(FOR A PROPER, PAPERY COPY OF THIS, EMAIL ME )
welcome to 'Sniper Glue'. all your friends hate you. they're bitching about you
RIGHT NOW, as they sip their extra cummy lates in their glossily dysfunctional
Starbucks world. 'Sniper Glue' is your only friend. 'Sniper Glue' aches to taste
the moist joy between your legs. 'Sniper Glue' won't sell you any fake 'Sex in
the City' lifestyle you can never afford to buy. 'Sniper Glue' will fulfill your
sickest dreams and not charge you a penny. 'Sniper Glue' IS YOUR ONLY FRIEND.
XXXXXXXXXX
i'm waking up in the middle of the night a lot these days (that's a Joy Division
songs, kids). i don't know why. i've gone through periods when i've been unable
to sleep before and it's never due to any particular trauma or anything - it's
just URGH! i don't know. now i wake early due to my continuing alkohol abuse,
so at least there's a reason. but i've been 'abusing' that particular drug since
i was 17, so why now? is this why people join the Salvation Army - turn to
football (on no!), tatoo their, already ugly, bodies with even uglier emblems?
i was @ the Monday Club today with my friend John and he was saying something
about liver transplants ('twas in 'the Star' - the fountain of all knowledge!)
i said i didn't care and he said 'you should. everyone who comes to the Monday
Club should', or words to that effect. what he was ACTUALLY saying was funnier,
but i'm not a funny guy so i can't remember and that's not the point anyway. the
point is - if there IS a point - that it's now 6am and i'm listening to Red
House Painters 'Songs for a Blue Guitar' and drinking cider 'cos i have nothing
to do tomorrow or any day and i don't even care that much 'cos all i wanna do
is buy the double 'Wicker Man' DVD for 9.97 and the Sun Kil Moon CD (which i've
already got on CDR anyway but THAT'S NOT THE POINT). the point is, i don't wanna be
yet another useless waste of sperm and eggs, like most folk i see waddling
about on this earth. i need to DO something, CREATE something to validate my
existence 'cos just being alive isn't enough for me and that makes me a freak
but so what? the bored kid who graffittis the wall across from your house feels
the same, he just maybe can't articulate it as much as an over-educated 32 year-
old can. graffitti is art just as much as anything. if serial killers had an
artistic outlet then they probably wouldn't kill - (oh, i forgot J.W. Gacey -
sorry - my theory is fucked).
it's getting light outside now, birds are singing. i live near a river. i like
this place more than anywhere else i've ever lived - it's peaceful. it also
won't last forever. i'm always aware of a dark presence just beyond my periferal
vision. it will envelope me one of these days. i know it. it's almost become
like a friend, a pet, a slave. it's there with me all the time, like a shadow.
i don't know if it's death or just depression. maybe it's something else
entirely. it's with me in these dark hours, when radio 2 is the best comfort
available - almost as warm as a lovers arms - the best hours, sometimes. all
alone with the thoughts that can drive a saner person mad. and they talk about
'suspect packages' on TV. suspect device. yeah. and they show a photo of Dr
David Kelly. what a hunk. i like men with beards. especially ones who end up
topping themselves. no, i'm sure he was a nice man, actually. he looks like
one. but the nice ones always die and the evil cunts go on for ever. it's the way
of this stinkin' world, babee! someone sent me some little clips of UFO
sightings and there was a great one where 2 guys were in a helicopter hovering
next to the twin towers (this was in '98, i think) and this UFO zoomed past.
it's incredibly realistic. but, then, i'm a believer. do YOU believe? why? or
why don't you? are you another boring, brain-dead piece of lifeless tofu like
your neighbours? do you lust over under-age schoolkids? if you're gay, does
your reflection turn you on? do you like the Smiths? have you ever seen 'Hong
Kong Phooey'?
