PACKS OF MIDDLE AGED MEN

I recently had the misfortune of doing jury service (see previous posts for mouse/owl action on the subjects). I noticed that the dudes who had previously been lovely gents and chatted with me about absinthe turned into utter berks as soon as the got together. While all the women around the table rolled their eyes, stated their cases plainly and daydreamed of cups of tea, foot rubs, riding pegasus to a personal library in space, or perfectly sized penises, the men bashed their fists on the table and shouted a lot. It was really quite embarrassing.

I had to draw a picture when I got home so I didn't turn lesbian.

 

It was quite awful , but would have been funny if it wasn't so racist, ignorant, arrogant and overbearing. Like a mini house of commons. Harhar.

PACKS OF MIDDLE AGED MEN: 0/10

WEARING FANCY DRESS CLOTHES IN EVERYDAY LIFE

 

People will laugh at you but who cares when you're marching triumphantly to Greggs to get a sausage, bean and cheese melt in a pair of golden boots? I found these on eBay, from a fancy dress shop. They are listed as 'victorian wild west fancy dress'. Ah yes, Victorian England was positively bedecked in golden ankle boots. And no saloon whore was complete without a pair. I sometimes worry I will be mistaken for a genuine time traveler, one who has been lax in adjusting their attire to the era they're visiting. The downside of buying things that are only designed for one night of joyous, historically inaccurate frivolity if that they tent to deteriorate as soon as exposed to the real world. I had to get these babies re-heeled quick. Eight pounds. EIGHT POUNDS?! I should have just hammered some hobnails in. 

Other delights you could adorn yourself in, if you should care to trawl the fancy dress shops of the internet:

Or for the less adventurous:

You'll definitely be a talking point wherever you go. However your garments or shoes will probably be made of terrible plastic, bonded together with diluted glue made from the ground bones of lame clowns, and they won't last very well when put under the pressure of running for buses or washing up. Your long satin gloves or lobster claws will make it hard to operate your phone, shoelaces, knife and fork etc. Your cat's eye glasses and fake nose will make intimacy risky. However, it's probably worth it for being on the cutting edge of fashion.

WEARING FANCY DRESS CLOTHES IN EVERYDAY LIFE: 5/10

FINDING OLD LETTERS

On my usual weird cruise through the charity shops for things that smell of precious foist, I bought an old copy of Little Women. I don't like the story particularly, I tried to read it when I was a kid, but having been raised on Dahl, was disappointed with it's lack of bitchy centipedes and square-footed witches. But I bought it anyway.

Inside was this letter:

Here's what it said. I have italicised the bits that made me snort out loud at the bus stop (SOLATBS is the new LOL) and some of my thoughts are in a beautiful shade of hot pink.


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Dear Jennifer
Hi Pots here! I'm sorry that this letter is so late but better late than never! I hope you're having a good holiday. Isn't it rotten about the pirate radios especially 270? If anyone bothers to bring their boxes back with that stupid 25 shilling insurance thing, or whatever it is, they'll have to listen to Caroline but it seems as if they're going to take that off soon.

Well how did your first Sunday go? Church parade and all that jazz. (aw man, this is gonna be dull.) I hope you've been as lucky with John as I have with Alan. No I'm not being sarcastic. At last I'm actually going with him, he's super. (Maybe not so dull you dirty cows!) I'll tell you all about it at school though. (Dammit.)

How do you like the new writing paper? It's air mail really but it's much nicer to write on than ordinary paper. (Stationary nerds! Just like me! Awww!)

This last week's been pretty boring (cos Alan's been on holiday.) Last Friday my Grandparents were acting as rabbit sitters for the next door neighbours (they do it quite often.) Well if it rains the rabbit has to be taken in (cos they put it in this pen thing when it's fine.) Well Grandpa went to the doctors in the afternoon and it started to rain and the rabbit was still out. Oh I'd better give you a description of the rabbit first. It's white with pink eyes and it's absolutely massive, the biggest rabbit I've ever seen. Well Nana daredn't go and pick the thing up, so here goes Pots!!! (I'm gonna shout that every time I have to do something brave. Well here goes LaTrisha!!!.) Every time I tried to get hold of it it ran away but after about 2-3 mins I managed to grab it by its ears. Well its cage is inside the garden hut and I was just inside the hut when the stupid creature started to squirm. (Please don't kill it Potts!) I nearly dropped the thing with fright, I didn't know what to do but somehow I managed to bung the thing in its cage and shut the door. It had scratched me on the arm and Nana was calling it all sorts of names. Well I'm sorry that wasn't very interesting but its about the most exciting thing that's happened to me this week.

