Jah Jah Dub

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Oh, and by the way, I've been all about James Harries since way back when.

Check it:

Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Just delivered some files to some guy downstairs who looks like a grown-up version of that antique-dealing child who was on Wogan with Frank Skinner about fifteen or so years ago and seemed old beyond his years with a sort of cherubic-blonde-curled-Little-Lord-Fauntleroy thing going on.

It isn't him though.

That kid had a sex change a couple of years back.

Heard this week, "Ever since Coming to America I've loved everything that Eddie Murphy has done."*

Let's have a look at that corpus:

Daddy Day Camp (2005) (announced) .... Charlie Hinton
Shrek 2 (2004) (voice) .... Donkey
Haunted Mansion, The (2003)
Shrek 4-D (2003) (voice)
Daddy Day Care (2003)
I Spy (2002)
Adventures of Pluto Nash, The (2002)
Showtime (2002)
Dr. Dolittle 2 (2001)
Shrek (2001) (voice) Nutty Professor II: The Klumps (2000)
"PJs, The" (1999)
Bowfinger (1999)
Life (1999) Holy Man (1998) Doctor Dolittle (1998) Mulan (1998) (voice)
Metro (1997)
Nutty Professor, The (1996)
Vampire in Brooklyn (1995)
Beverly Hills Cop III (1994)
Dangerous: The Short Films (1993) (V) .... Pharaoh ('Remember The Time' video)
Distinguished Gentleman, The (1992)
Boomerang (1992)
Another 48 Hrs.
Harlem Nights (1989)
What's Alan Watching? (1989)
Coming to America (1988)

My word, what a body of work that is. Being generous but not including voiceovers, there is perhaps one worthwhile performance there - The Nutty Professor. I can just about accept someone liking that. But the others... has any actor in history ever had such a remarkable run? Glad I looked it up, there were a few peaches slipping off my shit film radar: Life; Haunted Mansion; I mother-fucking Spy...

*Obviously he can't like them that much as I had to provide the names of Showtime and the execrable Bowfinger.

"No, of course I agree with the tube strike. It is the workers' right to withold their labour to extract concessions from capital. It is a blow against the machine and I ful... what? They earn how much?"


Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Yesterday we were taken out for lunch. The film, Blue Juice, was mentioned four times during the meal. Never again will this Sean Pertwee-vehicle be so heavily referenced by anyone, anywhere, ever.

I hereby issue a prohibition on any use of the word "funky" not relating to music or smell. The following are no longer acceptable unless they are used to establish a resemblance to Bootsy Collins: "a funky haircut"; "a funky pair of trousers"; "he seemed quite funky".

Shockingly remiss of me not to flag Little Lady Fauntleroy last night. It was (and let's face it, it was always going to be) one of the most remarkable pieces of television I've ever seen. Lauren (née James) Harries has held a fascination for me since my boyhood, but it exceeded my high expectations. Nice to see Keith Allen back on the box too, his storming off after telling clan Harries to fuck off was probably his finest work since the Country House video (also Damien Hirst's greatest art).

There's an empty yoghurt pot in the bin in our lavatory. It seems unlikely that someone was sitting there, tucking into a Strawberry Ski, but it certainly makes for an arresting image.

Warning: Football related

Trying to work out who Deco reminds me of has been driving me cuckoo. The nearest I got was "a serious little boy who keeps himself to himself and takes up boxing - something happens to break the ice and his face creases into a winning smile". Then the scales fell from my eyes, Saul slipped the sibilant and picked up a plosive and I realised... Ladies and gentlemen, you saw it here first:


Friday, June 25, 2004

My final words on last night's football:

Harsh but fair.

Hoping for Portugal, or at a pinch the Czechs, to win the thing now.

Couldn't work out if Ricardo was the biggest try-hard out or if his insistence on taking the winning penalty after saving one was actually pretty stop it. Decided on the latter. If that was David James you'd think he was amazing. It's not quite Antonin Panenka in the 1976 final, but it's close. Bravo, Ricardo, bravo!

I've spent most of the morning in the park nursing a migraine. I'm ok now, more or less. Don't worry your pretty little heads.

Well, what did you expect?


Thursday, June 24, 2004

Blackburn defeats The Man! He's like a late middle-aged, white, reality-tv-career-revived Huey Newton.

Tony Blackburn:

Huey Newton:

Blackburn - rebel for life.


Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Of course "The Boy is Mine" by Brandy and Monica.

Spare a thought for the Italians today, the first team ever to fail to get out of the group stage despite scoring 5 points.

NB: The thought you should spare is, "hahahahahahahahahah! See you later, Italy! Hahahahahaha!"

The look I'm sporting today would not be out of place on a 1970s English lecturer on a red brick university campus. This is not necessarily a bad thing.

Yesterday I sewed this badge (actual size)

onto my bag. I also listened to Staring at the Sea by the Cure.

Yeah, I know. I win.


Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Of course shaving at work. Of course giving oneself hard to explain shaving cuts at work.


Monday, June 21, 2004

Music Lists - My final words on the subject.

They can be useful. Several records which have become part of my life I wouldn't have heard of were it not for these lists. On the other hand, they do annoy me, as I suppose they are supposed to. The idea of ranking albums or any artform is fairly ludicrous, and an individual's personal choices are always more interesting as there is no claim (implicit or otherwise) made for an objective ordering in terms of quality. The Observer one is even more stupid, as it only concentrates on British music. I don't know what "British Music" is (leaving aside the question of what is "an album" anyway?), music with a British consciousness? Not many records are more American than Exile on Main Street. I don't think it matters what nationality the musicians were, made as it was by the Rolling Stones, the world's greatest minstrel band. Is it music made by people holding British passports? Seems a bit arbitrary. Would an Owen Hargreaves album count? I do hope so, although not as much as I hope he makes one at all. Anyway, everyone knows that Americans do pop music better than the British - along with television, universities, humour, novels, films... I don't really know the answer to these questions I pose, and if I'm honest, I care even less.

You know, people don't talk enough about pop music - you rarely hear an opinion on it nowadays. I'm trying to redress the balance today.

The 10 Best British Albums Ever

1) Hunky Dory - David Bowie
2) Ziggy Stardust - David Bowie
3) Station to Station - David Bowie
4) Diamond Dogs - David Bowie
5) Low - David Bowie
6) Aladin Sane - David Bowie
7) Heroes - David Bowie
8) Young Americans - David Bowie
9) Divine - Madness
10) Scary Monsters and Super Creeps - David Bowie

Outkast: 57% as good as people say.
The Neptunes: As good as people say, but only 30% of the time.
N*E*R*D*: 26% as good as people say.
Pulp: A solid 7 out of 10. No higher, please.
The Clash: 80% as good as people say, but only 9% of the time. The other 91% they spend being 25% as good as you want them to be.
The Velvet Underground: About half as good as you persuade yourself they are.
Bruce Springsteen: Songs get 2% better with each listen.
Blur: Too trivial to make calculating percentages worthwhile.
Oasis: Made three good albums. Unfortunately the third is split over Be Here Now, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants and Heathen Chemistry.
Coldplay: Quite good, if you like that sort of thing.
Girls Aloud: (Whisper it) Not actually very good. A group liked by music snobs (e.g. Miranda Sawyer) trying to show that they're not music snobs.

More about that list.

Disgusted with my appallingly middle-brow "good taste in music". A quick count reveals I have (as opposed to frequently listen to) 57 of the hundred. There are maybe ten there that I might buy at some point. The rest I've chosen to live without. Point of information: I realise that not many will fall into this trap, but don't buy Goodbye Yellow Brickroad by Elton John. No matter what people say, no matter how much you want to proclaim, "no, I like Elton John, actually, he's really good - not bad like *you* thought. His early stuff is brilliant..." it's fucking dire. Apart from the title song. And Bennie and the Jets. That's a tune.

Yes, these lists are sent to annoy me, but the Observer's 100 best British albums list... The Stone Roses... at number 1?! The best album EVER made by British people? Stop it, "Paul Morley", stop stroking your chin at me and saying, "but don't you see? It is the best. Aaaaahhhh. I've shattered your preconceptions." You haven't. You've all made fools of yourselves. Couldn't someone have rigged the voting to spare the compilers' blushes at such an absurd result?

Plans for an early night scuppered by a Dirty Sanchez double bill. Makes up for today's bleary eyes.


Friday, June 18, 2004

This was going to be a response to Stu's comment but it has a post kind of a feel so I'm putting it here.

So... why nothing about the football?

Short answer: I haven't seen much of it. I've missed both England games so far, was out on Sunday and I was watching a ballet yesterday so I have nothing to say about England's performances.

