nothing new here, kids...
i'm just gonna bitch about the advertising on myspace for a while....
So there's a little advert for the 'AA' that pops up on my profile.
Great.
It says something about 'having a friend' in the AA.
Cute...like it...I see what they've done there...'Friend'...yeah...very now, very myspace, very web2.0...
Now, you may not know this but me and the AA go way back. WAY back.
When you've got a carbon footprint as big as mine and you're doing it all in old volkswagens and busted up vans you're gonna need the right people on your side, right? I've been hanging out with those cats since the day I got my licence, two days after my seventeenth birthday. Yeah...we used to meet up and party quite a lot; sometimes in my front garden, sometimes up in the city after a crazy night out. In fact, as I look back over my younger days it seems as though, at most of the major goodtime life events I can recall, there was always a big yellow truck pulled up by my orange bug with a grease monkey hanging out the back of it. Yup, come rain or shine, there was always a big friendly pair of hands, all wrapped up in reflective clothing, that knew exactly what to do to get things moving and put a smile on everyone's face.
Ahhh, good times...
good people...
...good friends.
You know, the kind of folks who are always welcome in your house.
"Would you like a cup of tea? You must be freezing."
And, "You got here fast, were you close by?"
And of course, "Tell you what, why don't you wait here and play with the dog and flirt with my girlfriend while I go and put the kettle on?"
All that stuff.
Friend stuff.
Side by side.
Hand in hand.
Like the time they diddled me out of £400.
Like the times they pretended they didn't know me.
Like the time they left me stranded in Scotland in the middle of the night and I had to set my mum on them.
Yup, true friends.
Actually, really, yes...just like real friends.
Oh yeah, and there's some loan people up there as well.
Listen, don't go to these people.
You want money?
I can get you money.
We can work this out...you and me.
Here, take this...go and get yourself something nice. Go have a good time and come and see mrtat in a week.
You look after me...I'll look after you.
Now bend over.
mrtat.
p.s. that mum thing really worked a treat. if you look closely at the next patrol guy you have, you might just see her big black carbon footprint stamped on his reflective yellow AAss.
17 September, 2006
muck and bullets...
Woah, I feel as though I've spent the last few days in the middle of a freezing forest, surrounded by mud and rough cloth and oily metal - where Nature's music of wind and rain and birdsong, and the footfalls of the hooved horses, play alongside man's chorus of hammer blows, shovels digging, boots trudging, locks locking, fires burning and bullets flying.
But, I haven't. I've been painting fences in the sunshine, catching trains, watching tv and eating hot, delicious, nutritious food.
Yup, it really seeped into me, that Bielski book.
Currently reading :
The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Saved 1,200 Jews and Built a Village in the Forest
By Peter Duffy
But, I haven't. I've been painting fences in the sunshine, catching trains, watching tv and eating hot, delicious, nutritious food.
Yup, it really seeped into me, that Bielski book.
Currently reading :
The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Saved 1,200 Jews and Built a Village in the Forest
By Peter Duffy
me me me me me...
So, I helped an ex-girlfriend move some of her mum's stuff around the other day and we found an old exercise book of mine. It had an unfinished story in it, which I must have written when I was nine or ten.
It was all I could do - while wallowing in the pit of self obsession - to type it up and put it on here for you.
I did not change a single word.
Here goes...
Chris and the Slime
Chris was a talented boy, talented at being boring. He only had one friend he could trust and that was his shadow.
His mum wasn't the most energetic person in the world, but at least she didn't lock herself up all day doing housework.
His dad was a teacher in a secondary school in Sheen. He was a lot of fun but strict at times, and as for his brother well he was a bit of a nerd.
Oh! He had a sister too! She was a maniac, every time she saw food she'd start screaming and shouting.
Chris lived in Kingston at the time but a few months after the event I'm going to tell about, he moved far away.
It was a normal Tuesday in school, and at break Chris and I went to visit our imaginary universe. We climbed into Herpes, our time machine and started pushing the buttons.
Chris was a little older than me but we were both ten. He was about the same height as me with blondish hair, specs and a large mouth like mine. He wore shorts sometimes but I was stuck in trousers because of my skinny white hairy legs.
