Posts filed under 'Ian'
Good Evening and welcome to another re-treading into the musical myriad mastery of a very cynical and well-worn individual who’s views have been described as bordering on “impressive”.
Besides this hasn’t been aired for a while and there have been so many who have passed through the charts, by the radar and then disappeared into obscurity just as fast. Sigh. Kate Nash, where are you now? Married to a Crib? Fair enough.
Tonight’s eyes fall on the lovely Tula “Tulisa” Contostavlos from Kevin’s favourite group N-Dubz. According to Wikipedia, because this is where I get most of my general knowledge, Miss Contostavlos is of Greek and Irish heritage and by far the prettiest member of the group. Hands down. You might think she was drafted in to fill up the hottie side of things but she more than pulls her weight with fellow band mates Dappy and erm Fazer.
That said I can’t really admit to any sort of admiration for the group in the slightest. With lyrics like, “Like a crack baby being born addicted to the needle, So much evil in people, Dappy said it 1st so I guess that im the sequel,” and “A-List, Play list, Even My Mums Famous, I Would Do Anythin’ for Some Source Stadium Status,” they’re not really going for an Ivor Novello but hey, who wants one of them? Snow Patrol got one. Tut tut Ivor Novello…
You won’t find me playing it. You will however find me staring at Tulisa at every available opportunity.
(picture borrowed from femalefirst.co.uk)
December 11th, 2009
News has been flooding in from across the globe as the Newsboost team is alerted to the fact that news doesn’t just happen on their doorsteps; it steps out of those cushy £1000.00 a month batchelor pads and into the streets, then takes a quick flight to somewhere abroad like Gibralter Gibratlor Spain and sets up shop quicker than Diane Lane.
Over in America it has been reported that a man from Houston, Texas has been taking songs a little too literally. Javis Jarmedy, 33, is well-known in the state for having an eccentric personality and sense of humour. Since being bought a radio on his last birthday in July he has been exposed to a wealth of musical bounty such as Huey Lewis and the News and Lindisfarne. Unfortunately this has had an adverse effect on Mr Jarmedy: in the last week alone he has spent 48 hours coming up with all the things he would do for love, wrote 17 letters to Bonnie Tyler confirming he was the hero she was looking for and sold most of his possessions, including his house, to sit quietly on top of a Bible in the hope that it would get the attention of Bon Jovi. Which it didn’t.
“I don’t regret any of my actions,” a slightly worse for wear Mr Jarmedy told local press, “I’ve spent most of my life doing things I couldn’t be ding dang bothered with and well sir, this finally makes sense. Shoot me if I’m wrong!”
It got worse though. For six days in September Mr Jarmedy trawled through every Walmart in the surrounding area, putting rings on all the things that he liked. It took the staff several minutes to remove all of the jewellery before escorting him off the premises. Due to bad security though Mr Jarmedy would continually sneak in the back and carry on with his quest until the workers were alerted to his presence again. “He’s a f*cking nusiance!” confirmed one attractive piece of a*s.
The local law enforcers have been put on notice of his behaviour and if Mr Jarmedy carries on in this fashion he will be put away for up to and including several hours for wasting police time. “I am more than happy with that,” he concluded before laughing at a fifty dollar bill and walking off with a black cloud under his arm.
December 9th, 2009
Having recently watched a copy of ‘The Lion King’ which was not hastily bought from Ebay for twenty quid or more nor a bad illegal copy without the shiny shiny on the front, I thought it was time to see just how bad the main bad guy from the film was. Bad bad.
Eighty-five minutes is not a long time to whip some shizz up but Scar seems to do it quite well. Having waited for the right moment to unleash hell, which sees his brother become king and then his nephew become the heir to the throne, he then waits even longer until the child is at the gullible age to believe he actually gives a damn. Thankfully we are spared the long silences where Scar sits, rolls over, scratches his welcomes and thinks, “F*cking hell, this is taking forever!”
First he sends Simba off to the elephants graveyard in the hope the hyenas will eat his face off, then he perfects a plan whereby his brother gets run over by a herd of buffalo on the M1 and pushes Simba out of the pride hanging a huge cloud of guilt over the small boy’s head (as he makes him believe he is responsible for his dad popping his clogs). Scar then promptly takes over, brings in his army of hyenas and proceeds to eat everything within a five mile radius.
