Thursday, 5 February 2015


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Wella: A Warning From History!

(The following is a sample of some of English mythology's more imaginative augmentations on the legendary beast 'The Wepps' that I am anthologising in a four-volume set that Random House plan to publish pending the outcome of the Bulgarian shepherds strike)

The Silkworm:
The Silkworm is an early incarnation of the Wepps that first appears in Chaucer's early cookery books. The Silkworm is not actually a worm of any type but a small bird of no more than 4 or 5 inches that was said to have the power of speech but constantly referred to itself in the third person, such as "He's a great little bird, isn't he?" Persian mythology holds that if the Silkworm appears on the window sill in the morning a relative will either come into money or break both legs at a tombola.

The Flying Goon:
The Flying goon is another early version of the modern day Wepps we all know and hate. Flying Goons were said to be magical creatures with four hundred and 4 four eyes. Two hundred for long distance, two hundred for reading and four independently moving eyes to 'keep toot for any loose change or fags on the floor'. According to legend, if a man gazed directly into the face of a Flying Goon he immediately lost his right to drive in Bensham. The Flying Goon was also known to be a harsh carrier of herpes.

The Prawn:
The Prawn see's an interesting spin on the legend of The Wepps as it is a sea monster! Tales see it located living just off the North Northumberland coast near Holy Island. Most scholars maintain that this was due to The Prawns fabled love of free mead that the Monks would pour into the surrounding waters to pacify The Prawn on it's stroppier days. Killing a Prawn was said to be bad luck: In a poem by Sir Herbert Figgles, a sailor shoots one and his boat suddenly founders in a storm, causing the crew to seize the captain and cut his hair into a fashionable Hitler-sweep in a futile attempt to appease the Prawn. There were no survivors.

The Great Weaponie:
The Great Weaponie is a Greek take on the Wepps legend, with the head of a turtle and the body of a turtle, although not the same turtle. The Great Weaponie is reputed to sleep for a thousand years and then suddenly awake in flames, particularly if it was smoking when it dozed off. The red headed Greek warrior Greggles was said to have awakened Weaponie after six hundred years but found it listless and grouchy, and it begged to remain in bed just another two hundred years. The appearance of The Great weaponie is considered unlucky and is usually preceded by a cigarette famine or news of debt.

The Modern Day Wepps:
The truth of the Modern Day Wepps is, as ever, far less interesting than it's numerous legendary incarnations, it is in fact a large magical white mouse with the words 'Touch Me' printed on it's nipples. The Modern Day Wepps is unique amongst rodents in that it can be picked up and played like a trombone. It is also an expert 'tromboner'. It is also said to know the mayor of Pelaw personally.

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

How to keep the hope machine running, or what socks have to do with self-actualization and belonging.


What our New Years resolutions should be.

As a lover and maker of lists, I often agree with Umberto Eco that 'The list is the origin of culture.' But, more than that, it can also be a priceless map of personal aspiration, as is the case of the kinds of lists we make this time of year — resolution lists. Pepper yours, if you make one with humour and humanity.

1. Work more and better
2. Work by a schedule
3. Wash teeth if any
4. Shave
5. Eat good — fruit — vegetables — milk
6. Drink very scant, if any
7. Write something every day
8. Look good - shine shoes
9. Read lots good books
10. Listen to radio a lot
11. Learn people better
12. Keep home tidy
13. Dont get lonely
14. Stay glad
15. Keep hoping
16. Keep positivity machine running
17. Dream good
18. Bank all extra money
19. Save dough
20. Have company but dont waste time
21. Play good
22. Dance better
23. Help win wars
24. Love Mum
25. Love family
26. Love everybody
27. Make up your mind
28. Wake up and fight

Here's a mix of off kilter oddities and space rock we did recently too, all playable and downloadable from our Soundcloud page.

Latest tracks by Tourist Mixes

Till next time.
Big love. Tourist. X

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Everybody ends up dead.


An Open Letter to Writers of Open Letters

by Godfrey Bumblesquat

To those who feel compelled to address the world from Facebook, Twitter, and email chains, here is a message: No one is listening, least of all Luther Vandross.
We need to have a talk, under the illusion of its taking place in private but actually for anyone to read. Also, the talk will be unilateral and you will never respond to it. Ready? It doesn’t matter, because I’m not listening to you!

The practice of writing open letters must stop. I agree, it was a creative form back in the days of the Bible, and was used effectively throughout history by such figures as Martin Luther, Martin Luther King, and Luther Vandross.

