The plugged-in amongst you will spot that the title of this post is stolen from an episode from the last series of Battlestar which I haven't managed to see yet because it's on Murdochvision and no bloody way am I giving that bastard any of my wonga. EVER. I only ever read the Times if it's given to me free on a GNER train. And even then, it sucks. I read the Sun sometimes at my wife's nan's house, but then they have all the quality papers - the Sun, the Mirror, the Mail, the Princess Diana memorial circular.
But Murdoch-bashing is too easy and satisfying to make good copy... Anyway, the long and short of it is that the editors are off on holiday to Cornwall for a week and a bit, so there may well be no giroscope until May 29. Having said that, we'll have a laptop with us and I am assured that the wi-fi scene has percolated into the extreme south-west, so who knows? There could still be text-based adventure for you next week, fellow shipmates. In the meantime, can I thoroughly endorse this week's randomly chosen blog, Rainbow Pills.
"Rainbow Pils" with just one 'l' would be more promising (imagine: the wacky adventures of a barman at Yates's Wine Lodge with access to the beer lines and several litres of industrial dye... "that pint looks green!" Nah mate, it's just the weird lighting we got in here.) Instead we get a lot of detail about IKEA and a lot of stuff about not being able to sleep. All I can say is that if blogging apparatus had been around when I was 15 or whatever I'd have been far more shit than this. Such is life. See ya soon!
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2 comments:
If blogging apparatus had been around when you was 15, a peculiar Essexy virtual turf would have been blessed with revolutionary reason outlining reddish fervour and staggering insights into the meaning and value of Weller, Don Host, The Driscolls and Cluster.
One trusts that one is saving the recreation of these for lean blogging times, Dispatches from Cultural Oorlogzone Stardate 1987 - What The Fuck Is Going On?
Or maybe for the novel. One can simply never tell.
I must back to the Battles album, brother, I am sure you understand.
If blogging apparatus had been around when I was 15... maybe everything else would have been completely different too.
1987 What the F***'s Going On - a very appropriate title. I never did find out what was going on that year. It was surely the lamest year of the 80s. Rick Astley ferchrissake. At least '82 had the Goombay Dance Band.
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