the mithering times

Meat Is Murder. Track One. Stafford Rangers.

2011-08-14T16:00:00.003+01:00

As an attempt to revive my interest in this blog I'm going to do a little food writing. Not a lot, but enough to get things ticking over, I hope. The plan is a simple one. As often as possible - sometimes real life and 'politics' get in the way - my eldest and I go to the Saturday away games of FC United of Manchester on the 'Boogie Bus'. A chaotic, fan-run enterprise which has developed a reputation for never getting to a game before kick off (not true - we got there twenty minutes early yesterday - but the margin for error is often five or ten minutes either side of the whistle). The reason for the late arrivals is that the bus always takes us to a 'pre-match venue' (i.e. a pub) for a drink, to watch MUFC if they are the early kick-off on TV and, crucially, for free food. Every Boogie Bus, every venue, puts some kind of spread on. It's something that the Brains Trust who run the bus have negotiated with the venues since the earliest days. It's obvious really, we bring you fifty-odd thirsty football supporters, you bring us some food.

For the first couple of seasons me and Sonny Jim went, there was sometimes something which could be considered suitable for vegetarians - chips, cheese and tomato butties, side salad, that kind of thing - but the emphasis was most definitely on meat. In the end we would take along 'emergency vegetarian options', usually some kind of sandwich for 'just in case'. Fellow traveller, vegetarian and bon viveur, Sam operated a similar system, and had been doing so since travelling away with MUFC in the seventies. All of this changed the night of the Rochdale FA Cup game - OH HAPPY DAY! - where a vegetarian chilli was available alongside its beefy brother. The next time we travelled away we went all the way down to Brighton where, again, there was a vegetarian chilli. Since then, every time we have travelled with the Boogie Bus there has been meat-free food available for the very small number of us who lean in that direction. And so it came that yesterday I had the lightbulb moment. From now on, I'll review the 'vegetarian option' and post it on here. I'll even include a few notes about the venues.

So, yesterday and, as you've no doubt deduced from the picture above, the offering was (surprise, surprise) Chilli and Chips. The meat one looked grey and a bit gravy-heavy - a fellow diner commented that some bread to mop up the gravy would have been a useful addition. The meat-free version didn't need it; it had a good texture, with a sensible amount of red lentils absorbing any excessive liquid, soft and tasty kidney beans and a fresh combination of chilli and cumin providing a backdrop. It looked and tasted like it was its own dish rather than a by-product of the meaty version. The chips were catering fries, and some were a little anaemic. They didn't detract from the chilli, but home-cut chips or boiled rice would have pushed this food towards the top of the 'all-time greats' list. Overall rating - delicious - and the tin-trays the food was served in kept it warm to the last mouthful.

The pub itself, which cannot be directly named due to the confidentiality clause signed by all Boogie Bussers, was situated in the village of Weston. Famous, as I'm sure you all know, for coming second in the Best Kept Village Competition. The other place must be gorgeous. Outside the front of the pub was some kind of village green on which somebody had very kindly erected temporary goal posts. Once a decent football had been passed over the bar of the pub, several overweight, balding men had the opportunity to imagine themselves filling the boots of Paul Scholes, George Best, Rory Patterson ...even Barrie George.

The match was against Stafford Rangers - a ten minute drive down the road, and a good, friendly club - and ended with a first game of the season two-nil win for FCUM.

Up Against The Wall XXVII - Rats Tits!

2011-06-10T23:48:00.000+01:00

This was meant to be the Up Against The Wall before last as the one before that reffed the bizarre media this drivel was created in. So, Rats Tits! in tape. Crap, thin tape.

Blue Spotted Tail.

2011-06-09T12:48:00.000+01:00

There was an item on Springwatch last night with lots of unusual nesting sites. The one above is the pole of a sign on the way into Heaton Park where blue tits were nesting. We passed it a couple of weeks back and could hear the chicks twittering inside. On passing earlier this week, The Youngest was hoyed up for a look see and reported back that it smelled disgusting but there was nothing in there. I hope they survived the relentless torrential rain we've been lucky enough to endure here since Easter.

Up Against The Wall XXVI - Your Mum Smok's Dimps / You Smoke Dimps Stop Playing.

2011-06-07T22:08:00.001+01:00

From just inside the football/basketball cage in St Mary's Park, Prestwich where I was idling the hot days of April away with The Kids. Dimps, what a beautifully northern word. And for the record, my mum did smoke dimps. Usually on a Thursday when all funds had been exhausted and with Friday's pay day in sight. As it's Prestwich I'm making the logical leap that it was Mark E. Smith who had popped into the park with a sharpie in order to test out some new Fall lyrics.

Scarecrow.

2011-05-01T23:11:00.002+01:00

Darth Gummidge., originally uploaded by mithering.

To get the kids out of their Mum's hair yesterday afternoon I took them up the road to a pub with a play area. (Yes. I know). The pub is in a village called Simister and it appeared that they had been having some sort of Best Scarecrow competion. Going by his rosette, this fella impressed the judges and won first prize. He was big as well.

Up Against The Wall XXV - DAN Shit BREAF.

2011-04-12T12:02:00.001+01:00

Illiterate, obscene and insulting it may be, but it is also environmentally friendly. Blasted into the floor-grime of a seedy Prestwich back street by a power-cleaner. I've seen ads created using this method - most recently stencilled ads for FC United's community share scheme - but this is a graffiti first for me. Next up, more rude graffiti, and another unique media used to create it. Thanks to Paul Whositsnexttome for the pic.

The Book I Read - Turn The Beat Around: The Secret History of Disco by Peter Shapiro.

2011-04-06T12:48:00.000+01:00

I'm cheating slightly here as I'm only a hundred or so pages into this, but it's all good so far. Ticks lots of boxes for me; index - tick, footnotes - tick, bibliography - tick, discography - tick, only £3 from Fopp - tickety tick. It's wide-ranging, all-encompassing and for Doctor Who fans of A Certain Vintage features Whoberfan (and composer of the K-9 and Company theme music) Ian Levine in a prominent role. Best of all, though, was the revelation that there was a disco/high-NRG cover of this:

Which, given the double entendre implicit in the title, is not surprising. Listen for the 'guitar' break in the cover.

Sorry For Laughing.

2011-03-31T23:56:00.000+01:00

Only two posts on this blog this month, so please treat this snak rock gem as an apology.

Pictures of Matchstick Men VII.

2011-03-01T12:34:00.000Z

Saw this dirty little bugger last week when in town with The Kids. They loved him. Mainly because he has 'his nuggets' out.

Man or astro-man? - Reversal of Polarity

2011-02-14T00:06:00.000Z

They are, most definitely, out there. The playing of the 'double bass' on this is brilliant. A band full of entertainers. I hope their reconfigured line-up gets somewhere near Manchester very soon.

Up Against The Wall XXIV - Stop Pickin' Yer Nose.

2011-02-08T12:10:00.002Z

04022011231[1], originally uploaded by mithering.

In chalk, and possibly part of a longer narrative (see writings below), on a side-door on the old fire station on London Road. All that's missing is '...or your head will cave in.'

Flat-top Fucker.

2011-02-07T12:50:00.001Z

27012011224, originally uploaded by mithering.

Well, apologies all round for the lack of regular updates here. Many reasons, not all worth going into on here, but they do include new phone not talking properly to Blogger or flickr, newer projects and the system in work not talking properly to Blogger, flickr etc. But, I have managed to create a 'work around', so will now be able to do what I've done in the past and blog from my desk at dinner time. (Home-made hummus butty, since you asked). Speaking of work, the above graffiti appeared on a boarded-up window outside work where everybody stands around smoking. Topical? Yes, because as chance would have it a new temp has started work on the floor above who could well have been the guy in Kirsty MacColl's titular chip shop. I really like the crown on top of the 'i' of Elvis. The King would have loved it. (And just in case you are that temp and you're reading this and thinking of applying a blue suede shoe to my skinny white arse, Flat Top Fucker was a song by Jackknife and I just couldn't resist using it as the title of this post).

Louvin Brothers - I Don't Believe You've Met My Baby

2011-01-26T22:58:00.001Z

Despite being an atheist I have a great love of certain forms of religious music, and The Louvin Brothers' gospel material is right up there. Truly heartfelt and inspirational. Unfortunately, clips of them performing it appear to be low to non-existent. So here's one of their secular numbers, I Don't Believe You've Met My Baby. Charlie Louvin (real name Charles Loudermilk) died today, a full forty-five years after his elder brother, Ira, was killed in a motor accident. Their close harmonies are unmatchable.

Working On A Chain Gang.

2011-01-22T00:31:00.000Z

Oops, they did it again. After their earlier appropriation of Goya's take on Saturn devouring his children, a brutal carbuncle redefined, this week's episode of The Simpsons featured a 'reimaging' of my nominated 'Favourite Painting', Manet's Un bar aux Folies Bergère. A work which, in its original form, really captures the sights, the sounds and the smells of working in retail.

Wonderful Woman.

2010-12-20T11:29:00.001Z

Another great FC flag from the prolific Voxra. This one is based on an original design for the TUC which currently resides at The People's History Museum in Manchester. Can't wait to see it 'in situ'.

White Riot.

2010-12-16T18:14:00.001Z

fcum, originally uploaded by mithering.

It’s been a week so I guess it’s finally time to reveal what a fucking ballache I found that last round of the cup. Right from the get go, with the reduced allocation from Brighton being made based on bad information or information applied in a bad way, which led to the match down at The Withdean Stadium being categorised as a Category C game. The worst possible rating for expectations of all-round hooliganism and insane puppy-stabbing debauchery. Queuing for tickets for me and The Eldest before the Hinckley game, with season ticket and membership cards in hand. Queuing just before the end of the Hinckley game, with our kid’s membership card in hand, and missing the handbags. The interminable journey down to Brighton. Getting lost, missing the first twenty five minutes, and the angst and misery that generated. Our Kid standing outside the ground, waiting for me to turn up with his tickets twenty five minutes late.

Then the upswing in mood as we took the lead and held on to right near the end. Brighton’s inevitable equaliser, the penalty save and all round Player of the Round performance by Sam Ashton. Back on the coach and stuck on the M40, frost ghosts appearing beneath each vehicle as we did one mile in an hour. Getting up at 5.45 and going to bed at 2.45.

