Monday, November 27, 2006

What a plank the world cup turns you into.

Earlier this year i seriously thought about writing a world cup song.
I aborted it after the first draught, just re read it, and it seems bizarrely optimistic.

You've got to run away
It's time to turn the other cheek
The guys that start the fires, are always the first to leave
but this year I do believe.

They say there's no surrender
but they do not speak for you or me
we have the lion on our sleeve
and this year, yes, I do believe

I believe in engerland
I believe in having fun
I believe in 4 4 2
I believe in loving you

Todays our shining day
for the engerland are away
on the summer of their lives
and not like in footballer wives

I believe in engerland
I believe in having fun
I believe in 4 4 2
I believe in loving you

so when it comes to the nity grity
Sven don't say its a pity
say your boys done us proud
and sing for the engerland loud

I believe in engerland
I believe in having fun
I believe in 4 4 2
I believe in loving you

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

I exagerate

I say Bez, the truth is this,
I was walking through town, down a side street, headphones on maximum,
on the verge of nearly singing when from nowhere this Silver Beetle
screams past with its stereo pumping. I noticed the driver was Bez,
the mondays version of Cressa, anyway I nearly jumped out of my skin.
End of story.

It was not the end of the story though, as I walked along the backstreet with its narrow pavements it became, "That man is a cock, if I had stood in the road
he could have run me over" so when I recounted the story to my girlfriend later that evening it was not, I jumped out of my skin when a car came past, it became Bez tried to run me over. Now I am not a liar, so I rephrased it and explained the whole thing again where he just made me jump.

Fast forward a day or two, I am walking down the same alleyway with headphones on full blast, nearly singing along and there is some wet cardboard on the floor, it looks like it smells of piss, so I walk on the road briefly, In my head I get a vision of Bez coming up behind me, beeping his horn. I start to think what an absolute cunt Bez is, and I decide that if indeed that did happed I would give him the finger and call him a cunt. In fact I was sure that is what I would do as he drives like a goon.

I get to the bus stop and I am still angry with him and replay the imagined incedent in my head, and decide that I might actualy get a bit nervous calling him a cunt, it's not exactly Dorothy Parker, so I decide instead that I should call him a yanky toothed bastard, as he has just had a tooth job, but he might not get that, so I resigned myself to calling him, tooth cunt, not ellegant but to the point.

I then got on the bus and thought hang on, this never happened, i just had a two minute bit of anger for something that never happened, and you know whose fault it is, yes, Bez's for nearly running me over the yanky toothed cunt.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

X factor

The x factor is a pile of shit, I am skint at the moment so have spent a few saturday evenings in, signing this petition will hopefully help those big wigs over at ITV1 to improve it.

Yes a Sigur Ros themed X Factor.

Its Genius all the singers can warble till their harts are content.

Sign the petition at