RIP Michael Jackson

How can a man who can do this be anything but class? And don't say "by touching kids!"

Oh Piers OFF!

Piers Morgan - a man famed for building up gutter celebs to knock em down and fumble his pecker at the thought - has said that he blames the press for big Susie Boyle's breakdown, or whatever you want to call losing Britain's Got Talent.

In other news, Michael Jackson has said that Cher's plastic surgery "makes her look unnatural", Jordan has commented on fake breasts by saying "people who get them are wankers", and Noel Edmunds has lashed out at Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, branding it "a game of complete chance".

Think you get what I'm saying here... Piers Morgan is prick!

Alton (golden) Showers!

Hey Losers, ever been to Alton Towers? My and Rod went today and it was the cat's pajamas!

Sure, everyone in there seems to be sponsored by Gio-Goi, and yeah, if you're not wearing a tracksuit you're considered gayer than a window, but wait til you see the rides.

After browning my kecks on Oblivion (it travels at 40MPH, people!) I washed them of in the Log Flume, which had specially heated water so us thrill seekers weren't too cold if we got wet. NICE!

You can stick your Blob up your arse!

So I just saw on the front of some cack paper - probably The Sun - that Robbie Williams now wants in on the Take That reunion. There it was on page 1 of the rage, Blobbie's fat, bloated coke face saying "I'm Ready!"

I bet you fucking are you lardy bastard. Gary Barlow's done wonders turning that band around without your fat arse mooning from the tour bus. And do you think he'd have managed that with you in the group still? WOULD HE FUCK!

No one likes a beg-friend Robert, just asked Jonathan Wilkes.

Know your NME

Hands up, who popped dog dirt in my mouth while I slept? Only joking, that was me of course, but I think the rank taste is due to the boss time I had at the NME Awards last night.

This is how the evening broke down for me...

6.30pm - Arrived at Brixton Academy to find out that Nandos hadn't shown with the grub for us guests.
6:35pm - Eat wedges from local poor-man's KFC.
7:00pm - Two of Girls Aloud turn up - the hot ginger one and the really rude looker.
7:13pm - News breaks that Jay-Z has heard about the Nandos fiasco and is now refusing to show.
7:30pm - Muse turn up and have shrunk 5 inches since last year.
8:00pm - A man comes on stage and says, "The Awards are going to start now. It's going to be on telly so whatever you do don't bring your cans of Red Stripe to the podium because offcom will have my balls in a vice."
8:03pm - NME editor Conor McNicholas introduces the awards with a can of RED STRIPE on the podium.
8:04 - 10:00pm - All sorts of people win awards. Dizzee Rascal jumps in the crowd to escape the terrible presenter, Glasvegas embarrass themselves by covering Elivs badly, with a man called Florence Machine.
10:01pm - A man dressed as a badger wins the final Godlike Genius award and plays with his band.
10:17pm - With the badger singing about "loving Fridays", Sarah Harding form Girls Aloud dabs what appears to be sherbert on her lips and gums. She is happy.

.. and so am I as another classic NME Awards draws to a close.

Crystal Arseholes

You'll not believe this guys, but you know that band Crystal Castles? Yeah y'do, they're that boy/girl duo from Canada. The fella's 38 but swears he's 25 so it doesn't look like his a total pedophile when he's sleazing all over his band mate, Alice. No? Okay, well it's not important because, having sold 5 copies of their album, they'll not be around long I'm sure.

The story goes that the mag I work for, Loud And Quiet, kindly gave them a cover feature, thinking they were great. The band then kicked up a fuss because they didn't like the photo L&Q were intending to use, which the band willingly posed for. Having seen the photo posted on Andrew Kendall's (the photographer) website the day after the shoot, the band hounded Andrew rudely stating that "it was a terrible picture". Loud And quiet ran it anyway, sticking to their guns, prompting the band to email the editor threatening legal action, while pretending to be their manager (very mature).