Then the teeth-grinding madness associated with getting tickets for the replay. Calling every day until I finally got through only to find out that all the tickets for Main Stand and MRE were gone. Where were all these fuckers coming from? Ooops, I know, I have four new people from work alongside me in the Cemmy End. The wait for tickets. Throat-croaking, mind-bending illness which also affects The Eldest, meaning he wasn’t able to come along. I’m glad he didn’t, the temperature at pitch side would have killed him. Then being at that game and not being able to sing, not being able to make a noise that would have helped push things on. The faces of the goalkeeper and the defence when the fourth goal went in. Like seeing crushing disappointment on the faces of your children and not being able to do anything about it. The score in the end was meaningless; we were always going to be on the end of a thumping at some point, over-achieving, noisy infants that we were, but somehow it doubling in the last few minutes made it that bit more difficult to take.

Sorry, I had to get that off my chest. And now, let’s get on with the league.

Incidentally, the picture above was taken by James "The Curse" Three-Stands who I work with. He's been to the last three home FC games. Each time in a different stand (Main, MRE, Cemetery) and is looking to get to Vegas on Sunday. I've suggested he has a go in all four stands. Just to keep his average up.

The Ten Million Quentins - The Golden Mermaid (Video). 1986.

2010-12-15T00:03:00.000Z

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Ten Million Quentins was a band I was a member of in Brighton, for about a year, around 1985-1986. We were the archetypal C86 band before the archetype existed. Not because we were necessarily clever or ahead of the game, more that there were people around us who were. Mainly Josh Dean and Dennis Wheatley. Josh, Dennis, myself and The Paul Griffin Show had a great time during the autumn of 1985 putting on bands on Tuesday nights at The Royal Escape Club on Brighton seafront, under the name of The Big Twang.

The first night saw the then newly-formed That Petrol Emotion play, supported by The Wolfhounds and Whirl. Later gigs in the (roughly) twelve-week turnaround included Primal Scream with The Wedding Present, Microdisney, a Pink Records night starring The June Brides, which also saw the return of The Wolfhounds with McCarthy in tow, Del Amitri and a famous Christmas double bill of The Shop Assistants and The Pastels. And always cropping up on the bottom of the bill were The Ten Million Quentins. The house band of The Big Twang. The baby band of The Big Twang were 14 Iced Bears, formed when a happy clique called The Dancing Boys went off, practiced briefly and emerged as a fully-formed twelve-week turnaround bouncing baby band.

I've posted this for reasons of serendipity, synchronicity and beautiful coincidence. Bored in work I decided to have a quick search for "Big Twang" and "June Brides". Just to see what might come up. What I found was a blog with a picture of myself 'on stage' at The Big Twang Mystery Tour. Twenty five years ago today. To the very day.

Veronica (Bat) Quentin, Janet Quentin, Me. December 15th 1985.

I've posted the video to YouTube before, but it seemed appropriate to liberate it again today for the Silver Jubilee of The Big Twang Mystery Tour. Thanks to Fruitier Than Thou Blog. Here's his review of the day: http://fruitierthanthou.blogspot.com/2008/08/magical-mystery-twang-with-clive-pig.html I hope he doesn't mind me lifting the picture. The picture of me with hair.

Next up, Hacienda DJ Graeme Park with a dyed blonde Human League comb-over and a matelot's jacket. Viva the 1980s.

Chemical Warfare.

2010-12-03T23:11:00.003Z

Jim Medway's Comical Animal web comic is finally upon us. An anthology dedicated to funny animal strips created by some of the finest comic artists currently pushing a pencil. And it's all free. And all ages. So go and read it. And let The Kids know about it. And if you are interested in Jim's reasons for producing this gem have a look at Kenny Penman's interview with him on the FPI blog. It's all about The Kids and choice and quality and all that other stuff that gets you hugging other grown-ups.

Cat Drug In.

2010-11-19T13:03:00.001Z

Spotted near Shudehill this morning. A very post-Bansky pussy. It's probably Felix gone viral.

Up Against The Wall XXIII - Chavs Suck.

2010-11-13T22:33:00.002Z

Writ large on the wall between the bridle path and the eastern side of Heaton Park: Chavs suck. Chad Sucks may have been more appropriate for such a bonny wall, but that's a very small joke only old twats like myself will get.

I Am Kurious Orange 7'' edit.

2010-11-13T11:16:00.001Z

Spotted. Another Curious George. This one in Stevenson Square on the side of a traffic bollard thingy. Nice use of the yellow. Off to Northwich Vics now. FCUM.

Pretty Polly.

2010-11-09T16:28:00.001Z

It's not every day somebody buys you a parrot, but for me today was the day. Meet Angry the Parrot. He was bought for me by Jan who I work with following an off-the-cuff remark that I needed something to protect my now-healing shoulder. Something like a parrot. In retrospect I hope it's not a sign that I'm going to break my leg. Or get poked in the eye.

Up Against The Wall XXII: Furry Bum.

2010-11-09T08:10:00.001Z

Annoyed by draconian rules that crush what little joy there is in walking the dog? Stick it to The Man with your indelible freezer pen. Then clean up the mess from your shit machine you anti-social twat.

Sweet and Tender Hooligan.

2010-11-06T21:15:00.049Z

Another game, another pitch invasion. Now that the dust has finally settled on Friday night's pulse-pounding, Earth-shattering, epoch-defining action (thanks to Stan Lee for the superlatives, a top, top red) we can brush ourselves down, stick the highlights DVD back on the shelf and start looking forward to the next round. The second round of the FA Cup. Way back on August 20th 2005, when me and that fella above went to our first FC game, it would have seemed a dream that just over five years later we'd be on the pitch celebrating victory over a team 95 league places above us. And what a victory; hard-fought, skillful, last-minute and, naturally, controversial. All those qualities are coded into the red DNA; some things were not left behind when we left Old Trafford in 2005. Passion, noise and a commitment to attacking football came with us. And thank god they did. You wouldn't expect the underdogs, having surrendered a two-goal lead, to carry on attacking. You'd forgive them for hoofing it into the stands; an additional money-spinning replay only 14 seconds away. But that's not the FC way. That's not the United way. And thank fuck for that.

Bloody Mary Morning.

2010-11-06T07:19:00.001Z

Sunday Morning Come-down. Or whatever that Willie Nelson song is called. I'll google it later. Out in Heaton Park early doors for a head clearer after last night's mentalism.

Guns before butter.

2010-11-05T15:40:00.002Z

The rights and wrongs of guns aside (mkay?) it's a pretty sad day when a 200 year-old shop goes to the wall. Farewell then to Stensbys of Shudehill, est. 1810.

I Am Kurious Oranj.

2010-11-05T11:27:00.001Z

Not sure why Curious George has been spray-painted onto a Tib Street electricity sub-station, but he sure is purdy!

Up Against The Wall XXI: Pete's Got A 2-inch Willy.

2010-11-03T17:29:00.002Z

From The Haunted Playground in Heaton Park. The only one of many I could publish. All the rest had some poor kid's mobile number attached.

More Songs About Chocolate and Girls #3: March 18th 1967.

2010-10-27T22:56:00.000+01:00

Another issue of Valiant, but this one has many more ads than the previous edition from 1965. Click on the images to get a larger version of most. Somewhere I have one of those Golden Wonder Peanut Club badges, and once I find the super space toffee tin full of badges I'll stick it on here.

Happy Birthday.

2010-10-25T19:47:00.001+01:00

Oops, late for the birthday post again. Just like last year. Having spent yesterday watch FC United progress to the first round proper (proper!) of the FA Cup by beating Barrer one-nil, I think I can be forgiven my memory lapse.

The only constant ingredient for these posts is that the title is the name of a song, something which some correspondents have spotted, so here is the annual round up. From the top:

The Streak - Ray Stevens.
Ebony and Ivory - Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.
How I Wrote Elastic Man - The Fall.
Pennies from Heaven - Al Bowly Festival.
Islands in the Stream - Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.
Between the Wars - Billy Bragg.
Nine to Five - Dolly Parton.
A Dazzling Array of Talent - Turbonegro.
Disco Inferno - Trammps.
Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice.
Into The White - Sonic Youth.
Holiday Hymn - Vic Goddard.
Chartered Trips - Husker Du.
Hurry Up Harry - Sham 69.
Mojo Kitty - The Dirtbombs.
Ca Plane Pour Moi - Plastic Bertrand.
YMCA - The Village People.
Candy Apple Grey - Husker Du.
Big Gold Dream - Fire Engines.
Everything's Gone Green - New Order.
The Book I Read - Talking Heads.
Gimme Shelter - The Rolling Stones.
Gordon's Not A Moron - Julie and Gordon.
Drinkin' Wine Spo Dee O Dee - Sticks McGhee.
Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow - The Rivingtons.
Hush - Deep Purple, but I favour Killdozer's cover of it.
Another Sunny Day - Belle and Sebastian.
Toadies - The Minute Men.
All Night Party - A Certan Ratio.
Part-time Punks - The Television Personalities.
Black to Comm - The MC5.
Smokestack Lightning - Howlin' Wolf.
There'll be Bluebirds etc - Dame Vera Liniment.
I'm Alive - The Hollies.
Cigarettes and Alcohol - The Bootles.
Swans - Camera Obscura.
We Are Phuture - Phuture.
Saturday's Kids - The Jam.
Up On The Roof - The Drifters.
Boredom - Buzzcocks.
Paper Plane - The Status Quo.
Toast - Streetband.
Stand Down Margaret - The Beat.
Jackie - Jacques Brel.
Smiley Smile - The Beach Boys.
Eat Yourself Fitter - The Fall.
Park Life - Blur.
Playground Twist - Siouxsie and The Banshees.
MacArthur Park - Richard and Anita Harris.
Parking Lot Blues - ESG.
Pretty Polly - The Byrds.
Lost Cause - Supercharger.
The Kids are alright - The Who.
Rock Lobster - The B-52s.
4D (Fourth Dimension) - The Byrds.
Uncle Joe's Mintballs - Mike Harding.
Time's Up - Buzzcocks.
Time Bomb High School - The Reigning Sound.
Meat Is Murder - The Smiths.
You Can't Get Good Riblets In Space - Man Or Astroman?
The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get - Morrissey.
When Harpo Played Her Harp - Jonathan Richman.
Slipped, Tripped and Fell In Love - Ann Peebles.
More Songs About Chocolate and Girls - The Undertones.
F is for Fake - The Sid Presley Experience.
Justified and Ancient - The KLF.
M.I.C.H.A.E.L. - The Man From Del Monte.
Mr. Blue Sky - The Electric Light Orchestra.
I Started A Joke - The Bee Gees.

