I Remember Friday Nights

I do - it doesn't seem that long ago but as I sat at home, on my own with my takeaway curry I started to reminisce about what a Friday night used to actually mean to me.

I used to like playing gigs on a Friday night - there was something surreal about the preparation of setting up the equipment, doing the sound checks and thinking my mates were in the pub drinking beer ready to go to a disco.

I hated discos with a vengeance. I hated the preening, poncing males. The over-priced drinks and the fights afterwards because some male had looked at someone else's femlae in the wrong way. They're people, not possessions you twats.

In the meantime, after the soundcheck had been done, the band would sit there drinking free beer arguing about changes in the set-list for that evening. Eventually, we'd have a majority decision on the set list written on the nearest available beer mat. This would be blu-tacked to the nearest amp that we could all see (the drummer didn't count as he made his shit up anyway).

The lights would dim, the smoke machine would kick in (alright, it was the roadie smoking 3 Marlboro at a time and puffing it out of a megaphone) and we would be introduced.

Then all hell would break loose as we hadn't told the management quite how loud we were going to play. We didn't care, we were having way too much fun. For 60 minutes or so, the sonic boom would reverberate about the place. Then it was the time to end. With a wailing of guitars and occassionally a flouncing off stage by the lead singer, the lights would go back up.

Whilst the roadie patiently packed equipment away, we would talk to members of the audience who wanted to share their.....stuff. I got some mighty strange offers but being a virgin, always declined.

Once the equipment had been loaded and the roadie had set off, we set off to the nearest rock club or Gothic dive. We probably smelt like badgers arses but we didn't care.

Now it was party time and so we took full advantage of it. Oh the days of drinking diet coke and eating chicken in a basket - don't know anything about that shit at all. We drank anything that contained alcohol, whatever the colour - as for food, who needs it?

The places we went to never had fights - people were generally too stoned to care. If we were lucky, we might get home at 7 am, if not, we just slept in the nearest hedge or whatever.

I would say I'm not proud of it, but that would be a lie.

It was ROCK and we loved every minute of it.

So, as I sit staring at the remnants of my curry, on my own, I can truly say - life's not what it used to be.....

Ooops I Lost a Day

I know I've been ill but how can you lose a day? That's just plain stupid. Here I was all morning thinking it was Thursday and it's actually Friday. It's not like I can walk backwards to get it back either.

I can understand losing your keys, or a hat but some things cannot be found again.

I lost my virginity. Well, where did you leave it? In the bed I think. DOH - too late

I lost my temper. Careless indeed and even you you find calm instead, it will not replaced whatever you smashed at the time.

I lost my way - ugh, you like Frank Sinatra or were you clever and lost the Pistols version, easier done as it's anarchic.

They even did a whole series of programs called Lost. I never watched it, I mean how boring would that be?

*Cut to two survivors on a desert island*

"What happened?" - "I lost my keys" "But how?" "Well, when the plane crashed into the mountain, and everyone rolled downhill to the beach, they must have just fallen out".

What next? - The sequel? FOUND. Lots of aircrash survivors get rescued by a boat, but the captain is really clever and brought a metal detector because he just knows that someone will have lost their keys.

I'd love to work in the Lost & Found office in some large place like Grand Central Station. This is a genuine list of some of the items there (coutesy of National Geographic magazine):-


Cell Phones
iPods
Umbrellas

(all usual stuff - now for the WTF's)

False teeth
A pair of ear lobes (left by a plastic surgeon)
An Urn of ashes (deliberate as the woman hated her husbands cheating)
A very mournful looking basset hound

Some people eh? What's the strangest thing you've lost?

A Case of Mistaken Identity

So there I was, peacefully smoking a cigarette on the train platform station when a policeman comes up to me and says:-

(in French first, which I ignored, then Flemish, which I ignored)

"Sorry Sir, you must put that cigarette out"

to which I replied....

"Sorry, you must have me confused with someone who gives a fuck"

He reached for his gun, I put the cigarette out. I'm cocky, not fucking stupid.

===============

Which brings me to Part 2. In the Big Blogger house, the voting has changed to those you want to keep in. So go here and vote for anyone except me, otherwise I get stuck in that rat-infested dump for another week.

Go here to vote.

Now I'm off to the pub because they sell alcohol.

