So, here’s a thing. Jay-Z’s CEO of Def Jam, Def Jam have bought the rest of Rocafella, which means Dame’s out.

Which means, all the artists he’s signed without Jay’s approval (most of them, since Beans), might be looking at futures bleaker than they’d thought in light of MOP’s situation.

Meaning, when I met Dame Dash a few weeks ago in London, when he was going on about the Rocafella family, and how the Roc is “for life”… I mean, he must have known about this shit. He must have.

Now, I figure Jay’ll do OK by NORE. But Dipset? That rubbish British crew, who’s name escapes me? Nina Sky? That goddamned Ronson girl?

Laters.

Hey, how amazing is this gonna be? And what if it’s amazing, AND big, and they have to make a sequel? WOO HOO! I always wanted to see The Great Glass Elevator (what was wrong with The Great Glass Lift, huh Dahl?)

So.

Last night I saw Cockney Rebel.

Let me reiterate.

Last night I saw COCKNEY REBEL!!!

LAST NIGHT!

I SAW!

COCKNEY REBEL!

I have bang-ed on about this band before.

But.

Let me reiterate.

Cockney Rebel, who you may know for their popular ‘Come Up And Make Me Smile’ jingle were, for two albums at least, the most excellent prog glam outfit, like, EVAH… a fiddle sat where electric guitar usually does. They had the most incredible string sections ever married with pop music. They had huge, HUGE choruses, that grew and swelled like volcanoes under a time microscope.

Then main songwriter and frontman Steve Harley’s ego got the better of him and the band split.

It was around then he wrote ‘Come Up And See Me’, the giant sized success of which set his terrifying ego in rock formaldehyde.

So last night was billed as “Steve Harley And Cockney Rebel”, and we were never introduced to the band. From sight I figured it was made up of half mark 1 and half mark 2 Rebel, with some young dude on fiddle.

He was awesome.

And, despite Harley’s colossal ego still finding time to moider on about how Lorraine Kelly used to have pictures of him on her wall (for ten minutes), and a botched, uninterested ‘Tumbling Down’ (my favourite song ever, a lot of the time) the thing was excellent. ‘Sebastian’ was sublime. If you don’t have that shit in your life, go download it.

Actually, fuck it, Steve can sue me. Here’s an MP3. Don’t say I never give you anything. If this isn’t the greatest (and crackliest, word to vinyl!) song you’ve heard, like, ever, kill yourself, and if you can’t stomach that, cut off your ears and send them to Raekwon, he needs them more than you (why can’t the Chef pick a beat for Shit? Is the Chef deaf?).

By the way Steve Harley was the most handsome man in the world for a week or two in 1976. He still looks pretty good. But what is it with white dude’s ageing that makes them all look like Albert Stepte? Will my mouth shrink, my nose enlarge and my cin jut? Will we all be Spitting Image Puppets?

Maybe.

See that nice photo? That’s me and Wade an Cibella rocking Rakehell’s Revels in the poncey middle of London last week. We’re doing it again this Tuesday, I’m gonna play ‘Sebastian’, crackles an all.

Right, I off to sleep. I’ll leave you with this, the Roc refugees MOP in an interview with Vibe…

Lil Fame: I fucks wit’ SpongeBob.

Billy Danze: SpongeBob is like the Smurfs, dog, you gotta love it. He got his little Crabbie Patty. He’s a crab but the nigga got lobster claws and shit. It’s dope.

LF: They interviewing us about a sponge, nigga!

BD: A sponge with some square-ass pants, and the nigga got arms coming out the sponge.

LF: I watch SpongeBob with my son. Keeps the little nigga quiet.

BD: That’s something to watch with the kids.

LF: Yeah, definitely. Thumbs up.

MOP RATING: two guns up

Who could make it happen like Dirt?

No one, that’s who.

This shit is supremely dope, praise be to Allah.

Oh, all my South Welsh peoples, I’m supporting the GLC at Newport Arena on the 15th and the 16th. That’s Wednesday and Thursday. How big is that arena? I have never been.