"She's done it," called Chris.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"I dunno," he replied, "I just pushed all the buttons."
"Including the purple one?"
"All of em!" he snapped.
"Great."
"Wha's up?"
"Ev'rything. We've landed in dimension 13, the nightmare."
You see, our imaginary universe is where all peoples dreams go, the nice ones go to dimension 57, and the nightmares to 13.
I reached for the arms cupboard in Herpes and pulled out two armoured suits, four miniature laser cannons and six throwing daggers. There was only one way out of dimension 13, and that was fighting, you had to fight your way to dimension 57, call the time machine and go from there.
After arming ourselves, we clambered out of Herpes and looked around. All was dark for a while, but then a screaming, beaming light came whizzing past. We both jumped straight out of our skins.
We carried on through the void, searching for traps and all sorts. I then remembered I had a torch in my helmet next to the fan. I turned it on and suddenly the air was filled with screams and shouts and other inhuman noises. Very slowly, we crept through the ground cocoa beans which the strange light sprinkled.
Chris told me that he'd seen the beans somewhere before.
"Where?" I inquired.
"Oh, just on a plant I found last night."
A few minutes later I noticed the blank landscape was slowly turning into a dense forest of death. There were creatures ready to kill behind literally every corner, growling and spitting at each other.
That's as far as I got.
What a poof.
We also found a video of my old band, 'feedback' from 1991. Haven't watched that yet because my vcr blew up.
It was all I could do - while wallowing in the pit of self obsession - to type it up and put it on here for you.
I did not change a single word.
Here goes...
Chris and the Slime
Chris was a talented boy, talented at being boring. He only had one friend he could trust and that was his shadow.
His mum wasn't the most energetic person in the world, but at least she didn't lock herself up all day doing housework.
His dad was a teacher in a secondary school in Sheen. He was a lot of fun but strict at times, and as for his brother well he was a bit of a nerd.
Oh! He had a sister too! She was a maniac, every time she saw food she'd start screaming and shouting.
Chris lived in Kingston at the time but a few months after the event I'm going to tell about, he moved far away.
It was a normal Tuesday in school, and at break Chris and I went to visit our imaginary universe. We climbed into Herpes, our time machine and started pushing the buttons.
Chris was a little older than me but we were both ten. He was about the same height as me with blondish hair, specs and a large mouth like mine. He wore shorts sometimes but I was stuck in trousers because of my skinny white hairy legs.
"She's done it," called Chris.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"I dunno," he replied, "I just pushed all the buttons."
"Including the purple one?"
"All of em!" he snapped.
"Great."
"Wha's up?"
"Ev'rything. We've landed in dimension 13, the nightmare."
You see, our imaginary universe is where all peoples dreams go, the nice ones go to dimension 57, and the nightmares to 13.
I reached for the arms cupboard in Herpes and pulled out two armoured suits, four miniature laser cannons and six throwing daggers. There was only one way out of dimension 13, and that was fighting, you had to fight your way to dimension 57, call the time machine and go from there.
After arming ourselves, we clambered out of Herpes and looked around. All was dark for a while, but then a screaming, beaming light came whizzing past. We both jumped straight out of our skins.
We carried on through the void, searching for traps and all sorts. I then remembered I had a torch in my helmet next to the fan. I turned it on and suddenly the air was filled with screams and shouts and other inhuman noises. Very slowly, we crept through the ground cocoa beans which the strange light sprinkled.
Chris told me that he'd seen the beans somewhere before.
"Where?" I inquired.
"Oh, just on a plant I found last night."
A few minutes later I noticed the blank landscape was slowly turning into a dense forest of death. There were creatures ready to kill behind literally every corner, growling and spitting at each other.
That's as far as I got.
What a poof.
We also found a video of my old band, 'feedback' from 1991. Haven't watched that yet because my vcr blew up.
bootiful
"I'm tired of all this nonsense about beauty being only skin-deep. That's deep enough. What do you want, an adorable pancreas?" - Jean Kerr
'ousework...