Longer answer(s):

1) There's more than enough pontificating about Euro 2004 already. If you want to read about it, there's bountiful information and opinion elsewhere. Football is completely overexposed, whilst David Bellamy, alas, is being cruelly ignored. (NB If I ever get round to making any T-shirts, Bellamy will be one of the first. I could start a website of t-shirt ideas. All the kids would be wearing them, you'll see.)

2) It hasn't particularly captured my imagination(/I haven't been swept up in the phoney hype - you decide). I'll watch games if I'm in, but I'm not going to organise my life around some millionaires kicking a ball about. It seems like a bit of a spin-off from club football - Silvestre and Pires playing in the same team! Crazy! Like Back to Reality with Big Brother *and* I'm a Celebrity... contestants sharing the same house.

BUT: As I've been prompted to this I'd just like to say can we drop the "we" when talking about England games? "We won!" "Really?! You were playing?!" And while I take a delight in Rooney's nascent genius, it is the same feeling I get whilst watching young Ronaldo - the former in no way represents me.

I think that David Bellamy may be the best man ever.

What! You need more reasons than the picture? Very well then:

1) He is a naturalist but thinks that plants are best and more interesting. Not animals, like *you* thought.

2) The beard.

3) The voice.

4) His two passions are boxing... and ballet. Brilliant.


Thursday, June 17, 2004

Do you affect annoying opinions?
Do you like Dirty Sanchez, or at least can put up with it every now and again?
Do you own some cool stuff?

If so, then why not come and live with Martin and I?!

But seriously folks, two rooms are going in our house as of the end of July.

House information:

- In Streatham Hill, good transport links to Ends East and West. Something like half an hour to either I would guess.

- We have a garden.

- Sky and Broadband and that.

- "Reasonable" rent.

If you or anyone you know are looking for somewhere to live then drop me a line. We're alright, like.


Friday, June 11, 2004

Trying to track down Cocksucker Blues on DVD. This is in an American format but the summary's nice. I particularly enjoyed, 'Mick turns to the camera after a brief meeting with Tina Turner and says "I wouldn't mind…"' They also seem to have used a photo of me on the cover. You know, this one:


Thursday, June 10, 2004

Incidentally, the greatest of the generation of young method actors from the 1950s is Montgomery Clift, not James Dean or Marlon Brando like you thought. His disfigurement and early death is a bigger loss than Dean's demise or Brando's descent into oddness, obesity and the Island of Doctor Moreau.

And he inspired the only good Clash song.

The problem with wearing a vest: in your mind you're thinking Paul Newman, Montgomery Clift, Marlon Brando, cigarette hanging out of the corner of your mouth. However, you are niggled by the vague suspicion that you may be more Onslow.

Can't decide who to vote for? A simple matter of weighing up benefits and costs. First calculate the monetary value of the benefits to you of each potential candidate. Note, this does not just mean the amount of council tax you will pay: what value do you put on lower crime, London Open House, cleaner streets? Now what is the probability of your vote deciding the election? Multiply this probability by the net value of each candidate's package and you have a figure for the benefit to be had in casting your vote. Chances are (and those chances are 100%), this benefit will be less than the cost to you of voting. i.e. a figure put on the inconvenience of going to the booth - let's say 50p. In which case it would be irrational to bother.

Welcome to economics. Truly it is the dismal science.*

* It's not a science at all, of course, no matter how much it wants to be. Economics has physics envy. The chain of envy goes as follow: Sociology -> Politics -> Economics -> Physics.

Don't particularly want to initiate a bidding war, but just £4.20 for these is insane. I almost want to offer more. Almost.


Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Listening to Mark Radcliffe: if I ditched the wife-beater and put on an oversized Oasis Supersonic t-shirt then it could be 1995 all over again, although thankfully I haven't just sat stoney-faced through Radio Tip Top.

I'm officially proclaiming this the first day of my summer and am sitting here in a vest. Of course a vest.

My comments section is working again, btw. Just in case you wanted to leave any, like.

Anyone else want g-mail? It's quite good. I can "invite friends" to open accounts now.


- Space is more or less unlimited.
- As it's new you may be able to get your name without _uk or _2004 type jazz after it.

Drop me a line if you're interested.

Outside my office last week I was smoking a cigarette (yes... I know...) when a portly gentleman of a certain age approached me, pushing an empty wheelchair.

