Joel's Christmas Message

Now that the pillowcase that I labelled ("Joel Dear - Please Give Generously - Thank You") has been emptied of presents...

Now that I've completed my obligatory annual hour in church, singing carols my dad was saying only yesterday how much he hates (Once In Royal David's City is too preachy, The First Noel too long)...

Now that I've spoken to Sarah so that we can exchange Christmasses and wish we were in the other's houses/arms (alright that was lame I'm sorry)...

Now that we've made the slightest dent in that 19lbs turkey and sampled Brussels sprouts done Heston Blumenthal style (all torn up with butter and bacon)...

Now that we've gotten those cracker jokes out of the way ("What's minty and furry? A Polo bear."), including my brother's one which was printed backwards for some reason...

Now that everyone's harvested their loot from under the tree and torn off the wrapping paper we all took such care applying (and given how close we were to running out last night, you'd think people would have learned to conserve it)...

Now that everyone's presents are in neat little piles (I got an iPod and a woodblock, and these cool little nibbles bowls that my mum made from old 7"s, one of which was Star Trekkin' by The Firm)...

Now that we realise that John Barrowman was always going to be quite good at dancing anyway (and quite loud and annoying when he's not being Captain Jack Sparrow Harkness)...

Now that we've decided we were still hungry, in spite of the huge dinner that filled us up earlier (so much so that we had to take a rest before we attacked the trifle and pavlova) and feasted on turkey and mayo sandwiches...

Now that I've plugged in my new iPod, surrendered my soul to Steve Jobs, and started converting all of my WMAs into something that iPods can handle (I'll get over this Apple-hatred soon enough, just having a few teething issues)...

I can wish you all a Merry Christmas. Hope your stomachs are full of food and your houses full of new stuff.

Sorry about not updating much this month. I daresay there'll be some My Year In Lists stuff before New Year's, and normal service will resume in January.

And yes, I'm as upset as you that I didn't do a Goats of Gemma Meadows Christmas Special where an old miser is visited by the Goats of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. It probably would have been hilarious.

Joel.

69 Christmas Songs

Welcome to Cutlery's 69th Post Extravaganza! A couple of nights ago Sarah, Cliffey and I fired up the Christmas music and got into the festive feel. Admittedly it didn't take us long to give up on the seasonal stuff and move on to exciting-sounding covers from the Live Lounge archive and Biffy Clyro*, but the point is that I've ripped my 101 Christmas Songs compilation to the temporary computer and that means that it's about time you started giving your ears the gift of Christmas music, too. So, as it's our 69th post, I give you:

