Tour Diary: Iceland Is Brutal, America Is Worse

 

📅 August 14–16, 2019

✍️ Spam Javelin on Tour

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Wednesday, August 14 — Iceland: Land of Fire, Ice & Financial Ruin

“Fuck me, Iceland is expensive.”

That’s the quote of the day, folks. £32 — yes, THIRTY-TWO POUNDS — for two soups, a pizza slice, and three drinks in Reykjavik. Welcome to the financial apocalypse with scenic mountains.

The weather? -7°C with a North wind slicing through your soul. It’s too pricey to take any excursions, so we’re stuck kicking around the sanitised airport and watching our funds die slowly, like a Nordic noir episode in real life.

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Thursday, August 15 — SPAM JAVELIN IN THE USA  (Sort Of...)

“Shit a brick.”

We nearly made it into the USA. Instead, we got a free bonus day courtesy of time zones and U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

Apparently, we’re so punk rock that Homeland Security wanted in. We were detained, interrogated, and somehow they knew everything — even what songs we were playing. I didn’t know they had bootlegs of our setlists.

‘YOU LIE TO ME AGAIN AND YOU’RE GOING STRAIGHT TO JAIL!’ Yelled the Homeland Security guard with her hand on the gun holster.

My band, Spam Javelin had a mini-tour booked in and around Minnesota, supporting the mad-cap rapper Coolzey. I had initially met Zach (Coolzey)  when he joined us in the UK on the Noise Annoys Tour (arranged by fellow raptor, Sleep Beggar). Zach and I immediately hit it off, sharing that same wicked sense of humour and a gung-ho attitude. So when Coolzey toured the UK a second time, he stayed at my place, we produced a brilliant video, played some gigs and he appeared live in session on my radio show. We also plotted a mini-tour of the backwoods of Zach’s home State in the USA. Now, for a band to officially go on tour, means forking out something like £560 per member for a working visa to enter the United States. This is an absolute No-No for a Spam Javelin calibre band as we’re not making any money on the tour (losing is more likely) and we’re just being paid enough for fuel, a bit of food and having the luxury of a couch or floor to sleep on. Many bands have toured the States this way; they go without any equipment as it’s all laid on. Coolzey hired a drum kit and a jeep, and we were gonna borrow the guitars and amps of the other acts playing the five gigs with us.

The authorities were waiting for us, this band of three punks, Spam Javelin, a massive threat to America’s national security. Big Brother no longer watches you, you do it for him by updating Facebook. We were pulled out of the queue before passport control at Minneapolis Airport and separated into rooms. At first I tried to blag my way through the questioning, but they knew everything about us, my nickname, Neil Crud, the band name, Spam Javelin, the dates we were playing. They were particularly interested in finding out who Coolzey was, but that information I did not divulge. When the threat of jail came I immediately capitulated, my first and foremost thought was Tracey, our bassist. She would have been sent to a separate jail and I could not bear the thought of her being incarcerated on her own, while drummer Llion and myself got down with the homies. The guard rail-roaded me into confessing as she was eager to get us back on the plane from whence we came as it was the last flight out of Minneapolis-Saint Paul Airport that night. The three of us were photographed, finger-printed and bundled back onto the plane and thrown out of the States and sent to Iceland to sort our own way back home thereafter. Subsequently we now have to apply for working visas if we ever want to go to the USA, even as tourists, and even then, we’re not guaranteed entry. It was a costly exercise, I managed to use my credit card and get us a flight to Copenhagen and then to Manchester, costing a further £1500. I later heard that gritty rock band Orange Goblin suffered the same fate, and they had even booked separate flights into different airports. Fuck Trump’s USA.

Long story short: they didn’t like the answers, or maybe the band name (🤘), and we got put on a plane BACK to Iceland. No gig. No pay. No love.

To Trump's America, from us:

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Friday, August 16 — Viral Weirdness

Slept surprisingly well after all that — still trying to figure out what the hell actually happened in Minneapolis.

Turns out, we went viral.
A PR firm from Nevada offered $5K* for the rights to the whole story. Not bad for getting deported. Half the internet thinks it’s fake news — the other half wants the merch.