One o y'all already knows this, but here goes...
A coupla days ago I noticed a pretty crummy smell in my study. My study is next to my kitchen so I, kind of logically, assumed that there was something going bad in my bin. I took the rubbish out, cleaned up the dishes and went off out for the night.
Surprise surprise, when I came home there was the funky smell. Dang.
Next up, I get a call from my girlfriend over in Canadia saying that a coupla her friends are coming to London for a coupla days and can I put them up? 'Hey, no problem, honey.'
Yeah, yeah. No problem, just a freaky smell that I can't figure out that, to a stranger, really makes it seem like I can't look after myself (yup, by now it's turned into one of THOSE smells). But hey, I'll just tidy the joint up and stick some candles around the place...we'll be fine.
Uh-uh. Halfway through the job my vacuum cleaner explodes in a cloud of "now you're really screwed, oh, and by the way, change the bag more often so that it's not full of crap the next time I decide to blow up on you," dust. Sheesh.
So then, I go into the bathroom to wash my face and hands and the light switch falls apart!
Time to call the landlady...
She's like, 'Oh, that's too bad. I just had a professional cleaner in the flat upstairs,' turns out that when my upstairs neighbours moved out recently they just unplugged their three fridge freezers, full of food and ice, and left them unattended in the room above my study. Since then a little flow of stinky food water has been trying to find a way into my flat through the corner of the ceiling right above my head as I write this. 'And I can't get a contractor to come and fix the light till next Monday.' I know, I know, I could fix the light myself but you don't know my landlady, we've had big fights about me playing with the electrics in this place. It's like I have to let her know in writing when I wanna charge my mobile phone.
So anyways. I'm not the most houseproud european guy you're gonna meet, but I haven't had any guests staying for quite a while and I wanted the place to be nice for them - especially as they are Canadian chick friends of my girlfiend...can you imagine?...
'Hey, chiquitas, d'yer have a good time in London?'
'Oh yeah, eh?'
'How's mrtat?'
'Oh, he's doing fine, eh?'
'And how was the place?'
'Yeah, you know, it was ok, eh? There was kind of a funny smell in there...and a big pile of dust on the floor...and we had to bathe in the dark...but yeah, eh?'.
Yeah....think I might just leave some keys out for them and piss off for the weekend...let 'em do London by themselves and then come back and call up my girl....
'Hey! Your damn friends! My place is all f@£$ed up!'
Bah!
A coupla days ago I noticed a pretty crummy smell in my study. My study is next to my kitchen so I, kind of logically, assumed that there was something going bad in my bin. I took the rubbish out, cleaned up the dishes and went off out for the night.
Surprise surprise, when I came home there was the funky smell. Dang.
Next up, I get a call from my girlfriend over in Canadia saying that a coupla her friends are coming to London for a coupla days and can I put them up? 'Hey, no problem, honey.'
Yeah, yeah. No problem, just a freaky smell that I can't figure out that, to a stranger, really makes it seem like I can't look after myself (yup, by now it's turned into one of THOSE smells). But hey, I'll just tidy the joint up and stick some candles around the place...we'll be fine.
Uh-uh. Halfway through the job my vacuum cleaner explodes in a cloud of "now you're really screwed, oh, and by the way, change the bag more often so that it's not full of crap the next time I decide to blow up on you," dust. Sheesh.
So then, I go into the bathroom to wash my face and hands and the light switch falls apart!
Time to call the landlady...
She's like, 'Oh, that's too bad. I just had a professional cleaner in the flat upstairs,' turns out that when my upstairs neighbours moved out recently they just unplugged their three fridge freezers, full of food and ice, and left them unattended in the room above my study. Since then a little flow of stinky food water has been trying to find a way into my flat through the corner of the ceiling right above my head as I write this. 'And I can't get a contractor to come and fix the light till next Monday.' I know, I know, I could fix the light myself but you don't know my landlady, we've had big fights about me playing with the electrics in this place. It's like I have to let her know in writing when I wanna charge my mobile phone.