69 Christmas Songs

1. Bing Crosby - White Christmas
   Obviously. Apparently Bing Crosby was the greatest musical entrepreneur of the 20th Century, what with his early investment in magnetic tape and all, so show the man some respect. Last year was a white Christmas, if I remember correctly. There's a musical based on this (unless the musical came first, I'm not sure); I went to see it at the WMC a few years ago and coughed right through it.
2. Tom Lehrer - A Christmas Carol
   An old favourite of mine about the true meaning of Christmas. My dad introduced me to Mr. Lehrer when I was about 11 and I've never looked back. You may know him for The Elements song; I think it was on The Big Bang Theory or something.
3. Greg Lake - I Believe In Father Christmas
   Perhaps my favourite Christmas song of all time. Of all time! It's criminal how many people don't recognise it when I tell them that. The instrumental bit between verses is 'Troika' from Lieutenant Kije. I played it for my Grade 5 trumpet exam, which I passed with honours thank you very much.
4. Mud - Lonely This Christmas
   Cliffey's rocking this one currently. It sound like Elvis but it's not. I like the spoken word bit towards the end, it's very country music-sounding.
5. Steeleye Span - Gaudete
   As with Greg Lake, I was surprised when I realised how few people know this one. Tom and I did a techno Christmas mashup on Cubase a couple of years ago and he was a bit puzzled by my Gaudete section. Which kicked ass, I might add, especially the way I seamlessly managed to slot a few bars of Funkytown into the mix.
6. The Flaming Lips - Christmas at the Zoo
   Sadly they didn't play this one at Green Man but whatever. It remains a heartwarming tale of doing it your own way...at Christmas. At the zoo.
7. King's College Choir - The Angel Gabriel
   I went busking the other day and once I'd played through all the well-known songs in my book, I thought I'd flex my sight-reading and take a stab at some of the tunes I hadn't heard of. I started playing this one and, to my surprise, it turned out to be a song that Tom and I had sung in the St. Teilo's choir two Christmasses ago! I can still remember Mr. Pratt begging us not to sing "most highly flavoured gravy". 
8. The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale of New York
   Another obvious choice but I felt I had to include it. It's one of the best Christmas songs ever, no doubt, and the intro still makes me shiver. However, for the title of Best Christmas Duet...
9. The Hives & Cyndi Lauper - A Christmas Duel
   ...I'd say this one pips it to the post. Josh showed me this one last year, and for that I both thank and curse him because I've been singing it to myself nonstop for a good few weeks now.
10. The Magnetic Fields - Everything Is One Big Christmas Tree
    Well I couldn't call it 69 Christmas Songs without including Merritt and co. in the proceedings. This one's off Realism, which came out this January, and is a whole lot of fun. It even has a verse in German.
11. Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas Is You
    My Chemical Romance do a cover of this but I've not heard it and as I'm in Central Library at the moment I'm in no position to listen to it. So I'm going with the Mariah original because it's awesome and bouncy and immense fun to sing at the top of your voice, if you can hit those notes. Or even if you can't. Lost the 1994 Christmas #1 race to East 17, the bastards.
12. Allan Sherman - The Twelve Gifts of Christmas
    Yes, it's another comedic comment on crass Christmas commercialism but cut off my coccyx if it isn't compelling. I personally prefer this to the song it's parodying because eventually he just gives up on listing everything he's already mentions and sticks with "...and all that other stuff".
13. John Denver & The Muppets - Little Saint Nick
    We still have this tape somewhere and oh my word was this an inspired collaboration. I don't even think John Denver was in on this track but it still beats out the Beach Boys' version because that one doesn't have Animal going "RUN RUN REINDEER" in the background.
14. Nat 'King' Cole - The Christmas Song
    Another oldie, another goodie. There aren't many other songs that I can hear as much as I've heard this one over the past couple of weeks and still love.
15. Half Man Half Biscuit - It's Clichéd To Be Cynical At Christmas
    I actually quoted this song title at Pete about a week ago when he was moaning about Christmas adverts. Great band, and song, and fan-made video actually. I think Josh has a video of Llama Invasion playing this song in The Gower last year.
16. Alvin & The Chipmunks - Christmas Don't Be Late
    It's not a patch on their various theme songs but oh well, they're not particularly Christmassy so this will have to do.
17. Slade - Merry Xmas Everybody
    I always think of this song and the Wizzard Christmas song as being bitter rivals, perpetually warring for some Christmas #1 spot long in the past. Slade took first prize back in 1973 and I for one think they deserved it. Slade win by virtue of brevity; I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday is just too damn long. Plus the guy from Wizzard shouting "okay you lot, take it!" has nothing on Noddy Holder shouting "IT'S CHRIIIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAAAS!" So yeah.
18. Mike Oldfield - In Dulci Jubilo
    An instrumental one now. Mike Oldfield is best known for Tubular Bells (that's Theme from 'The Exorcist' to you and me) but this one is fantastic too. It's an old old standard but it's reimagined here and made a shade poppier. My gran was very impressed to find that I could play this on piano, more or less by ear. YES I'M AN AWESOME MUSICIAN SHUT UP.
19. Chris Rea - Driving Home For Christmas
    According to Sarah's dad, Chris Rea is "shit hot". Except, presumably, in December, when he's probably rather cold. Lawl. This is my and Soph's song, because we were listening to it in Patsy last year and I misheard one of the lyrics and, well, these mistakes haunt you forever. Who wouldn't want to be "top to toe in Tipp-Ex"?
20. Spice Girls - Christmas Wrapping
    Sarah's blood ran cold when I told her about the Spice Girls rapping. It needn't have. This is good. Not by them originally, but good. Much better than their minimalist version of Sleigh Ride, in which one of the daft bints professes that "you can do anything you want at Christmas, as long as it's good". Oh. Okay.
21. Bach Choir - See Amid The Winter's Snow
    I hope you'll forgive me my love for these churchy choiry Christmas songs. My dad used to be a minister, you see, so I've had a fair bit of exposure to them over the years. I re-discovered this one while busking yesterday, and jeez I love that high bit in the middle.
22. "Weird Al" Yankovic - The Night Santa Went Crazy
    More fan-made video goodness. I've gone with this one over Christmas At Ground Zero, because it's marginally less scary. Marginally.
23. Mogwai - Christmas Steps
    Christmassy in no way bar the title, and it takes a while to get started, but give it time. It's a staple of my Christmas playlists, and lots of fun on Christmas Eve night. I think it's named after some stairs in Glasgow, but ignore that and pretend that those heavy bass notes are meant to represent Santa's footsteps in the hallway downstairs.
24. Chris de Burgh - A Spaceman Came Travelling
    Bill Bailey would have you believe that you're meant to hate Mr. de Burgh, and you might feel dirty for liking this song, but it's okay. If you ignore Lady In Red, Chris de Burgh can actually be pretty rockin'. Don't Pay The Ferryman is one example; this is another, albeit a slightly more relaxed one.
25. Futurama - Elves' Song
    From the Season 3 episode A Tale of Two Santas. This is sung after Bender agrees to take on the role of Santa, and the elves re-open their toy factory. I should point out that in the Futurama-verse, Santa is an evil robot who judges everyone to be naughty and wreaks havoc and destruction every year. But you already knew that.
26. Eels - Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas
    Judging by the video I assume this song was featured in The O.C. It just about beats out the other Eels choice, Christmas Is Going To The Dogs, which was featured in The Grinch but doesn't feature the line "Baby Jesus, born to rock!" and hence isn't as good.
27. Johnny Mathis - When A Child Is Born
    "Bad but brilliant"? Fuck you, The Hits! This is just awesome, mostly because of Mathis' voice but also because of those little flute twinkles in the intro and the spoken word bit in the middle. It could perhaps do without the monologue at the start but in a way that makes it all the more comforting. I think this is one of my gran's favourites.
28. Kay Starr - (Everybody's Waitin' For) The Man With The Bag
    Hadn't heard this swingin' number until last year when my 101 Christmas Songs compilation came along, and then it popped up on one of the adverts I think. One of the more actually Christmassy songs on said compilation, I mean what's the theme from From Russia With Love got to do with anything?
29. Melanie Thornton - Wonderful Dream (Holidays Are Coming)
    The full version of the song from the Coke advert. It's not brilliant but I thought you guys might find it interesting.
30. Bruce Springsteen - Merry Christmas Baby
    Rarely has the Boss been so funky, but I guess Christmas brings these things out of people. "Well Santa come down the chimney/Half three!/With lots of nice little presents for my/Baby and me!" Woohoo.
31. Banjo-Kazooie - Freezeasy Peak
    I personally preferred Banjo-Tooie, with its darker storyline and unsurpassable multi-player mode (better than GoldenEye? Perhaps...), but then again it didn't have this music in any of the levels. Playing on Freezeasy Peak in any month other than December just makes you long for the year to go faster.
32. John Prine - Christmas In Prison
    I discovered this song on a CD that came free with Uncut magazine. Apparently Bob Dylan played it on his radio show. It's a bit country but don't let that put you off, it's a lovely song and it may just bring the smallest tear to your eye, especially if you've ever spent Christmas in prison.
33. Band Aid 20 - Do They Know It's Christmas?
    Most scholars agree that this isn't a patch on the original but hear me out. This was the last Christmas #1 before The X Factor sat on it for four years. It remains the last UK Christmas #1 to actually have anything to do with Christmas. A lot of people were fairly proud of themselves for getting Killing In The Name to the top spot last year, but I reckon we'd have been sending a bigger message had we gone with this. Not only because it was the last Christmas #1 before blah blah blah, but also because we'd be saying to Simon & Friends, "Look, we'd sooner buy this terrible rubbish than your bland factory pop." Although Pete informs me that a bunch of artists have gotten together to re-record 4'33", and buying silence would probably send a bigger message again. But will that have Busted or the drummer from Supergrass? Probably not.
34. Al Green - What Christmas Means To Me
    YouTube seems to favour Stevie Wonder's version but the one I know is by Al Green so I'm going with that. I was just surprised to discover that he didn't just use Christmas as another excuse for gettin' some. He's pure (and a reverend, apparently), not like that dirty Mariah Carey.
35. The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight)
    I think this showed up on a BBC advert last year. I hadn't seen this video before, but I for one always think of a Brooklyn couple yelling at each other when I think of Christmas. And what a heartwarming ending.
36. Frankie Goes To Hollywood - The Power of Love
    Now here's a song that has nothing to do with Christmas. I mean the video would have you believe otherwise, but I'm pretty sure it just came out around Christmas. But yeah, these guys are no better than myriad X-Factor winners in terms of unChristmassy Christmas songs. However it is a good song so I will let them off.
37. The Killers - Don't Shoot Me Santa
    This is Sarah's favourite so I felt I had to include it. I wasn't too familiar with it but I'm listening to it now and it is pretty good. I love the little Brandon Flowers puppet. Apparently The Killers do a Christmas song every year, so good on them.
38. Jim Reeves - Silver Bells
    The first I heard of this song was Moe from The Simpsons singing it as he was put under anaesthetic before plastic surgery. It's lovely and very soothing. A song to have a bath to. At Christmas.
39. Barenaked Ladies feat. Sarah McLachlan - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings
    I was going to put up a choral version of God Rest Ye Merry but then I stumbled upon this and it's cooler. A very nice collision of voices, although it's a shame about the abrupt ending. Mr. Pratt was always sure to make clear that it's God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen, and not, in fact, God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen. The more you know!
40. Low - Just Like Christmas
    Every so often I like to have a quick peek at DrownedInSound.com, and every year there's a thread about 'indie' Christmas songs, and every year somebody mentions Low's Christmas album. After avoiding it for many Christmasses I decided to have a listen to one of the songs off it and, low and behold (sorry), it's quite good! I just can't decide if it's miserable or not. 
41. Thurl Ravenscroft - You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch
    Six stanzas of unflinching character assassination later, I actually feel a little sorry for the Grinch. Bonus points for use of the term "heel", meaning 'villain'; I thought it came from professional wrestling but perhaps not.
42. Twisted Sister - Heavy Metal Christmas
    I was struggling to think of a heavy metal Christmas song so I YouTube searched 'Metal Christmas' and, lo and behold, this popped up. It's another spoof of 12 Days but never mind, it's unashamedly awesomely METAL enough not to matter. I hope I get 8 pentagrams for Christmas. And everyone knows Dee Snyder is a hero.
43. The Jackson 5 - Up On The House Top
    And if you've got a little excess testosterone after that last one, who better to fizzle it out than a prepubescent Michael Jackson? This does have an assfull of funk though, and that is some stone cold DRUMMING in the intro.
44. Dickie Valentine - Christmas Alphabet
    One of the earliest UK Christmas #1s (1955) and seemingly the first one that had all that much to do with Christmas. Sweet enough, but there only seem to be 9 letters in this guy's alphabet, and they're quite severely out of order. Plus two of them are S. Oh, hang on, it spells Christmas. Now I get it.
45. R.E.M. - Christmas Griping
    Okay, I was vaguely aware that R.E.M. gave everyone in their fanclub a special Christmas single around this time of year, but I'd never actually thought to listen to them. "Wouldn't you just love to throttle the person who invented fruit cake?" Oh my goodness. Surreal and hysterical. Love those "boom shaka-laka-laka ho ho ho!"s.
46. The Brute Chorus - (This Christmas) Bury Me In Hawaii
    But we have to remember that Christmas isn't always hilarious. Bringing the second third of our feature to a close, it's a song about hanging yourself. This is another one that Josh showed me, and it's so deliciously creepy, especially with the video. Additionally, check that moustache out! Wah!
47. King's College Choir - Once In Royal David's City
    Usually opens a proper Christmas church service. Sung as the choir files in, with one lucky boy singing the first verse solo. According to Mr. Pratt, nobody knows who the soloist is going to be until the event; apparently the choirmaster or whatever just picks one boy to do it on the spur of the moment. Choirmasters are dicks, it seems.
48. Andy Williams - It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
    Well, it is. You can't deny it. I really like the drumming in this one.
49. Hot Chocolate - Brand New Christmas
    Another one of the 101. I imagine most people know Hot Chocolate for steamy hit You Sexy Thing, but this song - about how "we need another Jesus" - is serious business. Seriously FUNKAY. It's funny because this song sounds more like Frankie Goes To Hollywood than the Frankie Goes To Hollywood Christmas song does.
50. The Pretenders - 2000 Miles
    God help me I do love Chrissie Hynde's voice. That first line is just golden. She can get a bit worked up over the rights of delicious animals, but she's forgiven just for this song and Don't Get Me Wrong.
51. Spitting Image - Santa Claus Is On The Dole
    So we've had robot Santas, Santas gone crazy, and the Nevada desert Santa who wants to kill Brandon Flowers for some reason, but here - for once - is a Santa Claus who isn't a psycho killer. It's a strangely human portrayal, actually, but it's nice to see that he's still jolly, in spite of poverty, elf suicide, and his reindeers being "sold for glue".
52. Wizzard - I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday
    Oh go on then. It's still a good song, despite being second best. Actually, it's not even that - it didn't finish second to Slade in the chart race, it finished fourth. You know who actually came second? Gary Glitter. Fuck's sake Wizzard.
53. Mitch Benn - Thank God It Isn't Christmas Everyday
    And another thing, Wizzard: no, you don't wish it could be Christmas everyday. That would be awful. For reasons outlined here.
54. Manic Street Preachers - Last Christmas
    I've gone for this version over Wham! because James Dean Bradfield has a lovely voice and more people need to be made aware of it. This is pretty haunting actually, some delicious reverb on the louder notes. It is, however, a little grating when he says "stop me from tears" instead of "save me from tears". But that's my only complaint.
55. Chixie Dix - All I Want For Christmas Is To Be Jewish
    At this festive time of year it's important to remember that Christmas isn't the only option. Some people will be lighting Menorah instead of Advent candles, and looking forward to the visit of the Holiday Armadillo instead of Santa, and spinning dreidels instead of all of their money away on too many presents. So here is the tight-fisted Jew stereotype embodied in song form by some guys who are sick of "exchanging gifts that we don't even like". I like the extremely Jewish interjections ("Don't forget the gefilte fish!") but I don't like the slightly uncomfortable shot of a sausage getting circumcised with a cleaver, followed as it is by the leering visage of a pleased-looking Rabbi.
56. Destiny's Child - 8 Days Of Christmas
    Last 12 Days parody, I swear. Not sure why they shortened it to 8 days - 12 is divisible by 4 too, and would have fit the verse structure just fine, maybe they just ran out of lyrics - but it's a fine slice of Yuletide R&B nonetheless. Although it kills me that the "Doesn't it feel like Christmas?" section never resolves into "All the women who independent!"
57. Lisa Hannigan - Silent Night
    This was a hidden track on Damien Rice's first album (Lisa Hannigan being the lady who sang on quite a lot of his songs) and even though the lyrics are somewhat different it still reminds you of Christmas so into the pot it goes. I for one prefer Damien Rice's second album, 9.
58. Hoodoo Gurus - Tojo
    Not particularly Christmassy at first glance, but "Tracey, would you listen? This is Christmas!" gives it away. So yes it does count as a Christmas song, stop asking.
59. Radiohead - Winter Wonderland
    It's anyone's guess as to the origin of this, but I would hesitantly suggest that they probably played this live as some sort of special secret encore after most of the crowd had gone home and Thom Yorke had gotten slightly drunk. "We have been...the Smurfs."
60. The Royal Guardsmen - Snoopy's Christmas
    I've discovered a fair few gems while searching for stuff to fill the gaps in this list. I think this has something to do with The Christmas Truce of 1914 (that's the only time YouTube comments will actually be useful) but where it really scores points with me is with the reference to Snoopy's never-ending dogfight (sorry again) with The Red Baron.
61. Cliff Richard - Mistletoe & Wine
    I was torn between this and Saviour's Day, but in the end I decided that they were pretty much interchangeable and just flipped a coin.
62. Animaniacs - Noel
    Another churchy one, but I decided that I didn't want to give King's College Choir even more free exposure, so here is the 'terrible pun' version of this old favourite.
63. The Vandals - Oi! To The World
    It's a football hooligan Christmas! This was thrown up when I googled "punk christmas songs", and I was so surprised that it wasn't just a half-arsed parody of Joy To The World that I thought I'd bung it in. No Doubt seem to have covered it, but stick with the original; academics agree that "oi" and "pub" are words that Gwen Stefani really just ought to leave alone.
64. David Bowie & Bing Crosby - Little Drummer Boy
    Or "Carol of the Drum" as us brass band types know it. This is a lovely video, Bing Crosby seems so goshdarned nice. And David Bowie so goshdarned cockney.
65. John Lennon - Happy Xmas (War Is Over)
    Seems to appear as the opening track on pretty much every compilation it graces so I've left it 'til late in the list because I'm pretty anti-establishment like that. A lovely song, and for a long time the only John Lennon number I'd heard (why was Imagine so late to the party? Who knows.) but Christ alive think twice before you watch the video. Sobering stuff.
66. Bo Selecta - Proper Crimbo
    I'm guessing there's probably not much of a serious, anti-war message behind this one. Sarah suggested I include it, and I'd much rather listen to this than something featuring the real Craig David.
67. Frank Sinatra - Have Yourself A Merry Christmas
    Probably the only Christmas song that can reduce me to a sobbing wreck, and I suspect the power of the line about "faithful friends" to bring a tear to my eye will only increase what with everyone going to uni and such.
68. King's College Choir - O Come All Ye Faithful
    Oh fine, one more appearance from Da KC Kroo. Usually sang at the end of December church services, with more and more verses being sung every Sunday until, eventually, the whole thing gets an airing on the 25th. And of course it's impossible for those of a brass band and/or choir background - sorry to keep banging on about this sort of thing but it's my list, if you want to talk about Wizzard some more we'll do it on your blog - to imagine this song without the descant (high bit) at around the 2 minute mark.
69. Queen - Thank God It's Christmas
    And FINALLY! A golden number from Freddie Mercury and co. that, as far as I'm concerned, has to round off every Christmas playlist. Although having said that, it's probably best if you listen to it once a year, just before you go to bed on December 25th.

