Blurry-eye?

Have you heard? Blur have reformed!!! YESSSS!!!!!!!

Some people think it's the best news since Hole In The Wall was first aired, others think it's a right load of guff. But which camp are you in? Take my new test to find out...

When you heard Blur were back together did you...
a) Punch the air, then your boss, shout "This is NOT a low!" and run home with damp trousers?
b) Whip yourself with a kettle flex as tears of guilt ran down you cheeks?
c) Ban your son from leaving the house so that his fat, pikey mate won't upset him again?
d) Vomit?
e) Nearly smile?


If you answered...
a> You like Blur, which is good because you are now jobless, not for the boss-punching but the terrible smart-arse pun. You're also covered in piss!
b> You'd never admit it but you like Blur too. You're like a monk who saw Kerry Katona on Heat accidentally and got a semi chunk-on. Or you're Noel Gallagher.
c> You're Graham Coxon's mother.
d> You're hung over and no news could keep that sausage sarnie down. How you feel about Blur is now staring at you from the stained carpet, you wretched creature.
e> You're Dave Rowntree (oh c'mon! The guy in Blur? The drummer? Always miserable? HE SITS AT THE BACK)

One For The London Partiers

Remember when Hoxton Bar & Grill was a solid night out? Well it's not anymore. Not on a Saturday at least.

Myself and three friends went this week, see. We (me, Egg Face, Walter and The Duke) queued up for an age, noticing that the bouncers were timing when to let in the next dozen people - "It's only been 9 minutes," says Meat For Brains 2 to Steroid Tits 1 as he counts down that crucial last 60 seconds. But the real joke was inside, at Sausage Fest 2009!

I don't care that there were few girls there (I'm taken), but what irked was the fact that dancing to the fucking awful DJ, still mixing Fat Man Scoop with 'Jump Around' (SERIOUSLY!), were the most retched lasses I've seen since putting up with shitholes in Southend. The lads we're all agro-seekers from nearby office jobs, chasing skirt and STIs from the present rancid girls. Intimidating, vile and soundtracked by the worst music this side of DJ Luck & MC Neat. Avoid like a frenchie from Amy Whiiiinehouse!

Tardiness

Sorry I've been so tardy recently chucks. All sorts of stuff has been going on.

Truth be told, Rod and I had a little of a falling out (which his missus, Penny, joked was 'just like his weave'- we laughed) about this whole "I've-reformed-The-Faces-but-will-not-be-asking-you-to-play-instead-of-Ronnie-the-crow" thing. We've sorted it all out now, after Rod bought my friendship back... like he does. I love my new tennis court, even if I do still believe that Ronnie is a traitor for joining The Stones.

Good to see Rod in NME last week too, and about bloody time. For some reason he wasn't the cover star, which was odd, but he's still framed the article next to cuttings from Select, Mojo and Short Stop (a Dutch mag for the vertically challenged gent).

Promise to write again soon, now that I'm sleeping at night again.