Phew!

I Started a Joke.

2010-10-22T23:48:00.003+01:00

There was a news story today about some voting that went on somewhere, somehow, to come to a consensus about The Funniest Joke Of All Time. And a fairly funny piece of Tommy Cooper daftness won. Fair enough, but I told it to my kids and while they laughed at the idea of a bus driver calling a baby 'ugly', they barely raised an eyebrow at the punchline.

So, the joke that should have won it, as it's the starting point for nearly all kids, a joke so basic that every kid gets it; the joke which acts as training wheels for junior humour...

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Doctor.
Doctor Who?
That's right! How did you know?

and a variation...

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Doctor.
Doctor Who?
No, Doctor Doom, this is the Latverian Embassy, isn't it?

I'll be here all week, folks.

Mr. Blue Sky.

2010-10-17T20:53:00.001+01:00

Tintern Abbey, earlier today. A beautiful bright day and a location which was, surprisingly, less affected by cultural tourism than I would have expected. There was scarcely a sniff of old Billy Wordsworth.

More Songs About Chocolate and Girls #2: July 17th 1965.

2010-10-14T18:54:00.001+01:00

So here, as the second part of an occasional, continuing, series, are all the ads from Valiant, July 17th 1965. All three of them, and two-thirds using Gerry Anderson properties. Click on the adverts below for larger versions. More to follow.

M.I.C.H.A.E.L.

2010-10-14T18:16:00.000+01:00

Lucas. Happened upon this today, and as mentioned on its You Tube page, "If you like surf guitar, hillbillies, crusaders, poontang, or Highlander II, then this is the movie for you. It's a short documentary documenting the warped inspirations behind Michael Lucas's schtick bands." I totally missed out on The Knights of the New Crusade so will be exploring further...

Justfied and Ancient.

2010-10-11T11:59:00.022+01:00

Norton and Stockton Ancients 2 FC United of Manchester 5.
Seven goals, three pitch invasions, six quid on the gate, 200 pies in the club house, 1526 in the ground for NaSA's record attendance (beating the previous one for a friendly against Middlesbrough) and one police helicopter made this a fun day out for all the family. Well, me and the eldest, actually, and he was the one who went on the pitch, not me.

Apologies in advance for the quality of the behind-camera singing, neilboo will not be be getting a recording contract, but this video captures the day more or less perfectly.

F is for Fake.

2010-10-09T09:54:00.002+01:00

Top end of China Lane this morning. A leftover from the filming of the Captain America movie and timely (no pun intended) as I'm currently reading Men of Tomorrow, Gerard Jones' brilliant social history of the birth of the US comics industry.

More Songs About Chocolate and Girls #1. June 8th 1957.

2010-10-07T16:40:00.000+01:00

One of the many blog or website ideas I had and never carried through was one which would represent adverts from old comics, because I like that sort of thing. So here, as the first part of an occasional, continuing, series, are all the ads from Radio Fun #974, from June 8th, 1957. All two of them. More to follow.

Slipped, Tripped And Fell...

2010-09-20T23:46:00.002+01:00

I'm not a big fan of You Choob videos which are just a crappy gif animation of various photos and record sleeves, but I suspect that's how my blog posts are going to come across for a short while as I'm having to downscale. Why, you ask, why no lengthy posts of self-centred drivel? Well, it's not because I've seen the light and realised that I need to self-edit even more, and I'm not quite over-drawn at the crap metaphor bank yet. The simple reason is that I'm having to go 'Old Skool' and drop the touch-typing for a while. It's a major blow because I now think in touch-typing; I think something and like magic it immediately appears on the screen. Well, not immediately immediately, but compared to how slow I'm typing this blog post it may as well be at the speed of light.

And all because I ran for a stationary bus at the end of a lovely night out spent eating curry with people from an internet forum that I had walked away from a couple of years ago because the people on the forum were getting on my tits. Ran across a rain-soaked Lever Street in case it was about to leave*, then slipped, tripped and fell in the road. Ouch. I'm pretty sure I bounced. I was definitely sure right there and then that I'd dislocated my left shoulder as I reached out, on the deck, with my right hand and found a protuberance that wasn't usually there. Luckily for me a conscientious young couple saw what happened and got me sorted with an ambulance and a night on The Morphine. So many thanks to them, even though they will never read this (unless my life has more coincidental meetings than a Thomas Hardy novel).

So that's why I'm sitting here, arm in crap foam sling, having to look at the keyboard as I type. Slow as fuck. The magic gone

*For the record, it left several minutes later. I'm never going to run for a bus ever again.

When Harpo played her harp.

2010-09-13T12:29:00.011+01:00

cycm_rad11, originally uploaded by Course You Can Malcolm. Thanks to Russ.

It feels trite and slightly pretentious to post the lyrics to a song in response to an artistic experience but fuck it, you only live once and it's Jonathan Richman and he's never been one to compromise.

Saturday, Course You Can Malcolm, pre-match at Gigg Lane. You all know the drill by now. I've banged on about it enough; pre-match gig, bottled Holt's, earnest but dull band banging away with only their backline for amplification, tater hash, the sound of men. Always the sound of men. Except it all got swept away this weekend in a tide of female quietness; a wash of calm. To explain; the generic sound of Course You Can Malcolm is that 'rarrgh!' you hear when you open a pub door and everybody is trying to be heard over everybody else. A male chaos that overwhelms and blurts out to the world outside that it's over-warm, dark and smells of farts in here. Come in if you dare.

It threatened to overwhelm Rebecca Joy Sharp, Harpo and her harp, but a hand on the shoulder and a couple of quiet words calmed things, only the crash from the odd empty bottle of Thunderholt hitting the recycling bin momentarily broke the spell. Hand on the shoulder and a couple of quiet words stood at the entrance at the top of the stairs and made sure that anybody coming in was aware that the sound of men was on hold for twenty-two minutes.

She started with an instrumental and you could have heard a pin drop. It was a humbling, sobering experience. Okay, I'd had a couple of bottles of beer and the tendency for sentiment had been awakened, but it was a moving experience to hear such a fragile, beautiful sound in the beige-bricked corner of a football ground. She was, she said, determined to hold to the twenty-two minutes (a requirement for Course You Can Malcolm's main acts - one minute for each player on the pitch) as she'd never done that before, so she pre-ambled before starting her first song proper, on which she revealed her 'schtick', the delivery of meandering spoken-word lyrics in a gentle Glasgow accent. It was all very Belle and Sebastian, so when that band were name-dropped in the first song it all fell into place.

Twenty-two minutes was perfect. I have a very short attention-span and have, on many occasions, advocated half-an-hour as the ideal set length for any band. Context was also all; anywhere else and hand on the shoulder and a couple of quiet words wouldn't have happened and the drip, drip of conversation would have, inevitably, intruded.

Well when Harpo played his harp, it was a mystery
All the laughing stopped back to the balcony
Chico, Chico, sure to please
Now let's watch him shoot the keys
When Harpo would play his harp, all was still

When Harpo played his harp, it was a dream, it was
Well if someone else can do it, how come nobody does?
Groucho, Groucho, fast as light
Some talk like him but not quite
When Harpo would play his harp, all was still, still

Well Harpo Harpo
This is the angels and
where did you get that sound so fine?
Harpo Harpo
We gotta hear it
One more time

Harpo Harpo
We're in the galaxies and
where did you get that sound so fine?
Harpo Harpo
We gotta hear it
One more time

Do you remember what he would do sometimes before he played?
Well he'd look up to the sky and he'd look the angels' way
Harpo Harpo, when you start
Tears of joy inside my heart
Harpo would play his harp and all was still.

T H E E M I D N I T E R S - Love Special Delivery

2010-09-09T23:30:00.001+01:00

Why did nobody tell me about this band? You have all failed me. Friends. Media. Ears. Failed. All of you.

The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get.

2010-09-08T00:11:00.003+01:00

"Lead singer and quarterback from Sal Ford, Alan Clarke". A typical sound of my 60s/70s childhood was my parents shouting SALFORD! SALFORD! at the Finlandia when some BBC type had, yet again, mispronounced it. Not Sal Ford. Out of context and as part of an early 60s Hollies clip it sounds slightly exotic, but it's still weird the way the American fella deals with Blackpool, Nelson and Burnley but struggles with Salford. SALFORD! SALFORD! SALFORD!

You Can't Get Good Riblets In Space.

2010-09-01T13:04:00.002+01:00

You can't get good riblets in space., originally uploaded by mithering.

For once, atmospherics and astronomy have combined well in Manchester. The past two nights have seen clear skies for the night-time passing of The International Space Station which currently houses three Russian and three American astronauts. For these passings it has appeared in the southern sky, moving from west to east at quite a pace. Altogether it takes about three minutes to cross the night sky and is highly visible with the naked eye. Here's a picture I took of it using the 'night-time' slow-exposure setting on my digital camera. It's clear, but wobbly. Next time I'll use a tripod.

For information when to see it next, try Heavens Above, or follow @jodrellbank on Twitter for more locally-focussed knowledge.

Meat Is Murder.

2010-08-30T15:26:00.003+01:00

I'm sitting writing this at home when I should be at Hursts Cross to watch FC United of Manchester play Ashton United, particularly as I've enjoyed that ground and its friendly staff on previous visits, and FC are on fire at the moment, unbeaten in three and five one winners over Retford United last Saturday. The picture above is from that match, and is of my eldest son. He's been coming to FC with me since the first 'home' game in August 2005, and he now ballboys (is that a verb?) whenever he can. He's proud to be an FC fan, knows why we can't go to Old Trafford, and is developing a great understanding of all aspects of the game. Somebody recently remarked to me, on hearing that another fan's daughter was off to university, that 'the FC experience' had provided us with a group of confident, friendly and intelligent kids. He's right. When we finally move into Ten Acres Lane, the football ground and community facility we're raising funds to build in Newton Heath, I know it'll be in safe hands.