Well it's taken me three days or so to complete this so you'd best have all enjoyed at least a few of these songs. Hopefully I've covered most of the obvious Yule-musical bases but if I've missed out your favourite then do let me know and maybe I'll explain why your favourite's so crap.

Merry Christmas,
Joel.

*All the Biffy Clyro talk led to me having a dream about them. I was walking to uni one morning and, as I passed the CIA, I noticed that Biffy Clyro were doing a signing thing for their fans. I decided to try and get something signed for Cliffey, big fan that he is, but when I approached the table and handed a flyer to one of the band (they all looked like the beardy lead singer because he's the only one I know) he simply handed it back to me unsigned. Subsequent attempts were unsuccessful and I eventually left empty-handed. So fuck you, dream Biff!

Core Eight Reunion

First of all I apologise for the past few days; I've had trouble getting to a computer since the new PC decided it wouldn't turn on. Sarah's dad has been here this evening to help us out, and he's given us another of his myriad 'puters to tide us over until he's fixed the first one. So that's where this one is coming from.

Sarah and I went to my parents' house yesterday to help decorate the tree, and upon our return we were greeted by the meaty muttonchops of JR.

And there was much rejoicing. For the first time since October, the Core Eight were all in one place. And we celebrated with...

...a game of Tell Me. Naturally. And it was somehow even more shouty than usual, with many, many quarrels over things like the origin of The Neverending Story and whether or not soap is a luxury.

And now JR's gone again. Hopefully he'll be back soon; we never did manage to replace him.

Joel.

Movember

And so the hairiest month of the year has come to a close and I've gone back to my baby-faced normal. Unfortunately, due to the burglary, we don't have a 'before' shot and we've no means of taking an 'after' - I know JR's been doing near-daily updates but I maintain that my daily progress would not have been worth following - but to give you an idea here is a photo of a baby to represent my facial hair situation on the 1st of Movember:

And here is the same picture with my facial hair as of the 31st drawn on in MS Paint:

Actually that's probably a bit more than I had. But the point is it's gone now, so hurrah!

In other news, Sarah's dad has donated one of his many PCs to our cause...tonight's blog might have been being typed on it, but while trying to make the CD drive function, Cliffey managed to disable the whole thing. Have no fear though, Mr. Macleod will be here soon to save us all.

Tomorrow: cricket jibes!

Joel.

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 6)

Part 5 is here.

Cliffey was aghast. This was not the magical, dreamlike Joel Fields he had always imagined.

Nor was it the overgrown, abandoned Joel Fields that Goldberg had suggested.

This was a desolate wasteland. No life at all. Just dry, dusty, decrepit, doomed desolation as far as the eye could see.

