Friday, August 27, 2004


Actually, I reckon Psychbloke's hit on something really interesting in the Wicker Man thread (below): one of the saddest things about summer in Somerset is the sight of abandoned out-of-season carnival-floats left to rot in the fields; put out to pasture like ageing metal animals...rusting vehicles and traction-engines; damp, rotting clown's heads, playing-cards and dice; grotesque Alice-in-Wonderland figurines; giant bees...left visible, naked and exposed to sunlight and the elements...cruelly removed from their natural environment: the fantastickal small-town Neo-Neon-Beltane that comes round every October in Somerset. To see these garish floats beached and helpless beside a barn in Western Zoyland in Late Spring is to feel the clammy hand of Lady Death upon your shoulder...

NB: Be warned! Strange forces are abroad during Carnival Night. Steve Spode once had a bad mushroom trip when a small child dressed as a pack of 20 John Player Blues looked at him strangely as he marched past.


I saw Billy-Bob Thornton today in Middle Street, Yeovil, but he was wearing a day-glo yellow sleeveless Stewards Jacket printed with the words: South Somerset Waste Partnership. He was chucking old cardboard boxes and bin-bags into a dust-cart (Vultures, I think they're called) outside of The Yeovil Kebab House. I reckon he must've been 'preparing' for a role in some new Hollywood blockbuster. Which surprised me; I never had him pegged for a Method actor...

Still, it must be paying off; he's got the accent bag-on. "Fuck me, Dave, whas in this, then? This fucking bag do stink to buggery. Reckon some silly twat's gone'un dropped iz guts innit or summat," he said to one of his colleagues, who stopped to adjust his woolly hat, then belched so horribly I thought he'd been sick. Then Billy-Bob started whistling "Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple, but out of tune.

Wow, I thought, Billy-Bob's here soaking up the atmosphere, working on his character mannerisms. I wonder if the other bin-men know it's him. God, I bet they don't. He's probably here in secret. Even his agent doesn't know where he is. As I walked past him, I gave him a descrete wink as if to say: don't worry, your secret's safe with me, mate.

But he blanked me. I guess once they're in character, they stay in character. In fact, he took off one of his fingerless mittens and scratched his hand, as if he had an itch. Boy, these actors sure work hard for their money.

I wonder if he ever gave Angelina Jolie her blood back.