Get out of that bed, wash your face and hands. If it^Òs got a sitar on it, I^Òm not bloody well buying it. Do I look like some kind of hippy? I^Òll listen to someone else^Òs, but only so I can pull faces and tut disapprovingly. There is no such thing as a good pop record with a sitar on it, anywhere. The only appropriate use for a sitar in pop music is breaking it in two and sticking the wide end up George Harrison^Òs hippy Beatle arse. And shoving the jagged end up his nose. In the words of the prophet, never trust a hippy. Anyway. Welly welly well, long time no see. I^Òve been wrestling with a beast of a cold as administered to me by my adorable housemates, and I have been inspired to write by the feeling of those khaki-coloured, tobacco-stained throat oysters gliding down my neck. I felt them and thought of you. Well, that and poor constipated Ali Cook^Òs novel method for using his hero to cure his condition:

Michael Stipe sucks. Opening. Closing. Nothing comes out.

Marie wrote:

sigh. can someone please explain to me how a girl is supposed to be Just Friends with a boy she likes very very much?

An unsuccessful course of bromide, then several months of frustration followed by excessive alcohol consumption, drunken confession, ill-considered physical contact, hung-over horror and the swift end of a beautiful friendship. I would guess. Not that I^Òve any experience of such things you understand. Oh, my Joe Jackson correspondent informs me that it^Òs different for girls. Strike the bromide from the above equation. As you were. The evolution of the word ^Ñprops^Ò is an interesting one. It derives from the days when it was the fashion in hip hop circles to wear many heavy gold chains. Those sucker djs who were not street enough to be rolling high with large incomes, or those still at college, did not have the wherewithal to purchase such expensive pieces of metalwork. So they resorted to hiring costume jewellery from theatrical suppliers. Hence they assumed the term ^Ñprops^Ò, theatrical shorthand for stage properties. By and by ^Ñprops^Ò stopped being something fake and started to mean respect for the originators. ^ÑGetting your props^Ò was shorthand for others being prepared to do anything to keep it real. Even if it meant not keeping it real. You see? I read that in a book in the Stevie Trousers pop archive. Other exciting news includes the apparent plans of the mighty Exeter City Football Club to name the new stand they^Òre building (to replace the old Big Bank) The Duke Stand, after Exeter^Òs most famous resident. I can^Òt say I blame them. Exeter Falcons Speedway team apparently have a hot dog stand called Piezoelectric Unit. I've lost my mac. If you find it, will you return it please? My mum sewed my name and address inside it. Mister Stevie ^ÑGor Blimey^Ò Trousers, who is a good boy and loves ^Ñis muvvah, wrote:

Aren^Òt mothers brilliant?

He deliberately neglected Cissy Houston to spite me. It^Òs not surprising that Whitney has grown up so absurd having had such a supreme soul stylist as Missy Cissy as her old mam. I refuse to talk about Auntie Dionne Warwick for personal reasons. Of course you are all welcome to come round, I^Òll be delighted to get my Judds out for you. You can only expect to look at them, though, because if anything other than that bleedin^Ò Spearmint LP goes anywhere near our record player Stevie gets angry. Things get broken. People get hurt. Know what I mean? The LP's not too bad, actually, when it stops sounding like The Jags. I forget the name of June Carter^Òs mother, but she most certainly was in the Carter family. And of course, the extraordinarily ordinary Rosanne Cash is the daughter of June and Mister John the flowerpicker himself. Carlene Carter is also a catkin off one branch or another of that particular family tree, too, and she recorded for King Elvis Costello^Òs record label and married Nick Lowe. Proper little parade of X chromosomes. Has anyone noticed how all the mothers so far have been of a higher musical quality than their spotty offspring? And can I add Rita Marley and Janet Ellis to the list? Someone said:

His **** of the ****** is not so much second to my own, as not even second to my own.

Love / Common People? War / Worlds? Battle Hymn / Republic? Infection / groin area? Clang / Yankee Reaper? Last / Famous International Playboys? Rub / green? Abuse / Caps lock? Gift / Gab? Day / Jackal Grasp / purple lovepump? Stig / Dump? I don^Òt understand. What I will say, however, is that my loathing for the Smiths is the loathing of a love betrayed. Once upon a time I lived for them and they went and turned themselves into the ultimate in cynical exploitation, songs which alternated between hysterical and self-parodic backed by a tedious rock band _ordinaire_. That^Òs what I think. Still love those first two singles though. ^ÑTrina wrote:

i'm trying desperately hard to find a Scottish team to support^Å

I recommend Berwick Rangers. Brian wrote:

i am in the conservatory at the university and nobody there i have met listens to anything remotely hip.

Brian, I can only sympathise. I have been living in Rotherhithe, England for some months now and I^Òve yet to meet anyone who likes any music that is any way hip. Anyone in the South East London area fancy getting together and listening to some hip sounds, that^Òd be great. If you have any idea what is hip and what is not, that^Òd be even better, because then you could tell me what was hip before you came round and I could go to the record shop and buy a record of it. We have Spearmint, if that's any help. Oh, and Cleon, what does UK punk in ^Ò75 consist of? Formative Pistols covering pisspoor Who / Small Faces songs? Oldschrec wrote:

...the great current pop novel "High Fidelity" by Nick Hornby.

Hated it. All those *inaccuracies*. What do you mean the joke's on me?

I've found if one has a large record collection, it is very difficult to sustain an intimate relationship with a mate unless she has a good collection too or appreciates the importance of vinyl, etc...

I've found it necessary that (the possibly hypothetical) she is prepared to put up with a desperate obsessive more interested in label colours and alternate outros than the pile of washing up waiting to be done. But maybe that's just me. Representin da old skool. I gotcha number written on the back of my hand. Cheers King Tubby x __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Bid and sell for free at http://auctions.yahoo.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "jelly-filled danishes" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+