Posts Tagged ‘ #showertune ’

#showertune: ‘soulful strut’ by young-holt unlimited

although it’s been a while since i’ve posted a #showertune, i’ve in no way ceased using carefully selected music to start my day well. what is more, as the evenings draw in (that is due to happen, right?) i’ll probably begin again to share my choicest cuts on a more regular basis.

today’s entry, however, was something of an emergency measure. after a hugely enjoyable but extensively gambrinous Saturday night (no, sit down Whigfield), at the unrivalled Thorverton Cricket Club‘s most recent annual end-of-season bash, and a wholly inadequate recovery day on Sunday, with a day of travelling ahead, this morning needed not only a #showertune, but a real corker.

cue Isaac Holt and Eldee Young to take their bow. this joint is a sparkling, mellifluous waterfall of happiness. so, both now and also next time you need a special lift, hit up the dark grey triangle below.

this is Soulful Strut by Young-Holt Unlimited and it’s painfully good listening.


#showertune: ‘good man’ by raphael saadiq

my friend Drew is a good man.

here is a photo of him attacking two women with a stick.

today is his birthday.

happy birthday friend. you are a good man and thorough. and you mean the world to me.


A good man never dies–
In worthy deed and prayer
And helpful hands, and honest eyes,
If smiles or tears be there:
Who lives for you and me–
Lives for the world he tries
To help–he lives eternally.
A good man never dies.

Who lives to bravely take
His share of toil and stress,
And, for his weaker fellows’ sake,
Makes every burden less,–
He may, at last, seem worn–
Lie fallen–hands and eyes
Folded–yet, though we mourn and mourn,
A good man never dies.

James Whitcomb Riley

you might be interested to know that the very same man that can lunge so gracefully at unexpecting women can also write, play, perform and record excellent songs.

his debut solo album was recently released to rapturous applause and plaudits in several of the right places, so if you like music, perhaps you should check it out.

it’s called The Ember by Drew Worthley and you wish you can buy it here or even here

anyway as a coincidental result of all of this, today’s happy-birthday-drew #showertune is by pure chance:

Good Man by Raphael Saadiq


#showertune: ‘rapture’ by blondie

howdie, doodie.

and how are we all enjoying what might be either our last day on earth, or the last day before our lives begin the rapid slide into apocalyptic chaos and (presumably) become dedicated to the looting of the houses of those who’ve been taken? good. me too.

it was very difficult to choose what song to play in the shower this morning – a list of literally one sprang to mind.

so here it is, in all its glory. the first commercial track to ever feature the art of rapping.

ladies and gentlemen, i give you: Rapture by Blondie
(and i’ll catch you later, in the sky)


#showertune: ‘i’m on the move’ by bobby byrd

well, well, wellingtons …

look what the cat dragged in. what time do you call this then? stray dog eat your watch? i was beginning to think you’d joined the foreign legion. i’m sorry, i rented your room to a lodger (and all the other things my mum used to say if i got home late).

yes, i know, i haven’t blogged anything for a while – twenty two days to be precise – and i can only say i’m truly sorry and offer you this #showertune in the hope of your forgiveness and continued patronage.

i did make sure to make sure it was a hyper-funky, dap-dipping, bumping boogaloo on a super positive tip just for y’all.

go on, treat yourself – after all, it’s I’m On The Move by Bobby Byrd


#showertune: ‘sixteen’ by the heavy

happy newy ear

we’re back after a nice little blog holiday (bloliday) and it’s now twenty hundred and tenty one – and what a time to be alive.

also, what a time to be an RQT reader given that the newyear newyou fever has given rise to all kinds of new treats that are currently being wedged into the pipeline all ready to come flooding out of this here tap sometime soon.

