What's New iLL Man?

Things that have been filling my admittedly tiny cranial cavity over the past week, causing mild flooding in the left ear and several nosebleeds................

i - What the fuck has happened to the speaking clock? There I am on Sunday morning, attempting to synchronise my alarm clock and I've got fucking 'Tinkerbell' squeaking away at me. I don't know what they've done with the well spoken bloke that usually does it. Is he on holiday? When is he back? I'm getting lonely here....................

ii - Made a cyclist stop at a traffic light yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary in that, but hearing his cries of anguish as he was forced to apply the brakes and obey the rules of the road for once in his fuckwitted life was a rare pleasure. As I watched him approach the lights at something approaching 20mph, I could see the brief flicker of indecision on his face as he considered romping through the crossing. Rather cantankerously, he decided not to. Victory!!

iii - Some household tips. I have triumphed over the mildew currently infesting parts of my house. Well, not entirely, but leaving the bedroom window open in the evenings seems to have sorted the problems in that particular room. Also, re-open yr living room curtains before going to bed is helpful. Don't be conned into buying a de-humidifier folks....

iv - My last trip to the speedway was on Sunday there. I had heard tales from a friend at Ashfield about the female residents of Saracen Street in Possilpark and their thing for pyjamas as streetwear, but I only half believed it. I witnessed the phenomenon for the first time on Sunday afternoon. The look seems to be a Berghaus jacket, a pair of Primark silk-look patterned jammies, either slippers or a pair of trainers and a bag of stuff from the local mini-market. From what I've heard, it's also standard evening wear too..........

I just hope it doesn't catch on with the blokes and I get treated to the sight of fat tattooed lads in boxer shorts and curry stained vests and T-shirts.

v - It would seem that the Democratic candidate for the US presidency suffers a little from an identity crisis in the eyes of some voters. I understand entirely their confusion. For a very long time, I was labouring under the misapprehension that his name was Barry O'Bama and that he was of Irish descent.

You have no idea how glad I was when I found out this wasn't true...................(SATIRE!)

vi - A final thought for the Rangers fan at work who's got a massive chip on his shoulder about not being able to sing certain songs at the football:

The Famine Song is over

Why don't you sing something else................?

Winter Warmer No2 With Me Tonight - The Beach Boys from Smiley Smile

Falling Back

Good old horizontal rain, eh? Winter's here and not a moment too soon........... A perfect afternoon for sitting in with endless cuppas, watching the scores come in (St Johnstone 3 Thistle 0), fiddling about on the guitar (Trying to work out a wee tune to this) and catching the end of a Rog Moore Bond film (The greatest Bond of them all. Fuck you if you disagree!!)

So, get that central heating advanced, buy in some hot chocolate and a shed-load of coffee and tea, and close the curtains, for pissing rain and darkness will be your lot until April at the very least.............

Winter Warmer No1- Television: Little Johnny Jewel

Grinding To A Halt

Blogging ought to be like riding a bike, you should never forget how to do it. However, it's starting to feel like I've done just that. Or maybe I just need to adjust the saddle, fix the brakes and oil the chain. It's also possible that I can't be arsed this weather. It's no excuse though, I used to be able to just write any old horse-shite off the top of my head. Some would contend that I still do, and that this is half the problem. Maybe I should maybe sell the bike and find something else to do.............. On the upside, there will be more Frederick Characteracter stories coming along (if you can bear the suspense of waiting for the next installment!), as well as a few more painfully unamusing 'celebrity endorsements'. The Seasons1:Autumn photo blog is coming to an end, so do please have a look. There shall be a new one in the spring, going by the entirely predictable title of Seasons2:Spring I'm also adding stuff to my Fotonomy account, though 'd say the site is worth going to just to see some of the stunning photos posted up by the other members.

Love Life, Love Liver

This weeks celebrity endorsement comes courtesy of Mike Love, lead singer of the Beach Boys. Hey folks! Mike Love of the Beach Boys here! Y'know, when I'm not spending my whole life touring with a clapped out oldies band, strutting about the stage like an old queen and suing folks, I haul me up a laptop and find out what that crazy motherfucker, The iLL Man is up to. Not much as it turns out, but you know, it's nice to see how the other half lives..................

I'll make this short, I'm late for my afternoon Transcendental Meditation session. Anyway, as I was saying to Paul McCartney in Rishikesh in 1968, the other day....... Later Bitches!

