The Dirge Awards
The Brits used to be an important date in the music calendar for me, but not anymore: I no longer work in the industry, am old and disenfranchised with pop music, and listen to Radios 2 and 5.
There was a great article in the Sunday Times at the weekend (copying one in the Observer from the week before) about the death of the British music industry. Our new "big UK acts" are actually small-fry and increasingly localised in popularity within the UK, let alone with any international appeal. Ms Dynamite, for example, has sold virtually all her records in the SE & London. She has zero appeal in Scotland, Wales and parts of the north of England.
Imagine the members of The Who - inflated to a giant size by a mad scientist's experiment - stood over the British music industry and wielding electric guitars like axes.
"Napster and free pirated MP3 downloads!" CHOP! - a giant Pete Townsend smashes his guitar onto the heads of the EMI, BMG and Sony CEOs...
"CD-Burners on home PCs!" CHOP!
"Illegal blackmarket, made in China, CD copies flooding the international markets!" CHOP!
"Supermarkets discounting CDs to £9.99 reducing record company margins, devaluing the product, killing independent retailers and ultimately limiting consumer choice" CHOP!
This year's Brits is alcohol-free: they can't afford the champagne and have nothing to celebrate anyhow...
Badly Drawn Darren [Kerr] will be there though.
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
Emma's Lovely Big Chest
Scott and Em have new bedroom furniture: a hulking great standalone wardrobe which takes over their bedroom in a "man-eating plant in a dentists surgery" kind of way (I assume - I haven't seen it yet). As we need the storage space, we have gratefully accepted secondhand ownership of their old fixtures and fittings: one large chest of drawers. Scott dropped them off before footie.
At last I can get my mucky hands on Emma's chest without fear of reprisals from Gareth!
Badly Drawn Darren
If you know Darren and have a copy of Badly Drawn Boy's new "Have you fed the fish?" CD, take a look at the bloke in the nun outfit on the front cover and tell me it isn't him.
If you don't know Darren, at least you now know what he looks like...
Going Loco
Vicster went a little crazy last night: She totally freaked out at 16 year old boy next door playing his records past 9 pm. She was seriously threatening to kill him by ten. At bedtime she had us transferred downstairs to bedroom 2, and then an hour later at 11:45 back upstairs to bedroom 1. This was just after Hell froze over. Her complaints might seem slightly irrational to outsiders, but are completely understandable to me after our "adventures" with the noisy ****s upstairs at our old flat.
Normally I would be going out to Weds Night Magic tonight, but I have decided to cancel: I'm worried that I'll get home to find Vic on the doorstep wearing a hockey mask and holding a butchers knife and severed teenagers head.
Hopefully she managed to get hold of some ear plugs at lunch time.
Scott and Em have new bedroom furniture: a hulking great standalone wardrobe which takes over their bedroom in a "man-eating plant in a dentists surgery" kind of way (I assume - I haven't seen it yet). As we need the storage space, we have gratefully accepted secondhand ownership of their old fixtures and fittings: one large chest of drawers. Scott dropped them off before footie.
At last I can get my mucky hands on Emma's chest without fear of reprisals from Gareth!
Badly Drawn Darren
If you know Darren and have a copy of Badly Drawn Boy's new "Have you fed the fish?" CD, take a look at the bloke in the nun outfit on the front cover and tell me it isn't him.
If you don't know Darren, at least you now know what he looks like...
Going Loco
Vicster went a little crazy last night: She totally freaked out at 16 year old boy next door playing his records past 9 pm. She was seriously threatening to kill him by ten. At bedtime she had us transferred downstairs to bedroom 2, and then an hour later at 11:45 back upstairs to bedroom 1. This was just after Hell froze over. Her complaints might seem slightly irrational to outsiders, but are completely understandable to me after our "adventures" with the noisy ****s upstairs at our old flat.
Normally I would be going out to Weds Night Magic tonight, but I have decided to cancel: I'm worried that I'll get home to find Vic on the doorstep wearing a hockey mask and holding a butchers knife and severed teenagers head.
Hopefully she managed to get hold of some ear plugs at lunch time.
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
And The Ripper Was...
It took me a few more days to finish the book than originally expected.
Of the 140 suspects listed by Mr. Eddleston, he narrows the candidates -- who he believes have a "strong possibility" of being Jack the Ripper -- down to just two:
An unknown individual - i.e. the killer has yet to be identified by a writer.
George Hutchinson - a man who fits the numerous physical descriptions of Jack, who lived at the epicentre of the murder locations, who was spotted loitering outside the property where Mary Jane Kelly was butchered, came forward as a witness to this murder only after reading that he had been spotted by the other witness, whose witness statement was ludicrously detailed, and who disappeared from London at the time the murders stopped.
With the detail, John Eddleston puts forward a well-researched, convincing and non-sensationalist case for George Hutchinson. No crazy Masonic Conspiracy, no tenuous royal connections, no occult rituals, just one plain and simple serial killer. Well done Mr. Eddleston!