6.20am now and the Divine Comedy play on R2 - Sarah Kennedy's show. i love her.
she's 'always' drunk, just like me. she's my only friend right now. where are
YOU? tomorrow - today - is another day. i will lie on a beach with an elephant
and smear myself with jam. the sun will burn like honey and i'll fuck myself
the best i can. but the beautiful people are never really beautiful. their perfect
jaw-lines betray an evil which you can never imagine. like those nazi propaganda
films by Leni Riefensthal. they're beautiful. amazing adverts for nazism. for
Coke. for McDonalds. evil wears a big smile. it'll shake your hand and tell you
it loves you. 'don't you wanna join our gang? why not? look at all the free
gifts we have on offer - wind-up toys, dinosaur masks...' gas chambers.
Kennedy still mumbles on. how can anyone talk so fucking much? i know it's her
job, but still... Dusty's on now - 'Goin' Back'. this is one of the songs that
usually brings the tears to my jaded eyes. but, right now, they're dry 'cos i'm
@ that genuine moment where i feel no emotion and that's how i want to be ALL
the time. it feels great. no joy, no pain, just an even keel. my natural state
is up and down like a see-saw and i'm sick of it. anti-depressants work for a
while and then they make me even worse ('cos you're not meant to drink with them
and i can't not drink 'cos........... fill in your own sentence here, you perfect,
condesending FUCKER.. OK, i'll help you - i'm weak, i'm addicted, i'm a loser, i'm
a twart, i'm not YOU. fuck off). Joe's maw told me to try Kalms. she's depressed.
you're probably depressed. everyone's depressed. Barney the purple dinosaur is
depressed. or is it just my twisted vision, my world view? i don't think so,
actually. a girl i knew at school told me that she was happy and never felt
depressed and i didn't believe her and i still don't, but maybe she was being
truthful. OK, she was loaded and pretty and all that, but i don't think that
automatically means you're happy. i think people who are happy - or who claim
to be - are fucking boring. what do you talk about with someone like that? i mean,
i WISH i was happy. it's always been my biggest wish if my fairy godfucker came
down - i just don't believe it's ever possible. it's like wishing you were a cat
or something. it's impossible and silly and pointless 'cos it's not gonna happen.
but bombs explode in Madrid and i can't help thinking that this whole sad,
pathetic human race would be better off if those things happened more often.
'cos most of us are just beggin for death, whether we admit it or not. we spend
our lives moaning about our shit jobs and our shit spouses and our shit world.
i wish a comet would come and despatch this inferior life-form like it did
the dinosaurs. i'm a herbi-vore. what are you?
children dancing. it's so sweet. i hate children. i hate everything. i got
bored with my cousin's puppy after about 10 minutes. my whole family talking to
it like it was a baby. i mean, it's a sweet dog and all that, but i just thought
it was a bit pathetic. i also find it sort of ironic how people can be SO in love
with an animal and then go and eat meat. it's a strange one, for sure. i have
arguments about it just about every day of my life. how can someone gaze for
hours @ photos of cute animals and then go and eat one? 'cos cows and sheep and
pigs are NO DIFFERENT from other animals. no different from your mum and dad,
ya cunt. i'm wearing people down, especially John. if he's not a veggie soon
my life's been a waste. well, it's been a waste anyway. have you been in an
abattoir? have you been to Sesame Street? are you a big purple dinosaur? i wish
i could have a reason to take drugs. i want to be a stoner but i just can't do
it. makes me paranoid and even duller than i am already (which is duller then
the dullest dishwater you can imagine).
Lulu! she's great, isn't she? i love how she puts on her Scottish accent when she
plays here - or, rather, i love her fake transatlantic accent. she did have one
good song - the b side to something or other. it was called 'Dreary Days and Nights'.
send me a tape and i'll copy it for you. Lulu! Simply Red are on R2 now. i had
their first LP and few singles. i loved 'em. he IS a great singer but, as with
most people, he's been diluted by time and now he's just shit. that usually
happens with music but, strangely, not with writing. writers usually improve with
age as experience blesses them with its many gifts and curses. 'Galveston' now.