Wade just rang.

“I have a new story,” say he. “Well, I think it’s a news story. You know this girl I’ve been shagging?”

At this point one has to stop Wade. It could be anybody. As it transpires, it’s Moby’s ex, who has “amazing fake tits.”

“I am so in love with her, he says. “She is amazing.”

Who? I demand, perhaps a little agitated.

“Nicky,” Wade says, “And Nicky said, if you run into Moby tonight, don’t talk to him, because he’s really upset about me having sex with you. He saw a photo of you and it really freaked him out. He’s in a really bad place right now.”

Poor Moby! Man, it must SUCK being Moby. You’ve made fifteen billion dollars off of flogging techno to car advert people, and some long hair Limey Swede with tiny teeth in a bobsleigh outfit can come along and piss all over your chips.

Moby, or Wade? What does this glamorous lady with the surgically enhanced bosoms see in my man with the suitcase full of blouses? LADIES! Look at the pictures. I have taken a few things that ladies I know seem to consider important when choosing between two men. So read the facts. And decide - who would YOU?

HEIGHT:

Moby is super small

Wade is pretty tall.

TEETH:

Moby has a bunch of pretty nice, normal, white teeth. Big sexy vampire fangs, good clean bite.

Wade has very small teeth. His teeth are little. Like babies’ teeth.

CA$H:

Moby can afford to have his own vegan cafe in New York’s fashionable Lower East Side, and employ loads of hot ladyboys called Paulo.

Wade can afford a cup of tea in East Finchley’s Local Cafe. Just about.

HAIR:

Moby doesn’t have any hair.

Wade has lots of hair! It is not always as clean as it could be, but there is lots of it.
TUNES:

Moby has mastered big-beated dance production, taking in techno, thrash, trance, and very occasional gabba.

Wade plays about eight chords with weight and passion. His singing voice, at best a rich, velvety baritone, can sometimes pain the ears like Tweety Pie.

BEEF:

Moby has beef with Eminem, Outkast, and Anthrax.

Wade has beef with Arthur Baker, and some posh male model called Eustace or something.

CLOTHES:

Moby seems to like dressing as a spaceman.

Wade, one time, went out in a pink skintight bobsleigh outfit. You could see the hairs on his nuts. He has a pastel jumper with a threedeefelt golfer on it.

DIET:

Moby is a nice vegan, so he prolly pisses out his poo or something. Maybe he has nice puddings though.

Wade likes eating sweetcorn and broccoli and steak, but his day to day diet is not incredible.

HOME:

Moby has three homes, one of those is a mansion in Upstate New York. I heard he was buying an island next to Dave Stewart’s.

Wade is homeless.

CELEBRITY MATES:

Moby is mates with John Kerry and Blink 182.

Wade is mates with Akira The Don and Towers Of London.

CELEBRITY SHAGS

Moby rubbed his willy up Winona Ryders leg once.

Wade shared a grubby futon with Mairead from Queens Of Noize.

RHYMES:

Moby - Obi (as in Trice), Obi (as in One Kenobi), Kenobi (as in Obi One), Toby (as in Anstis), Nairobi (as in a country in Africa. Or a city. Maybe a kind of detergent), Kobe (as in Rape Case), Gobi (as in that desert in central Asia), Adobe (as in that software I don’t know anyone that’s paid for), I Am The One And Only (as in that awesome song).

Wade - laid (as in get), paid (he wishes), lemonade (as in 8p Tescos), spade (as in digging holes), raid (as when the cops come and shut down his parties), afraid (of going bald)… hang on, let’s check a Rhyming Dictionary.

Ooooh kay!