In the end with everything hanging in the balance, and Simba still a force of nature despite being turned into a namby-panby insect eating hippie by Timon and Pumbaa, Scar slips up and reveals it was his dastardly plan to kill Mufasa. Then the hyenas tear him to bits.
All in all he does do a very good job. Not quite Cruella DeVille of course however with the standard British baddie accent you can never do wrong. 8 out of 10.
December 7th, 2009
Ian’s Christmas Party
Weren’t there? Well now you can be. Here is the 384 word version of what happened through the eyes of someone who was there but also in some ways wasn’t. Let’s start from the briefest of beginnings:
“I started off early. It was only 5pm and I’m buying a bottle of Jack Daniels, walking briskly through the streets and by coincidence I bump into the three guys from work I was looking for. They’re in a rush to get to the World Cup draw – I’m following because I’m not the person with a room at the hotel.
Inside and the bottle of Jack is gone in about an hour and a half, and that’s me taking it slowly. The room isn’t whirling but my balance has been compromised. They get ready and I sit feeling slightly under-dressed in my dark blue t-shirt, grey jeans and steampunk goggles.
I don’t remember how we got to the ground floor but it must have been the lift. I get outside and meet the people from my team – they can tell I’ve been drinking if not from the smell then surely by the slightly slurred speech and red cheeks. Inside moves quickly. Between initial hellos the first course is brought and I’m ordered to drink my soup. I think I had a conversation with my boss that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. I pretend I ordered the chicken and tuck in. I hope whoever got my beef is enjoying it.
There is a blur and an empty space where the desserts should be.
Plenty of dancing wildly to various guff the DJ plays. I drink some more, red wine from the bottle, occasionally handing it to my now equally drunk friend. I make out one of the senior partners in the middle of the floor. A lot of people stand around the side probably too afraid to chance it. I don’t really care anymore and continue drinking until I am in a delirious state of bewilderment. My steampunk goggles seem to be popular and disappear for half an hour.
When the f*ck did they serve the desserts?
It’s approaching the end. The last five hours obviously weren’t long enough. No amount of sensible behaviour and coffee will bring this yuletide bender to an end. After another hour of drinking alcohol other people have been kind enough to buy me I feel too distanced from the rest of the crowd and make my own disappearance into the night. I’m home in twenty-five minutes.”
December 6th, 2009
“All in all, the plant is one of the largest and most prosperous in the area, and, though situated outside of the main perimeter of production plants on the south end of town, is nevertheless a distinguishing hallmark of the community, to the eternal chagrin of most locals.”
(Extract from ‘Lord of the Barnyard’ by Tristan Egolf)
November 25th, 2009
Topical news today on Newsboost. It has been reported that during one of her concerts at the Manchester MEN Arena Beyonce, or the bootylicious Beyonce as she has come to be known as, invited a young boy on stage to join in with a duet.
The boy then proceeded to sing and received a kiss on the forehead from the glamarous singer. Bless. The poor lad is trying to find someone who took a photo of the magical scene as his mum was too far back to get a decent shot. Double bless. If I was eight I suppose that could float my boat although I didn’t start fancying girls until I was twelve and even then it was ones wearing gas masks.
Not only did he get the kiss though he was also handed by Beyonce a towel which she had used to dry her face. “Thanks for being my fan, now please take this sweaty piece of cloth as an eternal reminder.” Did she not have something stashed away for the boy to have? Did it really have to come down to some locker room junk, covered in beads of perspiration and dripping makeup?
Then again people are that crazy that they do buy things doused in sweat from celebrities, fingernails and other assorted oddities. In the spirit of this and in preparation for my astounding career as a singing chimneysweep (it’ll happen) I have chopped all my hair off and tied it into generous yet highly-expensive locks. Currently retailing at £19.99 – buy now!
November 24th, 2009
(Look At Him Spaz) He’s A Zombie Spaz – David Bowie
It has been suggested that towards the end of the eighties David Bowie struggled to keep up with the rest of the musical world. After suffering bad sales as a result of The Smiths stealing all the teenagers and students, the Pixies scooping up the twenty and thirtysomethings and Daniel O’Donnell continuing his assault on the over fifties, David was left wondering what to do next. It was only a matter of time though before some magical happened.
