Another nail in the Portobello Road coffin, Intoxica is closing.

Yet another of the stores that make the road is going.... another victim of escalating rents, greedy landlords and the local authorities apparent desire to turn this once unique street into some kind of tourist tat mecca.

Intoxica (a wonderful little record store) and its like made Portobello road long before that fucking film attracted bucket shop loads of tourists in search of the 'blue door' and the rest of the disneyesque bilge that is now seen as 'Notting Hill' (this end of Portobello is 'Ladbroke Grove' anyway).  Very soon all that will be left is shops and stalls selling plastic routemasters and black cabs, I love London fridge magnets, policemens helmets, dodgy food, 'pop-up galleries' selling naff artwork and the rest of the tourist crap alongside rubbish high street clothing and shoe stores.... Oh and wood fired cheese on toast restaurants.

Portobello Road is being systematically eviscerated and 'insanitised'.

There are theories abounding regarding RBKC and their seeming desire to destroy one of Londons iconic roads. Some say backhanders from the developers, others say that the council is in fear of some kind of mafia thing. Others are inclined to believe that the jobsworths of RBKC couldn't give a flying fuck about anything other than their salaries and a quiet life! 

Of course corruption exists, always has done, always will. 

Portobello road is doomed to become as risible as Carnaby Street and its like!

sad!

I'm going to the Cock and Bottle to drown my sorrows.

Tableware

Mr Pounce, crop circles and soft cheese.

A few days ago I had the good fortune to be invited to dinner by Mr Pounce the esteemed barrister at his grand Gothic pile. It was a small informal gathering nourished by birds that Mr Pounce had blasted from the moorland skies himself. 

The delightful and vivacious strawberry blonde Wilhemina was of course in attendance.

One of the attendees formed a perfect crop circle... The crop in this instance being tobacco.

Or was it a smoke ring?

I thought the cheese rather photogenic.

Harps eye view of the Opera House Guangzhou, China.

Loco at Retro, old rockers, Cloud and THE HIP POCKET.

A guest blog by Jan Nieupjur. As usual his views are not necessarily my own (they are not necessarily his either since the illness kicked in).


The muse being in Hong Kong on a Chinese tour, I decided to have another look at 'Loco', drink a beer or two and say hello to some old friends.

It was packed already at 9.15. One of the bands had brought their fan club which can be a double edged sword; fan clubs tend to talk through the other acts then depart en mass when the band they follow leave. I guess this is why they are called followers.  Tonight the followers left before the meat and gravy. Maybe they were all vegetarians anyway!

I cannot remember the name of the bunch of old rockers reliving their youth that brought the followers; my Alzheimer's is such that if I don't write it down it's gone, by the time I'd found the will to find a pen the desire to write down the band's name had gone. To misquote Saki; as old rockers go they were good and as good old rockers go they went... With their followers. they probably needed to get back to something on the telly.

Not a very good photograph of Cloud. Photo Jan Nieupjur

The old rockers reliving their youth were followed by a local band called CLOUD, see I wrote that down and in capitals. Cloud are young, creative, interesting and well worth catching. There is the potential for a successful band there. I would much rather watch and listen to young men or women exploring their youth rather than old men revisiting it. Cloud made me think of this:



Listen to Cloud here: http://www.myspace.com/cloudlondonbasedband/radio

Interestingly for muso geeks; in the audience were Joseph Dean Osgood, Roger Pomphrey, Tristan the weird poet, Marty from Asian Dub Foundation, two thirds of Taurus Traaker, Steve Dior, Jono the king of 'chub love' and (not Jono) a very gay man, author Charlie Caselton (read his book: 'Meanwhile Gardens'), loads of supermodels etc etc. James Simmins looked very suave in a suave hippy kind of way, you just know that Johnny Depp is going to play him in the movie.

The real highlight for me today was however elsewhere when I caught a glimpse of a new band called THE HIP POCKET in rehearsal (at a secret venue. Kate Moss was there) prior to their launch. Unbelievably good and going stratospheric soon. I have not had goosebumps like it since Hendrix came round and played at my birthday back in the 70's.

I'm told that the band are to release a CD titled 'Studded seams for strength' prior to any live performances. I'll keep you informed!

And then I got home. Cameron, crack, ganja, porn and booze.

