More Chips With Gravy On My Shoulder

Tedxpectant

2009-11-04T01:27:00.000-08:00

Nick travels down to London today to talk about our long-running bid to bring this writer's story into the public eye once more. When you start researching a bloke who lived down the road in sleepy North Lincs, you don't expect the road to lead to the old Etonian brother of a High Court judge in leafy Ladbroke Grove.

Smalltown Hicks

2009-11-02T14:12:00.000-08:00

I'm all for bigging up Bill Hicks. I may have baulked slightly with the Edinburgh Fringe show a couple of years back which amounted to an acerbic masterclass in just learning his goatboyschtick. Which Dennis Leary already had done. But I was gladdened, and indeed, cheered, by news of a nw film about Hicks, American, which interviews more than 30 of Hicks' closest mates and promises a new take on the life of Bill. Except that, on the film's website, they refer constantly to Hicks as Hick's. I give you:

"Recreating Bill Hick’s story has been a journey all of it’s own; traveling all across America to record extensive new interviews, watching hundreds of performances and developing the animation technique over thousands of hours to fully realize the cinematic vision required."

It may just be a lapsed apostrophe, but, quite frankly, it's a scaley pecker of satany substandardry. I hope the film is good, but c'mon guys!

Tommy gone? Oh no he isn't.

2009-04-02T01:41:00.000-07:00

I was listening to Six Music a couple of days back when a bulletin announced that Tommy Scott, the singer from Space, had died. I was mildly upset - even trawled through the CDs to find my copy of Spiders (last played - Britpop) and gave a listen to Neighbourhood, Female Of The Species and You and Me Vs The World. Even reports of death won't make the album good, I'm afraid to say.

The following day, it was announced that this was in fact an erroneous report. The fact I, and the producers of 6Music, and these people all fell for it on March 31 is justified, I feel. You can't April Fool with death, and especially not in March. Nonetheless, I bet Space records were played more than they have been in years!

Listening: Dukes Of Stratosphear; Space

View from old soak's chair of Ted's Return Home filming 21/3

2009-03-24T09:34:00.001-07:00

Old soak number two

2009-03-24T09:29:00.000-07:00

As an extra in me own short film (very Hitchcock), I was somewhat typecast as old soak number two. Not the most illustrious of screen debs, if I make the final cut at all, playing old soak number two (I did try and investigate character's back story, but there wasn't much of one) involved wearing a flat cap, singing "Any Old Iron" and staring at this cut price pot of bitter which, nonetheless, appeared more tasty as the day went on. But wasn't.

Stairlift to heaven

2009-03-24T09:21:00.000-07:00

Filming of Ted's Return Home this weekend was at the palatial St Vincents Roman Catholic Club in Hull. You could film allsorts there - out the back there was a small pond which instantly made me think of Chinatown's "very good for glass" coda. And, behind the bar was this stairlift leading to the private, upstairs quarters of Saint Vees. Part Exorcist, part Blues Brothers. Maybe we'll be back after Ted's Return Home is done.

Ted's Return Home

2009-03-23T16:22:00.000-07:00

Baggy zimmers

2009-03-16T09:20:00.000-07:00

Can anyone else believe it's 20 years since the Stone Roses' debut album? And I haven't even been imbibing peyote.

You have been Watch-ing

2009-03-12T08:48:00.000-07:00

Like most blokes I've talked to, the three hours I spent watching Watchmen were some of the most bum nubing and perplexing I've ever spent in a cinema. Very rare to not engage with a film of this nature, but Billy Crudup's blue doctor with libido and commitment issues was certainly not up there with Hellboy. And Patrick Wilson's sex scene to Halleluliah was a wince and a mince by equal measure. And I still can't make sense of Nixon's prosthetic nose either - what was that saying, or was it just bad schnozz?

Ted's Return Home: The soundtrack

2009-03-12T08:20:00.000-07:00

Have now taken delivery of the sublime, Columbo meets sleazy dulcimer soundtrack for our short film. Suddenly seems more tangible somehow. Filming takes place final two weekends in March, and looks like I'm gonna play a boozy extra. Sure Ted'd approve! Spotlight info for the two actors is here, and here and I'm delighted to see that one has starred in Alan Clarke's The Firm, whilst the other has a role in tonight's Red Riding, in a blink and you'll miss it role as a copper.

Commissioned!

2009-02-21T00:19:00.000-08:00

Mine and Nick's shortfilm, soon to be brought to life by the lovely peeps at Singlespan along the Humber Foreshore has won a special commission award from Humber Mouth arts festival, Hull's fringe (which is long and jagged). Means we can pay the actors and hopefully have enough left for crisps. But, yay!

Daniels and McGee. Wrong, wrong, wrong

2009-02-21T00:16:00.000-08:00

Sorry to break a two-week absence with a decrepid magician man in his keks - but it seemed fitting, somehow.

John Martyn - May You Never

2009-01-29T06:50:00.001-08:00

John Martyn - May You Never (RIP)

2009-01-29T06:45:00.001-08:00

I for one will be cranking out Solid Air tonight. Good obituary here. There's something beautiful about Martyn's voice, guitar playing and his bohemian troubadouring. Ever since I first heard Stormbringer and Over The Hill 'I'm going away to leave you, I'm gonna leave you in disgrace, got nothing in my favour, wind in my face...". Fellow blogger Landcroft House puts it like this...

Meeting John Martyn - never mind going to his local pub with him, then retiring to his house for rum and orange juice - was one of the great pleasures - honours even - of my life. John was a heroic person in every sense, not all of them good. He drank and drugged and fought and swore to the limits of anyone's capabilities, but, Jesus Christ, he could really play. And really sing. And really write. He was as alive as it's possible to be when the weight of illness and the discomfort is upon you. He didn't slow up - he still, as I said in WORD's cover feature - stared people out in the pub, and he could still roar with anger when needs be. But he was excellent, hilarious company ...

