Emo as Fuck

BEDFORD ROAD: So I've basically polished off three quarters of a coconut and while I've been sitting inside applying for jobs (the tally stands at 53 now) the beautiful sun has been battered into submission by the clouds so my afternoon plan, of a laze on the common, seems somewhat spoiled.

Anyways those of you of an emo bent might be interested to know I went to see Death Cab for Cutie at the Brixton Academy last night. On my own. (Is that sad? I don't think so, I got there as they were playing and left when they finished so I probably wouldn't have spoken to anyone anyway. Maybe the fact that I had to come home eat £2 chicken, drink beer and watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart on my own is, but the concert solo I could handle.) And they were fantastic. Not as good as the Lips but then how far will I get if I insist on comparing everything to that.

They played most of their hits with "What Sarah Said", "Soul Meets Body" and "Transatlantacism" as the highlights. The absolute apex was a thumping version of "We Look Like Giants" with an extended drum jam with a guest 2nd drummer and after that their encore looked a little weak. The most surprising thing was how many Amercians were there. Every second conversation I overheard was in "American" and judging by the number of polo shirts, they're a much more mainstream band over there.

Anyway on another note I'm still waiting to hear back about my dream job. Some of you may know that I went for an interview a couple of weeks back for what would be my dream job. However I'm yet to hear anything other than positives that are balanced by indecision. If that makes any sense? The long and the short of it is that I'm stuck in this purgatory. If anybody has ideas for mental balance, there's a comments link on the bottom of this page that you all seem to be ignoring.

Recent Search Strings

BEDFORD ROAD: On the eve of my thousandth visitor - in six months - I thought I'd check out the stats on my counter page and I came across the ten most recent search strings so I thought I'd share them:

"lucas neill" +biography

gnarls hyde

there's only one timmy

la propaganda de jogo bonito

just another aussie bogan

propaganda of jogo bonito

little known facts about chuck norris

google, "world cup". football, korea, new malden

liam ferney

"genocide tourism"

Ann Coulter

CANARY WHARF: So I'm exceedingly bored at work, twiddling my thumbs until I tender my resignation, having read every article published about the Socceroos anywhere across the globe, and I decide to finally check out Ann Coulter's homepage. For those of you unfamiliar with Ann Coulter, she's a blonde, right wing commentator who make Fox News look Noam Chomsky. For an example check this out:

"On the bright side, if President Bush's amnesty proposal for illegal immigrants ends up hurting Republicans and we lose Congress this November, maybe the Democrats will impeach him and we'll get Cheney as president."

So maybe the devil doesn't have horns after all? Now here's the thing... there's a comment function on blogger which some of you are far more familiar than others. I'm asking everybody to provide descriptions of what life would be like under a Pax Americana headed not by Dubbya but his evil backroom boy. There will be a prize for the best entry.

For more check this out. Though be prepared to be enraged. Be very enraged.

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

BEDFORD ROAD: Went to the 02 Wireless Festival which, as it turns out, is a huge marketing maneouver by a telco but nevermind when it gives you the chance to see Mojave 3, Pharell, Gnarls Barkley, The Flaming Lips and Massive Attack in Hyde Park on a midsummers Friday afternoon.

The Lips were awesome, possibly even outdoing the show from the Big Day Out a couple of years ago. The set list included thumping versions of Free Radical, Yoshimi, Race for the Prize and Do You Realise? They dedicated a ten-minute singalong version of Bohemian Rhapsody to the England team's 2nd round match against Ecuador and they delivered a mind blowing, ploticised version of The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song. All this flanked by people in giant inflatable robot suits, dancing Santas, balloons, a rainbow coloured ticker tape finale and even a marriage proposal. Massive Attack followed it up with a great set that included Shara Nelson, the original vocalist, singing on Unfinished Sympathy and Horace Andy on a host of numbers from Blue Lines. Even Gnarls Barkley, with a three piece string section, guitar, base, drums, 2 x DJ and backing singers was amazing.

