammo for a future stalker. But I will continue to sign up, I will continue to 'add people' to my friends list and I will continue to write painfully unfunny comments on the pages of people who I wouldn't shit on if they were on fire. I will continue because I am just as big of an attention whore as everyone else. I need more online friends than my other online friends. I need to validate my existence by counting the number of people who have viewed my profile.

So here, here you fucking go -
http://www.myspace.com/bape_monkey

Add me you cunts.

NORMAL SERVICE WILL RESUME SHORTLY

In the meantime - have a look at this happy fuck. He loves his job.

Art Wank

Jesus, I canny believe I've been down here for over a year and only just paid a visit to Trash. I don't want to say it's London's version of Optimo, but it was quite similar in crowd and music, if not aesthetic and ethos. Hahaha, what the fuck am I talking about.

Anyways, the reason I ended up there is thanks to these boys - A Cult Called Karrianna, who were playing at the Elephant and Castle in Camden, on Monday night. The only way I can think of describing them is - Motley Crue, fronted by Bobbie Gillespie, covering Bon Jovi songs in the stlye of Felix Da Housecat, New Order and Depeche Mode.

They fucking rocked, and afterwards my mate and I found ourselves wandering Tottenham Court Road, following the gay hair and t-shirt and tie crowd to Trash. A good time was had by all, and work the next day was a fucking chore.

Back up to Glasgow tomorrow. Fan-cunting-tastic.

Aw yeah, and you absolute jerk-offs had better be watching The Mighty Boosh.

Science! Part 1

I was sitting a couple of weeks ago in the flat. Bored. On t'internet, as you do. And I said to my flatmate "Did you ever hear of the guy who strapped helium ballons to a chair and floated up through the sky?" Obviously he didn't believe me, so I had to use the power of computers to prove to him it happened.

The Snopes page is here, and it's quite cool, when you actually read what the guy done.

But that got me thinking, thinking about whether or not I could attempt something like that myself. I decided it was far too dangerous, and would probably be really expensive. Then my flatmate's wee dog scampered in, jumped up on the couch, and grinned at me like a spaz.

She's a little daschund, very much like this...



...though without that fetching coat. Now, I thought, how cool would it be to take her out a walk, with her floating at the end of her leash, five feet in the air, suspended by helium balloons?

Very, was the answer. All I had to do was work out how much it was going to cost.

Now, she probably weighs between 5 and 7 kilograms, depending on how much she's eaten recently, so I had to figure out how many helium balloons it would take to get her off the ground.

I found out your standard one foot diameter balloon, when filled with helium, can exert an upwards force capable of lifting about 14 grams.

OK, taking the weight of the dog, for simplicity's sake, to be 6 kilograms we get:

1 balloon = 14 grams
1 dog = 6000grams

6000/14 = 428.6 (rounded up) balloons.

Obviously we have to round that up again, to get one full balloon, so call it 429 balloons, to equalise the upward force exerted by the balloons and the downward force of the dog. She would probably rise quite slowly, so she'd be easy to keep on the end of the leash.

"But how much would that cost?" I hear you ask. Well, Balloons.co.uk price the hire of their HG331 N2O Canister at £135.71 (click that link and scroll down). Problem is, it will on inflate 330 12" balloons and we need 429. So, we'll have to hire an HG330 N2O Canister (which can inflate 165 12" balloons) too. That'll set us back another £95.76.

Total price so far - £231.47. They do deliver though, so that's quite nice.

With those 2 canisters we can inflate 495 balloons, which from Balloons.co.uk will set us back 8p each. Let's call it an even 500:

500 balloons x £0.08 = £40. Nice. I reckon they'd deliver them when they bring the helium, too.

Grand Total, then - £271.47, and for that we get 500 helium balloons, with a flight time of between 8 and 10 hours. Plenty of time to wander about London getting odd looks.

If anyone has a spare £280, I'm totally up for this. The logistics of actually inflating and attaching almost 430 balloons to a dog not much longer than a foot will have to wait until all the equipment is right there in front of me. I'm sure it won't take long.

(Christ, imagine if I accidentally let go of the leash. My flatmates would kill me and burn me in the bath)

Deep in the juju, I was chasing the train

Alright you worthless motherfuckers, I'm betting you wouldn't know decent comedy if belted you round the chops with a live baby, then proceeded to shit on your shoes. Which is why you should care that The Mighty Boosh is back on the BBC next week. It's fucking awesome, and should be watched by everyone. EVERY-FUCKING-ONE.

