LYRICS FRIDAY: Let It Ride

Moving like the fog on the Cumberland River
I was leaving on the Delta Queen
And I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
27 of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn't keep
Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Let it ride
Let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of the darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll
Let it go
Loaded like a sailor
Tumbling off a ferry boat
I was at the bar till three
Oh Lord, and I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Tennessee's a brother to my sister Carolina where they're gonna bury me
And I ain't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Let it ride let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of this darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll
Let it go
I wanna see you tonight
Dancing in the endless moonlight
In the parking lot in the headlights of cars
Someplace on the moon
Where they moved the drive-in theater
Where I left the car that I can't find but I still got the keys to
Let it ride
Let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of this darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll

'Let it Ride' by Ryan Adams and The Cardinals

Have a good weekend.

99 Problems

I'm on a mission and the mission is thus:

I want to find out all 99 of Jay-Z's problems.

I feel it's the right time.
I need help for this and, as usual, I'm looking to you clever souls to help me solve this rap-based riddle.

Please remember that a bitch isn't one. I double-checked and it's definitely NOT one of the 99.
In fact, one source told me Mr Z's real concerns aren't even social issues. The 99 Problems are more everyday matters.

Here are a few I dug up so far:

1) Jay Z has a problem with his garage door. It keeps getting stuck half-way. He's asked for it to be repaired a bunch of times but so far it has been to no avail.

2) Hova hates Moths. This is a real problem because he likes to leave his windows open at night when he gets hot. Moths fly in, attracted to the light and this disrupts him. He has to spend the rest of the evening dispatching them with old copies of The Hip-Hop Connection.

3) Jay-Z sometimes has a bit of tummy trouble. It's a problem when he's at a social function. He hates having to excuse himself for that all-important 'mercy wipe'.

4) Mr Z has always wanted to juggle. He can whistle but he feels that's pointless. His lack of juggling prowess is due to a lack of co-ordination due to waving his hands up and down a lot in videos.

5) Jay's newspapers always turn up torn and crinkled. He fucking hates that.

6) According to sources, Jay-Z would like to go back in time to the dinosaur age and fight a T-Rex. All of his projects have so far proven fruitless. This maybe because his 'time machines' have been cereal boxes with clocks taped to them.

7) Jay-Z can't get his head around Donnie Darko.

8) Or Boat Trip. Is it supposed to be shit or what?

9) Jay-Z has a big problem with people that don't take their shoes/sneakers off in his hiz-ouse.

10) Secretly, Jay-Z fancies the other one from 'Destiny's Child'. The one who looks like my old school friend Stanton only black, female and doesn't smell of cookies.

Your turn...

Thursday

Howdy,

How the devil are each and all of you? I'm still sniffling and snuffling like some kind of troll. I'm now starting to lose my voice so verbal communication is sparse and difficult. I sound like an old, wartime radio.
I'm also suffering from Similes. Everything is like something today like some kind of--
Anyway, forgive me if my head is on wrong. Flu has taken all of my deep thoughts and rational thinking and meshed it into a series of sneezes.
I went to the Babyshambles gig last night and a shambles it truly was. It was full of the kind of people who should be in cages (With children and old folk throwing coins at them).
There were hundreds of Doherty wannabies, hanging off every slurred word and wobbly gesture, throwing whatever wasn't nailed down at whoever happened to be in the way.
It wasn't a Shins gig, that's for sure.
I don't want to sound like a boring sod but drunken punk isn't really my cup of tea. I mean, I love my punk rock but I prefer it to have a more intelligent, unified atmosphere. Last night, was like watching a smacked up barrow-boy do sing-songs for drug money (Which is what it was really). People say that Doherty is the new Kurt Cobain. I think that's balls. At least Kurt had tunes.
If it sounds like I'm moaning, I'm really not. The evening was still cool because I made the most of it and, like I said in the previous post, it was purely to see Mans and use a ticket that would have gone to waste. I know Mans will come along and see a band of my choosing.
Brendan Benson, Explosions in the Sky, We Are Scientists...etc, etc
It's all about give and take.
Oh, last night I got mistaken for a drug dealer. Do I look like the kind of guy that would pedal pills? I was the most nervous looking guy in the joint (I thought I was going to get head butted by one of the many nutters that were bobbing around the place)
Perhaps that was the reason, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was my tee-shirt.