*tips hat and departs*

Goth Goes Brazilian

Well, sort of. Busy minding my own business - i.e. doing fuck all really, lady Daphne of the Muff calls me and requests a meeting in the park. Apparently there's an oopen air music festival - so all that's required is some decent weather (like that'll happen in Bruxelles. Anyway, 'It's a bit like Glastonbury' she said as I looked out at the miserable, rain laden sky. 'Yeah, full of mud and shit music' I thought but wouldn't have dared to be so rude.

Rain calls for a change of plan - "Is there a bar near this park thing?" I asked and having had the obvious confirmed, I headed off in that direction at dawn, or about 3 in the afternoon, which is as close to dawn as I get.

We met in the bar and started quaffing our beers looking at the weather taking a turn for the worse. Then the strangest thing happened, one by one a Brazilian samba band started coming in to the bar with their instruments to get out of the rain. "This could prove interesting" I said to Daphne - "Why?" she asked. "Because they won't be able to resist the urge to start playing".

Sure enough, barely 10 minutes had elapsed and the music started. So there we were, sat on comfy chairs in a small bar, listening to samba music for at least 2 hours.

Who cares if it's raining outside, when it feels like Brazil on the inside. At one point, they even persuaded me to get up and sing with them - been awhile since I did that in public.

A jolly good time was had by all, although I think the volume of beer drunk may have been slightly excessive but so what - free gigs in small bars. Who needs to go and roll around in the mud at Glastonbury - fuck that for a game of soldiers.

I love it when a plan comes together....

10 Things You May Not Know About Me

Prompted by the luscious Honey (as you can be) - here is a list of 10 things you may not know about me:-

1) I can play the cello - really well (when I'm not too pissed)

2) I like 'bumpy toast' (toast with tuna and cheese, so called because when I was waking up and the woman of my dreams presented it to me, I said "Oh wow, look, bumpy toast")

3) Kids are fascinated by me - all kids. Their gaze follows me even if I fall through a hedge.

4) I collect 'free stuff' - anything will do, keyrings, pens - if it's free, I don't care. Doesn't matter that I'm never going to use it.

5) I can't stand to watch someone touch their eyes (like putting contact lenses in) - blood, no problem, eyes - gaaaarrrrgghh

6) If I drink a bad glass of wine, I can throw up only that glass of wine - not everything else, just that particular wine.

7) I hate flies - all of them. I'm like a cat that wants to swat them. Doesn't matter where I am, or what I'm doing - die, bastard, die

8) I don't like water. Fear of drowning I guess but, try and put me on a boat at your peril.

9) I love frozen peas - to eat, as they are, before they're defrosted.

10) I hate feet. Not just my feet, anybodys feet - fucking freaky things.

And I tag - Zoe, MrX, Timbo, Edvard, and Brom

Do it, don't do it - I don't really give a shit....but, it would be funny if you did Space Cadets.....

I Don't Cry Much

I Don't Cry Much, because I'm big and hard and insensitive and Gothic and evil.

Only two things will make me cry - mini-Goth and mini-Gothess. I've done some crazy shit in my life, but I NEVER regret creating the two superstars of the uiniverse.

I've done some horrible shit in my life, but none worse than having to leave them.

I wish things could be different. I'm fairly sure I've been painted as the evil twat from hell - I'm not. Anyone who actually knows me will tell you I'm not evil. Anyone who knows me on a day to day basis, will tell you I am not the Antichrist.

However, it's time for me to start stabbing people in the eyes with pencils and if you don't like it, stay the fuck away from me...

My son just said "hasta luego xxxluv u dad"

I cried.

He's never called me 'dad' since I had to leave.

Besos mon amigo

Honey, I Fucked The Kids up

I Miss Them So Much, I Could Die

It's one thing, fucking up a relationship - quite another, fucking your kids lives up. Honey, you saw it tonight - yes, that's the reason I couldn't put myself in the same room as those cherubs. It hurts too much. I have cried so many tears that it pains me too much to do so again.

I am actually, very good with children - if you don't pressurise me into being so.

I am lucky that I have a mini-Goth who is talented, beautiful and brave - articulate, and artistic. Unfortunately, he has nowhere near the capacity for evil I possess. But, his mother will not allow me to protect him. I am not allowed to go into his school, rip the beating hearts of his oppressors and gorge on their hearts while they bleed to death.

I have a mini-Gothess who is stubborn, looks like a fairy-tale princess and will kick the crap out of anyone who annoys her. She is artistic also, but sensitive in a different way. She will never allow herself to be dominated, which may be a good thing but maybe not. She doesn't need protecting but again, I am not allowed to protect her.

I would protect their mother too but, I am not allowed to do so.