The lovely, lovely people at the BBC have provided a live stream of the first episode, "Call of the Yeti", which you can watch by clicking right here. I'm not totally sure if you can view it outside the UK, so feel free to berate me for giving you false hope.

Enjoy

No service on the Circle Line

Yeah, bits of London may have been blown the fuck up, but it's very much business as usual, which is pretty cool. Other than a couple of extra Polis at the Tube stations and the odd controlled detonation of a suspect package outside my work (and other people's, presumably), everyone is pretty much going about there lives as normal. It's all gravy.

And am I the only person who thought of Monkey Dust when they heard the identities of the suicide bombers this morning? Good English boys, born here and into cricket, football, booze, Chicken McNuggets, kissing girls, and all that jazz.



"This Wednesday, death and destruction will rain upon your heads...."

"Eh, our Shafiq, we can't do Wednesday, it's West Brom versus Villa on pay-per-view!"

"....This Thursday...."

"There is a clause in all of my contracts, that my liver is to be buried seperately, and with full military honours"

After finally kicking the balls off GTA:San Andreas the other week, my wee dinky PS2 has been deathly quiet. I'm not a total game addict or anything, but it's nice to be in the middle of a game, to be able to waste away a couple of hours bashing buttons and hitting hookers with a spade. Thanks to my wee bro' I've discovered that the mighty mighty Rockstar are due to bring out a PS2 version of my all time favourite 70's gang film, The Warriors. Click that to view the trailer, it looks fucking fantastic. It's out in Rocktober, the month of my birth - I think I'll ask Mummy and Daddy dearest for it, all nicely wrapped in Scooby Doo paper.

I mentioned Rubber Johnny in my last post. Well, if you are too fucking cheap to buy the DVD, you can click this link to view it on t'internet. Enjoy.

I'm off out tonight to a pub quiz at the AKA Bar. We fucking won it last month, by some bizarre drunken luck. £100 bar tab we won, and we fucking hammered half of it in about 30 minutes. We're defending our title this time (as well as caning the rest of the bar tab), if only so we can hear the name 'Cartoon Sex Clowns' called out over the speakers again. Send some cocking luck my way, bawchops.

I'd like to volunteer to be in charge of booby traps

Wales was absolutely fuckin' mental. There's something glorious about being stuck in the middle in the middle of nowhere with tonnes of drink, drugs and headcases. Far too many people were taking their lives into their own, rather shaky, hands and doing all sorts of wacky shit. Explosive rockets, unicycling down treacherous hills, Super Soakers filled with paraffin (ok, that's a lie, even in our state we knew this was a bad idea), Mushroom tea, stunning sunshine, cows, dogs and enough Grolsch to take down George Best and his army of livers - it was all good fun. I've been back for quite some time, and I still don't feel like I've recovered.

I've been haemorrhaging money recently - as well as the usual 'social expenditure', Futurama Series 3, Jim Jarmusch's 'Coffee & Cigarettes' and Chris Cunningham's (slightly disappointing new short) 'Rubber Johnny' have just crashed through my letterbox and two seconds ago I ordered a suave new Zippo from eBay.

I don't even fucking smoke.

Waxing Gibbous

Do you know that way, when you've built something up in your mind and you're really looking forward to it, then it turns out to be utter shite? Well, I had been looking forward to 65daysofstatic for so long, I was sure that was going to happen. And did it? Did it fuck. They are easily one of the best bands I have ever seen - the drummer, especially, is fucking insanely talented. The only way I can think of describing the cacophany they create (and I hate doing this) is like a cross between Mogwai, M83, Squarepusher and Venetian Snares. My ears are still ringing. Buy everything of their's you can, savour it, and bask in the knowledge that if there is any justice in the universe, they are going to be fucking giant.

Sin City. That was the other thing I've been looking forward to for ages. I won't bore you with a sub par review, needless to say it's fucking brilliant.

I'm getting lazy at this writing malarkey. I'm off to Wales for the weekend, hopefully when I come back I'll be full of vigour and enthusiasm. And stories of drink, drugs, explosions and the shooting of rabbits. Yup.