Glen Campbell's definitive version, OF COURSE. one of my faves. i always think
this'd be a good ad for Gavescon (heart-burn remedy, which i use... can i get
a sponsorship deal, please?) i don't think J Webb would approve, mind you. the
long-haired, fat CUNT! great songwriter, though.
y'know, morning kids TV is really disturbing. there's some cunt on right now
kidding on he's a clock (cock). i always used to wake up to 'Teletubbies' and
that just isn't right when you've got a hangover. 'Power Rangers' is even worse
(as Bob Mould said) - the ones that are on now are kind of OK. 'Bear in the
Big Blue House' is cool. i dig that shit!
now it's 7.05am and, babies, i'm in my stride! i'm drinking CENSORED and just
fueling all your 'all Scots are drunks' hatred. well, let me tell you this - i
hate YOU too. so now we're even. i got an email yesterday from a friend about some
shit i'd written on some website or other and he was pissed-off. maybe it's
better not to write, to bother, in case i offend someone but FUCK THAT. if i
offend someone, they probably deserve to be offended. everyone's complacent.
and boring. everyone ends up with 2.5 kids and a job. there's nothing WRONG with
that, it's just so fucking boring and predictable and safe and i just don't
get it. i can't stand people - or puppies, or kittens - after a certain period
of time. people are BORING, none more so than me. i just wanna forget myself.
Gigs
PERNICE BROTHERS - KING TUTS, GLASGOW, 8 MARCH 2004
after drinking in a secret location with John for the previous 6 hours, i
felt ready to make my way into the dark streets of Glasgow on a cold Monday
night. wary of the rip-off drink prices in the venue, i bought myself a 1/2
bottle of Buckfast wine before going in. Alan was on the door and said he
could have got me in for nothing (i'd bought a ticket earlier in the after-
noon, knowing that if i didn't, i probably wouldn't go). fuck! anyway, i made
my way into the 'inner sanctum' of King Tuts and bought a pint which was
even dearer than i had expected (2.50!) i only bought one, made it last and
started on the Buckfast later. i stood down the front, watched Joe Pernice
and 'the lads' setting up. it was an intimate affair - the band all sat down.
Joe stayed on his trusty acoustic for the whole set, Peyton Pinkerton was
on electric. the other 2 guys were new (to me, at least). there was a long-
haired 'Bill & Ted'/Columbine lookalike on a huge Roland keyboard (but - this
was the best bit - he also had a guitar strapped round his neck which he would
occasionally ring some truth from. a nice touch, i thought.) the drummer (who
played only a single snare - with brushes - and sometimes a tambourine) looked
about 15 and was apparently the keyboard geezer's brother. Joe Pernice kept
calling him 'kid' and he often had to rely on cues from the other band members
so he knew when to end a song, etc. i think he'd only been 'with' the band for
a few days, so perhaps this was understandable. it was actually quite sweet to
see the interaction between the people on stage. it was so far removed from a
big, professional rock show. i'd seen other incarnations of this band a few times
before but this was by far the best. they tackled songs from each of their albums
and a few oldies by Joe's ex-band, Scud Mountain Boys (including a cover of
Olivia Newton John's 'Please Mister Please'). Joe also treated us to a solo
rendition of the amazing 'Bum Leg' and they ended with a version of a song from
'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'! i picked up a copy of the tour CD on my way out and,
later that week, Andrew sent me a copy of Joe's novella 'Meat is Murder'
(very loosely based on the Smiths LP of the same name). it made me return to
last years 'Yours, Mine & Ours' album with renewed vigour.
LEATHERFACE - NICE N SLEAZY, GLASGOW, 18 MARCH 2004
OK,so it's 12.10am and i'm just back from seeing Leatherface @ Sleazys. they
played as a 3 piece. they all had beards. they played 'Andy'. what more could
i want? i'd not seen them for 3 or 4 years but this was the best i've EVER seen
'em. a small venue, a crowd who were really into it and a band who just couldn't
do any wrong if they tried. i'd had a couple of Millers in the Brunswick Cellars
in the pm with Dave (2.40 each! it used to be 1.30 - that's Glasgow's sexy new
anti-binge-drinking laws for you), 3 in the Horseshoe with Sam, Grant and Dave,
then it was onto the Variety - all decked out in xmas lights and red bulb
ambience - NICE. so, the 'Face. they did 'Andy' which was a surprise. maybe
'cos some of their Sunderland mates were there and they knew the guy who the
song was about. i still found it moving, though, as it's a song to a friend who
has passed away. that's the whole point about this gig and Leatherface in
general - they're a completely emotional band. you can see it in Frankie Stubbs'
face, all screwed-up - he means it maaan! and that's where most of these pop/
punk bands fail - there's NO emotion there at all. it's all one big career move.