#showertune will be taking more of a backseat driving role this year, so while i’ll continue to wash to cheerful choons each day, i’ll be sharing them with you more selectively. instead i hope to provide you, dear reader, with a more variegated gamut of treats.

as for today, we at RQT had a lovely Christmas and NY period spent with friends of the most excellent vintages, and therefore would like to once again commend to you the following people (in alphabetical orderings)

Cazzle-razzle & Jimbeats
Dombey & San Francesco
Krusty the jazz singer
Lassie the ninja big-wig
Lissa Lovely Legs (aka Triple L)
Quiznightqueen Jen (a shy but loyal reader)
will he is & Anya aching

it wouldn’t be right, however, not to single out Lassie for special thanks given the invitation he extended to us to spend Christmas with him and his peeps in the Burrs Wood. he and they-all alike are wonderful examples of human folks with big hearts (and in some cases heads – objection your honour, insulting counsel).

we love you all this<—–(huge distance)—–>much

as such here, in all your Worthless honours is:

Sixteen by The Heavy

#showertune: xmas songs

gleatings earthrings

as some of you will know, the next ten or fifteen days or so will herald the start of the celebration of the British winter festival known as Christmas.

something of which you might not be so aware, however, is that there exists a whole canon of Christmas songs, written, performed and recorded so that British shops have something to play while people buy things.

here at #showertune HQ we’re giving you the chance to select which of such xmas songs or #xmasongs if you will* that you would like us to feature over the festive period.

(*please note: this is the name we have decided on, so in reality your will is irrelevant)

if you’re uncertain about what Christmas songs are, the best place to find out is in a record shop – just ask the person at the counter about which songs they know that are Christmas songs, then write down what they say. also, the internet and the back cover of The Best Christmas Album In The World Ever! are useful.

please send in your votes as comments to this post, and we will try to feature as many as we can over the coming days.

#showertune: ‘all my days’ by alexi murdoch

last night

i rewatched Sam Mendes’ under-appreciated romantic comedy Away We Go.

it had exactly the same effects on me as it had the first time (at the cinema) – smiling, laughing, wistful remembering, hopeful reflection, tears.

i call it a romantic comedy because it’s genuinely romantic and very funny (two characteristics which are curiously under-represented in what usually passes for the contents of the genre).

i throughly recommend that you buy the dvd for a friend for xmas, or, better still, ask them to buy it for you.

today’s #showertune comes from the opening/closing sequences of the film and is the beautiful Nick Drake tribute All My Days by Alexi Murdoch


#showertune: ‘ophis le serpentaire’ by vincent geminiani

remember nostalgia?

boring, wasn’t it (like this overlong post)

given that i’ve come to the end of the project that had been keeping me from reflecting too much on the future, how old i was getting, or the fact that life was steadily moving on and becoming serious without me being ready, at the moment i’m coping with the terror of these realisations by means of romantic remembering.

as i’m sure you all know, nostalgia literally means home sickness [from the greek νόστος (homecoming) and ἂλγος (pain)], and was originally coined in the 17th century to describe what was thought to be a serious medical condition. the condition was also referred to as mal du pais or mal du Swisse, due to its apparent prevalence among Swiss mercenaries who (emotionally and physically) pined for their Alpine homes whilst fighting on the various lowlands of what are now Italy, France, Belgium and the Netherlands.

isn’t it interesting that as well as the fact that homesickness is no longer thought of as either serious or ‘medical’ (except perhaps in extreme cases, where it probably be counted as a symptom of wider mental illness), nostalgia has come to mean a wistful remembrance of/longing for the past? what was about place, has become about time.

despite the fact that my studies and understanding of history have (i hope) been usefully guided by the notion expressed in the famous opening line of The Go-Between by
L. P. Hartley – “The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there” – and that both ancient experience and modern physics point to intimate connections between time and space, i think something valuable might have been lost in the transition expressed by the shift in the colloquial meaning of nostalgia.

however globalised the world becomes, however easy travel and communication become, i don’t think, as humans, we can have story without also locatedness. as such, i feel it is not only necessary to talk about how great all the 60s/70s TV programmes that i used to love as a kid were (for it is these that have recently exercised my nostalgic juices), but also to speak about Edie and her house.

