There Will Be Cake…
I twisted my ankle last night playing football. Thankfully nothing broken. Except maybe pride.
I was clean through on goal too when a rogue tackle and my trademark Messi shuffle combined to make me crumble in a heap of man pain on the astroturf. And now I hobble like, like, like something that hobbles a lot (note to self… insert mindblowingly apt analogy here later) and my ankle looks like something you should need planning permission for.
What does all this mean you may well ask?
Well kids I am lined up for some Soundcheck Blog Off action in Spy tomorrow night and now the Har Mar Superstar-styled dance routine will have to take a raincheck I’m afraid. Just think of what might have been.
Anyway, those fine folk also vying for blogger imortality:
Nialler9
Jim Carroll
Rick O’Shea
Ian Wright (Thrill Pier)
UnaRocks
Sweet Oblivion
Raptureponies
Aoife McIndieHour
Bluebirds Are So Natural
Dublin Streets
It promises to be an eclectic affair. There have even been threats of Prefab Sprout. Lord help us and save us.
First blogger up will be hitting the decks at 7pm. Admission is free before 11pm (and then a fiver thereafter). Drinks promotions on the night and Una has made promises which involve cake.
So let the games begin.
One thing I can guarantee is that I won’t play any Beyoncé. How many times can one woman say “If you liked it you should’ve put a ring on it” in 3 odd minutes? No wonder he fucked off and didn’t put a ring on it you whingey aul sod.
So shine on you crazy diamonds. I hope to see you there. I still might wear a mask.
The password is fidelio…
Burning with curiosity, I ran across the field after the rabbit with the watch in its waistcoat-pocket. Fortunately I was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. Down I went after it, never once considering how in the world I was to get out again.
Alice and the rabbit heading down to Soundcheck on the 19th of Feb
And so word has spread like wildfire, like a rogue meteor if you will.
I saw it here first, a real blog war you say? I’m there.
Supremo led me to the the Creator of it all. It’s like the Truman Show really. Except in Soundcheck form. With the almighty UnaRocks as the Morgan Freeman, God-type character. Except with better taste in music and an enviable energy to be setting up the likes of this lark.
In truth I brought it on myself. I answered the call. I’m sure I won’t regret it yet I’m excited and vaguely nervous in equal measure. And I don’t get nervous.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that there are some serious muso-blog type luminaries on the bill. Many of whom do it professionally and very well for that matter. I might just have to wear a mask.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that there’ll be some serious muso-blogger types on the dancefloor. People who can write, slate and review like there’s no tomorrow. Literally. Right there right then. They have the technology. And that’s perhaps more daunting. I might just have to wear a mask.
So let the Battle of the Bloggers begin. It’s on like Donkey Kong.
One thing I will say is that I can’t guarantee I won’t just play Guns N Roses.
Bless me Father….
… for I have sinned. It’s been 6 days since my last post, and 12 since my last real one. And time has not been my friend Father. All go go go it seems of late. And you see, I’ve been the victim of a broken laptop Father. It appears she didn’t like various liquids being spilled all over her. First tea then water. And no amount of cajoling or rehab could save her. So that didn’t help the posting situation.
Before that it was all credit crunch this and recession that. And that was just fine with me. Then that lad from Moneygall disturbed everything father. Suddenly it was all “historic” this, “seismic” that. The interweb was heaving with hyperbole and cliché. It felt only right to take a break after all that. Readjust. Even over at the mighty Pound there has been a slowdown in posts. Maybe we’re all just taking stock?
Perhaps like Michael Stone we should all just “Make Art Not War”? Are you listening Buffalo Cane?!? And K8 the Ir8? Put the fucking lotion in the basket! Or Cuthbert Cannon will kick all our asses.
An End to War?
Victory March
Word is reaching us across the wires of a victory in the short-lived war between MaxiLand and the State of Cackaloo. The Cackaloons have been victorious it seems. No images reach us yet. And we’re not sure if it is merely propaganda. We hear there is much rejoicing in K8opia. Celebratory sambuca is flowing freely.
Will Maximus Caneus fall on his own sword? Or will he be humiliated in public and hung by the goolies from a tree? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
Updates will follow when available.
War, huh, what is it good for?
War has been declared by the State of Kackaloo (aided by General Beardy Von Smoke) on the benign dictator Maximus Caneus (aided by his Ministry of Intelligence, Corporal Crabling). This folks is serious. Literally, the bomb. Who has the heavier artillery is not yet known. Both sides are frantically recruiting with a variety of tricks on display. Intelligence reaches us of a strippers grotto with vast resources of Jagermeister. Smoke and mirrors everywhere. It is believed Obama is seriously considering his future in the wake of these developments. His foreign policy manifesto could not have predicted this new world disorder.
On behalf of the citizens of the Liberated Secular Republic of NaRocco I have declared neutrality. An unashamedly flexible, DeValera-esque, neutrality. MiniRoc have informed all warring factions that bribes and such like will allow for a variety of wartime favours for either side. We will, for example, gladly accept rendition flights and the like. Payments, as ever, are negotiable. However, at NaRocRoc Island we shall set up anti-weapon of tampon destruction devices on our shores and we shall house prisoners of Maxi war in accordance with Guantanamo ideals. We shall not go down with the rest of you bastards!