So anyways. I'm not the most houseproud european guy you're gonna meet, but I haven't had any guests staying for quite a while and I wanted the place to be nice for them - especially as they are Canadian chick friends of my girlfiend...can you imagine?...
'Hey, chiquitas, d'yer have a good time in London?'
'Oh yeah, eh?'
'How's mrtat?'
'Oh, he's doing fine, eh?'
'And how was the place?'
'Yeah, you know, it was ok, eh? There was kind of a funny smell in there...and a big pile of dust on the floor...and we had to bathe in the dark...but yeah, eh?'.
Yeah....think I might just leave some keys out for them and piss off for the weekend...let 'em do London by themselves and then come back and call up my girl....
'Hey! Your damn friends! My place is all f@£$ed up!'
Bah!
reet narky
i can get reet narky sometimes.
here is a letter i wrote on behalf of my friend when he got a parking ticket one morning:
Re: Penalty Charge Notice no. 52754
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am writing to appeal against the issuing of Penalty Charge Notice (PCN) No. 52754.
I understand that the laws governing the issuance of penalty charge notices for parking offences give out that for a notice to be issued;
a) any given vehicle must be left unattended at the time that it comes to the attention of the traffic warden in question,
and that;
b) the vehicle must be seen to remain unattended by that warden for a period of at least 4 minutes before a PCN can be issued,
and that;
c) during these four minutes the issuing warden may fill out the notice which is to be placed on the vehicle but may not place it on the vehicle until the end of this period.
I do not believe that these procedures were followed in the issung of PCN No. 52754.
At the time that PCN No. 52754 was placed on vehicle AWB 24 I was descending a flight of stairs in Comeragh Road having just spoken to traffic warden VII 83 from a second floor window. The conversation that we had had went like this:
Myself: Excuse me, you're not giving me a ticket are you?
Warden: Yes. I'm writing it out now.
Myself: Please wait a moment. I'm just going to come down and move the vehicle.
Warden: You've got two minutes.
After this exchange I came down into Comeragh Road to find the warden walking away from vehicle AWB 24 which had PCN No. 52754 on its window.
Let me assure you that even on my worst day it doesn't take me more than 45 seconds to get my beautiful white ass and the tight rubbery bum tube it surrounds down a couple of flights of stairs. I can get from the second floor to street level really fast. I do this sort of thing all the time, yeah?...running up and downstairs, yeah, do it all the time. I used to work in a hotel, yeah?...used to be a room service guy. Part of my job was going up and down stairs for ages, taking people their soup and shit, right? And when I looked after my gran when she was ill and that, I was going up and down with pots of vomit mixed with blood and all sorts.
So what I'm saying is, I know damn well it didn't take me no fuckin' two minutes to get down there and see your pussy little queer traffic warden walking off with his smug self and my fuckin' car sat there with your cunt-arsed ticket on it.
Let me tell you this, right?...You lot better watch yourselves going near snazzy little green Rovers from now on, yeah?...The next time any of you cunts come any where near my fuckin' car, you better keep your eyes peeled 'cos you might miss the angry little white kid coming after you wreckin' shit man, ripping up the stones to get to you.
You got a tongue, yeah? You and your mates got tongues yeah? Why don't you use them to go and lick your mothers' fannies?
I ain't paying no fine.
Dominic Bond.
i got a wasp sting on my neck today n'all.
damn.
here is a letter i wrote on behalf of my friend when he got a parking ticket one morning:
Re: Penalty Charge Notice no. 52754
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am writing to appeal against the issuing of Penalty Charge Notice (PCN) No. 52754.
I understand that the laws governing the issuance of penalty charge notices for parking offences give out that for a notice to be issued;
a) any given vehicle must be left unattended at the time that it comes to the attention of the traffic warden in question,
and that;
b) the vehicle must be seen to remain unattended by that warden for a period of at least 4 minutes before a PCN can be issued,
and that;
c) during these four minutes the issuing warden may fill out the notice which is to be placed on the vehicle but may not place it on the vehicle until the end of this period.
I do not believe that these procedures were followed in the issung of PCN No. 52754.