Edie was my next door neighbour growing up. She was a short, brash, thick-black-frame-spectacled, late-sexegenarian cockney, ensconced in our small, remote corner of West Cornwall. given her passion for London, she should have been more out of place, but she embraced the difference like a fish not only out of water, but sunbathing.

the porch that had been added onto the front of Edie’s otherwise-identical-to-ours house was filled with Mills and Boon books, piled high flat on their sides. she called everyone ‘babe’. before I was deemed old enough to have a house key, when my mum was at work, i used to go round to Edie’s after school. we didn’t talk that much, but when we did, i practiced charming her in the way i liked to do with adults.

her lounge was dominated by a thick, white-tassled rug which carried on its back a gilt-legged, glass-topped table with a scalloped edge. she sat in a high-backed green armchair, positioned so that it shielded the wooden TV cabinet from the afternoon sun. i sat to her left on the rug and placed my orange squash on the table, matching the fluting around the bottom of its glass tumbler to the curves that ran the table round. always.

we used to watch Countdown and 15 to 1 together, and then she’d put on children’s programmes for me and retire to the kitchen table to drink tea and smoke. despite the fact that it killed her Tom, smoking was Edie’s favourite hobby. that and cards. and erotic novels. sometimes we’d play cards – she taught me stud and draw poker, brag, cribbage, rummy, whist and even bridge and newmarket. some of the games we played properly, some of them she just explained to me because you can’t play them with two.

mum would usually get back mid-Blue Peter, but on some days she’d be late. at home, the once firm no-TV-during-meals rule had been relaxed in about 1990. the downside was that mum insisted on always watching Neighbours, then The Six O’Clock News, then Spotlight (shonky local news). as such, i liked the days when she was late – Edie didn’t care for the news and let me watch Thunderbirds while she smoked.

very occasionally mum would call Edie to say she was going to be unusually late, and ask whether she could make my tea. it was during one such occasion that it was suggested that at 6:30 we watch The Man From U.N.C.L.E. on BBC 2. i didn’t know what it was and had never ventured to watch it at home, but was immediately transfixed. Edie told me that she’d watched it when she first got a TV in the 60s, and that she liked the dark-haired one (Napoleon Solo played by Robert Vaughan). Edie was never really one for too many details – surprising, given the books she read.

once i’d been given reason, and courage, to watch one old programme that i didn’t know, i started to watch more, and it turned out that there was lots of 60s/70s TV that i loved: Mission Impossible, The Avengers, Ironside, The Prisoner, The Saint, Hawaii 5-0The Invisible Man, Batman, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, the list goes on and on. soon enough, i was videoing these programmes and watching them the next day instead of the kid’s crap.

when i was 11, my mum gave me a key so that i could let myself in when i got home from big school. i was pleased for the flexibility – i could get out of my uniform straight away for one thing – but i missed going round to Edie’s. sometimes i’d go anyway. that was fine with her.

one of the things i now realise about the TV programmes that i discovered because of Edie was that almost all of them contained the kind of music that i now love: Lalo Schiffrin, Quincy Jones, Morton Stevens, Jerry Goldsmith, Walter Scharf, Henry Mancini, Alan Moorhouse, Alan Hawkshaw, Alan Parker (all the Alans), Ron Grainer and many more gave these shows their edge by means of jangling brass, running baselines and rasping drums, often all at the command of deliciously strange time-signatures.

today’s #showertune doesn’t come from any of the programmes above, or any at all as far as i know, but it is beautifully evocative of precisely the right mood and sounds to me like bits of all their soundtracks blitzed in a blender and served over french ice.

as such, it’s dedicated to Edie Collins, who eventually moved back to the South East and is now probably dead.

it’s Orphis Le Serpentaire by Vincent Geminiani


#showertune: ‘qualified’ by dr. john

1001, 1002, 1003

oh, hey there, i wasn’t expecting company. i was just doing my daily work out – wednesdays it’s arms and back. ohh, that’s a deep burn. i can barely lift my right arm (‘cos i did so many). i don’t know if you heard me counting, but i did over a thousand.