I was also 'doing my bit' on Saturday, selling vegetarian hotdogs in FC United's pre-match gig/club night / carnival, Course You Can Malcolm. It's always a bit of a mixed bag is Course You Can Malcolm; there's usually a local band playing, for free, a set which lasts twenty-two minutes, one minute for each player on the pitch. Except this week there wasn't, instead there was an excerpt from MAD Theatre Company's upcoming Thai Brides and Teacakes, and jolly good it was too. It's worth noting that we're no strangers to culture at Course You Can Malcolm, previous treats have included a Christmas Choir featuring members of the Halle, a mini-play featuring Early Doors' James Quinn and John Henshaw (see it here) and a troupe (if that's the right term) of belly-dancers. The whole point, though, apart from providing us all with a pre-match pub environment in the bowels of Gigg Lane complete with manly growling, is to raise funds for FC United. Which is why I was cooking Quorn in a kettle; the Carrot Corner Kettle mark two and The Eldest was getting piss wet-through chasing up and down the side of the pitch.

Thanks to Alistair Adams, one of our wonderful army of volunteer matchday photographers, for the picture. See more of his work at www.fcumania.co.uk

Time Bomb High School.

2010-08-24T22:49:00.001+01:00

booktemp1, originally uploaded by mithering.

We Never Learn. The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001 - Eric Davidson. A review.

It's fair to say that the vast majority of the bands featured in this book will mean next to nothing to 99% of the music-consuming publics, but for me it represents a confirmation that every dog eventually has its day. More so than seeing Urge Overkill or Sonic Youth on Top of the Pops - that was achieved through major label sponsorship and for those singles the pursuit of 'novelty', more so than the eventual arrival of John Waters' queer trash sensibilities smack in the middle of 'normal' culture - My High School Hairspray, anybody? It's almost not worth listing the bands or trying to codify an approach or rationale for their individual trajectories (always, always down, it must be said) because writer Eric Davidson is trying to lasso together a pool full of jerking, slipping, sliding electric eels.

To explain, this book is two things; a brief history of The New Bomb Turks, a great punk rock band from Columbus, Ohio who were mainly active in the 1990s, and the chronicling of a non-scene Davidson has seen fit to label Gunk Punk. To be fair, apart from a transparent rush to the end of the book when it seems he's not really all that interested in the bands he is writing about but his professionalism demands that they are highlighted, it is the only time he is wrong-footed. One can only assume that Gunk Punk, a non-term, came from an editorial / publishing decision intended to give Joe Public a label to attach to this motley bunch of scenes, bands, towns, promoters, labels, fanzines, arseholes, losers, smackheads and drunks.

That's the small print out of the way; the book itself is magnificent. Well, magnificent in the way that a book about DIY bands on tuppeny ha'penny labels in Buttfuck, Minnesota can be. It's extremely comprehensive - I was mired in this scene in the early 90s, publishing four issues of Moral Sense, a fanzine which had (mainly) US garage punk running throught its veins, and I've been hard-pressed to find many glaring omissions or playings down of reputation (personally, I'd like to have seen a tiny bit more about The Phantom Surfers who, despite playing surf music, personify the fun, stupid, basic approach which characterises much of this music). All the 'major' players are either interviewed or mentioned; Gories, Oblivians, Supercharger, Estrus Records, The Mummies, Supersuckers, In The Red, The Devil Dogs, Crypt Records, The Gibson Brothers, The Dwarves ... oops, I promised no list-making was necessary.

Davidson highlights the influence of the Back from the Grave compilations of the trashier end of the 60s US garage punk scene and their 70s counterparts, Killed By Death, on the bands he has written about and its clear that those compilations, along with the economic reality of not being able to afford the good studios or slick producers, contributed to the bluntness of a lot of this music. It's also clear that most of the good stuff was in the past by the time there was a 'garage' boom fuelled through NME coverage in the earlier part of the century. Distance from the roots led to a lot of pretty weak stuff masquerading as garage, or the lionising of fairly unoriginal (and that in a scene where non-originality could sometimes be regarded a badge of honour) bands who would previously have been confined to the backwaters.

Anyhow, you can judge for yourself to a degree, because there's a free twenty-song download with this book which includes some great stuff. The book also has an index; Lucas, Michael - tick, Long Gone John - tick, White, Jason - tick, Balcarcel, Raul - not included. The greatest band of all in that scene, the never-missed Fingers are relegated to footnote status in an interview with Jason 'Sheer Filth' White. There are also lists of the best fifty singles and the best one hundred LPs (surely it should have been the other way round) and while Davidson misses a trick (again) by omitting The Fingers from the singles list, he makes up for it by confirming that, of the fifty listed, the best of all is 'Teenage Love Bomb' by Australian slop-kings The Dirty Lovers.

Buy it.

THE GORIES (final show) "Ghostrider"

2010-08-19T12:26:00.000+01:00

I've nearly finished reading Eric Davidson's 'We Never Learn' and will review it over the next couple of days. In the meantime, and as a follow up to the Supercharger interview 'reprinted' earlier. Here's a piece from the final days of Detroit's magnificent Gories written for Moral Sense magazine by co-conspirator, Mr. Richard Hector-Jones. Thanks also to www.waynecountyramblin.com for the video of the band in action.

Archive Interview With Dan Kroha From Detroit City’s The Gories

The Gories hail from Motor City itself, Detroit. To us Limeys, there are not many other places above it for Rock'n'Roll romance. The Stooges, The MC5, Tamla Motown, Derrick May, Underground Resistance... the list goes on.

These Gories fit tastily in with Detroit's finest, these sick little puppies play the rockinest, sexiest, most primitive rhythm and blues this sinner has heard. Just check out Outta Here (Crypt Records LP) to know that I'm not telling you lies. Like Jack O'Fire, they never even consider music as anything other than soul.

Moral Sense contacted Dan Kroha (rhythm guitar/vocalist) and pushed him for dope on the band, Detroit and any other stuff we needed to know. The only other knowledge you need is that Mick plays the lead guitar (in pure righteousness) and sings, while Sister Peg plays the traps in a style so primal it's XXX obscene. Well, she did, but that's all to come.

So, is Detroit the town we think it is?

"Detroit is a lively town and it has its scenes. There are tons of bands here, just not that many you or I would dig. There's a big cheese-o metal scene. Whatever's big on MTV is big in Detroit for the most part."

But what about its rocking history, after all the town has nurtured?

"To get an idea of how MC5/Stooges were perceived at the time, you have to listen to Frijid Pink, Frost, Grand Funk Railroad and other Michigan bands who were big at the time, cos only then do you realise exactly how OUT THERE The Stooges and MC5 were."

Yeah, you do take their importance for granted when you see them out of context.

"People throw around the names because they've become cool. But you know The Stooges didn't get any airplay then. At least 'Kick Out The Jams' was a local hit, but it didn't take long for MC5 to get dropped by Elektra and decide to clean up their act for Atlantic. Don't get the impression Detroit is empty, it's just there are vacant patches. A lot of cooler bands seem to skip playing Detroit altogether. They get a better crowd in Ann Arbor (a rich college town about 45 minutes away). The Blues Explosion did pretty well there but only attracted a few people here. Same with The Gibson Brothers and '68 Comeback.

"The Gories did a gig a few years back opening for The Gibson Brothers. Jon Spencer was with them. After we'd played, Jon came up and raved (though Jon doesn't really rave) about our set, saying we were the coolest thing he'd seen in a long time. I booked them a gig the next night in Detroit and they said, 'No way are we following you guys on stage, we'll go on first'. It sucked because no one was there, but it was fun.

"I've seen The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion a couple of times, and they're rockin'. That Extra Width LP is great! This young girl came up to Jon after their Detroit gig and asked him how did he get so much soul. He said he sucked a lot of black cock, but I'm sure he'd choke on any cock, black or white! That girl had obviously never heard a Stax record. Dig?"

Finally on Detroit, is there really a Stooges museum?

"Apparently there is a Stooges museum at Ann Arbor, where the Asheton Brothers are from (Stooges' drummer and guitarist, Scott and Ron). I've never been to it. It's just some guy who has a house with a bunch of Stooges stuff in it, I guess. Maybe a wax likeness of Iggy and a pair of silver elbow length gloves. I asked Barry Henssler, singer with Big Chief about it, and he wouldn't give me a straight answer."

So what's The Gories story? How did you get fixed up with Alex Chilton (of Big Star, Box Tops fame)?

"The story goes, a friend of ours from Detroit was travelling down South to do some research for a film he wanted to make. He saw Alex in a club down there in Alabama or something and ended up hanging out with him after the show. They were somewhere with a tape player and our friend Dan played him a tape of The Gories and he flipped over it. "Who's that?" Alex goes. Dan goes "It's some friends of mine from Detroit" and Alex said "Here's my number. Have someone from the band get in touch with me. I think I can help them out". So Dan tells me about it, I call Alex, and the first thing he says is 'Who's your drummer?' That's pretty prophetic because he's living with her now. So anyway, Alex loved The Gories from the word go. He said, 'I think you guys would go over well in Europe, I want to help you get a record out over there.' He was already doing records for New Rose, so he talked to the head man there about getting a Gories LP out produced by him. I think if Alex's name was not going to be on it, New Rose would never have done it."

Soon, things turned for the worst.

"We signed a one LP deal with them, drove down to Memphis, got our $6000 advance and recorded. I'm glad we recorded it fast cos we had $1000 left over, which we split between us. That was the only money we saw from New Rose. We were really excited about it at first because The Lyres, The Cramps, Real Kids etc had all recorded for New Rose. They promised us a tour over there, and we thought we were on our way. Of course, the tour never happened. The LP was impossible to find in the USA and if you could find it, the price was outrageous."

Fortunately, the good people at Crypt are reissuing the first two Gories LPs so hopefully the matter will be remedied to an extent. Further more, it gives the public at last the chance to listen to some classic supercharged garage punk.

So what are The Gories up to at the moment?