The legend goes that David and David Byrne from Talking Heads were sat having a coffee in a New York deli. David (Bryne) felt a little too warm and so decided t o take his over-sized red jumper off. Unfortunately though he was having trouble getting it over his noggin and thus a struggle ensued. As David (Byrne) wiggled and shook like sex on fire David (Bowie) pointed at the chaos and shouted, “Look at him spaz! He’s a blondie spaz!” Byrne at this point going through his blonde hair / pinstripe suit / green socks phase.
Knowing that there was a song lying dormant in there waiting to be left out David (Bowie) left David (Byrne) and ran to his recording studio down the road, hidden by a giant owl. Byrne suffered massive head trauma and didn’t get out of the jumper for the next seven years.
Bowie harnessed the spirit of the eighties: Synths! Changing the lyrics ever so slightly to also coincide with the 132nd anniversary of Halloween the single ‘(Look At Him Spaz) He’s A Zombie Spaz’ was released on 17th October to a fanfare of praise and adoration from not only his dedicated fans but from the hardcore journalista massive. It remained at number one for three weeks and funded at least twelve of his holidays the following year.
The song has been cast aside; given how popular Bowie was in the seventies it rarely gets any radio airplay and is his least favourite of all, even favouring that awful duet with Mick Jagger over it. With such insightful lyrics such as, “Watch him go, he’s ready to flow, he’ll knock you down with a whip of his gown,” and, “Jigging along like this catchy song, you know you been beat when you come up and meet…”.
One day ‘Zombie Spaz’ will be popular again. For now it remains a guilty pleasure and a hidden gem.
November 12th, 2009
Yes! Yes!
Despite science and most of the population of the United Kingdom saying that it wasn’t possible I have defied all to actually create the world’s greatest invention… THE WHEEL OF THRUSTING!
It’s only a prototype but my lord does it purr like a kitten. To ensure that it has been made to the highest quality and standard it will be accompanying me tonight as I travel back to the Motherland (aka Leeds) to see Wilco in concert and will be making most of my decisions whilst under the influence. Furthermore it will then follow me further afield on Friday, drawing back to Leeds but then hopping into a car-dro-mat and driving with Mr Head down to Didsbury to see how it copes with the Manc way of life.
Once it has passed these crucial tests it will be then sent to the first and only customer of the Home Beans Shopping Network, Mr Christopher James Marshall. I believe that is all gentlemen. If I could work this shizz machine I would upload a photo but I can’t can’t can’t so I won’t won’t won’t.
November 3rd, 2009
Having successfully re-introduced the word ‘loins’, the yo-yo and the finger waggle into the 21st century I am now on the lookout for further relics from the past to lighten up, brush over with some foundation and stick them in a public viewing box for 80p a pop.
Let’s get together a focus group and get some ideas brewing. Come on, chop chop!
October 27th, 2009
How appreciative are the elderley residents of the UK when they receive the traditional handouts during the Harvest Festival season? We were keen to find out. In order to do so we bugged senior citizen Arthur Bambo for thirteen hours when he went to the bathroom at York train station and these are the shocking results:
“What do we have here, right, lets start with the tins. There’s not even a label on that one, that’ll be interesting. Probably some weird meat or horrible shrunken vegetables in brine. Mmmm, lovely brine. I’d rather drink that than touch the veg. Okay, tin of carrots… five months out of date. Great. What the… cream of soup soup? Cream of what? Just soup? How can you… holy moley.”
Five minutes later.
“Wheat Bisks. Ha, that’s just Wheatbix but with a silly name. Such a rip off these days, why can’t they just come up with their own cereal instead of pawing off others? Wheat Bisks. What the hell is a bisk anyway? Probably just a spelling error. Oh oh here we go, now we’re into the quality items. Frozen ox feet, already dripping. Why didn’t anyone say there were frozen items at the bottom of the bag? I can’t eat these now, not that I would really want to if they were still frozen. That’s beside the point.”
Two minutes later.
“You have got to be kidding me. Stockings? Why… I bet they ran out of bags for men so they gave me a ladies one. Charming. Next I’ll find… yep, vanishing cream. Candles. Perfume? (pft… sniff sniff) that wouldn’t smell out of place in a cesspool… I best open a window… oh damn the key is in the other room… eugh, I… oh dear…”
The answer? Not very.
October 20th, 2009
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