1 syllable:
ade, aid, aide, bade, bayed, blade, braid, cade, dade, eyde, fade, fayed, flayed, frayed, gade, glade, grade, hade, haid, heyd, heyde, jade, kade, lade, laid, made, maid, mayde, paid, played, prayed, preyed, quade, quaid, raid, rayed, schade, schrade, shade, slade, spaid, spayd, spayde, sprayed, stade, staid, stayed, strayed, suede, swayed, they’d, trade, wade, waid, waide, weighed, zaid

2 syllables:
afraid, air raid, allayed, arcade, arrayed, band aid, betrayed, blockade, brascade, brigade, brocade, buffeted, cascade, charade, cliched, conveyed, crocheted, crusade, decade, decayed, degrade, delayed, dismayed, displayed, dissuade, downgrade, evade, fan blade, first aid, first grade, forbade, free trade, get laid, goldade, gold braid, granade, grenade, handmade, home-made, homemade, horse trade, invade, kincade, kincaid, knife blade, lamp shade, leaf blade, manmade, marcade, mccade, mcdade, mcdaid, mcglade, mcquade, mcquaid, mcquaide, mislaid, obeyed, okayed, old maid, outweighed, parade, persuade, pervade, portrayed, prepaid, remade, repaid, replayed, sauteed, sayed, slave trade, surveyed, tirade, unmade, unpaid, unswayed, upgrade

3 syllables:
carriage trade, colonnade, disobeyed, fifth crusade, filleted, first crusade, foreign aid, fourth crusade, hand grenade, hearing aid, lady’s maid, lemonade, masquerade, metrodade, not delayed, nurse’s aide, nursing aide, overpaid, overplayed, overstayed, palisade, promenade, rotor blade, rudder blade, serenade, shoulder blade, sick parade, sixth crusade, smoke grenade, teaching aid, third crusade, unafraid, underpaid, underplayed, usaid, window shade, wiper blade, youth crusade

4 syllables:
balance of trade, financial aid, fire brigade, medical aid, mutual aid, naval blockade, penny arcade, rifle grenade, second crusade, seventh crusade

6 syllables:
lieutenant junior grade, military blockade

7 syllables:
audiovisual aid

9 syllables:
combination in restraint of trade

11 syllables:
general agreement on tariffs and trade

Wade wins the Googlefight! and Wade wins rhymes, then. Dunno about the rest. What you think ladies? Moby is short. Short is good, huh?

Wade’s most recent celebrity ex was Dave Gahn from Depeche Mode’s last wife. Said Wade: “Whaddya mean she’s a life coach! She said we have to make lists and reward each other if we complete tasks. Then we will have domestic harmony.”

And so we shall.

“If a man is caught in the act of raping a young woman who is not engaged, he must pay fifty pieces of silver to her father. Then he must marry the young woman because he violated her, and he will never be allowed to divorce her.”
(Deuteronomy 22:28-29 NAB)
You hear that, fool? Pay the father! And no divorce! NEVER! No divorce! None! That is your punishment, raper!

Hahaha. God cracks me up.

So, I have been travelling again - I went nowhere near a computer, however, so no updates.

What was it, when did last we speak? Right. Yes. I went to London, and Wade and I DJed at this totally lush place under London. It was VERY FUN. So we are going to do it every week, now. With our amazing new DJ pal Belle who also does the amazing JAZZY SING ish. Yes yes.

I was all white, and on red wine again, but I DIDN’T RUIN MY NEW ODB SHIRT! And wifebeater.

After that, Wade and I went to wee Teddy’s party, and fled at 5 or 6, as we had to be up early, and it was descending into American Pie territory.

We slept on Cazals’ kitchen floor, with a coat and some curtain netting as blankets. YES YES!

And lo, I did rush to Old Street to meet nice Claire from the Western Mail and do a photoshoot and an interview. It was for a HOT SHIT IN 2005 type of a feature. I was to be the HOT SHIT music making thing, and this Andy Jones dude, although he might be professionally known as Andrew J Jones, was to be the HOT SHIT artist dude, which is impressive, as he is actually SHIT HOT. As you can see from the lovely picture comic thing to the top right. Along with Nicholas Gurewitch

dude’s doing the hottest shit with words and pictures today.