Meanwhile, we’re sat here wishing we were playing in Oshkosh tonight.

*oh ok... Phil at Louder Than War said he'd give us some headlines if we sold our souls to him
READ ALL ABOUT IT HERE

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Takeaway of the Week

Bring extra cash.
Maybe avoid countries with Homeland Security.
And always, always keep the camera rolling — because this shit sells.

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Would you like to subscribe to more tales of band-related misadventure? Follow us or check out Spam Javelin on Bandcamp for the soundtrack to the chaos.

Pre-gig Preparations (the storm before the calm)

 

“Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
July 28th. A date that should carry quiet reverence — Dad’s 72nd birthday. But of course, it’s absolutely pissing it down. A classic British summer day: soggy, grey, and thoroughly determined to ruin whatever sentiment tried to survive.

The roads are soaked. “Driving rain” — the kind that turns windscreens into aquariums. Dr Foster’s fucked off to Gloucester — or Glouster, or however the hell you spell that bloody place. Doesn’t matter. No one cares but Google Maps.

Sunday starts at Zip World of all places. A breakfast amid screaming zip-liners and overpriced toast. Thumbing thru Fortnite comics with Charlie and Marni — some fleeting joy in fictional panels. We are soundtracked by Single Mothers’ Our Pleasure, like life’s trying to remind you that even joy has reverb.

I had guests over from China staying at the caravan on Friday. I was told (by my cocksucking curtain twitching neighbours) it all kicked off at 11pm. Full-on scrap. No subtitles. Just shouting and slamming. Wankers!
And on my playlist? The Growlers Chinese Fountain. Irony thick enough to spread on expensive toast.

The caravan — or “Hollies,” as it’s been dubbed — got a “deep clean,” whatever that means, but it's when bleach won’t cut through bad vibes. In between scrubbing and post-fight repairs, I play marbles with Charlie. Desperate nostalgia in the midst of adult chaos.

Maccy’s for tea. A Filet-o-Disappointment wrapped in cardboard and regret.
Then: salvation? redemption? A pint with Llion and Tracey at the Black Cat before tonight’s gig. Maybe music will fix it all — or at least drown it out for a while.

There it is. In the centre of the chaos:
SPAM JAVELIN — a band? a curse? Chester today then the USA - we had joy, we had fun at The Live Rooms in Chester with Soap Girls and Saltwater Injection. The fact that Piss Kitti had pulled out was an advantage as we went on later to a bigger and very responsive crowd. Sold 4 vinyl and 7 CDs.
Saltwater (in my fucking eyes!) were good - a 2 piece ensemble with a slapdash noise set. And the Soapy South African sisters were good fun, but played way too long, but I guess they had to appease the pervs ogling their topless t-shirts.

MONOLOGUE: “The Betws Garmon Notebook”

(Whispering)
They say you shouldn’t write when you're spiraling, but that’s when the truth bleeds through, isn’t it?

(Louder, erratic)
HELP ME. PLEASE HELP ME. No, scratch that. I don’t want help. I want to remember. I want to trap it all before it slips out of my ears. Everything’s slipping, leaking.

Posted 3 vinyls. Eleven CDs. Forty sold. That’s good, right?
FUN DAY, Sunday. I don’t know what that is. Did I make that up? Is that real?

“Violets Leap – Session Sunday.” Yes. That happened.
Or will happen? [It didn't]

I double-booked myself again, didn't I?
… who the hell is KEZ?

(Chuckles bitterly)
KEZ. She's either my busty cleaner or a ghost.

Album of the week. Who’s album? Mine? Fake news. It’s always fake.
The merchant opens. The noise begins. Spam the javelin. Stickers show up in Derby.
God, I’m not sleeping.

(Pause)
Ten hours' sleep—yeah right.
“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani.”
You know what that means?
Even He felt abandoned.

She said she’d take me anywhere… but I stayed right here.
In this room. With this notebook. And these—
(slams a vinyl record down)
—lies.

More crack whores promo—what is that?!
Was that a song pitch or a cry for help?

Sell house. Sell it NOW.
I wrote that in all caps. Again.
That’s the third time.
But I’m still here.
The walls are still up.
And the tape still rolls.