The journey home from the city was hindered by the fact that all the trains were cancelled. A quick ride home turned into an hour bus ride. This was after I played the role of 'Travel Information Man' to a bunch of worried and drunk people.
Travel West Midlands should give me a wage for all the people I directed to the right buses. I think this was purely because I seemed to be the only one who could read the bus time table.
If only I had the giant crab I could have made a killing.
Had to cancel an evening at The Planet due to illness. As a good friend recently told me, I'm not going to get better if I don't slow down.
So tonight it's a whole heap of nothing but bed rest and soup. Got to kill this illness before the freakend.
Hope you are all well.

Sniffles And Shambles

My spirits at work have lifted significantly due to the fact that we can now come into work in jeans and tee's.
Simple things please simple minds, it seems. Plus, it helps to spread out trips to the launderette.

In other, more rock and roll 'news', it’s the Babyshambles gig tonight. Peter 'Urchin' Doherty and his merry band of smack heads will be 'performing' at the Academy. I say performing but, as the bands potted history can attest to, the scraggy bandits have a habit of not showing up. This is mostly because of their oh-so-(un)crazy lead singer, a man more famous for messing up, throwing stuff and throwing one up Kate ‘Cocaine’ Moss than anything else.
He looks like some kind of smacked up carnie and sings like he’s being drowned over a period of days.
They have been known to knock out a hot rockabilly tune now and then. Sometimes songs replace the scandals.
I'm going out of morbid curiosity and because I promised Mans I would. The man has got his hands on a shit load of tickets to various bands (Franz, Kaisers and so on and so many)
Anyway, A promise is a promise is a promise and a gig is a gig.

It’s better to be out than in, isn’t it?

I know it won't be as grand as Okkervil River (Are you listening to those guys yet? Hurry, hurry before the bandwagon gets too big and everyone like them.)

-Things have been halted slightly because of my cold. I'm full up with it. Streaming. I can't look at a screen too long without my eyes watering and my voice sounds like Rod Stewart being strangled by a clown.

Happy Trails

Where to start? Where to begin? So much to tell and tell I will....in BULLET POINT FORM! (B.P freaks go crazy! This format is for you.)

FRIDAY

-Impromptu visit to Birmingham. Myself, Nick, Mark, Mansell and Matt headed up to Bar Academy and then to Ramshackles. Ramshackles is a super fun, super cheap indie club and it always makes for good times.
-We all made up our own dance to 'Do you want to' by Franz Ferdinand. People of all sizes, sexes,races and shapes joined in. We were doing our little bit for relations. Plus, there is not enough high-kicking and jazz hands on today’s indie dance floors.
-Learned juicy 'Christ Really?!' gossip from Mansell. It may or may not be true but if it is then karma is a harmer for some rotten and forgotten sod.
-Some drunken football fan pissed on my shoes on the night bus home. That was after they had graced the tired, night-swimming travellers with various footie anthems and chants. This is the main reason I don't like football. The old Lout Factor.
-Went home and played Smackdown until 4:30 am because Mr Red Bull wouldn't let me sleep. I eventually fell asleep playing a ladder match.

