The Week Before The New Decade Was Dope

Welcome back, ladies and Gs, to! As you may have gleaned, we had over half a million visits on Christmas Day, mere hours after we'd moved to a new server, when the data hadn't even finished transferring. I was a long way away from any computers at the time, which is why it took so long to fix.

But it is fixed now. The whole site, all 5 and a half years of it, is safe and well in its new time zone, ready for a brand new decade.

The above is my doodle sheet from Christmas Day. It was a fine day, spent with my Nan in Beaumaris, North Wales. We had hot drinks with whiskey, an ancient tradition passed down via her father, talked of the old times, and opened presents. I got some pyjama bottoms from my girl and some Superman underpants from my girl's sister. My Nan got one of those newfangled SAD lamps, that emit a bright white near-daylight, as opposed to the traditional indoor-yellow. Living in the future! I got her a new hot water bottle, and a furry pouch to put it in.

I was there for five days, the vast majority of which was spent gassing. I learned all about Featherstone and Cannock in the land before time, and Nan learned a little about London and Woodstock in the mid-naughties. "I heard what you did though," she said at one point. "You shouldn't have said those things you said about those Americans. It's not your president. Sometimes you have to say things you don't believe. If it's for your job."

Nan had two small glasses of Baileys and two lager shandys over the 5 days, and I drank two small bottles of Jack Daniels and a litre of Coca Cola. Nan doesn't keep ice in the freezer box, so I'd go out back and get me some snow every time I wanted to fix a new drink. I cleaned the bathroom, swept the yard, kept away from the Quality Street Tin ("get away from that! I'll have none left! You'll ruin your dinner!" etc) and made her lots of hot water bottles and of cups of tea. "Don't you go putting the water bottle water in the kettle," she warned, "you'll poison me!"

I had been doing that back home, I realised with dismay. What a fool! Other wisdoms gleaned included the one about poking holes in conkers and leaving them in corners to ward away spiders. "Of course it works!" barked Nan, "I get mine every year from under a big tree in Bangor where the men drink. They always ask, 'why'd you want to play conkers for? ' I don't want to play conkers I want to get rid of spiders!"

We did watch a lot of soap operas - quite the experience for me, not having watched any since an Eastenders omnibus many moons ago, wherein Kat Slater was going to war with her uncle for raping her, and pudding-faced Janine was pushing pie-faced Barry off of a cliff. Fast forward a decade, and another Slater character was the focus of the traditional Christmas Day high-drama, something to do having her baby taken off her for murdering someone's dad who raped her and nicking pudding-faced Janine's boyfriend, who pudding-faced Janine had tried to murder the other week

I once saw the lady who plays pudding-faced Janine dancing atop a podium in some foul, overpriced dive in Mayfair, surrounded by a baying throng of eligible bachelors waving money clips and gawping up the little rubber flannel she was using for a skirt, but that's another story.

Coronation Street, whilst being the only one of these shows with any warmth and humour in it, was similarly awash with baby stealing murdering harpies, and I don't think I've ever watched Emmerdale, but that was a menagerie of baby snatching and wife stealing pervos in flatcaps with neither the balls out evil craziness of Eastenders or the arse-out warm-hearted craziness of Coronation Street, so I'm not really sure what it's for. All I know is that TV does a whole lot of Murder Murder Kill Kill! Buy A Sofa! Sofa So Good! Mmm, Tits And Sofa! Murder Murder Kill Kill! Sofa! Terrible Tragedy! Murder! Sofa!

I was also  introduced to Deal Or No Deal too, a mad word in which Noel Edmonds dresses as an Elf and makes a load of mental people stay in his house for a week over Christmas opening boxes while he prances around gleefully having conversations with his imaginary friend, "the banker". He is evidently some kind of genius as over 2 million people tune in every day to watch a game show in which very little happens other than boxes get opened and Noel Edmonds sneaks crafty looks down girls tops. And talks to his imaginary friend, "the banker".

But, most of all, we gassed. From when we woke, around nine, until midnight, when we went to our beds to not sleep (I'd play Angry Birds and Nan would do Crosswords). Thank you for your film suggestions, but we didn't actually watch a single movie in the end. We talked. Stories that could fill 40-odd comic books, and may well do just that. We talked over The Railway Children, A Miracle On 34th Street, The Mummy, innumerable Poiros... in fact, the only movie we attempted to watch in full was Slumdog Millionaire, which we managed to pay semi-silent attention to for 47% of its duration. Nan refused to watch the penultimate 30 minutes, however, as she doesn't like unhappy endings, and the title of the film wasn't insurance enough for her. I wondered how she deals with all those tragic soaps, but then  realised that they never end...

