A Christmas poem.

Friendless sheeting december rain
falling on autumns unraked leaves and memories
and last years christmas cards
promising unblemished snow and peace on Earth.

The loan shark calls
the only friendly face among
the retailers of misery and the uncalled for.
A loan the only necessary thing this christmas.

A child's voice cries out "give"
three billion not so wise men
oblige with tat at the cost of starvation.

Three billion not so wise men
horrified at the desecration of the rain forrest
for our burgers and fuel
destroy forests of conifers
in celebration of a Victorian fad.

The Green Man cringes
amid the holly and the ivy
as the world gorges on its own intestines
in the name of legalised inhumanity.

Humanity and ethics died
with Mickey Mouse
on that cross.

& the friendless sheeting December rain
nothing less than the anguished despairing tears of the one and only god….

Earth.

Westway Trust Ice skating scam on Portobello Green. Notting Hill.

Bollocks and criminal. It is not an ice rink!

There is a criminal offence in gaining pecuniary advantage by deception, it is the act by which con-men are prosecuted. The Westway Development Trust, in calling their scam on Portobello Green an ice rink and charging people to use it as an ice rink, fall into this bracket. It is a plastic area whithout a sign of ice, except the icy glare of the hooded con men running it, described as an ice rink  and costing kids £3.00 a pop to be seriously disappointed by fuckwit grown-ups making a buck out of deceiving kids. No wonder kids don't trust adults and rebel.

Westway development Trust, you are not only a joke but a bunch of criminals conning anyone who comes your way. It is not an ice rink, it is a bit of lino. Kids would have more fun sliding around their kitchens in their socks.

It is yet another example of self important inadequates deceiving innocents in order to flatter themselves and then bringing in a bunch of thugs to help out.

We want our money back and an apology Westway Development Trust. Shame on you, you are stealing from and letting down the community you claim to be helping! If there were a Santa Claus he would be coming down your chimneys with an axe.

Harp in isolation.. Abbey Road Studios.

Don't be depressed about being bitten by a Gila Monster.

A guest blog from Rusty McGlint.

Hi y'all. you know when you are out in the desert getting bit by a critter can piss you off some… Getting bit by a Gila Monster shouldn't depress you though. Research shows that there is Seratonin in its venom, so it may hurt like fuck for a week but you'll hurt laughing.

Also they have found stuff in the saliva that helps Alzheimers and memory loss so if you get lost in the desert get yourself bit by a gila Monster and you'll soon remember the way home.

Oh and merry Christmas from Lizard Bend. Idaho.

Were Damian Hirst paintings taken from Notting Hill Gallery stolen to order? Or was it 'The Swallow'?

Art Correspondent Jan Nieupjur writes:

One of the stolen paintings which were taken off in the back of a car. The police curiously say that they are surprised that the paintings were not spotted in the car… How did the spots disappeared is perhaps more of a mystery than the disappearance of the paintings themselves as the perpetrator was caught on CCTV.



Two Damian Hirst paintings have been nicked from the Exhibitionist Gallery in Blenheim Crescent. W11.

As an artist myself I do understand the need to generate a bit of publicity when one's name has been absent from the press for a few days. there are a number of ways one can go about this: Drunken loutishness in public; Marriage to an unsuitably young girl; open drug use in a palace lavatory; having ones work stolen from a gallery or 'bidding up' ones own work at auction.

One could of course produce some noteworthy original work but I fear that where Hirst is concerned it is impossible to imagine him ever producing something original.

So did Hirst order the theft for publicity purposes?

I have however been sent a photograph of notorious local art thief known only as 'The Swallow' seemingly rolling around on one of the paintings in question.

'The Swallow'


Answers are needed:

Who is The Swallow?
Why did he not use his normal MO; creeping through cat flaps?
What unscrupulous tattoo parlour did the tattoo?
Is Damian Hirst that desperate for publicity?
Who cares?

Rice cake.

Nelson Mandela… Free at last!

Photo: Nicky Newman.

The Ace of Spades. an homage to Lemmy.

Harp in Bedford.

Sarm Studios, Basing Street. W11. Gentrification awaits.

It was bound to happen. The gentrification of Notting Hill/Ladbroke Grove continues apace and another landmark is turned into fat cat housing. I love the use of the term 'Duplex', a ghastly Americanism meaning 'Maisonette'.  

Harp in Huddersfield.

Black harp in a dark shed, Regents Park.

I like this harp, it is black and without embellishment or adornment. It is a harp that doesn't harp on about itself.

It is a Lyon and Healy number 30. Simple and elegant.

Kris Wilkinson Hughes at the Driftwood Sessions.

Wow

Maybe it is my age, maybe it is the autumn weather, maybe it was pure chance.

I've often said that the Elgin on Ladbroke Grove is the best music pub in West London which of course it is. On monthly wednesday nights Tom Moriarty runs his 'Driftwood Sessions'. Tonight I put the baby in the sink for safe keeping, kissed the muse then wandered down.

Kris wilkinson Hughes was playing… Yeah neither had I.  I have now!

It is pure joy to witness such virtuoso song writing and the performance of said songs by… Well by… People doing it as right as you can get. Kris Wilkinson and Joe Hughes, without any pomp or circumstance, without any flash young bling thing, just did it, made my day.

I don't understand music and for that reason do not go into intricate reviews. I do however understand emotion and tonight dear reader I wept. Kris and joe did a song called: No More I Love You's'. A cover of an Annie Lennox song I hear you say. Far from it, Joe wrote it and the two of them tonight imparted something that Ms Lennox never did.

A truly enchanting chance encounter… but not really.

Tom puts on a well worth attending night with his Driftwood thing.

The band that followed was called Farrago. I had time to listen to the first two numbers wondering whether this was jazz or blues or what. The band leader has a voice that makes you want to think about it. I wish I had more time.  I'm going to listen more to their stuff.

I had to leave early to ensure that the baby was not thrown out with the bath water but bumped into Joseph Dean Osgood on my way out. Joseph is at the Chelsea potter tomorrow night. Check him out.





Oh! The Elgin is free, the beer is reasonably priced and it is very civilised.