At the moment I'm a greaseball I haven't washed my hair for nearly a fortnight. (explains why the rabbit hated you.) Anyway I'm going to do it tonight cos Alan's coming home tomorrow Hurrah! You know the dress I was making at school? Well I finished it but when I tried it on it was miles too big so I had to take in about 4 inches down the back. Its OK now though, except I've only worn it twice cos of the weather! I can't think of anything else to tell you so bye for now
Lots of love and slurps (WTF?!)
Pots xxx

P.S Have you been to Staithes yet to see all the French boys? I'd go if I was you! I bet Feather's having a  real time!!! 

P.P.S See you at school. Ugh!

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HOW GOOD?

The letter must be from the late 60's I reckon. The stuff at the beginning is about offshore radio being shut down by the UK government. Here's a quote from a helpful website about it, from a DJ from radio 270:

'With the Government making noises about legislating against the pirates, I could see that the writing was on the wall. I didn't want to hang around until the end because, even if the BBC did start a pop music station, there would be dozens of disc-jockeys all trying for very few jobs. So, when Manx Radio offered me a job in January 1967, I decided to take it. I flew to the Isle of Man and, while I was there, saw the boat that was used to tender Radio Caroline North. '

SHILLINGS stopped being made in 1966 in the UK, but circulated until 1990.

This letter made my day, gave me a little British history lesson and made me want to write letters.
There was nothing bad about it. Nothing. In fact I will probably increase my weird charity shop raids in the hope I find more.

FINDING OLD LETTERS: 10/10.

PAOLO NUTINI'S GUT

I saw this tonight, jiggling away under a floral shirt as it's owner went fucking mental.

Last Christmas I bought my Nana two new albums. The Black Keys - Brother, and Nutini's second album where he has a hat on. She's a greedy hag for music and wants to know everything about fucking everything that is going on. She reads Q magazine and makes me take her to gigs. Unfortunately, Black Keys weren't in town, but Nutini was. I only bought her the fucking album because it was beaten into my mind from being on REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT in the bookshop I worked in when it was released, and I thought for once I should get her something 'nice'.

I took my Nana to the gig as an act of pure selfless love. I laughed when Mr Nutini came onstage looking more like the above loser stoner than the smooth faced floppy haired youth all the hags of Sunderland had paid their money to see. Imagine your disappointment. For the past year, as your obese husband pumps away on top of you, you wince and turn your face so drops of his rancid sweat miss your eyes. You try and make your body feel something by imagining a beautiful boy.

WELL HE'S GONE, BITCHES. 

Live, Nutini sounds like he's having his balls pushed slowly up his anus with a fountain pen. Lots of screaming. It's quite amazing. Radio friendly shitstorms like 'New Shoes' almost turn into quite frightening, sarcastic attacks on consumerism. Scream it with me: YEAH, I PUT MY NEW SHOES ON, AND SUDDENLY EVERYTHING IS RIGHT!! Black Flag have nothing on him. 

Not really. He pulls out the ballads and everyone sings along and throws hats at him. A woman behind us quite disconcertingly shouts 'I LOVE YOU POWLO' in a serial killer monotone, before, after, and during every song. Middle aged women actually headbang to his ballads while weeping. So far so awful. But what changed my mind about this poor bastard was his completely unaffected spazzing out, screaming, and being a little more dirty than his audience actually want. His raunchier stuff goes down like a shit sandwich. People sit down and look scared. I hope those songs were new and Nutini becomes some kind of scuzzy garage icon. His performance and songs were practically rock n roll in a time when even the rock n rollers are standing still and shoegazing. I will always have a soft spot for sweaty frontmen who don't make prolonged yearning faces or choreographed arm movements. The drunker you look the better. Nutini looks pretty drunk. He's clearly a filthy little bastard. 

However just because he wanked his mic stand a bit doesn't mean I like the doyle. I actually laughed all the way through his rubbish Marley-esque reggae number - his accent on that is so racist. Check it out. What a dick.

I GIVE PAOLO NUTINI'S GUT 8/10. 