No grass.

No dandelions.

But thankfully, no monster either.

Really, the only thing there at all was a decaying wooden sign that probably once said 'Welcome to Joel Fields!' but now just said "We come t   o l  ie  s!"

"They should be here by now," said Goldberg, thinking aloud and sounding rather concerned. "I mean they've been walking all afternoon, right?"

Cliffey nodded, his mouth still hanging open.

Just then, a huge shadow fell upon them. There was a flutter of giant wings.

They looked up, and the biggest crow they'd ever seen swooped down to greet them.

And on its back were Sarah and Pete.

"You're okay!" cried Cliffey as he hugged them tightly. "I was so worried!"

But as relieved as Sarah was to see Cliffey again, she simply could not contain her disappointment.

"I thought you were taking us to Joel Fields?" she said, wrestling free of Cliffey's embrace and turning on the crow.

"And so I have."

Sarah went on looking at him, waiting for the punchline.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

"Sarah," interrupted Goldberg, "This is it. This is all that's left of Joel Fields now."

No, thought Sarah. This couldn't be Joel Fields! Where were the green grass and dandy dandelions? Where were the dreams and visions she'd had for as long as she could remember?

Where was Heaven?

"This...isn't it. We're not there yet."

Cliffey and Goldberg explained everything. They took it in turns. The history, the monster, his teeth, the hundreds of goats that were eaten, the fact that nobody knew where he was now. The lot.

And when they were finished, nobody said anything for a long time. Sarah was silent, trying as best she could to take this all in. Cliffey and Goldberg were silent, wondering if they could go home now. The great crow stood, silent, surveying this whole saddening scene. Pete-

Where was Pete?

* * *

Pete was pleased to see Cliffey too. He had both of his goat friends together again. But he didn't care to hear the story that Cliffey and Goldberg were telling.

He already knew it all.

So while they were filling Sarah in, he wandered off. In search of a monster.

Pete allowed himself a little smirk. Everything was suddenly going according to plan.

TO BE CONTINUED

We Was Robbed

It seems that when, in the last blog, I said "tomorrow", I meant 'Monday', and when I said "cricket jibes", I meant 'news of a burglary'.

I'm typing this on Cliffey's laptop because mine has been stolen, along with Sarah's camera, my mum's laptop, and Sarah's phone charger. They almost took my phone charger as well, but they must have changed their minds at the last minute because we found it hanging off the clotheshorse in the hallway.

So my dad took me to the police station and they sent their man 'round to see what was what. He took a statement and told me that someone from the CID would come to investigate. Sure enough, another boy in blue arrived this morning to take my prints and dust for the prints of others. Whoever did it left their glove behind - I was tempted to ask on my Facebook status if anyone had lost one - so that's a lead at least.

On the plus side we did win the pub quiz at the George last night; our prize was a 24 crate of Foster's but I'm more interested in the Indian for two. I traded my share of the beer for that voucher, so all cries of alcoholism can desist now please.

Also I've suddenly become amazing at WWF No Mercy, which is heartening.

Joel.

P.S. Tomorrow - cricket jibes!

P.P.S. Actually tomorrow is Part 6 of The Goats so you'll have to wait 'til Wednesday for the cricket jibes.

Los Veinticincos

Los Veinticincos (Spanish for "The Twenty-Fives") are a fearsome group of exemplary evildoers, feared the world over for their cold-blooded murderousness and the fact that their name is in a foreign language. Would-be members of this deadly crew must fulfill three requirements:

1. Your birthday must fall on the 25th of November. Falling as it does exactly one month before Christmas, we know it to be the most evil day of the year. Some simple minds assume October 31st to be The Devil's birthday; in actuality, it is November 25th.
2. You must be at least 20 years old; we don't want any teenagers ruining our evil plans, what with their moodswings and tendency to rebel against authority.
3. You must be PURE EVIL.

Yesterday was the 25th of November and, as I'm sure you're all aware, Peter Murphy spent the day celebrating his 20th birthday. He's been Evil Director of Doooom for years now and it looks like he's set to step into the world of elite evil. Assuming he makes it through their torturous initiation ritual*, here are some of the people he'll be joining:

NAME: Mark Lanegan

PROFESSION: Screaming Tree
BORN: 25th November, 1964

Mark Lanegan is a musician, best known as vocalist of the Screaming Trees. He joined Los Veinticincos in 1984, and it wasn't long before he was elected leader on the grounds of "looking the most evil". I mean look at that picture! He looks like the bastard son of Nicky Wire and The Joker. Those who have heard him speak say that his voice is "so gravelly you could park a car on it". Legend has it that he named his band after a rather grisly incident where he actually planted a tree inside one of his enemies and it emerged a couple of years later from the unfortunate young man's shrieking mouth.

NAME: Xabi Alonso
PROFESSION: Cheating Footballer
BORN: 25th November, 1981

Xabi Alonso has been in the news recently because of allegations that he deliberately picked up a second yellow card to ensure a clean slate in the knockout stages of the Champions League. Not the most stealthy member of the gang, what with all this media attention he's been getting, but this whole story has shown us that his evil time-wasting skills are second to none. His other crimes including playing for Liverpool but then leaving, and being Spanish. 'Spain' is just one letter away from 'pain', don't you know.

NAME: Christina Applegate
PROFESSION: Smelly Pirate Hooker
BORN: 25th November, 1971

Christina Applegate is Los V's beautiful but deadly femme fatale. She spent her childhood amongst thieves and murderers on the infamous pirate ship Veronica, and this is the name by which many of her victims know her before she kills them (all sensible killers operate under a pseudonym, of course). She was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, and she is now out for revenge on the executives who cancelled her TV show while she was recovering. They may soon find themselves on the wrong end of her weapon of choice, which is, ironically, a TV antenna.

NAME: Bruno Tonioli
PROFESSION: Flamboyant Dance Judge
BORN: 25th November, 1955

As a homosexual, Italian lunatic Bruno Tonioli was a prime target for bullying in his childhood. In an article on the Daily Express website, he talks about how he was once "chased...out of a club with a broken bottle and pinned...up against a wall." The interview would have you believe that he got out of it with "a bit of wit and imagination". The reality is he snatched the bottle right out of that guy's hand and cut him to ribbons. That was his first taste of blood, and he liked it. To his credit, unhinged as he is, the evillest thing he tends to do nowadays is annoy Len Goodman on Strictly Come Dancing. But who knows when he might snap?

NAME: Barbara & Jenna Bush
PROFESSION: Twin Daughters of Ex-President
BORN: 25th November, 1981

They're the offspring of George W. Bush. Need we say more? The Bush sisters are also the only documented case of both twins being evil. Joined Los V's on the same day as Xabi Alonso, leading to some rather nauseating erotic fanfiction about the three of them.

NAME: Mary Anne Schimmelpenninck

PROFESSION: Mischief-Maker
BORN: 25th November, 1778

I know what you're thinking, who? Well, at the ripe old age of 232, Schimmelpenninck is Los V's oldest member, and one of its craftiest. She is the daughter of an arms dealer and, as her Wikipedia page will tell you, her family considered her a "mischief-maker" who "broke off eleven marriages". But while it's true that she showed slightly unsavoury tendencies in life, she never really went fully evil until after her death in 1856. It's a lot easier to do evil shit when you're a ghost, and you'd be amazed at some of the things she's gotten up to since she kicked the bucket. Whenever a TV programme suffers from 'technical difficulties', it's because she's messing around with their equipment. In 1931, which you'll remember as the year Christmas never came, it was because she stole it. Some people suspect that she is responsible for the whole Bermuda Triangle thing; others say that hiccups are caused by Mary Anne playing tricks on your diaphragm. And she's still responsible for a healthy chunk of worldwide divorces every year. We may never know the full extent of her powers, and that makes her perhaps the scariest 25er of all.

NAME: Kerry "Skull" O'Keeffe

PROFESSION: Australian Cricket Commentator

BORN: 25th November, 1949

Well first of all look at his nickname. If that don't strike fear into your heart, then you're a steelier soul than I. Time was when he could hide his passion for breaking legs behind cricket, a sport nobody really understood anyway. "And O'Keeffe has broken the other guy's leg...erm...does he get a point for that, Bruce?" "Why yes Bruce I believe he does." But now he resides in the commentary box, and he has to find other outlets for his creativity. Enter Los Veinticincos, who were reportedly in need of a good leg man at the time to deal with their numerous debtors. Of course, he is no gentle soul when he's commentating, either; apparently other commentators are afraid to work alongside him. They're probably worried that he'll hit them for six! Ha!