But now every John, Dick, and Luther with internet access can write an open letter for potentially everyone to read, and most of our discourse is already public (I actually originated that last phrase in 1996, which is no. 8 on my list of 25 Things You Don’t Know About Me, just after no. 7—“I murdered a man in Laos on 6/19/2002 and have never been apprehended.”) Writers of open letters, it’s time, for the following reasons, to retire the form, one as hackneyed as the enumeration of arguments through bullet points:

• First, there’s the arrogance of presuming that your letter will really be read by the public, not to mention the greater hubris of signing the letter with your location and date, as if the act of writing it is a historic event whose place and time we must note for the ages. Chances are, no fucker cares enough about the issue to read it, so people end up shamelessly larding their letters with search-engine-friendly phrases like, oh, I don’t know, 'Justin Bieber haircut', 'Angelina Jolie nude' and 'Did Luther Vandross ever really write an open letter? He didn’t, right? It was just a joke, like I thought at first wasn't it?'

• Intervention by letter is an emotionally unhealthy way to address something. If you’re upset about something, therapists often do recommend writing a letter to the person who has upset you — but not sending it. You reap all the benefits of self-expression without the interpersonal conflict. Is it really worth expressing your frustration over Virhin Money's takeover of Northern Rock to have an awkward encounter the next time you run into Richard Branson in Asda?

• Speaking of Branson, a few people or entities to whom there should be an immediate moratorium on writing open letters: Primeministers; the High Court; billionaires. They are too busy and important to ever read it, except for Nick Clegg, because he’s so insecure he has a Google alert set up for his name.

If you absolutely must write an open letter, at least conform to a few tropes of real letter-writing, such as mixing in breezy updates about your own life. For example, in an open letter to Nick Griffin, you might write, “In conclusion, sir, I, for one, am extremely grateful you and your party are doing a great job in showing what a bunch of absolute retards you are as I find morally reprehensible each and every one of your doctrines. P.S. By the way, last night, Sheila and I watched 'Shrek' . We both thought of you! P.P.S. I sincerely hope your own daughter is never raped and impregnated by one of your backwoods cousins."

I would also call for a ban on the short semi-open letter that’s taken root on Facebook and Twitter, such as 'Tuesday afternoons, why are you so interminable?' or 'Oh, Antiques Roadshow, how I love you,” or 'Dear Luther Vandross, did you ever write an open letter? Also I wonder what music you’d be making now if you hadn’t died in 2005.'

Writers of open letters, since you’ve read to the end of this letter and haven’t rebutted me, I assume you’re in agreement and, therefore, the matter can be considered officially closed.

Yours in meta-openness,

Godfrey Bumblesquat.

Tuesday, 29 November 2011




Dylan going Electric, Radiohead going Electronic, Paul Simon going ethnic, Phil Spector going mad, Snoop Dog going shit,.. modern history is full of controversial decisions, unusual evolutionary directions and the ever popular volte face.

Here at Tourist, we're not immune to the endless march of progress and, as we pass through the the 3 year mark, we've decided to fuck about with the site for no apparent reason, like an even shitter Facebook.

We're being flippant of course, the new look Tourist-Mag site promises a load of improvements for readers, a wealth of completely exclusive content, greater engagement, guest articles, merch and a fuck-load of more, er... stuff.

We're going live on Dec 2nd but till then we'll be offering this sneak preview of our new look

Naturally, we're throwing a party to celebrate, and to this end we've invited down a duo that, between them, have possibly featured more heavily on Tourist-Mag than anyone else.

... Andrew Weatherall & Sean Johnston....

Who will be bringing us the unbridled, leftfield, slo-poke joy of...


...for it's first ever UK outing outside of London.
(Also on hand will be the Tourist information board of Mark Algar & Geoff Leopard, but don't let that put you off)

What's more, in a mind boggling confluence of hitherto unheard of organisational prowess, we've managed to arrange it so entry will be ....


As it's ALFOS, a blingy club space would simply not do, with that in mind we're taking over the leftfield independent boozer that is, No28, for one night only.
We'll be packing the place full of sound, smoke and sin from 9pm till 3 in the am and sincerely we hope you can make it.

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Bad Passion (This Saturday as a matter of fact)


We've been quite slack on posting this up, so with that in mind we're going to do this arse over apex.

Bad Passion are throwing their last party of 2011 this Saturday with Tourist favourites Phoreski and Felix Dickinson.

Check the Facebook event page for more details.

