Hier ist eine kleine video of Neonfly at Bloodstock... not sure who that pink git on the far end is though...
Monday, 23 August 2010
Friday, 20 August 2010
Plugging someone else's blog... how selfless of me!
U2's manager attempts to claim that music piracy directly benefits internet service providers, among other retarded things: "Free content has helped fuel the vast profits of the technology and telecoms industries." Twattery such as this has not been seen in quite some time... read this blog post from Simon at 'No Rock and Roll Fun' to see the argument get royally shredded!
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Isn't it glamorous to be a musician??
On Sunday, I got up at 5.30am to get ready to drive myself, the lead singer and the other backing singer (performing with Neonfly) to Bloodstock festival in Derbyshire. Now, I don't actually remember the last time I saw 5.30am, so this would have all been very exciting and magical if it wasn't for my continuous swearing under my breath as I somehow managed to get into the shower the right way up. After a while, being vaguely ready, I then fell into the car and drove round to the tube station to pick up the lead singer, and then on to a bus stop to collect the other backing singer. Once the car contained its full quota of vocalists, I hooked up the Spongebob Squarepants satnav and we were on our way. (I must point out that, as much as I love Spongebob, his voice is possibly THE WORST THING EVER at 6.30am).
I had decided not to wear my studded, fingerless leather gloves for the drive, as it is impossible not to drive like a badass with them on. Driving with those gloves on makes me sort of like the product of Steven Tyler and Billy Idol somehow managing to have a baby, which then failed its driving test before earning several DUIs. So in the interests of health and safety, my hands drove nude.
We managed to get to the festival with only one service station stop (Yes, it is acceptable to have a cheeseburger for breakfast when you're a total rock star like what I am. What is less acceptable is then failing to finish it, but taking it with you for later and designating a particular glove box in your car as 'the burger box'. I'm not telling you which one it is in case you're in my car, stealin' my cheezburgers). I managed to somehow get the festival staff to allow me to park my car right by the stage instead of moving it to the car park, which was a ten minute walk away, like I was technically supposed to. WELL, IT WAS MUDDY! And my boots are super-nice. And my car doesn't like to be parked with normal-people-cars, it prefers the ambience of VIP parking.
Having raided the backstage area for as much free bottled water as I could cram into the car (to go nicely with the contents of the burger box), we were ready for Neonfly's set. The guys went on and played the first four songs, then it was backing singer time! The set went really well, energy was high and there was an impressive-sized crowd, especially in view of the fact that it was 11.15am! We took some pictures and then said our goodbyes, at which point the Vocalistmobile was ready to set off for London again. With a well-judged stop for a massive Starbucks double-shot Americano (falling asleep at the wheel is frowned upon in polite society), we had a pleasant and direct journey home.
After that nice little addition to my CV, I'm sure you can imagine my delight and honour at this unrelated conversation last night:
Guy in the pub: You should come on our tour! We need groupies!
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (Translation: I'm sorry, I think that's when I'm planning to pull out all my fingernails individually, so I'll be too busy. But have fun!)
I had decided not to wear my studded, fingerless leather gloves for the drive, as it is impossible not to drive like a badass with them on. Driving with those gloves on makes me sort of like the product of Steven Tyler and Billy Idol somehow managing to have a baby, which then failed its driving test before earning several DUIs. So in the interests of health and safety, my hands drove nude.
We managed to get to the festival with only one service station stop (Yes, it is acceptable to have a cheeseburger for breakfast when you're a total rock star like what I am. What is less acceptable is then failing to finish it, but taking it with you for later and designating a particular glove box in your car as 'the burger box'. I'm not telling you which one it is in case you're in my car, stealin' my cheezburgers). I managed to somehow get the festival staff to allow me to park my car right by the stage instead of moving it to the car park, which was a ten minute walk away, like I was technically supposed to. WELL, IT WAS MUDDY! And my boots are super-nice. And my car doesn't like to be parked with normal-people-cars, it prefers the ambience of VIP parking.
Having raided the backstage area for as much free bottled water as I could cram into the car (to go nicely with the contents of the burger box), we were ready for Neonfly's set. The guys went on and played the first four songs, then it was backing singer time! The set went really well, energy was high and there was an impressive-sized crowd, especially in view of the fact that it was 11.15am! We took some pictures and then said our goodbyes, at which point the Vocalistmobile was ready to set off for London again. With a well-judged stop for a massive Starbucks double-shot Americano (falling asleep at the wheel is frowned upon in polite society), we had a pleasant and direct journey home.
After that nice little addition to my CV, I'm sure you can imagine my delight and honour at this unrelated conversation last night:
Guy in the pub: You should come on our tour! We need groupies!
