new from Gallow Slutt enterprises...

starring Tom Cruise.

while going home to his fiance for christmas, Jock Strap (Tom Cruise, days of thunderpants, mission irreversible 2: lost in new york)'s FED EX(tm) plane is struck by a furious tropical storm and crash-lands on a deserted mid-pacific paradise. although the only survivor, Strap suffers from massive internal haemorrhages, and dies within hours of freeing himself from the fuselage; the rest of the film consists of time-lapse footage of his corpse decaying over the next two years.

so.. a couple of new jokes. the first one, here, made Thom and Luarence laugh down the pub. if you don't find it funny, it's probably because you don't have a penis. unlike rachel, in my dream this morning.

Why is a girlfriend like a bus?

because you wait ages for one... and then she rips your heart out and fucking stamps on it.

i want to use the feed-line as the title for rebessica's first ep. the punch line can be underneath the cd (in a secret booklet... printed only in glow in the dark ink...) i did want to call it 'pretty girls make cakes' but i think that's a good name for the one that's currently titled 'small/far away'. as i saw saying to abi from the formerly-titled Drop Dead Dave last night, i come up with more good titles for songs/ bands than actual riffs/opportunities.

reminds me of the bloodhound gang cd 'use your fingers', which had (to the effect of) 'what's ugly, smelly, stupid, and likes the bloodhound gang? (see other side writen on the front of the cd. i liked that.

whilst we are on the subject of cool guys called jeffrey (see here, and here) - overcompensating.

oh, and i finally found out what it means to be on the Ephel Duath Street Team; it means someone emails you the day before and says you can have some free tickets if i collect people's email adresses. did they think that i checked email every day? did they not think that i might already have a ticket?

ah, yes; the duath. they promised us a big surprise; it was awesome. they had a live trombonist, fatterning out the sound and doing everything as they should. the new arrangements were subtley different; last time i saw them, they were pretty much playing the tracks off 'the painter's pallette' without the melodic singer, and using the odd backing tape for sound effects, like the trumpet on 'the passage'. now they've really cleaned up their act, between the new trombonist and the screamer, they've hacked up the parts nicely, as well as filling in the need for a second guitarist. i'm sure the actual music was different too, but i can't remember how; i was surprised a couple of times when te songs didn't do what i expected them to (i say this with some irony).

poison the well - ahh, never mind.

but the Plan were just phenomonal. i gave myself a stitch dancing to 'when good dogs..', after which i couldn't quite get the energy back as from when we were dancing by the edge - couldn't see them, but we had more room. we moved into the middle after a few songs, just behind the moshpit. some girls brought them cans of tuna, after they asked for food on their website. my dreams do't come true very often, but i had one where we forgot to bring them anything (i wanted to get them something from grubb's). and then we went backstage and met the Duath, but the bouncers wouldn't let us back out front! so we missed the show.

did Luciano remember you from that gig in Leeds? did he? no. he remembered me though. mmhmm. so bought the red t-shirt and both badges. i asked Davide where he got the band's ties. he said: 'my mother!' of course. you're Italian. like maybe someone else. except he might not be Italian... he might be gay. or just somehow, inexplicably, cool.

joke two: the 'duck' joke. it follows the tired format of 'man short of money walks into a brothel', since it origanted from a mis-expected punchline of such a joke; you know how i love to subvert the genres. it ahs evolved since then, and an art twist has been added.

so it's Berlin, 1937. Hans, on his way home from work, wheels his barrow of money to the Brothel, and enters. the pimp, Dieter, is manning the counter. 'Dieter,' he says, 'my old friend. it has been a bad week for me; i have only 35,000 Marks to pay you with. please, can you find someone for me to loosen my seed into?' Dieter says, 'my friend, you are a loyal and valued customer. everyone is having a bad week at the moment. i can't do you any deal, but i'll see what i can find for that money.' Dieter exits and inits. he is followed by a beautiful, blonde, buxom, bona fide lass. Hans looks on in astonishment. 'Dieter, you service me a great favour that one day i hope to repay you,' he says. he takes the whore down the corridor... and then he... dyswidt?

so the next week, Hans' business is a little brisker. he is spotted pusing two barrows of money down to Dieter's brothel, with a gay swing in his step.
'my good man, this week, i bring you twice the money i brought you last week. here is 70,000 marks. maybe you bring me something twice as gut, ja?'
this time Dieter is followed in by an almost identicle looking blonde buxom lass. Hans waits a couple of seconds, looks through the door to see if anyone else is coming.. and his smile fades. he says to Dieter, 'my friend, what is this? last week you said you could not do me a deal; you gave me a woman for 35,000 Marks. this week i bring you twice the amount, and you give me a woman that looks just the same? how can you justify this insult?
Dieter keeps his calm. 'but Hans, this woman is not Jewish.'

i think i'll go now.


spunk on my tits.

