Sinister: Preponderently Pre-Bowlie Ponderings

[David Moore]

Evening All,

Firstly, a question for all you philosophy students out there: Can a
mailing list be a mailing list, when nobody sends any mail? Discuss. 

(Preferably on the Jeepster list, so that there's some traffic to enable
new subscribers to tell that they've actually joined.)

Anyway. My plans for intensive training for the Bowlie have gone awry.
Moons ago I resolved to revise hard, listening to the (?) seven B&S tapes
in rotation to arrive at that necessary familiarity with the lyrics, so
that I can mouth all the words in my flat off-key stage whisper during the
gig. I was aiming for total recall, so that the minutest change of words by
Mad Murdoch could result in a knowing smile passing immediately across my
lips, enabling onlookers to realise they were in the presence of a true
believer. 

Failed miserably. For some reason I've been listening to Orbital in the car
(dead loud - scared the boss when I arrived at work the other morning) and
Catatonia (does "hopeless third album" come after "difficult second"?) I
also got dragged off to see The Fun Loving Criminals the other night:
definitely a mistake, as they're one of those weird bands that play for
over an hour and a half, talk to the audience, get people dancing, scary
shit like that. That Huey though, he's a real sort.  That geezer from
Indian Ropeman was scary too, partly because he's the spitting image of my
brother-in-law. 

Stop rambling. What was the answer to Tag's eminently sensible question, as
to how many keys to a Bowlie chalet? I don't recall seeing an answer (or
any jokes about how many B&S fans it might take to turn just one, let alone
several)

Another problem troubling me is who the hell will be in the Stage 2 bit on
Sunday night, and therefore how will 2600 people fit in the Stage 1 bit,
that doesn't hold that many people anyway?

Nearly done. I reckon I can trump you all in the school uniform competition
though. How does a mid 16th-century ensemble of ankle-length navy blue coat
with silver buttons and leather belt, hairy grey breeches with silver
buttons at the knee, long yellow woollen socks, hand-me-down clumpy black
shoes resoled by the school's cobbler, topped off with white bands at the
throat, worn every school day from 11 to 17 years old grab you? Oh, I
forgot the white buttonless shirt, held together by the big safety pin that
went through the bands to hold them in place (& through your windpipe most
mornings as well, at the ungodly hour we had to rise.)

Apologies for the fact that these always look like they were edited by
William Burroughs - it doesn't happen to any other of my mails!

David Moore
Chelmsford, UK
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