Saturday, August 05, 2006


Ye Gods, I'm spinning so many internet plates at the moment that I don't have time to think, let alone have half an hour for a good sitdown on the lavvy reading Roy Hudd's Cavalcade Of Variety Acts.

All those plates might come crashing down with a big old clattering racket, but that's the fun of living on the edge of madness, isn't it?

First up, I've got my secret blog, where I pour my heart out about all my insecurities and try to sort myself out, so I become a happy, balanced person who is helpful to others and has a demanding but successful career! There is obviously Stuff In My Past that needs assessing before I can go on to the Next Stage, and I have to Reach Closure and Grasp The Nettle and other Californian self-help bollocks which ordinary people are now dropping into conversation because they've seen the Trisha show and that. I have been crying a lot but it's cathartic, innit? As someone who was doing a psychology A-level said to me a long time ago, "****, (my real name), you're a lovely person, but all that cynicism is just a defence mechanism". If only I'd heeded those words!

Then there's my band's MySpace. Low Breasts are a middle aged All Wimmin art terrorist feminist collective influenced by Teenage Jesus And The Jerks, the first three Slits' gigs, The Society For Cutting Up Men (SCUM), The Baader-Meinhof gang, Mrs Mills and Mrs Miller. We consider ourselves a walking art installation, and for the past month of Sundays (hah!) have been stationed on Whitstable seafront handing out cans of worms with a can opener to people, encouraging them them to open the tin. They we stand in front of them and scream "HAR HAR! YOU'VE OPENED A RIGHT CAN OF WORMS THERE!" As far as the MySpace goes, so far we've only got two "friends" - the evil, grinning Tom and a highly strung fourteen year old girl from Connecticut who likes multiple piercings and collecting animal skulls. Still ...

Finally ... (roll of drums) there's Geoff And Betty's First Podcast! They're all doin' it! Yes, blogging's answer to John and Fanny Craddock take you on a three and a half hour journey, with recollections of our childhoods "when it was all trees and fields around 'ere", a couple of delicious low fat recipes that are just the thing for a high summer tea, a description of a lovely countryside walk around Appledore, Kent, and some treasures from our vast music collection, including tracks by Winifred Attwell, Mrs Mills, Mrs Miller, Manuel And His Music Of The Mountains and Percy Faith. No, make that the Cliff Michelmore and Jean Metcalf of blogging! Subscribe to our next 15 podcasts now!

Phew! Back to the grindstone now! If I stop, I might realise how empty my life is and have a breakdown of some sort!

How on EARTH am I supposed to concentrate on my own smorgasbord of interwebulator activity if you have all that on offer?
Oooh, it's a real rollercoaster ride, the internet malarkey. I'm surprised more of us aren't suffering from burnout.
"Tom has 98939718 friends."

You forgot to mention your Flickr page, where you share your "art" photographs of yourself staring at yourself in the mirror, or any other reflective surface.
Shykitten - ah, but they're all a substitute for real friends. He's overcompensating.

But, yeah, BASTARD.

Holyhoses - actually, I specialise in blurry views of windswept beaches, showing somebody walking with their back to the wind, hair blowing in their face, and all the views of famous landmarks that everyone else has taken exactly the same picture of millions of times over. You don't want to be too original, do you?
OK, so fess up: how many of us hovered our cursors hopefully over the words "secret blog", "Myspace" and "podcast"?
So those links aren't working are they? Pity - must be something to do with strange atmospheric conditions ...
I admit it, I did the 'expectant hovering'. I wanted to hear the podcast.
Actually, the MySpace is much more intriguing, if you can stand the really loud, atonal music. At least there is a picture of the band on there. A right bunch of mingers we are, too.
(Blogger comments playing up again. And my e-mail account. And the Speedtouch Connection, for the second week in a row. And Bloglines. I'm really getting the arsehole with everything on the internet)
i hovered (and i'm not ashamed to admit it)

i especially wanted to hear the musak of 'low breasts'

Have you got anything on YouTube? I keep looking.

I know Appledore very well. My mate Patrick's dad used to run the dairy there and I have a tape recording of "our" band in the village hall from 1979. Patrick was a very very good guitarist. He's dead now.
Urban Chick - your ears wouldn't thank you if you had heard Low Breasts' music. Still, if you're foolhardy, keep trying the link. It might actually be working by now!

Richard - Nothing on YouTube yet. Instead, here's a soothing little something by Teenage Jesus And The Jerks: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvVC-OeG-ro

Ahh, just the sort of thing I put on in the background during my coffee mornings.