'is this the most offensive image in britain?' scream the sun. it's a hilarious article, but i think we should prove them wrong and show them exactly what we think is the most offensive picture in britain. and then i saw some dopey twat buying a copy in the co-op, along with a chocolate bar, a bag of crisps, and (probably) a can of coke, while i was buying my christmas Viz. and i really hate how the sun puts those little bits in italics, signifying when they're not even trying to make something news.
It is supposed to be fun. But for some people, fun is a dirty word.

arrgh! the article is actually devoid of any news; there are no references to anything real happening. it's just a way to get chrismas and Micheal Howard in the paper. yup. the sun are backing Howard.

the ultimate music quiz! how on earth does it work? it doesn't have every single album ever recorded quite yet, but it's clearly on the way. ah... song samples off amazon.com. i see now. very, very clever.

lets go to blackpool!

edit: i think these stories, without th'illustrations, are even more brutal.


apologies to Richard Hahn for not linking to his site when i posted those pictures. very unprofessional of me. www.lumakick.com

this stuff is cat-agious

this is what infinity looks like

dirty cheating infinite cat project:
Don't worry if your kitty pic is a few cats out of date because I often get simlutaneous submissions that require me to use an image editor to replace the image in the monitor.

it's only fair, but a branching network of infinite cats would be so much way-cooler!

www.grilly.tl is now mirrored at www.grili.co.uk, so ta big bruv.



oh, and one more thing... (warning! may contain spoilers)

so a while ago, i re-read Halo Jones, in a batch of old 2000AD monthlies i ebayed. i know i've got them all in my dad's basement, but it didn't seem worth getting them down (but i will, when i get my own place {HAH!}) and upon finishing it, realised i had a completely different emotional reaction to the one i was used to.

i used to find the ending crushing. the ultimate joke, as i saw it, was that she finally escaped from the world she knew, of shit, repression, poverty and futility; and what did she find? vaccuum. she was out, and there weas nothing. that was how i read it.

but since then, i've read the history of 2000AD, and interviews with Alan Moore, and have become aware that they had about nine books planned, and only got round to doing three.

and when i saw that final frame this time, Halo blasting into space, i felt great. she had escaped. there was stuff to do out there. knowing she would go on to have the fantastic adventures described in the intro to book two, and become a galactic legend (something that i hadn't taken into account at first), gave the escape a completely different emphasis. it was a victory. do i miss my original interpretation? no. not because the new one is better, but you just have to let go of these things don't you? of course, the new meaning is even better, becuase it overcomes the original failure that i felt. but i think they're both valid.

what do you mean you haven't read it?

get with the times, dude! that strip is twenty years old!

erm, yes. ok.

poo, i forgot - Thom's new irregular webcomic, Pear & Bear, is now online. i think it says more about him than it does about pears or bears.

gallow slutt software - prop. George Gallowslutt - will be operational before one can say 'boo'. in space.

and, lest we forget...


so there i am. standing at the end of a 12-person queue for the cashpoint. i don't put my walkman on; waiting with headphones is simply antisocial, it's the only chance you have to meet new people (in daylight), and it's a waste to deliberately isolate yourself. as i get two people away from the cashpoints (there are two) it becomes apparant the one is out of order, explaining the long queue. orisit? from where i'm standing, it looks fine. the barclays ads are ticking round, exactly as normal. so i ask the lady in front of me (first in the queue)
G: "is there something wrong with the other cash point?"

you can see where this is going.

Lady: "there must be, otherwise why are we all queueing for that one?"

i make sure i can squeeze back in to the queue if it doesn't.

but it does. in fact, it shits out two crisp fivers. the lady laughs.

L: "god, we're all such sheep aren't we?"

speak for your bloody self, love.

today is wonderful. the sky is a swish of yellow, white and blue; i feel like i fell in love last night. with Rebessica.

and then this morning i wrote and recorded a rubbish new song. it really is shit though. it's inspired by a calling card i saw in the toilet of Robert House, with a picture of a semi-naked girl saying "i'm happy because i like my job". for some reason it popped into my head this morning while i was puttin gout my laundry, along with heywood lane-style chords. and that was it! made up some more words, recorded it in about half an hour, with five vocals and three guitars. i'm actually quite happy with it listening back.

i just googled the title - 'fair trade whore' - and the first link was an interview with Chris Martin. classic.
When he started down this activist path, Martin says, "I felt like a third-rate Bono.... Hopefully, it'll escalate until I feel like a full-on Bono."
you can listen to it on the audio page (soundclick doesn't like external links), as well as the demo for 'Quinlank'which is good in a different kind of way, even if it doesn't have the "drink your weak lemon drink NOW!" hook line yet. i made it at the end of last term, in a fug of smoked whiskey and roll-ups, because i thought that's how rock stars get their inspiration. i got around to half-recording and mixing one song. rock stars are wankers.

i was going to put on the demo of 'girl in the kid a top', which is almost exactly a year old (it was meant for the original conception of womansour), but it's only the wrong format, innit? and it's just not ready yet.)

we need another two requests before i tell the awful duck joke. it's not even that good, i shouldn't be bigging it up like this, it's got out of hand now.


get this! Soundclick have now gone creative commons crazy! that means all i have to do is check a couple of boxes and my music is automatically covered. topper.

and... blacksmoke advent calender is now operational.

and... new kef mp3s.
It would be worth pointing out that your intro on 'Girl
In The Kid A Top' is longer than any Kefranski song currently being
played, apart from 'L'Oxford' which is 35 minutes long

i was going to put 3 of my old websites back online, archived for completeness. but with the way geocities works, it would take hours of just clicking.

and.. i'm finding sleeping very difficult.

i'm going to go home and get my chops up.

and i must say for those who don't read luarence's i-can't-believe-it's-not-blog, that out in the glouscter the other night, we just kept drawing at moo-pah-chi (stone-paper-scissors). after 6 or 7 draws, we just gave up. the tension was too great.

and forever is quadruple time. i was playing it triple time, but there's no way i can fit that many notes into a bar.

why are all my interesting thoughts in bed, not now, when i'm on the computer? maybe there's a lesson.

shall i tell you my dirty duck joke? please leave a comment if you want to hear it.