Recently the band started complaining again because promoters have been using the picture to advertise CC gigs, even though - gasp - "the band really hate that picture". They've just blocked the mag from their myspace page (again, mature, old man, very mature) and so here's the picture. Please use it everywhere you can, and simply credit the brilliant photographer Andrew Kendall. And if you want the high res to print posters or big fuck-off posters, please contact the snapper at www.andrewkendall.com. It's a pretty great picture I think, and surely the band don't have a problem with it because of Ethan's rad T-shirt, although his Ghost Busters one must have be in the wash that day, which I'm sure was a bitter pill for him to swallow, the cunt!

Coke Is A Joke... and sometimes nice?

So Lily Allen has been attacked in the press for glorifying drugs or something...

Well, if you ask me, what she said in a recent interview with The Word magazine is completely true and we should all stop being naive little bed-wetters.

Lily said: "The only [newspaper] story is that drugs are bad and they will kill you - I know lots of people that take cocaine three nights a week and get up and go to work every day, no problem. But we never hear that side of the story."

And, sorry Dail Mail readers, it's completely true. Cocaine makes you nob-head, won't do anything for the size of your junk and causes all sorts of health and money problems. And yet it's used by a lot of people A LOT of the time who lead functional lives, get bored and stop their silly drug phase.

And another thing, girls do poos too!

Chirstmas TV

That was it, was it? Christmas, gone for another year?

Did you have a good time, cos I bloody didn't. I mean, how guff was the telly this year? Bar Bruce Forsyth mincing around on a re-run of a 70s Generation Game, saying "Alright my love?" it really was shit, wasn't it?!

If you've not got a telly, firstly you really are a pikey bastard cos they're cheaper than a standard Pay As You Go Phone these days, or two nights with Jodie Marsh (doctor's bill not included), but that's your business. Here's what you missed...

Wallace And Gromit: Another Shit Tale - Annoyingly they cut the scene when the bald fella spreads Dairylea on his nob and shouts "Dinner Time!" at the poor hairy one... AGAIN!

Morcombe & Wise: Christmas Special - No, I'd not seen it before either, but it's apparently really old, they just never show it on TV. It was really pants.

Dads Army: Who Do You Think You're Kidding? - The clue was in the title of this one.

Hang on, if you've not got a TV, what's with the computer???

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.

Evil Slime-man

Just been reading this month's OMM,which is usually a cracking little read. But, namely for one reason, this latest issue smells like a rotting shit.

If you've bothered leafing through the new mag you'll no doubt have read a feature by Eva Wiseman on the NME, whereby she spent a week in the silly mag's office. Now, we all like an NME-bash every now and then but Wiseman is clearly a slimy witch. She makes sly digs at Editor Conor Mcnicholas, his staff - whom a not young Eva is clearly jealous of - and the NME building (yeah, what a desperate hag, aye?).

Most annoyingly, Evil Slime-man fails to mention how she was a freelance writer for the magazine for a good number of years. So, Eva, do you sound jealous and bitter? YES! Was a job that was meant to be yours given to someone with a haircut that matched their age? PROBABLY! But most importantly, does you spending a week at NME mean that the mag (grotty in their policies or not) is still relevant (something that Slime-man seems to be investigating)? Clearly.

And your relations with one of Vincent Vincent And The Villains (a band that NME rightly can't stand) is probably something you should keep shtum about also.

Chinese Democrappy

As ginger turd Axl Rose finally announces the track listing for 'Chinese Democrappy', you've got to ask yourself, "Am I more or less bothered about this than the size of Kate Nash's last poo?" The answer: less. And, for the record, I didn't care much that Nash stunk out my loo when she popped in the other day.

Rod (Stewart - my BEST friend) says, "I met Axl Rose once. He spat on me, shouting, 'I hate you, you fishy bastard!'." I say, Axl, you punk, you're just jealous because Rod is two foot taller than you. Anyway, if you care at all, here's the track listing.

1. Slash Has Left (pt 1)
2. Cornrow Dreams
3. I Am Alone
4. Bucket Head?
5. Orange IS A Good Colour
6. Slash On My Face (I Wish He Was)
7. Sweet Child O Mine
8. Chinese Democrappy
9. Feet Of A Troll
10. Slash Has Left (pt 2)
11. Cod Stewart
12. R Kelly's Alright By Me
13. Cornrow Nightmares (I'll Kill That Pigeon)
14. Never Trust A Top-Hatted Man

RinGO AWAY!