As it happens, there is a good walk around Appledore that we've been on a few times, where you end up by the Royal Military Canal. Pity about the bit in the middle where you have to walk along a road for ages.
For a minute there you had me worried. I thought you were serious (and I clicked on your links).
Betty, it is important that you remain strong in your cynicism. You must not crumble. Do not seek sincerity and kindness of the wishy-washy variety. Always go for the jugular. Do not weaken.
Fuck councelling and fuck insecurity and as for closure, bollocks to that.
Change yourself - thankfully not a chance!
I think that Tom must have a hell of a job when he hosts cocktail parties. Think of all those mingin' cherries he has to skewer. And all the mini-fishchips he has to cook. I wouldn't be having that many friends for anything.

Change of plan - Wednesday eve at 8pm now, not Tuesday. Blame Robert...it's not my fault.
Just stopped by and well, busy as usual I see.
Tom - oh, but I have changed, and for the better! Before I used to have what we what has read the self help books call an attitude problem. Now, I'm much more focussed, centred, and I've come to a good place in my life :D

Molly - for a minute I thought you were talking about Tom 909 and it was all incomprehensible to me. Then it was pointed out to me that you are referring to MySpace's Evil, Grinning Tom. I wouldn't want to be at a party with him - imagine that evil grinning face doing the rounds of the room.

Wednesday, right you are. Typical bloody Arsenal fan. Let's hope they lose seven nil, eh?

Gentleman-h - hullo again. Yes, busy busy busy. It's all displacement activity though.
Yes Molly, I'm insecure enough without you getting me all confused like that. Cocktail parties and skewers, and friends - I don't think so!
betty, i think i lurve you.
this news, coming at the end of a seven-day period during which FIVE of my plum bloggers just FUCKED OFF, is welcome tidings indeed!

*hysterical sobbing subsides*
wow, betty. you ARE busy.

if myspace wasn't full of teeny goths looking for friends to encourage them to self harm, or vacant slappers exhorting the world to look at their minges i might give it a whirl.

as it is, i think i'll leave it.
First Nations - the thing that gets me is that loads of my favourite bloggers just seem to have stopped without saying that they've stopped ... Blind Winger, Caroline, Toasty. What's it all about, eh?

Surly - at least MySpace provides a service for all those teenagers in the world who think they are "tortured" because they're "different" from everyone else because they're a goth, sorry, an "individual". Now they can take comfort from the fact that there are millions of entirely unique tortured goths in the world.

And all those pictures of girls in bikinis! I bet none of them have been photoshopped. Oh no.
I don't think that those girls are potatoshopped (a term coined by RoMo...but brilliant, brilliant) I think they have had various ribs removed and they have their mummies to buy them tummytucks. I just let it all hang out. No air-brushing...no oil of OOOOlala! No tummytucks, no potatoshop, no hair removal, no waxing....

She runs off into the distance, skipping in female freedom. A large chortle is heard.

Everyday I see more faces leering down from there. We are becoming a small passportsized image of ourselves. And how come none of them are ugly? Maybe there is a secret stash of photos on the web somewhere - you can pick out how you want to look. Oh just give me Mama Cass. For Christ's-sake get some ugly pits out there. That would liven it up a bit. Alternative 'Ugly Pit' space. Yay!
I dunno, I photoshopped my pictures and thought "why stop there?" So in real life I now look just like Jessica Simpson.
I want that cast (as Deborah Harry would say if she was on here and capable of standing up. Seriously, she fell over when I saw her at Hammy Odeon - and that was in 1994! But that's another story...)

To be serious for a second - is there one and where do I download it? (Answer the second question first....)
If I could find the Low Bloody Breasts, I'd certainly befriend them - and so would Roberta. If they don't really exist, I think you've had enough interest on here to justify starting them. I could use a situationist art terror movement, myself...

Make yourself known, Low Breasts!!
Mmm, there might be a podcast, out there, in cyberspace, but it's very difficult to find by the look of things. The links still aren't working. Honestly, three and a half hours of hard work, all up in smoke!

The lovely Roberta seems far too young and callow to be a "friend" of Low Breasts. Believe me, we're Subverting The Internet With Art Terrorism.
The Low Breasts??

Betty's havin' a larf....

They SHOULD exist though....

Goo on you gooners!

According to the Google search, the Natural Birthers forum reckons that long low breasts give you an advantage when breastfeeding. Dear God.

A quick survey of the forum proves what I've always thought: when women give birth, ninety per cent of their braincells are lost in the placenta.
I seem to recall being the only guy in my entire high school who had a Slits album...they were all covered in mud..three minute hero..is that them?
Ah, that album, Cut. I was scared to buy it at the time, with them naked and covered in mud on the cover, in case people got the wrong idea about me. Now I couldn't care less if they get the wrong idea.
Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?