It's funny because it has something to do with cricket. Incidentally, Kerry O'Keeffe's wife is named Veronica, so Pete might be called upon to do some legwork pretty soon if you catch my drift.

More cricket jibes tomorrow.

Joel.

*Nobody on the outside is completely certain of what goes on during initiation, but most academics agree that it involves geese.

Games People Play

We in the house have recently discovered the mighty awesomeness that is the Tell Me Quiz! The idea is that players have to name something that belongs in a particular category and begins with a certain letter. For example:

Tell me something you wear on your head beginning with F.

'Fedora' would be an acceptable answer; 'Fop Hat' definitely would not, PETE.

We have also been playing the Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? game, which is fantastic also. It's even more fantastic - and tense - when played with all the appropriate music and soundbites. I'm not great at it though.

I'm also not great at No Mercy so I'm actually practicing in between writing the blog. Tom beat me twice the other day, and he'd never even played it before. Fuck's sake.

Joel.

The Milkshakes of Bristol

Milkshake #1 - Strawberry Milkshake from YoYo

YoYo is a "gourmet hamburger bar" that Josh and Mark took me to after the Titus Andronicus gig. I had a rather delicious wild boar burger, but I could have had anything from kangaroo to springbok. I could even have had ostrich but I don't see any reason to make those buggers any angrier.

Titus Andronicus were fantastifabulous, as expected, but I had perhaps a little too much fun shouting along to them. I went up to Patrick "Beardy Vocalist" Stickles after the show and told him, as best I could, that my vocal chords [points at throat] were fucked [slicing motion] but that was AMAZING [thumbs up]! Josh had to order for me at YoYo because I pretty much couldn't talk after the gig, but their thick, fast-foody strawberry milkshake did go some way to soothing my corroded throat. So I'm grateful to them for that.

Josh spoke to Patrick too. He asked if he could get his hands on the setlist but had to make do with a guitar pick instead.

Interlude - His Milkshake Brings All the Girls to the Yard

We stayed the night at Rob's flat, Rob being a friend of Mark's who goes to uni in Bristol. He very kindly let me have his bed for the night; I think I was supposed to be sharing it with Josh but he seemed happy to kip on the floor. His days of sharing beds with men are all but over.

Milkshake #2 - Coconut Milkshake from AMT

I could have had a lie-in on Saturday morning. Herbie was driving Mark and Josh back home in the afternoon and there was a free space in her car with my name on it but no, I'd already paid £7 for the 9.54 train to Cardiff Central so up I got at some ungodly hour and trudged to Bristol Temple Meads in the rain.

My breakfast consisted of an apple from Tesco and a coconut milkshake from AMT, one of those train station coffee bars. It was a very nice milkshake but the purchase was kind of a dick move on my part; what with it being November and all, it was pretty cold out, and the milkshake was also pretty cold, and, well, it's just plain mathematics:

Pretty Cold² = Real F'in Cold

On the train this time I was sat alongside a table of middle-aged women eating brioche and drinking some sort of orange drink from plastic wine glasses so that was all very civilised. I was reading the Kick Ass comic which is so violent it makes Kill Bill look like Dora The Explorer but still, very civilised indeed.

Epilogue - Hot Chocolate & Malibu

On Saturday night, Sarah bought me a bottle of Mailbu and, just for the sake of experiment, I got quietly drunk. The initial plan was to mix it with Pepsi, but Pepsi's so detestably foul that after one glass I just started doing shots. Sarah now now holds the honour of being the only person ever to see me drunk; the rest of you will just have to use your imaginations. Apparently I'm quite funny.

There's still about half a bottle of Malibu left, by the way. According to my mum it goes quite nicely with drinking chocolate so I will probably try that sometime soon. That suits me a lot better than shots.

Joel.

P.S. Keep an ear out for Angry Christmas, the new song that Josh and/or myself may or may not be working on.

James Blunt has a new album out!

Oh no! Best familiarise yourself with the video so that you know what to do in an emergency.

The album's called "Some Kind of Trouble" and he seems to have gotten sneaky this time because his face isn't on the cover. This is presumably an attempt to trick the more foolish of us into buying it in the mistaken belief that it's, I don't know, a mis-printed Dinosaur Jr. B-sides compilation? So to make sure you're ahead of the game, keep an eye out for this image:

If you see it at your local music store, the generally accepted protocol is to cover the album with another album by a better artist. Blur, Blondie and the B-52s are all popular choices due to their alphabetical proximity, but don't be afraid to get creative! There's nothing more fun than the thought of a James Blunt fan scouring HMV for their idol's new masterpiece, working their way from B to Bl to Blu, only to be greeted by a Cannibal Corpse album.

There's already been debate in the house as to whether we should be so afraid of James Blunt or if, on the contrary, we owe him our props because he prevented World War III. I'm sure you've all worked out where I stand by this point, so if you are a fan then feel free to ignore this warning, buy the album, even go and see him live at St. David's Hall on February the 24th if you're that into him. If you think my disdain for the Bluntster is totally unfounded, then by all means hit Hell No! and never read the blog again.

As for the rest of you, here is a song I have written in the style of James Blunt. It's called:

Watching Over Me

Who can say?

Who can say when will come the day,

When everything that we know changes?

I loved you,

I loved you and you loved me too,

But you could never see this through.

And the day it died,

Well of course I cried,

But I won't stay down,

I won't come untied,

There's still hope, you'll see,

You'll come back to me,

There's an angel watching over me,

There's an angel watching over me,

Oh, oh.

There's a chance,

There's a chance that it could all go back,

To the way it was before I lacked.

Do you hear?

Do you hear my song in your bed at night?

Do you wish somehow it could be alright?

And the day it died,

Well of course I cried,

But I won't stay down,

I won't come untied,

There's still hope, you'll see,

You'll come back to me,

There's an angel watching over me,

There's an angel watching over me,

Oh, oh.

Is it true?

Is it true that I could be with you,

'Cause it all seems lost, so can love come through?

And the day it died,

Well of course I cried,

But I won't stay down,

I won't come untied,

There's still hope, you'll see,

You'll come back to me,

So I'll close my eyes,

And I'll count to three,

I took up my cares,

With The Man Upstairs,

And he said that he would make repairs,

Did I make mistakes?

Did you make them too?

Are there angels watching over you?

And if it's all over,

Will they get you through?

* * *

So there we are. James Blunt.

Joel.

P.S. As wrong as it seems to even mention them in the same blog post as James Blunt, Titus Andronicus are an excellent band for whose live show I am going all the way to Bristol tomorrow. I am about 7/10 excited right but I expect this to climb rapidly over the next 24 hours.

A Blog To Clear The Fog

Holy fog. I walked to uni this morning - my bike chain's still off but I wouldn't have wanted to cycle in those conditions anyway - and I decided to go past CAI and Cathays station rather than down Richmond Road like I usually do. It was a lot more fun than I expected to have in the cold on my way to a 9am lecture, because of course all the Cardiff people were making their way to their 9am lectures too. The result was a vast army of students marching resolutely through the fog - and yes, I too thought it odd that everyone was in step with each other, but there it was. It made a very satisfying noise, all those feet stamping on the frosty pavement.

So last night everyone went to town. Except me, and Sarah, 'cause we stayed in and polished off the Eureka boxset. And Josh, because he came 'round to pick up some CDs and admire the Pink Floyd poster that Sarah had very kindly bought me.And Pete, 'cause town's not really his scene. And Tom, who did come to the house, but only after everyone else had left.

At some point yesterday evening I answered a phone call from Soph's mum, Lynda. The conversation went more or less as follows:

"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"...Is that Soph?"
"No, it's her mum."
"Oh I'm sorry. You sound a lot like her."
"I don't look like her, I'll tell you that. Is she around?"
"No, she's gone out."
"Where?"
"Into town."
"Has she gone to Oceana?"
"I'm not sure."
"Did Alex go with her?"
"No, I think Al went home."
"Did...um, what's his name, my favourite boy..."
"...Cliffey?"
"Cliffey! That's it!"
"Yeah, he went."
"Oh good, he'll look after her."

As it turned out, I think Cliffey ended up coming home early. Soph is probably okay but I've not seen her today, so everyone please keep an eye out just in case she's just wondering around somewhere.

Also present at some point last night was Gem's friend Mike (not to be confused with Meic), whom I've never met but I'm getting to know what his voice sounds like through a wall pretty well.

Joel.