SATURDAY

-Day was hectic. Had work to do and not of the fun kind.
-Went shopping for supplies. I Brought Bob Dylan's 'Chronicles'. The only problem with this great book is that I keep reading it in a cartoonish Dylan voice. You know what I mean.
-Nick came out with a classic line whilst talking about famine. For some reason he adopted the accent of an Irish old woman to deliver the line: "They don't even have KNEES, some of them!" I chuckled lots. You had to be there to fully appreciate the genius.
-Had a minor rest. Played some fetch with our temporary dog-guest Bonnie. We're dog sitting for a week and it's always nice to have her around. I'm not a dog person by any means but she's great...and good to talk to.
-My good chum Truman texted me to say that he had name dropped me to a Channel 4 producer. That gave me a charge. It was nice of him to do that, regardless of any outcome.
-Headed to Wolverhampton and dropped my bag of stuff for Brighton at Mansell’s house. I was getting the coach from Wolverhampton Coach Station so he was goodly enough to let me crash after Blast Off (And Nick and Mark too)
-Blast Off wasn't so grand this week, back to the typical dirge. DJ Imran was missed because we didn't dance for that long. We did do the Franz dance again which helped Mark to get girly interest.
-Laid off the Red Bull a bit because Mans said it wasn't helping me at all. "It's as bad as beer!" he claimed. Admittedly, beer doesn't make me have chest pains and keep me up long after the night has died. I stuck to good old water. That just made me pee a lot.

SUNDAY

-Got one of two coaches to Brighton at 8:15am and arrived at Brighton at 3:35pm. Very sore but excited about being there and seeing my cool friend Stephanie.
-Stephanie gave me a little tour of Brighton. We saw Steve Coogan's old house/Ex-wife's house. I don't think the chap outside liked us gawping.
-Saw Stephanie's swish pad which made me want to get a better paid job and a sky-light in my room.
-Met up with my cousin Adam and his American lovely, Victoria. We then whipped over to see Okkervil River at The Hanbury Ballroom, which is a tiny old temple which has been converted to a music venue.
-O.R was supported by a strange post-rock group called Garden. The lead singer hated himself and not in a fashionable, 'Oh, woe is me' kind of fake way. He generally seemed to hate himself and his musical ability.
Choice line: "Thank you for your applause. It gives us the confidence to carry on." This was after the first song. I wanted to give him and hug and tell him that it would be okay, but I don't think it would have helped.
-Okkervil River came on and was absolutely excellent. Go find and go listen to their records and you'll thank me.
-Crashed out.

MONDAY
(Are you still reading this? Praise you if so)

-Got up at 8:30am and we headed out to see more of Brighton. One of the many cool things about Brighton is that it is full of independent records stores and cool tee-shirt shops. I would move there in a heartbeat if I had the cash.
-I had to get the coach back at 2:10, pausing to stop at London Gatwick. (Horrible place)
-Another coach from Gatwick to Wolverhampton. An old man sat next to me. He smelled of lettuce.
-Got home earlier because I jumped off the coach (Not literally) a stop earlier and got a cab to my house.
-Crashed and threw on the new Ryan Adams and The Cardinals record and fell asleep.

I had a great, life affirming weekend all round. The only downer is that I have ANOTHER cold! Still, it’s nothing a few Lemsips and a wee bit of rest won’t cure.

Sharks should never slow down

Hey, chickles!

Are you all ready for the freakend? What are your plans? Can I come? I'll bring beer and nibbles.
Anyway, I'm very, very excited about this weekend. It's a few days of fun with the usual suspects(Aside from a brief stint at work) headlined by a trip to Brighton to visit Stephanie. We're off to see the awesome Okkervil River.
If you haven't heard of the group then shame, shame, shame on you.
I shall blog it up upon my return (To record the fond times and amuse any of you that may be interested)

I'll also spill more about the Podcast thing I have been beavering away trying to record stuff for. It's been a crazy and hectic week but that's the way I prefer it.

Have fun all of you. Tell the bar tender that Chris will pick up the tab. Give him a wink to seal the deal.

Heat-seeking rocket love,

C-Bizzle
(Still not sure if I can pull off such a nickname)

The price of my dignity is a six figure sum.

I found out today that there isn't an awful lot I WOULDN'T do for a million.

To make up for the last post being serious...

...Here's a picture of a nut watching television.

