Cor! What a luvverly bunch of coconuts we all are! Especially people I has bin associating with this unnaturally extended weekend! I am *simply thrilled, honeys* to have been immortalised as a Classy Bird. It's true, goddammit and stuff. -- So anyway, after not _quite_ enough sleep on Friday night, I saddled me little red Peugot burro and headed out from non-sexy Newport on a tangential vector for sexy Milton Keynes, although why I'm not quite sure. Having only got lost once (a nice surprise indeed) I found myself eating nice instant noodles at the abode of Ken (He's Beyond The [Himself] Of Most People) Chu, and forthwith after a short contemplative pause we overloaded the poor burrito with our combined persons and struck out for (Right On) Brighton (Looks A Fright On Drinking All Night. On) where we eventually joined the Bri(ghton)tish S(inister)chool of M(asseev)otoring. In the pub, as has become a scarily expensive habit since. I was so young and innocent once, before ever I glimpsed the baldy pate of Mark (Wet, Stiff and Salty) Casarroto. -- Lots of cool (not to say fecking freezing) activities took place, including righteous booty being kicked at dodgems, and jaws were hauled up from the floor after witnessing Ken's Dazzling DDR Masterclass. I evidently stared offensively at Rob (Handsome) Brennan quite often, for which I don't think I apologised sufficiently (sorry), but it was unintentional and alcohol-fuelled. Luckily he didn't whup my ass for the temerity. Smut was smutted. Drunks were drunker and drunker. Peter (Get) Carter was nearly dead several times, or so we thought. Apologies to those present who I've not the brains to think up insulting middle names for. It's probably for the best, if you think about it really hard. Still, I love you all, unless I don't, in which case I'd still say I loved you right to your face like a scaredy-cat hypocrite. -- Sunday brought Gay Greasy Breakfasting Pleasure (TM), and oh, was it necessary. I followed the stupid trick of drinking loads with the stupider one of waking up after 4 hours' sleep and being unable to regain unconsciousness. Did it again Monday morning, grr. Still, minimalist music was bought and also listened to while wending the merry Oxonian way rather later after sewing up aching sides split with hysterical writhings due to someone taking an hilarious and unwanted paddle. Oh how we shrieked ever-so appealingly. -- Sexalicious Curry. -- Participated in crazy dancing action due to Steve (Ginger) Hewitt's Sussed extravaganza, sans James (Dancing Flapjack - conflation of "dancing hatchback" and "flat cap" - do you see my *genius*?) Danson Hatcher and Ken who went AWOL (indelicately) but WITH Cay (Sweet Sucker) McDermott and other gorgeous types. The Cellar *is* the essence of glamour, dahlinks. -- Not Enough Sleep -- Cap'n Liz's Guided (By Hungover Voices) Tour of Oxford, for the benefit of Ben (Nice Baps, Ma'am) Apps. Finally a use for stuff that clogs up my brainular pores unnecessarily - joy! -- Tea and Toast -- Pub & Pub & Pub: Mondaytime drinking - how decadent, innit. -- Eventually: back to The Cellar for keeping music live hijinks with a shoutily nervous but wonderful Cay, also the very good guitar stylings of Matt (Mediaeval Hair But In A Good Way) Willson. -- Not Enough Sleep -- Culture. But you don't want to hear about that. Also extremely nice sludgy green lentil soup and crusty bread. -- Phew! Marathon for Mammoths or wot! And faulty brain with goldfish memory has blanks in it, so fill 'em in yourselves. As you would anyway, you smutty lot. So it's over and out from me, but I'll not leave without promising to get proper sleep before posting again to relieve you of all this tosh. Liz :x ** I wish I could fly Right up to the sky But I can't - Yes you can! -No I can't. ** _________________________________________________________________ Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+