November 1998 - Sinister

Sinister: Unsubscribing from the list
by Honey 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

List mummy says: the next person who sends an unsubscribe message to this list address, failing to read the footer on every one of these messages, the notes they got when they joined, and the WWW pages (erm..), will be subjected to two weeks' of afternoon teas with Augusto Pinochet and Mrs Thatcher. If you EVER want to unsubscribe send your mail to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". ***NOT*** this address 'ere. Please everyone on the list now take note too, for when you have to jump ship. honeymummy xxx P.S. Cosier and rambling mail follows, I just had to vent my spleen because no-one wanting to leave will read a long mail. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Exmouth Parade
by Adrian Evans 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

Aranzazu wrote : >What's wrong with going to Exeter ? Anyone want to do a top ten ? Frankly I could do a top 1,000. I'll start you off. 1) Exeter sucks my will to live. >I just spent there three weeks of my life, and spent most of the time in Exmouth and some other >places at the seaside I can only assume you took a wrong turning near Brissle (Bris-tol) somewhere. Around this time last year I moved back home from six months living in Exmouth. It was a short time later my doctor placed me on anti-depressants. >in a trashy club named The Cavern So you may well be familiar with the Old Dukester then ? I'm glad you called it Trashy..it sucks. >Kisses and cuddles to all Devon lovers.Devon is great! Especially >clotted cream or whatever it is called and cottage cheese. Oh lordy I've stumbled accross the Westcountry Tourist Board mailing list by mistake. I'm off for a long weekend before Splat gets here and rips me legs off. Love you all you miserable swine. Adrian.x. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Come to Devon. It's shite but Sainsbury's have got a 'buy one get one free' offer on Clotted Cream" Westcountry Tourist Board. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Scared of Exeter.
by Adrian Evans 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

27 years man and boy (mostly man you understand) I lived in Exeter, and never in my life have I heard of Oliver Hall at the University. Is that the tin-shed behind the Northcott Theatre ? Whatever have you to be scared of ? We're a perfectly civil bunch of axe-wielding, foaming at the mouth type folk. B&S obsessions are a prerequisite of joining the list as are Roger Daltrey haircuts and a liking for cottage-cheese. Oral thrush is optional. The only abnormal thing about you sonny-me-lad is that you chose to come and spend three years of your life in Exeter. Go to the Jolly Porter on St Davids Hill next Friday and meet the Duke. He might even lend you a copy of his much talked of round here book "Jungen Voolach" an essential guide to Swedish barn dancing circa 1827. Still no offers of help on the e-mail front....shame on you. Adrian.x.x. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Rock Family Twee
by poetryplace2 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

