Sunday, 29 March 2009

Womens Writes!!

Lesbians! Pictures, Images and Photos

'IT GOES without sayin' that you have to admire the determination of Ms. Pankhurst's crew when it came to letting themselves be heard and bringing the much needed attention to the plight of women's rights in the days when Charlie Chaplin was actually liked by J. Edgar Hoover.
By the 1960s we had Germain Greer having lengthy conversations, (as well as lengthy fanny hair,) with the food in her fridge and relentlessly campaigning for middle class women to get those boardroom jobs that middle class men were usually boxed off with.
As we enter a brave new millenium you would be forgiven for thinking that womankind had reached the pinnacle of existence, hmmmm,,,

That is until you wander in to any bar in Newcastle, or in fact, in any city, on any night over the 4 day weekend. You can't move for women, who have taken up the mantle of independence and confidence,,,, lying on their back or puking in a pissy corner.
Yep, it would seem that the hard efforts of the many women who came before them fall somewhat silent on the bulk of the female population of today. Sadly, the theme music from the Charlies Angels film doesnt go down too well whilst being played in a club with most of the independent women staggering around the gaff with their snide Prada strides hanging off, or crawling across the damp carpet to the bogs.

WOMEN, nowadays, are just as handy as fellas for road rage or keeping the local courtroom economy in tip top shape. We even got female England hooligans now, wanting to stick it to Johnny Foreigner as a preference to their previous-tedious lifestyle, such as watching Corrie or Eastenders or spending all day and night on fucking MSN Messenger.
Times seem to now have changed since the 1960s and now most middle class women want to be presenting the Footy, as opposed to being a bank manager or controller of the BBC.

THOUGH many may think this determination is a modern development, I have to add that, back in the early 1980s the Suffragettes of The Toon were sporting cagoules, Gang Of Four T-Shirts, Trimm Trabs and drainpipes.
This sent a bit of an ambiguous message and confused girls this side of the Tyne.

Was it a fashion statement? A Sexual Revolution? Had the fighting spirit of Germaine Greer reached the shores of Newcastle?
Sadly not, it was just the early wardrobe of the female smack head.
Not always renowned for their sartorial efforts, this particular look spread to many field, near and far!

lesbians Pictures, Images and Photos

I recently read an old article on the net from the music press, dated way back in the mid 1980s, a sensationalized piece that was based around an A.C.R. gig down in London. Rather than the journalist's version of events, which opened with reference to a chap arguing with his girl outside the venue, it has since been disclosed that what had actually happened was that the journalist responsible for the article actually caught the end of an argument which had resulted in a yarkin upper-cut on the lad by his missus in a row over who was wearing the best Trainers? Him or her? Apparently it was her, as she was sporting Adidas SL's whilst he was still in a pair of Hi-Tech, ouuuch!

OFTEN the vanguard of the women's rights movement is the eternal hater of men.
Now, some men deserve to be called fit to burn when it comes to how they view or treat women. This isn't the case of all men, though this does not deter the hater of men and that legendary line is never far away: 'A woman does not need a man to get pregnant, a turkey baster will do! AHAHHAHAAAA'

Thing is, turkey basters are poor conversationalists, look ridiculous in a sun hat and string vest on holiday,,, AND CANT CHANGE A FUCKING PLUG FOR YOUR NEW CERAMIC BASTARD HAIR STRAIGTENERS FOR YOU YOU FAT, STINKING, BARREN, MAN-HATING BULL-DYKE FUCK!

Depeche Mode * Wrong (Boys Noize Vs D.I.M. Remix)

Alexander Robotnik * Obsession For The Disco Freeaks (Andy Blake's Dissident Remix)

Mixhell * Highly Explicit (Brodinski Remix)

The Bangles * Dub Like An Egyptian (Todd Terje Edit)

Franz Ferdinand * No You Girls (Noze Mix)

Peas out. Moogar. x.

Friday, 27 March 2009

Possibly the earliest description of Techno on record...


