Tuesday, June 24, 2008


Me, on the recent-ish Motorpsycho album "Little Lucid Moments" that's been giving me much slow-burning pleasure over the last month or two.

More Norwegian Neo-Prog here.


My glasses are disintegrating, so had to go to the opticians for an eye-test (not an auspicious start to a post) - into that place that's full of enormous posters (so you can see 'em without yer specs) of impossibly attractive models all wearing, cf that w/ the actual reality of an opticians, wh/ is a place full of crumbling, half-blind, decidedly un-glamorous old-people (myself included) with glaucomas and cataracts who are being talked-to REALLLY LOUDLLLY by pushy assistants ("Would! You! Like! These! Half-frames! Mrs! Johnson! They! REALLY! Suit! You!").

Oh, and while we're on the topic of optical stuff, can I just quickly mention The Zonule of Zinn - which is not an alien despot from a Jack Vance book or a Hawkwind B-Side, even tho it sounds like it should be.

So, anyway, after I had the test, I was sat out in the main part of the shop having my nose measured, etc with a pair of dummy, plain-glass spectacles on...I'm as blind as a bat without me specs, I was squinting out into the street when I thought: "Holy fuck! Is that someone wheeling off my bike? No, surely not..." I put my proper specs on to check and, sure enough, I catch the tail-end of me bike disappearing off dn the road.

"Excuse me, gotta go!" I say to the optician's assistant - "Someone's just nicked my bike!" And I run off in hot pursuit as the guy freewheeled it dn Middle Street. I caught up with him and pulled him off the bike. I'm not a big guy, but I was pretty fired up by now: "Oi! Get off my fucking bike, you prick!"

He was in his early twenties and waaaay bigger than me, with - surprise! - a grey hoodie pulled over his head. He feined surprise: "Oh,, is it yours? It wasn't me, some, uh, kid just nicked it. I, uh..."

"Don't fucking insult me, you lying twat." He looked oddly cowed; I don't think he'd quite expected this. I was semi-hysterical with rage. I looked him in the eye and pointed down the road and yelled, top of my voice: "Now, fuck off, you thieving prick...go on - fuck off..." I'm rubbish in a fight, but I'm pretty good at Combat Swearing.

I was kinda shocked - he just hunched up inside his top and seemed to shrink as he turned away and walked. So I followed him a few feet dn the road, yelling: "That's it - fuck off, you thieving twat!!" A small crowd had gathered (it was market-day) and watched as he walked past. I carried on shouting at him "Thief! Thief! Thief! You're a fucking thief! That's it - keep on walking, thief!!!" as he sort of scuttled off, looking 2 foot shorter than a minute earlier.

Some people came up to me and started saying stuff like "Nice one, mate!" and "Good for you - I'm sick of these thieving bastards - they pinched my bike a couple weeks ago..." etc, etc.

Then I went back in and finished my eye-test. 20 minutes later the adrenaline suddenly hit me: shit, he could've had a knife.

I went to decompress in this cafe that I go to sometimes to write. The owner - a groovy Arab geezer - sat with me and told me about a member of the Jordanian royal family he knows - a big guy, not muscular - who took out 2 guys who tried to mug him for his Rolex in the Edgeware road. They thought he was an easy mark who was too unfit to chase them, but he floored one of the muggers and sat on him, then grabbed hold of the other guy's arm and didn't let go until the cops arrived.

No Police on duty in Yeovil any more; they're all sat around chatting to the hedge-monkeys (long-term readers will get this reference).

I got back feeling pretty pleased with myself until I found I'd trodden in a dog turd on the way home.


Chris' nutty pal Kay gave her a Wurzel's fridge-magnet a couple days ago:

Note: "here's" spelt without an "h". They've got an eye for detail, them Wurzels.

Now, I watched a bit of the Isle of Wight festival on telly last night (it was shit) and, did I imagine this, or did the Sex Pistols have a back-drop with something about combine-harvesters written on it?

Is some sort of Pistols/Wurzel's mutual fan-club thing going on here?