Then afterwards we hung out in a flat in Finsbury Park listening to Sam Cooke records until it was time to go home. Whereupon we fell asleep on our night bus and didn't wake up again until we were halfway BACK to Finsbury Park. Joy. Still its the Socceroos v. the Azzuri (which side is Lygon St. on?) tomorrow and Death Cab at Brixton Academy on Wednesday night.


paka

If you could blow up the world with the flick of a switch
Would you do it?
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
If you could make everybody poor just so you could be rich
Would you do it?
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

Australian as Sterjovski

BEDFORD ROAD: So ahead of tonights showdown, what can we say about the Socceroos? Before the tournament I thought we were every chance to make the second round, and now on the verge, even though I'd desperately like us to go through, going out in a hard fought game tonight would not mean this tournament was a disappointment.

It's been a wonderful two weeks, from Tim Cahill's delirious double to Lucas Neill's powerful, precise tackling, we have looked like we belong. I never thought I'd be desperately hoping for an equaliser in the last ten minutes against the Brazilians. Yet somehow the Socceroos played well enough to take me on a flight of fancy, contemplating a different opponent after topping our group ahead of Brazil.

It wasn't to be and it was some consolation that the late second goal was scored not by a Ronaldo or a Rohnaldino, certainly not a Socrates, but a Fred. A name that seems far more comfortable before a Gasnier, a Churchill, or a Skilton than it does in the exoticism of the Selecao. But then maybe you could just call it another strike by three-meat-and-veg Australia against the beautiful game.

More Photos

My estate

Welcome to Sarajevo

BEDFORD CITY: It's a little known fact, but London is actually an intricately constructed simulacrum designed to acclimatise foreign correspondents for the pressure cooker environment of war. My proof: on Friday we were standing around drinking cider having just polished off a couple of tasty plates of homemade hamburgers when Chris came home.

"Rob, your not going to be able to put a parking ticket on your car. There putting up a police cordon in the next street," he said.

Then Donna came home and added: "There's police everywhere. They've got one street blocked off, another car with a pile of clothes on the footpath taped. And there was a belt in the middle on Bedford Road."

Me and Rob both said we had to see this so with a parking permit as an excuse we marched down the street. And the top of the next street down their were two laconic coppers leaning against a police car, sending text messages and idling out the friday afternoon.

"Mate, I've got to change a parking permit. It's parked up the street," Rob said.

"No worry's mate. She'll be finished in a second."

"What was going on?"

"There was a stabbing. It was fatal. Actually it wasn't. It was at first but now it's not."

"True?"

"Yeah mate she should be finished soon and you can change the parking permit."

"At least it keeps the property prices stable," I chip in.

Further down the street there is indeed another car blocked off, a random pile of clothes strewn all over the footpath and, as Donna said, a random, seemingly unconnected silver belt.

But there's been absolutely nothing in the news. We did find a stabbing in Brixton in a local newspaper that happened around the same time. Except that was on Monday. And our stabbing was last Friday. And the next day when I went back to take pictures of the blood stain it was all but scrubbed off.

My Housemates

My housemates: Chris and Rob

Some Pictures From My Brand New Digital Camera

The view from the cafeteria at work



By the Thames at Richmond with Rob the day I bunked off work



Some photos by Rob of Rachel Whiteread's Embankment at the Tate Modern



Elmismo tambien

Jogo Bonito

BEDFORD ROAD: With day still bright in the night air, summer in London seems bursting in its own exuberance. I take great joy from taking the micky out this country and its tower blocks, its defeatism and its dysfunction. However, on nights like these, after days like these it all seems worth it.

I spent the morning chowing own on homemade fruit salad, played football on the common (scored a goal and played in three winning sides in case you're wondering), met the boys at this pub The Falcon with an outstanding beer garden afterwards, before settling in to watch the USA tackle the Italians in what is, thus far, a most engrossing match.

