The land where dreams come true...

You know those places, the sorts where dreams are made... for arguments sake lets say Disneyland for example. Well add a bunch of Shoreditch folk, a lot of alcohol, a sprinkling of sand and a dash of salsa dancing and you get Shunt (the 'interactive' gallery/club under London Bridge station). Well i'll tell you something...i've never seen anything like it in my life.

In every alcove a different magical experience awaits, from bingo to pinball. One room had a caravan, a beach complete with sandcastles and even the sea. You better believe it kids. A trip to the little chapel gave every tipsy couple the chance to get hitched, even offering wedding attire and bouquets. Sounds a little bit Glasto doesn't it?

Ten pounds may be a tall order for students but i'll tell you it's the best tenner i've spent in months. Not a pretentious club kid in sight which was the refreshing twist. Having said that who's too cool to build sandcastles and go paddling in the sea? Most definitely not me that's for sure. Now if you excuse me i'm off to wash the sand out of my ...ahem toes.

When it rains, it pours.

Men are like london buses. When you want one it is the hardest thing to track down in the world, and when you aren't too bothered, it's sunny outside and you want to save a bit of cash so you may as well walk, three come at once.

This is my social observation of the week. Horoscopes have regrettably become my best friends.

On the contrary to the headline it has been gloriously sunny here in the Capital this week. It is however highly unfortunate that on the hottest day of the year i am cooped up inside writing this blog and 'revising'. I call it 'revising' because it isn't really. It's just flicking through my notes aimlessly hoping something might stick. Here's hoping.

I am also particularly sad today because it is Darwen music festival, perhaps the greatest thing that has ever happened to Blackburn and Darwen since the 10 hour day. And i am stuck here in oh so sunny London. That doesn't quite sound right does it?

Anyway my books are calling me so i will return with more enlightening tales next time.

Most certainly not the National Front.

Neils Children and Disconcerts @ The Queen of Hoxton 04/05/09


The whole of the moustache club were out in Shoreditch last night to see these two fresh new bands on the scene at a free, yes you heard me right, free gig in the lovely brand spanking new Queen of Hoxton which is just fabulous don't you know. Unusual crowd considering the band were very much british punk which for me was unexpected. I, clad in my tartan dress was very fitting with the politically fuelled tales of backstreet Britain. How very working class.

The Disconcerts were up first and although raising a relatively small crowd they provided a quick travel back in time to the 1970's for their short 30minute set. The lead singer's voice was not unlike Johnny Rotten's, the difference between these young lads and Pistols being that the disconcerts could play their instruments. Very well in fact. The only way to appreciate this music was to po go like it was 1979 and is just what the crowd did.

Towards the end of the set the Queen started to fill up and after the whole place cleared for that all so very important cigarette for the Shoreditch crew, they were back for Neil's Children.



(Before their makeover!)

I've seen this band before but i am pretty sure the lead singer did not look like the little boy from This is England last time??! Clad in docs, drainpipes, shirt and braces the lead singer/guitarist could easily have been an extra in the film. The bassist looked very drawn and Ian Curtis like with his polo shirt done up to the top and the drummer had black and blonde hair sticking out all over the place in a gothic esque way. This band looked like they shouldn't work but they really, really did.

After some heckling from the crowd...is it ok to shout peodophile at a band member nowadays?? I didn't know that was normal protocol! The band got underway. The lead singers cock-e-ney english tones with the fast paced guitar riffs worked so well. It was the sort of set you couldn't not dance to. After a whopping hour and a half without a break(!) i take my hat off to those lads...the room was awash with sweaty looking club kids (mostly with moustaches, when will this trend end?)

What an exellently free night in a lovely venue with some not so lovely people...i'm talking to you creepy guy stood in front of me.

Definitely support these lovely lads.

First time for everything

Blinded by artificial lights, I was thrust forward into a sea of faces. Each face looked upon mine with anticipation and I froze for a moment, feeling the intense gaze of the masses. I took a breath and it cascaded down the microphone and echoed around the room, bouncing from wall to wall in the eerie silence. I was a preacher and this dilapidated community centre was my chapel.

Suddenly, with only a casual nod from me, the bass drum kicked in and the magic began. The atmosphere changed. Youths began flailing to the rhythm which screeched from the vintage Gretch instructing their feet. It was my moment; I opened my mouth and sang the lyrics which I had penned for hours previous to this. Lyrics which spoke of teenage heartbreak, problems with the government, of which I had no control as at the tender age of fifteen I was not within my voting rights, and the narcotics which I had never taken and probably never would. My insides buzzed with the feedback from the crowd. Although anyone past the first couple of rows remained a blur, I could tell from the sway that we had done something right. As one song blurred into another my mind was on auto pilot so that I could best soak up the atmosphere, just in case this moment was to be the only one of its kind.

Although my interior felt perfectly at home up there on that stage, my exterior translated a very different view. Holding the microphone stand as if using it as a barrier between me and those who watched on expectantly, I clung on for dear life in the fear that I may drift away on the dream which was unravelling as I stood. The rush of adrenalin can be experienced or recreated at no other time than when one is performing in front of a captive audience. This feeling again would send shivers down my spine and play havoc with my stomach but somehow in a lesser form than the very first time. First experiences are ones which shall never be forgotten for this very reason.

Super Super !

Forgot to mention that some of my writing got published in the latest Super Super! :)

Go buy!

Killing in the name of?

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past week then you will have seen/ been/ heard of the protests on the G20 summit. You will have heard of the drastic measures taken out by the government to try and keep violence to a minimum (that is not including police violence of course). Closing tube stations, boarding up shops etc and the drafting in of three police forces for back up. As I heard someone say, it would have been a good day to rob Essex...

By craftily putting out a headline to the London Paper a couple of days before that London was on high terror alert, Gordon and his gang ensured the city was like a ghost town. A trip on the tube for me was almost enough to give me a small stroke, finding myself watching fellow passengers' every move.

So, there were two protests today, one for the banks and a later one to end the war on Gaza. After the harrowing pictures from the morning events, showing effigies of bankers being hung and printers been thrown out of the RBS' top floor windows by folk in balaclavas the afternoons efforts seemed rather pathetic. Now there isn't anything gained from violence but an eye witness (flat mate) said that the protesters on Regents Street, marching against the war on Gaza didn't seem to be too sure on what their aims were exactly. Anti war slogans turned into booing at a nearby McDonald's and the celebrity guest protester...every ones favourite hell raiser (ahem) Russel Brand shouted, 'revolution!' which to me seems rather not what that particular protest was about?

Protesters are still waiting around now and the sound of an overhead helicopter tells me that 'maximum' security is still ongoing. While the campers sleep rough, the bankers live in their lap of luxury. Is throwing a printer out of a window enough? Dare I say does Brand possibly have a point?...


Image AOL News

Stay Tuned...

...never fear, I am alive and well. Currently undertaking an internship at Super Super magazine and to that effect have been Super Super busy so posts will return next week after a long awaited rest. Blackburn is once again calling in it's dulcet tones and my flu has mutated into a chest infection. Have had visitors this week, a fear I have began a small northern community in Whitechapel. Soon we will be known as a small klan or a sect, I'm sure. Anyway farewell for now.