(Thanks to all of those who responded to the last post. I will reward you with large hats or big hugs. Whatever tickles your pickle)

The Fear

I've decided to throw in my notice at work. Much like the various lovers that have come and gone in my life, I have gotten bored and they have gotten strange. We just don't seem to do anything anymore.
I have decided to hand in my notice to get 'The Fear'. I need a certain level of 'Oh My God!' in order to get off my arse and try to find a better, less stressful way to pay the rent.
I figure a month or so of intense job searching will yield something. I just don't like being in a rut and this is a rut.
Creatively, things are awesome. Trouble is, you have to pay those pesky bills. This is why I never take my 9 to 5 seriously.

This may all blow up in my face but I just don't want to be a cog in this particular machine too much longer.

Uber Unruly

Is it possible for hair to get too big for it's boots? I ask because my hair appears to be taking over my head.

My Fingers Get Wicked Air.

Bored at work? Try Paperclip Skateboarding. I often skate around my desk, grinding against my keyboard and whatnot (Whatever a whatnot may be). I can do some pretty smart tricks.

Ahh, Mondays!

Like Garfield, I too hate Mondays but I love coffee.

I want to invent a strong, caffine loaded beverage especially for the Monday Malaise.


I shall call it 'Moffee'


I'm going to call Starbucks and Costa now. I'm preparing myself for the inevitable bidding war.

Imagine:

-Give me a steaming hot cup of instant feel good Moffee, please?

-Do you want Pro-Plus on the top or marshmallows?

-Heap me up some Pro-Plus.

-Wafer?

-Hell yes.

-That'll be five of your pounds please.

-Worth every penny.


When it sells, and it will, I shall buy you all big yachts.

Here We Go Again*

So I welched out of my early blog retirement. I think The Steve put it best in his 'Pressure' post.
Error 404 also dedicated a post to my unruly ass. (Congrats In Order) Warning: Contains sarcasm.

***

Randoms...


















Here's a blurry picture of me at 13. When I showed it to friends they thought I was 9. It could explain why I get asked for I.D most of the time.


**

Thanks to Imran, the new D.J at Blast Off. He span some brilliant, uplifting tracks last night that rocked it. Beats the dirgy, whiney Brit Pop crap the club is usually famous for. Anyone who plays 'We Are Scientists' is a mild breed of hero in my book.

**

I am completely addicted to 'Curb Your Enthusiasm'

**

(*Please read in the style of Flavour Flav)

The Death Of The Propaganda

It finally happened today. The gay millionaire (or the millionaire that just happens to be gay) called me into his office for an emergency meeting.

-Chris, your last few posts have been half-hearted, uninspired and rather boring. The site isn't offering anything new. People want blogs that are, well, good. Your blog just can't compete with the Ho's, Geezers and YGWIN's out there. Dance floor sliding? Falling upstairs? It reads like the ramblings of a bored, drunk child. I think people have seen enough of photographs of your generic features to last them a long, long time? Is this what I'm paying you for? Is this what I'm funding? At least Ho can spin a good vagina gag and YGWIN can write about toast and make it interesting. You see where I’m going with this?

I just sort of stood there; half looking at Ralph, half looking at my feet.

-I'm pulling the plug, Chris. It pains me to do so but I have no choice. I'm going to put my wad into Zach Braff instead. I'm hoping he maybe convinced into making a Garden State 2: Garden Harder.

-I was going to do another story about crabs.

-Crabs? I'll give you crabs! Stop smirking! You see, that's your problem, you're not growing up. You need to stop all that quirky childish today-I-rode-a-crab-crap and do something of worth. Do you think you'll ever get a partner with that attitude? Oh, and get a hair cut.


It's been an (un) wild ride and I shall still visit all of your fine blogs. Ralph is right; you should quit when you've run out of things to say.

I'm off to steal any icons or fonts from the site before they take it apart.

Goodbye.

Oh, and go see ‘Death Rides the Nine’ if/when it comes to a town near you.

This shit, it seems, really is bananas.









(God, I'm so uninspired post-wise. This may be the last for a while. At least until I get my groove back.)