I got home after the horrors of the Castle Portobello Road, its cockroaches, juvenile management and gastronomic delusions to find a bunch of drunken kids wreaking havoc under the westway.  Of course these poor kids have nothing better to do in the evening other than wreak havoc. Mummy and daddy, skanked out on crack, booze and ganja have no idea how to bring up their kids and the last place they want their kids is at home interfering with their booze, crack and ganja so they kick them out into the streets to grow up and perhaps get a life.

It did however require the attention of rather a lot of police officers, cars etc. Just the job think mummy and daddy.... Less police to bust us for ganja, crack, prostitution, booze and porn and mismanagement of the country.

Less reason to vote for the conservatives I think.... Cameron! Keep your kids at home.

The Castle on Portobello Road, cockroaches and mismanagement.

I called in at the 'newly refurbished' Castle on Portobello; you know, the troubled pub without a hope in hell save a place to buy drugs and steal handbags. A friend was playing there, you know the Castle is pretending to be a music pub. Jesus wept!

I bought myself a beer, listened to some extraordinary Bill Withers cover while I watched cockroaches cross the floor. Big cockroaches. Massive fuckers.

I asked the barmaid (probable age 15) where was the landlord, she said dunno. I asked who was the manager, she pointed me at a boy who had been sitting the customer side of the bar all night chatting up plain girls and playing with his hair. I approached him, pointed out the cockroach situation whereupon he informed me that, and I quote: 'This is Portobello Road mate'.

He was absolutely right. It is Portobello road and we expect better than that from a scuzzy pub masquerading as a gastro pub charging a fortune for overpriced average food cooked and served in a place riddled with vermin and managed by a kid more interested in anything other than his job.

I will talk to the principals involved in the Castle and ask why they think that what they are providing is anything other than shoddy. Portobello Road is screaming out for some good quality, reasonably priced food.

We do not need cockroach infested, badly managed shitholes.... If we wanted that we would have kept the old Castle as it was;

The Welsh beat the Irish on St Patricks day. And the Cow, westbourne Park Road, shows its true colours.

I spent Saturday having the best of days with people I love, watching Wales win the 6 nations and eating a butter bean. Mr Pounce was in red as befitting his Welsh roots and the muse knew all the words to the songs.

Wales won. We had a drink and watched small boys with light sabers duelling as the sun set.

Then to the Cow... Of course it was St Patricks day and the Cow is an Irish pub... Is it fuck.

Since the diaspora following the potato famine the Irish got everywhere and imbued where-ever they went with the 'craic' and where-ever they went with the craic everyone wanted to be Irish. They never got to the Cow!

The cow is as Irish as Tokyo and it pisses me off to see people who have booked a table to eat being charged £5 on the door to go in because it is St Patricks night.... why weren't the customers warned that they would be charged on the door. The food is good at the Cow but already way over priced and it's not as if they have a celebrity chef.

It is a pub.

The landlord is rarely there.

I have never know an Irish staff member there, unless Albania is suddenly Irish, not to knock Albanians but they ain't Irish.

Diners were charged at the door to eat at a table they had booked.

The owner wasn't there to explain why this was the case.

Gaz Mayall was there with his band which made the whole thing magical. Without him, Roger Pomphrey and a couple of others it would have been SHIT.

The Cow suffers now from the malaise frequent in other 'destination' pubs/bars in that they don't give a shit if you don't like it because thousands of others are there to be suckered.

If not suckered then happy to pay a premium in order to feel that they are part of the Notting Hill trustafarian, coke driven 'better than you' never really worked in my life mentality.

Oh. And what did the door charge pay for? It payed for the bouncers!

Highcreditscore.co.uk & rewardsnow.co.uk SCAM.

High Street Credit.co.uk & Rewards.co.uk are a bunch of lowlife scammers.

One way of looking at the danger of gum.

Jan called round today for a glass or two. there was a pack of gum on the desk, not my gum I hasten to add but gum left by a visiting Legionella tester (don't ask, long story).

Jan said: 'I bullied my kids, and in order to bamboozle them about drugs n stuff. I told them they could do anything but chew gum, gum was out of bounds, beyond the pale, gum was, let's face it, infra dig. do smack I said, do booze, smoke 80 Kapstan full strength a day I said. But do not do gum I said.  My theory was that they would eschew the drugs of my choice and go for the one I abhorred. I believed that they would chew gum above any other vice to poo poo me.'

Did it work I asked Jan.

'No'. He said. 'One of my sons is an alcoholic, another a junkie and the third is dying of emphysemia.'

'At least'. I said. 'none of them died choking on chewing gum'.