it's all to get on MTV and fuck hot chicks. no better than the most commercial,
careerist pop act you could ever invent. all these 'punk' bands you see on music
TV - they all have the same agenda (and, from what i can tell, the same singer) -
it's to carve out a career in music - just like Britney, just like Justin, just
like Christina. 'cos there are some loud guitars in the equation doesn't mean
the songs are any better or the motives are any purer, it's all shit and you
know it and if you don't then you're either a 12 year-old or you're a complete
fucking idiot. anyway, back to Leatherface. they came on for their first encore
and did 'You Are My Sunshine' and 'Hops and Barley' (where everyone - well, about
5 of us - raised their glasses in salute), but they did their PROPER encore and
ended with a couple of truly classic originals, 'Not Superstitious' being the
final one. an amazing, pivotal moment. fuck all the other bands who try and be
as good as this. there's only one true God-like band playing this kinda music
these days and it's Leatherface so let's cherish these home-grown Goliaths.
CDs
LEATHERFACE 'DOG DISCO' (BYO RECORDS) www.leatherface.uk.com
bought this CD at the above gig. the girl who sold me it informed me only 4
were left so i snapped one up right away (a bargain at a tenner). think the girl
in question was Frankie's wife. it certainly looks like the same person in the
Las Vegas wedding pic on the website, anyway. this CD has a terrible cover and a
terrible title, but i knew it would contain some solid gold music and i wasn't
disappointed. from the second 'Hoodlum' erupts from the speakers, i knew i was
in for a treat. Frankie's lyrics are so hard to make out, i'm glad he prints them
on the CD booklet. pity they're so damn small and hard to read, though. i'm still
at the honeymoon stage with this release, where i'm constantly eager to go back
and explore every contour of its body and everything's a bit new to me, still,
but i know it's another fucking great release from Leatherface and i know
it will be a lifelong friend. and the title 'Rabbit Pie Alibi' is a classic!
SLUGGO 'PHASES' (SIJIS RECORDS) www.sijis.com
first of all, this CD has a really nice colour cover with an old couple gazing
out at some beautiful ships. track 1 is called 'shekinah' and is really peaceful.
i turned the lights off and hoped it would go somewhere but it didn't. it went
somewhere else instead! but it still emitted a nice, soothing vibe. a strange
washing machine overloading kind of noise fading in and out of the ambient drone.
y'know, i'm NOT used to this kinda music - so i dunno if that's a bad or a good
thing. i'm just being honest. i don't like noise but this isn't noise - this is
kind of beautiful, a 1am soundtrack to a world where things aren't really as bad
as they seem. i don't know - i just like this shit and i'm surprised! oh no, now
at 14 minutes into the track, there's some horrible noise which makes me reconsider.
it don't last long but neither does someone stabbing you. that's why i don't
'get' this sorta music - i liked this before the noisy jab. i could listen to it
while drifting off to sleep, etc, but these crazy artistes have to let rip with
a blast of wacky crap to remind you they're not some ambient professionals but
ultra underground 'noise terrorists'. or something. and now it's all silent but
it's still the same track. oh no, it's just really quiet. i'm not turning it up
though 'cos i can imagine these crazy cunts are gonna reward me with a super
loud octane blast which will send me out onto the streets as my landlord evicts
me for noise pollution - ha ha - thanks a LOT, Sluggo. By the way, American Music
Club's first drummer was called Sluggo. OK, it's track 2 now - 'Henge' - and it's
all quiet and shit but i'm just waiting for the noisiness... is it coming? right
now it sounds like some 5 year-old pressing down on a keyboard with some frogs
chirping in the background. do frogs chirp? it COULD sound scary or ominous if
in a different context but on its own it sounds kinda boring. SORRY. (to put this
in context, it's 1.15am and i'm alone in a dark room, so..) i'm waiting for the
explosion.. but no, it goes on and on like this for the whole 14 minutes, with
its drone and snake hissing noises. it's almost boring and almost nice but doesn't
quite manage to be either. it all ends with a beep - like an aborted phone call.