Calamity.

This morning I managed to fall UP the stairs.

Twenty-Five

Stephanie wanted a list of my 25 most played tracks on my Mp3 player. Here they are, sirs and sir-eses.

The Bar is a Beautiful Place--Ryan Adams
apx v7--Aphex Twin
Bird Stealing Bread--Iron and Wine
Pink Bullets--The Shins
I Only Want You--Eagles of Death Metal
Such Great Heights--The Postal Service
Manana--Desaparecidos
Road to Joy--Bright Eyes
Telephasic Workshop--Boards of Canada
Fuck Artist Only--Bill Hicks
Monday--Wilco
For Real--Okkervil River
Bar Lights--Whiskeytown
Broken Bricks--The White Stripes
Lost In The Plot--The Dears
Magnolia Mountain--Ryan Adams and The Cardinals
Lover, You Should Have Come Over--Jeff Buckley
This is How It Goes--Billy Talent
Mono--Courtney Love
You Set The Fire In Me (C-C)--Tom Vek
Concrete Schoolyard--Jurassic 5
Movement--LCD Soundsystem
Flight of the Eagle--Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster
What?--Brendan Benson
Evil--Interpol

So there you have it. 25 songs that make me shimmy, keep me sane and make me think random thoughts.

Random Moments, Randomly Written

The odd girl outside of the Light Bar that decided to debate the idea of artists selling out and the death of indie even though we'd all just spent the night in an INDIE NIGHT CLUB.
Matt and D.J held their own in an 'arguement' with a girl who, although full of vim and intensity, did not have a fucking clue what she was talking about. I kept out of it.
My exchanges with this nutbox were short and (not so) sweet.

HER: Who are you into? What's your favourite musician?
ME: Ryan Adams.
HER: oh, I hate that guy. He's so (Made a weird noise and rolled her eyes) You know?
ME: Nah.

**
(Earlier at the bar)
HER: You look timid.
ME: Is that good or bad?
HER: It depends what you're looking for.
ME: I'm not really looking for anything.
I then said that I was going to ask the DJ to put on something that wasn't 'a load of utter shit' (Partly to get away from her) She gave me pointers on how to demand what I want.
HER: What do you want to hear?
ME: Uhhh, White Stripes?
HER: So go over there and say 'Hey, motherfucker play some Stripes!'
ME: I might just say please.
HER: You could use 'Fatherfucker' instead. People don't use that enough.
ME: I'm going to stand over there for a while.
**
(Outside)
HER: You're quiet.
ME: I am tonight.
HER: I'm going to call you Eliott Smith.
ME: Why?
HER: Because he's a quiet guy too.
ME: He's dead.
***

???

***
We drank in The Gifford. A very bleak, heavy metal bar which is full of mean looking biker guys and hefty women. We were the youngest in there. Our table was a coffin lid. It was like drinking in a ghost train.
We then headed to Hybrid which was like the opening scene from Blade. A load of vampires dancing to industrial rock techno. Matt and I fled to the Light Bar where we drank red bull, danced on the cobbles and got the attention of the aforementioned nutter.
***
I've had my fill of Blast Off. I think I got sick of that place three months ago. I have to seek out new places to go on a Saturday night. I'm starting to become predictable.
***
Brought a bunch of albums for much cheapness from MVC.
Picked up Whiskeytown 'Faithless Street' for £ 4, David Holmes and the Free Association for £3 and The Catheters album for £2.
Bargains!
Nick brought me 'Clerks X' so I could watch it whilst resting up (Until yesterday, I hadn't slept in my own bed since Wednesday)
My rest was disturbed by a huge spider. I vacated to the couch downstairs. Bah.
***
Matt got us Sigur Ros tickets. Yeah! Better brush up on my Hopelandic.
***
I hardly have any money left after being attacked by bills and that expensive adventure in Southampton.
***
My knees are bruised and grazed from yet another ill-advised dancefloor slide.
***

Three Amigos

Honesty List

After reading a few other blog posts about 'Sevens' I thought to myself 'I could do that'.