Basically I'm fucked. I never wanted to lock the children in Crystal Cages but, I always wanted to be there to bring down vengeance if required. I wanted to be the Goth of War if they needed it

Oh well, shit happens..........

ala,
SG

A Rhinos Curious Dick

So, whilst perusing some nature programme the other night on TV, I was surprised to learn that a Rhino's penis has the most amazing ability. It can open up a bit like an umbrella. Apparently, this is to stop it from sliding out of the female whilst mating.

I'm not surprised the fuckers are endangered. I mean, assuming a Rhino gets an unwanted erection when he sees a 'pretty' female, he's going to look pretty stupid. "Ooh is that an umbrella or are you just pleased to see me?".

Now the thing is, logically, if nature has developed this mutation of the penile appendage, it means that the male Rhino is naturally crap at foreplay. I mean, if you put your todger into a female and she attempts to make a run for it, you're not doing everything quite right.

I know that if I were to get around to losing my virginity, I would not expect the chosen one to attempt to make a run for the hills.

I suppose 'giving head' is also out of the question for a Rhino which is a bit sad really as you have a natural dildo superglued to the end of your nose.

Powdered Rhino horn is also one of most powerful aphrodisiacs known. Nature can be cruel - a horny nose you can't do a thing with and a dick that turns into a party mushroom.

I'll stick to being a Goth I think.

The Evil That Men Do

I know, it's ripped from an Iron Maiden track but, I feel the need, the need to apologise.

I'm sorry Mariposa - I fucked up, again. So here it is.....

Fear not, for I trust you, with all of my heart
I just hate being without you, if we are apart
I feel so bereft, I'm so blown away
For here in my arms is where you should stay

I searched for so long to find my soul mate
It pulls at my soul that it so aggravates
The one piece to complete my fragile soul
Forever, together, it's my only goal

When tears trickle down my sad Gothic face
It's you that I turn to, only you can replace
The sadness within, the aching that pours
From my soul, I am sorry, I'll always be yours

With a touch you can soothe all my broken fears
So gently, you wash away most of my tears
I should stay so strong and be there for you now
It's hard, but I'll try, always but somehow

Fear not for I trust you, with all of my heart
I just hate being lonely, when we are apart

Lazy Bastard

Yup, can't be fucking arsed to do anything, so here's something I did before... well, earlier... here

Ha Ha - I'm pissed
So I was thinking, well, not really thinking, but I might have been thinking, if I could 'ooh shit the wall moved' - if I was thinking, like....about stuff right, my brain would be working, or would it, or would I just be thinking it was working in a thinking type way and...

EEK

*fallls backwards over the sofa*

Blow Jobs

*Note - wouldn't know, never done it but I'm improvising here*

I would think that a blow job seems like a jolly good idea - from what I've been told by recipients of one, or two. Except for the practicality thing. It was explained to me that it involves putting a man's penis in your mouth and.. well, sucking, not blowing. For Goth's sake - blowing would be plain silly. His face would go red, he would mutter something about god and float off, a bit like a balloon really.

So, why isn't it called a Suck Job? If aliens landed on this planet and the first ones to greet them were men, and then the men asked for a blow job and the aliens did, the men would be pretty pissed off when it didn't happen quite as they thought. Or, maybe, thought has nothing to do with blow jobs at all.

I have been offered 'blow jobs' on countless occassions but always declined saying "Nope, that's some shit you can keep right there". I mean, what idiot would put his precious in a hole full of sharp teeth that could bite it off???

But, apparently, it's really popular. Why? I don't know - perhaps it's the risk factor.

And then, apparently, there is this argument about 'spit or swallow'? What's that about? - we were making balloons you silly person.

This is probably why I became a lesbian in the first place - licking pussy, now that's something I do know.

*Nice cat - come here....no, a little closer 'hofdisafbhdhf'*

OOOOO Balloons :-)

Another Shit Plan, Perfectly Executed

It's a phrase I developed due to certain things that Mariposa managed to do but, as I have done far many more, it is only fair to illustrate the phrase with one of mine.

I'd been to a house party at a friends house who lived about 2 miles away. Copious amounts of Jack Daniels had been drunk, I had obviously accidentally 'passive smoked' some marijuana as I obviously wouldn't do that myself, but I do remember feeling slightly giggly for no apparent reason.

Time to go - I said my farewells and I left, feeling quite happy and ok, into the fresh air and OH SHIT - suddenly, I can't stand up. I grabbed for the nearest wall and hung on for dear life. After a while I decided that if I held onto the wall all the way home I would be ok. So, that's what I did. "Thanks for this Mr Wall" I mumbled to my new best friend "And I thought Pink Floyd were very harsh on you".