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (Translation: I'm sorry, I think that's when I'm planning to pull out all my fingernails individually, so I'll be too busy. But have fun!)
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
Twits of Telephony, part deux
See the first part here...
Today's answerphone message was as follows:
"Hello, I would like to get my car serviced with you. Please call me back on [phone number]"
Now, as any reasonable person would do, I decided to service this woman's car. I fully plan to show up in full onstage regalia (picture what you will, I suggest a sequinned catsuit with bovver boots and a stetson) and bugger about with the mechanics of the car before charging £1,240 for 'labour'. I think the customer will be satisfied. What worries me is that, having heard my answerphone message in its entirety before leaving her details, this woman thinks a repair garage is called 'Ellen Gallagher'. I think an IQ test should be mandatory before lifting the receiver. Jus' sayin'...
**UPDATE** Got home last night, checked my landline's voicemail. I haven't lived in this flat for very long, and the telephone number there is entirely new to me. There was a message...
"Hello, I'm trying to reach Alexander..."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!
Today's answerphone message was as follows:
"Hello, I would like to get my car serviced with you. Please call me back on [phone number]"
Now, as any reasonable person would do, I decided to service this woman's car. I fully plan to show up in full onstage regalia (picture what you will, I suggest a sequinned catsuit with bovver boots and a stetson) and bugger about with the mechanics of the car before charging £1,240 for 'labour'. I think the customer will be satisfied. What worries me is that, having heard my answerphone message in its entirety before leaving her details, this woman thinks a repair garage is called 'Ellen Gallagher'. I think an IQ test should be mandatory before lifting the receiver. Jus' sayin'...
**UPDATE** Got home last night, checked my landline's voicemail. I haven't lived in this flat for very long, and the telephone number there is entirely new to me. There was a message...
"Hello, I'm trying to reach Alexander..."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!
Friday, 6 August 2010
Sexually Transmitted Insurance Company
The year is 2008. My friend, the props manager, is industriously making signs for our stage production of Thoroughly Modern Millie. Many scenes from this musical are set in the lobby of the Sincere Trust Insurance company
Me: Nice signs.
Him: Thanks.
He continues emblazoning his fourth giant piece of board with the letters STI
Me: Bwahahahaha!
Him: *Silence*
He tilts his head slightly and studies the sign
Him: Oh crap!!
Me: Nice signs.
Him: Thanks.
He continues emblazoning his fourth giant piece of board with the letters STI
Me: Bwahahahaha!
Him: *Silence*
He tilts his head slightly and studies the sign
Him: Oh crap!!
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Cocktails To Give To People You Hate
I have decided to publish a list of some of the awesome cocktails that myself and some co-conspirators invented. We did not actually make or drink any of these, as to do so would probably lead to severe gastric problems. But it's the thought that counts...
Partini: Parsnip martini
Dirty Partini: Same with a sausage shoved in the top
Onion the Beach: Basically just a whole bunch of onions over ice
Bacon the Beach: Same as above but topped with whipped bacon
Screaming Floorgasm: Any cocktail that has first been chucked on the floor and then scooped back into the glass. Preferably involving either radishes or bleach.
Long Island Iced Pea: Basically just really cold pea soup. In a fancy glass.
Strawberry Smackquiri: Smoothly blended strawberries and liqueur over ice. Taken with a large hit of smack.
Shite Russian: I think you can probably guess this one...
Mai Thai: Green curry. Must be drunk through a straw. Challenging.
Man Hattan: For the cannibal connoisseur only
I will probably remember more of these, and might be arsed to post them up here later...
Partini: Parsnip martini
Dirty Partini: Same with a sausage shoved in the top
Onion the Beach: Basically just a whole bunch of onions over ice
Bacon the Beach: Same as above but topped with whipped bacon
Screaming Floorgasm: Any cocktail that has first been chucked on the floor and then scooped back into the glass. Preferably involving either radishes or bleach.
Long Island Iced Pea: Basically just really cold pea soup. In a fancy glass.
Strawberry Smackquiri: Smoothly blended strawberries and liqueur over ice. Taken with a large hit of smack.
Shite Russian: I think you can probably guess this one...
Mai Thai: Green curry. Must be drunk through a straw. Challenging.
Man Hattan: For the cannibal connoisseur only
I will probably remember more of these, and might be arsed to post them up here later...
Monday, 2 August 2010
Sharing
I have now added icons to this blog so you can easily share the content via email or social networking. If you want. But you totally should. Jesus wants you to. But if try to lead anyone to believe that my eloquent rantings are your own, He will know about it. And you don't want to see Jesus when he's mad...
Also suivez-moi on Twitter :-D
Also suivez-moi on Twitter :-D
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