'No'. He said, and then went on: 'But if a child is going to predecease a parent the child should have the good sense to get it over and done with quick. Parents spend most of their lives worrying about their children's ability to live unparented instead of enjoying drugs and stuff like that:.

Architectural eyesore and everything that is wrong with modernism on Westbourne Park Road.

A guest blog by Jan Nieupjur.


As usual Jan's views are not necessarily mine




It has been there for a while. you must have seen it; the piece of 'modern' architecture on the corner of Basing Street and Westbourne Park Road.

Cripes!

If this is modern god help us. If this is 'Purist' god help us. If this is good architecture god help us.

As the founding father of 'Nieupurism' I am horrified by this upended shoebox with applied faux Puginesque perpendicular wooden bits; a cross between a Morris Traveller and a 40's mock tudor semi in Harrow without an original idea or a spark of excitement.


The build quality too is risible; We have no contractors in this country that can handle modernism due to our ridiculous planning bullies and our collective refusal to embrace anything other than period pastiche. There is already damage to the flimsy, thin set lower walls and it can only deteriorate.

As I started to photograph the building a crow perched on the CCTV camera on the corner cawed loudly, crapped then flew off; a sure indication of Le Corbusiers feelings about this carbuncle. Ed's note: This is a pretentious in joke and play on corb's (the crow) nickname.


In terms of fitting in with the environment, physical, social and economical, the beautifully graffiti adorned wasteland corner was always going to be impossible to beat.

On a final, sad note I see that the occupiers of the building have decided to eschew the minimalist ideals and fill the windows with  swags and tails and clutter. It is an eyesore at best. It looks like a derelict charity shop.

A pint for the inner woman on World women's Day.

World Women's day today... I'm giving Michelle my inner woman free rein as well as buying her a pint!

The fish Pond on Portobello Road... Gone!

It wasn't the best chip shop in the world but it was useful, which cannot be said about yet another 'emperor's new clothes shop' that will more than likely replace it!  Rumours abound about what exactly is going to happen in this stretch of the road, especially the Poundshop site. there is talk of a major high street clothing store moving in. The name 'Urban Outfitters' has been bandied about.

Another nail in the coffin then.

I'm Bound To Pack It Up.

An avante-garde version of the original White Stripes song. Track #2 on the album Aluminium released in 2006.

Murray Lachlan Young and harp.

A very rare photograph of the poet Murray Lachlan Young warming up for St David's Day with harp. 

St David's day.

Mr Pounce the Barrister put on a slap up leg of lamb yesterday to celebrate the patron saint of Wales (the United Kingdom's only home grown saint). The Fragrant Wilhelmina was of course present as was a flag, daffodils, welsh cakes hand made by the Princess of muses and great cheer.

Goodbye Tesco disco.

This morning I noticed that 'Tesco Disco', the Balkan drinking den on Portobello was being ripped apart. 

Tesco Disco was where you went when everything else was closed and a drink was essential. It was an edgy place at times.

Sad to see another piece of Portobello go.


Apparently it is going to become an Italian Restaurant, hopefully not another pizza place.

UPDATE. May 2013.

Well what do you know! It is another pizza place but a good one! Review of sorts HERE

The Ryan O'Reilly Band on Lake Como.

Whjat a great photo.

These Reigning Days at Barfly.

I saw this band earlier in the year at the Elgin. I'm going to see them at Barfly on Tuesday. I see no reason why you should not do otherwise... You'll be pissed off if you don't.

Naked skull.

I cannot find anyone to credit for this... Wish I could!

Sunday High Noon with the kids... Bloody Mary anyone?

Sunday afternoons from midday at Supperclub might be the answer!

High Noon Free Entry.....a place to come chill, read the papers, kids
menu, facepainting, entertainment, games, movie, kids encouraged to
come in a western theme, pram park, skate park next door.......DJ
Konal, great music, Bloody Mary Bar, great brunch menu.

ENO 'Death of Klinghoffer' at the Coliseum.

10.00 am I was at the coliseum in London for the dress rehearsal of the controversial opera ' Death of Klinghoffer'. An odd time for opera, but perhaps the ENO thought it wise to stage it then to avoid the possibility of demonstrations against it; 10.00 am is far too early for demonstrators to do anything other than rail against the alarm clock. On its debut the opera attracted an amount of complaints due to it's subject matter. The opera centres on the 1985 hijacking of the Italian cruise ship Achille Lauro by the Palestinian Liberation Organisation. The hijackers killed one of the passengers, a retired, wheelchair-bound 69-year-old American Jew named Leon Klinghoffer. Goodman's script imagines what happened on the ship.