"No one has officially replaced Peg, although I have been teaching a friend, Christine, a few Gories tunes. The person who replaces Peg has got to be taught that style. No one who already knows how to play drums can do it. There are no new records yet. Mick's doing a lot of writing and is a big fan of comic books. He wants to put out his own, but writes many stories for others. He has ideas for at least four different bands at any one time. He's an ideas man with a highly developed imagination."

With The Gories on the back burner, what are you up to at the moment?

"Well, there's the Demolition Doll Rods, the brain child of my friend Margaret who plays rhythm guitar and writes all the songs in that band. She thought up the whole idea, band name, instrumentation, me as a girl. It's kind of modelled after The Gories which is one of her favourite bands. I play lead guitar and wear Margaret's clothes. She's not big, I'm just small. It's her sister I'm teaching to play drums in the same way Mick taught Peg."

Finally, what is of most importance to you and the esteemed Gories?

"Well, things that will be obvious to any true garage band. Play what you like and fuck what people think, don't try to follow trends. If you feel behind the times stick with it, cos trends inevitably come back round and you'll look like you were ahead of the times all along. Musically, I prefer old guitars and old tube amps that don't have master volumes, then FRY THOSE POWER TUBES!! (That's valves to you Brits)."

Words from the wise cos like I said at the start, The Gories rule.

Richard Hector-Jones

Rocket From The Crypt - On A Rope.

2010-08-17T13:03:00.000+01:00

I'm still working my way through Eric 'New Bomb Turks' Davidson's 'We Never Learn', the story of a web of vaguely-connected DIY music scenes, bands, venues and shakers I had loose involvement with in the early 90s. Once I've read it, I'll try to post a review. In the meantime, here's a Top of the Pops appearance by Rocket From The Crypt. I was in Spain when this was on TV. I know this for sure because I had tickets to see them in Madrid on the Friday night. The show was mysteriously pulled at the last minute due to 'venue problems'. Next day, I bought a copy of The Guardian and saw in the TV listings that the previous night's live edition of Top of the Pops was due to be repeated that lunchtime, complete with an appearance by Speedo and The Gang. Bastards.

Up Against The Wall XX: Morgan is a lesbian with Katrina. Yeh.

2010-08-16T23:36:00.001+01:00

Up Against The Wall XX: Morgan is a lesbian with Katrina. Yeh., originally uploaded by mithering.

From the playground next to Bala's ground. Is Morgan a 'boy' name or a 'girl' name?

Time's Up.

2010-08-07T14:40:00.001+01:00

Kick-off in Bala has been delayed for half an hour for no apparent reason.

Uncle Joe's Mint Balls.

2010-08-07T10:04:00.001+01:00

Woohoo! Yay! Off to another FC United pre-season friendly. Another Euro away at Bala Town in Wales. Mints bought.

4D (Fourth Dimension).

2010-08-06T11:14:00.001+01:00

Been meaning to post this for a while; an appropriately gimmicky tribute to Frank Sidebottom. 3D picture in shop window with the glasses taped to the glass. I'm sure he would have approved.

Rock Lobster.

2010-08-05T15:08:00.001+01:00

This is where Lobstera retired to after ravishing Dawn Davenport in John Waters' Desperate Living - Gulliver's World in Warrington. Pinky and Perky are also here, but more about them soon.

Up Against The Wall XIX: Toe Rag.

2010-08-05T00:00:00.001+01:00

Toe Rag., originally uploaded by mithering.

No, this is not the door plate for the London recording studio where the Saturn V Featuring Orbit recorded their "Behind Closed Doors At A Recording Session" 7", instead it's some random graffiti on Copperas Street in Manchester and a much-neglected insult.

The Kids are alright.

2010-07-31T14:46:00.001+01:00

Very handy coned zone for gamers behind Stalybridge Station buffet bar.

Lost Cause.

2010-07-29T13:25:00.003+01:00

A few hundred years ago I used to do a fanzine called Moral Sense with a chap called Richard Hector-Jones. We wrote a lot about what we called Garage Punk, but which also went by a few other names including Budget Rock, Lo-Fi and Totally Shitty Music. Now, heavens above, somebody has written a book about it, We Never Learn: The Gunk Punk Undergut. Where he gets Gunk Punk from, I'll leave until I've finished the book as it's a term I'd never heard before the book came out. What it did make me think, though, was that people might want to read interviews with some of the bands in the book. So, here, from Moral Sense issue three, is an interview with Supercharger, Daly City, CA's sultans of shite. I hope you enjoy it. There's more.

Rev it up and go with... Supercharger

It all seemed simplicity in itself. One of Moral Sense's most trusted Gentleman Agents had found himself taking a break in the fair German city of Berlin. After he had unpacked his shooting stick and plus fours he found that two of the New World's finest Garage Punk bands, Supercharger and The Mummies, were entertaining the troops at the oddly-named Knaap Club. Putting through a call to headquarters he requested whether an interview with these American entertainers might be in order. We readily agreed and drank a toast to him with the finest matured Highland whisky that very night. It was here that things began to go rather awry

"HEY MORAL SENSE. THIS IS GREG OF SUPERCHARGER. YOU GUYS NEED TO GET ONE THING STRAIGHT, I AM RIP OFF RECORDS, NOT DARIN, I PLAY BASS, NOT DARIN. AND ALL THE ANSWERS THAT YOU TRANSCRIBED AND CREDITED TO DARIN, ARE ACTUALLY ME, AND VICE VERSA. YOU GUYS FUCKED UP BIG TIME.

Needless to say, when we received that response from Mr. Greg Lowery, bass guitarist for Supercharger, and the man behind Rip Off Records, we were mightily shamed. Suspicious that Gentleman Agent JW001's answers were a tad on the brief side we had sent a radio-telegram to the United States of America in the hope of receiving more information. What we didn't expect was confirmation that this Gentleman Agent had 'slacked out', neglecting his claret and cigars for a sordid entanglement with the tawdry narcotics of the stinking hippy crash-pad scene.

Furthermore, the whole world had gone into a state of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome with the news that The Mummies' apparent reformation for a tour of the spas of Europe had only been for what was understood to be a skipful of bandages and rather a lot of liniment, if one knows what one means, after which they were all due back at their ancestral tombs. In the meantime, a second LP now under their belts, Supercharger imploded.

"IN REGARDS TO THE BREAKUP, WELL IT IS LONG AND COMPLEX, BUT I WILL TRY. THERE ARE SEVERAL REASONS FOR US BREAKING UP, THE FIRST WAS DARIN'S RELUCTANCE TO PLAY LIVE, AND HIM BASICALLY DESPISING JUST ABOUT EVERYONE WHO SAID THEY WERE FANS, THINKING THEY WERE JUST SAYING THAT TO JUMP ON THE BANDWAGON. HE ALSO WANTED TO BREAK UP THE BAND ALMOST FROM THE BEGINNING, SAYING WE WERE A JOKE AND ALL. BUT THE FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN WAS DARIN ACTING LIKE A TOTAL ASSHOLE OVER IN EUROPE, TRYING TO SHOW OFF IN FRONT OF THE MUMMIES AND ALL. SO THAT WAS THAT. I KNEW HE WANTED TO BREAK IT UP, AND THIS WAS HIS WAY OF MAKING SURE IT WAS DONE. SO THAT'S THE STORY. IN REGARDS TO YOUR OTHER QUESTION IF WE STILL TALK TO EACH OTHER, ME AND KAREN DO OBVIOUSLY, DARIN AND KAREN ARE STILL FRIENDS, BUT I TOTALLY DESPISE DARIN FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE TO OUR BAND, AND OUR FRIENDSHIP, SO FUCK HIM".

So, let this interview stand as an epitaph for Supercharger. Let those who come after take heed - Supercharger rocked. They rocked shabbily, but they fuckin' rocked.

"IN REGARDS TO THE FIRST ALBUM, WE RECORDED IT WITHOUT EVER PLAYING LIVE OR BEING INVOLVED IN ANY SCENE. ME AND DARIN STARTED THE BAND, AND NEEDED A DRUMMER IN JANUARY 1991. SO WE ASKED KAREN, WHO WAS/IS (Furnote: ISN'T) MY GIRLFRIEND. (GREG, NOT DARIN). SHE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT, BUT SHE CAME TO PLAY A COUPLE OF TIMES AND LIKED IT, TOOK A MONTH'S WORTH OF LESSONS, AND AFTER A MONTH WE STARTED RECORDING THE FIRST LP. DARIN AND MYSELF WERE PLAYING FOR ONLY A COUPLE OF MONTH'S BEFORE".

Mr. Angry, Karen Singletary, Donny Denim.

Gentleman Agent JW001's questions and answers begin here, any clues as to his whereabouts would be appreciated - he was last seen hitting the Hippy Trail to go 'find himself' in one of those places where nice white boys go.

Do you get out of Daly City often?

"We play San Francisco about once a month - every six weeks - any more would be like tonight, y'know, audience totally bored", said Greg.

So do you have dayjobs then?

"Yeah, yawned Greg, "I sell motorboats, Darin is a brain surgeon".

And Karen?

"Karen is a drug-runner - she smuggles drugs in children's diapers".

So where did you come up with the name Supercharger?

"Well", whined Darin, "I wanted to be called The Superchargers, but was outvoted by Greg and Karen. Greg said 'Supercharger'".

Moral Sense later ascertained that a Supercharger is kind of like our very own Hot Wheels racing track, and is also part of a horseless carriage. What would these mechanically minded young folk be getting up to once they got back to the land of Mom's Apple Pie?

"Well, I'm kind of excited 'cos my new label should be just about ready to go", gushed Greg, "I'll be home in about two weeks, and should be putting out a one-sided 7" by The Statics soon after".

As this was a double-headed tour with The Mummies, it had to be asked whether Supercharger, too, hated CDs?

"Yeah, well", decided Greg, "we don't hate them that much. I used to have one, but I don't like 'em anymore. The real beauty of vinyl is the hunting for something really rare and just holding it in your hands. You don't get that with CDs".

Are there any bands out there who deserve The Supercharger Seal of Approval in the same way that The Mummies championed yourselves and The Fingers for a while?

"No!! It's the other way around", snorted Greg, "too many bands getting the attention they don't deserve. I see a lot of bands, and the majority of them suck. It's not like I'm saying we don't but I just don't like it".
It appears you don't like much, so who do you hate?

