Tuesday, 21 March 2006

Tim Westwood and Other Animals


-The lowest of the low. The most incomprehensibly out of place, unknowing failure of a character we're likely to ever see unless for some reason we suddenly find out Alan Partridge was real. And even then it'd be close. There is nothing good about tim westwood on any serious level at all. If it was all some huge joke, and i sometimes tell myself it must be, by some guy to make us all cringe-like Ali G but good-i think it'd be the best act of comedy ever, because it all seems like a brilliantly done portrayal of a mid-life crisis. But its so serious. Thats what gets me.

Its how a man born only eleven years after my parents can seriously say things like 'oh yeah man, i was up there at da club last night, and i was dancing with so many ladies, i had to wonder if any bruvvas were gonna get in because it was just so jam packed with ladies from wall to wall right at the beginning. So many ladies...' with seemingly no sense of how ludricous this all is.

Some of his catchphrases which radio 1 listeners will be used to:

"My skills are PSYCHE!"

"Drop a bomb on it"

"Its gonna go bang in your face!" (-my favourite)

"Go hard or go home" (-close second)

"Fall back"-what?

"I'm the big dog"

"Nothing but big things"

All very well and shite, but for someone who went to Norwich private Cathedral Grammar School? Perhaps a little out of place...

When you listen to Westwoods radio 1 show, the overriding feeling you get is that its like when the semi-nerdy kid at primary school, who wore Gola tracksuits when everyone else wore Adidas and Reebok ones, by some strange twist of fate got to hang out with the cool kids-who'd already seen a few 15 films and made jokes about sex that were too foreign to you for you to risk not laughing at- y'know that type. And there'd be that atmosphere that was unstoppable that this was a person who could study the people he wanted to be incredibly closely and notice their behaviour, but when he came to do it himself, he may as well have pissed himself for how shameful it all was. But the cooler kids wouldnt show up this obvious fake, because they were appreciating the ultimate compliment that is someone emulating you and didnt want to disrupt it. This is EXACTLY what Tim Westwoods radio shows are like, its almost like dropping a microphone into that playground situation. Tim Westwood will sit with whoever he's got on his show and the conversation will basically be a circle of;

'You're a brilliant rapper'

'yeah thanks'

'Yeah totally man, you're a brilliant rapper, totally agree with you there. Buzzin'

'oh thats cool of you to say man'

'nothing but big things'

Most conversations are interspersed with a black person shouting 'Westwoooooooood!' muffled in the backround occasionally. I dont what we're meant to think when this happens, perhaps that hes broadcasting live from da hood, where he is so famous that people shout his name from the streets up to his bedroom pirate radio station that is also radio 1. Maybe we're supposed to think its tim himself rapping, as we are when he puts his picture on the front of his compilation cds and calls them 'westwood-anthology' and so on. Maybe tim westwood should just fuck off.

I guess i should stop listening to the radio.


Here are some anagrams of my name that i like:








Be honest, you checked them to see if they really were anagrams didnt you


My guitar smashed itself in half last night. I cant help but feel partly responsible, as i had propped it on a plastic box at a slanty angle a few seconds before its suicide attempt, and perhaps this act of neglect was what pushed it over the edge, who can say. I feel like i've lost a good friend, we're gonna to try to get it repaired but its not looking good. I'm very pissed, it took me so long to buy that fucker.


Harolds going mental, harolds going mental, harolds going mentalllll

Harold <3 Murder and 'repression of evil' (ie murder)



Saturday, 18 March 2006

The live final of Stars in their Eyes Kids...

...was something I missed. I was kinda upset when i realised. The main reason i wanted to watch, apart from my deep and pure love for it, was to watch the entrants that were clearly flukes that could sing one song a bit like the artist fall flat on their faces with attempts at others. Like the kylie minogue girl. Sometimes i'm such a victim of the reality tv mindset, and i watch just to see people make total badgers of themselves. Shameful.

A big wreck of a week this week. 3 days off with le flu, wasnt even fun illness either. It was the properly knackering type that could probably batter you dead easily if it felt like it.