The English National Opera (ENO) is putting on seven performances of the opera at the London Coliseum over two weeks. It is being directed by Tom Morris, best known as the co-director of The National Theatre's smash-hit adaptation of War Horse and helming the controversial musical satire Jerry Springer: The Opera.

Originally opening in Brussels in 1991, the opera courted controversy even before a single note of John Adam's music was heard. Critics condemned the artistic merit of the play, questioning whether art should be made out of a tragic incident. 

From what I saw and heard this morning I can only assume that the piece relies on controversy rather than content. Sure it was good enough, save a weird disco-beat moment, but there was nothing there to captivate, no character to empathize with, no romance and no great songs. the best of it was to my mind the hard working chorus who had the biggest role... It was disappointing to note that, in the blurb handed out pre-show, the production team got name checks down to assistant hair and make-up and the women altering and dyeing the frocks whereas the chorus were left un-credited. Very odd indeed.

Alan Opie, playing Leon Klinghoffer holds a grenade during the dress rehearsal Photo By DYLAN MARTINEZ/REUTERS

The set relied heavily on projections with bits of deck and superstructure wheeled on and off during the production, Is that normal in opera?

The band was great, I sometimes felt that the singing detracted from my enjoyment of the music. The libretto was clunky and decidedly un-lyrical (something one can tolerate in work translated from German or Italian but disappointing in a work written in English), I am by no means an expert but as a poet I hankered after a bit of poetry. I was expecting gun shots so was not surprised by them apart from the moment when the harpists string broke with an unscripted bang.

All in all interesting to witness rather than a great joy or great art. More like a wacky modern history lesson with music. 


Have I said that I enjoyed the chorus?


This is what Rabbi Shmuley Boteach has to say about it in the Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-shmuley-boteach/does-the-english-national_b_1273025.html
In case you were wondering, Shmuley is the bloke who brought us 'Kosher Sex: A recipe for passion and intimacy'. People often ask me if I make stuff up, with material like this I don't have to.

Tutu. Harp. Wishful thinking.

What is it about tutu's?  I spotted this one in St Martins Lane this morning.

And Harps? I found this one in Notting Hill.

All that is needed now is someone to wear the tutu while playing the harp. That's not asking too much is it!

The bathroom of Elvis's death.

Walking past this window in Kensington Park Road a five year old boy said to me, without preamble, 'That is where Elvis Presley died'. I asked him why he thought that. He replied: 'People always put flowers where someone has died!'

There was also black loo paper (I'll go back and photograph that another day) present.

There we go then... Pretty conclusive evidence.

Westway Development Trust. HSBC and discrimination.

I received this by email from Westways Development Trust... It looks innocuous enough; a gallery show on the theme of disabilty, until you have a good look! One definition of disability in the blurb is 'Inability to pay' yet there is a submission fee for participating artists. OK! so it is not open to the disabled.  Then look again at who is sponsoring it: HSBC the multi squillion profit making bank who pay their directors obscene bonuses while shutting down vital community banking facilities because they say it is too expensive, ensuring that the handicapped need to travel further in order to find a bank. HSBC probably don't care because the handicapped don't have much money anyway.

Why do Westway need to charge an entry fee if the thing is sponsored by fatcats? Why is there not a concession for those financially handicapped? Is the entry fee refundable  should ones work not be accepted? How much money exactly is HSBC providing in return for this blatent advertising?

Who the hell advises these people and do they really think this is doing them any favours. And westway development trust need to decide exactly what role they play in the community... They seem concerned only with making a profit at the expense of local needs.  Discussion please.

Guaranteed next day delivery. A valentines day poem.

I killed my love on valentines day

I didn't chose the date

especially...    To kill my lover, my only and forever, my darling, my soul mate

It just happened that on valentines day

love simply turned to hate

If you could ask him he'd blame my husband

and the fact that I still drank from the marriage cup

even though I'd long left him

was well nisi'd up

But his mother was the problem

I knew he would never leave her

So I gave him a poisoned chocolate orange

then segmented him with a cleaver

Chopped him up then boxed him up

sent him to his mother

along with his valentine card

that assured me he loved me like no other.