I couldn't.

I don't know if it's from only having 2 hours sleep or if '7 things I'll...' was a bit too much (Or too little. At this point it's all askew) I decided to do a different version of it. A remix if you will.
For those with a whiff of interest into my strange little world, here is a random list of random stuff.


Before I Die I Want To:

• Swim with sharks
• Write more films
• Make a punk/folk record
• Direct a music video
• Meet Ryan Adams
• Slap a celebrity on my 'Celebrity Slap List'
• Shag a celebity on my 'Celebrity Shag List'
• Go to NYC, Utah etc
• Perform stand-up properly
• Own a monkey for a day (Maybe two)
• Design tee-shirts

I Know I Will Never:

• Watch 'Watership Down' again
• Do most of the things in the list above
• Have children
• Get my hardcover 'Dark Knight Returns' back
• Meet Woody Allen
• Drive a car
• Smoke
• Commit myself to someone
• Live to be an old man
• Get tired of my band of brothers

I look for the following things in the opposite sex:

• Creativity
• Humour
• Truth
• Grace
• Good music and film taste
• Nice enough face

I'd be lying if I said I was:

• Flawless
• Good at sports
• A good dancer
• A half-decent singer
• Whitney Houston
• A fan of mobile phones
• Good with technology

I don't believe in the following things:

• Religion
• The British Government
• War (I'd be a bit fucked up if I did)
• Love
• Reality television
• Eric fucking Idle

I fancy the following rich, famous or otherwise people:

• Britney Murphy
• Jessica Alba
• Natalie Portman
• Alex Zane

I wish the following people were still alive:

• Jeff Buckley
• Bill Hicks
• Eliott Smith
• Nick Drake
• Peter Cook
• Granddad

I wish the following people were dead (Or I'd sacrifice any of the following to resurrect any of the above)

**Removed for the sake of karma***

There was more but I got bored.

Caffeine is my rocket fuel.

News Just In

Death Rides The Nine is going to be at Sundance 2006

Wow. Just wow.

Daddy Long-Legs (Will devoir us all)

I had an unwanted guest in my bedroom last night. He must have gotten in through the window. He was bobbing about, bashing against the wall and the light fixture whilst emitting a truly annoying buzzing sound. I thought I'd leave him to it because I don't mind Daddy Long-Legs as much as I mind spiders (Although they do look like spiders that can hover). After a while, its buzz, buzz, buzzing really started to get on my nerves. He also decided to bob around my head, interrupting the comedy DVD I was enjoying.
Enough was enough. I didn't fancy getting bullied by something so small, hairy and ugly (Not again, anyway) I reached over and grabbed the longest, hardest thing I could (Steady..) to whack it with. I found an large photo frame full of old photographs (Cousins, ex's, Steve when he had short hair) and tried to bat it away with that. Unfortunately, on the third over zealous swing the picture smashed against the wall, covering my floor and bed in shards of glass. I cut my hands and legs (I was only wearing boxers) as the long-legged intruder bobbed around buzzing away (Laughing?). I then had to clear up my room (Didn't fancy sleeping in a bed of broken glass) which took a long time. The insect carried on bumping into random objects, drunk on it's victory.
I cleaned up, got rid of the glass and smashed the motherfuckers head in with a shoe. Justice.
I then had a pretty peaceful sleep until I woke up to go to the toilet and trod on a small piece of glass.
The moral of this tale is DON'T use framed pictures to swat insects. In fact, don't use anything made of glass. Shoes are the traditional weapon because they're not likely to shatter (Unless you're Cinderella)
I warn you because I care and I care because I do.

You Really Had To Be There....

People came. More than we thought. Special guests and cameos.
We played pictionary (Extreme, ultra-competitive version) until the early hours. (Me and H beat D.J and Tom by about 26-8) We smacked Inflatable Homer around a bit (Sniff managed to kick him over into next doors green house. We had to rescue him to escape any trouble in the morning) and best of all, Raffles turned up. The little tyke poked his shaggy cat head around the door and stole the show. He didn't bring any beer though.
It was one of those easy, boozy nights where you really had to be there. You were missed.

