Down with Charles   Leave a comment

Man, I felt for my nigga Charles Kennedy when he had to do that speech after his recent bout of ill health (and subsequent questions about his lifestyle). They had some nasty-looking close-up shots of his pale and sweaty chops that they were using instead of the words, the cheeky BBC bitches.

Hey! Guess what my man Adam gave me when I visited him in Bristol last weekend? Have you guessed yet? That’s right! About a hundred-odd BBC wildlife recordings on 7″ single in pristine condition. Oh yes. To paraphrase Professor Wrongangles (about whom, more in a mo): “There’s a new DJ in town. Have you heard him?” To give one brief example of the sort of thing I’m sitting on, we’re talking:

Courtship begging by female
Copulation (distant)
Copulation (close)
Plus ‘choking’

You want snipes? I got ‘em. Etc.

Yeah, the other day I’m in The Catflap charity shop and Professor Wrongangles bustles in carrying two busted-up children’s guitars and various other mania-gear and announces to the catty old women “There’s new guitar-player in town! Have you seen him?” He says this with the kind of comic timing that can only come from making it up as you go along, of course. “He hasn’t been taking his pills so you might not be able to though,” he carries on, provoking nervous laughter from the staff. He’s the dude.

The other day the bell goes and there’s Loukas holding an Akai S950 sampler. “Any use?” he asks. Well no, not really, but for £20 I can pretend I can’t do all that shit with a computer. I remember when samplers were like the Holy Grail, only much, much better. I remember first hearing about their existence and thinking, well, that’s it then. That’s the answer. Only problem with this one was that it has one of those rectangular power leads that are so unusual they’re practically collector’s items in themselves, and it, er, didn’t have one. I used to have one for a Marantz amplifier but I lent it to my brother for a weird keyboard he had and then he flogged it and that and then emigrated to Australia with the money in a pair of pink and grey check golfing slacks that are also still technically mine. The Aussies have now got him touring in a freak show as BOBBY THE HUMAN BRITISH PENIS, so its karma, I guess. Anyway, after much hassling of the digital artistic community here and about I think I’ve established that they’re fucking difficult to get hold of but luckily Loukas reckons he can put his peaceful hands on the original so hopefully everything’s cool and I’m finally going to be able to make music like they did in the early 90s.

The other day in Bristol I had one of those special hangovers you get from cider, bitter, Guinness, red wine, port, skunk and generally hanging around with Adam Teasdale, mine host par excellence, for slightly too long. The nausea is bad but the worst feeling is the dull ache at the back of your neck that makes you feel like you’re going to black out at any second. We were walking slowly through the park and I told Sam that I wanted to change my epitaph from:

Here Lies Pete Um.
He was A Very Silly Man


Here Lies Pete Um.
Serves Him Right.

Posted March 26, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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