(Leaning in close)
Hit me with your laser.
Laser.
Laser.
Laser.

(Sudden burst of manic laughter, then silence)

You see, the thing is… I’m not crazy.
I’m just holding the whole fucking album in my skull, and the skull is cracking.
But if I don’t write it down—if I don’t put it in the book—it’ll vanish.

And then what?

No show. No rehearsal. No Kez. No crack whores. No album.
Just a punk, mumbling to himself in a crack cave in Betws Garmon, on a tape no one will ever play.

(Quietly, almost reverently)
Please shred responsibly.

Countryside Alliance 0, North Wales Punk Rockers 1

 

Civilised Society?, Piss Kitti, Mike West and Crapsons played The Pot in Rhyl tonight – a DIY event beset with problems.

It was first scheduled for the Marine in Old Colwyn – until the landlord there started receiving threats from the Countryside Alliance, fucking fox hunters, the Conservative Armageddon, Tories on horses. (cunts basically).

The venue pulled it. The Pot in Rhyl hosted it instead. Yvette stepped up – she too got threats, but she’s made of tough stuff, has a knuckle-duster for a wedding ring and cage fights bears. The gig goes ahead – despite Emissaries Of Gwyn crying off, so promoter MWJ is frantically scouring North Wales for a 'house' drumkit. Even the cops turn up looking for a drunk to issue a fine to.

Rich said 15-20 people there, half a great night…

Videos look great – awesome photo of Piss Kitti. Crapsons invite MWJ to sing 42 Wheelie Bins!
(not sure if link will work as FB is an arse - but try it - click here)

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Not sure if I saw Civilised Society? back in the day… the day being © 1987 in Peaceville.
They were/are an anarcho-punk band that originally formed in the mid-1980s, emerging from the same raw, politically charged scene that birthed bands like Discharge, Amebix, Antisect, and Conflict. They were part of the Peaceville Records roster—one of the key independent labels in the UK underground punk scene.
Check 'em out on YouTube Music

#NWPR #punk

Rival Tribal Revel Rebel

 

Driving fast through a quiet town at dawn. Summer light just breaking. It’s 6am, and everyone is safely couped up in their houses. Streets lined with cloned, neatly arranged buildings—a portrait of order.

Society has shaped the human race into something uniform. We all seek shelter from the elements. We all need a place to live. We gather in clusters, tribes, territories. And when it comes to protecting those—our families, our friends, our towns, our football teams, our beliefs—we get defensive.

It’s tribal.
All of it.

We group by religion, nationality, music taste, football allegiance, even political stance. Punk rockers. Catholics. Protestants. Leave. Remain. Fellow countrymen. Fellow outsiders. It’s the same primal instinct dressed up in modern clothes.

We squabble. We divide. We defend.
It’s always been this way.

Brexit? Just another modern tribal fight.
The question isn’t “Which side are you on?”
The question is “Why are there sides at all?”

“Who needs countries anyway?”
We go to war for land. For energy. For flags and anthems and invisible lines on maps.

FUCK THE HUMAN RACE.

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Meanwhile, in the middle of this existential unraveling...
The dripping shower (#2) in my Airbnb is nearly dead.

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Author’s Note:

This entry was pulled from a real-time scribble in a notebook, fueled by too little sleep and too much thinking. I don’t have the answers—but maybe questioning the shape of the world is a good start.

Article I wrote for Rhyl Journal - Bistro Reunion

 

thebestvandals.co.uk

I got this 'fantastic' offer today on the fax... So I looked up the company, found their fax number and took them up on their offer... They've not replied yet....

15 Crashtestdummy Rd

Colwyn Bay

SP4 4FF

30.11.15

Dear Sir / Madam

Thank you for sending me an unsolicited fax from your company www.thebestvandals.co.uk.

I feel I need to complain bitterly because I dispute your claim at being the best vandals in the UK as my younger brother is a master at it.

Only last week he managed to graffiti the inside of Colwyn Bay Police Headquarters, smash all the windows in an old people’s care home and ‘key’ eleven cars in one street.