"The opening allegro took me straight back to childhood and gave me in turn the rusty windlass of a well, the interlinking noises of a goods train that is being shunted, then the belly rumblings of a little boy that is acutely ill after a raid on an orchard and finally the singular alarmed noise of poultry that is being worried to death by a Scotch Terrier. The second movement gave me continuously and throughout its short length the noise of a November wind in telegraph poles on a lonely country road. The third movement began with a dog howling at midnight, proceeded to imitate the regurgitations of the less-refined or lower-middle-class type of water closet lavatory, modulating thence into the mass snoring of a naval dormitory around dawn - and concluded inconsequentially with the screech of an ungreased wheelbarow. The fourth movement reminded me immediately and persistently and vividly ofsomething i have never thought of since the first time i heard it; the noise of a Zulu village in the Glasgow exhibition - a hub bub all the more singular, because it had the background of the skirling highland bagpipes"

Alan Dent on Bela Bartok, quoted in The Later Ego by James Agate.

Keeping on a vintage tip, here's some Early Dutch Techno from Unit Moebius, the original darlings of the Hagues Techno scene, who have just seen 12 of their tracks re-released in a swanky remastered stylee.

Unit Moebius - Nylon

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Count me out of the tawdry Jade Goody freak show

Will Self on Jade Goody's very public death,

will self Pictures, Images and Photos

The public’s grotesque fascination with the reality TV star’s death was a botched catharsis of an inability to deal with its own mortality

A union between a compulsively attention-seeking and ignorant racist wearing a dress donated by Mohamed Fayed, and a golf-club wielding thug, which was attended by Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan, together with assorted superannuated pop singers, while Max Clifford span a line and wangled publicity deals from Richard Desmond's OK! magazine and Living TV.

On the face of it the wedding of Jade Goody and Jack Tweed was every single little thing every right-thinking man and woman in this country has come to loathe - the very recrudescence of the canker that infests the social body.

Yet to read the newspaper accounts you would've thought the tale of this gallows mesalliance was the contemporary version of Abelard and Heloise. And to set the seal of official approval on the Goody-Tweed nuptials, there was none other than our presiding fairy Godmother, the Justice Secretary, Jack Straw.

We’ll gladly look the Grim Reaper in the face, as long as it’s through a TV screen

It would be easy enough to dismiss Straw's relaxation of Tweed’s tagging restrictions as sheer media grandstanding - after all, he could've done so on the quiet - but I fear nothing is that straightforward, excepting possibly Goody's motivation.

JG Ballard once observed that "for a writer, death is always a career move". But as talent has been democratised in our society, so too has its prerequisites - now, death is also a career move for reality TV stars, however, unlike those who can expect posthumous royalties, the pay-out has to be on the nail.

It would be a hard-hearted cynic who would deny Goody the opportunity to earn her own bloody money, and so provide for her two young sons after she's gone. Well, I am a hard-hearted cynic - but I'm not gainsaying her that right, I'm merely dissenting from the grotesque sentimentalising of what is little more than a modern freak show.

It's death that's to blame - of course; death, and more specifically our collective need to at once gaze fixedly upon the memento mori of other people's extinction, while carefully averting our eyes from our own extinction and that of our loved ones.

Whether it's an assisted suicide in Switzerland, or a cancer sufferer in suburban Essex, we're happy to look the Grim Reaper full in the face, so long as that face is seen through a television screen, or a grille of newsprint. Our public celebration of death is only the botched catharsis we undergo, trying to cope with our inability to deal with it in private.

Shorn of religious faith, and the stoicism it inculcates, we go to our deaths sedated

I've had cause to remark before on what a curious fact it is that in the lifetime of the average Briton, 90 per cent of the expenditure on his or her healthcare occurs in the last six weeks of life. In such a strange world Alan Johnson should be dubbed 'Secretary of State for Death' - not health.

Shorn of any religious faith - and the stoicism that, rightly or wrongly, it inculcates - we go to our deaths sedated, palliated, screened off from public view, and attended by the same teams of medics that ushered us into this life.

Our overriding concern about our leave-taking from this world - given that we have no belief in the existence of any other - is that it be painless, and that we cause the minimum of distress to our families (given that they, too, are devoid of any stoicism).

The much-trumpeted view that our willingness to bear witness to Jade Goody's expiration is an example of how healthy our attitude to death is, is exactly the reverse of the case.