as most of you are probably aware, yesterday i had the mark back for that big piece of homework i did (the one that meant i had to take september off blogging). anyway, suffice to say that it turned out ok in the end.

lots of love and thanks to all of you who supported me and helped me through.

i hope you’ll grant me one day of self-endulgent celebration, and as such, today’s #showertune is Qualified by Dr. John

(NB. rejected options included
Dr. John – Baldhead, Dr. John – Make Your Own Bed Well and
Dr. John – Morgus The Magnificent – all genuine tracks)


#showertune: ‘the truth’ by handsome boy modelling school

well, weld, welm

what do we have here? it seems that Advent Sunday really lived up to its billing, by seeing the advent of a whole new era of global relations. i haven’t experienced that many days following which i was aware that the world had profoundly changed:

> 9th November 1989
> 11th September 2001
> 4th November 2008

… but although yesterday will likely not go down as one among of them in many people’s minds, it probably should. thousands of pieces of raw intelligence data chronicling the American empire’s thoughts on/responses to the world as it stands – totally undeniable, totally unedited and made totally available.

even as an advocate for truth, justice and accountability, it’s difficult to know quite how to react to such an unveiling. it really is an apocalypse of biblical proportions – the beast laid bare.

while some of the initial headlines are not exactly of the sort that will astonish many people:

> the Russian government has links with organized crime
> a member of the British royal family made some inappropriate remarks
> the closing of Guantanamo has been a mirky process
> Afghanistan is a political mess

… plenty more shocking truths will no doubt surface as a result of the data leak.

in the meantime, today’s showertune is The Truth by Handsome Boy Modelling School feat. Roisin Murphy & J-Live
(i know we already had Coffee Cold, but this tune just seemed to apt to pass up)


#showertune: ‘you give me what i want’ by laura vane

… and it was all a dream (or was it?)

right, that was #storytime, next up #showertune.

today’s premium cut goes very much out to the one i love (the truest). The Dr is swamped with work right now and struggling beneath the weight of a ton of undeserved crap. however, she is maintaining righteously, and is still the most lovely thing to me.

interpreted (regardless of the original intent) by virtue of an appeal to ‘want’ as being synonymous with ‘lack’, here is You Give Me What I Want by Laura Vane & The Vipertones


#showertune: ‘sunday kind of love’ by etta james

happy birthday to you

happy birthday to you happy birthday dear my lovely friend Siâââââân happy birthday to you

sorry i didn’t wrap your #showertune, but i hope you like it, it’s Sunday Kind of Love by Etta James


#showertune: ‘fortune favours the bold’ by tm juke

tell you what

i don’t know about you, but i feel just brilliant.

at the beginning of last week i felt a bit like i was on the verge of struggling to keep my financial head above the economic crisis waters, but this week, thank you to the lord, saints and all the angels, it turns out that, like Ireland, actually i’ve never had it so good.

what a weight off my shoulders.

i’m yet to get an exact handle on how all the good that i’ve never had it so actually relates to the practical issues of still having less money coming in than i need and so forth, but, psychologically, i have been unburdened.

accordingly, today’s shower was a liberated affair, ably accompanied by Fortune Favours The Bold by TM Juke and the Jack Baker Trio


#admin: #showertune lives …

Dear You

as you might know, recently YouTube got together with all the major record labels in a huge, boardroomed evil lair and decided that despite the fact that the blogs and other video sharing platforms has been directly responsible for the successes of several now well-known acts, they would make it increasingly difficult for people to embed and share YouTube content that is subject to a copywrite claim (which, with regard to the ‘property’ of the majors, is basically done automatically as part of the recognition algorithms built into YouTube upload).

there was a first phase of this over the summer, which in the end didn’t seem to come to much, however the latest round of spoil-sporting and in-the-foot shooting came into effect last week. as you may have noticed, one of the upshots of this has been that the majority of #showertunes have stopped working.