I see you have the Citroen Berlingo at £239 - is that a figure he would get for wrecking the said vehicle? As there’s a showroom nearby and he could do 20 or so overnight and clean up (so to speak). Would the damage include slashing the tyres as well?

If you are serious about your claim about being the best vandals in the UK then I suggest we arrange a vand-off. Perhaps the first to make news in the Daily Mail ?

I await your reply…

Many thanks

Joy Milward

Food Waste Bags

Dear Conwy Borough Council,

I am writing to complain about the utterly appalling quality of your Food Waste Bags.

If I am lucky, I can get 1 in 3 three to snap off the roll intact and use, but even then there's a chance it'll be useless.

It states on the bag 'KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN & BABIES - DANGER OF SUFFOCATION' - This is surely a breach of the trades description act? As a child-minder I have tried several times to suffocate the little critters with your bags but to no avail, they are absolutely crap.

Please can you perhaps find a better quality supplier for your Food Waste Bags next year rather than trying to cut costs and still putting our taxes up...?

Thank you

B.Wastraffu

This week in words - (RIP Bryn Merrick)

Busy week in the world of how we rock and how we roll… and by the end of it I felt about ten years older, deafer, and slightly more confused about how any of us manage to function in this so-called “scene.”

Most of the week was spent wrestling with the finishing touches of the new link2wales compilation, This Patch Of Land. Seventeen bands. Seventeen different levels of disorganisation. Trying to get them all to send artwork, approve tracks, or even reply to a message felt like trying to herd drunk cats across a minefield. I swear, if there’s a purgatory reserved for music people, it’s project managing a compilation album.

Saturday (Sept 5th) brought Spam Javelin’s fifth gig at The Dirty Weekend, now relocated to Chester Lakes after Rhyl’s venues finally out-shitted themselves into irrelevance. We were on at 3pm in a tent, which was fine, except we nearly didn’t get there thanks to a tyre blowing out so badly it was down to the bare thread. There’s nothing quite like changing a tyre with a knackered back while all your amps sit in the boot smirking at you.

We made it, played hard, and even enjoyed it—though the main-stage band had overrun their slot, meaning half the potential crowd didn’t even know we existed. Then, as if things weren’t irritating enough, I later found out the drunk drummer from Vitriolic Response had been wandering around telling people we were sexist homophobes. A bold accusation from someone whose band name sounds like a medical condition. What a fucking wanker.

Sunday was a different story entirely. I took my two-year-old along and we soaked up the vibe properly—lentil curry, sunshine, wandering about, the whole deal. Emissaries of Syn tore through a blistering set at 1pm, despite the suburban local Nazis complaining about the noise from inside their beige living rooms. I picked up a pile of vinyl, books and zines, then went home and updated my very, very anal Bands Seen List—which now sits at a mighty 2031. My ears ring constantly and, being in a hardcore band, I’ve fully accepted that I’m fucked.

Music-wise, I’d been listening to an advance stream of the debut St Pierre Snake Invasion album. Proper good stuff. The only downside is modern technology itself—no CD, no vinyl, just a link. Everything’s a bloody link.

Tuesday was a proper high point. Took my daughter Marni to Manchester Academy to witness the phenomenon that is Future Islands. They were fucking ace. Saw them last year, before they blew up, when you could still feel like you were in on the secret. Not quite the same intimacy this time—no one shouting “C’mon Gwaenysgor! Let's make some fucking noise!”—but still small enough to make eye contact with the band. Support came from Du Blonde (solid) and Dope Body, who were disjointedly brilliant. I even haggled two albums off them for a tenner each, proving I can still barter like a dad at a car boot sale.

Thursday (10th) brought another Spam Javelin show, this time at The Skerries in Bangor. Good crowd, good energy. Addicted To Fish were their usual amiable selves. Bad Excuses didn’t show up—possibly because I’d mentioned the number of covers they play and their bassist got a bit feisty about it. Probably for the best; could’ve been an “interesting” evening. Daf Jones opened on acoustic, but I was so wrecked I slept in my car instead. That’s rock'n'roll life for you—sometimes you miss the opener because unconsciousness wins.

