James’ Poor Brain

1) Hoorah. Not one, but TWO decent characters written out! Martha, who didn’t annoy me nearly as much as Billie Piper, and JOHN SIMM! How can you get rid of John Simm?! The producers are morons.

2) Oh look, ANOTHER “pluck a ridiculous special power out of thin air” moment to save the day, why do they keep doing that? Its like the writers say “whoops, I appear to have got the Doctor into a predicament again. Never mind, I’ll make something up”. You can’t turn 100 years younger, turn blue and start floating around the room just because people start shouting “DOCTOR!” The writers are morons.

3) Why turn Jack, who kicks all kind of arse, into some obese blue face who doens’t do anything?! And how can he forget everything that happened in the last 3 episodes? Does the BBC not watch the old episodes and make notes on the characters before they make up new episodes? The BBC are morons.

So, in conclusion, people in suits who create DW episodes = morons.

‘Sup fools, we’ve finally finished recording our first ever demo/EP!

Currently without a title, artwork, or actual disks, this will soon be available for you losers to chiggety-check out. The tracklisting is:

1. Each One Served Us Well

2. Kitchen Utensils

3. BTK

 

The tracks can be heard in digital form at www.myspace.com/hctrband

 

Peace out, homies!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I won’t talk like that anymore.

Saw this headline on MSN today and thought “Brilliant!”

Why? Because hopefully other countries will follow suit, only instead of Scientologists who are boffing Katie Holmes AND ARE NOT GAY!!!! HONEST!!!!!, other annoying pop culture figures.

Here are some examples:

ENGLAND BANS PETE WENTZ

ENGLAND BANS THE GUY WHO PLAYS SEAN IN CORONATION STREET

ENGLAND BANDS STEVEN SPIELBERG

 

And, instead of having a crazy-assed religion, the crimes that people are banned for include such things as being a big attention-seeking fish-faced sellout, acting exceedingly gay for no reason whatsoever except to annoy straight people, and making crappy films where everyone dies.

Where else can you get screaming PE teachers, cowboy hats, drunken Maths teachers and Banoffi Pie all in one place? Why, the Prom of course!

Indeed, after some confusion about the cab (PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION AGAIN, PEOPLE) I was pleased that mocking laughter at my clothes was the sole domain of my closest friends. Well, not pleased per se, but you get the idea. Anyway, I was surprised to see food I acually liked on the menu, whereas I normaly cannot even pronounce what is being served t fancy functions, let alone eat it without gagging. Well, except the desert. That was gross. Bit disappointed there was no other source of food for the next 3 hours, which meant I was hungry as wel as bored during the back-to-back electropop songs being played as “entertainment”. Well, except Fall Out Boy. But that’s like catching Syphilis during a bout of Herpes.

Actually, thats a bit harsh. It was fun seeing people who are normally quite restrained dance around like loons, and evryone was really friendly. Seriously, everyone. Even the chavs.

So the moral of the story, if it was a story, and if there was a moral o it, is that if you want people to be nice, you have to sit through hours of dance music.

During my year and six months as a myspace user, I’ve sifted through some real crap. Profiles which you can’t see half of (due to excessive pimping), the word ‘pimping’ as a word for ‘making your page look like a rainbow covered in glitter exploded, with no survivors’, and, worst of all, Fact Cow. If this person tries to add you, RUN AWAY.

But this made my blood boil. Not only was it a chain bulletin - already rashes on Myspace’s backside -  but it started with the phrase “What’s your mental illness?” Having any desire whatsoever to read the rest, evidently.

Seriously, this is one of the most fucked-up thigs I’ve ever read. You have to tick boxes that apply to you under categories like ‘Anorexia’ and ‘Schizophrenia’ and, if you tick more than a few, you obviously have this illness. Without knowing beforehand, obviously. Ignoring the fact that this was probably made up by someone who failed their Science KS3 SAT test, the tickable options here are ridiculous. Do you eat fast? Whoops! You have bulimia! Do you like to stay out all night? Ah, a classic case of Conduct Disorder!

Not likely, limp-dick!

I don’t even want to get started on the more serious options. Case in point:

[ ] you have raped/molested someone.

Way to go, chump change! You’ve created the world’s stupidest bulletin. Like anybody will admit to rape on an internet community with millions of users. And what right do you have to tell people ‘hope is no longer there’ for them? You fucker.

Whats worse is that fact that whoever wrote this (ie. Chump Change) seems to think they can diagnose serious and life-threatening illnesses with this douche. I don’t know that much about it, but I’m guessing it takes a little more than ticking boxes saying ‘you have used alcohol, drugs, or had sex’ or ‘you are very irritable’ in order to correctly diagnose someone with an illness as horrendous as bi-polar disorder. Jackass.

On the other hand, maybe I’m being too harsh. Its just trying to help kids with their problems right? In fact, I’ve created a couple more to help the cause:

PSYCHOSIS

[] You don’t like somebody you know.

[] you once kicked a ball, like, REALLY hard.

[] You watch CSI.

[] You have beady eyes and a sinister beard.

 

MENTALLY RETARDED

[] You don’t know how to build a nuclear fusion reactor

[] You have a job that pays less than £20,000 a year.

[] You got a B in more than one of your GCSEs

[] You make bulletins like this without using sarcasm, you big stupid cockshiner.

 

Gladly, I don’t seem to be the only one who senses the utter retardness (its a word, really) of this bulletin, and it doesn’t seem to be taken seriously. But what if someone did? What if soemone who has just had a bad day and is in a bad mood ends up ticking all the emo-drenched options for ‘Depression’ and ends up on pills?