I chopped him up and boxed him up

and sent him DHL

to his needy spiteful mother

in her surburban hell
but they took a week to deliver him
and were alerted by the smell

that was my undoing

the disposal of my dear dead ex

I should have chopped him up and boxed him up

then sent him by FedEx.

Guaranteed next day delivery.

ENO Tales of Hoffmann at the Coliseum.

To the Coliseum last night along with the muse, Mister Pounce the barrister and his delightful squeeze; Wilhelmina for the dress rehearsal of the ENO production of  Jaques Offenbach's 'Tales of Hoffmann'.

What a delightful thing it was, beautifully designed and lit, plenty of humour, wonderful singing, plenty of dying women, student drinking songs and a gorilla....What more could you want.

Romance in Notting Hill.

Much better to be obese than a smoker as far as the government goes.

A guest blog from Jan Nieupjur. As usual his views are not necessarily my own.

        This is what the government and the supermarkets want to see.

I'm horrified. Supermarkets are now obliged to hide cigarettes from the public. Smokers finance the NHS, the armed forces bombing the fuck out of oil rich countries in order to pander to Uncle Sam and smokers finance the government. Why must fags be hidden when I can see fuck mags, gun mags, racist shit etc on clear sight for children.

What is the age you can buy cigarettes at? Address that.
Why are we poodling up, at great cost, to the Americans?
Why are supermarkets freely offering, in open view, buns, cakes, lard, donuts, crisps, more lard, sweets, sad bloke meals, all that shit at discounted prices to hordes of obese fuckers clogging up the aisles, the pavements, the hospitals and their arteries.

FACT: Smokers pay for the treatment of fatties and their revolting obesity. Smokers are the most generous people in the country. If ever an arse needed kissing it is a smokers arse and a smokers arse is a damn sight more kissable than a fucking great obese arse. I know I've kissed enough arses in my life.

It is a shame that Cameron won't step up and tax all his coke snorting buddies... There is the answer. That and disbanding the armed forces and using the spare guns to kill fat people.

Western civilisation is in decay; we are, metaphorically, obese, lying on chaises longue, eating grapes and buggering small boys while the rest of the planet suffers. Shame on us!





Editors note: Whoa there Jan. 

Jackie Kennedy nee Bouvier. What did she see in Aristotle Onassis?

Andy Warhol 1983. Albert Watson?

I found this print. It appears to be signed on the back by someone and is described as 'Unique Vintage printed by Albert Watson. 1983.

Who is Albert Watson?

Blue door. Portobello Road. Notting Hill. Bollocks!

In reality the 'blue door' in the film 'Notting Hill' no longer exists; it wasn't on Portobello road but on Westbourne Park Road and was sold long ago for an obscene amount of money. Yet the tourists continue to swarm down from Notting Hill Gate in search of the holy grail. I have picked up, from the street, written instructions from tour guides on how to find the door. Amazing! I shall be, from time to time, adding images of other blue doors in the area.

I've walked past this door on All Saints Road many, many times but only now have noticed the Number.

The owners of this one have rebuilt the wall, cut back the plant but thankfully left the door as it was.

Snow in Portobello. Loco at Retro the pope and Trellik tower..

It snowed on Saturday night but this did not deter the hardy crowd who turned up at LOCO. Including, it appeared, God's representative:

It appears that Rob Alder has seen the light. It was a great night. The full line up was, according to James Simmins, as follows: Delphi Newman and 7 Glorious Minutes (featuring Tino Troy), Phil Ram & The Great Outdoor Experience, Resident Poet Tristan Hazell, Roxanne & The Painkillers, The Freak Elite, Paul J Riley, OJ Jennings, Tim Gill, Conrad, Wills, The Dave, The Retro Virgins and Simon Billing's Jazz Trio!!! Rob Alder rocked the show!!! 

He went on to say:  Special thanks to everyone that braved the elements and supported the event!!! Next Saturday artists will include Chrystina Tomlin, Cuthbert 80 (AKA Darnell Ibraham) & George Frakes!

                                             Snow, not cocaine!

Trellik tower in an unusual light.

Always Never. A valentines day poem.

I met my love on Wormwood Scrubs

he was running for his life

'Hide me from the law' He says

and I'll take you for me wife.

Now, I'm a middle aged shy spinster

and I've never had a man

at this uncertain time of life

you've got to grab it where you can.

I put my coat about him

my hat upon his head

when the old bill came running up

'He went that way' . I said.