His gut and general aging might mean he sheds his boyband image - if he ever starts writing about anything other than 'love' he could be a serious contributor to music. But seeing as he's a lardy stoner, the songs about laying down, smoking 'freaky cigarettes', and your shoes making you happy will probably continue. However, it is the shining symbolic promise that this boy could become a man. Like tits on a girl. Budding, blossoming and beautiful. Long may it grow.

JURY SERVICE

I'm not really allowed to talk about it. But I'm on my third week. I don't like it anymore. I've run out of sexual fantasies to have about the barristers, I've filled my paper 'for taking notes on the case' with caricatures of the judge, I've closely studied every loose horsehair and every nuance of the cloaks- they are, admittedly, impressive outfits. Tomorrow should be my last day. Yesterday I drew myself as an owl, about to eat a small pink barrister mouse, such is my dissatisfaction.

It is an interesting glimpse into our weird be-wigged law courts, and you might get an interesting, none-traumatic case. You might feel a warm glow because you're performing your civil duty. You might also meet some nice people on your jury and have some 'craic'. However the coffee is rubbish and there is every chance you will shuffle to your bus weeping every evening. Also, no, you don't get paid.

Interesting but traumatic, stressful, and a massive pain in the arse, JURY SERVICE gets 4/10.

JOHN DWYER

I am reviewing this man based on my experience of him. Which is that my band played with his band last weekend at The Cluny in Newcastle, and he touched my arm and gave me a cuddle. He's a nice man!

You may recognise him from this beautiful photo I took as the genius behind Thee Oh Sees and Coachwhips. I will openly admit I initially hated the poppy 'lalala' elements of The Oh Sees, but you can't blame me; you see it was a big departure from his previous delinquent, 100mph garage noise, which I loved, namely 'DID YOU CUM?' by Coachwhips. But they're a grower, not a shower. I now bum them with every inch of my groin, even their lame acoustic stuff. In fact 'Island Raiders' is so beautiful I sometimes get my dog and put my face in his fur to sniff his horrible dog smell so I don't cry. He's done loads more stuff. CHECK IT OUT.

Anyway John Dwyer spits a lot when he plays, has loads of cool guitars and a metric spunkload of charisma. THE LADIES WANNA BE HIM, THE DUDES WANNA DO HIM. The live set gave everyone a nipple-on; there's big wig-outs and speed ups and nothing sounds the same as it does on record. I don't want to be naive enough to suggest that 'EVERY SHOW IS UNIQUE!!', but it did feel a bit like that. We felt special. He dedicated a song to 'an orange girl' he fell in love with, making a sly dig at the gaggle of Geordie Shore style morons that had gathered around the venue earlier in the day, sitting on a grassy knoll at a music festival, paying no attention to any music.

He had no problems with signing the vinyls I passed him and even drew some cool glasses on on a record I had with me that has nothing to do with him. With a gold marker pen. What kind of man carries a golden marker pen around just incase some daft bitch comes over and wants something signing? John Dwyer, that's who.

I really hope this guy keeps churning out two albums a year. He plays the flute you know. The Oh Sees have just brought out Castlemania, which is a great summer garage album I have to say. I wanted it on vinyl, however there was none at the gig, as, it was explained to me, 'all the crazy French bought them'. Come back soon John Dwyer!

TOTAL DUDE. 10/10.

BOUNTY MILKSHAKE

I am clasping it to my bosom because it's my new favourite drink! If I ever have babies I will not breastfeed, I will give them this delicious liquid.

I'm excited because I don't really like adult drinks. I always burn my mouth on tea and coffee. I had a recent addiction to Sunny D. Red wine is my worst enemy. Capri-sun is ideal on-the go hit of juice and  results in tiny, foldable litter for if you have tight clothes on.

Unlike Frij milkshakes, which I reserve only for my darkest days, Bounty milkshake is quite refreshing. The 'real coconut' is either a brazen untruth or only refers to the coconut milk and not the 'bits'.  There are no floaters in this beauty. Which is good. My mum used to make me share drinks with my little sister because we were poor and sausage roll floaters still haunt my nightmares. It's a medium consistency and won't really quench your thirst if you've been 'jorging' or 'ranning' or 'hoiking' or any other 'sport' or whatever, but it won't make you gurgle when you speak for the next hour either.

I think it's quite bad for you but I don't mind. By the time I've drank enough for it to make a difference, bingo wings will be in fashion.

PARADISE, no? BOUNTY MILKSHAKE. 8/10.