After some time, the urge overcame me - I needed a cigarette. However, to light this I needed to let go of the wall. Bad mistake. As soon as I did, lateral gravity took hold of me and I plunged sideways, cigarette in mouth, into the road landing on my side. There was a screech of tyres as a car came screaming to a halt inches from me. I looked to see what sort of car it was and muttered a silent 'Oh Fuck'.

The policewoman got out of the police car and asked if I was ok - "S'pose so" I mumbled. "What were you doing?" she asked. "Trying to light this" I burbled, holding up a decidely trashed cigarette. Then the conversation went severely downhill :-

PC ->"Where do you live?"
S ->"Not telling"
PC ->"Why not?"
S ->"Don't wanna"
PC ->"Right, get in the car"
S ->"It's no use trying to bribe me"
I relented eventually and told her..
PC ->"What are you going this way for?"
S ->"I have completely no fucking idea"

Apparently, I'd already walked a mile in the completely wrong direction. She put me in the car, took me home and waited patiently while I tried every trick I knew to get the key into the keyhole. As I lived alone, I couldn't just lean on the doorbell and wait, so benevolent PC Woman had to wait. Eventually, via the law of averages, I managed to open the door. I held onto the doorjamb and leant slightly backwards to give her the thumbs up.

I went straight to bed and crashed out. Now, the thing with long hair is it holds smells - big time. The following morning I woke up and my bedroom smelt like a thousand hippies had been there.

Poor PC Woman I thought, she must have returned the car at the end of her shift and been drug-tested. It must have bloody reeked of hash.

Oh well, another shit plan, perfectly executed.

*and yours are????*

A Viking Funeral

Yet, another sterling example of the totally whacko ideas that my mind can come up with after a few drinks. They always seem quite brilliant at the time, and can often be so funny they can reduce grown people to tears (not always of joy admittedly).

Following on from my post on Big Blogger 2007, here is the tale of the demise and funeral of my pet rabbit, Tufty.

So, one morning, I went out to feed the rabbit and find that to be a quite pointless task. He is no more, an ex-rabbit or put more simply he is dead. I decided to postpone the disposal of the body as I had prior arrangements to meet some friends for a drink or seven. Fortunately, the town where I was living was quite small but, for some bizarre reason had eleven pubs. Plenty for a comfortable pub crawl.

I met with the guys at the arranged first, and having been greeted by the usual "Alright S" was then asked why I was looking so glum. I explained about the rabbit and they listened in silence. One of the guys, who is nearly as mental as I am then stunned everyone, especially the little old dears, who were eating their lunch, by standing up on the table and shouting at the top of his voice - "ALRIGHT EVERYONE - SHUT THE FUCK UP" - a silence fell across the pub and everyone turned to see what the commotion was.

"A toast to Tufty - the greatest rabbit to have lived !!".

Madness like this is easy to get caught up in so we all stood and chorused "TO TUFTY" and clinked our glasses together. The rest of the lunchtime was spent discussing ways to give Tufty a fitting send off. They ranged from the lunatic, tying him to a large firework, to the pitifully boring little burial. I dismissed them all, he was still my rabbit in memory and it had to be fitting.

Several pints later I had a brainwave. "I know" I said "It needs to be a Viking funeral". I then had to explain the process of building a funeral pyre and setting it to sea, sending a warrior to Valhalla. There is a river that runs through the centre of town and that would suffice as a pathway to Bunnyhalla. There was silence as the guys paused to register this which was eventually broken by "That is fucking brilliant".

It started to get more complex because as we moved from pub to pub, the tale of the Viking Funeral was getting there before us. More and more people came up and wanted to know what time would it be, what should they bring etc. As more and more drinks flowed, my plan became more elaborate. I would need some people to light candles on either side of the river to guide the way. It would have to be at midnight, I would have to be on my own to launch him.

After closing time I went home thinking everyone would have forgotten about this. Nope. 11.45 pm and there's a knock on my door. "S, you're not gonna believe this but there's about 50 people there already" - "Oh Fuck" I replied. I hastily went outside and fashioned a raft from the now useless hutch, grabbed a can of petrol and placing Tufty's by now, stiff little body on the raft walked to the river. As I looked downstream I could see the candles lining the bank and people milling about on the bridge.

