Sweat, Imperialism, and The Suicide Bowler.

I had a proper weekend, you will be glad to hear, free of any kind of darkness at all. Friday's gig was easily the best I have done, thanks to my band, my rap chums, and my attendant peoples, (BOOF) blowing off the roof. I would like to thank Mr ETM for having us, and Greg the soundman. And to note that the Young Knives are dope. As ever with gigs, I manage not to spend hardly any or enough time really with those that I mean to, and regret it later. But aside from that DOPEness ABOUNds in EXCELsis.

So after that some of us had smokes and watched Ghostbusters again, or at least a bit of it, and I did my back in, and went to the RISE festival, and later bowling, and later the cinema. I saw Solo and Narstie and Billy Bragg and Suggs and Kano, at this anti-racist, Mayor Of London backed event, and then I saw GLC attempt to headline the main stage, only get no love and a facefull of hate from most of the black kids who'd been rammed at the front all day waiting to see their heroes. Some of my Welsh crew barged down the front to show love and got the frostiest reception this side of Mr Frostie's mam's place, and wondered why afterwards.

The answer was verbalised in part later on, to the biggest cheer I heard all night, in response to some words from Nathan, closing the Urban Stage (home to the densest, loudest, rowdiest crowds of the day). "Make some noise for us, out here by the gates, the entrance, on the Urban Stage. We're not good enough for your main stage? Not Goldie Lookin Chain? Not Guns Don't Kill People Rappers Do? Fuck that BULLSHIT!"

Crowd goes apeshit. Sound is pulled moments later half way through dude's verse.

Look, you have a festival, and you get loads of British rap and rap-spawned-dnbgaragegrime-whatever-The-Guardian-calls-it-this-year fans out, and then you stick GLC on top, you should expect hate. Because most people see GLC as a joke. And they don't all see it as a joke about "chavs", or the Welsh working class, or the Welsh, but as a joke about hip-hop. And hip-hop isn't a joke, to a lot of people. It is fucking serious. And people are sick of having imperialists coming along and taking, then raping, their music, their culture, and throwing it back in their faces.

And that's what putting GLC on as headliners on this day, in a big feild full of all manner of people, but mainly black people, will be perceived as. And was.

Nobody is throwing mega-money at Klashnekoff and clearing all his samples. You don't see Twang on Cee Dee You Kay. Nor Skinnyman. But had Skinny been on this stage tonight, he'd have got love, because he respects the culture. It's not a black/white thing. Billy Bragg didn't get bottled. Suggs and him got mad love, doing a Bob Marley cover!

They did One Love, and they changed it to "lets drop the debt and it will be alright", and GLC have a song called Shit To Me which rips five classic black hip-hop records and cusses anyone of colour that happened to go near the top fourty in the late nineties, so you see how people can get shit a bit twisted. It's a shame, because GLC have real hip-hop beats for weeks, and are entertaining and witty in the same self-aware way Biz was.

Black people are right to be protective of their music. Because it always gets stoled and passed of as white. Look what happened to jazz! To house music! I mean, people think the fucking Beatles invented pop music! That Elvis invented rock n roll! I guarantee there are millions of people who think that Eminem invented rap, and certainly there are more that "made it good". I get scores of mails off of people saying they usually hate hip-hop because it's "all materislism and sexism" but they love me! Jokes!

But this happens, "even" self-proclaimed "liberals" and "anti racists" reinforce this theivery, disrespect, these dumb stereotypes, at every turn. Black people have to put up with this crap all day long.

Em knows this, and so do the GLC. So I have no idea what they were expecting.

We went to the pub after, then we went bowling, and Ginge threw himself down the alley, and amazingly did not die, and then we went to see Wedding Crashers, and if you are wondering yourself whether to see Wedding Crashers, I shall post three of the text messages Gwil, who was sat next to me, sent during the many hours of the film's duration.

1: "This film sucks so much ass, my mouth will taste of Shit for weeks."

2: "Has anybody got any petrol? A lighter? Will it never end? Oh great Will Ferrel has just turned up - the "funniest man in America". This is the lowest point in my life."

3: "I'm beginning to understand suicide bombers."

Ginge fell asleep.

I thre popcorn at him and Benji. Benji did not fall asleep. He was a-woo-ing. Woo-ing keeps you awake. If you are focused on your a-woo-ing, you can stay fully on it, like Big Bruze, for hours, nay days, at a time.

I have been unable to focus on a-woo-ing for years, for various reasons. That's why my hooks are so good. LAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Went to the park today. Sunny and lush. Babies were dying all over the world, and I didn't give a shit. I was checking out the black ducks with the red beaks, they look like platypuses underwater. They're nuts.

Anyway. Big up everybody. Remember, just because you have a return ticket, doesn't mean you have to go back.