Arrgh! Stupid bulletins. At least its not as bad as ones which consist of a single word, usually ‘SAFE’ or ‘BRAH’. *cough*could you be more blocked*cough*

 

Oh Ratchet and Clank 3, how I do love your Playstation 2-formatted gameplay. Your bold, colourful graphics. Your wide array of disturbing weaponry (Google ‘Rift Inducer’). Your smooth, flexible controls. Your wonderfully off-beat sense of humour. Your perfectly balanced and hilarious multiplayer modes. Your vast collection of secret areas and collectables. Your characters that actually have character (such as Lawrence, the bass-playing , quintessentially English butler). Even your unlockable Pirate vs. Ninja mini-game.

And yet our love can never be in public. For your entire franchise is based around a fuzzy cat-like creature who never swears and a small, camp robot which turns into a jet pack. Who never swears. How can I admit to liking a computer game which isn’t Grand Theft Auto?

Being more of a Diet Coke man, I rarely sample a cup of Britain’s most sterotypical drink. Having tried a mug earlier, I can well and truely say…meh.

Is this it? Something that you never hear a bad word regarding addictives or bleeding eyeballs about, loved by the whole nation? It’s so bland! Even with two sugars it tasted like water with added…brown.

I don’t get it. How can people drink this stuff 3 times a day, even with the crushingly dull and lenghty preparation process? With most other drinks its ‘Glass. Undo bottle. Pour. Enjoy.’ It takes upwards of five whole minutes to make the tea, and then another seven for it to cool to a drinkable temperature. You’re all mad.

 

 

In other news, I highly recommend www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net - its the corner of the internet that political correctness forgot. And its hilarious.

 

Suffering for my art? Yesterday I was suffering for someone else’s.

You see, 14 hours were spent yesterday on a much-publicised Muse show, at the recently rebuilt Wembley Stadium (the second show the happen there - the first that was actually sold out). Besides the two-hour journey and the torrential rain that started when we joined the colossal queue and stopped when we got inside, even once we got inside there was a long, long wait for the music to start playing.

Fortunately the rain miraculously dissapeared, and Rodriguo y Gabriela took to the stage. With only two accoustic guitars and no vocals, they were certainly a bizzare choice for a stadium rock show, but there was no denying both the technical talent of the band and general quality ofthe songs. Minimalist and very good.

Dirty Pretty Things may fit into the ‘geneirc indie band’ label so loved by NME, but songs like ‘Deadwood’ put them well ahead of similar bands. Plus, as the only other rock band on show, they get the crowd suitably fired up, especially during set closer ‘Bang Bang You’re Dead’. Its a shame they all seem drunk.

Sadly, the last band on (before Muse) had neither the technical ability nor the rock n’ roll appeal of the first two acts. Why the Streets are playing today is anyone’s guess, and seemed to be more concerned with name-checking other bands than actually attempting a good show. Sure, the annoyingly frequent attempts at singing ‘Radio Ga Ga’ and short snippets of Lily Allen (why would Muse fans appreciate Lily Allen?) may have amused the casual music fans, but to those who had stood in place without food or water for 8 hours in order to get a good view of the headliners it just grates. Once Mike Skinner actually picks up is backing band’s guitar and actually mimes playing it, very few people are left in doubt as to whether this is a lame pop group.

Fortunately, about half an hour later, the lights go down and ochestra music blares out. As everyone expectedly stares towards the stage, craning necks to see when the band emerge, a seemingly inconspicuous platform in the middle of the audience explodes in a shower of confetti, Matt Bellamy, Chris Wolstenholme and Dom Howard standing triumphantly in the middle. To deafeningly loud screams, the band made their way down an extended walkway to the stage, and, finally, the real show began.

Starting off with a stadium-filling rendition of Knights of Cydonia, for the rest of the night its incredible song after incredible song after incredible fucking song, whether it be epic slow-burner Invincible or debut 1999 single Sunburn. Matt Bellamy practically screams down the microphone every time he opens his mouth, defying his diminuative appearance and making everyone scratch their head, wondering “How doe such a little squirt make such a massive noise?!”. Meanwhile, drummer Dom Howard nails the drums with piston force and Chris Wolstenholme headbangs like he has a scorpion on his head, never missing a note. In fact, the entire gig passes without a single mishap, the band not only grabbing the huge audience but wrapping them around their fingers. No other encouragement is need when Matt aks the crowd to hold aloft their mobile phones, causing a stunning stadium-wide display of twinklling star-like lights during the mellow Soldier’s Poem. Stage theatrics are not that limited however - the stage itself is decorated with large satellite dishes and glowing orbs, and large, confetti-filled balloons are released and bounced around the crowd during staple hit Plug In Baby - its a testament to the awe-inducing power of that song that half the audience were ignoring the ballons completely. Even bigger balloons are released for Blackout - this time with acrobats dangling from them. Acrobats! After this show, no-one is left in any doubt about Muse’s status as one of - if not the - best live band on the planet.

Finishing with two encores, the vocals being almost completely drowned out by the passionate sing-a-long mentality of the crowd, the band depart, probably already waiting for the exact same thing to happen at tommorow’s gig. the large, cheesy grins on each member’s faces enforce what everyone here is already thinking - there has never been a Muse show, or any music show in history, like this one.

Rain? Pah.

ALL HAIL NME. IT IS ALWAYS RIGHT.*

 

Armed police. For playing too loudly.

 

I hope there are no residential areas around a certain recently rebuilt football stadium, as if this happens, it could end in tragedy. Or, much more preferably, the Steets being drilled with machine-gun bullets. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*only it is not, never has, and never will be right

I used a bus and nothing bad happened! Its a miracle!

 

Also, History went well and I’ve only got two exams left, although one of them is Physics…

Oh well. I’m not interested in a career in spinning.