Star Bores No. 1

Yep, I'm delving into the world of astronomy. And why not?

First up, here's what the stratosphere is telling me to pass on to all you Cancer the craps. Snip snip!



At a time when your world seems to be tipping on its head, why not take some time out Cancer, you crab? If the world's putting its feet up this week, why can't you? Sure, you're a crustacean who walks sideways but we all need a break, so practice what you preach and enjoy some me time. Oh, and a meeting in a town centre will prove interesting in you lovelife, if you're not stood up outside Argos again, you tosser!

Be your own pest

Reading is kicking off!

It looked liked Be Your Own Pet had let a special needs kids play bass for them, but it was actually they're real bassist, just mega pissed up. He split his head open and spat EVERYWHERE!

Then, Rod (Stewart - my BFF) pissed himself laughing, for real. It all ran out of his kilt. Penny was mad!

Like I say, KICKING OFF!

Raging against machines!

It's here! Reading Festival: three days of sitting in a dust-bowl of an arena, watching doom cookies melt in heats up to 18 degress! Phew! I'm only doing one day of the festival, having shipped in to watch anti-capitalists Rage Against The Machine play they're 4.5 million quid show - talk about nobbing the man in the arse!

I need to get home before Sunday for sure. That's when all the kids who smell like bum have their way, worship old men who are still in bands and wear Jack Skellington back packs. It's like Camden market has chundered over some of the ones I've seen already.

So today it's all about rage. I'll let you know how it goes. So far I've raged against a coffee machine for spilling a brown stain on my chinos and had stern words with a coke machine which gave me diet instead of full fat, even though I hit the normal coke button.

Wosit coming over the hill? It's Mr Blobby!

Just heard the new Kaiser Chief’s single. It’s called ‘Never Miss A Beat’ and it includes the lines “What do you want for tea? I want crisps” and “It’s cool to know nothing”. So there you have it, damning proof that the Pigeon Detectives are the second biggest shits on the planet!

It's Good To Stalk

This is one for the Londoners really, but if you lucky enough to live elsewhere, let me fill you in...

We have two free evening papers here, so tripe that the homeless won't even use their pages to wipe up they mess the do, often on themselves. This character called Peaches turns up in them all the time. One is called The London Lite and the other is The London Paper, which is owned by Rupert Murdoc from the A-Team. Both really are as bad as each other, which is why I can't remember which has the funniest column in it.

The section I'm talking about is where desperados write into the paper to say they chatted up someone on the tube the previous evening, but didn't manage to seal the deal and get a number - "I was on the Central line at 7 o'clock and wanted to boff you, my secret lady in beige. Meet me by the sex shop in Soho if you're keen," kinda thing.

So, I'm introducing the same brilliant idea on my blog. Just email me a info@loudandquiet.com if you're a sex pest/lonely wanker/Sting who's seen someone out and about and let's see if they're not too weirded out to get in touch. I floated the idea on myspace and got this one back straight away...

"I was the fuzzy-faced short-arse, hanging out with my acne-ridden pal. You were any number of the young girls, drinking in the Uxbridge Weatherspoons, playing on a pub quiz game that looked like a right hoot. If you fancy putting your hand in the box on my lap, meet me in Yates's wine lodge in Leicester Sq to see if you've made the right deal, this Sunday!"

Secret Garden Poopy

Me and Rod have been all over the place recently, hence the lack of blog action.

First up we went off to Secret Garden Party where we saw Grace Jones ruin a perfectly good time by bending over in a thong. It was mucky, almost as much as the child we saw burrying their own business in hay, like some wild fox in a summer dress. "Well done," her mother said. FOR WHAT?!!! Defecating in the wild or burying it where some hippy will sit in 20 minutes time?

It wasn't all vulgar there though. Met a superstar DJ called Prev, his younger brother Chris and their mate Jay-Z. I hope they all remember me cos they were sound, although I swear one of them did a little present in my mouth on the first night.

After all that fun I needed a break so went to my spiritual birthplace, Southend-on-Sea. It's an amazing place where parents are all 9 years old. I hung out... even when I was in the pub, much to the dismay of the landlord who said that having my junk on show was probably not suitable behavior. Square!