He also has an excellent beard. And is Welsh. His flatmate grew up in Dyffryn Nantlle too, which makes him one of, like, three of us.

So that was all good. Wade and I went to East Finchley to see house people after that. OH GOD! I forgot how beautiful East Finchley is. It is perfect! You can breathe the air! There is no crime! Local Cafe tastes like shit! But it’s called Local Cafe! And for what you’d spend on a crappy one bed loft in Gayditch you get A HUGE HOUSE! With three bedrooms and a STUDY and a garden and a FENCE!

After that I did another interview that I should probably have said “I don’t know” more in, and got a train to Bath, where Birddogg took me to a nice hip-hop night. Bath at night is some scary shit. People wandering around in Elvis costumes and shit.

Yesterday we played in Derby, supporting Mick Jones’ band, Carbon Silicon. It was my first support gig! And first gig in such a place. Such a place being a glorious and traditional small local venue type thing, in the back room of a pub. With a soundman who looked like he’d been there since 1963, and hadn’t cut his hair once.

As it was, he turned out to be the best soundman I have ever had. He said very little, we ran through one song once, and he made it sound awesome. Which I always said shouldn’t be difficult. It is CD, one vocal decks. Not goddamn rocket science izzit?

NO!

It is not. So we were DAMN GOOD, actually. The Carbon Silicon fans were , in the main, as I expected - a Clash worshipping cross section of original punks and inquisitive teenagers. And after gaping in animated bewilderment for a few songs, they got all noisy, la, and we left to cries for an encore, which was awesome, and then we got off stage and Carbon silicon were all like, that was amazing! Which is true. So we smoked weed and then we watched them and they took the roof off, then we smoked more weed and exchanged emails and drove home. Well, Birddogg drove. I slept the three hours. Zzzzz.

And today I took till 6 or so to get back to Bishopstoke. And some nutter killed Dimebag Darrel from Pantera! Cos he was all pissed off about Pantera splitting up! FOR REAL!

From the interweb:

“all i can say is holy crap!! that was such a freakin’ nightmare… i don’t ever want to be a part of anything like that again… i’m still shaking…. i don’t even know what to say…

i was up close to the stage on the side where DBD was playing…. then i saw the guy jump out of the crwod onto the stage… he was yelling something about how “you broke up pantera…. you ruined my life…. what about phil??? he needs heroin money…” or something like that then i saw the gun and he shot DBD right in the head… when DBD went down he kept shooting… then he turned around for bobzilla then vinnie… teh hole time i thought it was part of the show… i had blood on me i was so close… i’m still freakin’ out here…

after he turned around and kept shooting i was gone… i swear i almost crapped my pants… it was ####’ crazy as ####… people were totally messed up outside… i was standing next to this one chick and she was crying and couldn’t stop… she fell on the ground and it was like she was possesed or something… dude it was so kayotic its not even funny… the cops showed up and then people started sayin’ that DBD was killed… then people started freaking out even more…

i can’t belive this happend… its so crazy… its totally unreal and there’s no way to describe how messed up i am right now…

i had tickets to the show in flint michigan too… i don’t know whats going to happen… theres some blood on my ticket stub so i’m going to sell it on ebay or keep it or something… i know DBD is in heaven (or ripping some mad riffs in hell) #### what a wild #### nigth… dude i won’t even be able to sleep tonight”

“There’s some blood on my ticket stub so I’m going to sell it on ebay or keep it or something.”

Wow. What a tribute.

RIP Dimebag.

“You’re my doll
Rock n roll
Feel the glamour and pain
Touch me here
Touch me there
Hanky Panky.”

Wow. That is some genius right there, huh? I have had an excellent day, thank you - Wade and I are DJing at Cafe Royale, a posh place in central London, later, so I have spent the afternoon and evening looking through my MP3 folders and burning CDs. It was all very enjoyable, but then I discovered the folder of my little brother Alex (who is in Prague, with mumps). What a folder! And how neat! “Cohen, Leonard - Take This Waltz.mp3″, etc.