Hello again Hey, you know how on New Year's Day 2000 domestic appliances are going to go nuts, and the simple act of switching on your toaster is going to vaporise a city in North Korea? Well things have started going screwy already. The other day I set my video to record "Fort Boyard", channel 5's exciting new action quiz show featuring Melinda Messenger and Dirty Den. However, for some scary technological reason, the video now thinks it is the year 2020. Imagine my surprise when I played back the tape and found the following... Voiceover: And now on BBC52: Rock Family Twee. This week John Peel investigates the turn-of-the-century Glasgow indie-pop scene... John Peel (evidently speaking through some kind of Stephen Hawking speech-sythesizer thingy as he must be about 100 by now): Of all the bands who set the world alight at the end of the twentieth century, perhaps the most curious were those jingle-jangle troubadors known as Belle and Sebastian. With their winsome strumming and ambisexual lyricism they were truly a shambling conundrum, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in mystery. Poised on the brink of global success , they decided to release their potential crossover single "Jenny is a Sad Librarian" as a seventy-three track gramophone cylinder, available only in Surinam, and promoted it with a twelve minute gig onboard a ferry bound for Dunoon. As their fanbase finally lost patience and converted en masse to a shadowy cult lead by Stephen Pastel, the members of B&S scattered to the far corners of the world. But where are they now....? <<Woozy wobbly screen effect>> (A man decked out in Armani and expensive sunglasses sits behind a vast desk in an executive office. Every five minutes he goes to the bathroom and returns, sniffing suspiciously. It is Stuart David. He has cultivated a mid-Atlantic drawl). Listen, you better make this quick, I've gotta sort out a deal with some shmucks from McDonalds who wanna do some kind of merchandising deal to tie-in with the new movie. Belle and Sebastian? Leaving them was the smartest move I ever made. What a bunch of losers. Of course, I don't say no when the guy arrives with the royalty cheques, but _really_. Selling lies to the boys with the old dansettes? Spot on. At one point I wrote the cruddiest song I could imagine - Paper Boat - and they _still_ bought it. That paid for my first Limo... I've got 20 of them now. After the band split I started up Treehouse Studios, and we knocked out Gregory's Girl II: This Time it's Personal. It broke all box-office records in twenty states. As you know, it's turned into quite a profitable little franchise... we're currently in production on the next sequel: Gregory's Girl VII: The Nightmare Continues, in which Clare Grogan comes back from the grave to wreak revenge on Gregory who decided he liked the footballing chick more after all. We got a script by that guy who did Scream 13... we're, like, putting all those horror cliches in a kinda postmodern context, and with some cute Scottish accents! That's the twist! Sorry, gotta go... time is money, asshole! (Cut to a mystery underground bunker, somewhere in Dumfriesshire. A man is clad in combat fatigues, his face obscured by a tartan bandana. It is Chris Geddes). I am not Chris Geddes! I refuse to accept the name given to me by English oppressors. You may now call me Maccaiighghhhgh X. The Dumfries Resistance Brigade is dedicated to the overthrow of the Sassenach Police State by any means necessary. We only agree to this interview if it is conducted entirely in Gaelic. I deny I was ever part of this Belle and Sebastian you talk of. (Cut to the Gugenheim Museum in Bilbao where Sarah is putting the finishing touches to her latest world-conquering exhibition) Yeah, right, well B&S, yeah it was groovy for a while, I mean I think we really upset some conventions there for a while, some of it was really kind of post-faux-naif, you know, really quite radical in a kind of post-Hirst kinda way. But really, painting was always my first love, darling. I mean, I just like to explore different media, it's essential for my personal, like, growth you know? I'm currently working on these silk screen prints of, like, lost Sarah records bands? Everyone loves it. Have you seen my series of 14 Iced Bears in magenta and green? Keep it quite, but I think the Saatchi's are interested. You gotta go? Right well see you at Pharmacy, darling. Mwah, mwah... (Cut to a taxicab in Leytonstone. Isobel is the driver) If you see that fucker Murdoch you tell him that he still owes me three months worth of maintenance for little Belle and Seb. I'll get the bloody Child Support Agency onto that bastard. Last time the bairns saw their father was 2005... he's poncing around in his funny hats, and I'm working three fucking jobs just to keep the kids in new shoes! (Cut to Glasgow Cathedral. Stuart Murdoch is wearing Bishop's robes) Hello, my son. Well, I don't really like to talk about the old days... It was a youthful indiscretion, shall we say. Archbishop Cliff has been very understanding about the whole thing, he's been very helpful. Yes, even after the ,erm, public lavatory incident. It was all a terrible misunderstanding. Now I'm putting all my energy into serving the Lord. I do bring out the old acoustic guitar for the occasional rousing chorus of Kumbaya, though! Keeps the spirits up, you know! I say, young man, would you care for a chocolate finger? Those are very attractive silver trousers you are wearing, by the way, remind me of a pair I used to have. Do you mind if I stroke them? Ah yes... very nice. Isobel who? (Cut back to John Peel) Unfortunately Stevie , Richard and Mick were unavailable for comment as they were touring Butlins Holiday Camps under the name "Sebastian and Belle" (the name was changed for legal reasons) with Chris Leonard, Elliot from ET and Chloe Sevigny making up the numbers. The highlight of their set is a three-minute Jive Bunny style megamix of all the songs on Tigermilk. Next week: The full torrid story of the Andorran Gloomcore scene. _________________________ Stay pressed, Stevie Trousers xxx +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: anita is gonan get her kicks to-night
by donovan nuyen 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