And then today (Saturday) hit hard. Bryn Merrick—ex-The Damned—passed away from cancer. Proper gut punch. He was always the friendly face during that mid-’80s Damned era. Once, after a gig, he even let me autograph his arm. A sweet, solid bloke. Another good one gone.

Debt Collectors

I regularly receive this fax, it arrives the first week of every month... It's spam, and yeah I know we all have a need to advertise our products from time to time and it just so happens I needed a debt collecting...
So I contacted them...

15 Credibility Street

Colwyn Bay

CA5 H4U

First Legal Services (UK) Ltd

01.09.15

Dear Sir / Madam

Thank you for sending me an unsolicited fax entitled ‘Are You Owed Any Money?’

It just so happens that my brother borrowed £5 off me 3 years ago and has made so many excuses that I’m led to believe he is never going to pay me back.

He once lent me his pocket money (£3.50) so I could buy a Panini Football Stickers album (1989) on the promise that I repaid him an extra 50p in interest. I did this as soon as I received my paper-round wages (£6) the following week.

The sticker book was brilliant, but I never managed to complete it as Bradley Allen and Paul Parker were so hard to get hold of, and no amount of swapsies could get me those two players, which is remarkable as neither were that good really. I mean, I know both played for England at senior level, but they were no Lineker or Hoddle were they?

You wouldn’t happen to have either or both of them would you?

With regards to my brother’s debt, do you offer a roughing up service? Nothing too extreme, maybe just a facial scar or possibly a broken limb (preferably right arm).

I would still like the full £5 back with three years interest, but would be willing to waive the interest if he feels some degree of pain.

Many thanks

Ieuan Dai Tree


Then I realised I needed another debt collecting.
So I contacted them again..

15 Facsimile Grove

Colwyn Bay

CA5 H4U

First Legal Services (UK) Ltd

01.09.15

Dear Sir / Madam

Thank you for sending me an unsolicited fax entitled ‘Are You Owed Any Money?’

It just so happens that I am owed money by a company called First Legal Services (UK) Ltd who regularly send unsolicited faxes to my machine.

This has happened once a month every month for the past two and a half years, which equates to thirty faxes; or, if you like, a third of a ream of A4 paper.

Today’s price for a ream of A4 photocopier paper amounts to £1.48, so a third of this would be 49p owed to myself. I am willing to waive the price of the ink and the wear and tear to my fax machine, but as I have paid for this paper myself in 2013 I am going to have to charge you interest on the amount.

Using Wonga as an interest loan rate guide at 5,853% this amounts to a total of £71.69.

However, due to the high amount of A4 paper that has been wasted because of the unsolicited faxes sent to me by First Legal Services (UK) Ltd for the past 30 months, I now have Greenpeace camped outside my office in protest over the amount of trees being cut down to make paper.

The camp of four protesters has now been here for eight months and being conscientious, I have made them cups of tea three times a day every working day (5 days a week, ½ day Saturday) and I have also given their dog the occasional Chocolate Hob-Nob.

I’m willing to waive the Hob-Nobs on the grounds that dogs shouldn’t really eat chocolate as it plays havoc with their digestive system, which I found out much to my own detriment.
However, the average kerbside price for a cup of tea is £1.50, and I have on record that a total of 173 cups were made for the protesters over this period (it would have been more but one of them, Angel, had to help save a beached dolphin in Rhos-On-Sea last week).
This amounts to £259.50 plus Wonga’s reputable interest rate equals £10,125.69 making a grand total of £10,197.38.

Please would you be kind enough to begin proceedings to collect this fee from First Legal Services (UK) Ltd with immediate effect?

Many thanks

Frank Calabrese


Still not heard back from them....

Fingertip Music

Amazing how technology moves at a pace... From the days being a kid with a tape recorder, finger poised on the REC button, hoping John Peel would play something recordable, to today, where you can get almost EVERYTHING that's ever been recorded - ON DEMAND...