and now i'm listening to Nick Drake's 'Bryter Layter', drinking cider and wondering
about what life could have been. i remember when no one knew who N Drake was, and
when no one knew who I was and when no one knew who or why or what or if. so what
does that mean apart from a drunken, late night scribbling? NOTHING.
J. TORRANCE 'THE ARCHDUKE OF THE FURRYCATS'(SIJIS RECORDS) www.sijis.com
8.20am (this reviewer is an early bird, especially when he needs a piss and it's
either get up or soil the pristine claret coloured sheets) and J Torrance plays
now. this has beats, something i'm never much fond of. beats and a noise like
a retarded child farting underwater. when something else happens you, dear reader,
will be the first to know. until then i'll just drink cider.. oh, there's some
kind of lonely, far away string instrument now - which sounds like a distant bus
on your worst Saturday night out. again, i'm surprised how much i like this but
this time the beats spoil it for me a bit. the weather man on TV silently predicts
another shit day, there's one more choc chip muffin to be had and J Torrance goes
on and on. wonder if he/she is related to the golfer Sam Torrance? track 2 is
heralded by some chick saying something about children wandering through a
wilderness of sin and then it becomes what sounds like a jazz piece with every
other note removed - like the CD's skipping (except it ain't - i've been intimate
with this particular machine since early '93 now. who says i can't have long
term relationships?) this one has an HILARIOUS title as well - 'Gwyneth Paltrow
Butt Naked (Now that's what I call Coldplay'. are your sides splitting? the jazz
torture fades out a couple of times to give the listener occasional illusions of
peace - tranquil, empty waiting-rooms, flowers slowly wilting in vases on hot
summer afternoons - but then it comes back to remind you just what zany cunts (or
is it just 1 cunt?) J Torrance are. thankfully it only takes up 3.45 minutes of your
precious life and then it's all over, like a bad dream or a melted ice lolly.
next up on this 4 tracker is 'Coney Island Dogbiscuit' and it has a half heard,
whispered vocal at the start and a soundtrack of relentless pounding. other
voices wash in and out like waves and there are some actual wave noises too, in
case you thought i just used that word out-of-the-blue. this isn't nearly as
annoying as the last track and, at 7.37 minutes, it's a good job. now some
chick is talking and it sounds like she learnt the words backwards and then the
tape was played backwards for that extra spooky 'i'm from hell' effect. sadly,
it does nothing for me. i'm not impressed, just like i don't cum myself over
Marilyn Manson and his 'crazy' songs. maybe if i was 12. so, it's track 4 - final
one - and this seems pretty non-descript. again, a beat like being pounded by
a dentists drill and some keyboard noises which wouldn't sound out of place in
the most boring shopping mall in the world. this track really isn't doing much
for me. i want a song which makes me wanna go out and loot and kill, or something.
alas, this isn't making me feel like that. it all ends with some Japanese
dialogue. why? I don't fuckin' know.
MR MUTTON_DELUXE 'NOT IN THE LAKE' (SIJIS RECORDS) www.sijis.com
onto the 3rd, and final Sijis CD now and, y'know, i AM impressed by these nice
colour covers. good to see someone who cares about such things. this release is
by Mr Sijis himself (if his email address is anything to go by, that is). but i
won't let that poison my opinion just because he sent me these CDs as a trade for
some of MY OWN shit. i gotta be honest, so.. track 1, at 2.17 minutes in, sounds
shit. backwards voice and tin can scraping type noise. more cider for me, i think.
well, the title track's over and God help us all if that was the best Mr
Mutton_Deluxe has to offer 'cos it was completely boring. track 2 at least has
a good title - 'Jazz Fistula' - and it sounds like someone eating something
inedible and then recording it. now it's suddenly track 4, so i'm confused -
not an uncommon state of affairs, babes - and this consists of taped chatter
over an annoying, repetitive beat. if i were trapped in a lift with this playing,
i'd murder everyone i saw, starting with myself. 9am now and what has my life
become, reviewing 'experimental' CDs @ this hour? don't worry, it's nearly over -
as your Uncle Jake said when he fucked you up the shitter after boy scouts. final
track, 'Lamb', and it sounds kinda like mid-period Swans (ie - when they were
shit).