College Starts Again
They seem to start earlier and earlier each time: my final set of CIMA courses began last Thursday. It was Business Strategy. Surprisingly it wasn't half as tough as I'd expected it to be. The step up from stage 2 to stage 3 was pretty steep, and I was expecting the same from stage 3 to 4, but it was linear. The material itself was all stuff we had seen before. From what I could tell, it is only our application of that material -- in a far more strategic manner than before -- that has changed. I have nothing to fear.
Bumperty Bump Bump Bump
Went over to Windsor on Sunday. The idea was to have a pleasant stroll around town and scoot down to the river for a walk. It was bloody freezing, so we managed all of half an hour. The sun was out making Windsor Castle look fantastic, but it was just too frosty to enjoy it. Best time of the year to visit the town though: no hordes of tourists to get under your feet.
Everytime a jumbo jet flew overhead I found myself fighting an urge to hoist a pretend S2A missile launcher onto my shoulder. Bizarrre and disturbing, but true.
On the way back home we stopped in at the Sainsburys in Taplow. It's about 1/2 from Larry's house and I had the sneaking suspicion that we might bump into the Big Fella in the supermarket.
When we turned into the soap powder aisle I spied Larry's better-half, Carole, selecting her bleach (the toilet cleaning variety as opposed to hair / collar and cuffs), and got rather excited that Larry himself was hiding round the corner. Poor Carole - who was confused by my new glasses disguise and a weird answer to a straight-forward question - explained that Lazza was at home with his feet up: He had bullied Carole into doing the shopping whilst he watched the rugby on the telly and listening to a looped repeat of some Radio 4 comedy show...
Disgusted at Larry's behaviour, we decided not to pop round for a nice cuppa tea after the shopping.
Nobby Cheese
I forgot to mention that someone found this blog through a google search of "nobby cheese". It had to happen at some point I suppose [sigh].
Rip-Off Britain
I'm also shocked to discover a rip-off writer who has not only stolen my name but also ripped my blog title. Tosser.
Of course it could be an infinite monkey coincidence, but nobody would call themselves "Knobby" AND title their page "Wonderful..." would they?!
It took me a few more days to finish the book than originally expected.
Of the 140 suspects listed by Mr. Eddleston, he narrows the candidates -- who he believes have a "strong possibility" of being Jack the Ripper -- down to just two:
An unknown individual - i.e. the killer has yet to be identified by a writer.
George Hutchinson - a man who fits the numerous physical descriptions of Jack, who lived at the epicentre of the murder locations, who was spotted loitering outside the property where Mary Jane Kelly was butchered, came forward as a witness to this murder only after reading that he had been spotted by the other witness, whose witness statement was ludicrously detailed, and who disappeared from London at the time the murders stopped.
With the detail, John Eddleston puts forward a well-researched, convincing and non-sensationalist case for George Hutchinson. No crazy Masonic Conspiracy, no tenuous royal connections, no occult rituals, just one plain and simple serial killer. Well done Mr. Eddleston!
College Starts Again
They seem to start earlier and earlier each time: my final set of CIMA courses began last Thursday. It was Business Strategy. Surprisingly it wasn't half as tough as I'd expected it to be. The step up from stage 2 to stage 3 was pretty steep, and I was expecting the same from stage 3 to 4, but it was linear. The material itself was all stuff we had seen before. From what I could tell, it is only our application of that material -- in a far more strategic manner than before -- that has changed. I have nothing to fear.
Bumperty Bump Bump Bump
Went over to Windsor on Sunday. The idea was to have a pleasant stroll around town and scoot down to the river for a walk. It was bloody freezing, so we managed all of half an hour. The sun was out making Windsor Castle look fantastic, but it was just too frosty to enjoy it. Best time of the year to visit the town though: no hordes of tourists to get under your feet.
Everytime a jumbo jet flew overhead I found myself fighting an urge to hoist a pretend S2A missile launcher onto my shoulder. Bizarrre and disturbing, but true.
On the way back home we stopped in at the Sainsburys in Taplow. It's about 1/2 from Larry's house and I had the sneaking suspicion that we might bump into the Big Fella in the supermarket.
When we turned into the soap powder aisle I spied Larry's better-half, Carole, selecting her bleach (the toilet cleaning variety as opposed to hair / collar and cuffs), and got rather excited that Larry himself was hiding round the corner. Poor Carole - who was confused by my new glasses disguise and a weird answer to a straight-forward question - explained that Lazza was at home with his feet up: He had bullied Carole into doing the shopping whilst he watched the rugby on the telly and listening to a looped repeat of some Radio 4 comedy show...
Disgusted at Larry's behaviour, we decided not to pop round for a nice cuppa tea after the shopping.
Nobby Cheese
I forgot to mention that someone found this blog through a google search of "nobby cheese". It had to happen at some point I suppose [sigh].
Rip-Off Britain
I'm also shocked to discover a rip-off writer who has not only stolen my name but also ripped my blog title. Tosser.
Of course it could be an infinite monkey coincidence, but nobody would call themselves "Knobby" AND title their page "Wonderful..." would they?!