Too late to back out now I thought. I doused petrol on the raft, a little too much I know but this was not something I'd rehearsed. Placed the raft on the river and quickly threw a lit match on it. There was a large WOOF and flames shot about 5 foot high. However, Tufty began his journey down the river to Bunnyhalla, flanked by people raising cans of beer and toasting as he went by.

I'd like to think he's now kicking ass in Bunnyhalla having been imbued with the spirits of the Gods.

Part VI - The Goth Strikes Back

A long time ago, in a Schuman area, the evil Dark Lord JJ Invader went spinning off down the staircase in the Hairyverse but now he has regrouped and a fleet of Shite Girls are poised to destroy the Goth Planet where the rebels are holed up.

However, the Goth rebellion have been busy preparing for the coming invasion and are quite ready for what the nasty, evil empire of Scary Shite, Sporty Shite and the other Shite Troopers can throw at them.

Look Gothwalker is busy out on patrol on the icy planet of Bruxelles but Princess LayWho is worried that Gothwalker has not returned from patrol and it's getting late now.

Soon the doors of the Metro will have to be closed and Look will be all alone with no way of returning and the Princess knows that JJ Invader is patrolling the area.

She turns to Hung So-low and pleads with him not to take his money and disappear with Chewbaccy in a puff of smoke. "Please go and find Look" she says. "Oh for fucks sake" says Hung and tells Chewy to stay put whilst he goes off searching into the cold night air. He knows he has to find Look before the cold kills him or the evil dark one takes his ultimate revenge. She knows that JJ Invader didn't like being made to look a complete twat and is after his revenge.

Meanwhile, the dark lord is busy hissing like a big girls blouse and wittering some bullshit about having found the Goth Planet. "The rebels have no idea that we're coming" he burbles into the camera but he's about as subtle as an elephant sliding on it's arse down an icy ski slope.

Back on Goth Planet, Hung So-Low has found Look looking slightly tired but still alive. He uses Looks trusty light sabre to hail a cab and they return to the rebel base in time to fight off the horrid Shite Troopers in a dazzling array of fireworks not seen since the last time there was a firework display.

Look Gothwalker then explains that he has to return to see some puppet who's hard as fuck, to complete his training and become a true Giddy Master. Only then can he face the ultimate battle with the evil Dark one. The last time they met, JJ Invader had burbled some nonsense "Look, Look - I am your father" but Look hadn't believed him. "Just because you're a grey haired old twat who looks 500 years older doesn't make you my superior" Look had replied before running away to regroup.

The Princess looks sad, mainly because she has a croissant on each side of her head but she know Look has to follow his destiny. "May the force be with you" Look says before kissing the Princess tenderly. "Gaaararrggghh" says Chewbaccy and Hung So-low justs pats Look on the shoulder and says "Go get them kid".

Meanwhile, deep in space, the evil JJ Invader hisses "Curses Batman....oh shit, wrong film" and shakes his fist in an evil, shit coffee bean advert way (that could be interpreted as the same action as someone masturbating). He flounces off in a gay, but misunderstood way.

Look takes off and looks forward to meeting the small puppet who will help him complete his training to become Giddy. He doesn't know what his destiny is but he knows it is not to listen to the complete bollocks being warbled by the Shite Girls, or the evil, mental meanderings of the Dark Lord JJ Invader.

to be continued.....

Piss Off You Freaks

So, the list of WEIRDO searches continues as they keep landing in Goth World. I don't know if I should be flatterred or pick up a baseball bat and just whack the fuckers.

Thankyou Sitemeter for telling me that these peeps found their way here.....

The last 5 Searches that found Goth World

• collective noun for turd
• freaks and twats
• gothic tits
• dwarves on trampolines
• jesus the pothead?

OR, perhaps I'm just so popular thanks to NOT being thrown out of THAT house????

Buggery bollocks with chuffing scratchy bits (just trying to throw the search engines off a bit)

The Top Ten Shit Songs Ever

Having just had to listen to the most awful Portuguese butchering of some classic songs, I started thinking. Well, actually, it was so shit that it nearly sobered me up.

Bastardos !!

So, there I was, wondering.... what are the most shit songs, in the world, ever? (that have been hits)

Here is a list, off the top of my head but, come on, you can add to it I'm sure..... (they have to have been in the UK twat parade at some point).

Mistletoe and Wine - Cliff Richard
Two Little Boys - Rolf Harris
Shaddup Your Face - Joe Dolce
The Birdie Song - The Tweets
Agadoo - Black Lace
The Frog Chorus - Paul McCartney
Save Your Love - Renee & Renato
Achey Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus
Wannabe - Spice Girls
The Cheeky Song - The Cheeky Girls

Come on, I think you can do better I'm sure, so get writing. Which song really pisses you off?