Anyway. I shall go get the train in a bit. We’re DJing at 1am, so I have time. If you’d like to come, it’s:

THE RAKEHELL’S REVELS!

“A blast of hot red-devil love in a most sophisticated fashion.

For all Rakes, Bucks, Cards, and other gentleman of ill-repute, and Ladies of beauty and morals of subtle questionability.

In The Grill Room, at the Cafe Royal, 68 Regent Street, an unbelievably grand and opulent little grotto from 1867.”

From 11pm.

So. The Bible. My readings last night bought me to the conclusion that one of the main aims of the bible, was to repress women. In religions prior to Christianity, women fared relatively well - there were all manner of Goddesses being worshipped all over the place. Then, along came the Old Testament God, who, as we discovered yesterday, deemed them all Of, and For, men.

“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.” (Genesis 3:16)

Genesis! From the off!

Of course, already today, I’ve had one gent point out that Catholics hold the Virgin Mary in some high esteem.he’s one of those, “the Old Testament was stories with morals, but the New Testament was true,” dudes. A ho ho. For a start, that whole “virgin” thing stems from a mistranslation from the original Hebrew. Whether it was deliberate or not is open to debate - that the only vaguely respected lady in the Catholic world is this wonderful, subservient, grieving virgin says enough in itself.

Anyway.

We had a wonderful example yesterday of a lady being raped, then killed by her husband for being, um, raped. Today, here is a little gem informing us of what Jesus will do to adulterous women come the Apocalypse. Forsooth:

“Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation, except they repent of their deeds. And I will kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.” (Revelation 2:22-23)

Go Jesus!

Kill those poor little babies. With death! Of all things.

Nowhere, as far as I can see, is there anything about doing unspeakable tings to adulterous males.

But why would they be? Says the Bible, Man was made in the image of the LORD. Women must call their husbands LORD. Women were made from a man’s RIB.

Prince removed his ribs, they say. I wonder if he was not as rumoured, doing it to aid self-fellatio, but to make ladies?

Hmm.

Oh, here’s a good one:

“Let the women learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression.” (I Timothy 2:11-14)

You like that, bitch? YOU KEEP YOUR GODDAMNED MOUTH SHUT! FOR IT IS DAMNED! BY GOD!

I have to dash. So I’ll lave it to good old Paul the Apostle to close this ugly little chapter.

“Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything.” (Ephesians 5:22-24)

Amen!

Zef has made a monkey that gets a banana! Off of a big hand!

Wow, huh?

Yeah. Wow.

So, I was surfing about, while my flyers emailed, and I found all manner of craziness. The KKK have a website! It is one of those very bad old ones that looked very bad and old in ‘97. They have a TV show on it! With a weird old man and a large lady.

And they explain their existence with the following happy words, and some nice pictures of a rainbow, all lovely, and a black rainbow, alls ad. Check it:

Love the Diversity of God’s Creation

Practice Racial Integrity

Don’t Race Mix

Imagine the world with only one race - only one culture - Is that really what you want?

…Because that WILL be the End result

Think about it!

OK. Thought about it.

WHOO! GREAT END RESULT!

Then we will only have accents to use to discriminate with. Yee haw! Scotts’ll be mad fucked then!

Not that Scotland will exist in 50 years. Wales and The North neither. They will be flooded, bombed, and ravaged so hard by poverty and heroin that, if other things haven’t destroyed them, GOD WILL!

HAHAHAHA.

Speaking of whom - I have been reading the bible!

Oh yes. Haven’t done that in years.

It is some pretty HOT SHIT, let me tell you.

Check this:

“Suppose you hear in one of the towns the LORD your God is giving you that some worthless rabble among you have led their fellow citizens astray by encouraging them to worship foreign gods. In such cases, you must examine the facts carefully. If you find it is true and can prove that such a detestable act has occurred among you, you must attack that town and completely destroy all its inhabitants, as well as all the livestock.”