Spent most of my week re-acquainting myself with how blisteringly funny brasseye and the day today are. Especially the one where Chris Morris interviews an elderly female rights activist, and asked what she would do if he tried to sexually assault her ("its not VERY likely to happen, but lets just say it did...")-

'I would beat you off'

'How long would you beat me off for?'

'Well as long as it took'

'And what if another man tried to join in'

'Well i'd have to beat him off as well'

'But what if a whole room of men were going at you, would you beat all them off as well?'

'Well i'd have a jolly good go'

'And what about the dry cleaning afterwards?'

'...oh, moneys the least of it.'

ahh...lol lol

So yeah, a week well spent. It can be summed up with this image:

Lou's mini-party on thursday night was wicked, too. All good people in a good house, led to all round good times. Face painingly good.


Possible names for my children:

Golly Gosh

Eagle St. Leo Sarah-Jane Monarchy Battallion Jr.

Quincy Lego

Sesame the Inevitable Warrior (Sammy for short)

Butter Me-Uppington

Bruce Branches

Hattie Craze


I remember when Deal or No Deal wasnt funny to anyone except me and Jon.


Here are some pictures of animals:


And thats all for this week

Bye bye


Tuesday, 7 March 2006

Least favourite type of prejudice

There is at least a funny side to having a cold: the mind numbing effect it has on your..on your mind..
My mum just said it wasnt a good idea to drink coffee this late at night. My reply was 'I'll drink whatever I want to do'. Fuck..

I'm already worried about the effect of myspace. There are now so many ways to contact me-text me, phone me, phone me at home, email me, talk to me on msn, write me a letter, parcelbomb me, comment to me on myspace, 'bulletin' me, email me on myspace, write a comment about my pictures on myspace, leave me flowers, and so on.

I can tell its going to get too hard to handle, and soon i'll have to desperately phone some cheap company advertised on channel five to sort my life into one fixed, easy monthly payment.

I've written four people poems but no one has written me one. This makes me weep into my willow. Pillow, i mean.

At tea today my mum said "whenever i feel down, i just thank myself that i'm not a german or an emperor penguin". It worked to cheer me up, but perhaps not in the racist and illogical way she intended.

At another dinner, months before, she discussed the legal status behind burning corpses in our garden.

Song of the day: 'Deceptacon' by Le Tigre. Its brilliant, one of those things that makes me think my generation has a lot of hope after all. I heard a version of in which the vocals were replaced by those of 'get ur freak on' by Missy Elliott, and it was a most magical of experiences, a lot like finding a fiver in an old coat-at first immense confusion followed by an over-riding feeling of happiness.

I need a job. Anyone that wants me to pay me to do something for them-get in touch. Essays, dumping of boy/girlfriends and vandalism are all fine.

Question of the day: What is the most normal thing you've ever seen?(Dont really answer this)

James X

Saturday, 4 March 2006

And so it begins

Christ setting all this up took a long time. It had better be worth it, but i dont see how it can really. I'm only here cos Sarah insisted that it was my destiny, and who am I to argue with destiny or, more importantly, Sarah?

I feel assez rotten today, as i spent a few hours walking in the snow last night with Tom Poole, so i have a 'chill' whatever the fuck that is. He took me on a tour of the sites of Frodsham-Steph Cooper's house, The Spanish Properties shop, The place where you are most likely to die, if such a thing exists in frodsham.

I'm streaming Bjork's album 'Medulla' from http://cdzinc.com/cdzinc.html, which I bought my brother for Christmas once but have never heard myself. I don't know much about the album but i do know that she was deliberately trying to do something totally different with it, and she seems to have succeeded. It sounds like a collection of random recordings of windy sounding oohs and thumps which by a wonderful coincidence fit perfectly together, which it probably is in reality. Throat singing from an icelandic midget...

I'm writing stories, which me and James want to record with sound effects and dancey keyboard parts one saturday. It is proving hard. We want it to be dark words with light music to make an amusing contrast. So far i have a tale of a victorian christmas and something called 'Leo Sayer'. It is not going well.

Plans for Jizzlefizzle are in the pipeline kids, volunteers welcome...

Jaymz xXx