Goody may well be dying now because of her own capacity for denial - she ignored the follow-up letters following her cervical screening - but it's those who ignore the tawdriness of her demise, while claiming her as a Diana-type saint of public health awareness, who exhibit the most flagrant denial, and how strange it is that the justice secretary should be one of their number.

Will Self. March 22nd.

Don't worry, this very out of character bout of seriousness will be replaced next week when normal service will be resumed and it'll be back to the usual shite about gak, birds and music.



A brief, yet helpful, guide to Civil Disobedience

Revolution03 Pictures, Images and Photos

In perpetrating a revolution, there are two requirements; someone or something to revolt against and someone to actually show up and do the revolting.

Dress is usually casual and both parties may be flexible about time and place but if either faction fails to attend, the whole enterprise is likely to come off badly. In the Chinese Revolution of 1650 neither party showed up and the deposit on the hall was forfeited.

The People or parties revolted against are called the 'oppressors' and are easily recognized as they seem to be the ones having all the fun. The 'oppressors' generally get to wear suits, own land, and play their radios late at night without being shouted at. Their job is to maintain the 'status quo,' a condition where everything remains the same although they may be willing to paint every two years.

When the 'oppressors' become too strict, we have what is know as a police state, wherein all dissent is forbidden, as is chuckling, showing up in a bow tie or referring to a your local MP as "Fats." Civil liberties are greatly curtailed in a police state, and freedom of speech is unheard of, although one is allowed to mime to a record. Opinions critical of the government are not tolerated, particularly about their dancing. Freedom of the press is also curtailed and the ruling party 'manages' the news, permitting the citizens to hear only acceptable political ideas and Football scores that will not cause unrest.

The groups who revolt are called the 'Oppressed' and can generally be seen milling about and grumbling or claiming to have headaches. (It should be noted that the oppressors never revolt and attempt to become the oppressed as that would entail a change of underwear.) Some famous examples of revolutions are:

The French Revolution,

In which the peasants seized power by force and quickly changed all locks on the palace doors so the nobles could not get back in They then had a large party and gorged themselves. When the nobles finally recaptured the palace they were forced to clean up and found many stains and cigarette burns.

The Russian Revolution,

Which simmered for years and suddenly erupted when the serfs finally realised that and that the Czar and the Tzar were the same person. It should be noted that after a revolution is over, the 'oppressed' frequently take over and begin acting like the 'oppressors.' Of course by then it is very hard to get them on the phone and money lent to them for cigarettes and chewing gum during the fighting may as well be forgotten about.

Methods Of Civil Disobedience:

Hunger Strike.

Here the oppressed goes without food until his demands are met. Insidious politicians will often leave biscuits within easy reach or perhaps some cheddar cheese, but they must be resisted. If the party in power can get the striker to eat, they usually have little trouble putting down the insurrection. If they can get him to eat and also lift the check, they have won for sure. In Pakistan, a hunger strike was broken when the government produced an exceptionally fine veal cordon bleu which the masses found was too appealing to turn down, but such gourmet dishes are rare.

The problem with hunger strike is that after several days you can get quite hungry, particularly since sound trucks are paid to go through the street saying "Um,,, what nice chicken – ummm,,,, some peas,,, ummmm"

A modified form of the Huger Strike for those whose political convictions are not quite so radical is giving up chives. This small gesture, when used properly, can greatly influence a government, and it is well known that Mahatma Ghandi's insistence on eating his salads un-tossed shamed the British government into many concessions.

Sit-Down Strike.

Proceed to a designated spot and then sit down but sit all the way down. Otherwise you are squatting, a position that makes no political point unless the government is also squatting. (This is rare, although a government will occasionally crouch in cold weather.) The trick is to remain seated until concessions are made, but as in the Hunger Strike, the government will try subtle mean's of making the striker rise. They may say, "Okay, everybody up, we're closing." Or, "Can you get up for a minute, we'd just like to see how tall you are?"

Demonstration And Marches.

