Jury's out

....so Phil Spector then. Seems the jury can't decide, even though all the evidence supposedly points at the diminutive, wig-wearing freakazoid. One more fact for the prosecution - he has got previous. He smothered The Long And Winding Road with a string orchestra, y'know.

Hawleyisms

Gesturing to the crowd in the stalls at Bradford St George's Hall last night, Richard Hawley intones: "I've got some news for you three. It's 100 years to the day since the roof last caved in there. Anyway. Enjoy." Sets the tone for a night that includes the phrases "soft as a bag of tits", "Henderson's Relish", "pea and pies night" and a joke about Shirley Bassey pissing in a workingman's club sink. In between the clubland banter, Hawley plays the most elegaic, bruised and battered vintage rock n' roll, dressed in a splendid grey suit and modelling a range of fab cherry red Gibsons. Mouth of a docker, the voice of the Big O, Lee Hazlewood and Elvis singing about Sheffield landmarks. Splendid, quite frankly.

Paddington wear

I may be a bit late to this, but looks like being in the Paddingtons can have rewards other than hanging out in Queens all day. Young Joshh's girlfriend has been getting a fair bit of exposure in the quality Sunday's today, and according to the Telegraph, is living with the studious Pad in his west Hull, ahem, pad. I haven't seen her about, which probably means she hasn't been drinking in the Hole In The Wall or Sportsman. But her presence has surely notched Hull's glam factor up by at least 50 per cent. Jayz, she'd even make a walk down Spring Bank appealing.

And finally

It's taken 10 months, four failed house sales, one police helicopter, several tip trips, hundreds of shouty conversations with smooth-talking, potty-mouthed estate agents and jack-shit solicitors, but Dee's house has finally sold. Meaning we can move into this little beauty on the left next week. I'll miss my new storage buddies, comparing flood damage, moustaches and waterproofs, but think we're ready to start this incredibly exciting new chapter in our lives.

Automons, fatboys and operettas

Went to see amiable, slacker rom-com by numbers Run, Fatboy, Run (rom-combers?) at the Doncaster multiplex. Seems the cinema, a charming 80s monstrosity, has been taken over by Stasi Entertainments. Making a phone call in the foyer before the film began, we were asked: "Are you here to see a film". "No, fool, I choose this slate grey bad attitude complex next to a Wimpy to make my calls". Then, the same jobsworth is charged with taking our tickets tells us we are missing one of our stubs. We tell him we don't have it, have never had it, but, hey, here's a receipt. He then, with cold dead eyes, says "I'm not saying what you do or don't have, just what you SHOULD have". And left us in the queue for about 10 minutes while ushering others through. Half expected him to bang a stick across the aisles while the closing credits rolled as well.

Positively Fab Street

Bit late in the day to be bleating on about this ... but Bob Dylan's 9pm radio show on 6Music is amazing. Drawling like a piratical renegade jock, he fuses beat poetry with an impeccable swing and some astonishing tunes. We may never unpack the telly from storage with radio this good.

Blunt.

Aaah, 11million album selling posho James Blaaahnt has called his new album All The Lost Souls, which I'm sure comments on the number of homeless people living on the streets outside his mansion in Henley or wherever. But, redeemingly, I thought, he has cleverly photoshopped pictures of the homeless on his album cover to make a giant Blunt face. A gesture of solidarity, we are all one, I'm just the vehicle for all your pain etc. But on closer inspection, tragically, all the images turn out to be Blunt himself. How appalling self-important. What a Blunt.

Cattabis

While I was having needles stuck into my back, I found out my cat was stressed. She's in the cattery and appears to be missing the delights of Club Loz, so she has been put on a plug-in "cat cannabis" (sounds like a 70s pimp) as the new rave cattery woman told me over the phone, probably still celebrating Klaxons' rather fortunate win in the Mercury Prize the night before. After my electrolisis and her cat cannabis, I'm anticipating a very peaceful house move. By the way, on a Mercury Music tip, here's a blog for one of the judges, so she can explain herself. And here's my early doors tip for 2008 ...

The Go! Team - Doing It Right video

Gonna tear your Playhouse dowwwwwwwn

Cinema how it used to be at Louth Playhouse last night, a world away from the multiplexes and yobs with nachos and a side order of attitude. We went to watch dogs n' beards n' guns n' more dogs Mexican epic Amores Perros (excellent, by the way) and it seemed that everybody in the town had the same idea. Weird to see Tory politicians, convicted criminals, frustrated sub editors, the town doctors and everyone's favourite communist in a wheelchair all watching a scratchy copy of Gael Garcia Bernal, only to be interupted by a (gasp) intermission, with the leg of the R extended to form a fork of lightning, and the muzak from Triangle piped into the cinema while an usherette came round with Peanut Feasts.

Just the usual, then

Amidst the boxes and the random racist conversations with reptile shop owners (involved setting his boa constrictor off on someone who'd come to view his house - nice), we got out and about on the Hull skyline this weekend. East Park Rocks, hosted by everyone's favourite skinny trousered East Yorkshiremen The Paddingtons, attracted lots of fey indie kids, fair-to-middling meat n' potatoes indie rockers, a hefty dose of semi-nakedness and attendant aggression at the drum n'bass tent and some marketing types from the Hull Daily Mail, calling themselves Hull Vibe to try and get the kidz and ver yoof onside. The chaps from Hull Vibe were hanging about at the lentils stand, in an attempt to be "down" and "alternative". Or perhaps they were just hungry. Elswehere, the advantages of dog-sitting were revealed with a lovely walk along the old abandoned sea railway line between Hull and Hornsea. It seems people in villages like Rise and Skirlaugh, who once had a direct line into the great thriving metropolis of Ull just decided to stay in their villages and become weird after Dr Beeching intervened. And capped off the weekend by seeing a part of the Hull skyline disappear in a controlled demolition. I'll post my video, unfortunately trained on the wrong building due to mal-information, when I've made it look more glamorous.

Current location: Internet Cafe at the the circle of Hell

Listening: Richard Hawley, Calvin Harris, Cherry Ghost, new singles by Babyshambles and The Go! Team

Linen Basket Status: Overflowing