Diversionary Activities: 2

2009-01-27T13:56:00.001-08:00

Diversionary Activities: 1

2009-01-27T12:48:00.000-08:00

Only in Grimsby...17

2009-01-23T05:04:00.000-08:00

While on a training course in Grimsby's slightly notorious Nunsthorpe estate, I was delighted to see that some families really do stick together. Hanging out the passenger window of a moving car, I see a 20-something tracksuit clad deviant, on a bike, getting a "lift". The driver, it would appear, is his dad, moving slowly while his lad hangs on for dearlife. And in the passenger seat? A woman in her 80s. Like I said - takes hanging out with the family to a whole new level.

Great Grimsbio

2009-01-20T13:48:00.000-08:00

Allow me to indulge you with some Lithuanian. This is the opening paragraph of a story about a missing teenager from round our way

Paauglė pabėgo su penkiasdešimtmečiu15min, Lithuania - 17 Jan 2009 paliko namus trečiadienį ir nuo to laiko negrįžo. Liudininkai ją pastebėjo su vidutinio amžiaus vyru Grimsbio traukinių stotyje,

I quite like the sound of Grimsbio. Makes the place sound a bit more alluring, dontcha think? Maybe it could form part of the area's 'rebranding exercise?' Not sure if it works for Goolio, though.

Cheney Reaction

2009-01-20T13:42:00.000-08:00

Republicans, eh? Always trying to hog the glory by injuring themselves on inauguration day.

Recession rock

2009-01-17T03:58:00.000-08:00

Anyone else started listening to sledgehammer post punk and 80s drums as a soundtrack to increasingly weird recessiony times? Or is it just me? It all feels so early 80s at the moment, so my tunes appear to be doing the same. Not that I really need an excuse to play Orange Juice, The Smiths, Vic Godard, Echo and The Bunnymen and Felt, of course. Vic Godard, of course, knew there was no future in rock n' roll by becoming a postie. He must be nearing retirement now, if his role hasn't been downsized or his hours reduced.

I think, therefore I Ram

2009-01-17T03:52:00.000-08:00

Two films into the new year, not counting Persepolis on DVD, with Mickey Rourke's superb performance as Randy The Ram in The Wrestler. Watched in the far better than it sounds surrounds of Scunthorpe Vue, The Wrestler is an amazing film, turning the camera on the seedy malls, strip joints and shopping marts of everytown America. With barb wire, staple guns, tattoos, 80s rock from the Crue and the Lep, a nasty hand slicing episode on the deli counter, trailer park trash and wrestlers with names like the Ayatollah. It's a wonderful, blody, comedic masterpiece.

From wiretaps to corner boyz

2009-01-16T04:30:00.000-08:00

I'm a Wire junkie these days. It has ruined television for me. Since the end of the fifth season on FX last year, I've been unable to watch other crime-based dramas cos' nothing else is realistic enough. I've taken to watching Project Catwalk cos it's just so other-end-of-the-scale. Being a junkie. Sometimes pitiful. So I'm delighted that The Corner, David Simon's initial six-part mini series about life on the Baltimore projects is getting an airing. It's not exactly light viewing, and it doesn't quite swing with the same conviction and scat as The Wire, but it's still grimly compelling. And totally bizarre to see the likes of Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters) and Norman Wilson (Reg E Cathey) shaking down as pimps and players. Peters in particular, is a great, grizzled drug dealer, complete with walking stick. And Delaney Williams, who plays sardonic cop Jay, is a good few pounds thinner as Scale Guy. In fact, watching The Wire guys is the only light relief about the show before the show that ruined and saved television at the same time.

Slum as you are

2009-01-14T04:29:00.000-08:00

Went to our first film of the year at Cineworld Hull - not the nicest location with its bleachy smells and wonky projector. But the film Slumdog Millionaire was awesome, bringing back chaotic memories of Mumbai trains and slums, with Bollywood hero Anil Kapoor as a demented Hindu Chris Tarrant. Even the overbearing bhangra soundtrack was useful in drowning out the cinema goers. Not sure if its done anything for my ongoing battle to convince Dee we really should book that city break!

Writers Rooms: January 1980

2009-01-14T04:20:00.001-08:00

You just don't get writers' rooms like this anymore. This picture of our biography subject Mr Lewis comes courtesy of the local paper. Note the ink pots and copy of the latest Len Deighton.
There should be an update on such literary capers soon, thanks for bearing with me!

Happy Oh Nine

2009-01-02T04:11:00.000-08:00

Despite the nasty bankers at halifucks, we managed to have a lovely new year. Let's hope 2009 brings us all some fab times, short movies and decent tunes. On which note, it doesn't look like the credit crunch has affected musicians. Have you seen just how many of them there are in various backing bands? I mean on the hardly new at all even down to the awful theme music TOTP, I counted about 15 on stage with Girls Aloud, while Leona Lewis and Al-X-andra just wanted to outchoir each other. That must have been some green room. Later with Toss Holland wasn't much better. I counted 12 with Duffy before I fell asleep. Mercy? It seems just enough leg room on the tourbus would be enough for these fellows. I predict far more Ting Tings and White Stripes in 09, just to offset such excessiveness.

Happy Christmas y'all

2008-12-24T01:55:00.000-08:00

I'm still in the communications bunker at the council, but I hope all you out there, especially my farflung fans in Pune and deepest Texas.

High Wiccan

2008-12-23T02:14:00.000-08:00

My mum has a couple of friends, lets call them Philip and Fiona, who write a yearly newsletter on Publisher that always has us in stitches for its content. The introduction this year began: "Peter has spent the year learning Arabic and amuses all his friends by breaking into it at regular intervals..."

However, as I read out this year's missive, we found great amusement in their description of adventures at the High Wycombe Philosopher's Association. Only Dee thought it was Wiccan, and went into a long monologue about dancing naked through the forests, burning pigs and worshiping outlandish pagan gods. Would have been wonderful if this misconstruction had happened face-to-face, and that at the end of Dee's eight-minute retelling of the Wicker Man, my mum's friends would reveal, shocked, that they were more interested in Hegel and Kant.