The key point about a demonstration is that it must be seen. Hence the term "Demonstration." If a person demonstrates privately in his own home, this is not technically a demonstration but merely "Acting silly" or "behaving like a tit head." A Fine example of demonstration was the Boston Tea Party, where outraged Americans disguised as Indians dumped British tea into the harbor. Later, Indians disguised as outraged Americans dumped actual British soldiers into the harbor. Following that the British disguised as tea dumped each other into the harbor. Finally German mercenaries clad only in costumes from 'Kelly's Heroes' leapt into the harbor for no apparent reason.

When demonstrating, it is good to carry a placard stating one's position. Some suggestions are: (1) Lower the taxes, (2) Raise taxes, and (3) stop grinning at Persians.

Miscellaneous methods of Civil Disobedience.

A. Standing in front of the Town Hall and chanting the word "Pudding" until one's demands are met.

B. Tying up traffic by leading a flock of sheep into the shopping centre.

C. Phoning members of 'the establishment' and singing "Bess, You Is My Woman Now" into the phone.

D. Dressing as a policeman and then skipping.

E. Pretending to be a cucumber but punching people as they pass by you.

Monday, 16 March 2009

A Look At Organised Crime

Gay Mafia Pictures, Images and Photos

A Look At Organised Crime.

It is no secret that organized crime in the UK takes in over forty billion dollars a year. This is quite a profitable sum, especially when one considers that the Mafia spends very little for office supplies. Reliable sources indicate that the Cosa Nostra laid out no more than nine thousand pounds last year for personalized stationary, and even less for staples. Furthermore, they have one secretary who does all the typing, and only three small rooms for head-quarters, which they share with the Fred Pensky Dance Studio.

Last year, organised crime was directly responsible for more than one hundred murders, and Mafiosi participated indirectly in several hundred more, either by lending the killers bus fare or by holding their coats. Other illicit activities engaged in by the Cosa Nostra members included gambling, narcotics, prostitution, hijacking, loan-sharking and the transportation of a large amount of whitefish across the Berwick border to Scotland for immoral purposes. The tentacles of this corrupt empire even reach into the government itself. Only a few months ago, two gang lords under police survalance spent the night at 10 Downing Street, and the Prime Minister slept on the sofa.


In 1921, Thomas (The Butcher) Covello and Ciro (The Tailor.) Santucci, a pair of Sicilian immigrants, attempted to organise disparate ethnic groups of the underworld and thus take over East London. This was foiled when Albert (The Logical Positivist) Corrillo assassinated Kid Lipsky by locking him in a cupboard and sucking all the air out using a straw. Lipsky's brother Mendy (alias Mendy Lewis, alias Mendy Larsen, alias Mendy Alias) avenged Lipsky's murder by abducting Santucci's brother Gaettano (also known as little Tony, or Rabbi Henry Sharpstein) and returning him several weeks later in twenty-seven separate Peanut butter jars. This signaled the beginning of a bloodbath.

Dominick (The Herpetologist) Mione shot Lucky Lorenzo (So nicknamed when a bomb that went off under his hat failed to kill him) outside a bar in Macclesfield. In return, Corillo and his men traced Mione to Norwich and made his head into a woodwind instrument. At this point, the Vitale gang, run by Guiseppe Vitale (Real Name Quincy Grindles), made their move to take over all bootlegging East Anglia from Irish Larry Doyle – a racketeer so suspicious that he refused to let anybody in his hometown get behind him, and walked down the street constantly pirouetting and spinning around like a right tit. Doyle was later killed when the Squillante Construction Company decided to erect their new offices on the bridge of his nose. Doyles lieutenant, Little Petey (Big Petey) Ross, now took command; he reinstated the Vitale takeover and lured Vitale to an empty city centre car-park on the pretext that a costume party was being held there. Unsuspecting, Vitale walked into the garage dressed as a giant mouse, and was instantly riddled with machine gun bullets. Out of loyalty to their slain chief, Vitale's men immediately defected to Ross. So did Vitale's fiancĂ©, Dave Morreti, a showgirl and star of hit West End musical 'Shut Your Trap!', who wound up marrying Ross, although she later sued him for divorce, charging that he once spread an unpleasant ointment on her.