"Smoking really doesn't become you, you know..." he said, in a voice both refined and, ahem, theatrical. "Of course I could never smoke because I wanted to be an Olympic runner. I never made it in the end, but I can't blame that on the smoking. That was because of the cello."

"Oh... Right."

"Yes, I had a marvellous cello teacher and I suppose I continued with it so as not to hurt her feelings. I was raised by nuns, you see. I never wanted to have a relationship like my mother and father had. And being a first generation jew didn't make it any easier. Or my brother, who married outside the race and ended up being divorced. We've just come from the Royal Academy. What's your name?"


"Ahh... where are you from?"


"Oh really? With a name like that I thought you might have a kilt..."

"Well, my father's Scottish," I lied.

"What is your clan?"


"Ah! Excellent. Well, there's Scottish dancing on at St Clarence's church, you know it? Sundays 8:30 until October. We go often. You should come."

"Yes. Yes, I should come. To Scottish country dancing... Get in touch with my roots."

"Ah, here she is..."

A confused old lady approaches.

"This is my mother. Say hello to Alistair, Mother. She can't read and write you know. Oh Mother, stop being so rude. She is impossible... Give Alistair a kiss. That's right, three. Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Father, Son and Holy Ghost."

"Well... Nicholas... " I say, spotting his name badge, "nice to have met you but I really must be getting back."

"Ok, Alistair. Delightful to have met you. Remember, St Clarence's church, Sundays at 8:30. Every week until October!"

This really did happen, although the conversation was longer and odder than I've been able to convey here.

How Free Choices May Lead to a Non-Optimal Equilibrium

Consider a beach serviced by two ice cream vans, A and B. If we imagine that the beach contains a continuum of people, evenly spaced along it and that people will always go to their nearest vendor then the optimal places for the ice cream vans to be positioned are at one quarter and three quarters of the way along the beach. In this way will the sum of the distances from each person to a van be minimised. This is shown by the diagram below:


However, in this situation it will be in A's interest to move a little to the right. By doing so they will eat into B's share while preserving their own. Although the people on the far left will have to walk further for refreshment, they will still go to A over B. Similarly, B will try and take some of A's business by moving a little to the left.


This process will continue until there is no further advantage to be had. In other words, when they are beside each other:


This is the only position which will provide an equilibrium, ie, where there will be no incentive to change. Without an iron fisted local authority, the kind so lacking in Amity (Jaws, 1975), the only winners will be the ice cream vans.

Make of this what you will.

You may notice I've added a couple of links over there. If you'd like me to add you then I probably will. I can't remember which sites are a bit secret though, so e-mail me if you want some publicity.

You may like to try my Cornish new address: OR my other one which I just created:


Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Road traffic reports this morning gave me a licence to be late - some say, "a tardy pass". When I did get in, "Sorry about my lateness, some roads closed this morning... there was a shooting in Brixton," made me feel just a little a bit like I kept it real.

Is it just me, or is something extremely rare always happening, making apparently ker-azzy astronomical phenomena pretty commonplace? This Venus brouhaha must be at least the seventeenth time that some body has passed in front of the sun that I can remember. When I was seven (?) and Halley's Comet was last here, and everyone was all like, "Oh, it only comes every Big Number of years, you might just get to see it again..." I hoped and hoped that I'd still be around to catch it the next time. Couldn't care less now, there'll be a different extremely rare one next week, Ian's Comet or some such, only to be seen every 635 years. But Nigel's Comet will be the week after that (first time in a fortnight), and Simon's Comet will be round again soon, for only the third time in a gazillion years. Oooh. If you remove the particular from these events and just think of them as Cool Stuff, then they're pleasingly regular and not rare at all.

Continuing the theme, Peter Tatchell is pushing for this proposed Gays Museum for London (backed by all the major mayoral candidates except Frank Maloney, presumably), to be located at Bow Street Police Station, where Oscar Wilde was incacerated after his arrest. Find it pretty hard to get behind this idea of O.W. as a gay hero, to be honest. Of course, his imprisonment for his "crimes" is as close to the definition of breaking a butterfly on a wheel as you're going to get, but never forget that the only reason it went to trial is because Wilde insisted on taking the Marquis of Queensbury to court for his "slander". He was no martyr standing up for his beliefs whatever the consequences, he was trying to preserve his position in society. And let's be honest here, he was an extremely limited writer and his persecution has probably secured for him a place in history which would have been unachievable from his exhausting epigrams alone. In the other corner, Crisp, a man who was always true to himself and lived a genuinely brave life. There's no contest. And for the record, Quentin's funnier.