Noggin the Nog - Nogbad the Bad

2008-12-09T07:43:00.001-08:00

Noggin the Nog - Nogbad the Bad

2008-12-09T07:37:00.001-08:00

In memory of the great Oliver Postgate. Pick up his biography, Seeing Things, for kiddy strangeness and curios.

Deciduously arty

2008-11-29T10:03:00.000-08:00

Attempts to be arty in Barton's Baysgarth Park.

A pier through the mist

2008-11-29T09:59:00.000-08:00

Bartistic license

2008-11-29T09:38:00.001-08:00

Off to the shuggy shores of Barton for the inaugural location recce for 'Get Barton', mine and Nick's 15-minute short film being made by the wonderful Singlespan, Dave and Kate's production company. Sadly, a freezing fug had descended over north Lincolnshire, making any location further than five metres away completely pointless. No matter - we managed to get a look at the abandoned tileworks where Ted L envisaged that Jack Carter met his demise - before the gloom, and the urge to take cliched shots of Scunthorpe, took hold. The main shot shows our director delightedly clutching a tile. It was that kind of morning.

It's a mans, mans, Mansfield world

2008-11-23T08:08:00.000-08:00

It was always gonna be the case. He breaks a three week blog holiday with random posts taken at Mansfield bus station. Rosemary Lane is nothing like the name might suggest. Proudly built in, and untouched since, 1977, the year of punk. Key signposting of amenities like shops (Iceland, Dominos) and toilets (several, including one in an ominous looking subway). Waiting for a lift, I ducked into the fabulous Triple Eight bus station cafe, where you can get chocolate, coffee, chow-mein and something alien sounding called a cob. I took a photo of the menu and was asked by the waitress, 'are you a tourist?'. I replied that I'd just got off the Scunthorpe, via Doncaster, bus. 'Ah, Doncaster...' she replied, as if it was a place of impossible wonder. Where the people take pictures of menus.

Newcastle tale

2008-11-07T02:59:00.000-08:00

This is the picture which has kick-started a whole project into life. You'll recognise the backdrop, perhaps even be able to name the film it was in. But do you know the person pictured here, and his story? That's something me and a co-writer will be trying to address through film, a doco and a book proper.

Presidential sweet

2008-11-07T02:31:00.000-08:00

London 0 Hull 4

2008-10-20T02:52:00.001-07:00

In 1986, this album came out, and everybody thought, ooh, those pranksters The Housemartins with their crazy offbeam album title titters. To imagine such a scoreline was as laughable as Paul Heaton's cream cardy. I loved the sentiment (and the jangly guitar pop sugared with some jaunty Marxism) but when I saw my first Tigers game in 2003, at home to Kidderminster, the possibilty of even League One football seemed a long way off. So after wins against the 'ammers, the Spurs, the 'snel and, er, the Fulham, it really is the ideal time to celebrate the city at the end of the line.

An old boiler

2008-10-13T08:02:00.000-07:00

We've been without hot water for a week now due to our snazzyboiler* going on the blink as soon as we dared to think about turning it on. A plumber was duly called last Friday. "S'a problem with the heat exchange", he says, and we'll need a new one. So the boiler makers are informed, as luckily it's just within warranty. An appointment is made for this coming Friday. I tell them that the heat exchange is going to need replacing, just so the engineer can bring a new one on Friday. "We won't do that I'm afraid", says disinterested of Tamworth. "Our engineer will need to do his own tests... if it is the heat exchange has gone it'll take a week to order and then we'll have to book you in for it to be fitted.." "But I'm telling you what's wrong with it." "Are YOU a plumber, sir?". The upshot - no fancy bubbles for this newlywed for the whole of October.

LISTENING: Richard Thompson (his really depressed beardy early stuff - genius), Elbow, Fleet Foxes (when I was readying myself for marriage, their album finally clicked with me - beautiful soundtrack to all these autumnal colours)

READING: The amazing Homicide by Wire creator David Simon. Proper journalism and a happy way to ease the withdrawal symptoms; What Is The What - Dave Eggers; The Black Dahlia - James Ellroy

Spare a thought ...

2008-10-07T03:35:00.000-07:00

... for the poor couples who had to stay at one of Barton's less salubrious establishments on the weekend of our wedding. This is an email from a friend who stayed at the pub (let's call it the George), just in case any of you were thinking it was the official Michelin review lifted straight from t'guidebook.

The "George" was an experience I hope not to be repeating again in this lifetime....it was straight out of a Peter kay sketch. I mean I have stayed in some grotty places in my time - but that takes the biscuit. Including my travels round Africa. On the plus side, the room was large, the breakfast decent and the water was hot. On the minus side, the beds were saggy, I've thrown cleaner carpets in the skip, the bathroom contained a set of SIO (stains of indeterminate origin), and best of all, you could smell the fag smoke from the staff/customers coming up the stairway and under the bedroom door at all times of the day and night. Pete reported the car park was covered in broken glass when he went down (he left early as he was going to the football). Staff Highlights: miserable landlord about to go bankrupt. Toothless chainsmoking wizened old bloke who seemed to do all the cooking and general work. Fat chav single mum fagging it in the back lobby over the kid's buggy - role unknown - maybe some of kind of maitre d'???!! Anyway, it was OK as we were so knackered we just went stright to sleep once we hit the pillow, despite the efforts of Mick's disco.
Here's a tip for you - if it doesn't work out with Danielle you can be sure of pulling a stunna on a Friday night down there! Anyway, it was all hilairious and you would have found it highly amusing...but only because it was only for one night!!

