Saturday, November 13, 2004


Thanks to Old Rottenhat for the kind words on his 'new' blog Shouting in a Bucket Blues. And respect due to for naming their blog after a Kevin Ayers song.

Ayers will always be a personal hero of mine because, irrespective of his music (which I love), he got stoned and copped off with Richard Branson's first wife Kirsten Tomassi during a piss-up on Branson's house-boat in the early Seventies. Tomassi subsequently ran off with Ayers and Branson spent a year pleading with her to come back, which she never did. Some might say that this was one of the reasons that Ayers career never took off, as Branson had been thinking of signing him to Virgin and promoting him after his contract with Island ended.


Forget the M5 Wicker Man...there's now an enormous owl made of hay on the A303 just this side of Castle Cary.

It's got big staring eyes and everything. Wonder if its head turns 180 degrees everytime it spots a mouse?


More self-important twaddle from Madonna at the UK Music Hall of Fame awards: "In spite of the title of this ceremony, I think this award is more to do with my accomplishments than my fame. Just because I'm famous doesn't mean I don't have anything to say....(blahblahblahblahblah) is the voice I have been given, the voice to ask questions with, challenge with, explode with, create with, laugh with and cry with, and I am also truly grateful my voice has given other people a voice..."

Oh, please. Enough already. Christ, what would she be like if she'd actually done something other than just make a couple of half-decent singles nearly twenty years ago? Actually, that's not entirely fair: "Borderline" is a work of near-genius, but it really doesn't justify her having an ego the size of a Gas Giant. Do Yip! Yip Coyote carry on like that just because they released "Pioneer Girl" to an uncaring world 20 years ago? Do The Haines Gang still crow on about "the importance of their vision and their work" two decades after the frankly-astounding sub-Was (Not Was) shenanigans of "So Hot" failed to make any impact whatsoever on the British Psyche. They may have been novelty records but they contained more ideas (and carried more emotional weight) over four minutes than Madonna has generated in her entire career (with the exception of "Borderline", of course). And don't even get me started on Champion Doug Veich or The 3 Mustaphas 3.

And what about someone like, oh I dunno, off the top of my head... Scott Walker, someone with talent (and a uniquely skewed vision) who might actually deserve some sort of lifetime achievement don't hear him gobbing off about his own fantastic-ness every 20 minutes. In fact, you don't hear him saying much about anything, ever...

And (surprise, surprise!) Dave Stewart was there too, dishing out the prizes. Wasn't he off to LA because he's a Polymath and us Brits are too stoopid to appreciate that 'great' little film he wrote/directed/scored as a vehicle for the Appleton sisters? Yeah, well, I bet that woulda done great box-office in the States. No really. Cheers, then, Dave: see ya, mate...don't slam the door on your way out!

Oh, and Madonna: you're on a fucking warning, sweetheart. Three strikes and you're out.