Spotted this morning: a man on Picadilly carrying a little dog and sporting a look that Quentin Crisp would have rejected as "a bit too Queeny".


Monday, June 07, 2004

Fuck me, I stopped paying attention and missed the birthday of this site. Started it on June 2nd, 2003. There we are then, over a year. I can now stop writing this drivel and leave with my head held high.

Yesterday in Brixton Sainsbury's I queued in front of two drunken deafs who opened their beers while they were waiting and were amusingly lairy. I'd forgotten how pungent the smell of alcohol is in unexpected locales. Reminded of smuggling cans in to the preview of Austin Powers: Goldmember.


Thursday, June 03, 2004

Brother Beyond "star" in sex arrest. Promises more than it delivers.

I'd forgotten how excellent Cantona was. There's very little I wouldn't give up to look like him here:

The prostitutes local to my work seem to open around lunchtime. Industrious.

Fuck me... I'll be 26 next month. Still clinging onto the mid-twenties crag with all my might.

I need to free some space on my phone. Here are selection of the best (fit to print) texts I haven't been able to bring myself to delete:

I am sitting on a train. Who is sitting across the aisle from me? Of course it's cyclopian Jazzman arthead George Mellie (Melly?), accompanied by a young nubian princess. He says I'm a very pretty man... And now he's talking about the Reichstag. Peach.

I'd just like to point out that I got hit on by 3 separate women tonight. Of course they were all quite mediocre. Of course I still would have. Of course I didn't.

i'm in a manx gay bar. Of course it's a remix of james brown. Of cause someones doing 'so complicated' by morrisette. Of cause she's the girl i'm with.

of course i'm drunk. That's why I wrote "of cause".

Harsh... but fair. conceptual art's a concept, which is why the objects fester in warehouses. can't burn a concept. quit whingin tracy, u still got your dreams

Do you know what I really fucking hate? That's right, hiccups.

And you know what else? Hiccups sitting next to a really cute girl on the bus home. Cos otherwise, she'd be totally mine...

And the winner:

...too busy gettin pissd


Wednesday, June 02, 2004

So Mourinho's only been in an hour and he's already being amazing:

"I want a small squad - 21 players plus the goalkeepers and no more."

Current Chelsea first team squad size? 34.

"We have top players and, sorry if I'm arrogant, we have a top manager too. I am European champion and I am special."

You sure are, Jose, you sure are.

This morning I have been creating my own unintentional "mash up" by mixing Falling in Love Again with the theme from Birds of a Feather.

Fa-lling in love a-gain, never wan-ted to, oh what'll I do, doo doo do doo.

Spotted yesterday on The Greatest Magic Tricks... Ever! on Channel 5 (which also contained one of the best is-this-your-card-impressing-chicks-moments I've ever seen): Andrew O'Connor - now a "magic producer" - late of "On the Waterfront", the excellent but forgotten Saturday morning kids TV show (featuring Kate Copstick and the Flashing Blade).


Tuesday, June 01, 2004

Of late I am being constantly being asked for directions. Not a big fan of this new approachability.

Also: Fast Love by George Michaels is a tune. So is Spinning the Wheel. And Outside. And Freedom '90. If I ever DJed I would play them.

More about make up.

I thought that a bit of "slap" would make me look like Bowie:

However, on looking in the mirror I was nothing so much as a drag queen who has just come off stage. All I lacked was the net over my hair and the single tear sliding down my cheekbone signifying the inner loneliness hidden behind the entertainer. Unfortunately I didn't take a photo, but here's something to help out your imagination:

In the words of Scott Walker, "It's raining today and I'm just about to forget the train window girl... That wonderful day we met." Half right anyway, it sure is raining. Also, my supervisor is off this week, leaving me most of his accounts to do. (Rule of thumb: 10-12 accounts = one person. I now have 18) Went to a funfair yesterday. Most hardcore rides I've ever experienced. Still trying to pull my face back into shape after the cetrifugal-chimp-Wurlitzer. Put some makeup on in a messing around on a Sunday afternoon kind of way. Didn't realise how hard it is to remove. Spent the rest of the day with smudged eyes making me look like rent. Uncle Monty-types luckily avoided.

Point of information: my hair is looking excellent this morning.


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