President Boosh

2008-10-06T15:40:00.001-07:00

Over to Sheffield's wonderful City Hall for an evening with the Mighty Boosh. Not the biggest fan of season three, crack fox aside, I have to say that the show, all honey monster decapitation, nanageddon space rock wig outs and the 'Itcher, was excellent. Our house has been a Boosh free zone since the last series ended, so I liked the Mighty Boosh band and thought the material was spangly and not too flabby.

Cut Price?

2008-10-06T15:36:00.000-07:00

Saw a fat woman in departures, coming to the end of a Katie Price novel. It seemed to be a good fit for her features. But when she got to the end, she waltzed over to an airport bin and slung it in. Didn't even leave it for some poor Cuban to read. Either it was a selfless act to stop people from reading such twaddle, or this woman disposes of all the books she's read. All two of them, judging by her disposition, but a thought-provoker, none the less.

Not in Cleethorpes ...

2008-10-03T11:19:00.001-07:00

Honeymoon Reading

2008-10-03T11:16:00.001-07:00

The most amazing day ever

2008-10-03T10:47:00.000-07:00

Forgive me for using the blog for such purposes, but our wedding was so amazing - and the people who were there were what really did it for us! See if you can spot bloggers StoneFee and Dave Windass in the assembled shot! The astute will notice that I've included links to their reportage blogs on the big day here. So overwhelmed by it all still, and always will be, really, truly. Sterling show from our rookie Priest, a great plot arc featuring an ill child, a late arrival by a nonogenarian and a blowout on the A1, a superb organist with comedy beard who wouldn't be out of place on Phoenix Nights, some interesting singing, awesome food, drink and disco - all in all, truly amazing. But it was these guys what done it for me!

Gustav, liebling

2008-08-28T08:33:00.001-07:00

I have become rooted to this website, indicating the current hurricanes affecting Cuba. We're off there in two weeks for the honeymoon, laughing, as always, in the face of natural disasters. We've already chortled as a giant fireball hit Peru shortly after we left, then guffawed at the floods of last summer. Hurricanes - pah - especially with such lovely names as Gustav and Fay.

I'll have the steak, mother's having dementia

2008-08-27T05:05:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Mr Windass for giving me the biggest laugh of the day, this New York Times article about Margaret Thatcher's dementia which means she can no longer distinguish between the wars and heartache she created in the 80s (although distinguishing between proud northern cities was never her strong pint - she tended to view them all the same). It was this line that really floored me though ...

Carol Thatcher, 55, said that it was during a lunch at a London hotel in 2000 when she realized her mother was mentally slipping. They began discussing the Bosnian conflict of the 1990s when, to Carol Thatcher’s dismay, it became clear her mother was confusing that crisis with the Falklands war of the 1980s.

Typical, eh, discussing those Bosnians while waiting for your greek and feta potato skins to arrive, eh? 'This steak's tough, but how are those poor Argentinians doing, I wonder?'

Congratulations, Mr Hayes, happy birthday ... wait, oh dear

2008-08-21T01:13:00.000-07:00

From today's Grimsby Telegraph. The injustice is not necessarily that they got it wrong, but the knowledge that no-one on the GTs subs desk knows their funk and soul. That'd never happen in my day etc etc.

A note to communications officers everywhere ... make sure you know what your city looks like

2008-08-14T06:53:00.000-07:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/west_midlands/7560392.stm

Take A Chance On Me? Not likely

2008-08-14T05:37:00.000-07:00

So the US presidential hopefuls have revealed their top 10 songs of all time. Barack, unsurprisngly, goes for yer classic choices - bit of Marvin and Nina, some Kanye West, classic Sinatra. McCain, on the other hand, likes Abba so much he's picked two - Voulez Vous and Take A Chance On Me. Somehow the idea of this pro-war vet parading round the Oval office to disco and Merle Haggard in between speeches is just too scary to contemplate, even for middle America?

Fish and blips

2008-08-12T02:11:00.001-07:00

Some feat

2008-08-11T14:46:00.000-07:00

My mum has rediscovered her love of festivals in recent years. Doesn't matter where - she's there with her campervan, beanie and box of wine. Cornbury. Rutland. Wallingford. All the greats. Last weekend, she was at Cropredy. My auntie, bless her, knows nothing of such things as festivals. She thought my mum was at Chiropody. Or the colostomy festival. Which given the age and hoary old folkie nature of such things, might well prove to be accurate.
Isaac Hayes tribute: I imagined I was singing Shaft as I did lengths at the local swimming pool. Shaft was surprisingly effective when doing a poor version of the front crawl.
Bands seen at Chiropody: Little Feat, Canned Feat, Veruca Salt, Korn etc

Good morning Baltimore...

2008-08-08T02:27:00.000-07:00

I wouldn't normally recommend watching cracker trash musical remakes featuring John Travolta in a dress. But as Dee delighted her way through Hairspray last night, I delighted in the fact that the 60s wholesome Baltimore terraces where fat girls dance in sequins would soon enough be populated by the likes of the Wire's Avon Barksdale, Omar Little and Prop Joe. It added a certain amount of depth to John Traversty's raunchy dancing with Chris Walken, knowing that caps would almost certainly have been busted in all of their ass's once the Barksdale boys moved in.

Fantastic marrahs

2008-08-04T01:34:00.000-07:00

Plucked from the allotment just yesterday.

The happy couple

2008-07-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

Betraying no hint of wedding nerves balanced on the edge of a giant hole near Whitby, North Yorkshire (the hole of Horcum, hole fans)

What a cropper

2008-07-22T09:50:00.000-07:00

Hello, Hazaribag, Jharkhand

2008-07-07T06:56:00.000-07:00

My LiveFeed in the right hand column of this blog reveals who in blue blazes would want to read this nonsense. Quite a few from overseas, it seems. Today, amid the customary Grimsbys and Barnsleys, I have a blog friend in Hazaribag, Jharkhand. Maybe I should investigate twinning myself with Hazaribag, wherever it is.

PS: Hazaribag Note - it's a remote part of India, apparently. Turn left at Bihar. But before Mahabalipuram.

