John Grant

This is a song by the Czars, John Grant's first band. More to come later in the week. Hope you like.....

Five Years Feels Like A Lifetime

It is now, more than any other time in my life, that I feel like an old fart on the internet. Yes, Facebook went down for a couple of hours on Thursday and it's a fucking news story.........

Oh how I chuckled as the memories came flooding back. Trying to get logged into Blogger. Trying to post up pictures on Blogger. Trying to post anything on Blogger!!

There will come a time when every single fucking lifeform on the face of this God-forsaken ball of dirt will have a Facebook account, so I think it's only right that the current users get broken in with regard to regular 'outages'. They need to get used to the misery of not being able to log in and make inane comments about things other people have said, or inform the world at large that they "Can't wait for the weekend". They need to find the mental courage to be able to go a whole afternoon without displaying baby scans or spouting poorly thought out political opinions.

They need to understand that Farmville may well be unavailable for weeks on end on some occassions, and that all meaning will evacuate their lives in this interim period.

Those who can live with such a burden will grow strong and forge normal lives, doing something less boring instead.

The rest will open fucking Blogger accounts and make my ruddy life a misery again.

The cunts.

Listen To This No 18

One of the greatest songs ever written. Adore it you twats, and dare not mention that gaggle of soft metal twots from Sheffield!!

Entries of note in that chart. Hamilton Bohannon. Twice't. Next!

You Don't Know Who You're Dealing With, Do You?

I’m behind the clock and I have to deliver. I take a left at the crescent, down the hill, gathering speed, crouched behind the bars, a devotee at the church of aerodynamics. What was it old Kev Schwantz used to say? “See God, then back off….” Many people want me to die. Some for good reason, others for no reason at all. They all have their chances and I don’t always make it hard for them. It’s the way of my kind. The roads are quiet and I open her out, feel the power throb through the bars, the hum and rumble of the engine and road surface, the trees at the side of the road pressing down on me, accentuating the sense of speed. My mother had warned me about this sort of work, but nights like this always made it worthwhile. A gravel driveway leads me to the door of a large white building. I park the bike and extract the package, checking my flanks for possible attacks. I press the doorbell and wait…….. “You’re late! Let me check this stuff.” “It’s not very hot, is it? I asked for Meat Feast, not Pepperoni!! And I said no bloody pineapple on the Special! Jesus! you people! Take it all back, I’m not payin’ for this crap……….” The door slams, but I know he’s bluffing. I wait for the lights to go out then post it, bit by bit, through his letterbox. He’ll thank me in the morning………..

The Weekend Went Much As Planned

I told her I couldn’t meet her anymore, I told her that it was over. She dropped her head so I couldn’t see what was in her eyes. Tears? Yes, probably tears. She was sobbing, but almost silently, for which I was grateful. If you didn’t know better you would have been forgiven for thinking she was merely staring at her coffee. I got up to leave, not having bought anything, as I hadn’t anticipated that it would be anything other than the briefest of meetings. I stopped on the way to the door and looked back. She was still sitting with her head bowed. I walked back to her and she looked up at me through smeared mascara and grimy tears, a pleading look on her face. I put some coins on the formica table, to pay for the coffee. I’m not completely heartless, she’d get over it in a day or two, just as I would. They say she had been hanging from the branches of the tree for two days when they cut her down. I was out of town on the day, much to my relief. The post-mortem found she had been pregnant. Terrible. To do that to an innocent life, sheer selfishness, only adding weight to the belief that I was right to curtail our dalliance. It would never have worked, though I still wonder to this day whose offspring she was carrying............

