If Monkeys Kept Promises…..

Well its time for part two of the much anticipated serial featured in these archives…but first here are those words i promised you, as well as an update of the previous ones……

[Unbridled], [has], [eliminate]

followed by:

[schematic], [Bongo-Bongo], and [Bronson]

thats parts 4, 5 and 6 of four thousand.

Enjoy getting them together…trust me its worth it.


As her hairless lip spasmed gently, my eyes slowly searched her face knowingly for other telltale signs of hidden syndromes, conditions and disorders, any inkling as to what drove her, her childhood traumas, first loves, anything that resulted in an irrational bundle of exiled nerve endings coincedentally wielding the inexorable power to rule her destiny.

I smiled as my old mentor came to mind, Alphonse Regus (pronounced Re-goo), a Frenchman who learned at an early age that all of his friends were fools. That was what he had told me when we first met, answering all my impudent, brash questions with a flick of his hand and a smug raised eyebrow; “They flutter…from place to person to love to work….never once taking a thought for the real reason…..the real purpose”.

My smile evolved into a chuckle as i thought of my original amusement at this bearded old man and his warped take on the world, my amusement that within weeks had become love and awe.

I snapped back to my seat and realised that the young woman, who had now caught my gaze, had misconstrued my smile and subsequent laugh as a broadside aimed at her lack of facial control. My own thoughts, however personal had made her consciousness acknowledge the complex process occurring and somewhere in her brain her defensive circuits kicked in and as i looked away, her hand was raised, covering her mouth, embarrassed.

I feebly attempted to catch her gaze again, in some feeble,vain subconscious attempt at apology, but this soon passed, it always did……any embarassment or feelings of social guilt had long been addressed and dealt with, my medulla oblongata now acting as an emotional tollbooth for the irrationality of human feeling that Regus had warned me from, and taught me to identify.

I’m not implying here that i am immune to human nature, far from it. in fact i am more prone to it now that i am attuned to it and expect its presence. But once you have seen human beings as i have, you no longer allow it to happen, you raise that toll, make it too costly for these emotions to pass the barriers and believe me they will turn and head for the enzyme-secreting gland they call home, leaving you to react as you truly wish.

As the oddly butch air steward, (apparently called ‘laszlo’, which indicated i may have been in eastern Europe at the time) , approached the well-dressed latin woman sat in the row ahead of me i felt myself slip into one of my dream states. I looked at my new watch. It was a Casio, and i was very pleased with it. It reminded me constantly of the ridiclulous and unreachable concept of the “Future”. Twenty years ago, over seventy million human beings glanced down casually at their brand new Casio’s , safe in the knowledge that they were embracing the new ‘digital age’, that they were taking part in a revolutionary new world where we would drink virtual mocchachinos and have sex down a phone line with Swedes, Germans, japanese and even the pinko Commies in Mother Russia.

Flying cars. invisible camouflage suits. Microchips in our lips, brains, fingertips and hands. these watch-bearers convinced that once this technology was available, the world would drop the old obsolete machines and adopt these bigger better more efficient versions of everything.

My watch told me different. it told me that the old things dont get replaced, and the new things just get added to, piled on top without thought layer upon layer, with each layer altered, re-arranged and re-shaped to suit what the next generation would be told to like.

My watch also told me it was 19:47



A homage to a great…..

And for all you real acting fans out there….

Have you ever thought of your favourite dead TV stars and thought: “I wish i could just say…….to him”?????

ever wanted to tell Peter Cook that he’s a genius?

or tell Bob monkhouse to suck on your swingers?

Well there is a way (Kind of)

starting this week i will be attempting to publish links which will allow all of you lovely people to contact, not the dead stars themselves, but their closest living relatives…..nifty eh? if a bit intrusive.

This week’s featured snuffed hero is actor Kevin lloyd, aka Detective Tosh Lines, from ITV’s the Bill.

Follow the link on the side bar and you can send your message of condolence/celebration/congratulation as directly as is now possible, to his son James Lloyd, who is currently starring in……..ITV’s The Bill!

***Please do not send any offensive or inappropriate messages as i’m pretty sure i’ve sent all***
***the best ones already.***

If Monkeys had a dylan-esque songwriting style…

Right. to follow will be words 4,5 and 6 of my manifesto. follwed by part two of the stangely puce-tinged story that is the most talked about serial since Graeme Kellogg Snr decided his company should change his ‘pops’ from the colombian-cocaine derived (‘coca’) to a more family oriented chocolate based recipe (‘coco’).

In the meantime however i will provide a discussion topic for you all.

Has the age of songwriting ended? has our storytelling been reduced to fragmented narratives and hyperbolated drinking stories punctuated by photographic ‘picture phone’ evidence?
My reasons for raising this issue are threefold:
1) Bob Dylan has been covered extensively by the media recently, due to Martin Scorses’s new biodoc, and it has bought people’s takes on dylan to the fore.
2) I know many people who are divided on this very subject, some who despise the man and have even gone as far as implying his involvement in a covered up paedophilia scandal (This story, and if the person in question is reading this take note, is utter conjecture and just highlighted to me the ignorance of the person in question.). there are also those who worship him like a god, but unfortunately this means they are blind to his failings.
3) Dylan is often cited as being the ‘worlds greatest story teller’.
Whilst these are my reasons, there was also a catalytic moment that spurred my action, i read something in an advert for a new cd release and it angered me so much i had to go and pummel my ‘rage-pony’.
And for all of you that don’t know, Katie Melua is a talentless (well she can sing to a moderate degree, which puts her on a par with failed x-factor contestants, kareoke fans and several types of chaffinch, WHICH apparently is enough for a record deal nowadays), brain dead, wannabe hippychick, who makes up for her lack of talent, intelligence, musical knowledge, common sense by making middle of the road lounge numbers (ref: see Cullum Jamie/Legend, John/David, Craig, C*nt, useless) which are often covers.
and for all of those who dont believe me go to: www.katiemelua.com. all the proof is in the proverbial pudding.
Here is what i read:
“There are nine million bicycles in Beijing,
Thats a fact. Its a thing we cant deny,
Like the fact that i will love you till i die”
(Beautiful isnt it…?)
[underneath this astoundingly witless quote is a lovely photo of katie looking vacuously (i wonder how she pulled that off???!!!!!) into space]
Katie Melua_Nine million bicycles (yes that is the name of the song)
The new single out today
Now shall i start or would you like to…..?
Is that not the most utterly uninventive, contrived, ignorant and emotionless bit of writing you have ever heard or am i being unfair?
The thought that when she “wrote” it (the sarcastic speech marks are necessary here to indicate that she was probably sat at a table with five accomplished song-writers all telling her how wonderful and talented and fresh she is) she probably thought that she was being really profound and was probably told by the sycophants around her how clever it was, makes me kind of sick. that this girl has had her insecurities and ego pampered to to such a degree.
I hope someone working for Dramatico records (for that is the hopeless bunch of exec’s that have signed her) reads this and takes note. Katie Melua is a talentless, brain dead shill that has no idea of how utterly mundane she is because of all of the leeches and bottom-feeders she is surrounded with. She is detrimental to ALL music because she is so unaware of how much of an unmitigated c*nt she is.
She is also an indication that we now live in an age where any talentless hippy wannabe that has picked up a guitar in student digs somewhere and has slaughtered a Jeff Buckley song has a chance to have a fully blown music career (James Blunt, Damian rice etc take note) .
But i’m sure Katie’s a nice person…..