Riga / Koln / Rome

Sunday, 9th February 2020 — Bangor to Manchester to Riga (via Storm Ciara)

What a windy night – they're naming wind and rainstorms now. This one was Storm Ciara, and she made her presence well known. I just hoped she wouldn't delay our flight. Maybe they should name the storms after carbon burning companies - This week's storm is sponsored by Esso.

Spent the night listening to three tracks off The International Split which got played on BBC Radio Wales last night — what a buzz! Storm Ciara was battering roads and paths, forcing bus services to close and even the swimming pool at Eirias Park shut to accommodate people flooded out of their homes. Serious stuff - storming actually! Armageddon.

Charlie and I headed to Bangor for a bit of a swim before I dropped him off as I had to leave for Latvia at 2PM, so I met up with Tim, Steve, Mic and Carlos, and we drove down to Manchester for our flight to Riga.

Airport security was horrendous. Packed, slow, stressful for some, although why get angry about it? The flight was only slightly delayed despite the weather chaos — small win. Landed and made our way to a swanky hostel at midnight. Tired but buzzing, hit the town briefly, and had one too many beers. The storms might rage, but so do we.

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Monday, 10th February 2020 — Riga, Latvia

Woke up groggy, realised I’d belted out "God Save The Queen", "A Little Respect", and "Daydream Believer" at a karaoke gay bar last night (they all loved Carlos!). Too many beers, but a great time nonetheless. We stayed out way too late and only got to sleep around 5AM. Could’ve got up early, but decided against it. Slept until noon.

Enjoyed an excellent full egg, mushroom and tomato omelettey afternoon breakfast in a clay dish at Street Fries Kitchen (in the Old Town) – the perfect antidote. The bracing Latvian air sobered us up fast.

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St. Peter's Church (Svētā Pētera baznīca), one of the most iconic landmarks in Riga’s Old Town

Tuesday, 11th February 2020 — Riga and Trouble

Wow. That was one hell of a 24 hours. We spent seventeen of them on the beer in Riga, it was one laugh after another that ended... poorly. It WAS big and it WAS grown up.... well, ok... it wasn't... Read on...

The night culminated in graffiti, running from the police, flashing blue lights, and eventually being interrogated at the hostel. Steve phoned me mid-Gestapo museum visit to say the police wanted to see me after they showed him crystal clear footage of the previous night’s antics and my distinctive luminous orange hat. What a disaster. I held my hands up, took the wrap, and got fined €143 by the Latvian police. "Ya fackin' idiot," I muttered to myself (for getting caught). Nice of all the lads to chip in and split the fine... oh...

Flew to Cologne in the evening and made it to the hostel around 10PM. Had a couple of beers out of habit, but my body and mind both realised — that enuff za enuff.

Wednesday 12th – Saturday 15th February 2020 — Cologne to Rome and Back Home

After the chaos in Riga and that much-needed reset in Cologne, things began to mellow… sort of.

Wednesday 12th Feb
A fairly chilled day – did some serious walking through Cologne. Saw a cool record store and bought a badge for no reason other than it looked interesting. Grabbed some food (our eating tendencies between us range from filthy kebabs to lettuce) and got to chatting with a lad from Hull – and shared some funny stories from the road. He told us about a guy called Thierry Jaspart, a Belgian artist best known for his work in street art, conceptual art, and provocative installations. He gained notoriety in the 2000s and 2010s for playful, absurd, and sometimes confrontational pieces—often blending irony, satire, and social commentary. Hence the “FUCK THIERRY JASPART!” posters in Koln that are actually part of his own art practice. It's not vandalism against him—it’s a self-referential stunt. Jaspart has, in the past, plastered cities with these kinds of posters as a tongue-in-cheek way to mock the idea of fame.
There once was a 'Neil Crud Must Die' Facebook page in the pre-PC days. Although, far being self-referential, it was eventually taken down.

Cologne – A Moment to Catch My Breath

Before flying to Rome, we did some serious walking around Cologne (something like 17000 steps) – the towering Kölner Dom casting its long shadow over the city and my own thoughts. It was freezing, but I felt oddly grounded. I stood in front of the cathedral — this dark, jagged monolith of human persistence — in other words; IT'S FUCKING HUGE!!!

Thursday 13th Feb

Took a flight to Rome – the moment we landed, it was clear that something's in the air with all this flu malarkey - we had our temperatures taken as we were leaving the airport. Flu virus or no flu virus, this city is alive. Much warmer, more noise, traffic, ancient chaos. Ate pizza (obviously), wandered the streets, soaked in the atmosphere. Visited the Vatican – utterly surreal, the Pope was out though, so I left him a Spam Javelin sticker on his favourite lantern. It’s hard to believe humans still worship made up shit. The Sistine Chapel, those endless corridors of art – by artists all dead, but still alive, in endless art. Did Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and listened out for echoes of Mussolini's speeches nearby - the gobshite fascist.

Also saw The Book of Mormon in Italian, of all things! Didn’t understand a fucking word but still laughed my tits off, although this was after Steve had taken us to an Irish bar.