"By the way : have any of you read 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'? I just read it translated into Spanish, so I don't know which English word Holly uses to describe her depressive state of mind, when she plays the guitar sitting on the fire escape ...?That is Malea in the Spanish version." Oh yes, she says she has "the mean reds"... not to be confused with "the blues," but a different, scarier feeling altogether. And the male character says (boringly) "There's a word for that, it's called 'angst.'" I think I prefer "mean reds." I might also add, since my friends and I happen to dub breakfasts at tiffanys, the king and i, and oliver!( it sucks, but the songs are great)... whilst we played goldeneye and WCW wrestling..holly says that the blues arent like the mean reds..the latter being when you get all worried over something but you dont know what...is the breakfast at tiffanys book good? did the movie neglect any memorable characterization?..i worry over this like this ever since i happen to have read oscar and lucinda as it was in the theaters and only rent it last week....the book is fab but the movie was very utilitarian. a modest success... Andre wrote : >Listen to this! I just saw Stuart M (who just got back from the US to cut the new EP) walking down Hyndland Rd, and I must say: OUR ELF BOY WITH ROSY CHEEKS IS NOT THE SAME ANYMORE! Maybe B&S's newfound fame in the US finally got to him and B&S decided to go arena rock, but Struan changed his looks drastically. Besides the aforementioned silver pants, he was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a silver star and the word "zero" written on it! And here comes the worse part: STRUAN SHAVED HIS HEAD!!! this is so great..i only happen to read this now.and had the oppurtunity to watch this gradual realization satire unfold instantly...we have a baby alexander pope here listee wrote: Is there anything to do in this place? Or in Escondido/San Marcos....i'm really looking for comic book or record stores. this got me to thinking..do any of you read comic books? i think they are the misunderstood melding of the painted picture and the painted word. Especially if you are a lazy git like me. I remember someone saying that the U.S. has only 2 things to say that they created, comic books and jazz, and that both art forms are shunned. wait a minute, i got that quote from a comic book. blast. Donatien ______________________________________________________ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: We were sitting on the sofa the wrong way round....
by Oliver Hall 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

Hello peeps, I'm really scared because I've only just joined the list(!!!!). I hope you can make me welcome, and make me feel less abnormal for having my obsessions with B&S!!! ---------------------- Oliver Hall University of Exeter +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Bumpowder, sneezin and snot.#
by ETLRDHY＠notes.ericsson.se 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

Dear Freaks, wHY DON'T YOU ALL GO OUT AND GET JOBS EH YOU BUNCH OF EVIL MISCREANTS. YOu should take a long hard look at yrsleves. Do you think it's clever eh? I was prison for stealing cars, It taught me a lot, about stuff that matters, about your mates. And NONE OF YOU are MY mates. How could I trust any one of you in a strip search situation? Think about it. It's not my fault I'm how they made me arent I eh? BUGERFLAPSTITCOCKARSEWANK, see? It wasn't me who wrote that, oh no!!! It was them, the things in my past. Dark things, mainly. Sometimes I don't know which way to turn, I feel all dirty and sly but then I sudenly feel graceful and free like a little bird on the wing. la la la la. CAn anybody help me? Can you fuck cos if you come anywhere near me I'll stab you in your EYES!!!!!!!!!!! rEGARDS RIchard Healey xxxxx Her NAme his Rio and she dances in my mind................. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: jessica & ahren up a tree / the streets of philadelphia
by gateau du wizz 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