Time to start all over again.


***Blairo and C-Bizzle's verbal tennis***

P.S Oh, and YOU....Thanks for the texts.

Freakend is upon us (About frickin' time too!)

I'm really looking forward to the weekend as it's going to be sweet to see some people I haven't seen for a while and to tear it up with people I don't usually tear it up with.

It all kicks off tonight with a small gathering of people at Westfield. There is going to be a theme of sorts: Booze and Xbox. We haven't had a night like that for a while; round after round of Amped 2 fuelled by stiff competition and jagermeister.
They'll be the traditional dance around Neil Young's 'Rockin' In The Free World (H and I's rowdy record of choice) before we crash out (Usually in front of early morning MTV2...'120 Minutes' rules)
This should lead nicely into tommorrows frolicals. A slow but steady built up to an evening at Blast Off/Corrosion.

This will consist of:

Nepolian Dynamite (Got to copy some of the mans friggin' sweet moves for later)
MTV2/ New albums to gee us up (The Go! Team, Modest Mouse etc)
I'm Alan Patridge Series 2 (The best series in my humble opinion)
More 'Gee-up' music
Possibly a water fight.
Vodka and redbull.
Taxi!
Wolverhampton.
Dance. Dance. Dance.

"To be young is to be sad is to be high....."

I hope you all have a merry weekend.

Now, what to wear......

Boredom makes a great office for the devil...

Not a lot of you will be aware of this but I have an agent. He doesn't do all that much. He just manages my affairs when, and if, he is needed. He is grateful of any spare change I can give him. He knows that, of all his clients, I am the one that will make the least money or as he puts it a 'minor cult success'.
Sometimes, he looks for work for me. He thinks it will help gee me up and stop me pissing and moaning about my 9 to 5. The other day he emailed me about writing dialogue for a porn film. I replied that it would be a snap since porn scripts usually side-line the dialogue for severe rutting.
He said that the project was a more 'arty' venture and the director wanted some tender moments between the, uh, nudie prod. They were looking for scenes where the characters are interacting on a more cerebral level.
"They could talk about, I don't know, giant crabs or something. You like that sort of stuff. Use some of that."
He used a smilie at the end of that sentence in an attempt to soften the blow.
He gave me the director’s number and I called him up. I recorded the conversation just in case it all goes tits up and they decide to stiff me (Pun sort of intended). The chat went thus:

-Hi, is this Ivor Strongteeth?
-It is he.
-It's Christopher Bate. I believe you have spoken to my agent Daniel Jackson Jr, about supplying dialogue for your latest, as-yet-untitled project.
-Oh yes! Yes!
-Are you reading from the script right now?
-I'm sorry?
-I was just joking. Nevermind. So, how would you like this to go? Danny wasn't very clear on the details. He started to get excited about emoticons.
-Basically, I want some scenes where the stars just chat about random things. T.V, music…tennis.
-Tennis?
-For example. This will bridge the scenes where they create sex.
-Create sex?
-Uh-huh.
-(Pause) So, you just want getting-to-know-you type chit-chat.
-Yeah, so it adds a little depth to the film. I don't want people to think it's just about the-
-Sex?
-That's right. At its core, it's a tender love story that just happens to feature money shots, honey pots and one scene with a very large orgy.
-Right. Would you say the ratio shifts more towards the rutting?
-Well, 40/60.
-I think I can do that. It shouldn't be too hard to come up with something to bridge the,uh, sex creation.
-We're aiming to make something like '9 Songs' but without the chap from 'Cracker' and Franz Ferdinand.
-Righto. I'll get onto it right away and email it to you.
-Excellent. I look forward to reading it.

'The Lathering' is on Playboy TV September 12. The scene I wrote features the leads talking about bird tables in a cafeteria but you'll probably fast forward it to the massive orgy.