Pre-wedding nerves? The ideal solution

2008-07-07T06:45:00.000-07:00

The eve of a wedding, as many of my 'regulars' will know, is a time for much last minute nerve-jangling and trying-to-hold-it-togethering. Not for me and Dee, though. Today, we are both invited to, through work,

"I would like to invite you to the next Multi-Agency Hate Crime Sub-Group. This is to highlight the good practice and initatiatives that we are progressing. As this is a partnership it would be appropriate for you both to attend."

Partnerships are one thing. I mean we're getting married fer crissakes. But not sure if a hate crimes partnership, even one chaired by Neil from the Young Ones, is quite how I want to be spending my last hours of bachelordom.

New career

2008-06-26T08:54:00.000-07:00

I just phoned up the gifts department at John Lewis in Sheffield about our wedding list. The casual, none-more Sheffield bloke at the other end told me just to "come into the store and do the biz, young man." Five minutes later, my mobile rings - here's the conversation.
JLB: "Is that Danielle?"
L: "No, it's Laurie."
JLB. "Alright Loz (a bit informal, but let it ride). It's about your wedding list. Do you want to come in the store?"
L: "I just spoke to you and sorted it out."
JLB: "Oh yeah, so you did. At least you're on the ball - unlike me."
L: "Why, are you getting married too?"
JLB: "Nah, no chance. I've been divorced twice - I'd rather hang myself."
L: "Do you think you should be working in a wedding gifts department.
JLB: "Spose not, I guess I should work on me sales pitch. Thanks."

Happy happy joy joy

2008-06-23T04:16:00.000-07:00

Reading Mark Oliver Everett's Things The Grandchildren Should Know. A macabre recollection of the Eels frontman's life, the plot arc goes something like - meet person, person does lovely thing involves cats or jokes or bizarre dress, person dies, E writes song, meets people, people die in freak lawnmower/ski/cat/binocular accident. Wonderful, feel-good stuff, obviously. The maudlin never scanned so good.

Big-handed dwarf or kneeling weirdo?

2008-06-19T08:32:00.000-07:00

Monarco Musing

2008-06-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

Could you get more quintessentially English seaside resort? Although full marks to Monarco, this billboard could almost carry itself off as northern soul poster. But check the price of that Pensioners' Special!!

Father Abram

2008-06-13T06:41:00.000-07:00

Went to the delightful Cleethorpes to interview jazz dude Abram Wilson this week. This cat has played with Dr John and Soweto Kinch, but I challenge the most diligent shorthand perfectionist to try and keep up with his 180mph New Orleans scat. And what is the shortform for "skiddly-nee-ba-be-bop"? A mess, is what.

Kel Surprise (to be delivered in French accent)

2008-06-13T06:11:00.001-07:00

So Kelvin McKenzie is hotly tipped to join the by-election caused by David Davis' Magna Carta (personally I thought they did a decent curry) protests. I like Kelvin - expecially his TV work bringing such inspirational characters as Newsey Bunny to the information gathering super highway (admittedly more of a B-road back in them Cable days). But, interviewed by Peter Levy for BBC's Look North this lunchtime he urged: "the people of Hull to get out and vote in Haltemprice and Howden". Which of course they can't, seeing as they have three MPs of their own and Howden is actually 30 miles away.

Secondly, supermac said he didn't know where Howden actually was and had never been there. Why Kelvin, it's only the headquarters of the Press Association, surely one of your biggest sources of news during your days as a darling at Wapping Wharf?

Happy birthday, purple fella

2008-06-10T04:21:00.000-07:00

He's been a symbol, a slave, Victor, a basketball whizz, purple trouseured funk god, actor, musician and Mail-on-Sunday fan. But for today, at least, Prince Rodgers Nelson is an astonishing 50. Looking good on it, as well, Princey-baby. Better than he did in '79, arguably.

Mood: Raspberry Beret

Funk: Housequake

Film: A toss-up between Under The Cherry Moon and Batman

Juke Box Ju-Ju

2008-06-07T03:11:00.000-07:00

Below are three videos, feel free to rate your favourites while I wait for the rain to stop.

Oh, Jeremy ...

2008-06-07T03:09:00.001-07:00

Anyone spot a squelcy northern nautical theme (back to proper words and sentences next...)?

Laura Marling - Cross Your Fingers/ Crawled Out Of The Sea

2008-06-07T03:08:00.001-07:00

Part two of my Saturday music trilogy, waiting at the computer by my window waiting for the rain to end

Mystery Jets - Two Doors Down

2008-06-07T03:04:00.001-07:00

Wonderful extra marks for the eightiestasticness. Beats the Freshley Squeezed presenters into an insipid cocked hat.

Wedding wind-up/blues

2008-06-03T07:18:00.000-07:00

So far, the wedding plans have gone splendidly, only for two rather major hurdles to crop up over the weekend. For a start, our jeweller/rock n' roller Thai Paul announces that his volatile 50s wok n' wollas have split up, at the exact same venue where the Cyclones played their last gig almost two years previously. Spooky, huh? Lessons for all weddingy couples: don't trust yer jeweller with yer rock n' roll. Secondly, there's the small matter of our wedding reception being taken to the High Court by the Inland Revenue! Suggestions/ideas on a blogcard, please!

Strim when you're winning

2008-06-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

As far as I know there isn't a verse in T-Rex's "Whatever Happened To The Teenage Dream" that says 'bought a strimmer from B and Q, so I could sort out my suicidal verges'. There should be. It feels awfully grown up to be spending cash on such things, with the only rock n' roll element being my schoolboy like refusal to read the instructions. Took the new toy down the allotment on Sunday, where, by the time we'd figured out how to use it, it ran out of battery. Undeterred, we charged the mutha-sucka and returned yesterday, only for the spool to run out just seconds after making some paltry headway. Spools out for summer. I may put a picture of Thatcher's head on the base to motivate future grassy encounters.