hello - this is quite epic.... firstly, a few weeks ago i posted to the list looking forward to meeting jessica (of which there seemed to be many many listees)....finally the correct jessica came to the fore: ******************************************************* "the last thing: a crushboy update. ahren has brokoen up with his girlfriend (yay!) but is a big commitment-phobe due to her excessive clinginess. i still feel a fire in my loins when we speak. and tonight at work, i just couldn't stop touching him (oh god, how pathetic)..." - Blissxo(a)aol.com, Tue, 3 Nov 1998 23:06:45 EST ******************************************************* aha! this is the jessica!! and ahren!! the jessica i had hoped to meet in philly but i have yet to tell my sorry tale of planes, rental cars and boo-hiss no-play bands....i knew i was not going mad. but this jessica is probably not from philly anyhow....lady p just got her wires crossed. i think i am finally in good enough condition to share my philadelphia experience with you my fellow listees. jamie cola and i attempted to get to london heathrow in good time to catch our flight to new york....anyhow, the tube broke down at acton town and we were left sitting on the platform eating our curds and whey, smoking cigarettes for up on thirty minutes until we decided we were tempting fate and so arose from our arses and defiantly left the platform in favour of the street where we hoped to hail a cab to see us back on our way. alas! every cab had been taken and none of the local cab firms would have one for quite some time...stressed out and panicing we eventually convinced some halfwit to drive us to terminal three (that was the title of the irish runner up entry in the 1984 eurovision song contest eurotrash kids!) and we boarded our plane bound for new york city!! oooh the excitement was mounting....we had arranged to meet up with jamie cola's mysterious lover, fopstar, and the lovely t-bone & desirable specialagent (all of whom had flown in from san francisco) in new york city that very evening. we landed in nu yuk and caught ourselves a cab into manhattan. the driver was all into us being there getting kicks and, when approaching the queensboro bridge (absolutely *NO* tunnels mister!!,) he asked if we wanted to hear an authentic american "rawk station". of course mister cola and i collapsed on the torn leatherette seating in a fit of giggles as the first "rawk" toon to grace our eardrums was none other than "where the streets have no name"....manhattan skyline was pure magic - we were reminded of a movie scene for each of the twinkling lights we saw, we let the windows down and took some photos at fifty miles per hour, our heads dangerously close to decapitation but careless and high on the smell of a new town and the expectation of so much. we partied until four or five first at some awful venue with a cute punk outfit performing then onto some bar where we drank and we smoked and called out each others names over the swing din and buzz of laughter and conversation. and outside in the cold clear dry night. on thursday morning i was harassed telephonically by my host's room mate, a mister van d, who had a thing for irish boys. threatening to "come home and ravage me" was i am sure was only a half serious threat, one which excited me as mister van d was, as they say, "easy on the eye, sharp as a bobby pin". before any such catastrophe occurred i was rescued by mssrs cola and fopstar who picked me up fom my chelsea pad in search of nourishment both culturally and gastronomically. in search of the quintessential new york bagel (yeah!! america!!) we found ourselves instead in a random gourmet situation where we savoured the delights of dining al fresco beneath the warm glow of heat umbrellas in the garden of a quirky greenwich restaurant where one might expect to see the chef take a butcher knife to the maitre d'. afterwards we headed over to little italy in a vain attempt to intercept specialagent and t-bone at chez bigben but instead were distracted by endless purchase scenarios (america!!! consumer heaven!!!) and keanu reeves sightings on broome street. that night the fantabulous host j glammed it up with lady penelope and h at the chelsea pad prior to hitting the wonderful *surface magazine party held on the eighteenth floor of a warehouse a few streets away on the chelsea piers to be hosted by none other than fopstar (among others). carriage to the eighteenth floor was via industrial elevator where perhaps one hundred revellers huddled together as if annihillation were imminent. vodka flowed like evian once inside, flashbulbs, drinks, schmoozing, design speak, invitations to further events were issued, manhattan portage bags EVERYWHERE (sick of them), flashbulbs, specialagent paying lady penelope the attention she deserved...ah memories: but dawhlings, is it fair to have given us the memory of what was, the expectation of what could be when we must suffer what is? *sigh* a select few returned to the chelsea landing strip and then onward we ventured for sushi and drinks where eventually the crowd dispersed leaving only specialagent and lady penelope conversing intensively with abandon. crossing the street and stumbling into another all-night bar (yeah!! america!!) drinking belgian beers, telling truths and smoking much too much. the following morning i phoned mister quentin crisp and asked him to have sunday lunch with me a few days later. we agreed to meet at a diner in the east village. I then went off to greenwich to have lunch with fellow listees babyblu rory and the lovely linda in moustache where i indulged in bland falaffal and could not even have a cigarette...bah! america!! to ease my mind of worry the lovely specialagent and divine t-bone walked into the establishment much to my delight and amusement. at three o'clock i arose and ventured - alone - to thirty-fourth street to pick up our rental car / Belle & Sebastian philadelphia shuttle and signed the papers. once seated in what, to most americans would be you average station wagon but, to lady penelope was a FOOKING MONSTER and i