i did consider burying #showertune in a memorial garden, but to be honest i was furious that not only had she been killed, but her life’s work was now useless, given that it consists of a host of links that no longer give rise to sweet music, but instead just a notice that says

the incident made me realise that due to its reliance on YouTube, the #showertunes catalogue (of which i am unjustifiably proud) has always been a hostage to fortune, and that it was all my fault. as a result, i have decided to keep the dream alive, and not only will #showertunes now be hosted on our own servers, but i have begun the lengthy process of uploading all the existing tunes and relinking them to their new homes – hopefully you should already be able to play all the ones currently on the first two RQT pages.

please bear with us as we go about this tedious, but ultimately pointless yet liberating work, and if you feel, given the amount of effort you know goes in, that you should probably get round to telling more of your friends about the magic that happens in this sleepy little corner of the interweb, then we would bloody love that.

thanks ants. thants.

#showertune: ‘more than a feeling’ by boston

do you feel lucky punk, yourself

currently we are seconded to London and on a secret mission which we can’t discuss on pains of what may or not be torture. the reality is, that if you are watchful, you may see us today on the tube, crossing London Bridge or loitering outside Baker St. Tube at lunchtime.

if you do spot us, do come and say high – we’re not above signing breasts or whatever.

in the meantime, why not kick-back in your office chair and waste some more time that you are being paid to work and not read blogs in by cranking up today’s #showertune and engaging in some gratuitous airguitaring and curly-perm-shaking.

treat yourself, it’s More Than A Feeling by Boston


#showertune: ‘give me your love’ by the sisters love

Monday’s child is fair of face

so, if you were born today, congratulations, you can feed, sleep and cry safe in the knowledge that you most likely have a easier life ahead of you than the rest of us, and that even if you are properly, properly stupid, you will be able to find work, if nowhere else, in TV, presenting for, QuizCall or ITV1.

speaking of which, wasn’t it great to see that couple captured by pirates and Daw Aung San Suu Kyi both go free? it made me feel good to be alive. a feeling which was washed thoroughly away shortly after when i foolishly broke my ‘never in this (pent)house’ rule and tuned in to watch Take That perform on The X Factor. here at RQT we’d all like to say a big “nob off Robbie, they were better without you”.

anyway, ever had a really bossy and insecure partner who is constantly demanding affection? well, today’s #showertune is a bit like what that might sound like – it’s Give Me Your Love by The Sisters Love


#showertune: ‘that sound’ by ohmega watts

good morning class

G-O-O-D  M-O-R-N-I-N-G  M-R  T-I-R-E-D

thank you. please take your seats. when i call your name please indicate whether you are “present” or “absent”.

today’s first lesson is #showertune and we will be revisiting a very important theme that we haven’t worked on for a while – hip hop.

some of you failed your hip hop paper last time out because you insisted on writing about grime, dancehall or UK garage, or because you indicated that Jay-Z, Eminem, The Game, 50 Cent or Lil Wayne was “the boss”. please do not make those kinds of basic errors this time round.

for your homework, i want you write two sides on the subject of: My Favourite Use of A Sample. you can write about whatever era you like, as long as you stick to artists/movements mentioned in the course handout. if you want to cover something not listed there, talk to me about it after class and i will adjudicate.

as for this lesson, i want to cover That Sound by Ohmega Watts


#showertune: ‘e-pro’ by beck

happy day

so, one of the questions that has long puzzled humankind has finally been answered.

apparently, the death of Jack Duckworth – historically reenacted on last night’s Coronation Street – proves that not only is there an afterlife, but that the method by which humans are carried there is the good old omnibus.

that will please Americans, many of whom seem to think that going on the ‘bus is torture. apparently George Bush’s lawyer reckons it isn’t, but then, the CIA did once manage to foil a terror attack on Washington by threatening to force some captured terrorists to ride the afternoon cross-town.

