Just checking to see I can do dis!

And I can. Not a particularly interesting interview, but I still can't help but love old Bill...

Yeeeaaah Bwoyyy!

Vivum eternum Dasyatidae

Stuart Pearce is a rank failure

Man City lost 1-0 away at Reading tonight. No great shakes. These things happen in professional sport. And though there will probably be some young Mancunian who travelled all the way to the arse-end of the M4 only to see his team lose, allow it to affect his psychological make up and probably join a gang by the time he's 12, really the consequences will not be all that great.

But

I do think that this will be the beginning of the end of Stuart Pearce's first job as a football manager. Again, no great shakes for the club and he'll probably get another job (though in all likelihood it won't be as good as working at a MASSIVE CLUB like City). But his sacking will bring to an end a shortlived fancy of mine which went along the lines of: Pearce was the first punk rock loving, Psycho-nicknamed, blood and thunder fullback to, actually, turn out to be a wise and clever man; that his often affable behaviour was the sign of an inner profundity rather than just the mode that he fell into when not switched on 'argy'; and that, indeed, being something other than just a bland clone of all your fellow pros and rejecting their communal love for Phil Collins (then) or Usher (now) would actually stand you in some advantage in the ball game we call foot.

On another matter, this

Smackglam snapshot

I often spend time wondering whether smack (or heroin for all my readers over 50 and I know that's almost all of you) would be a great drug to do/get addicted to you.

A formative experience of my youth wss reading about River Phoenix dying. Some cunt who'd been called on to explain the attraction of a young film star to smack explained it thusly (pretty much): "A lot of people like to go on about how they get high from jogging or shit like that. Well let me tell you, they'd have to jog to the moon to get the kind of high River was on."

And so. I have spent much time since wondering whether, in fact, I should stop fucking around and just get on smack, despite the welter of official propaganda that tries to tell you that, in fact, it's kind of bad for your health. I propose, henceforth, to keep you up to date on my leanings each time I come to contemplate the issue anew, as I did today with this article in the wonderful Mail on Sunday.

This article addresses the plight of Laura McEvoy, who got vague-o famous when top blood poet Pete Doherty was snapped shoving a needle up her armhole.



Laura, according to the Mail, endured a 'nightmare' at the 'court' of 'Pete Doherty' and was doubtless addicted to smack at the end of it, such is the frequency with which she seems to have gone round his house and done 'drugs'. But as you will see from this other picture



She looks pretty good on it.

So, based on this evidence, today's smackglam rating is a septicemiac 7.5 out of 10.

POOP dis!

I was just chilling with a copy of Tatler (yeah, and what, like you don't keep up with where the Spencer-Churchills have been partying this month) when I came across an article. Actually, I didn't ejaculate - cos I was made impotent by rage by this piece by failed Sunday Telegraph editor Sarah Sands on POOPS - People Pushed Out Of Position. I hated this article because:

1/ It was supposed to make you feel sorry for the upper middle class cos they couldn't afford their own private plane.

2/ Said class were actually referred to as 'the middle class'.

3/ I am fed up with those stupid fucking acronyms for everything created on a weekly basis in the hope that someone can say 'I came up with that' like there's a real skill to finding four or more words with initial letters that themselves could add up to a word. I, for one, Can't Understand New Terminology. You get me?

4/ I hate posh women.

5/ In fact, I hate women

6/ Apart from the German Chancellor, Angela Merkel

7/ And Ferne Cotton

8/ Back to the subject...

9/ I also hated the fact that the entire reason for this supposed discontent was a feeling of social inferiority generated by nothing more than an inability to buy as much shit as other people

10/ Grrrr

Mices heads: what's not to eat

get your dirty paws off my cheese!


Quite interested in the bloke who bit the head off a mouse for fun . Mainly I'm interested because it's indicative of the power of the electronic media blah, but also because the cunt couldn't finish his meal.

It's all very well talking big, and, yeah, biting big is tough too. But if you can't chew big and swallow big and pick the little bits of mouse cranium out from inbetween your lower molars and use them to carve "Mousehead dinners for ever" into your forearm then you might as fucking well stick to snorting wkd/ketamine spritzers to impress your mates and don't waste your time fiddling with the big boys.

That is also what I thought on the matter.