tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post3741609797182259563..comments2023-06-08T14:08:00.219+01:00Comments on 17 seconds: Gig review: Wedding Present/St. Jude's InfirmaryEdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14243538543550888272noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-65187763314555532502007-10-29T19:08:00.000+01:002007-10-29T19:08:00.000+01:00...i didn't say to you what I was going ot do if y......i didn't say to you what I was going ot do if you did leave your name *laughs evilly*Edhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14243538543550888272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-7691523941467757532007-10-29T12:59:00.000+01:002007-10-29T12:59:00.000+01:00I think Queen are shite. There you go - I said it...I think Queen are shite. There you go - I said it. Advertising music is all it is.<BR/><BR/><I>*Runs for cover!*</I>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-31121743924172640772007-10-27T09:04:00.000+01:002007-10-27T09:04:00.000+01:00Blimey! You cannot make this stuff up.BTW please l...Blimey! You cannot make this stuff up.<BR/><BR/>BTW please let me know your email, am trying to respond... : )Edhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14243538543550888272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-80564668934870877502007-10-27T05:55:00.000+01:002007-10-27T05:55:00.000+01:00Hello you, you Mr. 17 Secs, you.Here's a little an...Hello you, you Mr. 17 Secs, you.<BR/><BR/>Here's a little anecdote for you re: TWP & Mr. Gedge. I swear it is all true.<BR/><BR/>About 4 years ago I had a 'thing' with the woman who Gedge wrote all the early stuff about (the majority of which making up George Best). It was an interesting 6 or so months. Interesting in the sense of 'got out by the skin of my teeth'.<BR/><BR/>Before me, she was seenig a bald, 40+ year old Russian scientist who made the papers in the 80s after 'escaping' the KGB & defecting to the UK. He went slightly mad after she dumped him & ended up losing his job as a Crystallographer at Cardiff University.<BR/><BR/>Our first "date" ended with us being busted by traffic police, in a layby near Cardiff, having frantic liaisons of an adult movie nature, in the back of her fiat something or other. It was her idea as she was too drunk to drive at the time &, I quote, "couldn't wait to have it" - one suspects there had been a fallow period.<BR/><BR/>The nicely turned out officer said, as I rolled down the window, covering my exclamation with a windscreen rag: "We thought the car had been stolen & dumped for burning, but this is far more interesting". She got points, I had a knuckle rap.<BR/><BR/>We didn't last long & I can see why Gedge was so fucked up as a result of having such a long term involvement with her, for her story is a bizarre one.<BR/><BR/>She was (still is, I believe) a Speech Therapist in her local hospital just on the edge of Cardiff (dealing, mainly, with genuine nutbags & loony tunes), which translates as: she did sound exercises & vocal gymnastics with groups of ever-so brain-wrong long stay parkers. Sort of like Prison Drama Therapy but for the mouth.<BR/><BR/>She was/is a writer/poet who specialised in 'sound' poems (more over-enunciating & chewing air) & a situationalist artist - which, by her definition, meant she collected junk & shit & flytipfuls of absolutely worthless rubbish & stored it all in her NHS bestowed staff house. It was, to say the least, a fucking bomb site. Every couple of months her bosses would inspect her premises to make sure she was keeping it to the standard they expected it. This was because she was living in a house that, ordinarily, would be designated a halfway house for out patients with supervision requirements (ie her patients). Somehow she'd wangled one in this specially built street, with it's specially low rent, & all she had to do to keep it was turn up to work & make sure the place didn't look like The Iron Giany had decorated the place with his arse matter. Unfortunately, most of the time it did. The day before each inspection she'd take a sick day & furiously clean, move & hide the junk (mainly in the garden, not very successfully, under tarps). On one or two occasions she actuallty threw stuff out, but with much heart wrenching.<BR/><BR/>Anyway, she eventually got the letter to say she'd been rumbled & had to leave the property. So, what does she do? She celebrates by taking a lump hammer to an upright piano (one she'd found on the side of a road - don't ask) & record the resulting sound for posterity.<BR/><BR/>We eventually split after I basically ran away screaming (her 10year old son was a Grade A precocious c**t, who took to telling strangers in the street that I was "fucking his mother"). Soon after she met a bus driver at a party, shared a tent for the evening, fell in love over conversations of crystals & healings, got engaged two weeks later (his engagement ring to her? a clitoris piercing...) & then married a month later at the foot of Kilimanjaro.<BR/><BR/>A year after that she turned up on Wife Swap!!! One of the ones where the husband swaps instead of the little woman. It's the episode where the (other wife's) husband is taken to a forest & aurally massaged by some spirit nonce & then made to shout poetry off a Welsh hillside. He also tidied her house up (it was a fucking dustbin of a place) & she went uber mental as a result. Her bus driving husband proceded to destroy what trust the other wife's kids had in kindness & compassion by acting like a tyranical child catcher-sum Victorian headmaster. It was stupefying stuff to watch, especially as I knew them & knew what lunatics they were in real life. She used the resultant bad publicity (local rags had a field day) to help publicise her to-be-published poetry book. She once read at a poetry festival with a hooded top she had customised with the pink embroidered word C**T emblazoned across her tits. It was all rather bizarre.<BR/><BR/>She also saw dead people. She had a 'connection' with spirit, sprites, demons & shadows. She'd often ring me up with freaked out, rambling calls about her being in Ikea & suddenly coming over all wobbly & wondering what it was 'they' were trying to tell her. So, she'd yell "what do you want from me?" at the top of her lungs. On one occasion she was explaining to me she had been folllowing very much the above pattern when, as she yelled one final time into the ever so high rafters, she turned a corner in the aisle & froze. What had she seen? "Well, you know Ikea have these names they like to give their products? Well, I was in the kitchen section & hanging from the ceiling, directly in front of me, was a white board [non-permanent felt pen wipe-off notice board] & in the top corner in red letters was your name! I knew they were trying to diect me somewhere & it was YOU! Tell me, what's happened? You're not hurt are you?"<BR/><BR/>Nope, I certanly wasn't. But I was quite scared of her after a while & eventually managed to avoid her altogether. It's only when TWP come up that I remember her skittishness & downright lunacy.<BR/><BR/>No wonder Gedge wanked his 6-string as manically as he did.<BR/><BR/>A big, fat *phew!* all round.<BR/><BR/>Ta for now. MP3s'll be in the email tomorrow.<BR/><BR/>DCAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-49517045135108963542007-10-26T18:15:00.000+01:002007-10-26T18:15:00.000+01:00Queen and Wedding Present mentioned in the same se...Queen and Wedding Present mentioned in the same sentence, you've as diverse taste as me! (anyone slagging off Queen, leave your name or I will simply call you a coward). Saw Weddoes in 2005 when they first reformed and they were great then too.Edhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14243538543550888272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31163503.post-14871510356384618372007-10-26T17:53:00.000+01:002007-10-26T17:53:00.000+01:00I saw them in Plymouth twice: the first time left ...I saw them in Plymouth twice: the first time left me partially deaf for three days, so the next time I didn't stand right under David's feet, as I had done the first time, and with tissue paper in my ears. They didn't play 'Nobody's Twisting Your Arm' that time, but I think they would have been executed if they didn't play 'Kennedy', so they did. Second most memorable live band ever (first has to be Queen in 79).So It Goeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14055190385945516115noreply@blogger.com