instantly had the fear. we were going to die in this machine with the gears on the steering wheel column (did you ever hear the like????), MISS belle & sebastian and be headline news within hours: "five kids die in pop-frenzy carnage - clueless irish driver blamed". i quickly jumped from the car and demanded that one of the overall sporting "officials" give me a quick once over with the MONSTER. hand brake didn't exist, steering wheel on wrong side, doors automatically locked when the car was in gear (sinister - you ain't going nowhere baby)....debacle. however, i rose to the challenge and managed to navigate my way through midtown manhattan with a bead upon my brow with the help of the following mantra: "must see belle & sebastian, will see belle & sebastian". I got to the chelsea pad where mssrs fopstar and cola were in attendance and we were soon graced with the presence of the dawhling specialagent. plans to pick up the remaining member of the entourage, tiffany, from brooklyn were abandoned when it was disclosed that she was, as we spoke, venturing towards manhattan in a cab. and so it was at a service station on the corner of tenth avenue and twenty third street that we planned our route to philly with the help of a new york road map. Finally at six thirty tiffany appeared and we hit the road. (yeah!! road trip!!). lincoln tunnel for what seemed like an age and then open road, fab toons, road tolls (bah! america!!), some sTRong poot (not indulged in by the ever cautious driving-like-a-demon lady penelope) and the lovely specialagent issuing directions as i drove. the tension was mounting - five delirious globe-totting bunnies off to see their favourite band, faces a-glow with spirit, butterfly-tummied in anticipation. driving through bon jovi land and getting lost off the freeway, getting five conflicting sets of directions from a group of petrol station customers, did an outdoor pee pee thing behind the petrol station and looked at the orange clay soak up the bubble bubbles....bought the classiest lighter (miniature corona bottle) - YAAAAH! TACKY AMERICA!!! great stuff. so we decide to follow one set of directions provided by one who seemed tooned-in so to speak. playing specialagent's mix tape. tired eyes and blurry headlights. boo-hiss! tiffany asleep. end up in an industrial estate...begin to lose faith when lo-and-behold THE FREEWAY again!!! YAAAH! AMERICA!! so at this point we're confident that we're going in the right direction at least; with every sign that said "PHILADELPHIA" a cheer would errupt from within the FOOKING MONSTER and five kids would be all a-glow again, heads a bopping, pigtails a-flying. we drive on this crazy-ass concrete thing for what seems like an age, ascending slowly...we realise it's a bridge and, at the moment we reach the apex, the philadelphia skyline unfolds. more cheers! more heads a bopping, specialagent twiddling on the spaceship dashboard knobs and we have local radio playing some cheesy pretenders song but we don't care and our proverbial pigtails fly again. more poot. lady penelope is tempted but decides instead to continue with the steady flow of parliaments....specialagent lights it for lady penelope and the filter is moist from his lips when the first drag is taken. close and snuggly feelings overcome lady penelope. jamie cola takes some pictures... and then we get lost in the labrynth that is philadelphia to a clueless irish boy with no downtown map....chaos abound, more cigarettes. "need gin, need gin" goes around and around inside the head of lady penelope. we find ourselves dangerously close to the venue, we *know* we are nearby but, instead, we end up on a dead end street lined with cute houses with verandas decorated for halloweeen a week early. reminded me of being in california last christmas where, to me, every house looked like it was lit up to resemble an airport landing strip. i turn the FOOKING MONSTER around and drive to a convenience store where specialagent jumped from the car and found a heaven-sent divine man who told us to "follow me" and practically escorted us to the venue. nobody seemed to think that by saying the venue was opposite the bus terminal would help. landmarks and all. easily identified landmarks. hmmmmmm. we know we are at the venue because of the enormous line of indie kids...we must have looked like kerb-crawling belle & sebastian fans in a station wagon to those of you who were outside around nine fifteen. (i forgive you for the stares.) we parked the car and dilliberate whether or not to bring our cameras....no is the general consensus although tiffany decided to hide hers in her smalls. heh heh. we joined the masses outside. an age passed. specialagent and i returned to the car where we had some poot. i became paranoid. we got inside and hit the bar. diet coke for lady p. we met tweeb0y from the tweekitten cutie club chatroom. i had auditory hallucinations. everyone ordering drinks at the bar was saying my name. oooooh. went to the boys room and splashed water on my face. returned to the crowds it happened again. music they call northern soul...like in shepherds bush after elliot smith before B&S eventually came on. shouldn't it be called eastern soul when it is played in the states? hmmmm. i let that thought slide away like the ice cube slipping down my throat. looking for daisy sporting listees. and then tweeb0y approached in a panic. "have you heard the rumour?" "rumour?" "one of the girls has had to be taken to hospital...the band might cancel". disbelief. felt hot and sweaty. walked away from tweeb0y and found specialagent and tiffany on the left side of the balcony. specialagent was still wearing his parka in the heat. the man has a high heat threshold i observed. Lady P: "erm did you guys hear the rumour?" Specialagent: "uuuuh?" LP: "it seems like the band will cancel because one of the girls is pretty ill" S: "uhhh no, that is a TOTALLY belle and sebastian type rumour...i wouldn't expect anything less at a show they put on." LP: "yeah probably." we chatted about other stuff almost refusing to believe it is a possibility that the