I ventured up to Manchester to see them t'other week. They were fucking outstandingly ace. The new stuff is rate groovy. Shape-throwingly so... I managed to get a video of Transition. I'd have filmed a new song, but i forgot that my camera has the memory of an alzheimer's patient... ENJOY! Woooooooooooo
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
Monday, 7 July 2008
People at Wimbledon
Oh you know who you are. You're the ones with that nondescript middle class, southern, home counties accent. The ones who shout "Come on Roger!" before Mr Federer serves. The ones with Union Jacks painted on your cheeks. The ones who cackle uncontrollably when a line judge takes a serve to the bonce. The ones who shout "Come on Roger" and then clap for ten seconds after the umpire has called for quiet. The ones who caused me to smash a glass with my bare hands. As my metacarpals tensed with unadulterated rage. As you failed to sing and clap in time with the following ditty: "ROGER!, clap, clap, clap" - (Repeat until Roger is about to serve, and then clap for another ten seconds after the umpire has called for quiet)
This is you - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And i HATE you. I hate you more than Blakey hates Butler. I hate you more than Andy Murray hates the English. I hate you more than Tom hates Jerry. I hate you more than Rick Waller hates Ry-fucking-vita. Quite frankly, i hate you more than John Leslie hates himself.
Do you want to hear my plan you fuckers? It's a good 'un. I'm going to buy a ticket for the centre court. Towards the business-end of next years Wimbledon. I'm going to get snot-flying drunk. Yes. I shall make Withnail appear to be a teetotaller. And i shall wait. I shall wait until the last of you has shouted "Come on Andy!". I shall wait whilst you clap for ten seconds after the umpire has called for quiet. And then i shall make my move. Just see if i don't. I will proceed to stand up and shout. And by shout i mean shout. It won't be the sort of shout you will be used to. The sort of shout you give to your young oiks on a Sunday morning: "Hey Sebastian! Come away from those cows!" It will be a proper shout. The sort of shout that can't be achieved without forcing a pendulum of snot from your nose. The sort of shout that soaks anyone within a ten yard radius with the stale, booze-soaked spittle of an intensely angry man. "And pray what nugget of bile shall pass your lips?" I hear you ask. Well that's simple: "MURRAY YOU JOCK CUNT, I FUCKING HAAAAATE YOUUUUUUUUU"
Cliff will be cowering behind Brucie and Tarby. Sue Barker will be covered in the shit escaping from Tim Henman's arse. Andy Murray will have a solitary tear rolling down his cheek as a tumbleweed dances gracefully past his feet. And John McEnroe will be pissing himself laughing. And my job will be done.
Be warned tennis cunts
This is you - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And i HATE you. I hate you more than Blakey hates Butler. I hate you more than Andy Murray hates the English. I hate you more than Tom hates Jerry. I hate you more than Rick Waller hates Ry-fucking-vita. Quite frankly, i hate you more than John Leslie hates himself.
Do you want to hear my plan you fuckers? It's a good 'un. I'm going to buy a ticket for the centre court. Towards the business-end of next years Wimbledon. I'm going to get snot-flying drunk. Yes. I shall make Withnail appear to be a teetotaller. And i shall wait. I shall wait until the last of you has shouted "Come on Andy!". I shall wait whilst you clap for ten seconds after the umpire has called for quiet. And then i shall make my move. Just see if i don't. I will proceed to stand up and shout. And by shout i mean shout. It won't be the sort of shout you will be used to. The sort of shout you give to your young oiks on a Sunday morning: "Hey Sebastian! Come away from those cows!" It will be a proper shout. The sort of shout that can't be achieved without forcing a pendulum of snot from your nose. The sort of shout that soaks anyone within a ten yard radius with the stale, booze-soaked spittle of an intensely angry man. "And pray what nugget of bile shall pass your lips?" I hear you ask. Well that's simple: "MURRAY YOU JOCK CUNT, I FUCKING HAAAAATE YOUUUUUUUUU"
Cliff will be cowering behind Brucie and Tarby. Sue Barker will be covered in the shit escaping from Tim Henman's arse. Andy Murray will have a solitary tear rolling down his cheek as a tumbleweed dances gracefully past his feet. And John McEnroe will be pissing himself laughing. And my job will be done.
Be warned tennis cunts
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