Honestly! Anyone who has seen the Blair Witch project and wasn't [scared / bored]* shitless is a brainless poltroon with less idea what makes a good movie than The Divine Comedy have about instinct. The film is a crock of [gold / shit]*. One's opinion on this film is not a matter of taste, it is a statement of one's political-philosohical weltanschauung. Anyone who doesn't enjoy it is [an intellectual giant / blatantly as thick as congealed zebra shite / a scumsucking bucket of pig bollocks]*. That film made me [laugh / cry / shake / want to hurl / write a poem / five pounds thirty five pence and a big chewy lovebite / a man]*. What's more the film is [a cultural phenomenon / just another piece of marketing bullshit]* because it is the first film where [internet "word of mouse" has made it a huge hit / the internet has been cynically exploited as a direct marketing tool]*. And YOU are [part of it / falling for it]*. I'm sorry but I feel very strongly about this. Now I have got that off my chest I can get on with my diary of what has been happening in Tim-land, because I know that you know that I know that you want to know. I think a "what the hell does scare you then" thread is a great idea. I am scared by big dogs, followers of rugby union and the thought of being made to listen to 'Ummagumma'. Ever. I am also scared of using the telephone, 4AD Records t-shirts and the power of female sexuality. Although of course I would tend to equate gender less directly with physique than some. So it goes. Apart from that, the only things that scare me are taking records back to shops for refunds, being looked at askance and the phrase "time gentlemen please". I was going to contribute to the five finger shuffle thread, but that scrounging git CookMS1996 went and stole my best line (shaking hands with the unemployed). Clearly football skills of that kind are only learned while living the life of a street urchin and stealing whatever you needed to eat. The skanker. You know he only puts that Scottish accent on to impress American ladies? His real speaking voice is a very thick Droitwich brogue. Imagining Scottish Grandfathers off the telly is sad. We thought up a new euphemism last night, just before Steady Mike began his accapella elbow fart rendition of 'Turn, Turn, Turn': Jazz Strumming. How can it be true that there is one true love in the world for any one person, when beer, gin *and* cigarettes exist? EH? Last week I saw the Tindersticks and this week I saw The Clientele. Both were very great indeed. Tindersticks, like B&S, have taken up some soul influences (they covered Oddysey's marvellous 'If You're Looking For A Way Out' and Anne Peebles's much more marvellous, in fact total undisputably genius 'Walking the Wrong Way Down A One Way Street'). They did them both very nicely, thank you for asking. Did I say it was marvellous? Oh, well I should have. Clientele, on the other hand, could be custom made for fans of Felt and Galaxie 500. I am not the worlds biggest fan of either of those groups (that honour goes to a stupendously fat man who lives somewhere just outside Leicester, I am told, although apparently I was close). I think that, too often, Felt and G500 hadn't the songs to underpin their fabulous noise, but the thing about Clientele is that they are really rather fucking good, although I haven't heard their records so they might be great live and terrible on record for all I know. The exciting thing is that I think I have found a new band to love. That's nice, isn't it? You are all no doubt sick to the back teeth (what a pleasant phrase...) of tales of the London picnic shindig. Much fun was had by all, except the small cabal of young men and women wandering forlornly around Primrose Hill, with lower-lips (!) all a-tremble, saying "I wish Nick Dastoor was here". The high point of the picnic for me was being regaled with rock and roll road tales from Mr David Moore Chelmsford UK's time roadieing (sp?) for Blodwyn Pig and Man. That's enough of that, I'm off to the toilet for a ham shank, a little jazz strum, a spot of executive relief, as it were, from the contemplation of my inferiority. Sex, like life, is fundamentally a big competition and once again I've lost without even knowing I was in the contest. What a pisser. Just as well having my arse kicked gives me the hard horn. Feeling kind of benign as I bask in the glory of the close-season coming to an end, Tim _____________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Free instant messaging and more at http://messenger.yahoo.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". 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