JOY ZIPPER 'SAMPLER CD' (MERCURY RECORDS) www.joyzipper.tv
got this free promo thang when i was working with Kenny the other night. it
starts off with a nice, subdued radio 2 type track which could well make this
lot the new successors to the LAST band to try this formula. but it's not
unpleasant. it's actually kinda nice. yes, it has the programmed beats - although
it sounds like a real drummer @ the end - 'cos everyone knows people are the most
boring species on this planet, especially drummers. no, i think this is a 'real'
band. the drums on track 2 sound as real as a trip to Real Land. this is ALL
v nice. not the piece of shit i was expecting from a promo CD given to me by a
promoter @ a gig. this is 2004, after all. kids 'do' Kurt Cobain on 'Stars in
Their Eyes', trains are blown up - we ain't living in anything which even
slightly resembles the normality we knew as kids, so why not embrace the wholly
unexpected joy of a Joy Zipper CD with a main vocalist who has a nice whispery,
peaceful, cocktail bar sort of thing going on? there are worse ways to spend
your last days on this cruel earth.
CERAMIC HOBS 'SHERGAR IS HOME SAFE AND WELL' (PUMF RECORDS) www.pumf.net
and here's a lovely new CD from Blackpool's Ceramic Hobs but, wait, what's this?
a BAR-CODE? does this mean the Hobs have bequeathed their ass to the corporate
cock? well, no, actually. if they had then they wouldn't begin their new CD with
the weirdness that is 'Knights Move', a sound collage comprising a bizarre mix
of marching band, stylo-phone, pots and pans being banged, ice-cream van, a woman
talking about her depression, etc. it's mad, babe! track 2 is more 'normal' - a
kind of post punk tune with strange and indecipherable lyrics (although it IS
entitled 'Native American Healing Chant', though) which would have me jumping
round the room a la Ian Curtis (when he was still alive, obviously) if i were
drunk. but i'm not. it's 2.30pm too. must go to the pub soon. 'Safe to Heaven'
is nice, spoken-word, almost Dido-esque. maybe it's the posh female voice and
the dreamy soundscapes of the backing track. marketed correctly, this could win
the Hobs a Brit award! //// 8.15pm now and, after several pints in the Horseshoe
with James, i feel ready, willing and MABEL to re-commence with this review.
yeah, track 3 is good too, y'know, it's ALL fucking good. this is the CD 'they'
should give ALL mentally ill folk - to show that you can utilise your 'illness'
in a positive way, instead of allowing it to turn you into a drooling freak who
sits on the bus in ill-fitting clothes, mumbling to yourself. fuck being ashamed -
you should CELEBRATE your uniqueness and be proud 'cos you're not yet another
label-wearing brain-on-cruise-control TWAT. i would love to see the Hobs live
but Simon says (put your hands on your head!) it'd cost 'em 100 quid in petrol
money alone to get to Glasgow. i can't imagine how they'd ever recreate this kinda
stuff live, but i would love to find out. this is a crap CD review, isn't it?
the titles on here are all very obscure - the only one i 'get' is 'Does He Take
Sugar', which was a radio prog about disabled people. i don't even hope to
understand titles like 'Pro-Ana Tips 'N' Tricks' and 'Rainbow Self-Realisation
Therapy', though. is there anything to understand? my favourite lyric on this is
'Fuck your mother, kill yourself, die' (from track # 14) which is as good a
philosophy as any. AND they do Fes Parker's 'M61', a song so great it's been on
a KAW compilation (no higher recommendation exists, believe me!) "New Fleetwood
Blues' is like an ultra lo-fi, ultra hammered Bert Jansch. yeah, THAT good!
i really do like this CD a lot. shame the title isn't as snappy as the previous
'Straight Outta Rampton' and 'Psychiatric Underground' but there WAS a TV docu
about Shergar the other night so it's timely, at least. God bless Ceramic Hobs!
