“Hackney Wicked” : #RAGE!

We survived, dear reader! The hordes of art people descended upon our little home for three days of terrible music and the smashing of bottles of lager! And lo it was like the bit in the Magic Porridge Pot when the little village is flooded with porridge. But with worse music. Avast! Look, here's some footage I took last night at 11:30pm:

See? Exactly!

Anyway. We had a nice time actually. On Friday we hung out a bit and drank some ales, and on Saturday we watched Gonzales destroy the Bugged Out Tent at Field Day. Here he is with The Cock N Bull Kid. And yes, that's Mocky on the right. Forsooth!

Cock N Bull kid recorded a song at Don Studios III a few years back, with Miss Odd Kid. I should dig that out and play it on The Doncast.

After that we escaped to my little brother's house in North London, where he and his lady were kind enough to beat us at Articulate. On Sunday we went to Ikea, and I had a meltdown in the carpark because I was hungry and nobody was taking my suggestions as to how to fit the bookcase in the car seriously, and the bastards were piping shit chart music with no bass and too much top end at too-high volumes.

Today Gonzales came round and we did some dope music for the Donzo mixtape.

This evening I played some Gay Tony and started doing some more Dondoodles. That's one up top.

Anyway. Enough of me. How are you?


As if I didn't have enough to do, for some reason tonight on a total whim I decided to strat doing this thing on Twitter that I have dubbed, "#dondoodles". The deal is, you send me a description of something you'd like me to draw, and tag it with #dondoodles. I drew three tonight,  @nickshearon's  "A penguin Fighting the pope", @dipod's "chuck norris riding a unicorn with mr t + the shake and vac lady waving at them", and the one you can see above which was for @annamadeline who asked (with encouragingly politeness), "can I have a robot that hasn't got a mouth please?"

The first two I did in Photoshop, just cos I had it open, and I am experimenting with the new brushes in CS5, but that was a bit annoying so I went back to Manga Studio for Anna's robot, which was a much more enjoyable experience.

So, yeah. #dondoodles. Keep those coming in - I have a column in Tweetdeck tracking them - and you NEVER KNOW WHICH I MIGHT PICK TO BLESS WITH MY PLASTIC PEN!

In other news, I had a really good bike ride to the gym today. I wrote some ace raps in my HEAD, like Jay-Z, but not about not being a mason, and I named my company. Finally! The correct name has been evading for like, a year, to my constant dismay. Then today, when I wasn't even thinking about it, with the wind rushing through my hair as I bounced along the tarmac, the thing just presented itself to me. I am really excited about it. My company is going to put out music - mine, and other peoples' - its gonna make clothes, films, videos, cartoons, toys, books, all sorts of dope shit. It is the start of a new and beautiful chapter. I might talk a little about it on the Doncast later. Or I might not. You never can tell with me cos I am a MAVERICK. Well, that's what they wrote on my school report when I was 8. And they were CORRECT! I am taking that word back from John McCain right now. MAVERICK! MAVERICK!

Actually, it's not that good a word. Brillopad is better. Shout out Adam Ice Rink in the C-Section. That's an ill-ass name right there dude, I have to congratulate you. Or, I should have said, that name is brillopad.

A ha ha ha!

Oh, and shout out Paul Heaton, who kicked off his excellent and funny BBC 6Music show yesterday with Oh! (What A Glorious Thing). Serious! Paul Heaton from The Beautiful South and The Housemartins kicked off his radio show with MY SONG! What a MASSIVE HONOUR! I have been a great big fan of that man and his musics ever since I was 12 and I had a Now! That's What I Call Musictape with that one they did about a tongue so sharp it burst the bubble on it. When I used to live with Blake Fielder-Civil (actually he was crashing on my sofa and not paying any rent, and he didn't have surname back then either) in this flat on Camden Road in 2000 we used to put The Beautiful South on the stereo as loud as it would go when we were smearing our hair with Dax and deciding what cowboy hats to wear out and what indie disco to go to. Actually, I put Liars Bar on The Steven Wells Mixtape didn't I? Damn. I am going to have to track him down and see if he wants to make a song with me. THAT WOULD BE SO ILL.

You know who else I wanna do a song with? Babybird. I fucking love Babybird. And Prince.  Prince is the man. And Leonard Cohen. He's not dead yet is he? No he isn't. I bet he lives forever.

Any other amazing ideas?


So, I got some (ha!) sleep, and I listened to the noises Birddogg was making up here while I was down in New York, doing whatever it was I was doing in New York. Like, there's some ill stuff. But one in particular is just tremendous. it is mighty. It fills my heart. And prefectly fits so many of the raps I was writing in New York, tempom flow, everything. So, what I've done, is draw various raps, and bits of raps, together, to create this New York song that's been brewing all the time I've been here. It is best I get it out now, before I FORGET. Annoyingly, the necassary component is missing. So piss.

Bad: All the stuff I bought last week - food, drink, socks, weed - is gone. Mostly. I got a lot of Ritz crackers, peanut butter and macaroni. Good: There's a Death's Head Moth on my window. (See right) Bad: There is animal shit by my window. Good: The air outside is fresh and envigorating. Bad: The air in the top level of the house, in which I am supposed to be dwelling, is thick with the stink of animal and of animal excrement.

I went to turn on the sauna earlier, and nearly trod in cat shit. Or dog shit. It could be both. Whatever. It's like, wow, sauna! Oh, catshit. Wow! Oh. Wow! Oh. Etc. So, I wanted to go into town and get a job today, to pay for my ticket back to New York, but waited about for people to come with me rather than just doing it, and the end result is it's super late now, too late to get a job anywhere, and everyone's going into town to go out, save me, who must stay at home cos he has no ID (this is a worry), and it's too far to chance not being allowed in anywhere.

A ha!

So I should write more now. I wrote a bunch earlier. Phil is worrying that Amy has forotten his ass, as she went in her tiny car to take Cecelia and James over an hour ago. But she hasn't forgotten him. It's just miles from ShanGayKen to Woodstoock! A HA!

I just asked Spiky if he has a message for the world. He said, "spitroast!" So there you go.


After a nice little rest, I am back in London with a pink pack of eyeballs on my case. That shit looked nice on IE, but fucked up Mozilla. I don't know what it was doing to Macs. So he will live to the right. Read a bunch of Hilaire Belloc's The History Of England Vol XI, From The First Invasion By The Romans To The Ascension Of King George The Fifth on the train. I now realise that we are living in an oligarchy. Well, a strange, new fangled sort of oligarchy masked as a democracy. With a bit of a monarchy. But it is an oligarchy, nonetheless.

This book was published in 1915, and, interestingly, predicted that Russia would do what America has. The author is also in favour of true aristocracy, and I can see his point.