What I Did On My Reading Week

Not a whole lot of reading, I have to say. The one book I have had a look at is Straw Dogs, and that's a philosophy book so it's more the sort of thing Cliffey should be reading.

I did play No Mercy an awful lot, and I think I'm getting worse (Sarah beat me earlier today, and she'd never played it before).

I also ate a lot of lovely food (Special K with chocolate and red berries is FANTASTIC), and watched a lot of A Town Called Eureka. We're nearly at the end of season two now and it's getting very interesting.

But yes, not so much reading. Tomorrow my group and I have to present our research proposal to the class, so we hurriedly knocked one together earlier today. It's still going to be awesome though, so don't worry.

Joel.

Your Daddy's Car

I don't think I made a note of it at the time so I'll mention it now: Xander, Cliffey's car, passed on to the Great Tesco Car Park in the Sky. Some time ago, actually. If you didn't already know this, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I told Cliffey to mention it on The Xander Appreciation Society's Facebook page, but I don't think he did. It's a sad state of affairs - he should be able to get a new car with the insurance money, but it obviously won't be the same. And there's always a hint of tragedy in his voice when he says he's going to get the bus to work.

So rest in peace, Xander. You were one of my favourite places to listen to the Klezmer Kollectiv.

Why do I bring this up now, I hear you ask between your heaving sobs? Because we made a trip to big Tesco's last night in a different car, and it was an unmitigated disaster.

Well, that might be a little strong. But I'm sure it would have gone better in Xander.

Sarah, Josh and I had just seen LCD Soundsystem and Hot Chip at the CIA (a real slayer of a gig, I might add, particularly All My Friends), and had come back to a house with Tom in it. An average Friday night. Once I had recovered from a) the gig, and b) the walk home, Cliffey and I turned on the N64 and did another Royal Rumble on No Mercy. I won with Kane - Cliffey's really not very good at Royal Rumbles - and was all ready to call it a night when the decision was made to head to Tesco's for a late night shop.

So we piled into Tom's car (which I think is called Shaniqua) - me, Sarah, Soph, Cliffey, and of course Tom - and set off. Pete wanted to come to, offering to ride in the boot, but we decided that was a bad plan and, given what followed, that was probably a good shout.

We were somewhere near Roath Lake, getting our collective groove on to my Destiny's Child album, when suddenly Tom shut the music off and pulled over. I initially protested at this abrupt silence, but soon shut up when I realise that we'd been pulled over by the police.

The blue lights echoed in the rear window. We sat silently and waited for judgement.

Turns out Tom had just forgotten to look before going across a junction or something. The fuzz were soon on their way again, but it was a nerve-jangling experience while it lasted. The police have never seemed scarier*, what with their uniforms and their questions and the fact that it's kind of hard to see their faces when you're in the back seat and they're standing outside the driver's window.

Of course, the fear was somewhat nullified when we saw another policewoman, in full uniform, trying to choose between fried eggs and hot lips at the pick 'n' mix in Tesco. A fun moment.

Tom, probably still a little shook up from the police incident, drew further criticism at the self-service checkouts. One of the shop assistants apparently told him:

"Hurry up, I know what you kids are like."

Charming. The expedition wasn't a total cropping fail - I did get a nice loaf of tiger bread, and we discovered the existence of the Yumberry, which is cool - but as I say, it probably would have gone better in Xander.

Joel.

*To me, anyway; I think everyone else in that car was fairly certain that we weren't going to get arrested. I just have a slightly over-active imagination, and am extremely naive.

Cliffé Noir

Ugh. I feel like some dumb mick's been doing a riverdance on my brain. It's too bright in here, doesn't this bastard have any curtains? Might as well be in the goddamn dentist's chair. I could use a good hard drilling to take my mind off this headache.

I've got a message from my associate back in Cardiff. He's been running a couple errands for me, sorting out some paperwork and running it down to the office for me. Looks like he's got it all done, so that's something. He's asking me if I want to go see the Christmas lights get switched on tomorrow night. Yeah, as if I need to see any more lights.

What the hell am I even doing here? Everyone here in York is either too Northern or not Northern enough, it's hard to know where you stand. I mean, I'm here to see JR, but the journey up here took a fucking age and all that Holland-haired potato fetishist ever did anyway was beat me at Risk.

At least last night was entertaining. I for one stilll have enough alcohol in me to knock out a pitbull. And for someone who's so good at Risk, JR sure knows his way around a woman. And neither him nor that doll last night thought that was gonna last. He's got this catch-and-release technique going for him. Just does it for the pleasure. It's less cruel, really. Ain't no trout wants to be thrown in the keep basket.

I need something to eat. I've got to get some food. My stomach's growling like a rusty Ford making its last slow journey before being set alight and abandoned in a kids' playground. Check the cupboards, JR's gotta have some bread or biscuits or somethin'.

But no. Just goddamn fucking potatoes.

"JR! You asshole!"
"What?"
"Where's your food?"
"Mmf...try the cupboards..."
"Yeah, I did. All you got is potatoes. Where's your real food? Don't tell I gotta find my way to a McDonald's at this hour."
"Fuck you, Cliffey. I've got the hangover from Hades here, and all you can do is whine about food. Fuck you."

No way am I going to make it outside. My legs already feel like two individual waterbeds. I'm gonna lay back down on the couch and try to imagine that I've just eaten. Pork sausages. Plump. Toffee apple glaze. A heap of mashed potato the size of Austria...no. No good. A poor man doesn't get richer by sticking his fist in his pocket and pretending it's a wallet full of hundred-dollar bills, and I'm not gonna get full from a picture in my aching head.

"Aaaaaagh!"

Hurf. If JR's hangover was half as bad as mine, he wouldn't be screaming so loudly. I think I'll tell him so.

"JR, if your-"
"Fuckfuckfuck."
"What the hell is it?"
"Cliffey, get in here."

In JR's room is a corpse, no head, broken, bloodied, twisted, tortured.

"Is this yours?"

JR is freaking out. Obviously he's not used to this sort of thing.

"There there. Come through to the kitchen, I'll make you some hash browns, that'll calm you down."
"Cliffey, there is a dead body in my room."
"Yes. There is a dead body in your room."
"Well...what the hell's it doing there? How did it get there?"

Well, shit. This is exactly the sort of thing I came here to get away from.

* * *

[DISCLAIMER: This is all pure fiction, of course; while I'm not entirely sure of what went on during Cliffey's visit to York, I think we can be fairly certain that JR did not find a decapitated corpse in his room. Also, Cliffey is not a hardboiled detective, and JR isn't the ruthless womaniser I make him out to be here. He is a potato fetishist, though. That's the stone cold truth. - Joel]

Zednik's Slice

Someone took No Mercy out of the N64 last night to play Goldeneye. Meic was 'round, so I'm guessing it was him and Pete. Pete's probably practicing up so that JR doesn't totally dominate him again when he comes home for Christmas. Not that that won't still happen.

Speaking of JR, Cliffey has been away for the past few days because he's gone to visit his life partner in York. I received a text from The Big C himself last night informing me that JR has earned a man point, although details were not forthcoming. More on that as it develops - Cliffey's back tonight so he should have a lot of oop north tales with which to regale us.

The Christmas lights go on in town tonight (I know, it gets earlier every year), and it looks like Sarah and I will be heading in to watch, although I'm probably more excited about the pancakes and bratwurst than Matt Smith and the ferris wheel. I think Sarah's plotting to get me on the ice rink before winter ends, and I'm already trying to work out how I can fall over in such a way that I avoid getting my head sliced off by the most ice-skates.

Don't laugh. It's almost happened at least once. Yeah.

Joel.

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 5)

Part 4 is here.

The forest between Gemma Meadows and Joel Fields was hard enough to navigate in broad daylight, but at night it was practically impossible. Sarah and Pete were still trying to forge ahead, but it was so dark that they could well have been going in circles since teatime.

"Pete," Sarah said finally. "I'm getting too tired to walk, and we're never going to get anywhere in the dark anyway. Let's find a place to sleep."

"And where might that be?" Pete snapped. "Did you see a bed and breakfast just through that last clump of trees? Or perhaps some sort of goat hostel?"

"Oh, shut up, Pete."

"I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. I always thought that Joel Fields was just a stone's throw away."

There was a rustling in the leaves ahead. The two goats whirled around to see two fiery red eyes staring down at them from a nearby tree.

"You shouldn't throw stones...when you're in a glass house..."

* * *

Goldberg and Cliffey were both well aware of the troll bridge.

For Goldberg, it was a nuisance. Whenever he wanted to make a trip into town, he had to time his journey so that the troll was asleep when he went over the bridge.