*very sad and on way to the airport, Goth*

I Don't Like The Drugs

But the druggies like me. I'm not sure why - I guess it's something to do with my appearance. They make assumptions, which I hasten to add, are way off the mark, one being, that I am a habitual drug user. I am in the sense that I smoke a lot - but purely Marlboro Lights. I drink a lot of alcohol but generally stay in control of my actions. Granted some of them are blatantly fucking stupid at times, but at those times they seem funny to me.

Wherever I go though, I am constantly being offered or asked for drugs. Walking through Lisbon I got offered cocaine 4 times in a 5 minute period. Every day the weirdos seek me out like I'm a freak-magnet. I could understand it if I looked like Bob Marley but I don't. I suppose if I looked at it in a positive way I must have the appearance of a rock star. Not sure about that but I did say positive...

Any gig I go to, it becomes a game of 'chase me, chase me' as I try to avoid the purveyors of narcotics. After a while I become bored and just switch on my Gothic Cloaking device, which emits such an aura of menace that no-one dares approach me (even the police) - which is very handy.

The fact that I don't like drugs is a personal choice - if you want to do drugs, that's your funeral. And I've been to quite a few drug-induced funerals.

There used to be an anti-drugs campaign in the UK titled 'Just Say No' - well I have a better version for when people approach me offering "Drugs?" - Just Say, "Fuck Off !".

It's all rather amusing given the number of years I have worked for some of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world. I don't like their drugs either but the money comes in very handy.

Nope, for me I prefer my Jack Daniels and beer. They enable me to come up with brilliant master plans that in the light of day, or soberness can be seen to be what they truly are, mad as a bag of frogs - but that's another story.

Crucify a Nun Day

Yes. It's my new campaign. Crucify a nun and make the world a better place. I have decided to act against the evil penguins for a number of reasons - I would point out that not all nuns are bad but the gobshite ones do need correcting

1) Telling young ones that a sibling died for doing wrong and thus punished by god is sheer evil !!

2) Celibacy is ok if that's what you want but shagging candles still counts as penetration.

3) Wearing stupid outfits is also ok, but not every fucking day. And who the fuck called it a winpole?

4) Devoting 40 years to reading the bible is idiotic. If you can't read that fast stick to Winnie the Pooh (with pictures).

5) Religion is a personal choice not something you beat into vulnerable people.

6) Berating young women for getting pregnant outside of wedlock is not big and not clever. I very much doubt they intended it to happen. Shit just happens sometimes.

7) Just because you have decided that life sucks does not give you the divine right to correct everyone elses.

So, my campaign begins. I intend to have Nun-Bars installed on the front of my 4x4 which will have really big spikes on them. I will then be touring round any religious buildings creating my own Nun-Kebab. I shall also be touring round in a Witchfinder General fashion creating bonfires on my way. Kind of like a Spanish Inquisition but with more purpose.

If you have any more tales about evil penguins, sorry, nuns, please feel free to share. The more ammunition I have before the god squad arrive, the better chance I have of inserting the crucifix of death before they notice.

SHAZAM

Another one bites the dust.

Any complaints about this material can be directed to the complaints department which is...oh dear, it's closed. Never mind eh?

Goth Goes to Church

Yes, you read it right - the Goth went to church. Not to confess his sins and not to burn it down. He did so as it was a family occassion where the beautiful little one was taking first communion. Now obviously, I'm not exactly a fan of churches or religion in general (as you may have gathered) but, it was not about me.

So after a reasonably stress free flight - welcome to Lisbon, Portugal. That's where you have to be for one of these events - if you want it all in Portuguese. Not sure it makes a whole lot of difference as I have no intention of listening to a priest in the first place but, I'm nice - if I want to be.

Thus we all bundle into the very old church and take our seats. "Do you want me to translate?" asks mummy bear. "Not worth the effort" I reply "But you can point out when the pope appears on that little balcony. I know he likes to feed pigeons - I've seen it on TV".

Before the priest bloke can say a word, Mary, Mungo and Midge start playing. One acoustic guitar, 5 singers all with microphones and not one of them seems to know 'Smoke on the Water' - tossers. Anyway, the entire congregation stand up. Why? I don't bloody know but when they finish everyone sits down again. The priest starts burbling on about something that probably includes jesus and heaven and trees - Boof - we all have to stand up again.