"Hmmm", pondered Greg, "besides each other, we hate everybody. We are a Punk Rock band, we have to hate everybody".

Provoked by this I leapt on the path of low-rent cheap and sleazy journalism by asking them who their favourite fuck was.

"Well I could bet in trouble for this", said Darin, "so I'd better say Danielle".

"I don't want to sound romantic and say definitely Karen", contradicted Greg.

"Actually, she was my favourite too", interrupted Darin, "probably yours, too".

So, besides Karen reading this, what's your biggest fear?

"Oh, I dunno, probably running out of money in Germany", decided Darin.

"Yeah", grinned Greg, "an earthquake happens and a bridge falls. That's my biggest fear, and it's already happened".

Did the split single with The Fingers ever happen?

"No!"

Oh, okay, then you don't mind me asking about another band? What's Raul Balcarcel from The Fingers up to?

"Ha ha ha!", laughed Darin, "He's up to no good - he just kind of turns up, but he seems to have a lot of fur.

Shane is starting a new band, though".

Right then, you are a punk rock band. If it came to a fight between you and The Mummies, who would win?

"Well, there's four of them and only three of us, but I guess Karen could take on two of them, which would kind of even things out", decided Darin.

"Basically we're wimps", interjected Greg, diplomatically.

So, would you win?

"The Mummies would", he concluded.

"No way, I can't see it happening", disagreed Darin.

Have you any message for your legions of UK fans who were denied a visit?

"HAHAHA! What fans?", asked Greg, "I'd have to say buy some real records and then you wouldn't have to like us".

And finally, your thoughts for the day, gentlemen?

"I guess I just want to shit on the ledge", snickered Darin in reference to the great German plumbing system which forces you to savour your load before flushing.

And Greg?

"I'd just like to say that Germany sucks and Berlin is the ugliest city I've ever been in".

Auf wiedersehen, pet.

With thanks to Gentleman Joe Wilson who used to sit on stage with Mr Ray's Wigworld.

Sonic Youth 11/08/85 Brighton Beach 3. Making The Nature...

2010-07-27T16:15:00.000+01:00

I was at this, but I don't recall it being so much fun. From what I can remember, as the band had their backs to the land the sound just drifted out to sea. It was freezing cold and there were only a couple of hundred people there. The next year it as much sunnier and much busier and I went down intending to see That Petrol Emotion in support of Sonic Youth, but they'd been replaced by Psychic TV so I ended up wandering home.

Pretty Polly.

2010-07-17T13:26:00.002+01:00

Sometimes words are enough.

Pictures of Match Stick Men VI.

2010-07-15T12:58:00.002+01:00

Vacant Lot., originally uploaded by mithering.

As promised in an earlier posting, here's the lonely monster who appeared at the back of a fenced-off vacant lot on Spear Street in Manchester. He's a nice little fella, but he's started to peel off now. Not sure who the artist is who influenced it, but a work colleague thought it looks like something from a Miyazaki cartoon.

Parking Lot Blues.

2010-07-14T13:07:00.002+01:00

Football Car Park Full., originally uploaded by mithering.

Gazza's tears had not even dried on Raoul Moat's discarded England flag when it was time to begin again with the first FC United pre-season friendly against Sutton A.F.C. of the Central Midlands League. It was a trip which The Eldest and I did not think we'd be making given that first the FC United supporters' Boogie Bus had been cancelled due to lack of interest, followed a week later by the same thing happening to 'The Official Coach'. In the end it was pointed out that we could take a train to Alfreton, followed by a bus to Sutton, from where we find a way to the ground.
A hiccup (i.e. the usual incompetence) with the Metrolink system meant no tickets at Heaton Park station, followed by ten minutes waiting around to be told that there were no trams, followed by a stop-start trip on the 135 and a dash up to Piccadilly for the train did not make for a relaxing journey. Tickets, comic and sweets bought I went to the cashpoint. Not working. No cashpoint in Piccadilly Station was working. All of which was compounded by the discovery, at Heaton Park, that my mobile had also decided to pack in for the day.
No worries, we would get some money at the station in Alfreton. After a pleasant enough journey through Derbyshire and Yorkshire we got off at Alfreton to discover that the station was smaller than a garage forecourt Wild Bean Cafe, with nothing other than a window from which to buy tickets, and virtually in the middle of nowhere. We headed up the hill towards 'Town Centre', which we eventually found half an hour or so later. Having negotiated a High Street full of Shop-Mobility scooters and over-zealous born-again Christians we found a working cashpoint and headed for the bus station. "Head towards Home Bargains, then go left". Back on track we took the first of the three buses towards Sutton, the slow one as it turned out and a real locals' bus.
Having reached Sutton we needed to find our way to the town's premier Wetherspoons establishment, The Picture House, where I had arranged to meet my brother in order to get a lift up to the ground. I scanned the faces outside the shopping centre and spotted three teenage girls with a buggy. An established part of the Wetherspoons demographic. They quickly pointed us in the right direction and the next thing we knew we were sitting in there enjoying a plate of nachos and watching Sutton's finest brains attempt to negotiate with a 'Use other door sign'. Oddly for Wetherspoons in a strange town there wasn't a sniff of an FC shirt or scarf. I slightly panicked and wondered out-loud if we weren't in completely the wrong town. It wasn't outside the realms of possibility given our journey and the auto-pilot way in which I'd undertaken it. Naturally, just when I'd bought another pint, Our Kid turned up.

At the ground we found out that there was a cricket match going on on alongside the football ground. Somebody had already been there with a black, white and red reminder as to why most of us were there in the first place. For the record, the home side, Mansfield Hosiery Mills Cricket Club, lost to Caythorpe.

Once in the ground (£5 for me, The Eldest waved in for free) we found the type of pitch which I thought we would have been playing on five years ago back in the Moore and Co Construction Solicitors North West Counties League Division Two, on a huge slope and covered in clover. The crowd, as it turned out, wasn't bad with just under 300 there according to Sutton's own report. The football was rudimentary. Sutton had an extraordinary number of giant players, something exasperated by FC United's squad of shortarses, but they also lumbered around like they were carrying sacks of golden goose eggs so were easily manoeuvred around by the fleet-footed red shirts. Our new striking dynamo, Mike Norton, missed a worrying amount of chances including the one above and looks a bit rusty.
FC went in at half time two up thanks to goals from potential new boy Martin Parker and last season's top player, Jake Cotterell. (I say went in, but they actually all stayed on the pitch as the changing rooms were shared and currently being used for the cricket match over the road). Over the road, was also where you went to get a pint. Out of the ground, over the road, into The Pavilion and up to the bar where they were doing a lovely guest ale at £2.36 a pint, then back out of The Pavilion, over the road and back into the ground.

The Pavillion was being readied for the innings break when we headed in at half-time. What you can see above is the childrens' party-like spread waiting for the Mansfield Hosiery and Caythorpe teams. It contributed to an overall sense of pragmatic Englishness of the day. Although that could have been the effects of the bitter. FC ended up winning by four, with second-half goals from Norton (Penalty) and Roca (tap-in).

I'd been intending to marry away trips with some birdwatching activity, which I was then going to post on here. As it is, I don't think we saw much of anything bar a large brown moth, so instead here's the mascot for Sutton AFC, the mighty Snipe.

Budget for the day for me and The Eldest (not including drinks): Bus fare from Prestwich to town and back again: £5.70, train fare to Alfreton and back: £15.65, bus fare from Alfreton to Sutton £4.05, big plate of Nachos: £4.29, ticket in: £5, lift back to Alfreton from Our Kid: £0. Total cost for day: £34.69.

People Take Pictures of Each Other #5 - Buzzcocks - Why She's A Girl From The Chain Store

2010-07-13T23:49:00.000+01:00

More Mancunian 80s interiors and exteriors. This time round, it's the old Lewis's Department Store that takes centre stage. This video was filmed in 1980 at the time when the TV and Hi-Fi department was in the basement. Some of the video was filmed on the ground floor as you can see a bus go past outside on Market Street where Market Street tram stop is now. There's some filming outside in that same area. Best of all though are the stairs into the basement; still as bold as brass in those days. Not had the chance to look in there since TK Maxx moved out of the basement. That's Linder Sterling 'behind the till', btw, and does anybody know which nightclub they end up in?

MacArthur Park.

2010-07-06T08:22:00.002+01:00

So bye bye Central Library for the next four years (or so). Probably the last big refurbishment to get under the funding gate for a few years. And while we're at it, au revoir for the same time period to The Library Theatre who are also (logically) moving out. First to take up an itinerant position at The Lowry and then on to the only opportunity better than moving into a scrubbed-up Central Library. Their very own space at another (if not THE) Grand Dame of Manchester theatre taking advantage of a heritage make-over, The Theatre Royal on Peter Street; better known these days as the avoid-at-all-costs Discotheque Royale. It's good to see one of Manchester's 'survivor' buildings, having avoided the 60s and 70s bulldozer-fest, buck the recent trend for turning everything into mal-shaped flats or unaffordable, cloned-from-head office hotel rooms. That the same dignity could not be afforded to The Free Trade Hall or The Old Fire Station is a real shame and, in terms of the former, two fingers from Manchester city Council to the historical and political importance of a building built on the bloodied fields of Peterloo.

Playground Twist.

2010-07-02T16:11:00.006+01:00

Playground Twist., originally uploaded by mithering.

The video above is the view from inside this:

The oft-photographed Giant Slide in Heaton Park.

Up Against The Wall XVIII - Suck on Ya titties.

2010-07-01T16:41:00.001+01:00

Up Against The Wall XVIII - Suck on Ya titties., originally uploaded by mithering.

Not had an Up Against The Wall for a couple of months. This one is from Spear Street in Manchester. There's also a great piece of street art just down from it, in a vacant lot, which I'll post soon.

Parking Lot Blues.

2010-06-29T13:00:00.001+01:00

Parking Lot Blues., originally uploaded by mithering.

Spotted outside Salford Museum and Art Gallery on Saturday morning. Described by Maria Who Sits In Front Of Me as "The last bastion of respect". The parking space had been left empty.

Kicker Conspiracy - Day Sixteen.

