Flickin' Against the
Now I've got a cousin
called Kevin. He's sure to go to heaven. Always spotless clean and
neat, as smooth as you'll get 'em. Actually, I haven't, and even if I
had, there's no way he'd have beaten me at subbuteo, 'cos I was okay at
it back in the day (whatever that means).
What’s Eating Gilbert
This month our resident
plazzy revolutionary takes a cheap swipe at national heroes and other
assorted individuals who have done something infinitely more constructive
with their lives than he has. .
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4,
3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR SWINESTERS!
by Andrew Vaughan
“When I was forty-seven
It was a very bad year
It was a very bad year for rock music
Of independent means
Soul Music stagnated
As James Brown went to heaven
When I was forty-seven”
Pictures of Lily
by Finton Stack
At times during 2006, it felt as if we were
drowning in a sea of cunts. Aside from the ongoing Kate / sweaty moonface
wankfest , we witnessed the rise of the Stage School kids. Their champion was
Russell “dress sense of a widowed rag & bone man” Brand with his skanky
hair & even skankier cock. Russell was once addicted to crack & smack
but, being the notoriously publicity shy soul he is, rarely speaks of it.
by Shaun Smith
by some boffin with too much state-financed time on his hands last year
claimed that January 23rd was the most depressing day of the year.
Bollocks. Even though it provides the title of a woefully bad 1970s song
by Pilot, January is a quality time to be alive in my book. And, unlike
some, I’ve always enjoyed the first month in the calendar for as long as I
Too Many Cooks?
by Phil Thornton
Never have the wise words
of that camp bloke from the Adelphi reality series, Hotel rang so true...
'Just cook will yer'
Look, I'm a sucker for
these celebrity chef and cooking programmes myself. Saturday Morning
Kitchen with that fellar who used to wear a doo rag and was very handsome
til he put a bit of beef on (gratuitous culinary metaphor no 1) and that
annoying Itie with the Frankie Detori accent, Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares,
Rick Stein, even Ready Steady Fucking Cook.
by Shaun Smith
Italia winning the World Cup
England deservedly not getting past the
World Cup Quarter Finals
Spending more time on a train drunk
than the cast of Von Ryan’s Express for Aberdeen away pre-season
hearing Robert Armani’s Circus Bells
played at a certain 40th birthday celebration in Glasgow
The Ashes 5-0 whitewash – sporting
excellence from a team of “has-beens” expertly written off by the British
by Danny Evans
Spike Lee’s When the Levees Broke is both utterly powerful
and utterly gruelling. It is an assault on complacent modernity in both
its unflinching depiction of its failures and its disregard for the fast
food attention span. It is long, but gripping. Tragedy unfolds upon
tragedy, outrage upon outrage. Strong labouring faces crumple in the
struggle to show stoicism, drunk women spit scorn on their rulers and a
student tells Dick Cheney to go fuck himself, speaking from the wounded
soul of a city and for the whole of the thinking world.
Ozzies House Of Death
For those of a squeemish / nervous / epeleptic / cardiac problems /
vegetarian position I must urge you to stop reading RIGHT NOW !
ART FOR BAD PEOPLE
LIVERPOOL TATE UNTIL 4 MARCH 2007
by Andy Vaughan
over seven rooms the mid-career retrospective of the Chapman Brothers'
work is entitled 'Bad Art for Bad People' and the contemporary artists
challenge us into what we see as good or bad art and whether 'bad' art is
for bad people - or even made by bad people. Or is it just art for the 21st
century. Tackling the subjects of sexuality,
brutality, consumerism, death,
glory, Nazism and Christianity. And that is often in just one