You hear? Kill all the heathen people. AND THE PIGGY WIGGIES!

“Then you must pile all the plunder in the middle of the street and burn it. Put the entire town to the torch as a burnt offering to the LORD your God. That town must remain a ruin forever; it may never be rebuilt. Keep none of the plunder that has been set apart for destruction. Then the LORD will turn from his fierce anger and be merciful to you. He will have compassion on you and make you a great nation, just as he solemnly promised your ancestors.”

Can you imagine the SOLEMN GOD FACE? I can. Wow.

“The LORD your God will be merciful only if you obey him and keep all the commands I am giving you today, doing what is pleasing to him.”
(Deuteronomy 13:13-19 NLT)

You get that, heathen scum? YOU WILL DIE IN FIRE YOU PIGS! IN A BIG Goddamned PILE!

Does it say stuff like that in the Koran?

No wonder George Bush thinks he’s doing the LORD’s work.

He IS!

But, you gotta wonder, what about the ladies? Why do lads like ol’ George think it’s OK to fuck upon the ladies, to exert power over their wombs and shit?

Well, what it is, is is the Bible is full of nice little stories about how to treat ladies.

Judges 19:24-29:

(This dude “took” (by force) a lady as his wife. She ran a way to her dad’s. The dude follows her to her dad’s, who happily hands her over (after five days of nice meals and banter) and they set off home. On the way, they stop off at an inn, where the old man running it offers them a bed for the night. BUT! Some local drunks attack the house, a-banging on the door, saying they want to do the walloping with the bloke! So out comes good old inkeep, to diffuse the situation…)

“Behold, here is my daughter a maiden, and his concubine; them I will bring out now, and humble ye them, and do with them what seemeth good unto you: but unto this man do not so vile a thing.”

No vile thing to the man!

“But the men would not hearken to him: so the man took his concubine, and brought her forth unto them; and they knew her [”knew”, in Bible speak, means “had sex with”. She wasn’t an old school chum.], and abused her [abused still means abused, hilariously enough] all the night until the morning: and when the day began to spring, they let her go. Then came the woman in the dawning of the day, and fell down at the door of the man’s house where her lord was, till it was light.”

I slept on a doorstep a couple of times. It sucks. However, I had not just been GANG RAPED by servants of the LORD on any of those occasions. So I can’t really imagine the suckiness.

“And her lord [her lord!!!] rose up in the morning, and opened the doors of the house, and went out to go his way: and behold, the woman his concubine was fallen down at the door of the house, and her hands were upon the threshold. And he said unto her, Up, and let us be going. But none answered. Then the man took her up upon an ass, and the man rose up, and gat him unto his place. And when he was come into his house, he took a knife, and laid hold on his concubine, and divided her, together with her bones, into twelve pieces, and sent her into all the coasts of Israel.”

That’s the end. And the moral of the story is?

I mean, he DIVIDED HER! Together with her BONES!

What a fuckin’ NUTTAH!

But, you see, dude felt righteous in this, as the Bible explains, usefully enough:

“For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man.”
(I Corinthians 11:8-9)

Ah. See! It’s OK! The woman was made by the LORD (from one of Adam’s ribs, duh!) FOR the man! For THE man! For the MAN!

Yes yes yes. It all is clear now to me. Phew-ee.

More on this tommorrow.

Oh Dear Lord.

What it is, is: I wander the earth, right now. I shuffle from place to place - shorter journeys with my stuff in a blue plastic bag, longer with my granny cart. I used to read tabloids and broadsheets, in order to be on top of things, and to gage the national psyche. Now I read websites. And I don’t watch TV - I download episodes of South Park. And I don’t listen to the radio - apart from American talk radio and German trance stations on the internet.

So this Band Aid 20 thing has pretty much passed me by. I’d heard of it, of course - I pass newsstands. I recall, the day Fallujah was stormed, the colourful rags and the liney ones (bar The Independent) all had Will Young and Chris Martin on the cover. Feeding the world they were. The Sun had a premium rate phone line and everything.