For over half an hour, this religious exercise class with crap music continues. It's like being stuck in a cage with psychotic meerkats. Up, down, up, down. The little old dear next to me has clearly lost the plot and doesn't know if she's supposed to be up, down or upside down so she just gives up and kneels in a praying type fashion.

'You and me both' I think, praying this music will end. But it doesn't. The priest wants a drink so out comes his special chalice. It's almost a 'You have a sip, I'll have a sip' thing - except that he's gulping - big time. Meanwhile, a few rows ahead of me, a small child is trying to ensure his toy caterpillar has a proper view of what's going on. Which is nice but, he obviously has no concept of gravity yet and so the caterpillar keeps twatting the person in front of him as it fails again to become erect.

I'd have laughed out loud but that would be unseemly and so I was busy concentrating on being good when they sprung the big surprise on me. Not content with being meerkats on acid, the final part is that they want to have a group hug - the whole bloody church. You have got to be kidding me. Oh no - they are serious about it !!!

I got outside, took out a cigarette and waited to be struck by lightning. Didn't happen and so I had to ask for a light.

However, all in all, I had a wonderful day, with lovely people and really enjoyed it. Mariposa was/is happy so that is cool also. Most importantly, the angel for whose day we had gathered appeared really happy.

Religious aerobics though? - that is some shit you can keep.....

Airport Security

Inspiration courtesy of the Bromman - top bloke and Welsh too, innit....

(OOOO, it's a no swearing day !)

Airport security sucks!. Well, that's not entirely true. I know it's great and stops idiots from setting fire to planes and doing stupid things but, it's such a pain in the 'bit you sit down on'.

As I have to fly so much, for that crazy little thing called work, I'm used to putting up with the aggravation, but for blooming crikey's sake . Take your rings off, belt, shoes etc just to pass through the security check.

"Is that a laptop Sir?" - "No, it's a football"

"It doesn't look like a football" - "Hmm, doesn't bounce either"

"Can you turn it on Sir?" - "I could have, but then you FIXED it"

"I have to search you Sir" - "Why? and, stop tickling me"

"Are you nervous Sir?" - "No, just stop tickling me !!".

"Are you carrying any drugs?" - "Why? Have you run out?"

"Do you have any sharp items?" - "Apart from my wit? - oh yes, two wits, one woo - I'm an owl - see"

"I'm sorry Sir, you can't take that through" - "But I could buy the same thing over there, I did last week"

"Do you have any items of contraband?" - "No but I guess you have some really funky stuff in that cupboard"

"Ok Sir, have a nice day" - "I will do NOW"

*laughs heartily as he looks back at the queue of muppets without an ounce of deodorant between them*

The Truck Incident

I was about 8 years old I suppose, my little brother 5 years old when the 'Truck Incident' occurred. Father Christmas had read my letter and delivered a 'Tonka' truck (a small metal replica of a dumper truck) that year and I had spent months playing with it. By summer, it had lost it's appeal for me and so, finally, my little brother was allowed to play with it. Off he went with his "Brrrrrring, beep beep beep" sounds and we were both happy.

So, one particularly fine day, I was lying on a neighbours lawn, contemplating the sky and wondering what the few clouds in the sky might represent - hmm, was that a dragon? or maybe a castle in the sky...

THWACK

"Ouch" I shouted, rather loudly and attempted to jump up and attack my assailant. Unfortunately, the blow to my head had been rather harder than I realised and upon standing I immediately sat back down like a pissed giraffe. Meanwhile, my little brother, the propulsion behind the metallic toy, had seen the blood, was ready to get his arse kicked but now, seeing blood and his older brother falling around, panicked. He ran home screaming as I attempted to follow in a wobbly fashion.

He got there first and ran in through the door screaming "Mum, Mum, S has been hit by a truck !!". This obviously caused our mother some alarm and she started to panic.

As he had run to the back door, I had staggerred to the front door. Finding no answer but leaving a none too healthy pool of blood on the doorstep I figured that I had to go around to the back.

Thus began the Tango of Confusion. I wobbled around to the back, my mother came through to the front having been informed that her son had been hit by a truck, and almost had a heart attack on seeing the pool of blood on the doorstep. I meanwhile had deposited another puddle of blood on the back doorstep and had set off bravely (holding onto the wall) back to the front. She ran back into the house and called the police, ambulance and probably goth rescue brigades.

Soon enough, I was on my way to hospital, stiched, fixed and wrapped in a loving mothers arms.

Moral of the story? - there is none...it just happened.