At the time that PCN No. 52754 was placed on vehicle AWB 24 I was descending a flight of stairs in Comeragh Road having just spoken to traffic warden VII 83 from a second floor window. The conversation that we had had went like this:
Myself: Excuse me, you're not giving me a ticket are you?
Warden: Yes. I'm writing it out now.
Myself: Please wait a moment. I'm just going to come down and move the vehicle.
Warden: You've got two minutes.
After this exchange I came down into Comeragh Road to find the warden walking away from vehicle AWB 24 which had PCN No. 52754 on its window.
Let me assure you that even on my worst day it doesn't take me more than 45 seconds to get my beautiful white ass and the tight rubbery bum tube it surrounds down a couple of flights of stairs. I can get from the second floor to street level really fast. I do this sort of thing all the time, yeah?...running up and downstairs, yeah, do it all the time. I used to work in a hotel, yeah?...used to be a room service guy. Part of my job was going up and down stairs for ages, taking people their soup and shit, right? And when I looked after my gran when she was ill and that, I was going up and down with pots of vomit mixed with blood and all sorts.
So what I'm saying is, I know damn well it didn't take me no fuckin' two minutes to get down there and see your pussy little queer traffic warden walking off with his smug self and my fuckin' car sat there with your cunt-arsed ticket on it.
Let me tell you this, right?...You lot better watch yourselves going near snazzy little green Rovers from now on, yeah?...The next time any of you cunts come any where near my fuckin' car, you better keep your eyes peeled 'cos you might miss the angry little white kid coming after you wreckin' shit man, ripping up the stones to get to you.
You got a tongue, yeah? You and your mates got tongues yeah? Why don't you use them to go and lick your mothers' fannies?
I ain't paying no fine.
Dominic Bond.
i got a wasp sting on my neck today n'all.
damn.
reet ponce:
I can be a reet ponce sometimes.
Here is a letter I wrote to a bloke who runs an independent cinema in Toronto.
It looks like I'm trying to kiss his ass so that he'll like me. I'm not. It's just, every now and now and then I really want people to think I'm clever...
Dear _____,
I'm writing becuase I really enjoyed coming to the cineforum today to
watch 'Truimph of the Will'.
I think that what you are doing at the forum is a great thing that
should be done a lot more in cities the world over. I know that there
is nothing like it in London, where I am from (or maybe there is - if
you know anything, please let me know). But, hey...you've heard all
this before....
Rearding your talk before the film;
I wonder if you have seen the new 'Superman Returns' movie. I don't
imagine that it is particularly up your street but when you spoke
about the christian imagery in Riefenstahl's film I remembered the
last 30 minutes of Singer's - it's basically the Easter story but with
a flying Jesus wrapped in the american flag. You've got everything -
the ascension (however it's spelled), the empty tomb...he even assumes
a crucifix pose several times while he's flying about the place...hmm.
While watching 'Truimph of the Will' I was struck by how familiar a
lot of the footage was. The footage, not the imagery. I felt a bit
cheated by every documentary film I have seen about the Nazis and the
war. None of their creators had, it seemed, gone very far outside of
this film to find any evidence of 'how silly those crazy Germans
were'.
As I mentioned above, I really enjoyed my afternoon at the forum
but I would like to make two suggestions to you about showing black
and white films in the space that you have.
I strongly urge you to try watching 'Triumph of the Will' with the
colour disabled on your projector or dvd machine. I find that when
watching black and white dvds projected on to a large screen the
colour articles that are present, particularly in fast moving
action sequences, become much more evident and can be distracting to
the eye, leaving you with blue and green edges on the moving white
sections. Of course, disabling the colour altogether does mean that you
lose some of the warming brown tones that come through from the reds
in the video, but I do think that 'Truimph of the Will' would benefit
from being 'crisped up' a bit. It comes down to personal
preference...give it a go though.
Also, I think that lowering the mid range or boosting the bass and
treble frequencies in the sound would help to deal with the frequently
pushed and sibilant sound that is found on older films. On modern
equipment this sound can be very harsh to the ear and lead to 'aural
fatigue' but is quickly checked with a little knob twiddling.