And in between games I could wander up to the shops, past the crowds of dancing Carribeans outside the bet shop, to buy a plate of jerk chicken and rice and peas that would fill the belly of the most belicose dragon.

All is, it would seem my good readers, good. And hands up if you're not loving the World Cup? The excitement and exurberance of the Aussies and the Ivorians, the breathtaking beauty of Argintians, the suprise of the Ghanians and the Equadorians and even the sadness, nervousness and general clumsiness of the English seems amusingly endearing.

The World Cup is also a wonderful time to learn about your neighbourhood. I would never have known there was a thriving Portugeuse community down the road in Vauxhall and Stockwell until the flags appeared draped from thousands of hatchbacks and delivery vans. She Bu is a riot of T&T flags and the Polish pubs proudly fly the flag. It is truly jogo bonito.

MJ's Doppelganger

BEDFORD ROAD: The temperature dipped this morning, to a bone chilling 16C, but that was enough to justify trying on my schmick new Nike skins and heading out for a run. And didn't I cut a fetching figure, even if I do say so myself. Kind of like Michael Johnson, only much paler with considerably smaller thighs. But I managed to stay on the road for fifty minutes which, hopefully, will keep me in good stead for my 10K Run London outing on July 2. It'll be just like one of thos open topped buses full of jawwide Americans you see ringing Trafalgar Square. Only sweatier. Or maybe not.

Anyway I hope you're all enjoying the World Cup. The Australian game was obviously the most exciting, though the Argies v. Ivory Coast was a cracker, Lee Chon-Soo's goal was a blinder and the last fifteen mintues of the Poland Germany game is turning into a defensive cracker. Well bring on the Brazilians, lets just hope Lucas Neill and Tim Cahill can avoid the attention of over zealous referees.

There's Only One Timmy Cahill, There's Only One Timmy Cahill, There's Only One Timmy Ca-hill!

The Shadow of the Post That Was Lost

BEDFORD ROAD: We might almost call this the post that almost never got written. All week I've sat down to add a few humble thoughts to this humble digital toilet wall but things have inevitably arisen. It's been a hectic birthday week punctuated by the cruel rhythm of 6:45 starts. Rising at five certainly adds a keenness to your demeanour.

Well that was cruel - I just lost a huge chuck of this post that detailed all of my birthday presents and their givers. Well you know who you are, the presents were wonderful, thank you. On another note I also discussed my proficiency, or lack thereof, in a game of football I had on the Common on Thursday night with some people I met over the internet. (Hold the Lib Dem jokes and innuendos.)

Then with the World Cup kicking off I've just been getting into the rhythms of the glorious summer. Ivory Coast v. Argentina last night was amazing, while the first two games on the opening night were a bit of fun as well. Big things tomorrow however. Bring It.

For everything else, there's Rob...

BEDFORD ROAD: Meal, £200; Singing wankered in a noraebang with your mates £60; The expression on Rob's face when we told him the meal was £800, priceless!

Unions... Fuck 'Em

BEDFORD ROAD: So I'm finally over the flu and, after more false starts than Richmond, it seems like summer is here. Well it was on Saturday anyway. After making some odd random trek through the waste lands of White City to pick up an envelope from Royal Mail - God bless 'em - I called up Flo to see what sort of sunshine action they had planned for the day.

So after a blueberry pancake breakfast, a pit stop of beer and snacks, we were chilling in the long grass in the wilds of Hampstead Heath. With I-pod tunes and city views - though truth be told this city probably has the worst city scape I've ever seen - it was the perfect way to spend the next six or seven hours. It was literally the best day since I'd been in Brighton.

Other than that I haven't really been doing too much lately - work kind of blew up in my face so now I'm just wiping the engine oil (or newspaper ink)off my face as I wade through a quagmire of endless shifts. Thank god for corporate greed and lax attitudes to employee exploitation - the joys of the modern low level, white collar private sector drone.