it seems i am now £105 + train fare richer. how sad.. but enough about that. ticketweb, foundation and all their minions must die..but perhaps i'll do that tomorrow. when i'm not going to any parties.. blake was asking about hefner and spookily mentioned that bible of wank known as Q in the same posting. well, oddly enough, my friend bought a copy of the aforementioned masturzine whilst she was looking after my cats ...perusing it (but only for the pictures...honest) i found the following snippet from a concert review "Live, Hefner add a pedal steel guitar to their standard bass-guitar-drums trio and prove themselves nowhere near as shambolic or weedy as indie peers such as belle and sebastian" so an endorsement from Q at the expense of our darlings. that puts me off a little. the same magazine, by the way, has reviews of mel c and offspring. if that's credible, give me weedy any day well, the weekend was a funny one and no mistake. there i was, saturday afternoon, minding my own business as it swam somewhere beneath the surface of a pint of guinness and guess what happens? i get chatted up by a film star. yeah, i know it sounds glamorous, but he's been following me round all week and its getting a little tedious. anyway, the first thing i know about it is there's the smell of spearmint to my left. i sneak a look round carefully, hoping its that man with the raincoat again. its not. its hugh bloody grant. i point out the part of the pub where the hookers sit and he just smiles, laughs, twinkles his eyes and stares a little. i'm sort of used to this, because the woman who tells me about her communion with jesus at the bus stop has a habit of doing the same thing. so i use the same tactics as i do with her, i smile sweetly, nod and wait for the bus to come. then i realise i'm in a pub and that's not going to happen. anyway, i sit with my legs apart and try to look like a heterosexual. damn, i knew wearing my pink lame boob tube would only cause problems. it doesn't work. he leans over towards me and whispers, somewhat seductively "hey...if i said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?". i tell him i'll do it for fifty quid and a bag of maltesers and nothing less. but it seems he is not going to reward me financially... he says "i have rubber gloves at my flat" i tell him i have a pair of marigolds too, but i only use them to change the cat litter. this silences him for a minute and then he licks my ear. well, that was the end of that. i leave my pint and storm out. god, if i can't have a quiet saturday afternoon planning my sunday morning hangover without hollywood celebrities sniffing round my protrusions, what the hell is the world coming to? people haven't recognised me this week, because i've had to wear a disguise. happily, i think my cunning use of a red kagool and an oven glove has kept the stalker away. although i'm sure i can feel someone watching me as i type... onto other things..if anyone's read this far. all tomorrows pissups sounds grand. i'll bring my bright yellow and pink microphone from the kit kat kafe and we can all sing into it. or not, as the case may be. there's a £5 shop in camden...just think how many pairs of 70s flares you can buy from there for £105.... ian +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+