today’s #showertune is a song that, like life, ends suddenly.

it’s E-Pro by Beck


#showertune: ‘fan the fire’ by earth, wind & fire

what’s & also up blog peeps (bleeps)

i trust you all had a worthy weekend. given the fact that i rarely do weekend posts, and the National Union of Bloggers went out on sympathy strike with the NUJ, there were no weekend posts this weekend. that means that i’ve yet to either ask you how your 5th of November celebrations went or tell you how mine were.

i hope you stood near a vast pyre, saw the face being burned off a suitably large effigy of that most hated of failed bombers and Catholic scoundrels, Guy Fawkes, and were amused and delighted by brief colours in the sky.

i, myself, don’t personally like fireworks. i find their fleetingness somewhat melancholic. partly for that reason and partly because it’s unbelievably awesome and happens nearby, i prefer to head for the East Devon village of Ottery St Mary to watch the near-400 year old annual ritual of the Running of the Barrels, so i did that.

the festival is a purification rite, similar to many that happen across Britain in late Autumn, designed to purge the village of evil spirits. it consists of 17 barrels being filled with tar, and one-by-one set alight outside the village’s pubs and then hoisted aloft on the shoulders of a man who then runs around carrying the flaming barrel, essentially pushing it into the faces of the thronging crowd. basically, it’s pretty much the most dangerous thing you can imagine could still legally happen in public.

the place is always packed out (this year there were an estimated 20,000 people crammed into the small village square and its narrow surrounding streets) which means essentially you are smooshed up against people on all sides, and, so, as a man carrying a massive barrel of fire on his back runs towards you, you basically have to hope that there is enough space created by the movement of the crowd to allow you get out of his way and not be hideously burned.

sometimes you can get trapped between the barrel and a wall, which is especially fun – that did not happen to me this year, but it has in the past.

also, sometimes people get hurt. last year some genius threw an aerosol can into one of the barrels, causing an explosion which hospitalised twelve people. still, this year, that didn’t happen, so that was good.

it’s the kind of thing that when you explain it to people who’ve never been they assume you’re exaggerating.


yeah, but there must be some sort of cordon around the barrel, right? nope. but, they don’t really get right up in people’s faces with a massive flaming barrel? yep. ok, but the men don’t really run with it do they? yep. right, but they run in a predictable way, right, i mean you know where they’re going? nope. OK, but it’s far safer than it sounds though, right? nope.


in tribute to and celebration of this most eccentric and brilliant of festivals that we at RQT hope continues for a long time to come, today’s #showertune is Fan The Fire by Earth, Wind & Fire


#showertune: ‘the greatest’ by kenny rogers

nonetheless albeit inasmuch whomsoever heretofore andsoon

yesterday i was in a bad mood with the US of A for their electoral madness. today i want to swings thoughts back toward things on a positive tip by crediting where credit is due.

heartfelt RQT congratulations go out to the San Francisco Giants on their ‘World’ Series win (which i think is big of us, given that we are all, to a woman, Yankies fans up in here. fo’ever).

the Giants play a good ball, but the biggest thing in their favour as far as we’re concerned is Brian ‘sweet cleats’ Wilson (relief pitcher extraordinaire, not confused former Beach Boy) – here he is doing his best Kenny Powers (boo-ya) on ESPN.


as for a #showertune, let’s go all The Wonder Years nostalgic for an American childhood we never had by joining hands and singing along to The Greatest by Kenny Rogers (then let’s watch Field of Dreams and go out for icecream shakes)


#showertune: ‘i need a dollar’ by aloe blacc

Americans, that was not nice

i’m very disappointed in you.