Fearing federal intervention, Vincent Columbraro, the Buttered Toast King, called for a truce. (Columbraro had such a tight control over all buttered toast moving in and out of Newcastle that one word from him could ruin breakfast for two thirds of the nation.) All members of thee underworld were summoned to a dinner party in Walker Gate, where Columbraro told them that internal warfare must stop and that from then on they had to dress decently and stop slinking around. Letters formerly signed with a black hand would be in the future signed "Best Wishes," and all territory would be divided equally, with Tyne and Wear going to Columbraro's mother. Thus the Mafia, or Cosa Nostra (literally, 'my toothpaste' or our toothpaste'), was born. Two days later, Columbraro got in a warm Jacuzzi to take a bath and has been missing for the past forty-eight years.


The Cosa Nostra is structured like any government or large corporation – or group of gangsters, for that matter. At the top is the capo di tutti capi, or boss of bosses. Meetings are held at his house, and he is responsible for supplying cold meat and ice cubes. Failure to do so means instant death. (Death, incidentally, is one of the worst things that can happen to a Cosa Nostra member, and may prefer simply to pay a fine.) Under the boss of bosses are his lieutenants, each of whom runs one section of town with his "family." Mafia families do not consist of a wife and children who always go to places like the circus or on picnics. They are actually groups of rather serious men, whose main joy in life comes in seeing how long certain people can stay under the Tyne before they start gurgling.

Initiation into the Mafia is quite complicated. A proposed member is blindfolded and led into a dark room. Pieces of honeydew melons are placed into his pockets, and he is required to hop around on one foot while shouting "Crickey!" at the top of his voice. Next, his lower lip is pulled out and snapped back by all the members of the board, or commisione; some oats are put on his head. If he complains, he is disqualified. If, however, he says, "Good, I like oats on my head," he is welcomed into the brotherhood. This is done by kissing him on the check and shaking his hand. From that moment on, he is not permitted to eat beetroot, to amuse his friends by doing an impression of a hen, or to kill anybody named Vito.


Organised crime is blight on our nation. While many young English kids are lured into a career of crime by its promise of an easy life, most criminal actually must work long hours, frequently in buildings without air-conditioning. Identifying criminals is up to each and everyone of us. Usually they can be recognized by their large cufflinks and their failure to stop eating when the man sitting next to them is hit by a falling anvil. The best methods of combating organized crime are:

1. Telling the criminal you re not at home.

2. Calling the police whenever an unusual number of men from the Sicilian Laundry Company begin singing in your living room.

3. Wiretapping. Wiretapping cannot be employed indiscriminately, but its effectiveness is illustrated by this transcript I found on-line on the F.B.I.'s website. It's of a conversation between two gang bosses in the New York area who's phones had been tapped by the afore mentioned F.B.I.

< O:P>

Anthony : Hello? Rico?

Rico: Hello?

Anthony: Rico?

Rico: Hello

Anthony: Rico?

Rico: I can't hear you.

Anthony: Is that you Rico? I can't hear you.

Rico: What?

Anthony: can you hear me?

Rico: Hello?

Anthony: Rico?

Rico: We have a bad connection.

Anthony: Can you hear me?

Rico: Hello?

Anthony: Rico?

Rico: Hello?

Anthony: Operator, we have a bad connection.

Operator: Hang up and dial again, sir.

Rico: Hello?

Because of this evidence, Anthony (The Fish) Rotunno and Rico Panzini were convicted and are currently serving fifteen years in Sing Sing for illegal possession of New Jersey.

Tuesday, 3 March 2009



Just a quick heads up to let all 2 of our readers know that Fapesta & I will be hosting room 2 of KlickKlack in our official capacity as chief curators of Smug Village (the rumours of that particular parties death are greatly exagerated... well, marginally exagerated at least).

The event features a headline Live set from REBOOT (Cadenza, Cocoon) as well as support from KlickKlacks stellar bunch of residents.

Check out the fezbook bidness here...

& some musicy stuff...

Timos - Vendor (Reboot Remix)

Also, keep checking in to find out about a one off party featuring the ressurection of our favourite Voodoo tinged brand, Featuring an appearance by possibly our favourite Scotsmen since RL Stevenson and Rab Burns.

Citing innit