But, like I said, it kind of passed me by. Until just now. I happened upon the website for the thing. I clicked the video page. I saw it.

The Band Aid 20 (dumb name Geldof) video is the single most offensive thing I have seen this year.

It is grotesque.

Even more so than our pal above right. (There is a story behind him, but I shan’t relate that just yet)

There were two things in the video which did not flood my lower intestine with bile - Justin and Dan of The Darkness, looking cheery, and playing excellent guitar, and Dizzee rascal, who’s little baby rap sounded like sunshine, amidst a storm of shit.

And he looked very embarrassed.

What was Damon Albarn doing, winking, like a bust up asshole? And Thom Yorke? I understand Jamelia’s ill considered desperation, Robbie’s naivety, and McCartney’s weird ego (I read him recently saying he “had” to tour America after 11/9, “because people needed the healing power of music”). Chris Martin and fatface Keane bloke are acknowledged douches. Poor Estelle! She looked so pissed off, relegated to the chorus. And those Sugababes, reading the words off of a piece of paper, confused, until they got to drop the paper for the chorus, at which point they looked very happy indeed.

Even Bono fluffed his finest moment.

I suppose many of my abroad readers may find this all quite odd. “Who are these people?” perhaps you wonder.

(On the Realest Niggas board today, in response to a story about Eminem and Robbie Williams getting all matey down the gym, someone enquired, “hu is this nigUR robbie williams?”
“he aint black, hes some british dude i think,” replied another user. “he did that freaky-ass video where he ripped off his skin and flesh.”)

Well, anyway, I don’t know. They are our music industry, I think.

Anyway, to erase the horror of that from my brain, I watched the new GLC ffideo.

Mike Balls, I am beginning to suspect, is Brian Harvey.

Still, it is not all doom and gloom. Kilroy got a bucket of farm slurry chucked all over him in Manchester the other day!

Now, to that freak above left - he is one of a dozen or so genuine Bush voters featured on a website set up to counteract the goliath Sorry Everybody portal, wherein Americans who didn’t vote for Bush post pictures of themselves with “sorry” notes, to prove to the rest of the world that not all US citizens are thicko meanies. Like the dude to the top right. Visitors to the You’re Welcome Everybody site are treated to seventy pages of cheaply doctored pictures, and a dozen or so genuines, most of whom are hate filled nutbags like our man up there. Isn’t he pretty? Isn’t it weird that these people are proud of their bizzare and backward supporters?

I mean, seriously, that guy is a serial killer. Look into his eyes! His Daddy was mean to him. He’s all fucked up.

Jesus, as we were saying yesterday, done died so that he wouldn never have to exist in such a sorry state. That guy should have been making plasecine hot dogs and falling in love with a beautiful blonde boy called Eustace. But instead he cowers in terror in some dirty hovel with is hollow ole finger bones shrink warpped around his rifle, having horrible night and daymares about violent soddomy.

Prophet Jesus, you died in horrible pain for nothing! That must totally suck!

So, I just saw that Passion Of The Christ with my Mammy. It was, as I’d gathered from the classic South Park episode The Passion of The Jew, a two hour snuff film.

And not a great one either. It was just rough. I am afraid I didn’t really get anything out of it. My Mammy, who is of the Catholic faith, said it made her sad because nothing had changed, and people were still mean, which is true. Nothing has changed. The money lenders remain in the temple, religious leaders use God as a way to retain power over their frightened subjects, and the pack mentality is alive and well. Watching the thing, I wondered what they’d do to Maxine Carr if Rebecka Wade got her way and The Sun printed her address. They’d tear her into little pieces.

Poor Maxine Carr. Poor Jesus. Stupid point-missing Mel Gibson. There’s a bit towards the end of The Passion, where Iesu Grist is all strung up, battered to a bloody pulp on his cross. To his right is a “nice” badman, similarly strung, praising the King Of The Jews, who has just dropped that one about forgiving them for they know not what they do and all that, for praying for his tormentors. To his left, a “bad” badman laughs manically at him, so God sends a raven to peck his eyes out, quite gratuitously.

