It annoys me when a free gift is in reality an advertising hoarding for a retail outlet.
Tesco have cleverly left space on this bag for a spot of customisation.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
No such thing as a free gift from Tesco.
It annoys me when a free gift is in reality an advertising hoarding for a retail outlet.
Tesco have cleverly left space on this bag for a spot of customisation.
Friday, 17 April 2015
Thursday, 16 April 2015
Friday, 10 April 2015
West Thirty Six. A muse eyes view (The death of Golborne Road).
West Thirty Six, spawn of Beach Blanket Babylon, has arrived on Golborne Road. I went there this afternoon by pure chance. I'll be reviewing it another time but in the meanwhile I will leave it with the muse:
Fucking hell, £150.00 for a bottle of gin and they cannot even put a staple in the right place on a booze menu.
As I said I will be reviewing the place later.
I wouldn't hold your breath.
Tate Modern Gifts.
Tate Modern gift Ideas.
How about a Banksy grafitti kit complete with stencls, spraycans, balaclava and false balls.
Or a Gilbert and George Rococo shit embellisher. Containing resin and gold leaf for the perfect ormolu stool. (Shit not provided but may be bought separately from the Tate gift shop in handy 30g tins. Price: £97,250.00 courtesey of Piero Manzoni)
Other items on sale include theTracy Emin camping condoms. Signed by the artist for authentic safe artistic fucking intent.
The 'LOOK AT ME' Nicholas Serota mirror... Just repeat after me; If I say it is art it is ART! (This gift works well with Last years 'Emperors new clothing' Curators costume.)
Chapman brother faced false penis noses (set of two). Now you and your brother can look like a pair of dickheads.
The 'Munch Scream' cot and buggy mobile. Ideal for disturbing the very young artist.
Andy Warhol bald patch. Impress your friends with your impersonation of Andy without a wig!
Warhol without wig: http://jannieupjur.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/club-21-remaking-scene.html
The 'Jackson Pollock' Muse beater. An authentic paint spattered singlet ideal for the 'Abstract Depressionist*' during alcoholic rages. Works equally well on long suffering wives/boyfriends.
The Damian Hirst animal mutilation starter set has been withdrawn due to legal issues... It was rubbish and overpriced anyway!
*Abstract Depressionism: Copyright. Jan Nieupjur 2009. http://jannieupjur.blogspot.co.uk/2008/11/barking-on-thin-ice-in-search-of.html
How about a Banksy grafitti kit complete with stencls, spraycans, balaclava and false balls.
Or a Gilbert and George Rococo shit embellisher. Containing resin and gold leaf for the perfect ormolu stool. (Shit not provided but may be bought separately from the Tate gift shop in handy 30g tins. Price: £97,250.00 courtesey of Piero Manzoni)
Other items on sale include theTracy Emin camping condoms. Signed by the artist for authentic safe artistic fucking intent.
The 'LOOK AT ME' Nicholas Serota mirror... Just repeat after me; If I say it is art it is ART! (This gift works well with Last years 'Emperors new clothing' Curators costume.)
Chapman brother faced false penis noses (set of two). Now you and your brother can look like a pair of dickheads.
The 'Munch Scream' cot and buggy mobile. Ideal for disturbing the very young artist.
Andy Warhol bald patch. Impress your friends with your impersonation of Andy without a wig!
The 'Jackson Pollock' Muse beater. An authentic paint spattered singlet ideal for the 'Abstract Depressionist*' during alcoholic rages. Works equally well on long suffering wives/boyfriends.
The Damian Hirst animal mutilation starter set has been withdrawn due to legal issues... It was rubbish and overpriced anyway!
*Abstract Depressionism: Copyright. Jan Nieupjur 2009. http://jannieupjur.blogspot.co.uk/2008/11/barking-on-thin-ice-in-search-of.html
Tuesday, 7 April 2015
Portobello Road celebrates the resurrection of tourist tat
If you were one of the numerous tourists strolling down Portobello Road on Easter Monday you no doubt came away with the impression that we Londoners are a curious lot.
While Filipino's are busy nailing themselves to crosses and the Pope is busy pontificating to the massed fanatics in St Peters Square, we in London are in worshipful homage to the great God Tat, his crucifiction and subsequent resurrection from a hole called Carnaby Street !
There was nothing open except the nasty little shops selling fridge magnets, model busses, T-shirts sloganing a love of this city and any amount of rubbish bearing the Union Jack.
People pay good money to come here for a vacation, surely we can offer them something better than that!
Half a mile away the peacocks of Holland Park are nonplussed too.
While Filipino's are busy nailing themselves to crosses and the Pope is busy pontificating to the massed fanatics in St Peters Square, we in London are in worshipful homage to the great God Tat, his crucifiction and subsequent resurrection from a hole called Carnaby Street !
There was nothing open except the nasty little shops selling fridge magnets, model busses, T-shirts sloganing a love of this city and any amount of rubbish bearing the Union Jack.
People pay good money to come here for a vacation, surely we can offer them something better than that!
Half a mile away the peacocks of Holland Park are nonplussed too.
