Sinister: Keep on rocking in the twee world!

[Alasdair Cook MS1996]

A WARNING

*On a scale of 1-10 in terms of being really wanky and going on about
what a fantastic time I had in London while pissing off everyone who
isn't me basically, this post is an approximate 16. I'm giving you the
chance to delete now.*

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When is the Robin Hood centre going to be changed to the Robin Stout
centre? The latter is a much more important historical figure. In my
bedroom, at least.

Hmm, I have a strange feeling. Why, yes, I do believe I'm sober.
Although it may not seem that way.

Bloody hell's arses, what a completely awful weekend. Not really of
course, the power of suggestion and all that; it was cocking (cock,
Nick) well amazing in the most amazing sense of the word. I think I
actually had a better time than I would have had if I'd actually gone to
ATP and I saved 100 squid into the bargain. From London zoo. They're in
my bath right now.

Anyway, on to business:
Archel put dainty hands to keyboard and the following was the result:

> imagine, 
> all squeezed up in print next to alisdair and ailsa.  makes me tingle just 
> thinking about it.

And bizarrely enough she almost got her chance on Saturday night/Sunday
morning (and not just in print, neither), and would have done if bloody
"Wowser" Trousers hadn't been so quick into that bed and got himself a
double A side, if you know what I mean. Meat in the sandwich indeed. He
also woke up with some rather strange stains on his shirt which could
not be explained away by anyone present. Someone wasn't telling the
truth. I reckon it was Dastoor, but don't tell him. Of course the stains
could have been obtained on Saturday night at the worst party ever. In
fact it was so bad it was all we could do to steal a mirrorball and run
away. If anyone wants to see it it's up in Trousers' kitchen.

Earlier in the night was tigerbashing, which went well although
ingesting as much fizzy pop as I did has led to some memory blocks, and
questions need to be answered. For example:

Whose hand was that I was holding?
How many people did I invite to Glasgow?
How can a chip shop run out of chips?
Exactly how naked did I get?
How big is Stuart's winky, and why didn't Owen look?
Why does finding an empty shopping trolley in the street and then
pushing each other along in it seem like the most normal thing in the
world when you're pissed?
Did anyone say they'd shag me? Didn't think so.

I do remember though that people asked if 2 different ladies were my
girlfriends, which considering the girls involved was very complimentary
to me and much less so to them. But they weren't.

At the picnic earlier we played football for exactly 19 minutes
according to someone before the rains came and all the soft English
ponces present ran away. It was only a bit of water! However, good old
Touche Turtle scored 2 excellent goals to win us the day, and I got
grass stains. Luckily the Playforth chocolate finger and flump supply
kept me going.

On Friday we discovered that the best B&S song to dance to is officially
Le Pastie..., and that you just can't dance to Hometown Unicorn. And I
almost got very annoyed (a rare event, unless someone says Star Wars is
great) at a barmaid who didn't give me any change from a tenner after
I'd purchased 4 drinks. It took me ten minutes to find out that this was
actually the cost of the drinks, which was mildly embarassing, and
almost made me miss dancing to Vapour Trail.

The night before I was almost carted to hospital in shock after
witnessing the POP sensation for the next century that is Baxendale. I
thought the Clientele were OK, but since hearing them on record they
have now become bloody great. And apparently Baxendale's records are
shite. So it goes.

It was incredibley lovely to meet people for the first time including
Rachel, Jan, Claire, Nic, Craig, Paula, Dan, Dr Sean, Natasha
(officially the best girlfriend in the world), Weejay and Josh from
Holiday. I also got to tell Ian SarahCracknellKidnapper that he's a
genius, which he seemed slightly bemused by. Unfortunately I managed to
miss Juicy Lucy, Spanners and some others, although I may have met them
and just have been too pissed to remember. Which is probably the case. 

Anyway, apologies for being quite hideously drunk almost permanently,
and thanks to everyone, but especially huge thanks to Sez, Tim, Stevie
and Nick for putting me up and for putting up with me, and to Joe
Brooker for being a genius and still humouring me by playing REM songs
for me to (very badly) sing.

The Foxgloves rule. English goats are great. That's all. 

Love,
Alasdair xx

PS You haven't lived until you've tasted Pam Berry's banana bread. And
all she got in return was a silly badge. Good deal, I thought.
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