For Cliffey, of course, it was much more terrifying. It was only an afternoon since he had narrowly escaped death by the troll's terrible claws.

But either way, they knew that there should be something under that bridge.

"...Perhaps he just...left?" said Goldberg, hopefully.

"Perhaps," said Cliffey. But he didn't sound like he really thought so.

* * *

Sarah and Pete were too scared to run. Those evil ruby eyes went on staring at them, seeing into their souls.

"Silence is golden," croaked the voice from the tree again. "But my eyes still see!"

And with that, the biggest crow they'd ever seen swooped down to greet them.

They still couldn't move.

It landed just a few feet in front of them. It stood there on the path, still staring at them.

They said nothing.

Suddenly, the great crow spoke, much louder than before.

"Speak!" he boomed. "And I shall listen."

It was Sarah who finally stepped forward, full of fear.

"We...we're going to Joel Fields." She waited for a reply, but the crow just stared at her. She nodded, and went on, a little more confidently this time. "We're going to Joel Fields, where the grass is twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy but we're lost. Can you help?"

The crow didn't say anything for a long time. Sarah was wondering if he'd heard when she suddenly realised that he was whispering something. All she heard was something about good intentions.

"I beg your pardon?" she trembled, now more nervous again.

The crow sighed and shook his head. "Hop on," he said, sticking out his mighty wings.

The goats hesitated.

"Do we trust him?" Pete wondered aloud.

Sarah was about to set about weighing up the pros and cons of hitching a ride on this gigantic bird, coming to a logical decision, but before she could open her mouth they heard the roar of the troll behind them. So instead of a logical decision, all that came out of her mouth was a scream.

Quick as a flash, they scrambled onto the crow's back, and as soon as they were on, he took flight. Below them, they saw the troll emerge into the clearing, looking angrier and more grotesque than ever.

Both Sarah and Pete breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good thing we didn't stop for a nap," said Pete.

"Shut up, Pete."

TO BE CONTINUED

Blackberry, Slowberry

I started yesterday morning on a sofabed in Swanbridge. My headphone cable was wrapped around me - I had fallen asleep listening to the latest Interpol album - so I pulled it off, wound it up, and got up to greet the new day.

It was a wonderfully brisk autumn morning, so Sarah and I went out to pick blackberries. 'Cause that's what you do on Autumn days in the countryside (Swanbridge isn't exactly the countryside but it's a helluva lot closer than Cardiff), you pick blackberries.

Assuming there are some left. It seemed that someone had beaten us to it, 'cause most of the blackberries were either dead or not there. Sarah sadly suggesested that our search would have been a lot more fruitful  had we done it last week.

Fortunately, the people who had been at the blackberry bushes before us weren't gigantic freaks like I am. My tall stature and massive arms meant that we could access the high up and far away blackberries, and boy did I feel heroic when I jumped up to pull those berry-laden branches down to a harvestable height.

When we returned to Sarah's house, our hands were purple with blackberry juice and our tupperware box was about one-third full of blackberries. We'd also thrown a couple of blueberries into the mix; we weren't expecting to find them in Penarth in November but, heyho, it's all delicious.

Our intention was to bake an apple and blackberry crumble (Sarah already had some apples, we didn't pick those), and it was only when the assorted fruits were stewing in a saucepan that Sarah's dad pointed out that our blueberries...might not be blueberries. I had squished one of them earlier (just for fun) and was surprised to find a pip inside, but I decided that this must be a wild blueberry thing, and that I had been corrupted by my over-exposure to store-bought blueberries. How harsh and cruel nature truly is, I pondered.

But Sarah's dad said that they were foul-tasting slowberries, and although I hadn't heard of them then and can't find any evidence of their existence on Wikipedia now, they certainly didn't taste like blueberries so I'm inclined to believe him. Sarah's sister, who as the house's culinary whiz was helping Sarah and me overcome our kitchen clubfeet, removed as many as she could from the pot, but there were still quite a few pips to be found in the finished product.

Which was delicious anyway. Even Sarah liked it, and Sarah doesn't really like crumble. We just treated the pips like the silver sixpence in the Christmas pudding. Except there were loads of them.

When we came back to Cardiff in the evening, I found yet another empty Pot Noodle pot in the living room. Frustrated at Pete's repeated inability to use a bin, I decided to take action. I washed the pot out just enough that the remaining juices wouldn't go everywhere, placed a sticky note on the bottom reading "FUCK YOUR SHIT!", and hung it off the latch on Pete's door.

I felt pretty righteous until Pete got home from the pub quiz and pointed out that this particular Pot Noodle had been Soph's, not his. How embarrassing.

It's now on Soph's door instead.

Joel.

Joel Is From The 90s

On Friday I arrived home from uni to find a small, thoroughly wrapped parcel on my bed. I was damp and pissed off, because it was raining and I had just spent 35 minutes of my precious lifespan at a bus stop (I'm guessing there was some sort of cocktail party in Blimbo), but the arrival of said parcel cheered me up no end. Also I had just been to Cadawalder's with Sarah and we had eaten a chocolate muffin ice cream sundae thing each so I had a little extra cheer anyway. That is to say:

   2 Good things (Muffin Sundae + Parcel Arrival)
 - 1 Bad thing (Waiting Ages In The Rain For A Bus)
 = 1 Good thing

By the by, if anyone uses the term "muffin sundae" as a euphemism for something dirty, I'll sue them. But yes, this somewhat overly wrapped thing turned out, as I had suspected, to be the N64 game I had ordered from eBay some days previously. And if there's one thing more fun than playing WWF No Mercy as a ten-year old child, it's playing WWF No Mercy as an almost-not-even-a-teenager-anymore grownup, because you get the added bonus of nostalgia.

I of course grabbed the N64 from Cliffey's and started failing to challenge the Light Heavyweight championship with Edge straight away. Cliffey soon joined in and we had a Royal Rumble. I won with Shane McMahon. Cliffey was utterly humiliated.

At any rate, it turned out that Friday was Bonfire Night, so I eventually managed to tear myself away from the old-skool federation antics and go to the Co-Op, where I bought some glorious toffee apple sausages and did a baked potato to go with them. I care little for fireworks, but I am really rather keen on food, so I made sure to do it right. Pete and Alex and some of Alex's friends did actually let off some fireworks in the alley, but Sarah and I were perfectly content to watch - and listen - from our room. Josh and I had been to a music quiz the previous night (we came last, damn picture round, damn Boy George and Adam Ant looking a lot more like bald mental patients than they used to) and the indoor fireworks that had rounded that off were quite underwhelming enough for me, thank you.

Joel.

P.S. Upon my return from the music quiz at Y Fuwch Goch, Sarah, Soph, Cliffey and I sat in the living room catching up on quiz shows for a couple of hours. I think I got a couple of the questions on University Challenge right but what I'm most proud of is spotting that Grass, Dragon, Poison and Fighting were all types of Pokémon on Only Connect. A huge moment I'm sure you'll agree.

These Conversations Did Not Take Place

But They Might Have.

* * *

Joel: You know what was a great song?
Cliffey: What?
Joel: The theme tune from Mummies Alive!
Cliffey: I...can't say I remember that.
Joel: Well you suck.

* * *

Gem: Dammit! Who the hell eats curry out of a glass, anyway?

* * *

Pete: Who wants to come to the shop with me?
Joel: No thanks Pete, I'm not wearing a shirt.
Pete: Sarah?
Sarah: You are a dick!

* * *

Soph: They're all animals!
Man on Only Connect: They're all brands of hand dryer.
Lady from Only Connect: That...is...correct!
Soph: Moh.

* * *

Tom: Oh it's a chance!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: Has to score!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: YEEEEEEEES! Slotted!
Cliffey: Shit!
Joel: Cliffey, that was your fault.

* * *

Soph: Check out the gloves I stole from work!
Pete: Those are some pretty sweet gloves, Soph.
Alex: Yeah, you're not supposed to take those.
Soph: Shut up, douche!

* * *

Gem: Sarah, did you clean up all those fag butts from outside?
Sarah: Yarr.
Gem: That was Pete's job!
Sarah: He be walkin' the plank.
Gem: I...are you...
Sarah: I'm a pirate today.

* * *

Alex: I'm just feeling kind of...I dunno. I miss you, and Soph keeps calling me a douche, and I don't know how I can hold up a meaningful relationship with a kleptomaniac...yeah...yeah, I know, I have to be strong. Okay. I love you too, JR.