Thursday, 2 April 2015
Portobello Mysteries No:1. The blind windows of CASHINO.
The blocked out windows above 'Cashino'.
CASHINO is one of those nasty little government endorsed dens of inequality. A room full of slot machines designed to fleece all who enter there. No one leaves these places a winner except the operator and the government.
Why are the windows on the top floor of this building blocked off?
Is it full of money.
Is it where they chain up the occasional winner until he/she hands the money back.
Is it occupied by illegal immigrant dwarves who work inside the machines.
Is it where they train children to steal from parents purses and wallets in order to feed their gambling habit.
We should be told.
CASHINO is one of those nasty little government endorsed dens of inequality. A room full of slot machines designed to fleece all who enter there. No one leaves these places a winner except the operator and the government.
Why are the windows on the top floor of this building blocked off?
Is it full of money.
Is it where they chain up the occasional winner until he/she hands the money back.
Is it occupied by illegal immigrant dwarves who work inside the machines.
Is it where they train children to steal from parents purses and wallets in order to feed their gambling habit.
We should be told.
Wednesday, 1 April 2015
Help finance Hot Wind.
News of this arrived via a friend. Check out the promo film and click on the link to find out more.
Heck, you know you always wanted to be in the movie business!
¡Amigos!
Our Round II Indiegogo campaign for "Hot Wind" was just launched!
Please stop by for a visit at the following link:
Tuesday, 31 March 2015
Trampolines in high winds are the latest status symbol.
We have had some relatively strong winds overnight and the BBC invited people to post pictures of the damage. Here are 2 examples:
These images tell us more about the people inhabiting the Home Counties than about the weather; they scream: "Look at me, I've got a trampoline in my garden". I doubt if there are many of us who could give a stationary fuck, let alone a flying one about a piece of flimsy gym equipment that the owners failed to secure properly.
I look forward to the new phenomenon being taken up around the world after hurricanes, cyclones and tornados.
Perhaps 'the comparative distance travelled by a trampoline' could be added to the international measurement of stuff index (alongside the equivalent distance in double decker bus heights or football pitch lengths or the toss we couldn't give length).
These images tell us more about the people inhabiting the Home Counties than about the weather; they scream: "Look at me, I've got a trampoline in my garden". I doubt if there are many of us who could give a stationary fuck, let alone a flying one about a piece of flimsy gym equipment that the owners failed to secure properly.
I look forward to the new phenomenon being taken up around the world after hurricanes, cyclones and tornados.
Perhaps 'the comparative distance travelled by a trampoline' could be added to the international measurement of stuff index (alongside the equivalent distance in double decker bus heights or football pitch lengths or the toss we couldn't give length).
Saturday, 28 March 2015
Cyclists should dismount from their high horses!
The guy in the picture is not a youth who has nicked his bike, he is not an arrogant courier or 20 something king of the road. He is a late middle aged man who should know better. He is blithely cycling the wrong way down a one-way street. He is one among many hundreds of idiots who do this every day, endangering their own lives as well as the lives of pedestrians. And probably, like all the other idiots on two wheels, he doesn't give a flying fuck about others.
I constantly hear the whinging of cyclists about their safety but if they refuse to abide by the rules of the road they have no come back.
A few days ago I watched as a cyclist got knocked down by a car in Portobello road. the woman driver was understandably distressed. The cyclist picked himself off the road, extracted his bike from under the wheel of the car and then, waving, yelled: 'It's ok, I was going the wrong way on a one way street'. then got back on his bike continuing his wrong way journey.
Cyclists pay no road tax, therefore we can safely say that they are using roads that are financed by motorists. They are the privileged guests of said motorists and should show a little courtesy.
Cyclists do not, like motorists, have to take a test, so we only have their word that they are competent. Many of them are not.
Cyclists should, like all other road users, be registered and display that registration on high vis clothing and on their bike.
Cyclists should also acknowledge that footpaths are for (surprise surprise) those on foot.
Cyclists should dismount from their cod-eco, moral, high horses and accept that the world does not revolve around them!
Oh, and it is not just men:
Friday, 27 March 2015
Wednesday, 25 March 2015
My dog is not a TV, my dad is not an alcoholic. How sad is that.
A guest blog from an 11 year old boy.
I got a puppy for Christmas, outwardly that looks brilliant, but after a week or two the polish wears off.
I cannot watch TV on a puppy, I cannot play games on a puppy, I cannot google porn on a puppy. All a puppy does is live and breathe and love me.
You would not believe the things a puppy does: it shits and pisses and expects me to clear it up. When I shit and piss I have my mum to clear up after me because thats what mums are for. Kids like me are for having puppies that play computer games and stuff & puppies that sit on my lap when the TV is on so I can say I am busy puppy minding when I am really just watching TV. Kids like me are not designed to look after a fucking puppy that no-one said was going to piss and shit or require feeding.
No one told me I'd have to walk the fucker.
Modern society has not taught me that I have to consider anything other than myself and my selfishness.
It is not my fault that my puppy does not understand this. I did not ask it to love me or need me.