In positive plot news, the crowd of people who normally stand at the end of our plot pointing and laughing has diminished.

Listening: Laura Marling, Hawkwind, Marlena Shaw

Watching: The Wire (recording it off the telly means one episode a week, which means the pleasure ain't gonna stop til at least October! Hurrah!)

Barton Radar: Barton Beer Festival has just been and gone, but Barton Bike Night is only three weeks away!

C'mon you City

2008-05-23T06:33:00.000-07:00

First it was my adopted home. And then I could only see it (and occasionally shout at it) from across the river. Funnily enough I've been to both Bristol and Hull this year, but just cos the southerners have got funky-coloured houses and trip hop don't make them my favourites. I'll be cheering them on at Wemberley tomorrow as they aim for the splendours of the Prem after 104 years aiming for the prize. And then doing the whole thing again on Sunday watching the Donny game with my future father-in-law. I'm hoping that after such a hardcore footie weekend, Dee'll finally start liking the game. If you want a first person view on City v City, Mr W is going and he'll post about it, I should think.

A guy like you

2008-05-22T03:44:00.000-07:00

Best documentary in ages, apart from the Artful Codgers, was the wonderful Home Again about former Orange Juice troubadour Edwyn Collins and his battle to regain his faculties after suffering two strokes, a brain haemmorage and contracting MRSA in 2005. The programme showed Edwyn's battle to regain speech and movement, to the point where he was able to play his first show - faltering at first, then triumphant. It was heartbreaking and hopeful in equal measure, showing the power of love and belief. Great as well that such a literate and lucid guy is able to perform in front of an audience again. Watch it!

Virtually Yours

2008-05-15T07:35:00.001-07:00

The modern newsroom has had to re-invent itself in recent years - into a multi-media hub, a podcasting delight, a video-jizz paradise. Amid all the blogs and Diggs and Delicious's comes the Grimsby Telegraph's concession to modern news gathering. Kate Parker is their new 'virtual reporter' or 'newsbot' as she's known, where she reads the news in a voice not dissimilar to Simple Text, that silly office programme that made us all laugh for about seven minutes in 1995/6. She didn't actually read the news, as a technical fault meant she just blathered on about the weather for several hours. Is it just me, or is this newsbot more like a badly-animated Holly from Red Dwarf?

Relaxation

2008-05-12T01:23:00.000-07:00

After a hard day picking out flowers for our wedding, I like nothing more than a relaxing drink in Schnapps Bar followed by some tasty fish n' chips.

Lozandee - Sky's The Limit

2008-05-12T00:47:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm A-Mazed

2008-05-12T00:43:00.000-07:00

Alkbrough, five miles from Scunny town, couldn't be more removed. This is where the Humber merges into the Trent and Ouse, although, unlike the Ganges, there ain't an annual pilgrimage where its rivers meet. Instead, there's an 11th century turf maze. And after a gander round that, the pilgrims retire to the Alkbrough Constitutional Club for some pilgrimesque constitutionals.

BOC Gases

2008-05-12T00:42:00.001-07:00

From Scun to Stallone

2008-05-12T00:32:00.000-07:00

Jack's Return Home, the book that became Get Carter (a superb Britflick starring Michael Caine and John Osborne) was set not in Newcastle, but in Scunthorpe. The film-makers changed it because, I guess, Scunny was just too sleazy and obscure. The gripping climax at the end of GC was also originally set at the mudflats close to the Humber Bridge in Barton, and Ted Lewis, the writer, lived there when he wasn't penning episodes of Z-Cars. If you pick up a copy of Jack's Return Home, you can see that Scunny hasn't changed much since 1970. Rows of terrace streets still improbably close to the town centre. The smell of steel. I took some pictures.
The Mancunian-born writer Ted Lewis, who lived in nearby Barton-upon-Humber, featured the town in some of his novels about low-life 1960s gangster Jack Carter. The most famous of these books, Jack's Return Home saw the main character return from London to his home-town of Scunthorpe to avenge his brother's death. The story itself was based on the background to the real-life murder of Newcastle businessman Angus Sibbet in 1967, in what was known as the Fruit Machine Murder.
The film rights to this book where purchased by MGM who ironically transferred the setting from Scunthorpe to Newcastle-upon-Tyne and released the film in 1971 as the cult British crime thriller Get Carter, starring Michael Caine in the lead role. However none of the production was shot in the area, it being filmed entirely on location on Tyneside.

Sir Alan Cumming

2008-05-11T02:26:00.000-07:00

Laugh of the day so far from Alan Cumming in the Observer Magazine's This Much I Know column...

"There used to be a man's name above my pubes. It was tattoed there for six months before I had it removed. It was an intense relationship. He still has his. But instead of saying 'Alan' it now says 'Balance'. So we might tend to think he's not the most balanced person."

On the Fidel

2008-05-06T06:38:00.000-07:00

For the first time in ages, we walked into a travel agent with a bally good reason - to book our honeymoon. In recent years, I've been asked to leave when entering such premises - quite clearly not the sort of person who books a two-week all inclusive break or a pleasure cruise. But this time it's different - me and the then-wife will be off to Cuba - me to indulge my love of salsa, Dee her love of cigars. Hurrah!

New Sunday sport

2008-05-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

I admit, the banks of north Lincolnshire aren't chockful of opportunity on a Bank Holiday Sunday. Although saying that, me and Dee had some enormous fun exploring the old quarries and tileyards being lost to the drift that are dotted along the Humber, which form a suitably knarly frontdrop (opposite of backdrop) for the majestical bridge. But surely, the number one new sport round these parts is Sunday allotment terrorism. We had only planted four seed potatoes when we noticed there was a crowd of yokels at the end of our plot, pointing and laughing. Upon being confronted by me, they said, collectively like, "you've got your work cut out there". We may start charging for the interactive thrill of watching us dig our own hole. Allotment appetite sated, the people got into their people carrier and sped off, me, trowell in hand, in pursuit.