2010-06-27T22:52:00.043+01:00

We came across this fella on the way back from our post-Doctor Who visit to Heaton Park on Saturday night. It was in the grounds of the St. Margaret's Community Centre on St. Margaret's Road in Prestwich. Going to the park so late with the kids wasn't something I'd done before and only happened because I was in such a jolly mood following Doctor Who that when The Youngest suggested it, I bit. Based on previous early-morning archaeological experience of the kind of stuff that got left in the playground I anticipated a late visit would yield an army of sullen teens, and primed the kids to expect it. Instead, there was a healthy number of families still using the site.

We left the playground bit at nine and, at The Youngest's prompting headed off down towards the (closed) Farm Centre and beyond that, The Haunted Passage. On the way back up The Wobbly Path I suggested to the kids that if they stopped screaming and yelping they might see something special, like a fox or a hedgehog or, at worse, some rabbits. They duly obliged, but we saw nothing until, skirting The Commonwealth Games Bowling Green, The Eldest spotted five baby rabbits on the bank at the edge of the supposed community facility. We doubled back from the way we were going and, through some expert creeping, got as near as we could to the little fellas.

Kicker Conspiracy Day Fifteeen

2010-06-26T20:25:00.002+01:00

Yesterday, Heywood Road, Prestwich.

Park Life (Nights)

2010-06-26T20:22:00.001+01:00

Heaton Park right now. Join us.

Eat Yourself Fitter.

2010-06-25T14:05:00.001+01:00

Eat Yourself Fitter., originally uploaded by mithering.

I work with this bloke called Barry who is legendary within the office for creating fantastic meals with the minimum of equipment. He once used a microwave oven and a kettle to cook trout stuffed with watercress and watercress sauce and buttered noodles. Above is his dinner from yesterday; stuffed pasta and pesto, rocket, water cress and tomato salad and, for pudding, fresh stawberries and mango. It smelled delicious.

People Take Pictures of Each Other #4 - Chris Sievey and the Freshies: Dancin' Doctors

2010-06-21T19:47:00.002+01:00

More great old footage of 'town', but this time with a sad subtext. I heard today that Chris Sievey has passed away. He'd recently revealed that he had cancer, and it obviously got a lot worse very quickly. Most people know him from his papier mache-headed alter ego, Frank Sidebottom, who I had the fortune to see a few times. Most memorably supporting Jonathan Richman at The Town and Country Club in London, where he came into the crowd after he'd played and never once came out of character. Most recently when he supported The Phantom Surfers in Wigan and came on stage with them for the encore of 'Sheena Was A Punk Rocker' (that's what they recorded it as). I never got the chance to see The Freshies, as I was exiled in Lincolnshire when they were in their pomp, and the one and only time our timetables converged was the night they were due to play at The Beach Club and it either burnt or closed down. I have bad form for that kind of thing, later having the same experience with The Living Room in London which I went to the week after it was raided and closed down. Ho hum. Enjoy the footage, ropey as it is, and enjoy Chris without his papier mache head on.

Kicker Conspiracy - Day Nine.

2010-06-20T22:41:00.001+01:00

Sorry little News of the World flag., originally uploaded by mithering.

"Sorry little News of the World flag." Spotted today by Mr. Jay Taylor on Lytham Road, West Point, Levenshulme, Manchester, M19.

Send them in folks.

Saw another one yesterday, near Prestwich Metrolink Station and another one today looking down on the famous Simister Island interchange of M60, M62 and M66 on our way back from Same Yet in Simister.

Kicker Conspiracy - Day Eight: Encore

2010-06-19T16:31:00.001+01:00

We're back in The Republik and on the 96, so here's this morning's other lost and forlorn flag. The weather is much nicer on this side of the Pennines.

Smiley Smile

2010-06-19T14:16:00.001+01:00

Sitting in a coffee shop in York station with Smiler here. Coffee came in what was essentially a soup bowl with a tiny handle on it.

Jackie.

2010-06-19T13:03:00.001+01:00

Jackie Charlton doing the crossword in The Daily Express. I think it was the quick one, but I can't say for sure.

Stand Down Margaret.

2010-06-19T10:49:00.001+01:00

At the National Railway Museum in York. Somebody has 'done' Thatcher, and the tape suggests it may be a regular thing.

Toast.

2010-06-19T09:22:00.001+01:00

Me and The Youngest are off to York filled with industrial strength cheese on toast from Rustica in The Science Quarter of MCR. The Train Guard has just told me that Jackie Charlton is in the front carriage of the train, but he's wrong as Wor Jackie is sitting two seats in front of us.

Kicker Conspiracy: Day Eight.

2010-06-19T09:03:00.001+01:00

After days of nowt it only takes a draw with Algeria to expose the citeh side of Ingerlund's support.

Paper Plane.

2010-06-19T08:03:00.001+01:00

Spotted yesterday near The Bridge With No Name. Nice to see that despite Manchester's intensive cultural offer some still like to spend their time chucking paper planes out of hotel windows.

Boredom.

2010-06-17T11:42:00.002+01:00

Bdum bdum. If there's one thing worse than school sportsday it's school sportsday in the blazing sun. I'm not made for it. Genetically, at best, I'm mongrel northern European. It's why I can't won't don't do festivals unless I have full backstage access and a lift out of there (those were the days). I've ended up sitting, alone, in the only strip of shade available. Like Billy Casper stuck outside the headmaster's office in Kes. What would really help right now is a nice cold beer. I need to get on that PTA and start suggesting stuff.

Update: Burnt the top of me blithering bonce, didn't I? Also blazing sunshine meant I missed that I'd included a bit of my finger in the photo. I took the photo to try to find out what the blue (or pink - I'm colour blind) flower is. Anybody know?

Up On The Roof.

2010-06-16T21:30:00.001+01:00

Black Redstart, originally uploaded by Sergey Yeliseev.

Not blogged (or, indeed, tweeted) about birds for a while. There are two reasons for this; first, work is taking up a lot of my mental capacity at the moment so the mooching and thinking I usually do before posting (honestly, I do) are not happening. Secondly, work is in a different place, which means I'm no longer getting my three mornings a week cutting through Peel Park and skirting The Irwell into town. Which means no Kingfishers since just after Christmas. I've picked up a short walk along The Irwell slightly further towards town past Strangeways and usually walk up to Wellington Bridge. It's a good site for spotting Grey Herons and the Goosanders who were with us until a month ago hung out there and up towards Broughton Bridge. Oh, and the Grey Wagtails, but I've not seen much unusual along there. It's also a bit too secluded and slightly seedy; broken bottles, burger boxes and condoms are pretty common, but at least the resident tramp seems to now know I'm down there for a good reason and we're on nodding terms. And on a positive note I found a fiver on the other side of the subway on Friday. I hope he didn't drop it...

As mentioned, work is now somewhere else. That being the corner of Lever Street and Faraday Street, where the streets are named after scientists and somewhere up there is a black redstart that refuses to show himself when I have bins in hand. At other times, I've seen a bird on top of a television aerial singing, and the song is the appropriate one, but until I get a proper view I'm not counting him.

In the meantime, thanks to Sergey Yeliseev on flickr for his great rooftop pic of a juvenile black redstart.

Kicker Conspiracy: Day Three (Echo Delay).

2010-06-14T09:15:00.002+01:00

Kicker Conspiracy: Day Three (Echo Delay)., originally uploaded by mithering.

Slight delay on yesterday's update on lost and abandoned England flags due to Technical Problems. To wit, I had left the lead which connected the mobile phone to the computer in work, and it would have cost me 30p to send it via the interweb. Given the abject quality of the picture in question (see above, taken from moving car, England flag can just be glimpsed, top left, Bury New Road, M25, Prestwich) you'll understand why my six shillings stayed in my pocket. Also spotted two on the M62 and one on Heys Road.

None seen so far today, but the streets in and around the Scientific Quarter of Manchester (centered on Tib Street) had definitely been swept before I made my 8.30am entrance.

Kicker Conspiracy: Day Two.

2010-06-12T22:59:00.001+01:00

No lost flags spotted today so here's one found by The Eldest on Friday and brought home to M25.

Saturday's kids.

2010-06-12T07:54:00.001+01:00

Heaton Park. Right now. Join us.

Kicker Conspiracy: Day One.

2010-06-11T09:18:00.002+01:00

Kicker One, originally uploaded by mithering.

In celebration of this year's World Cup I'll be documenting every lost and abandoned super-patriotic Cross of St. George car flag I find in the street. Here's the first from 8.14 this morning. Found on Julia Street, Manchester, M3 while I was on my way down to The Forbidden Zone for a bit of pre-work birding. More to follow. Undoubtedly.

We Are Phuture.

2010-06-04T14:54:00.004+01:00

Man or Astroman? sticker on Spear Street, Manchester, originally uploaded by mithering.

Found this the other day on a drainpipe I pass every day on my way into work. A relic of the future/past. And on digging around to try to find out when the world's greatest Madchester band might have played on Oldham Street I discovered that they're just about to reform.

Update 2010-06-11: Just walked past the site and it's not there any more. Peeled or scratched off. Or maybe it's just gone back into space?

Swans.

2010-06-02T23:21:00.004+01:00

Swans., originally uploaded by mithering.

After a tea of pasta with watery Gorgonzola sauce from a crap restaurant, we decamped to The Jolly Sailor, a bar just off The Reeperbahn. The barman was a right miserable twat and while I don't want everybody to be all Have A Nice Day, I also don't expect to be made to feel unwelcome. So, on the pretext of getting a jumper from the hotel room I headed back in the direction of Budapester Hof. My route back took me partly along The Reeperbahn, which greatly resembled The Golden Mile in Blackpool, but with more butt plugs and a less threatening atmosphere.

Adjacent to the hotel, with only the small kiosk soon to be renamed The Ein Euro Bar between us, was The Jolly Roger, the FC St Pauli fans' bar. I ended up in there watching a Bundesliga game which ended up with The Underdogs beating somebody or other one-nil with a late goal. Sated with excitement, and having been up for 40 hours, I headed for bed knowing that damned nature and my own stupid inner clock would have me awake the next morning by seven at the latest, and probably much earlier.

In the end it was about 5.30. In and out of consciousness and topped off with the noise and chaos which shook the walls of the hotel several times during the night, I managed to stay in bed until seven am when breakfast was due to be served. Downstairs, in the breakfast basement, it was just me and The Germans. The Old Germans. The Old Germans who had had the misfortune to book into a low-priced Hamburg hotel at the exact point the pandemonium hit town.