It's at a secret London locale, so if you want to know where then buy a ticket via their paypal address,, after which point you'll receive an email with the full address details.

In the unlikely event that there are any tickets remaining on Saturday (they had to turn a great many people away from their recent birthday party), then the remaining tickets will be available on the door.


Right, now that's out of the way... who the fuck are Bad Passion?

In all honesty, we imagine Bad Passion should be familiar to the majority of readers, but for those of you who haven't heard of them... all you need to know is that Andy Bainbridge & Chris Stoker are 2 Wearside waistrells who decided to leave the North East of England to turn their backs on the never ending succession of weekend afterparties, badly cut drugs and lost weekends, and move to London, attracted by it's never ending succession of weekend afterparties, badly cut drugs, lost weekends and better general standard of trouser.

3 years ago the two of them, along with Dan Mitchell (formerly of the Cosmic Truth) got off their collective tuchus's (tuchi?) and started throwing parties to let them play the music they wanted to hear and book the people they wanted to dance to.
Over the 3 years the guys have been joined by a host of great talent including Gatto Fritto, KZA, Phil South & Anton Esteban, Nick the Record and a roll call of many other intersting and unique artist(e)s.

The rest as they say (well as I say, because I'm lazy) is history.
In the last 3 years Bad Passion has managed to become one of a very select breed of London party's, in as much as they have a loyal following, they're based on no prevailing musical fashion and they don't pander to the latest trends (sadly, this is still not true in relation to Chris's trousers).

This has all been vouchsafed by such honours as being asked to host a boat party on "The Argonuaty" at Electric Elephant, or recording a mix for Tim Sweeney's "Beats in Space", or being asked to play Bestival, or playing the Art against Knives Van at Loveboxx.... we could go on, but you get the gist.

Anyway, they're good friends and good DJ's, so please do yourself a favour if you're in London Village and go to the party.

... and if you can't make it, then at least you can check out their latest mix here...

Bad passion Project - Dance Infidel Dance mix - November 2011 by BAD PASSION PROJECT

Till next time.
Big love. Tourist. X

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

An appology.


Of all the famous men who ever lived, the one I would most like to have met was Socrates. Not just because he was a great thinker, because I have been known to have some reasonably profound insights myself, although mine invariably revolve around a bunch of hot model chic, some handcuffs and a bin bag of cocaine. No, the great appeal for me of this wisest of all the Greeks was his courage in the face of death. His decision was not to abandon his principles, but rather to give his life to prove a point. I personally am not quite so fearless about dying and will, after any untoward noise like a car backfiring, lea, leap directly into the arms of the person I am conversing with. In the end, Socrates' brave death gave his life authentic meaning. Something my existence lacks totally, although it does possess a minimal relevance to Northumbria Police and the Inland Revenue. I must confess I have tried putting myself in this great philosopher's sandals many times and no matter how often I do, I immediately wind up dozing off and having the following dream.

(The scene is my/Socrates' prison cell. I am usually sitting alone, working out some deep problem of rational thought like: Can an object be called a work of art if it can also be used to clean the cooker? Presently I am visited by Agathon and Simmias.)

Agathon: Ah, my good friend and wise old sage. How go your days of confinement?
Me: What can one say of confinement, Agathon? Only the blood may be prisoned. My mind roams freely, unfettered by the four walls and therefore the truth I ask, does confinement exist?
Agathon: Well, what if you want to go for a walk?
Me: Good question. I can't.

(The three of us then sit in classical poses, not unlike a frieze. Then Agathon speaks again.)

Agathon: I'm afraid the word is bad. You have been condemned to death.

Me: Ah, it saddens me that I should cause debate in the senate.

Agathon: No debate. The decision was unanimous.

Me: Really!?

Agathon: First ballot.

Me: Hmmmm. I had counted on a little more support.

Simmaias: The senate is raging over your ideas for a Utopian state.

Me: I suppose I should never have suggested having a philosopher-king.

Simmias: Especially when you kept pointing to yourself and clearing your throat.

Me: And yet I do not regard my executioners as evil.

Agathon: Nor do I.

Me: What specifically did they say they had in mind for me?

Agathon: Hemlock.

Me: (Puzzeled) Hemlock?

Agathon: You remember that black stuff that ate through my marble table?

Me: Really?

Agathon: Just one cupful. Though they do have a back up chalice should you spill anything.

Me: I wonder if it's painful?

Agathon: They asked if you would try not to make a scene. It disturbs the other prisoners.

Me: Hmmmm,,,,

Agathon: I told everyone you would die bravely rather than renounce your principles.