Listening: Ethiopiques

Watching: The genius that is season four of The Wire

Weddingcountdown: 16 weeks

Vegwatch: Alkaliney, some weed called the mare's tail, nothing of substance

Natty wedd

2008-05-02T04:20:00.000-07:00

A fabulous time was had by all at Ben and Nicola's wedding down in Hampshire - amid the usual tales of lacerated hands, women shamelessly flaunting judo medals (is it form to bring your medals to someone else's bash, I wouldn't take mine to me own), burnt out cars, stolen clubs, stolen wedding trousers, police reports and the like. The bride and groom walked out to the theme from Star Wars played by a string quartet and the canapes were astonishing, darling. As for my speech, it was the toughest gig since the Cyclones east coast carvery tour. But there were laughs. Those coming to our own bash in the summer will be able to gage just how well I did as Ben is doing the reverse honour of being my bezzzzer.

Listening: Martha Winwright, Rachel Unthank, The Gutter Twins

Mew Tube

2008-05-01T00:47:00.000-07:00

Love and marriage

2008-04-24T04:57:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the zone. Have no excuses. Well I've been spending my blogging time penning a best man speech for a wedding in Hampshire this weekend. And also spending time firing guns and ping pong balls on stag fun in Chichester, west Sussex. When I've not been doing that I've been listening to the wonderful new albums by Martha Wainwright and Joan As Police Woman. But normal service will be resumed very shortly, if only to bump that awful pic of Peter Perrett down the pecking order.

Reunion with rehab?

2008-04-02T02:51:00.000-07:00

Watched the all-new, none-less pretentious Later With Jools Holland last night. The big question may have been, ooh, Estelle or Adele (and there was only one winner - Estelle had all the funk and didn't try and just present a masterclass in stretching a bad melody/concept over four minutes), but all me and Dee could think was WHAT THE BLUE BLAZES HAS HAPPENED TO THE SINGER FROM THE ONLY ONES??? (third left in this picture). He heliumed his way through Another Girl, Another Planet looking like a skeleton in shades. I seriously thought he'd buckle under the weight of his guitar. I love the Only Ones, but I'm not sure going on tour is the best thing for Peter Perrett.

Tourism? It's a dump

2008-04-01T03:07:00.000-07:00

Spotted this sign on my travels around Grimsby. The idea of a tourist bureau staff, huddled behind this corrugated shutter, never seeing daylight, sharing a site with the council's municipal waste team, struck an Orwellian chord.

Raef (Not) Fines

2008-03-27T03:11:00.000-07:00

Favourite moment from last night's Apprentice, was when appalling laquered dark-eyed Raef hit back at the really quite okay Alex as he defended his miserable ability to not know the price of fish.

"This is not the time for hyperbole, Alex" the future Tory MP decried. Seconds earlier he had extolled his hard work not knowing the difference between sharks and hamsters by saying "I had blood, literally, coming from my hands." Hyperbole for some then, it seems.

The one thing that will put an end to evicted Nicolas's appalling smugness was the fact that he will be bald by the time he's 28 and look rather like a worse Brian Eno.

Listening: Radio Four at 40

Reading: Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut (again); Confederacy Of Dunces (again) Flat Earth News

Brief candles Zombies

2008-03-24T14:50:00.001-07:00

Some footage of the Zombies reunion two weeks ago. Shaky cameras do not diminish how lovely this gig was, 40 years since they last played together - but coulda been yesterday. Big plaudits to the drummer and bassist, who haven't played professionally, let alone to 20,000 folks since '67.

Bad puns

2008-03-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

I've been forking about down the allotment for a few weeks now. Trevor, the previous occupant who drives/pedals one of those key-operated bikes, had planted rows of lavender which we have had to uproot painstakingly and painfully, before 'turning' the ground over and then giving the soil some much needed nutrition. All this life-affirming pursuit reminds me how many bad puns come from allotments. My love of a gardening cliche ' faster than shit off shovel' 'where there's muck, there's grass' 'it's a forking disgrace' etc etc is growing far faster than any plant-life as yet. Next week we put down some perenials, whatever that means. But I'm still legit, still rock n' roll. I was listening to Dead Kennedy's while a-chittling.
Reading: No Country For Old Men (brilliant, somebody should make a film of it. I reckon that Javier bloke...oh right); Aberyswith Mon Amour - Malcolm Pryce; Flat Earth News - Nick Davies
Watching: The Sopranos (note - not good to introduce fiancee to this in final season. Christopher has just died and she cares not.)
Saving hard for: The Wire Season Four (no drama is better than this. Nothing. Not even Dexter.)
Listening: Drill n' bass, dubstep, new Supergrass, old Nick Lowe

Cops and downs

2008-03-22T05:08:00.000-07:00

Me and Dee have been watching Dexter, a cop show TURRRRRNED ON ITS HEAD!!! (as the advert would probably go). Dee loves it. Me, I'm grimacing behind a cushion at all the bloody boney bits. For those not in the know, it's about Dexter, a forensics expert who is also a serial killer. But it's okay because he only kills serial killers, making him some sort of twisted hero. Like Jeffrey Dahmer arm-wrestling Ed Gein for light entertainment (and how long before that show's on BBCThree?). One can only wonder at the moral conflict that Dexter (not helped by the fact that he looks like Ben Folds) must feel. Whatever next for the cop, superhero show? Bestial cops? Sadists on spacehoppers?

The Last Shadow Puppets

2008-03-19T13:38:00.001-07:00

My haven't you grown, young Alex. One minute ago you was all shy back stage at Silhouette (now an a=over 25s nightclub, sadly) - now you're coming over all Nikita in this amazing new song

What no Gene?

2008-03-12T01:28:00.000-07:00

Appropriated from another blog, but this story about a foppish political speechwriter inserting Shed Seven song titles into a key speech, unbeknownst to his boss, still makes me chuckle. The culprit should be easy to spot - he'll be the one with the snakey hips and the eyes on the ground, shaking his maracas then.

