Racism in the UK today.

Jan Nieupjur writes:

I read today that 25% of the population is openly racist. Add to that the 50% of the other 75% who weren't being honest that gives you a figure of 62.5% of the population as racist in some shape or form. Full marks to UKIP for tapping into this. My prognosis is that the Tories will move to the right to capture this voting mass, Labour will move back to the left in an an attempt to regain some honour, the Lib Dems will go back to buggery and shooting dogs (apologies to anyone who does not remember the glory days of the Liberals), UKIP will vanish and the Green party will remain a single issue party without a hope in hell. Shoot my dog If I'm wrong Jeremy Thorpe.

Terry Gilliam's Cellini at the ENO and stage door security.

This is a bit of a coup. It is a photograph of the set for Gilliam's production of Berlioz's opera 'Benvenuto Cellini'  for the ENO at the Coliseum which opens next week.

Stage door security was crap!

Details HERE 

UKIP openly pissing in the swimming pool.

The United Kingdom is riddled with intolerance, bigotry, racism and prejudice. No one is without guilt and no one is more guilty than our political parties.

Let us consider the UK as a public swimming pool… Everyone is quietly pissing in it as they swim, we all know this and we all accept this. It just is!

Along come these UKIP chaps and instead of doing the normal thing of getting into the water to disguise the pissing they are openly standing on the edge pissing in on everyone else.

Everyone else is screaming 'foul play' while they continue to piss themselves.

But the truth is that the pool is full of piss and a little bit of honesty will actually cause discussion and hopefully, action.

Death of yet another Portobello pub and bad news for dolphins.

The Market bar (latterly Shannons) was once reason enough to come to Portobello Road, it was quirky and original until the health and safety jobsworths interfered. Now it is closed!

The basement is being dug out in readiness for a sushi restaurant and bar.

Sushi, to my mind, is the emperors new clothes of the food world. Over priced, pretentious and as useful as origami or feng shui. I cannot see it doing much business on that site, the tourists only want a slab of street food and the locals will not be able to afford it. The Bankers do not stray that far down Portobello, they get nose bleeds passing All Saints!

A new sushi place means more tuna being caught, more tuna fishing means more dolphins getting killed in the process… An origami butterfly flaps its wings in Portobello Road and a million dolphins die on the other side of the planet.

Boo's reviews No: 1. The Electric Diner, Portobello Road.

An occasional guest blog by Morgana, the Sultana of Boo. Her views are not necessarily my own.


One of the first truth's I have learnt in my short life is that it is far better to have just enough money rather than shedloads of the stuff. If you have too much money you forget what a treat is and ones life flattens out into a salt pan of excess. Just enough money means that one can have a real treat that doesn't involve flying to the Seychelles in a private jet.

It is the Muse's birthday today so I took her and the poet out for lunch, a late lunch, at the Electric diner which is attached to the cinema (which in my opinion should show more films like Bambi) which is part of the Soho house chain.

Inside it is nice, because it is a long tunnel of a space it feels like a tunnel but with light at the end of it but without any trains. There is a long bar on one side and booths on the other. We had a booth and I got a clamp-on baby seat which meant I could stand up in it yet still be strapped in. This is important as I spend most of my time practising standing at the moment with a view to walking soon.

The staff were lovely and the service great, I made a point of smiling at all of them, my fur coat was much admired.

The Muse had chicken in a honey glaze thing and the poet had a burger and fries. I browsed from their plates.  It is Diner food but very up-market diner food and very good.

No one complained about the mess I made and when I threw in a scream (of joy) or two no one raised an eyebrow.

With two glasses of wine and a pint of beer the bill was very reasonable and no more expensive than a number of local 'gastro pubs'. They also do a good kids menu and if you have a cinema ticket the bill is halved which makes me think it would be a cool place for a birthday film/dinner type treat for a young lady… Especially if they were showing Bambi.

When we left the poet left his phone behind but the waitress came after us with it. that saved a lot of swearing I should think.