Please Keep To The Left

Susannah. On my mind again Susannah..... The roof came in on us a long time ago Suz, but you still hook up in my head when I need you least. It's not a bad thing, but you're obscuring my view honey...... Eyes down on the escalator again. Glass and steel and feet. The unholy trinity. The sound of children pulls me back to reality and a shiver runs down my spine. They're heading down the way into the Metro. I relax and I return my gaze to the figure in front of me. A tall gent with fair hair, a grey raincoat and a battered brown briefcase fidgets in front of me. Behind is an elderly Indian woman carrying what looks to be a months shopping in a thin blue polythene bag, stretched to translucency and defying gravity. Neither looks like they'll make it home intact. Subconsciously I move my hand to my left pocket and back again. Safe. Hidden. They'll never know. To a detached viewpoint, we all crest the rise as one. From where I stand, the horizon never seems to come. Suddenly I catch sight of the shiny station floor and with my last ounce of will I switch my mind off and wait. I see the shoes. It's all I need. Grey espadrilles, white socks....... Pop Pop!! Then I'm at the station exit before anyone knows what happened. Susannah. On my mind again Susannah. That one was for you, wherever you are......

Testing The Water

There was an odd smell I couldn't quite place as I entered the main room of the club. From the doorway I saw two pairs of legs sticking out of the gap the end of the bar. The legs were tangled and moving furiously around each other. I figured that maybe Harry was a little frisky since he split with Dora, had asked one of the barmaids to come in and "help with inventory" 'You tryin' to screw the cleanin' lady again Harry, ya sick fuck!' I hollered. No answer. I moved in closer, the grunting and scuffling more audible now. They sounded like they were really attacking each other. I stopped about thirty feet from the bar and decided this was not something I needed to see. I was about to turn and leave them to rut like fiends, when a distinctly un-female voice roared in pain. Then a choking, gurgling noise and a handful of laboured breaths....... Silence. 'Ok, not good' I thought. This wasn't the sort of thing you associated with harmless employer/employee slap and tickle sessions. I ran to the bar and peered over. Harry was crouched over the motionless body of a guy with long greasy hair, a goatee and blue denim jacket. 'Ok, now that's kinky' I said with a raised eyebrow. Harry looked up at me, sweating and dishevilled and laid a bloody knife on the bar top. It was what he used to cut the lemons for drinks. The body the knife had just been removed from was that of Bobby Cain, a psychotic small time pimp and dealer who maintained his foothold in the underworld with periodic acts of wanton, if localised violence. He had been a great deal of trouble to us in our enterprises in the past few months and was never willing to accept that we had no interest in cutting him in on what we had going. It looked like Harry had finally put this particular deal to bed.

'So, I see ya iced that fucker at last bro" I smirked as I ran my fingers absently about in the blood from the murder weapon . Harry stared balefully at me.

'Fuck yr comedy routines you ugly cocksucker, just get me a bucket of warm water and some towels so I can mop up what's left of Huggy Bear here.'

I did as I was asked, I could tell he was in no mood. Mr Cain's absence would not go un-noticed for too long, too many folk were dependent on him, and I'm not talking about his clientele or his girls. The cops cut him enough slack in return for info on some of the bigger fish in the pond. I had a nasty feeling Harry & I were about to graduate.......

'Oh, and a couple of laundry bags too. We're gonna have to cart this fucker off and give him a proper burial.....'

'How do you give a piece of shit like that a proper burial?' I asked

'Well,' continued Harry with a tone of rising impatience, 'we put him in the back of the van, drive upstate for a few hours, and then dump the little bitch in the deepest, darkest lake we can find, complete with enough ballast to make sure he never re-surfaces.

'Do we have a.........'

'The boat will meet us at 8pm. Any more questions?'

I was impressed. All sorted and the body wasn't even cold. It looked like it had all been planned, apart from my appearance. I hadn't been due in that day and it made sense that as few people be involved as possible. I was here now though and I fancied a bit of a trip out of town. Upstate was nice at this time of year, though the idea of sharing a van with a dead body didn't fill me with joy. Harry sat at the wheel of the van, the engine turning over gently while he stared trance like into the alleyway. I climbed in and immediately realised just how tense he was. After about a minute, we hadn't moved and I noticed his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that they were almost devoid of colour. I prised his hands off the wheel and opened the door for him.

'This ones mine, you've done the hard bit' I assured him as he climbed wearily from the vehicle.

The map was in the glove compartment and the cell phone would ring and three men would set sail for a new world in the dead of night. Poor Bobby wouldn't be making the return journey of course, we were dropping him off at his very own 'pool party for one'.

I'd heard he wasn't a very good swimmer..................