DOH, Mel Gibson! DOH!

So. I reviewed the MF Doom album for PlayLouder. I gave it four out of five. And I voted for it in my albums of the year. Cos it’s amazing. Imagine if Lil Flip and Doom got together! WOW!

So, the Catholic Church continues to shell out big bucks for the indiscretions of its priests, nuns, teachers and, in this instance, a choir director. The Diocese of Orange County in Southern California is paying over $85 million to 87 victims of clergy sexual abuse. It’s the biggest settlement in the history of the Catholic Church. And a very, very sad story. This whole organised religion thing continues to miss the point. LISTEN TO JESUS, you knobs! He chatted SENSE! When did he ever say, in order to spread my message, you must not have sex with ladies? People’s bits make them want to have sex! Stop them having sex they will likely DEVIATE in SECRET! And HURT! And HURT some OTHER PEOPLE! Either chop it off or stop fronting, Goddamn.

Woah! Just had an hour on the phone to the Oo Ess. My A&R’s pissed off I didn’t come to New York this week. Man, I’d have loved to have come to New York. But I had shit to DO this week! These goddamned Welsh shows don’t, for some weird reason, organise themsleves. Neither these videos. We got Postman Pat in the first frame, shit is ill.

I gotta find somewhere to live next week. GROSS.

STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OK, I was just about to post this. As I was opening the spellcheck in gmail (yeah, sometimes I use a spell check, don’t look so surprised), I peep Teg G’s emailed me a link to some messageboard. What was I saying about Jesus? Michael Savage, host of the third biggest radio show in America, pontificating on that nasty prisoner abuse “scandal”, dropped these pearls before us swine:

“I think there should be no mercy shown to these sub-humans. I believe that a thousand of them should be killed tomorrow. I think a thousand of them held in the Iraqi prison should be given 24 hour[s] — a trial and executed… Right now, even people sitting on the fence would like George Bush to drop a nuclear weapon on an Arab country. They don’t even care which one it would be. I can guarantee you — I don’t need to go to Mr. Schmuck [pollster John] Zogby and ask him his opinion … The most — I tell you right now — the largest percentage of Americans would like to see a nuclear weapon dropped on a major Arab capital. They don’t even care which one…

“I think these people need to be forcibly converted to Christianity… It’s the only thing that can probably turn them into human beings.”

CHRIST

Ianity.

As someone notes further down that board, would Jesus really have been into nuking people?

And wouldn’t Savage and his weird mates be subjecting that fucking hippie to the same gross crap celebrated so vividly in Mel Gibson’s blockbuster?

Would Jesus pray for Savage?

I guess so.

WHOO! I AM A GENIUS!

I got up early and worked all day that’s what I did. AND I FOUND A COACH THAT DIDN’T COST £1500!

So, you London based people can now have a day trip to beautiful North Wales and be CLEANSED OF SIN on a lovely coach where I will show you FILMS and me and my mates will entertain you with NOISES, and Wade will make you SANDWICHES, then you will PARTY ALL NIGHT, well, till 1, then you’ll get coached back to London, where you can get dirty in sin again.

If you want to come it is £30 which is a fucken BARGAIN. You have to email me.

So. There have been updates on here. The Words bit has a few new interviews with ME in it. And keep an eye on the Music page, it is about to do something crazy ill.

BOO HOO THERE IS A DEAD RICH DUDE.

I can’t find a link.

BUT! Blunkett claims no wrong doing! SLEAZE! BLIND SLEAZE!

There’s a good joke about him being a wanker in there somewhere.

I am getting all excited now. The line up as is is up there, but more people will be added closer to the time. I am trying to get MC Mabon to play, MC Mabon is awesome.

Oh, go to the gigs page to book your goddamned ticket.