In all a treat for not much money in an interesting place with friendly staff and, unlike the Seychelles, no danger of being bitten by a crab.

Anyway. If you live in Portobello Road you don't need to be rich because your life already is.

NB. Only nylon animals were harmed in the making of my fur coat.

The influence of Brautigan on my poetry.

When people ask me
who influenced you
in your poetry
was it Brautigan?

I say
no it wasn't.

Chez Lize, Bringing it on home.

This video came my way accidentally. I was curious about what the film maker did.

What the film maker did was to bring something home to me.

I'm lucky, I've got a home.

On top of that it started me thinking how in our wonderful society the mentally ill are the ONLY people blamed for their illness…. They are blamed for their illness because we don't know how to handle it.

The junkies, the alcoholics, the obese, they are allowed to blame an age, a society, a culture but the mentally ill must blame themselves because of course our age, our society, our culture is above imperfection.

The people in this film are beyond blame and beyond responsibility and something bankers should note before they dive out of the 34th floor is that they are (and should be) happy knowing they are cared for.

In the old days we looked after the needy. In this modern day we don't because they don't earn a buck.

The KPH Ladbroke Grove: The worst pub in London and nothing more than a clip joint!

I'm fucking furious!

Vince Power took over the KPH a few months ago, spent a few quid giving it a lick of paint and now manages it himself. So far so good.

A very old friend has his birthday today, he chose to celebrate the day with a drink in the KPH; his local. I turn up, Chris (a teetotaller) offers to buy me a drink, of course I refuse and buy him one.

NOW GET THIS… One pint of Heineken and one soda water with a splash of blackcurrant cost me £9.00. That's right, NINE FUCKING POUNDS! The soda water cost four pounds.

You bet I'm fucking furious.

I told the barman that that was the last drink I will ever buy in that pub.

A crowded KPH, customers 3 deep clamouring for the most expensive drink in London.




Vince Power has painted the inside of the pub green. No doubt to match the colour Vince Power thinks his customers are.

If you are in the neighbourhood of Ladbroke Grove please don't think the KPH is a local boozer, it is not. It is a clip joint pure and simple and Vince Power should be ashamed.

Now Vince Power is a man who should understand that the 'pub' is a working man's institution, posh people with posh pockets go to flash places with accordingly flash prices. By doing what he is doing Vince Power is insulting his own kind. He is taking the piss and then selling it on at four pounds a pint!

Avoid it like the plague.

What Easter is really about: Destruction of the rain forests.

Now, I think I have got this right:

A rabbit was crucified for impregnating the Roman Emperors pet chicken.

When taken off the cross the rabbit was thrown into a briar patch. Unbeknown to everyone, the rabbit was not dead and scuttled down a hole into his warren to re-appear some days later and be heralded as the Messiah.

The hen laid a dark brown egg. The hen was equally revered.

We now buy 5 million tons of chocolate eggs in order to celebrate the union of the rabbit and the hen each Easter. To meet the demands for chocolate eggs the rain forests of the planet are being destroyed in order to make room for vast Palm oil farms  (hence Palm Sunday) to supply the oil which is now the main ingredient of cheap chocolate. The deforestation and the planting of non-sustainable plantations is having a major negative effect on the planet.

If we really cared about the planet and the cycle of life that Easter originally celebrated before the Christians got hold of it we would be planting a native deciduous tree each spring and boycotting the chocolate industry.

Happy Easter!

Over milked Dylan

I doubt if any of the people at the BBC planning to make money out of the Dylan Thomas Centenary have even read or listened to Under Milk Wood.

Gideons bible red,
red as the Portobello sunset;
the eyes of the coke snotted producers schmoozing the Electric.

As

they plan

an




Over Milked Dylan.

Pink moon sighted in Portobello Road.

Tesco, rotten fruit and best before bollocks.

Tesco sold us these yesterday. the label says 'best before the 17th April'. I'd say they were best a long time before that.

And it now seems that Tescos was better a long time before that orange overestimated its value by 25 percent.

Caged by harp.