My first man was true to his word

his loyalty didn't falter

six weeks later in Turnham Green

he met me at the alter.

Standing there in the eyes of god

the union about to be blessed

up stepped a copper in a shiny suit

cuffed him... 'You're under arrest'.

I says to the copper 'You can't do this,

You're destroying our future lives'.

'He's got his life'. He says with a grin

'For the murder of his last three wives'.

I now visit my love in wormwood Scrubs

It is a love that will last forever

for when I ask the board about parole....

The reply is always never.

David Cameron and a mysterious death.

GUEST BLOG by Lachlan.


One day at school I had the pleasure of meeting David Cameron. It was weird because the temperature was 60 degrees Celsius and there was an atmosphere full of terror. There was a failure because one of our classmates died in a mysterious accident. People say that someone captured him and gave him the disease.

Der Rosenkavalier at the London Coliseum.

I'm not an opera fan, not because I don't like it but because I had never been.... Until Wednesday night when I was lucky enough to snag a ticket for the dress rehearsal of Der Rosenkavalier at the Coliseum.

I had expected to be bored (it is nearly four hours long) but far from it, it was great. I felt that the first act was overlong but the girl on girl snogging throughout held my attention. Things got better in the second and third acts culminating in not one fat lady singing but three slim ladies singing together. This 'trio' is, I am informed the famous bit of the opera.

The set was delightful, the music splendid and I lasted the full four hours.

Walk off the earth: 'Somebody I used to Know'.

I'm late posting this... It is great!

Photography in the Amazon at the Tabernacle W11

Friday - January 27th 6.30 - 10.00 - Open View

Campbell Picks presents...Photography in the Amazon
Following the journey of photographer Eloise Campbell through Peru, the Amazon basin and into Brazil at the end of 2011. This exhibition brings the people and places she encountered on her journey to one of West London's premier galleries. 
Whilst working as part of the team for music-based charity Keys of Change (www.keysofchange.org), Eloise encountered the continents powerful beauty, it's wonderful people, and it's awe inspiring hold over any who journey there with a camera.
The photographer will be in attendance for this one night only viewing to talk about her experiences.

Portobello Music, Pete Doherty and smashed guitars

Walking down All Saints Road this morning I stumbled upon this scene:

Neil; Proprietor of 'Portobello Music'  strumming a guitar in the street.

Turns out it is Pete Doherty's guitar which had arrived at the shop wrecked (it would be interesting to know how it got smashed in the first place) and Neil had the thing reconstructed. I witnessed it's first public strumming in the January sunshine!

Neil can be heard performing at 'LOCO': https://www.facebook.com/groups/344865642191981/ at the Retro Bar on Saturday nights from the 4th of February onwards.

Portobello Music's website is here:http://www.portobellomusic.net/

Black Cock...

Eurozone crisis and the solution. Self burying undertakers.

Friday the 13th and Europe is bust. The Euro is now worth 10 pence. Great news for us as our holiday in Torremolinos will now cost peanuts and Fiats will be given away with the purchase of a jar of Dolmio sauce.

However. What about the 50 euro note I changed for a bloke in the pub last week, now worth nothing rather than being my retirement nest egg.

Looks like I'm going to have to continue working long after my death. As will the rest of the population of Europe.

 Undertakers will be burying themselves soon!

The Portobello Bitch.

The following link arrived by email this morning: http://portobellobitch.wordpress.com/  I shall be looking forward to its development.

Portobello panto 2011. Mick Jones sings 'Should I stay or should I go'

The last night of Robin Hood, this year's Portobello Panto at The Tabernacle, saw local hero Mick Jones, of the Clash, play Good King Richard and do an impromptu version of "Should I Stay Or Should I Go". The evening also saw Keith Allen and Tom Hollander do turns alongside the regular stellar cast.

Rusty, the Diva and weeping into whisky!

Rusty called round last night close to tears and within five minutes I understood why he wanted no water in his whisky; he was copiously diluting it with tears.

"What's up? Rusty". I asked. He told me the following tale.

"I've met a woman, her name is Estella, she is an opera singer, she is my love, my sun and moon, my compass, my mettle detector, I was born for her and she for me and now I have lost her.

My friends warned me about her. Told me that she was hard as nails, a bitch, a diva like no other but I ignored them for she was none of those things to me. The only problem I had was that she would not let me hear her sing, when I asked her she flatly refused and asked me not to press her on the matter. I have to admit that I became jealous of all the other people who were able to hear her sing; such was the beauty of her voice that all men would forgive her divaish behaviour in order to hear her golden voice.  She would not sing for me!