I know that 'Triumph of the Will' is not meant to be an easy ride. I'm
not trying to get you to create a multiplex feel in your forum. I hope
these suggestions are helpful.
Thanks again for a great afternoon. I wish I had more time in Tronnow
so I could visit you more - I wonder if you will be showing any of your
apparently complete collection of early 'Superman' animations soon.
Someone's gotta put that Singer kid right.
Best wishes,
mrtat.
...blimey; Superman and Riefenstahl...colour articles and aural fatigue...
I can be a reet ponce sometimes...
Here is a letter I wrote to a bloke who runs an independent cinema in Toronto.
It looks like I'm trying to kiss his ass so that he'll like me. I'm not. It's just, every now and now and then I really want people to think I'm clever...
Dear _____,
I'm writing becuase I really enjoyed coming to the cineforum today to
watch 'Truimph of the Will'.
I think that what you are doing at the forum is a great thing that
should be done a lot more in cities the world over. I know that there
is nothing like it in London, where I am from (or maybe there is - if
you know anything, please let me know). But, hey...you've heard all
this before....
Rearding your talk before the film;
I wonder if you have seen the new 'Superman Returns' movie. I don't
imagine that it is particularly up your street but when you spoke
about the christian imagery in Riefenstahl's film I remembered the
last 30 minutes of Singer's - it's basically the Easter story but with
a flying Jesus wrapped in the american flag. You've got everything -
the ascension (however it's spelled), the empty tomb...he even assumes
a crucifix pose several times while he's flying about the place...hmm.
While watching 'Truimph of the Will' I was struck by how familiar a
lot of the footage was. The footage, not the imagery. I felt a bit
cheated by every documentary film I have seen about the Nazis and the
war. None of their creators had, it seemed, gone very far outside of
this film to find any evidence of 'how silly those crazy Germans
were'.
As I mentioned above, I really enjoyed my afternoon at the forum
but I would like to make two suggestions to you about showing black
and white films in the space that you have.
I strongly urge you to try watching 'Triumph of the Will' with the
colour disabled on your projector or dvd machine. I find that when
watching black and white dvds projected on to a large screen the
colour articles that are present, particularly in fast moving
action sequences, become much more evident and can be distracting to
the eye, leaving you with blue and green edges on the moving white
sections. Of course, disabling the colour altogether does mean that you
lose some of the warming brown tones that come through from the reds
in the video, but I do think that 'Truimph of the Will' would benefit
from being 'crisped up' a bit. It comes down to personal
preference...give it a go though.
Also, I think that lowering the mid range or boosting the bass and
treble frequencies in the sound would help to deal with the frequently
pushed and sibilant sound that is found on older films. On modern
equipment this sound can be very harsh to the ear and lead to 'aural
fatigue' but is quickly checked with a little knob twiddling.
I know that 'Triumph of the Will' is not meant to be an easy ride. I'm
not trying to get you to create a multiplex feel in your forum. I hope
these suggestions are helpful.
Thanks again for a great afternoon. I wish I had more time in Tronnow
so I could visit you more - I wonder if you will be showing any of your
apparently complete collection of early 'Superman' animations soon.
Someone's gotta put that Singer kid right.
Best wishes,
mrtat.
...blimey; Superman and Riefenstahl...colour articles and aural fatigue...
I can be a reet ponce sometimes...
overheard...
a canadian gardener said this:
"You fat f***in' raccoon asshole!"
a fat girl in a chocolate shop said this:
"I don't think I'm allergic to nuts but once I ate a walnut straight from the shell and my whole tongue swelled up, like this..."
a smart ass little posh kid said this:
"I know how to spell 'banana' but I don't know when to stop."
"You fat f***in' raccoon asshole!"
a fat girl in a chocolate shop said this:
"I don't think I'm allergic to nuts but once I ate a walnut straight from the shell and my whole tongue swelled up, like this..."
a smart ass little posh kid said this:
"I know how to spell 'banana' but I don't know when to stop."
in under siege, when gary busey is freaking out he grabs a sailor and says this:
"You have done a good job up to now, but you are about to be relieved of doody!"
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