Sinister: "Be true to yourself. And look good while you're at it."

[Miss Marianna Longmire]

Yes, Strange Fruit was rather good wasn't it? The bands were so-so, but grow
me a monobrow and call me Olaf if the Strange Fruit posse didn't pull out
all the stops on throwing, quite possibly, the BEST club night of the year.

Personal highlights.

. The uber bi-atchy door bitches. A position I aspire to attain.
. Miss Sarah Garrett Sonner's impeccable dancing arm movements.
. Mr Greg Pallis sporting an 80s-esque collar worthy of Jacque Lu Cont.
. Bootlegs galore
. An unfaultable play list from the DJ of Genius - Pulp, Baxendale,
Fischerspooner, Le Tigre.

And of course, Mr Mark Casarotto kindly played Chicks on Speed's "Glamour
Girl" for me. Swoon. I love "Glamour Girl". I love the fact it's a perfect
six minute slice of euro clash nonsense. I love the fact it's sung by
mentalists sporting paper dresses held together with gaffa tape. I love the
fact the opening and closing samples are vocal stabs from Take That. And I
adore the fact that the Chicks didn't even know it.

MISS MARIANNA: "Glamour Girls" is great. Two of my favourite, diametrically
opposed bands combined on one record. Any particular reason for choosing
Take That as your opening and closing samples?
CHICK M: What? Oh my god! Oh no, I didn't know that!
CHICK K: <Uncontrollable laughter>
CHICK A: That's so funny, that's so cool. We made that with Punk Anderson
and I always assumed that was him.

Chicks on Speed are, quite simply, the tits. They were one of the first
bands to make me throw off my indie shackles and re-discover the joys of
frivolous glamour and hipster superficiality. It was because of them I
bleached my hair. It was because of them I bought killer high heel boots and
it was because of them that I wrapped loose scraps of material around my
body and secured it with staples and ribbons so I could wear DIY fashion to
parties. The Chicks changed my world. Not since falling in love with Edward
Furlong had I deliberately changed my style to echo that of my idols*. It
was all nonsense of course, but somehow everything seemed terribly important
again. I was so excited by music again that certain tracks made me
physically ill. They were that good. So I went back to playing piano and
quit frequenting the Grosvenor to see who else had thrown a three-piece
together. And I held lounge room discos in my apartment, and I was utterly,
utterly content with the world and my place in it.

D.I.G.R.E.S.S.I.O.N.S. Big, fat, blubbery apologies.

What was I doing? Attempting some sort of ramshackle reporting back post to
support the theories of Ken and Rob that fun was had. Right then. Other
London Sinister gatherings of note:

Sarah Garrett Sonner, Ken Chu, Liz Daplyn, Mark Casarotto and I formed a
team to battle the wit of a certain celebrity crush of mine through the
medium of a pub quiz. Our table was the amusingly titled Rah, Rah
Rasputeenz. We did rather well, score wise. Crush wise, I made do with a
grand entrance followed by intense eye contact. The seeds have been planted.
mua ha ha.

Another evening saw the aforementioned joined by Stevie Trousers, Sunnyset,
Rachel London, Dimitra and Stefano for some karaoke warbling at the King of
Corsica. There were pints of bitter for £1. ONE POUND! Not surprisingly, we
were all suitably inebriated yet still, the Sinister Massiiiiive were superb
in their respective performances; Casarotto in fine falsetto form as he
stormed through "Baby One More Time", Rachel plural doing "Back for Good",
Stefano singing "What I Am", Liz out-simmering Ms Ellis Bextor in Spiller
glory, Ken storming through "Brown Eyed Girl" and then there was Stevie,
out-rocking us all with "I love Rock 'n Roll". Later, soiree at Rachel
London's for drinks, tunes and dare-devil hanging out of windows. Kick Ass.

There was picnicking. And bowling too. But others should really expound on
these.

xx Miss Marianna Longmire

* I grew my fringe out to match his coiffeur in Terminator 2. Somehow, I
thought that if I had the same hairstyle as the spunky Master Furlong, I
would be a shoe-in for his wife. I was 12. It made sense at the time.

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