Nasty Underwear

So this is a thought, only a small Gothic thought, but one that needs addressing I think.

Fucking pants.

Well, not literally but, in a kind of, 'woops there go me knickers vicar' sort of way. Bridget Jones had big ones, Tippler is going commando in the Big Blogger house and, I do so worry about the repair costs for Mr Farty. However, my question is this.... *pauses*

(perhaps I'd better set the scene so you can prepare your answer correctly)

You meet a partner, they seem perfect - amazing what a few drinks will do - and so you decide to get naked and lovely. You start to undress your perfect partner and all is going splendidly when....

SHAZAM

It's the underwear moment. The make love or make a run for the door moment.

What tickles your fancy? Or makes you run for the hills, screaming 'Fucking Hell - NOOOOOOOOO'?

As I Cry

As I cry in the shadows, your memory remains
As I fall through darkness, I always retain
The love that you give me, so pure and true
The reason for living, it's why I love you

With a word you could shatter, my fragile heart
With one slip of my tongue I could make you depart
From your delicate path and curse me I'm sure
From my soul, fallen, waiting forever, I'm sure

Any wish that I had, I would give it to you
Any dream, for all time, for you could stay true
Mariposa, I love you with all of my soul
I love you my dear, you make me whole

S

So, You're a TV Producer?

Assuming that you had shit loads of money, probably little talent, but an incredible notion for what the public would like..... you come up with an idea for a TV show. Not just a one-off though, a whole series of the same. Come on ladies, gentlemen and the others - pitch it to me. Tell me why your TV show should work.

You've got a lot of leeway on this. Think about the competition. Just think of some of the incredibly shit ideas that already made it onto TV.

• Well, it's like on a beach right, and it's about lifeguards, and they save peoples lives - aw fuck it, just think of the tits bouncing up and down in slow motion
• So there's this team like, and they're on the run but always help people by building tanks from, any shit that's hanging around and, yeah, I love it when a plan comes together
• The dude can time travel, in a box, but then these upside down cans with weird erections chase him, except they can't go upstairs, cos they don't have legs, but they're really scary, oh and he has a scarf, cos you always need one of those right?
• Ok, we have an animal park and we just turn the cameras on and then the animals do things, like living, or perhaps dying - but that's the beauty see, you never know what might happen, apart from when they sleep - ooooh, just thought, they might snore or anything
• It's all about a street where people live, but they're never happy and things happen like, well I dunno, stuff, but then, well....., some other stuff happens and they make a cup of tea, and swear cos everyone swears when they make tea right?
• Picture the scene, there's a boat, and, well it floats and stuff, in a dreamy way, and then people come together and fall in love, cos you would if you were on a boat, unless you saw an iceberg and then you'd think, well why didn't that fucker at the front warn us?

Come on, you can do better than this - pitch it to me

(and no smart arse should mention anything about being locked in a house thankyou)

STIB Suck Shit

I'm not a campaigning type person - let's face it, the shit doesn't work. Or does it? Jesus got nailed to a tree 2,000 years ago and his message still pervades. So, anyway, there are some trees in Bruxelles, and SHIT, sorry STIB, the transport company, want to chop them down.

OK, let's look at the logic here. You have new trams that are a bit wider (already a bit worrying) - are these mother-fuckers going to turn up on time? No, didn't think so.

Are they going to use the same tracks? Yes. Hmmm, thought so, but you need more space so let's chop down some trees. You ignorant mother fuckers - you'll campaign against rain forests being depleted but, it's ok to chop down some trees....

Now, I'm not going to chain myself to a tree just to prove a point - I don't have the boobies to get away with that sort of behaviour. However, some friends of mine did, and they have boobies and so you should go here to see, and no they're not naked tits:-

Honey
Aunty M
Suki

and view free tits and trees type stuff.

or here, and make a difference against the evil STIB

Oh, and for you loyal readers in Goth World, no I haven't gone mad. It's a chance to fuck up a corporation like STIB (no link as the fuckers wouldn't be there anyway). Hooray!!

New versions of STIB include:-

Suck Tits I'm Bollocksed
Such Tossers In Black
Smoke That It's Black

Suggest your own but, after you've gone to one of the aforementioned links to fuck a corporation, up the arse - backwards, with a fifty foot Oak.

Oooops, have to go back up the tunnel to the house thingy.. - don't tell them I have a dead clever way in and out, and it's not through the diary room, please.

And tell Geldof he may need to get on the phone quicker....

ps T-Meister - told you I'd do it my way ;-)