Christmas ended though. I returned home on the evening of December 28th to a dead website, murdered by over half a million views on Christmas day, and spent the next few days fixing that, over-eating Quality Street (two cans equals emergency trip to the supermarket for a bottle of Gaviscon), and hanging out with my girl. WHAT A GREAT TIME I HAD! Now, all of a slinky sudden, it's a brand new year, and I have a load of music to catch up on and a box of T-shirts bigger than Danny deVito to pack up and send out to their new owners.

Yes, that's right, they came. My new supplier RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER did a bang up job as well.


No, Really - Happy New Year! Yes, from me and from Akira The Don From The Future, seriously, no, really - HAPPY NEW YEAR!

This is the big one.

We are going to do amazing things, you and I.

I can tell, from the manner in which the sun floods my studio this morning. Where does all the dust come from? And where does it go? These are all mysteries.

Anyway, as you know, I pretty much took a week off. A week off Twitter, a week of Internets full stop. I didn't visit a single rap website. So I had no idea that internets supergroup Slaughterhouse are at war with Benzino, or that  Raekwon is saying he's putting two LPs out this year, or that Sensual Seduction architect Shawty Redd has been arrested for murder, or that Elton John has been helping Eminem with his drug addiction. Hell, Jay-Z dropped another fashion-mag-looking pop-video that's got everybody screaming about him being an Illuminati Satanist, apart from Talib Kweli, who says "y'all need to step y'all conspiracy theories up."

You know, I think I was fine without knowing all that stuff, so maybe this year I should read less rap websites.

How's that for a resolution?I watched the first episode of KINGS last night with my typically brilliant roast. I enjoyed it. It stars Ian McShane as a contemporary Monarch if a fictional kingdom, prolonging war due to the blackmail of dark financiers. Mr Lacey, AKA our old pal JTWR, just rang me, and was filling me in in the New Climate Of Terror Related, Um, Terror sweeping the USA's news networks in the wake of the Suspicious Christmas Incident. I think I'd have been fine not knowing about that as well. I think I agree with March 2009 self, still.


And speaking of which, big up superstar writer Kieron Gillen who put Steven Wells (He Was The Greatest!) in his celebrated Tracks Of The Year list. I didn't do any of that myself, but I am finding other people's very useful. Kieron's, for example, hipped me to this shockingly decent new Manics joint Heaven 17 cover which had totally passed me by.

So. I shall also resolve to hip you to more dope stuff.

I also resolve to Be My Best, like they do in Dollhouse. How about you?

Zef (He's Still Great) MP3

Another lush day in London and I'm inside editing videos. Maybe I can allow myself a wee bike ride mayhap? Hmm? We shall see.

Anyway! Due to popular demand (we see you Zeph), here's the MP3 of Zef (He's Still Great) by me and The Svenhunter.

Enjoy that thing!

Then enjoy Dizzee spitting LARVA on Wayne's Fireman beat. I got excited!


I'm toying with the idea of having a messageboard on here. I suspect, you see, there is a mine of knowledge, thought wisdom and hilarity in youse lots, that, if left to your own devices, could turn into something wonderful. Any thoughts on that? Yae? Nae? Any type in particular you like?

Oh, and here's another Superdick. superman mocks the idiocy of lois lane

Actually, that's kind of fair enough. OK, THIS is a real Superdick.

the real superdick

Look at his FACE! Oh GOD! I will never sleep again!

Gordon Brown Nose And A Whole Mess Of Fuckery

So, last night I was looking through comics to see what to get tattooed on my arm for my birthday. Possibly. And a certain someone in the kitchen squealed with outrage and turned up Radio 4, and lo I did hear Gordon Brown Nose's dulcet, Anglified tones saying something about how the world owes George Bush a huge debt for getting rid of so many terrorists or something. I guess yesterday was opposites day. Baby Bush said something really funny about "spreading liberty and freedom". I was rolling in my isle. Spread some o' that shit my way Gee Dubbs! The Poles may have smashed up my pavement, but they're MAKING A NEW ONE! PLUS no one shot at me today! Someone sort that shit out! Anyway, UK news made a big deal of Gordon Brown Nose's visit to Americaland, where he stuck his cold grey tongue right up Baby Bush's gaping bunghole, before doing similar with The 3 In Waiting. US news? Not so much. They were more interested in The Baby Jesus' chosen Dark Lord, puff-of-smoke-appointed head of the One True Faith, my pal and yours: THE NAZI POPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

John Stewart: "I thought the media was controlled by Jews!"


Meanwhile, those pesky Chinese, not content with murking civilians, bloggers and perfectly nice Falum Gong practitioners on a daily basis, let alone fucking MONKS, have sent a great big boat full of guns and whatnot to that nice man Bob Mugabe. Wonder what he's gonna do with them?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And people ask me why I don't write about "world affairs" so much at the moment!