It's brilliant... Also a bit sad, as a mission to fond something you liked or wanted, was part of the fun... Ordering 7" singles from dustbin record companies for £2 (including postage)...
Of course, ordering 7" singles (or vinyl) has once again come back into fashion, and I rue the hundreds upon hundreds of vinyls I sold on eBay all those years ago (despite the filthy profit).
Vinyl has taken such an upturn that I was at a gig the other night and the merch stalls all had vinyl (even cassettes!) and no CDs - also, the bulk of the vinyls come with a unique download code, so you can listen on your iPods etc.

Music is now at your fingertips -
Minus vinyl, the pic above is a 'scrobble' on Last FM that details what I listen to thru my PC... this is what I've played in the last 7 days...

The Woggles are an amazing 60s style US garage band I heard when listening to a show called The Three Chord Monte on WFMU radio in New York. I downloaded the show in November 2007..! Such is the saturation of music, that gems do go amiss.. Seven years to get round to listening to this show, and it was only by random on the iPod. Check the WFMU website, as this weekly show is still running, and each one is archived (almost 20 years' worth) for your listening pleasure and education.
This particular show came on in the car on the way to see Converge, Okkultokrati and Martyrdod in Manchester (review) - three bands completely unknown to me and three bands, whose music I now play regularly.

Another batch of 'new' bands in my world are Fat White Family, The Growlers, The Wytches, who I saw in Liverpool last week (review). Also Hookworms who were recommended by Andy Garside, who happens to be part of Drum With Our Hands label who have released the excellent EP by Wrexham's Baby Brave (review).

I also had a hardcore night in Chester last week, with Crossburner and a host of quality acts (review), courtesy of Footloose Records (of Flint) - some great noise coming from that neat little label...  (website)
And two artists regenerated and much to my own surprise and ignorance are Gary Numan and Peter Murphy, who, rather than cash in on the cabaret circuit are still out there releasing and touring new (and very good) material.

Oh... and The Holy Bible is 20 years old... the Manic Street Preachers' finest hour...

Day16: Pussy Footballers

I know it's an easy and topical target but these cheating bastards are spoiling the beautiful game, it's not football it's cheatball. 

The cheats who go down as if they've been shot in order to try and get an opponent sent off. Where's the sportmanship in that? Imagine going down that easy in a pub in Rhyl.!! No ref to protect you there you fucking ponce...

When will something be done about this?

A one match ban? Pants pulled down in public? Made to wear a ballerina skirt and pop socks? 

Can we not kneecap those guilty?

And while we're at it let's stop all substitutions on 85 minutes...

Day15: Motorway Services

Did you know that when Motorway Services first began springing up in the 1960s, they were considered a place to take your loved one for a romantic meal..!!

How things have changed... 

Now they are RIP OFF cattle markets where EVERYTHING IS AT LEAST 50% MORE EXPENSIVE THAN ANYWHERE IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD...!!!!

You are the captive audience, you've driven for hours, you're tired, the kids are hungry - you stop at Knutsford Services, and the faceless fuckers empty your purse, steal your wallet and rip the shirt off your back.

In future plan your journey - living is expensive anyway without being blatantly ripped off by these cunts - fill up before leaving, make snacks, bring plenty of drinks and by all means use the services facilities that are free, like the rest area. And if you have to pay to use the toilet make sure you break something while you're in there.... 

Bastards...

Marchlyn Mawr

Last week we did Marchlyn Bach - This week we did Marchlyn Mawr - a good, not too taxing walk - takes about 3 hours..
Built to feed the Dinorwic Power Station, the lake itself lies in between two mountains Carnedd y Fillast and Elidir Fawr and lies at a height of 636m above sea level and the reservoir took four years to build (from 1975-1979).
From the reservoir, a 34 ft diameter tunnel runs for a mile to a 33ft diameter vertical shaft. From the bottom of the shaft, a 31ft diameter tunnel leads to the power station, 670 metres away.

Day14: Chocolate Bar Rip Off

Cadbury, Nestle etc YOU'RE ALL RIP OFF MERCHANTS... 

Your confectionery has shrunk so much that you can't even fit the name on the wrapper anymore!

Never heard of a Cadbury Twir before or a Snicke bar, or a Boos - you twats.

Funny how the price has gone up though eh...? Tossers...

