Up Against The Wall XXVIII: Southern Softies

We've not had an Up Against The Wall, our highlighting of angry, frustrated and just plain rude graffiti for a while. Here's a slightly different one found on the Central Line in that there London instead. Kissy kissy.

Bad Habits.

So I'll start actually writing about the damned things soon. I've been reading. On the bus, in the garden, at home, in work. I've been carrying comics about. I've been humping books around. I've been toting my tablet. I was going to write about Smell of Steve, but I can't find a decent enough image online. And I'm nowhere near a scanner. So I've stolen this scan from the internet (relax, I do have this postcard at home and could have scanned it in if I'd been somewhere near a scanner). It's advertising Josh Simmons' Habit #1. I took the image form Josh Simmons' tumblr. I hope he doesn't mind.

Habit #1 is one of the comics I will be writing about. It's a new comic. I will mainly be writing about old comics. I'm hoping to be able to pick up on new stuff as a consequence of writing this stuff and doing the consequent digging. Yesterday, for example, I found out that Dark Horse published a Smell of Steve anthology entitled Planet of Beer. When I find it cheap enough I will buy it.

A partial list of comics I've read since June 26th, or plan to read in the next six months includes Habit #1 (see above), It Was The War of the Trenches, Plastic Man, Love and Rockets, Neat Stuff, The Terrible Tales of the Teenytinysaurs, Smell of Steve, Pogo, TV Century 21, Marshall Law, The Comics Journal, Playing Out, Building Stories, The Hive, The Horror! The Horror!, A Handful of Groats, Beer Nutz, Flesh and Bone, Valiant and a fistful of Oily releases.

Watch this space. I'll soon be open to suggestions.

Blah Blah Blah.

I'll be reading this sort of thing. Sorta.

So, over a year since the last post. Apologies. I was going to delete this blog. Then I was going to leave it, but start a new one about the thing that I'm going to go on to write about. But I took a sniff of Wordpress and decided I didn't want to be constantly mithered to update for cash. So, then I thought, well, why not go back to the old place and do some of the new stuff and some of the old stuff and push the other stuff you've been doing in the meanwhile. It's not like I've been living in a cave for the past year (and the year before that to be frank - 14 posts in a year does not qualify one for a Red Hot Lover badge).

So, I've just embarked on a plan to read nothing but comics and comics-related criticism for six months. Hard-reading, not taking my news from Ain't It Cool or listening only to the Ink-Studs podcast. I'll still be operating in The Real World, except that when I read for pleasure it will be words and pictures only. I feel a need to catch-up and mine backwards. It's an art form I've not exactly neglected - I still buy comics on occasion (usually in book form these days, unless they're small press) - but I do feel like I have lost the overview I used to have. In addition, I'm interested in revisiting and revising ways of looking at and writing about comics.

I've also just got a new phone. And a tablet (on which I've been reading lots of comics I couldn't otherwise afford, such as Jack Cole's Plastic Man comics). So, I'm feeling more techno-enabled. And I will be writing about other stuff than comics. You know, the usual stupid observations and self-righteous football postings.

I started the comics thing on June 26th. I'll finish it on Boxing Day, unless I'm having such a whale of a time that I decide to continue. Let's see... And watch this space.

No Monarchy.

Possibly the only good thing about the recent royalist vomit-fest was Kellogg's decision to release these 'heritage' boxes. They made a pretty decent end of aisle display in my local Sainsburys. Not sure of their historic accuracy, but the Frosties box in particular is lovely.

Oh, and hello again to you, too.

Meat Is Murder. Track One. Stafford Rangers.

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!

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.

 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Pictures of Matchstick Men VII.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.