Me: Right, right,,,, er, did the concept of 'exile' ever come up?

Agathon: They stopped exiling last year. Too much red tape. Oh, I ran into Isosceles earlier. He has a great idea for a new triangle.

Me: Right, right,,,, (suddenly dropping all pretense of courage) Look, I'm going to level with you - I don't want to die! I'm too young!

Agathon: But this is your chance to die for truth!

Me: Don't get me wrong. I'm all for truth. On the other hand I've got a second date with a super hot chic in Sparta next week and word is she's proper up for it! Plus it's my turn to buy. You know those Spartans, they kick off over anything.

Simmias: Is our wisest philosopher a coward?

Me: I'm not a coward, and I'm not a hero. I'm somewhere in the middle.

Simmias: A cringing vermin.

Me: That's approximately the spot.

Agathon: But it was you that proved that death does not exist! What was all the talk about death being the same as sleep?

Me: Yes, but the difference is that when you're dead and somebody shouts, "Rise and shine, it's morning," it's very hard to find your slippers.

(The executioner arrives with a cup of hemlock. He bears a close facial resemblance to Spike Milligan)

Executioner: Ah - here we go. Who gets the poison?

Agathon: (Pointing to me) He does.

Me: Wow, that's a big cup. Should it be smoking like that?

Executioner: Yes. And drink it all because sometimes the poison is at the bottom.

(Usually here my behaviour is totally different from Socrates' and I am told I scream in my sleep.)

Me: No - I won't! I don't want to die! Help! No! Please!

(He hands me the brew and all seems lost. Then because of some innate survival instinct the dream always takes an upturn and a messenger arrives)

Messenger: Hold everything! The senate has re-voted! the charges have been dropped, your value has been re-assessed and it is decided you should be honoured instead.

Me: At last! At last! They came to their senses! I'm a free man! Free! And to be honoured! Quick, grab my bags. I have to be going. Praxiteles will want to get an early start on my bust. But before I leave, I give a little parable.
A group of men live in a dark cave. They are unaware that outside the sun shines. The only light they know is the flickering flame of a few small candles which they use to move around.

Agathon: Where'd they get the candles?

Me: Well, lets just say they have them.

Agathon: They live in a cave and have candles? It doesn't ring true.

Me: Can you just go with it for now?

Agathon: OK, OK, but get to the point.

Me: And then one day, one of the cave dwellers walks out of the cave and see's the outside world.

Simmias: In all it's clarity.

Me: Precisely. In all it's clarity.

Agathon: When he tries to tell the others they don't believe him. Is that it?

Me: Well, no. He doesn't tell the others.

Agathon: He doesn't?

Me: No, he opens a butchers, he marries a dancer and dies of a cerebral hemorrhage at forty two.

(They grab me and force the hemlock down. Here I usually wake up in a sweat and only some eggs and bacon can calm me down again.)

Right then! Music time and it's another mix from me (but don't let that put you off!)


1. Pink Skull * Bee Nose (Brassica Remix)
2. Space System * Master Of The Sky
3. Meanderthals * Andromeda (Prelude To The Future)
4. Free School * Ranting And Raving (Time And Space Machine Remix)
5. Mano Le Tough * Halve A Sun
6. 40 Thieves * Live IS Something Special (Yo Spaceship! Megamix)
7. Suzanne Kraft * Morning Come
8. Missing Lynx * Gotta Minute
9. Cos/Mes * Like A Virgin Point
10. Pional * In Another Room
11. Channel 7 * Aufgang (John Talabot's You And Me Remix)
12. O Children * Heels (Mugwump Remix)
13. Pastique De Reve * Lost In The City
14. Diegors * El Underworld
15. Bozwell * In My Cocoon
16. Kim Ann Foxman * Creature
17. KiNK & Neville Watson * Inside Out
18. Discreet Unit * Shake Your Body Down
19. Ferdi Blankena * Mothers Son
20. Adam Port * Stalker

Mix for the 'For Disco Play Only' podcast series. by Tourist Blog

Till next time.
Big love. Tourist. X

Thursday, 27 October 2011

'The smile doesn't always mean I'm happy' mix.


The time will come when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself,
to the stranger who has loved you all your life,
whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

A little mellow and reflective mix with a handfulof up tempo moments. Tracks from The Beatles, The Immortals, Can, Holger Cuzaky, Jimi Hendrix and more.

Download 'The smile doesn't always mean I'm happy' mix by Tourist here.

Till next time.
Big love. Tourist. X