Day13: Superstitions

Thought I'd use the thirteenth day to raise the touch(wood)y subject of superstition...

Please, someone explain how breaking a mirror is gonna give me seven years bad luck when my whole life has been nothing but bad luck?

How is seeing two magpies gonna give me joy...

On my thirteenth birthday, I was given some lucky heather and a rabbit's foot, it was a Friday, I walked under a ladder and a mirror smashed over my head, as I lay on the floor a black cat scratched my face and a magpie shat on me.

Piss off...

Day12: Dr Alexander

I heard my Doctor was buried the other day. He was not much older than me and a really nice, genuine guy.

When I say my Doctor, or GP if you like, I'd not seen him for 15 years - you see, he was so good that none of his patients were ever ill!!

Dr Alexander wasn't your usual 'Oh it's a virus' type quack, who'd fob you off with some placebo. No, he'd sit, he'd listen and if he could do something to help you he would.

He instigated my first course of tattoo removal on the NHS, we swapped tales of festivals and swapped punk rock music. He diagnosed my  2-year old daughter's ongoing 'cough' as an ear problem, which an operation resolved. He also cut off my ex's ears!! :)

So when I received a text to say he had died, it stopped me in my tracks... Gutted.. 

Today really is a shit day...

Day11: The Jeremy Kyle Show

It's not so much The Jeremy Kyle Show I can't stand, (although it does influence the simple minded, brain dead portion of our population), it's the underclass of human being that has been exposed in this country. 

The type with neck tattoos, trackies, rotten teeth, addictions, benefits, jail terms...

The type of person who would not think twice about robbing your gran.

All borne out of our modern day society, and taking full advantage of it at the expense of others.. And I don't mean the tax payer, I mean the people's lives they make a misery, like their neighbours, their classmates (if they actually go to school), the cars and homes they rob...

Basically the type that shouldn't breed... Wankers.

Day10: Celebrity Wannabes

Big Brother, TOWIE, BGT, The Apprentice, OK magazine, Tabloids... etc etc...

There's only one thing to do with publicity (at any cost) seeking fuckwits....

Shoot them in the face.

Day9: Paul Whitehouse Aviva

Paul Whitehouse was a bit of a hero to me. He was the brains behind Harry Enfield's rise to stardom, and I loved every second of The Fast Show...

Now I know we all have bills to pay and I don't begrudge anyone working for a living, but there is something CRINGEWORTHINGLY SHIT about Whitehouse in those bollockingly crap Aviva Insurance adverts...

Actually, EVERY fucking insurance ad is bollockingly crap, but we'll save that for another day...

Day8: Rik Mayall

With so many vile individuals in the world, it always seems the good guys get taken from us...

Today really is a shit day...

Day7: Cyber Cats

I'm gonna invent an App that can filter out Cats from social media...

If I wanted to look at a cat sleeping, eating, playing or shitting I'd sign up to pussyporn.com - I don't need to know that your fucking cat is stalking a poor innocent bird in the garden... IT'S A CAT... THAT'S WHAT THEY DO..!!!

Ever wondered what that odd smell from behind the telly is? That's cat piss. That's because your cat HATES YOU REALLY, you're just a convenience.

Just remember, if it was any bigger it would eat you regardless of how many cute pictures you plastered the internet with it.

Mee-fucking-ow...

Day6: Supermarket Self Checkouts

Please take the item out of the bag and wait for assistance... 

FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF

Day5: Facebook Attention Seekers

Hey! We all like attention and I use Facebook as a platform to spam (ha!) you my link2wales website - all in the name of music...

Why do people post 'I've had enough of this..!' on facebook in order to get a deluge of 'U ok hun xxx?' replies..?
Well, for attention of course...

And of course the other cringe-worthy cases are where you watch someone's relationship break down before your very eyes, word for word, blow by blow... 

There's a place for dirty washing and it ain't in public...

Have a little bit of dignity FFS!!

I've had enough of this...!!

And yes I'm fine... Now fuck off..!

Day4: Spam

I just don't get it... Are there still numbskull morons who actually click on a link from an unsolicited email promising them a 12" dick, a mountain of viagra and 30 squillion quid in their bank accounts? And if there isn't, then why the fuck are these pieces of crap spams still sent in their droves?

