Saturday, December 19, 2015

Top Ten of 2015

Word to yo' moms, I come to drop bombs.  Calm down, FBI spybots, I don't mean actual explosives, only YouTube videos of pop songs.

While voguish hipster blogs and newspaper websites will try to convince you in their round-ups that people genuinely listen to that Kendrick Lamar album (a din) and Grimes for pleasure, and tell you that Adele and Justin Beiber are making worthwhile music, your old pal the Colonel will give you the real deal.

Courtney Barnett - Pedestrian at Best
A shouty number from the excellent Antipodean singer-songwriter. The downbeat "Depreston" was also a contender.

Galantis - Peanut Butter Jelly
A summer favourite in all downmarket nite spots. A good video.

Rat Boy - Fake ID
Sweary pop-punk that may well have been devised by a computer generated algorithm to appeal to Steve Lamacq.

Majical Cloudz - Downtown
A fun singalong version of the Petula Clark classic.

Missy Elliott - WTF (Where They From)
Yacka to the yack.

Ezra Furman - Restless Year
Pretty much the best orthodox Jewish crossdresser singer-songwriter around in my book. Then again, my book is called "Ezra Furman is pretty much the best orthodox Jewis crossdresser singer-songwreter around".

Riton - Rinse and Repeat
Dancefloor banger inna de area, and that.

Unloved - Guilty of Love
David Holmes addresses the issues of a scarcity of lost 60s chanteuse classics for him and Tarantino to put in film soundtracks by creating his own.

Jamie XX - Gosh
Soaring loveliness from the uncommunicative knob-twiddler.

Bloc Party - The Love Within
Never had any use for Bloc Party, probably never will again, but the synth sound on this is worth the entrance fee alone.

Have fun with it!

Wednesday, December 02, 2015

Ins and Outs: Christmas 2015

Happy Christmas and that, yeah? Imagine, if you will, a series of statements about a bearded man that could apply equally to Santa Claus and to peace-loving, enemy-of-the-state Jeremy Corbyns. Some self-assembly side-splitting satire there. Send it in to Private Eye or 'The News Huddlines' when you're finished, they might give you a tenner.

To the chase. Want to tell your winter wonderland from your munter from Sunderland? Your Happy Hanukkah from your Erich Honecker, your tinsel decorations from your Isil decapitations?

Well wonder no more, my pretties, 'cos Ins and Outs am here!


Refusing to have any truck with the odious neologism 'selfie', preferring instead the term 'Self Taken Image'.

Listening to any Nick Cave song while shaving. Feels like you're in a film and something Enormously Significant is going to go down once you've got your clothes on.

Convincing a gullible friend that Loughborough is pronounced 'lowbrow'.

Wyclef Jean. The thinking person's Will.I.Am. Not a massive achievement, but still.

The comedic stylings of Amy Schumer. First rate.

After having some rugby bores in your local pub, going on about how you can have a pint in the stands, and sit with opposing fans and everything, hauling up your slacks and telling them that's because it's a shit game that doesn't inspire any passion, played and watched by posh cunts.

Recently-single friends who embrace the digital dating age with gusto, seemingly viewing the search facility on PlentyofFish as an electronic Panini sticker book, to be completed as rapidly as possible. "Got, got, need, got, need, squirter."

Sidling up to a flighty-looking Learning Support Assistant in 'Cozy Joe's' and pigeonholing her on subject of the recent Comic-Con event at the local arena, stoutly maintaining despite her confused denials that you saw her there dressed as Emma Frost off of 'X-Men'.

When friends are discussing the recent activities of Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei, chipping in with and bellowing "Stop the bus, I want Ai Weiwei!"

The hot water bottle and the electric blanket. Fine bedwarming solutions, but not exactly rock 'n' roll. Put them together, though, then you've got a frisson of excitement going on.

That sitcom that's always on; "Science Guys". Them and their catchphrase "Bosingwa!" - priceless.

Gaining a little grim entertainment while attending an 'earthy' family wedding by keeping a mental tally of racist statements vouchsafed to you, a propos nothing, by your fellow revellers.

Lobbying the local council asking that they ban any future performance of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" due to its insensitivity towards the transgender community. And because it's shit.

Missy Elliott is back. Yacka to the yack!

Moving to the fourth largest city in the Netherlands to open a scrapyard that specialises in 'Utility' pickup vehicles, calling it, with grinding inevitability, "Ute Wrecked".

Banging on the DJ booth, asking the custodian of the turntables to take off that "Peanut Butter Jelly" song because you have a nut allergy.

Knowing so little about 19th century Russian literature that you have to Gogol 'Dead Souls'.

Folk who collect mugs or postcards from various foreign cities. Easy to mock, but it's nice to gain genuine pleasure from something so simple and, frankly, inexpensive.

Referring to a stay-at-home evening of onanism as 'Kodi and chill'.

Confusing Tinder with Twitter. Difficult to follow current events as they happen via the medium of photos of pouting ladies who are keen to stress they are not looking for 'casual' or 'players'. On the plus side, though, some lovely dates with Joey Barton and Stephen Fry.


Going on about the after effects of a strong cup of coffee like you're Hunter S. cunting Thompson. Bitch please, it's only a cuppa.

The mistaken belief that 'banal, hackneyed saying or observation + picture of a Minion = fresh comedy gold'.

Jurgen Klopp. Zany cunt.

'Hilarious' photographs wherein young ladies wield a false moustache on a stick or one of them little cards that makes it appear you have A Slightly Different Chin!

Gamergate and similar faux-controversies. Grown-ups who spent most of their leisure time playing computer games have poor social skills and little respect for women - who'd have thought that?

The return to the music scene of Phil effing Collins. Tory voters - you may be losing your tax credits, but you've got your baked-bean-headed musical messiah back. Swings and roundabouts, what?

James Bond films. Is there any need for these tiresome, Little Englander wank fantasies in this day and age?

Tough Mudder and similar assault course enthusiasts, thinking they the shit because they enjoy titting about in clarts of a weekend. They need to bring back 'The Krypton Factor', that would sort the w. from the c.

Peter Oborne. Not fooling anybody. His real name's Peter Ginger.

Posting pictures of your 'afternoon tea'. What's that, a little sammidge, a scone AND a cupcake? On the top shelf of a twee cakestand? Oooh, I've just come.

Emojis. Fuck your emojis. Dirty leering winky-face. I was born an emoticon man and I'll ruddy well die an emoticon man. :p

Lonely Planet cornholes, vapouring on about their trip to see The Northern Lights. Aurora Borealis? Aurora Boringbastards more like!

People complaining about Christmas decorations being up too soon. It's like they start moaning earlier and earlier each year.

Pornographic actors having to conclude proceedings by finishing themselves off manually while a lazy/unskilful female ON TEN TIMES THE MONEY just lies there waggling her dugs and batting her eyelashes.

Sleaford Mods. Two Eight-Ace-lookings tramps doing third rate John Cooper Clarke shtick? FTS. The emperor's new tracksuit.

Sharing your full and frank criticism of the latest John Lewis advert, as though there is a genuine expectation that a mawkish shop advert aimed at thick people should have any artistic merit.

Missing five-a-side, having been mercilessly kicked in a previous game by a so-called friend unable to live with your mad skillz.

Cyclists who feel the need to give an in-depth account of the number of miles covered and the route they took. I used to like playing on me bike when I was little but I didn't go on and fucking on about it or dress up like Eddy Merckx.

Schmucks with their 'man cave' BS. Just be honest and call it a 'tug shop' or 'wanking chamber'.

A new LP from Adele? Dreadful music for dreadful people who buy (buy!) their music from supermarkets.