Friday 14th Feb
Valentine’s Day in Rome – which somehow felt perfect, as the Famous Five of us love each very much. Spent most of the day in Trastevere, drinking espresso and writing postcards - Ha! If you believe that bollocks then you obviously don't know me!. Reflected on the madness of the last week – the running, the drinking, the fines, the highs, the beautiful chaos of it all. Found peace in a quiet restaurant and raised a glass to servitude. Then went on the piss.

Saturday 15th Feb
Caught an early flight out, and as you can see from the pic below, we were still firing on all 4 and raring to go. Said farewell to Italy. Landed in Manchester, then headed west, eventually rocking back in Colwyn Bay with Charlie. Even squeezed in a swim at Eirias Park. Always weird coming back home, back to mundanity of existence, the contrast to the whirlwind of travelling always makes me feel like I’ve returned from another dimension.

Barcelona, Spain

 Sunday, January 19th, 2020 – Barcelona, Spain

Just wrapped up four incredible nights in Barça with Tracey. It’s been an unforgettable trip – a true mix of sunshine, sweat, street art, beer, and sensory overload. The weather was a dream for January – warm enough for shorts and t-shirts by day. The place we stayed had 88 steps up to the rooftop terrace, and every climb was rewarded with a stunning view and, amusingly, the unmistakable scent of weed from the stoners everywhere; this made my chilled reading of the 400 page American Hardcore: A Tribal History book all the better.

We spent hours getting lost in the Gothic Quarter—a twisted maze of alleyways dripping in history, art, pimps and pushers. Stone arches and crumbling facades next to bold, furious graffiti. One highlight was a haunting, futuristic metal sculpture tucked away in a quiet courtyard near an art gallery—a giant face, welded and pierced with steel rods, staring off into nothing. It looked like thoughts were exploding from its head. There was something so introspective and sci-fi about it—like the mind made visible. I just stood there, feeling both seen and slightly disturbed. A beautiful contrast with the surrounding medieval stones.

Another afternoon, we wandered into a narrow street somewhere between El Raval and the Gothic Quarter, the kind that narrows into a living corridor of peeling walls, balconies tangled in laundry and potted plants. The storefronts were covered in stickers and grime, the kind of urban patina that says you’re somewhere real. People were everywhere—tourists, locals, a street guide mid-sentence, an old guy in a beanie looking skyward like he’s seen it all before. The vibe was alive, chaotic but grounded, like the city was letting you in on a secret and laughing at you at the same time.

We hit some brilliant dive bars too—Nevermind (a grungy, skater hole-in-the-wall, complete with an indoor skate ramp), Manchester Bar, Bollocks, and Psycho. Loud music, cheap drinks, great people, wild energy. The spirit of rebellion everywhere. I swear we did at least 14,000 steps a day, probably more. One trek up to Montjuïc Castle nearly did us in—but the views of the city and the sea made it all worth it. Same with the Sagrada Família. Honestly? It blew me away. It’s not just a building—it’s a living prayer, frozen mid-sentence. Unfinished, but complete in its grandeur.

Still – what a place, what a ride. 

Gig Review: Wonk Unit + Laserchrist at The Star & Garter, Manchester

 

Sometimes a night out just escalates.

Saturday 8th December 2019 was one of those nights — when Wonk Unit and Laserchrist took over The Star & Garter in Manchester, and everything descended (or maybe ascended?) into a sweaty, glorious mayhem. I went with Rich and Garry (always a recipe for something), catching the train from Rhyl, and by the time the night was over we were moshing, drenched in beer, and... maybe a tiny bit tipsy.

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🚂 The Journey

We kicked things off catching the train from Rhyl — excited, fresh from our yoga session and drinking herbal tea, and ready for whatever Manchester could throw at us. The Star & Garter, nestled behind Piccadilly Station, is already a venue that feels like it’s held together with spirit, electrician's tape and sweat — the perfect backdrop for what was to come.

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🔊 Wonk Unit: Punk with a Personal Touch

Wonk Unit don’t just play gigs. They create punk-powered parties that blur the lines between performer and audience — just don't ask to be on the guest list. We somehow ended up chatting to Alex, the band’s charismatic frontman, and when he heard we’d be bailing 20 minutes before the end to catch the last train, he literally rewrote the setlist on the spot to include the songs we came to hear. Absolute legend.

The set was chaotic, funny, loud, and full of heart. Moshing broke out, stage-diving kicked off, and somewhere in the madness, someone dressed as a man-sized pigeon started dancing in the pit. There's apparently video evidence out there... unless the herbal tea was a hallucinogen one (Tesco's finest).

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💥 Laserchrist: Angsty Hardcore Fire

Laserchrist were a perfect support act — pretty well spaced out songs, as in, good spaces within their songs (does that make sense?). Their American-style hardcore sound had a dogged punch with memorable tunes. Definitely worth checking out their ‘DIY-Bother EP’ if you like fast, emotional, raw (almost) hardcore punk. They had the crowd riled up early and set the tone for the night ahead.

