cock-ring hall

I’m rather delighted they’ve caught that fucking sod Karadzic but how come it took 13 years? Someone must have known where he was. Maybe the people harbouring him got bored of having him ‘in’ all the time, not pulling his weight about the house and using the last of the shampoo and not telling anyone. I’m sure they would’ve covertly rung round to see if anyone else wanted him as Karadzic sits in ignorant bliss on the sofa watching Scrapheap Challenge and eating Tangfastics with his bloody clodhoppers on the coffee table. Again.

I was driven to the Royal Albert Hall in a fucking Merc if you please by a pal at work. Despite the usual reluctance to attend such events I have to say approaching and entering The Albert Hall is quite humbling, it’s a truly wonderful building and being fortunate to have a box stuffed full of finger food and booze one can’t help feeling a little smug after the former aspect has subdued. There were 12 of us, the boss, his missus, their son, myself and 8 colleagues. As usual the boss and I took the seats at the rear of the box, it’s nearer to the refreshments and there is room to spread out, and the concert began.

Expecting the usual twiddley twee shit (I make no apologies for my dislike of classical music, it’s not a question of not ‘getting it’ it doesn’t do it for me. Period) I was rather surprised that the stage was entirely empty save a bloke half way up the wall in a little rectangle. The organs at the Hall is one if not the largest in Europe, and fuck my old boots if it doesn’t make a noise. L’Ascension by Messiaen sounds like a horror movie score, for this reason and for the simple fact that I like the sound of an organ the first quarter was rather jolly good, the second part wasn’t too bad either. It appears I quite like this particular composer.

After the interval in which I shoved things down my neck at a rate of knots the second half was a mixed bag of yawn-inducing scraping and ball-cracking inspiration, the latter down to a Japanese-inspired arrangement requiring gongs and cymbals that were genuinely unsettling and momentarily beautiful. One thing I did notice by the way, all of the people that enthused about the music in question, all of them seemed to spend more time thumbing through the programme than actually listen/watch what is going on. I’m not saying they were bored but when I go and see Slayer I don’t even want to blink in case I miss a single thing… actually, I’m implying they were bored, periodically at least; this doesn’t happen with the stuff I like.

Here’s some (new) shit I like. Hairy men, guitars.

Shouting…