Sinister: Pinefox on the streets of London

[Alasdair Cook]

Pinefox in the offy; Pinefox in the chip shop, vinegar and chords of toffee. 
Pinefox on the beach, Pinefox making women gasp; something out of reach, 
Pinefox making one last grasp. Pinefox dancing wildly, arms and legs and 
hair; Pinefox walking idly, never quite without a care.

Don't ask me what's going on, I only work here. You Popkids turn me on.

I've been to London town, to see the queen. I glimpsed her sad eyes through 
the palace window, but in a moment she was gone, like so many romances.

I was driven to Oxford (and almost round the proverbial bend) by a mad woman 
coach driver, who at one point leapt up from her position behind the wheel 
to scream "Does everyone know the MP Michael Foot? Look, there he is! Look, 
can you see him, there he is, can you see him!!?, told stories of recent 
coach deaths through NOT LISTENING TO THE DRIVER'S INSTRUCTIONS and other 
tales involving the Iraqi -not the Gulf-war. Interesting.

I saw the band but not the poet and critic Tom()Paulin, who were lovely, and 
the band but not the sculptor and historian The Gentle (!) Waves, who were 
dull in all the right places and acceptable in the some of the wrong ones.

"Ah yes, I recall the first time I encountered this type of salt, twas in 
89, a day like no other, when the clouds seemed to smear the sky with 
nostalgia and the skunks..."

What an aaaaaasshole.

"Truth is often stranger than diction" - Emmitt Runding, 'Wit and it's 
relation to the unconciously boring', 1967. These words came to mind during 
the week when a waitress of a foreign persuasion seemed unable to grasp my 
need for condiments. It kills the grease. Acid can be so troubling, as any 
reader of Kelman knows. Come on McT!

On Saturday I lost a lot of words. Some of them I gave away as cheaply as 
the hours, some of them I hope to retrieve at a future point in time. I only 
hope I can remember them in the meantime.

Peter Miller asked for a review of Sodastream/Mistopher Chris from everyone 
who was there, and I think I was, although it's been a while and my mind is 
foggy. Maybe the doctor told me that I'd lost my memory, I can't remember. 
Anyway, Sodastream were rather nice, although I can't seem to get as 
emotional about them as certain other listees. Still, they played Hope 
Grocery which, in common with Katrina, is my favourite song. The highlight 
of course was witnessing the thrills n spills of a Leonardian performance. 
His throat is sore! He sings on! He's lost his plectrum! He's found it! Oh, 
it was in THERE...
Wonderful. Later on I even found time to spit on David Moore whilst having 
an utterly pointless argument about the sentiments of Neil Young songs. I 
think we called it a draw. Sorry Dave.

Peter may also be interested to know that those gorgeous Foxgloves are 
recording a new track. I shouldn't reveal too much for fear of breaking some 
kind of pact, but it has a line stolen from a song stolen from a poem. See 
if you can guess which one. Oh, and it needs more flutes. I'm sure it'll be 
a hit with the kids anyway.

Alasdair xx
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