Until last night, fired with jealousy I demanded she sing for me. I threatened to leave her if she would not sing.

She, tears streaming down her cheeks, sang for me. There are no words to describe the beauty of her voice, I must leave it at that!

When she had finished I dried my eyes and said: "That was beautiful. Why could you not sing to me before? What was the problem?"

She replied: "Right you arsehole, you have heard me sing, you are no different from the others now. Fuck off!"

She will not speak to me or see me.

Rusty and I spent the rest of the night weeping into whisky listening to the Diva on the CD player.  Bitch!

London Soundscape on Radio 2

London Soundscape

LISTEN :

Next on:

Today, 22:00 on BBC Radio 2

SYNOPSIS

Charles Hazlewood and Mick Jones lead an impressionistic portrait of London between the 1948 Olympics and today, mixing voice, archive, and music to create a beguiling introduction to Radio 2's Olympic year.

Other voices heard include those of Barbara Windsor, composer Lionel Bart, architectural historian Dan Cruickshank, and many ordinary Londoners, from cab drivers to costermongers.

The songs featured in the two shows are a veritable greatest hits of England's capital. They include London Calling by Mick Jones' own band The Clash; London's Brilliant Parade by Elvis Costello; Carnaby Street by The Jam; Streets Of London by Ralph McTell; Soho Square by Kirsty MacColl; and London Is The Place For Me by Lord Kitchener.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b019444k

Thandie Newton and Noel Fielding read Go the fuck to sleep.

A charming video made by Piers Thompson. The poem is by Adam Mansbach. I love it!

Cannongate Books are also working with that naughty Russell Brand and his 'Tricksters Tales'. Check it out:





There is also a series of videos from David Byrne worth checking out:

Destructive criticism on Portobello Road.

What's this all about then?

At the north end of Portobello (between Cambridge Gardens and Golborne Road) there is a wall; formerly part of the convent, which is used as an exhibition space on a regular basis and jolly good it is too. Last year we had a massive record collection running the length of the wall.

 This was recently replaced by a similarly sized hoarding produced by a local gallery:  http://www.kensingtonandchelseatoday.co.uk/arts-and-culture/exhibitions/cqfz8ufwqy.html Three days later the thing was partially torn down, seemingly an act of mindless vandalism.

"Fucking yobs" I hear you cry!

But wait, there is there more to this than meets the eye (or doesn't meet the eye any more)? It seems that the Gallery in question has a very dark past (and present), earning itself a lot of detractors. This thoughtless act of vandalism is in fact a considered and premeditated comment on the Gallery and its principal.

Who writes:  “This neighbourhood is a catalyst to a wide range of creative expressions. The diversity of cultures, ideas and languages creates a climate that stimulates contemporary creative tensions and why we chose to locate our gallery here. 

It is interesting to see that the installation has indeed stimulated contemporary tensions! There will be more about this emerging over the next few days I'm sure.

A curates Annus.

2011 certainly was something of a Curates Egg; part Annus Horribilis (the best place for that is behind me), part joyous (hopefully continuing).

Ken Russell dead, Oliver Reed, Alan Bates and a body double.

Ken Russell has died. I for one loved his films, his sense of fun and rebelliousness.

Both Oliver Reed and Alan Bates refused to use me as a body double in 'women in love' for a reason I will not go into... It was a size thing!

Ken was a bloody good photographer too.

Photo: Ken Russell.

John Thaw, Drakes Venture, Leonard Cohen and sacred monsters.

In my early twenties I worked as an assistant director/gofer at Westward TV in Plymouth. We made this film which was famously screened the day that Westward lost it's franchise. It has never been screened since that day to my knowledge.

During the filming I worked with one of the best men I have ever met: John Thaw, surely a sacred monster, gave me a great deal of his time and taught me a lot. I did however spend a lot of my time sneaking vodka into his trailer. I experienced being mobbed by middle aged women when driving John; he was still very much the star as a result of the Sweeny....

I married for the first time at the end of filming. John was in Africa and unable to (and probably wouldn't) come to the wedding but sent us a wonderful telegram promising to drink a bottle of vodka in our honour.

John is one of the three men I miss and think of frequently.

It was a very happy summer that year.

the video below is a collection of clips from the movie with a soundtrack from another sacred monster... Leonard Cohen. I have not seen this before.