That means allot

2008-03-10T05:23:00.000-07:00

Me and Dee are now the proud leaseholders of an allotment. Free to rent for the first year, it'll cost us the positively feudal price of £8 a year from then on. Obviously, 17th century prices bring out some very stange smallholding relics. Our shed neighbour, Trevor, "drives/pedals" a key-operated bike. Almost a two-wheel shopper acting as a smokescreen for laziness. It's gonna be some time until we can actually sow anything and live out our communal, misguided dream. We've got rows of lavender to dispose of, and some abandoned lino. I'm covered in Richey Edwards esque scratches after coming off worst in a lavender bagging exercise. But that'd definitely one of the most varied weekends I've had for a while. Getting dewy-eyed at The Zoms on Friday, admiring Red Ken's swanky new council offices on Saturday and a forking liability in Lincolnshire come Sunday.

L.O.Z.G.L.A

2008-03-08T15:42:00.000-08:00

A day of heightened extremes down in the Cap, with a look at the Greater London Authority's half-egg shaped nonsense offices on the proper south bank, not the Barton-on-Humber one. The council chamber, with its funky laptops, and views across the Thames, resembling a Jedi Council, is nothing like policy and scrutiny down Cleethorpes on a Thursday.

Zombie jamboree

2008-03-08T15:36:00.000-08:00

Down to the marvellous Shepherd's Bush Empire, hundreds of feet high in the old cheap penny seats, to see the Zombies perform one of the finest albums of all time, Odessey and Oracle. I veered between pensive and ecstatic during the show, seeing as two of the four original band haven't played the material on stage for 40 years or more, if at all. It was all the more endearing for its chaos - some fluffed lines and dropped drumsticks, but all the better for the sheer euphoria of hearing such a blissful set of songs faithfully recreated. And Chris White, the bassist, had the kind of giddy hysteria of a man who couldn't believe his luck.

Earthquack

2008-02-27T00:27:00.000-08:00

Lincolnshire is at the epicentre of something for the first time since Magna Carta, with a 5.2richter scale blast at about 1.15am this morning. It dislodged something in my blog psyche, cos I've been prompted to post for the first time in ages. Here, 13.5 miles from the epicentre, there's talk about landslides and people thinking it 'were Cossards sugar factory gern up'. Spare a thought for the Market Rasen Mail. Biggest story in ages but they go to press on a Tuesday evening. So while the BBC camps on its doorstep, it runs with a story about a scout pack that faces closure. Them's the local newspapee breaks.

Lost in translation

2008-02-13T13:51:00.000-08:00

I'm a glutton for punishment, me. Only days after getting to grip with the Hull accent, all terbleureurnes and rerds (toblerones and roads) after some four years of trying, I take a job in Grimbo. Totally different accent proposition. Over the last few days, I've overhead at least two people say "it's wam, ennit?" - translation: the temperature is unseasonably high for this time of year, don't you feel my good gentleman? But this phone conversation I had today is my favourite yet. It was a call to our children's services team to talk about Thomas Turgoose, the 15-year-old star of This Is England. Young Tommy is a pupil at Winteringham school in town.

Me: Have you put out a press release about Tommy Turgoose at the Baftas?

Grimbonian: Is that a tournament?

Me: No, it's the British Academy Film And Television Awards, held in London.

Grimbonian: I know what it is, but is it a tournament?

Me: A tournament?

Grimbonian: A tournament, that film with James McAvoy in it. That were filmed in Grimsby.

Loz has been watching: The execrebable Lily Allen And Friends (BBC3) - like a worse Girlie Show, bad interviewing, intolerable crowd (freaks talking about wet dreams and shagging while Lily eggs them on. It's hardly LDN now is it?), and a clearly petrified David Mitchell in the ghastly headlights. It was like 18 Stone Of Idiot, with some Rada lass instead of Vegas.

Loz az Laz: Part 328b

2008-02-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

Another Larry David moment over the weekend (btw, has anyone noticed that Curb Six isn't quite as on the money? Have I changed or has Larry?) I went out the side door and saw the cat, greeting her with my typical "alright weirdo?" question. Turns out my next door neighbour's mum was taking the trash out at the same time. And heard me. Cue many minutes stood there making small talk, cos there's an obligatory five-minute small talk exchange to be done just to convince them that they aren't the subject of your weirdo retort. At least I think there is. It may have been a compliment.

In law unto themselves

2008-02-11T13:01:00.000-08:00

Had the first meeting of my mum and Dee's mum over the weekend. Had worked myself up into a semi-funk wondering what the hell they'd have in common. But, within minutes, they were talking about non-stick frying pans and the best way to make a cheese sauce. Mums, eh?

From the pen of the Leven

2008-02-11T12:53:00.000-08:00

Ain't it great to go to a gig by someone hithero unknown, to be expecting nowt, and to be rewarded with a dextrous evening of wine-soaked raconteuring and beautiful Celtic balladry and punk-inspired dissonace? That's what happened with us and Jackie Leven, our first gig at Ropery Hall in Barton. Great little venue, tucked at the end of the quarter-mile long Ropery. The portents were not good for Jackie. He shuffled in with a bottle of wine and a placcy bag, looking like he'd been on the wrong side of too many Ginsters. The side-boarded compere announced him while he was trying to squeeze himself through the audience. And then he plugged his guitar in the wrong way. Dee gave me one of her "this is going to be like that awful theremin woman you dragged me to. Again, Laurie, again!" type-looks. But then he transpired to be brilliant. All late-night tales and candid observations about Bethesda, Larry Olivier, Colombo and Johnny Cash. Check him out, I say.

Pictures of my cat on my blog

2008-02-07T12:46:00.000-08:00

I don't want to turn this blog into "funny pictures what my cat done today" - but there ain't much else going on. We've built some new shelves. The cat thought it was a series of elaborate cat parking bays. It wasn't. So we filled them with everything we possess.