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🍻 The Aftermath

Did we get too drunk? Yes. Did someone throw up? Probably. Did we care? Not one bit.
This wasn’t just a gig — it was an experience: part punk show, part social experiment, part drunken odyssey. It had heart, laughter, bruises, beers, and a pigeon. Everything you want from a proper underground show. Somehow, I don't know how, we caught the last train home.
When you wake up the following morning and you can't see properly, you know it's gonna be a pyjama day.

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Would I do it again?
In a heartbeat.
With water next time.

Live Review: Crows at Sound, Liverpool

 Saturday nights in Liverpool rarely disappoint — and this one was no exception.

On November 23rd, 2019, I caught Crows at Sound on Duke Street, and what followed was a thunderous, unforgettable night of post-punk energy and atmosphere.

Supporting them were Lumer, and afterwards, we stayed somewhere completely unexpected — a spiritual night at what’s believed to be a former monk's retreat. Here’s how it all went down.

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🔊 The Gig: Crows at Sound

From the moment Crows hit the stage, the atmosphere in Sound shifted. Dark, intense, visceral and completely magnetic, the band commanded attention with every note. Their set was tight, fierce, and immersive — guitars buzzing with urgency while the rhythm section pulsed beneath. Debut album 'Silver Tongues' emerged earlier this year and is played at us in all it's hypnotic glory.

There’s a certain power in how Crows balance the raw with the refined. It’s noisy but never sloppy, atmospheric but never distant. You’re right there with them in every beat.
In short: they were ace — in a genuinely cool, no-nonsense way.

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🎶 The Support: Lumer

Lumer opened the night with a set that leaned more toward the melodic and post-punk. While not as explosive as Crows, they offered some interesting moments — keyboards (occasionally), unrelenting bass, and a black rebel energy that helped warm up the crowd. They didn’t quite steal the spotlight, but they added something different, particularly enjoyed White Tsar (new single, I think)

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🏨 The Stay: Childwall Abbey

After the gig, we spent the night at Childwall Abbey, a hidden gem in its own leafy suburban right. Rumoured to have been a monk’s retreat, it now offers accommodation — and it was just the right kind of peaceful after the chaos of the show. Old stone walls, quiet halls, and an air of calm that wrapped up the night perfectly.

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⭐ Final Thoughts

Enjoyed the whole thing, nearly split my pint across their merch table! Love the basement venue that is Sound and the crazy beer and food they have upstairs.

If you ever get the chance to see Crows live — especially in a venue like Sound — don’t hesitate. 

🎸 Gig Review: King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – Victoria Warehouse, Manchester

📅 Date: 03.10.19
📍 Venue: Victoria Warehouse, Manchester
👥 With: Tracey, Alun Beans, Jxhnno Entity
🎶 Support: Stonefield (AUS)

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🎤 A Genre-Hopping Whirlwind or Just a Dizzying Night Out?

Went to see King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard at the Victoria Warehouse with Tracey. In theory, it should’ve been a full-blown psychedelic voyage. In reality? Felt a bit more like I’d stumbled into a party I wasn’t invited to.

Don’t get me wrong — the crowd was buzzing, the visuals were wild, and the band was tight — but something didn’t connect. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was them. Or maybe it was their schizophrenic setlist.

🐍 Where Was My Rattlesnake?

What I wanted was that hypnotic, loop-heavy drive like you get in their track Rattlesnake — trance-inducing psych rock with grit. But instead, the night turned into a sonic smorgasbord. Gizz (ooh matron!) leapt from one genre to the next like they were flicking through Spotify with a broken skip button.

Psychedelic jam? Check. Microtonal madness? Sure. Suddenly some thrash? Why not. Then a jazzy breakdown. It was all technically impressive, but emotionally a bit... disconnected. I felt like an outsider — gatecrashing someone else's inside joke.

🌌 Saving Graces: Stonefield & Good Company

One genuine highlight was catching up with Alun Beans (yes, that crazed Seagull Kinevil guy from the Valleum capitol of the world, Amlwch) and the tattoo gangsta of Trearddur Bay, Jxhnno Entity. We hung out for the support act — a stoner-psyche band from Australia called Stonefield. Tight musicianship, cosmic energy, and a drummer with serious presence. They nailed their set with a confidence that made them feel right at home on that big stage.

In contrast to Gizzard’s genre roulette, Stonefield brought focus, groove, and atmosphere. They stole the show, in my humble, slightly disoriented opinion.

🌀 Final Thoughts

Maybe it wasn’t the gig I wanted, but it was still a night out soaked in sound and soaked in rain — because, Manchester. It’s always good to feel bass in your chest and hear guitars that sound like they’re melting.

Would I see the Wizard Lizard again? Maybe. But next time, I’ll pray to the psych gods for a set that holds its ground instead of sprinting in every direction at once.

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💬 Were you there? Got a different take? Drop your thoughts below.
🎧 More music misadventures to come — stay weird.

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

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...