Back in England I'd made the decision that I would spend the earlier part of the day 'doing the galleries' by way of keeping me out of the bars of Hamburg until an appropriate time. Before they opened I decided to walk up to the Alster lake to do a bit of urban birding. I headed out past two or three FC heads who had had to spend the night on couches in reception as one of their number had locked himself in their room and could not be roused from his slumber and made my way past the Milerntor.

In the car park adjacent to the stadium a classic car show was taking shape, but of more interest to me were the trees on the other side of the road. A park. Cocking a snook to German convention I jaywalked straight across the empty, Saturday at 7.30am road. Inside, it looked like your average park park with a (closed) cafe and swings, joggers and early morning can-clutching alkies staggering about. After a few minutes it became clear that I was in something rather more toot schweet than your average park park. I was in the Old Botanical Gardens. I knew this because the interpretation boards were, very handily, written in German and English. On returning, I find that I skirted the main bits, but I was on my way to somewhere else, and the pond I walked along was pleasant enough so I only have a tiny regret that I didn't go and have a look at the really interesting stuff in the greenhouses.

By the way, if you've made it this far, god bless you. I'm trying to exorcise myself of this damned stuff and it keeps pouring out. I can't even bail at this point because we've not got to the picture above. Okay, let's go straight for it. They're nests. For swans. Man-made nests for swans. Part of a well-developed infrastructure for breeding birds which was in place around the Alster lake. I got up to it and rang home, describing the scene and when I got off the phone I decided to walk all the way round the lake. And to Hell with Art

Boring list of birds seen in Hamburg that I've seen many times in inner city Manchester, except for the Barnacle Geese (the Grebes can be seen in Heaton Park):

In order of sighting: Blackbird, Wood Pigeon, Magpie, Carrion Crow, Mallard Duck, Feral Pigeon, Starling, Black-Headed Gull, Swift, Wren, Great Tit, Coot, Long-tailed Tit, Barnacle Goose, Great Crested Grebe, Tufted Duck, Mute Swan, Cormorant, Blue Tit, Hedge Sparrow, Grey Heron.

And then I had a great day which involved FC, Ein Euro, Hin Und Veg, The Carpenters, Zeckenbiss, Fanladen, a Ukele and Aldi.

And now back to our usual programming.

Cigarettes and Alcohol.

2010-05-20T23:46:00.009+01:00

Budapester Hof, St. Pauli., originally uploaded by mithering.

After a whole night without any sleep on the FC United Boogie bus we headed up through the low countries, with Looking for Eric banging on like a Childrens' Film Foundation flick with tourettes. FUCKING FUCKING FUCK FUCKING FUCKING eric FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCK postmen FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK united FUCK FUCKING FUCK and i would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling FUCKING united fans.

Up through France, into Belgium, Holland, then finally Germany. Highlights, apart from the wealth of onboard activity organised by Stan and Blakey and the opportunity to watch fellow passengers smoke their way through the service stations of Europe, were the amount of deer which could be seen from the coach windows. Them and hordes of Grey Herons, who seem to have nothing better to do in Europe than hang around at the side of the motorway dreaming of fresh roll mops and black coffee.

We finally reached Hamburg at about 15.30. Well, the outskirts of Hamburg, which we skirted for a while until we found our way to the St. Pauli Elbe tunnel. A 1911 construction which took us deep, deep, deep into the ground under the Elbe river and coughed us up near our destination, the palatial three-star Hotel Budapest, in the St. Pauli area of Hamburg.

"It didnt look like that on the website," observed the man known only as H, who had sat next to me for the majority of the nineteen hour journey, quietly supping cider and managing to not crush me when he fell asleep, sitting up. He's a big fella, I may have been permanently affected. I agreed; the graffiti-scarred building was not the gleaming white ode to German cleanliness we had anticipated when scouring the internet for details of where we were headed.

Inside, it was clean but functional. Two of the 'beds' were actually giant pouffes; ideal for a giant to rest his feet on. I went for one of these as I'm built for that sort of thing and because I knew I'd be tired/drunk enough by the time I lay down on it to guarantee a good night's sleep.

At about five thirty it was decided that a look at FC St. Pauli's ground, the Millerntor-Stadion, would be a good idea. At about five-thirty two we arrived there. Nods and smiles were exchanged with those with whom nods and smiles are normally exchanged in Bacup or Matlock or some Yorkshire Hell Hole like Osset. The 'alright, mate?' accquaintances. Except this time we were in a beer-cap strewn, graffiti-covered and sticker-friendly part of Hamburg. In Germany!

I'm Alive.

2010-05-17T15:01:00.000+01:00

Blogging fell by the wayside as soon as we left British waters and internet access went from 30p to £6 per day. In the meantime, here's some great reportage 'on the spot' from a nine-year old FC fan (blink and you'll miss me).

And here's an associated tune which I fear will bring me and a few others to tears at some point in the future.

Report from Germany coming soon.

There'll Be Bluebirds etc.

2010-05-14T04:49:00.001+01:00

On Bryan. Next stop? La Belle Franςaise.

Smokestack Lightning.

2010-05-14T03:02:00.001+01:00

I just had a go on this evil mofo. 45 miles from Dover.

Black to Comm.

2010-05-14T02:20:00.000+01:00

If you are ever taking an overnight coach somewhere and are hoping to get a bit of kip make sure the person in charge of the tunes doesn't have a yen for playing crap, over-produced showband rock and roll. NFT.

Part-time Punks.

2010-05-13T23:20:00.001+01:00

Stopped at Norton Canes services on M6 Toll for our first 'comfort break' and spotted this 'article'. Tim Yohannon must be spinning in his grave.

All Night Party.

2010-05-13T21:28:00.002+01:00

So D-Day has finally arrived and I'm sitting on a coach in Stephenson Square ready to go to Hamburg to watch FC United play St.Pauli on Saturday. And off we go, only twenty minutes late... To be continued.

People Take Pictures Of Each Other #3 - Flea with some Dubsex at the Boardwalk 1990

2010-05-07T09:28:00.014+01:00

Another music video, another blast from the Manchester past. This time, it's Flea and Dub Sex at The Boardwalk, which I've posted as it contains a very nostalgic sight for those of us who spent a lot of time at the Little Peter Street venue; those never-ending stairs which led up to the entrance. Enjoy.

The Go-Betweens - Head Full of Steam - Live on UK TV - 1986

2010-05-01T00:22:00.000+01:00

Just because it's so beautiful.

People Take Pictures of Each Other #2: The Fall - There's A Ghost In My House (1987).

2010-04-30T23:50:00.004+01:00

Filmed in The Woodthorpe Hotel, perched on Bury Old Road in maybe Prestwich, probable Crumpsall, it's The Fall doing R Dean Taylor in 1987. I was going to post the video for Hit The North, but that has less inner M62 content than I remembered - the synagogue on Bury Old Road and what used to be The Temple cinema a mile further down are briefly shown.

Toadies.

2010-04-26T12:54:00.001+01:00

Toadies., originally uploaded by mithering.

Went for a short walk through Aitken Wood yesterday, and happened upon this fella on the way past Lower Black Moss reservoir. As far as my eyes can tell it's a Common Toad (bufo bufo). Further up the path were another pair, seized with sexy spring madness and copulating in a most inappropriate and dangerous place. Thrill-seekers, obviously.

People Take Pictures of Each Other #1: Kalima - The Smiling Hour (1984)

2010-04-23T16:35:00.002+01:00

I came across this the other day on the Dusty Sevens blog and was blown away to see such fantastic footage of the now-gone Church Street fruit and veg barrows in Manchester. There are also great shots of Piccadilly and The Royal Exchange as well as rooftop views of The Arndale. It made me wonder how much footage there is of 'old' Manchester out there as part of music videos. Publicly-available Manchester, that is, so no 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' on Little Peter Street as that was inside the rehearsal rooms. So I did some thinking and came up with six that highlight 'Manchester' within the M60, i.e. Manchester, Salford, Prestwich etc. Two Fall, one Buzzcocks, one New Order and one Smiths, which I'll be posting on a weekly-basis. In the meantime, if you can think of any more, leave a comment.

Another Sunny Day.

2010-04-22T14:25:00.001+01:00

Unmissable Manchester, originally uploaded by mithering.

I like the plain but, er, eye-catching design of this relatively new advertising campaign for Unmissable Manchester. The smaller text implores you to 'keep your eyes open for this year's spectacular events'. Uh-oh, here comes a parade. More to the point, keep your eyes, ears and mind open and you'll experience something much more precious than a Lithuanian live artist dressed as a pink cicada in The Arndale. You'll see the increasing reclamation and colonisation of the inner-ring road area of Manchester and Salford by my old pals, The Birds.

Most recent highlight was today's beautiful, perky, male Redstart perched on top of a street light and singing as if his life depended upon it. He was my first in any place, so to see him high above the former Victoria Bus Station, adjacent to the Bijou Lounge or as it is more famously known from barrel-scraping Blind-Date-rip-off show Take Me Out, Fernando's, was a delight.

The increased presence of the city centre Goldfinches is something which has become more and more apparent as Spring has lengthened the days. I don't see them every day, but I usually hear them, scrapping away over the Church Street multi-storey car park or flocking around the small thicket of trees clinging on just off Tib Street.

Hush.

2010-04-17T07:56:00.002+01:00

Heaton Park, Northern Playground, right now. Just me, The Youngest and the dog-walkers. Off to the farm then the lake next.

Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow

2010-04-13T00:07:00.002+01:00

A recent review in The Guardian said that while South Park retained its contemporary edge, The Simpsons had drifted into Mad magazine dotage. I can agree to a point, particularly as South Park got better later, but any show which can drop a gag involving Goya's 'Saturn devouring his children' into mainstream American culture is surely doing something right (in a non-contemporary way).

Up Against The Wall XVII: I Know Who Framed Rodger (sic) Rabbit.

2010-04-09T17:22:00.003+01:00

It may not be obscene or angry, but it is surreal and retro. From a backstreet wall in the newly-rebranded (by me) Scientists Quarter of Manchester.