All I ask of it is that it enjoys Spongebob Squarepants and craps on somebody else's watch.
I wish my dad was an alcoholic so he would use my puppy as an excuse to go to the pub every day.
Then I wouldn't have to walk it.
And I might love my dad a bit more even though he was an alcoholic and probably would beat my mum up when he got home from the pub.
A dysfunctional family is a small price to pay for me not having to look after my puppy.
I got a puppy for Christmas, outwardly that looks brilliant, but after a week or two the polish wears off.
I cannot watch TV on a puppy, I cannot play games on a puppy, I cannot google porn on a puppy. All a puppy does is live and breathe and love me.
You would not believe the things a puppy does: it shits and pisses and expects me to clear it up. When I shit and piss I have my mum to clear up after me because thats what mums are for. Kids like me are for having puppies that play computer games and stuff & puppies that sit on my lap when the TV is on so I can say I am busy puppy minding when I am really just watching TV. Kids like me are not designed to look after a fucking puppy that no-one said was going to piss and shit or require feeding.
No one told me I'd have to walk the fucker.
Modern society has not taught me that I have to consider anything other than myself and my selfishness.
It is not my fault that my puppy does not understand this. I did not ask it to love me or need me.
All I ask of it is that it enjoys Spongebob Squarepants and craps on somebody else's watch.
I wish my dad was an alcoholic so he would use my puppy as an excuse to go to the pub every day.
Then I wouldn't have to walk it.
And I might love my dad a bit more even though he was an alcoholic and probably would beat my mum up when he got home from the pub.
A dysfunctional family is a small price to pay for me not having to look after my puppy.
Monday, 23 March 2015
Butchers, bowels and burgers.
Provenance, the butchers in Kensington Park Road opened a while ago, a welcome arrival after the closure of the Edwardian Butcher on Portobello Road.
Provenance won the New Butcher of the year award and quite rightly so. They sell very, very good meat, they are pleasant, patient and informative people. Good news.
A number of people I have talked to have complained about the price of their meat. they should consider a couple of facts:
Half a kilo of Wagyu flatiron steak will cost them about £14.00. That is enough to feed four people at (I'll do the maths for you) £3.50 a head. We eat far too large portions of indifferent meat in this country and would do well to go for smaller quantities of better produce. The complainers will happily spend £8.00 on an indifferent burger from a stall yet moan about spending less than half the amount on excellent beef.
Flatiron steak is not a well known cut of meat in this country, it is, as its name suggests a flat piece of steak. It needs fast hot cooking before being sliced. It is, when served this way, incredibly tasty and perfectly tender. If you like steak well done then stop reading and go and buy a burger!
Provenance sell very good burgers too, which, if you so desire you can incinerate.
Their black pudding (We like the triangular one) is proper black pudding, not the pastiche sold by supermarkets. Enough for 4 people to have a slice costs £1.00, the same price as a bag of haribo jellies, How is that expensive.
Last Christmas, instead of the usual insipid turkey or overpriced goose we had a large chicken from Provenance. It was agreed by all that it was the best Christmas lunch ever eaten. It cost £17.00, how much was your Tesco, shed reared turkey that you had to overcook then smear in cranberry jam in order to introduce any kind of flavour?
You could always go to the popcorn shop round the corner where their stuff works out at over £85.00 per kilo.
So... Instead of complaining about the cost of quality they should be thinking about changing their dietary habits and minds. After all, minds are like bowels, better when frequently opened!
Provenance won the New Butcher of the year award and quite rightly so. They sell very, very good meat, they are pleasant, patient and informative people. Good news.
A number of people I have talked to have complained about the price of their meat. they should consider a couple of facts:
Half a kilo of Wagyu flatiron steak will cost them about £14.00. That is enough to feed four people at (I'll do the maths for you) £3.50 a head. We eat far too large portions of indifferent meat in this country and would do well to go for smaller quantities of better produce. The complainers will happily spend £8.00 on an indifferent burger from a stall yet moan about spending less than half the amount on excellent beef.
Flatiron steak is not a well known cut of meat in this country, it is, as its name suggests a flat piece of steak. It needs fast hot cooking before being sliced. It is, when served this way, incredibly tasty and perfectly tender. If you like steak well done then stop reading and go and buy a burger!
Provenance sell very good burgers too, which, if you so desire you can incinerate.
Their black pudding (We like the triangular one) is proper black pudding, not the pastiche sold by supermarkets. Enough for 4 people to have a slice costs £1.00, the same price as a bag of haribo jellies, How is that expensive.
Last Christmas, instead of the usual insipid turkey or overpriced goose we had a large chicken from Provenance. It was agreed by all that it was the best Christmas lunch ever eaten. It cost £17.00, how much was your Tesco, shed reared turkey that you had to overcook then smear in cranberry jam in order to introduce any kind of flavour?
You could always go to the popcorn shop round the corner where their stuff works out at over £85.00 per kilo.
So... Instead of complaining about the cost of quality they should be thinking about changing their dietary habits and minds. After all, minds are like bowels, better when frequently opened!
| Provenance. 33 Kensington Park Road, London W11 2EU |
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