band wouldn't play after everyone had travelled so far, audience and band members (london to new york san francisco back to boston). specialagent dropped his drink. we had to get away from the ice. we went downstairs. we stood just behind the sound desk and looked at the stage as chris came out. alone. i'm not feeling good. i hear my name.... the announcement. a boy cried nearby. i am shocked. like really shocked. like i can't accept this. some fooker shouted out "we're going to kill you". i know how he feels. lots of thoughts going thru the mind of lady p. "is it really that serious? is this the type of event that could make the band say it wasn't worth it and break up? was "the girl" okay?" there was a complete lack of information and endless amounts of speculation. another girl cried. eeeek. so i'm standing there with specialagent and i just can't believe it. chris left the stage and the audience gave a sort of "oh well" round of applause. people started to file outside. staff are the rudest i've seen anywhere and i've been to many dodgy ones! complete lack of courtesy, no sense of customer service and zero compassion for those who had paid cash on the night and were leaving the country / eastern seaboard a few days later. whoever suggested the venue as suitable should seriously think again before putting another show on there. gorgeous place but the worst set up ever. a complete fiasco. on the advice of tweeb0y we go to a club called shampoo. awful awful awful dreadful place....someone tried to charge me five dollars for a diet coke. but fopstar met miss gay philadelphia. this post is much too long. apologies. we decided to cut our losses and get out of philadelphia ASAP....we followed tweeb0y in his prized vee dub ("HELLO!! like it's the ONLY orange beetle with black hood in philadelphia") to the freeway when we headed back to new york like five broken and sorry tinkerbells with broken wings. at 4 am we tried to get a motel room in a place called "sleepy meadows". specialagent and fopstar got the room for fifty dollars and when we went around to the room, the driver (of a beat up white car which was circling the complex before) was knocking on the window of what was to be our room. we went back to the office where fopstar and specialagent tried to get the money back in vain. the guy in the car came in behind them and explained that he was just trying to get his jacket which he left in there a few hours earlier....hmmmm. so this seemed a reasonable explanation at 4am and so we drove back around to the room and before we even entered we decided that this place was too dodgy and we would more likely than not have: (a) our stuff stolen (b) throats slashed (c) our only ticket out of new jersey hi-jacked. back to the office where S & F once again tried to get a refund. the guy refused at first but then offered to give half the money back if the guys "just, you know, want to take the room for an hour". so our two cohorts just crease up and the manager finally gives back the cash and we went to a DENNYS for some fud. so we were in denny's under the way-too-bright lights eating at a table in the smoking section opposite a table of unruly types who were making a mess and who then left. the staff were (playfully i hope) kicking the proverbial shit out of one another.....bizzare goings on....AND THEN four big ugly men in deerhunter type jackets (who would most probably give barmaids a hard time) walked in along with a young boy, a deerhunter in training. they walked up to our indiepop contingent and looked at the mess left at the booth opposite. looking at us and then at the mess he said the following which made me quake and my tiara shake: "that's a fucking mess...pigs wouldn't leave such a mess. i'm gonna kick the asses of the assholes who left that mess...i'm not fucking sitting there" and then walked away, thankfully. in his infinite wisdom he obviously thought it was us who had left the mess. hmmmmmm. best let sleeping dogs lie i siad to myself. i went to the bathroom to pick the veggie burger from between my pearly whites only to be interrupted by fopstar who ran in urgently. "p, we have to leave, our lives are in danger...those guys have just made some nasty comment about jamie cola". gawd such drama. so we pile into the FOOKING MOSTER and speculate that those guys were speed freak hunter types indoctrinating an eight year old..... fopstar drove for most of the journey back and i snuggled next to specialagent for a moment in the back....and then was asleep. lady penelope awoke in a deserted times square at dawn. why, we thought, was toilet paper hanging everywhere. "ah, the work of art terrorists" we speculated. it turns out it was ticker-tape from the celebrations of the night before when some important sporting thing happened. we drove over to brooklyn and bought some fresh bread. heading back to manhattan we drove accross the brooklyn bridge and stopped at a lay-by right on the bridge itself and took some photos..... we parked the car next to battery park and smoked some poot while looking at the statue of liberty far away in the bay. returned the car and slept for the sunny afternoon. i am still pissed about the show. not playing even a few songs was a total cop-out. stuart david could even have done spaceboy dreams and made a thousand souls feel better about the shite state of affairs. okay someone was ill. not just someone but amazing isobel who plays her instruments so well and has the voice of a honey-bee on a summers day. "just one song" someone shouted out at chris. "i'm sorry" he said. "pish" is what is say. collectively my friends and i lost a lot of money we don't have. we just love the band. the experience as a whole was certainly interesting, but what was meant to be the reason of the trip turned out to be one debacle i won't get over in a hurry. anyhow, bleesed art thou. padraic / lady penelope / monsieur gateau du wizz. _________________________________________________________ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Boo Unlimited
by Kevan Cooke 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