What's even worse are the fake accounts that try to infiltrate Facebook groups to sell you Ray Ban Sunglasses (who in the UK ever sees sunshine??).

I've got a nifty spam blocker for my own link2wales website, without it, the site wouldn't exist, as in three years it's been hit nearly 350,000 times with shit comments like this, 'I really appreciate this post. I’ve been looking all over for this! Thank goodness I found it on Bing. You have made my day! Thx again' and a link to some oral fucking jelly or something stupid like that. Thankfully, the blocker keeps it all out.

I would love to meet a spammer, just 15 minutes of me and them in a locked room would suffice... (prick)

Day3: Tribute Acts

Sometimes I think I hate tribute acts more than life itself... 

The world has become a sorry place where the cocks and the tarts who wouldn't even know what a 'local' band was, will happily pay £20 to WATCH A FUCKING LIMP DICKED BUNCH OF CUNTS pretending to be their heroes on stage... And what's worse... Getting paid for doing it..!

There are a couple who do it as it should be done, such as Gabba Abba Hey, who are an Abba tribute act playing the songs in a Ramones style.. Now that's neat. And I know some who go out as a tribute act to fund their real band, which is sad, but true...

But nobbers like Noasis, King Ov Leon, Black Market Clash, Sex Pistols Experience, Machine Gun Etiquette take the place of real bands, who play real and original music (wankers).
It's a sorry state of affairs that the only way venues, promoters and bars can survive is to put on such crap to pull in the arseholes willing to pay to see it. Fuck Off..!!!!

Day 2: Supermarket Bastards

Supermarkets are the scourge of the small entrepreneur. I despise them with a passion... Big corporate bastards sucking the life and soul out of EVERY town in the country.

Most High Streets are now paved with Tanning Salons, Nail Salons, Hairdressers, Dentists, Kebab Houses, Tattoo Artists and boarded up shops.

Nearly every bakery, fishmonger, butcher, fruit 'n' veg shop has been forced out of business by the huge corporate bullies that are supermarkets.
And mark my words.. It won't be long before you can get your nails done in Tesco, have a dental check-up in Asda, get your car MOT'd in Sainsburys and a fucking tattoo in Morrisons...

I visit supermarkets very often to pick up their Reduced items. Tonight I picked up tea, lunch and dinner for a whopping total of 60p, as for buying anything else they make it so hard... Where can I buy fish without using a boat?

Here's a point though... Tesco's 'reduced nearly out of date' fruit and veg is still more expensive than Lidl and Aldi's very fresh and in-date produce. (bastards).

'Saving you money every day' - piss off...

'Every little helps' - go and fuck yourselves...

DAY 1: I Hate Anyone Who Drives A Toyota Yaris... Wankers

I've seen so many people attempt #100HappyDays and to many extents it has proved to be good for their souls - or they're kidding themselves.

So I thought I'd try and vent my spleen with a HUNDRED DAYS OF SHIT...

For DAY 1: I hate anyone who drives a Toyota Yaris... Wankers

I only use the Yaris as I was behind some fossilised shit driving one today through Colwyn Bay at FIFTEEN MILES AN HOUR, who proceeded to brake at every corner...

Without getting all Jeremy Clarkson on you, and I know it's stereotypical, but you can quite often guess who's behind the wheel by the car they drive.
Eg; Nissan Note - the name says it all... I mean, a Nissan Note... What wanker buys a car called a Nissan Note? A Roundabout Wanker, that's who...

#100ShitDays

Wobbly Hearts in the Daily Post

 

There's something very special about this band - they're like an unshackled Gintis

Stone Roses reunion at Heaton Park

 

It took me a good year to get into Stone Roses - had heard them in their pre-famous days courtesy of John Peel. Once the hype came along and the luvvies did their loving I simply switched off. After hearing the singles being continually played at The Bistro in Rhyl, I actually sat down and listened to that debut album, like most people people, I was blown away.

So, with my sisters, we went to Heaton Park. The Roses were OK, a lot of the crowd were complete bag-head wankers.

HERE'S THE REVIEW