Posts Tagged ‘London’

Shoes. Basically, a bag made of cow that you put on your feet to stop you getting muddy feet when you’re walking to the shop to buy crisps. I’m not one of those people who goes out of their way to get nice shoes, I’ve had the same pair of trainers for three years, and even though they’re full of holes and have no grip left on the bottom, they’re really comfy and I hope to keep them for ever (or at least until Gem throws them out). I guess I’m kind of a Northern curmudgeon in that respect, the most I’ve ever paid for a pair of shoes for myself was £12, and that was because all the other shops were shut and there was a funeral or something in an hour.

So, when I get asked to review Base London’s AW15 (Autumn/Winter 2015. Took me a while to work that out. No you shut up) I’m somewhat half expecting the population of Huddersfield to form a lynch mob and burn me in a wicker man. just like Edward Woodward, and absolutely nothing like Nicholas Cage. That said, having had these shoes for a couple of weeks (because I am slow at getting round to writing reviews) I can honestly say that I am converted to the lifestyle of fancy designer shoe wearers.



Hey there, how are you? Do anything you regretted last night? Of course you did.
Had too many boozes and ate a kebab made of animals that may or may not be Yaks? Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past you.
Cop off with that girl with the big wart that covers half of her left eye, accidentally calling her Mum as you grope her hairy buttocks? Yeah, twice in one week, and still you don’t call her.

Still it could be worse…

Perhaps you went down a backstreet alley and got a tattoo of your best friend’s private parts on your tummy? Ok, maybe you didn’t go that far, but what if you did? Tattoos are all permanent and if they’re awful, well, you either have to get them covered up with the inky version of drawing rocket thrusters onto a cock and balls to make it look like a spaceship or…


Hey peeps, do you like beer? Do you like Tequila? Do you like Tequila beer? Then you’ve probably already heard of Desperados, the tequila flavoured beer that makes my missus turn into a giggling mess halfway up the stairs. Well, the lovely folk at Desperados, along with UKF are launching CityHack, a competition opportunity for DJs, artists, promoters, designers and general creative folk, giving YOU the opportunity to throw massive, unique parties in one of three UK cities.

Here’s a video about it, watch that…

Right, blogger’s block. I was gonna try and do a request on twitter for topic suggestions but they’ve either gone all serious or they don’t understand the question. Instead, I have been sly and duped them into playing a game of eye spy in an attempt to get one-word topics to write about.
I know, I’m so bloody clever. Send me $400.

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with L.

The lemur is some sort of stupid monkey from Spain or something. It can climb trees and eats a diet of discarded pool inflatables and babies. Their main predator is the OngoBongo beast, which sneaks up on them on Wednesday afternoons and frightens them to death by making them watch surrealist Russian animation from 1976.
Also, what they call Olly Murs in France.

Lampposts were popular in the mid-late 1970s, mainly because they were an excellent meeting area for fondue parties and protected citizens from people who didn’t understand the concept of nipple piercing. They are basically tubes of upright metal with a light on top, and are powered by social despair and the hope of a better tomorrow.

Lurgy is a disease carried by people who have greasy hair and wear glasses. It is contagious by touch, friendly interaction or by going round to their house for tea. It is socially lethal and can lead to your lunchbox getting stolen and all your sandwiches being thrown at the gypsies that are camped out on the top school playing field.

Some sort of woman who likes touching other women on the twinkle. The reality of this is much less depressing and grossly less photogenic than displayed in movies, magazines and my imagination.
They all used to wear dungarees but stopped when everyone noticed.

A mediocre singer from the 80s who tried to regain popularity in the mid-2000s by appearing on various reality tv shows. Has or maybe had daft hair.

A cramped, dirty city full of people who think they are cool and places that people think are important. All the important events and such happen here because the people who think they are cool like to make the places that people think are important more important by having Paul McCartney do a shit on the roof.
I haven’t been in a while because it is very unwelcoming to outsiders because outsiders are apparently not cool and their places aren’t important.