Thanks for the bus story Neil. What we need is more bus stories. And more cheese. My attempts to become a less fat slug mean that I don't eat much cheese these days, so I rely on tales du fromage from you lot to keep me going. As usual the Guardian has a number of Sinister friendly articles today, like a piece about Beck, a history of the Moog, and an article about A&R people: "They're narcissistic coke fiends with no interest in music" Is this true Katrina? Also included is the revelation that Ron Davies is a fan of the Manic Street Sweepers and the Super Furby Animals. Anyway, I was on the train last night, glancing shyly up from my copy of Exile and Kingdom and brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead, when I thought to myself "How shameless of Philippe to lobby so blatantly for list crush votes!". The merest glimmer of a frown clouded my adorably boyish good looks for a split second, before I returned to gently humming Francoise Hardy and Isaac Hayes songs, and picking biscuit crumbs from my cardigan. Kevan The Lovable Slug *********************************** chickclick.com girl sites that don't fake it. http://www.chickclick.com http://www.chickmail.com *********************************** +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Send in your photos (isobel / frog / gay / crush / scanner / polaroid / hug)
by WeeJay 06 Nov '98

06 Nov '98

You have been busy havent you? Hundreds of mails and I've got to write this now and go eat something while about 20 still sit there. Anyhow, I've been having an off-list conversation that I think must be brought to your attention: > > >Isobel has got green hair. > >We want proof of your frog eating. > > If you can send me a photo showing Isobel with her green hair, I will send > you the bones of the frogs as a proof :)) > > Cheerio, > Philippe So I set this challenge to all you lot. Get to it then. On the Stuart 'I thought he was...!' debate - I never thought he was, mainly because the first I heard of him was 'The State I Am In' in which his brother is gay, so he isn't see? I empathise - everyone seems to think I am too. In fact I've twice had to resort to 'admitting' I am to stop them endlessly going on... What else..? The return of the list crush vote. I didn't get any last time but I was a newbie. And there's no way you lot can see a photo of me as I don't have any photos or a scanner with me. In fact only one person out there has seen so much as a photocopy of a photo of me. I know who I'll be voting for. I'll sigh (sigh! yes, sigh!) off with an ink polaroid: This one is taken in Dan's bedroom. In the centre of the picture is Sam, who's come to appologise to Dan, who isn't there, for screaming when he hugged him. This is because he's had some kind of fit and was sore all round there. Hugging him now is Natalie. Natalie has been encouraged to 'down' half a pint of vodka & coke by us and is now obsessed by hugging anyone who is holding her wallet and telling them she'll love them forever for looking after it. Eddy cruelly threw the wallet to the unaware Sam and now he's trying to extricate himself from Natalie's grasp. Ok, I'm going home now, XXXXXXX WeeJay James(a)twopounds.u-net.com Manipulating you illicitly since 1979 http://www.geocities.com/sunsetstrip/cabaret/5523/ (Which will no longer crash your computer. Hopefully.) +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister(a)majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo(a)majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

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