* * *

Joel: And I would do an-eh-theng for love...I would do an-eh-thing for loooOOOVE...I would do an-eh-thiing for love...
Pete: Me ken't believe it's not kastard! 'Cuz it tayests like kastard taystes!

* * *

Sarah: I bought you a flan base, Cliffey.
Cliffey: Awh, thanks, Saz.
Sarah: And Pete, I got you some crisps.
Pete: Quavers? QUAVERS?! NOBODY LIKES QUAVERS, YOU CUR!
Joel: I like Quavers.
Cliffey: God, Pete.

* * *

Soph: I like chicken!
Gem: Soph, living with you is like I bought the dictionary on audiobook and put it on Shuffle.
Soph: I don't read books.

* * *

Tom: I'm working on a rap, right? It's called "The World I Mapped & The Ass I Tapped".
Joel: What?
Tom: It's about Christopher Columbus.
Joel: I'm going to bed.

* * *

For the record, no, I don't know how I managed to insert a hyperlink into my speech.

Joel.

Sharments II

The Re-Sharmenting.

RECENT THINGS

• Sunday was Halloween. We had a small gathering here to celebrate, and much Halloweeny music was listened to. If any trick-or-treaters did come to the house, I didn't hear about it.
• Friday was not Halloween but Josh and Rich and Elusive Dave had a Halloween party anyway. I went as a slightly cheap Freddy Krueger, and Sarah was the Grim Reaper. Josh wasn't anything in particular, he just wore spandex. Herbie and Mark were, between them, Team Rocket, although they were minus Meowth. I'm not sure what Soph was, some sort of evil prostitute possibly. Tom was a banana.
• Speaking of Tom, Tom has a tattoo now. Unless his parents are reading this, in which case Tom has not got a tattoo now.
• I paid the water bill last night, mostly because Dwr Cymru were threatening legal action if we didn't. It cost me about £300, so everyone in the house now owes me sixty pounds! Except Cliffey, who has already paid, and Sarah and Alex, who get to not pay bills because they pay in love.
• Many of the people affiliated with the house went to Oceana on Monday night. Nobody's quite sure what happened, but we do know that Cliffey, Soph and Tom spent yesterday on Cliffey's bed, laughing. Unless Tom's parents are reading this, in which case it was just Soph and Cliffey because Tom was in work.
• It's November, which of course mean it's Movember (or Novembeard if you prefer). I will be hoping to improve on last year's pitiful peachfuzz, but Cliffey, Josh, JR, Mark, Pete (I think) and others are all likely to do far better than me.
• I briefly became part of a folk three-piece yesterday, playing the bongos along with René (guitar/vox) and Calum (violin) from my uni ensemble. We played down in the foyer (or 'street') around lunchtime, belting out some folk songs and also a couple of Irish jigs, because Calum is just an awesome fiddle player. Then last night I showed off my bongo-playing skills to my awed housemates, and we obviously sang Creep, our house's national anthem. 
• The national anthem of the Josh/Rich/Elusive Dave household is Live & Let Die because we had a conversation about it there once. Should it be the Macca version or the Guns 'N' Roses cover? Cast your votes now.
• My brother Nathan came 'round on Friday night for a game of Risk with myself and Cliffey. I won in TWO TURNS, because I'm AWESOME. We filled the remaining time by playing Worms, at which I still rock although I think Tom won on Friday night.
• I hit The Record Shop on Saturday and got five CDs for a pound each. They were: Kid Carpet's Ideas and Oh Dears; My Computer's No CV; Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell; Destiny's Child's Survivor; and Bloc Party's Bloc Party (for Sarah, I obviously already have that record, obviously). I love The Record Shop, everybody go there on Thursdays to Saturdays.
• You know another awesome shop? Wally's Delicatessen. Sarah and I went there on Sunday; I bought a small pot of olives from the olive pick 'n' mix (also featuring stuffed peppers!) and she bought a huge box of Nerds (remember those?) which we're still picking away at.
• Mark, Josh and I are going to see Titus Andronicus in Bristol this month, but not before Sarah, Josh and I go to see LCD Soundsystem and Hot Chip at the CIA.
• Soph got a WoMan point for carving the pumpkins on Friday night, but although there are a lot of pending Man Points they will have to wait until I get a new marker. Pete used the last one up by drawing on his face.

That italics guy from yesterday was sure a dick, wasn't he?

Joel.

Around The Horn

Cutlery regrets to announce the cancellation of The 50th Post Special. Instead, please enjoy this light-hearted tale of folly and redemption on the buses.

I know, we're disappointed too. I don't know how Joel managed to get so big in Slovenia with this attitude. I daresay Slovakia will be a lot less sympathetic to this shit.

* * *

Monday morning is always band practice. Seven of us and our various instruments get together and make sweet sweet music for a couple of hours, before the midday cultures lecture come and dampens our spirits.

Yesterday, however, our noise-making was a little delayed. The beardy guy on reception refused to give me the room key without permission from our course leader, Ben Challis, and the ensuing wild goose chase (I never did track down Dr. Challis) meant that we wasted an hour or so talking amongst ourselves in the corridor. By the time one of the nice techies from the second floor helped us out, we were already halfway into our allotted time, and not looking too likely to accomplish much.

But this post isn't a tirade against the people on reception at the Atrium, nor is it a play-by-play of our abridged band rehearsal. This is a story about a boy (me) and his baritone (my baritone).

It's fair to say that I don't treat the old thing with a great amount of care. My bandmates are often left aghast at the way I toss it around, knock it over, and generally don't show it any respect.

Well yesterday it seems I was so excited to finally get into the practice room that I didn't even bother to bring my instrument in with me, leaving it still sat in the corridor. Our drummer, Luke, grabbed it for me and suggested - not for the first time - that I really ought to take better care of it. I agreed half-heartedly, and said that it was like a parent to me - I treat it horribly, but I'd be fairly sad if it were gone, perhaps because it's so important to getting me through uni. No more was said on the matter, and we used the hour as best we could. Songs were played, and I introduced my Spaghetti Western version of Holding Out For A Hero.

Now. There's an hour-long gap in my timetable between the band practice and the cultures lecture, and I usually spend this hour on the computers in the library, or I take the opportunity to go and get a bit of food (having to be in uni at 9am doesn't leave a lot of time for breakfast). Yesterday, however, I had a plan. I was supposed to be meeting Sarah straight after my cultures lecture and going to Swanbridge with her for an evening away from the city, with its noise and pollution and people who ask you for spare change and shout at you when you don't have any. I didn't want to have to drag my baritone, ungainly as it is, to the far side of Penarth, so I decided to get a bus home, drop off the horn, and speedily get a bus back into town in time for my lecture.

That was the plan, and it was going swimmingly until I got off the bus on Crwys Road and realised, at it sped off into the late morning sun, that I had left my baritone on the luggage rack.

Oh no! My dear sweet baritone horn! Would I never again sound its brassy tone? Would the makeshift handle never again slice into my weary fingers? Would my brave attempts at playing Klezmer Kollectiv tunes by ear never again make my housemates long for the wormy peace of the grave?

I wandered, shaken, back to the house, where I informed Cliffey of my plight:

"I've left my baritone on the bus."
"That's the saddest sentence I've ever heard."

I was in no mood to eat, but, knowing that I had to keep my strength up, I managed to choke down a bakewell tart. I prepared to head back to uni, taking a little consolation in the knowledge that Cardiff Bus does have a lost and found, and how money second-hand baritone horns does one bus company rake in over the course of a day?

I waited mournfully at the bus stop, not looking forward to the two hours of "the music industry wants to rape you" that lie in wait for me back at the Atrium. As the number 38 pulled up, I found the driver oddly familar. He didn't recognise me, of course, but that didn't matter because as I hopped onto the bus I saw, in the luggage rack, my baritone case. Somebody, apparently, likes me.

I was never worried, of course. I timed my journey perfectly so that I would catch the same bus on its return journey to central station. I hadn't even considered how useless  I would be to my uni ensemble without my horn. And I  knew that the driver wouldn't bat an eye at the fact that I got off the bus carrying a large brown case that had been there since before I got on.

So that's my good karma gone for the rest of the year, anyhow. I hurried back to the Atrium, baritone case swinging recklessly in my hand, and settled into my midday cultures lecture, where we were told, amongst other things, that session musicians no longer exist.

I was a bit alarmed; my cousin's a session musician. I should probably make sure he's okay.

Joel.

* * *

I know, that was rubbish. He didn't even mention the awesome Halloween parties, of which there were TWO. You'd think he'd remember at least one of them, right?