888888888888'it could be the spam fritters'888888888888888888888
and then you suddenly realise your posters say more about you than your opinions
and you're living in a soundbite world where your every thought is dictated by
a TV talk show. your old clothes no longer fit you and your old friends no longer
tolerate you, so you look at the penis shaped mark on your right hand and wonder
if there is more significance to it than the intended one. the females you meet
smile at you in pity because they can see that you will never be one of the human
race. not like them, at least. they can see your flaws - all over you like a rash
or a film of dirt which can never be washed away - they can see this as you hand
them the tickets to another boring night.. and you go back to your room with your
aching legs and think it was all worth it for XXXXXXXX
Kilroy's replacement show is on TV - topic is 'Binge Drinking Britain' and some
fat bitch is going on about how much she sinks on a night out and Nicky Campbell
is being all moralistic, like you are legally obliged to be when you're a cunt
TV talk show host. but, to be honest, what kind of retard would go on this sort
of show anyway? to be frowned upon by the guardians of society's non-existent
morals. now there's a couple of young professional looking black females slagging
drink off. don't black people drink? or are they all boring cunts? why are people
so moralistic about nearly everything? 'cos they all think they're better than
everyone else, that's why. i don't understand how anyone can be that arrogant.
most people, around 99%, i'd say, are just cunts and their cunt-ness is written
all over their smug, boring faces. even the drinkers on this show are boring
fuckers. they're all lightweights. 'Loaded' drinkers, occasional drinkers, who
think it's really funny to show photos of themselves passed out on national TV.
the real drinkers are far too ashamed to 'out' themselves like that. the real
drinkers are watching TV chat shows @ 9.40am, with their cider all cool and
bubbling by the bed. God, i hate these shows. i'm only waiting for 'the Wright
Stuff' to come on 'cos at least it's not a free-for-all where everybody all talks
at once and it's not as moralistic as this BBC government sponsored KKK fascist
SHIT i'm watching now. i never liked Kilroy till he made those 'racist' comments.
now i think he's a GOD! he was only saying what every other person
thinks and it's just that we're sick of being treated like 3rd class citizens in
our own country. it's the INJUSTICE that's the annoying factor here, when someone
can walk into a country and instantly get a nice flat just 'cos Mr Blair is so
fucking weak and PC that he wants every nice middle class liberal to love him.
i'm NOT racist. i'm NOT gonna vote BNP. believe that or don't, but it's true and
maybe that's worse 'cos this fucking shitty cuntry, by denying its lifelong
citizens rights which people of other nations take for granted, makes us more
bitter by the day and will eventually lead to a revolution. sorry, i'm sounding
like Enoch Powell, but i stand by everything i've just said. i'll be waiting
till i'm 60 for a council flat in a decent area. i was told this by the council.
i'm a bitter and twisted guy and i DON'T CARE. i'm not saying people who are
fleeing awful regimes in other countries should be denied a life here, i just think
our top priorities should be with people born here. single guys under 60 are
the lowest priority for council housing in the UK. that's a FACT. sadly, if
you're not a lesbian dwarf bringing up 3 kids then you're fucked in Blair's Britain.
glad i voted for you twice, you cunt. never again. it's the Lib Dems or Green
Party or a spoiled paper for me from now on. anyway, back to alcohol - they're
still moaning on and on about how terrible it is. so many lovely, smiling
people, all nice and clean, telling us what to think, like Stalin, like Hitler.
it's a shame that the few sensible voices come from the ugly faces of 'lads'
who i'd avoid in a pub. but i'll take my allies to my bosom, whatever they may
look like. now there are a couple of teens going on about drinking and all the
fucking dull adults are moaning at them about it. jealousy! and now the prog's
over, it's 10am and the gun is loaded and ready. i'm gonna do a Kurt. bang.