The Occassional Life Of Frederick Characteractor: Pt 2 - Hull

If I were to attempt to define Lawson, I'd regard him as a sardonic and slightly autistic Felix Unger to my Oscar Maddison. A constant source of both amusement and irritation. He had departed a week ago, off to Hull to see a sick relative. That's how he is, dropping everything to visit some ailing aunty or uncle at the drop of a hat. I’d only return home to dance on some one's grave to be honest, but even people I love and adore will be hard pressed to see me at their bedsides. I’ve let it be known to those I hold dear that they’ll never be forgiven if they form a vigil at my side in the final moments. I wouldn’t say I had missed him as such, his nit picking and mother hen clucking drove me wild at times, yet it was reassuring that when he was around, things stayed in balance. When he wasn’t around, chaos ruled and I merely did it’s bidding. Anyway, ever the good little housekeeper, he made me rudely aware of his return and had me up and about at the most ungodly hour imaginable. I was simply not designed to be awake at 8am, but the droning hoover and the sound of Radio 2 whacked up to eleven on the HiFi in the living room ensured that I would never get back to the sweet slumber I had become accustomed to in the past week. I pondered the situation as I pulled on two roughly similar socks that looked like they had endured the least amount of wear since they last visited the washing machine. It looked as if the back door would be my only option for escape. The state the house was in after five days of neglect and hedonism would, quite frankly, have left even the most dissolute of souls wringing their hands in horror. The withering look I’d get from the old tart if I was to attempt to go out the front door would haunt me for most of the morning and I could live without the guilt for another day at least………. I made my way to the back door, only realising too late that the escape route had been ‘alarmed’ with the biggest ruddy set of wind chimes I’d ever seen. Great big metallic fuckers that seemed to descend to the floor. They clattered and clanged endlessly over my head for what seemed like an eternity. They continued to clank away for a few seconds more before I tried to bring them under control, with little success. I only ended up making more noise. The hoover had gone off by now and the radio was down to a sensible level, so Lawson couldn’t help but hear the melee and came scuttling through to the kitchen. Lawson loved wind chimes. I loathed the bloody things, naturally, and constantly complained about him bringing home a new set to put up somewhere around the house. There are senile 90 year old women who would consider you crazy if you did that. That said, we didn’t need a burglar alarm, the last guy to attempt a break and entry job made a noise like a gang of drunken Hari Krishna's and was soon chased into the night. Still, I failed to see why we needed them dangling from the doorway of every room. I had often wondered what one would bring back as a souvenir from a place like Hull. If you were Lawson, you would bring back some windchimes of course. Then again, he could visit the moon and find a gift shop selling the fucking things………… “You’re up early” “Am I?” I replied in feigned ignorance. “I have to get to Euston for half nine, I’m supposed to meet my agent” My agent didn't see anyone before midday, and Lawson knew it. He looked at me like I was a child deceiving it's mother. Which strictly speaking, was true, but we won't get into that just now. I slunk out of the back door, feeling his sad, limpid eyes boring into me with admonishing pity. The last thing I needed or wanted. When you literally crawl home at 3am four times a week, it's a sensation that grows old very quickly........... I left the house with the notion that if I got drunk quickly enough, everything would stop being true.

People Were So Much More Attractive In 1993

Dedicated to mania inducing bores everywhere.

Gob Rot

It started late afternoon on Tuesday. One of the old pegs in the back row was starting to get a little agitated. Caused me no end of gip, so after sleeping on it, I decided that it was a case of 'better out that in' and off I trotted to the Dental Hospital. Ah, the Dental Hospital, that last hope of the impoverished and the jakey old sot, at least it was last time I visited. Back then, it was a case of turning up, taking a ticket and waiting yr turn, no questions asked, no fees demanded. This weather it's all appointments and the recommendation that one brings along at least thirty quid to cover their butchery, though it's nice to see that they still don't tend to ask too many questions. For yr money you get a cheery, affable chap who displays the x-ray of your crumbling molar on a little screen that swings round in front of you as you recline in the more than comfortable chair, before wrenching out the abscessed fucker with little or no fuss. Lovely.

Anyway, I've been feeling a little crappy over the past few days. The swelling from the extraction and the injections is only just starting to go down. I'd recommend that all you kids out there brush your teeth twice a day, but then that's what I did and see where it got me...........!!

So, three times a day it is. Oh, and stay away from booze, Coca Cola, crisps, chocolate, curry...........all the stuff that's good...............

Nah, give me a toothless grin and searing agony any day of the week.......................

I keep making promises to myself to enlist at a nearby NHS dental practice, but I have the feeling that even that would bankrupt me given the current state of my piggy bank. I should have acted long ago and got my mouth sorted, but given that the last lot of treatment was both extensive and expensive, part of you just thinks 'Fuck it!!' and leaves it at that................