You've gotta love Ringo Starr. The stoned Beatle has only gone and told his fans that he'll not be signing any fan mail or objects ever again. On his site he's says...

“I’m warning you with peace and love I have too much to do. So no more fan mail. Thank you, thank you. And no objects to be signed. Nothing.”

Fair play I say, especially as poor Ringo's been scribbling on everything from photos to under-shanks of old bints since 1963. Poor sod.

In other news, The Pigeon Detectives are still offering £5 per fan letter they receive. "We've spent 25 quid so far," said the one with a cock nose. "That's like... errr... errr... 3... no, 3... no it is 3... errr... loads of fans." Oh, and Ringo is still making toast. LOOK HERE

Razorlight are THE shit!

I was feeling a bit "boo hoo" about my summer holiday ending (been in Barcelona last week, which is well boss!) but then Rod came home with the new Razorlight album.

He's a bit mardy cos it shits on The Faces (oops, pardon!) and is literally the best thing I've ever heard. SERIOUSLY! ITS EVEN BETTER THAN 'MAGGIE MAY'. Sure, Johnny Borrell has clearly lost his mind, producing an album of soft rock stadium shmultz, but lyrically it's out of this world.

Ricky Wilson, you fat turd, you can keep your "what do you want for tea? I want crisps" gash. We've got Razorlight back now. There's one track on here called 'North London Trash', on which dear old Johnny parps on about the colour of his Converse and his girl "with a hot body". We also learn that Johnny was "raised by a radio in a broken home", which must have been truly shocking at bath time.

Pete Went(z) to the gun cabinet... the prick

I'd never buy Playboy, of course. Degrading is all that naked flesh, blonde hair and poons. But I've just heard that a massive nipple is in this month's booby mag, talking about how he once played Russian roulette.

Pete Wentz (the old one from Fall Out Boy who still sings about the prom but actually sacked off second grade just before his 38th birthday - the quitter) told Playboy, “I pulled a trigger on a gun aimed at myself. My friend and I did one pull each. We’d been drinking and had taken Ambien. I feel stupid even talking about it. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never owned a gun - I’m too impulsive. I’d probably get mad and shoot someone over a part in a song or something.”

It got me thinking. Firstly, there is clearly no God. Secondly, one pull is not enough Pete, how about a proper game? Maybe with Jay Kay so that we're all winners even if you luck out? Thirdly, can this story hold water seeing as Pete has made up that he has a friend? And finally, Pete, your birthday present is in the post. It's something you've never owned before, which'll be nice for you. Oh, and the round one from Kaiser Chiefs said a part of your song was "gash", or something.

There Was A Light, and it just went out!

So Johnny Marr has joined The Cribs. Not, contributed to a song. Not appeared on stage with them. Not said, "The Cribs? Yeah, they're alright". JOINED them!

As a result, if anyone would like any of my Smiths records, or my ears to prevent me from accidentally hearing a Cribs/Marr monstrosity and time soon, bring a van and/or some garden shears around.

Agony Wolf No 1: Dicknose!

Dear Party Wolf,

I'm one confused ginger singer of a famous (and brilliant) band. I've always said "I want to fall from the stars" but the other night I found myself falling with and on a star.

After my weekly trip to the fairground I was partying hard at China White (money's not too tight to mention for my rich booty, HA!). It was there I saw Slipknot's Dick Nose - real name Jodie - dancing away. I danced with her cos I'm really geez and thought I'd pull her. But then something bad happened. Dick Nose slipped over on my dribble (I do that), I went to help her up, and the next thing I know I've fallen seat first onto her schnoz. The thing is, I liked it. Does this make me a fruit?

Yours, Anon (Mick Hucknall)

PW say... No Mick, it does not make you 'a fruit'. But it does make you a raging gay, not least because Jodie is a man.

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!