listen, i’ve told you before, you won’t get nice things if you can’t learn to share. i want you to go up to your room and stay there and think about what you did, and only come down when you are sorry. no, that wasn’t long enough. and while you’re there, you can please tidy those things under your bed. right, fine, i’m happy for you to stay there all day – there’ll be no dinner and it will be lights out at 8:00, no excuses. listen, if i hear one more peep out of you today, mister, then you can forget all about Grandad taking you to the beach on Saturday, or going up in Mark Phillips’ dad’s hot air balloon in June. right, good – well that’s ok. look, you don’t need to weep and wail, just say sorry to me and then go and get it and give it James and tell him you’re sorry for not sharing, and that he can play with it for the rest of the day. yes, the rest of the day. you have lots of other things to play with. well maybe James will share one of his other toys with you? good boy, well done. see, look Jenny is offering you her bike to play on, isn’t it better when we all share. don’t be silly, it doesn’t matter that it’s a girl’s bike. say thank you. no, ride it for longer than that. those boys aren’t laughing at you, and if they are, then they’re just mean and you shouldn’t want to be their friend. right, that’s it, i think you can have a shower and then go to bed please. your ears are bright red, you’re overtired and you’re grumpy. no, no lego tonight. ok, you can have a #showertune – what would you like? no, we’re supposed to be calming down, not getting ourselves all worked up. i think we’ll have I Need A Dollar by Aloe Blacc


#showertune: ‘electric feel’ by MGMT

bon jovi

and how, as only Americans would ask, are we today? sadly, it seems that everybody’s favourite country, Yemen, is suddenly in the naughty corner. apparently there is one or maybe two inconveniently anti-Western people living at 15, Yemen Road, Yemen who have bomb making equipment which is undetectable to any form of scanner, and who want to use it to kill the president.

luckily, when they tried to do Justin That the other day, at the last moment the plane that the bomb was on disappeared from metres above The White House and reappeared seconds later at East Midlands Airport near Leicester. no-one knows how it got there, and frankly, given the fairly bad acting from everyone except the limping lesbian from ER, few people care. impersonally, i blame illegal aliens (and also metaphors with the sneaking subtlety of dyspraxic flamingoes in tap shoes).

i don’t know about you, but i’d say a war is in order. and, whatismore, speculation on that very subject has lead to perhaps the best lines of journalism ever written, which can be found on today’s addition of the Guardian online. and i quote


“In Washington, the US government was considering whether to grant the CIA far greater powers to select targets in Yemen for assassination by missiles fired from unmanned drones, despite mounting hostility in the country to such air strikes.”


just perfect.

besides the facts that their plot failed and they’ve probably given a country that loves few things more than wars – and is currently involved in a couple of boring, stalematey ones – a reason to make a new one on them, the news gets worse for the Yemeni scamps, as James of the Hewlett Packard customer support line confirmed to me this morning that putting a bomb inside any HP printer most likely invalidates the warranty.

here, have a #showertune: Electric Feel by MGMT


#showertune: ‘dirge’ by death in vegas

good mourning

well done. you made it through the vile veil of evil and live (either that or you’re reading this as a ghost, zombie, vampire or other type of unquiet or undead thing). either way, welcome to mondaynity.

i don’t know about you, but here are my results: 143 houses, 112 treats, 57 tricks (note: as always, some got tricks even though they gave out treats because the treats were crap, or the people looked, smelled or seemed annoying). far fewer tricks needed to be done than last week – hallowe’en always brings a year-high spike to the graph of treats i find – which is good, because smashing windows is tiring, petrol and lighters are very expensive and trapping pets in bins is politically sensitive.

i was already in a bad mood because, for Hallowmorn, The Dr and i went to a preview screening of Let Me In, the boringly titled new American remake of the brilliant Swedish vampire film Let The Right One In. i can’t say it was a disappointment, because I wasn’t expecting much, but it was depressingly, predictably mediocre. basically everything they changed was for the worse. i’ll write up a proper review soon, but for heaven’s sake just see the original.

so, what with that, and several references in various media to “Halloween night” (see what happens when we forget about apostrophes?), i almost didn’t bother to dress up as Frank from Blue Velvet and head over to the posh end of town.

in the end i talked myself into it. however, thinking ahead, i went out nice and early so i was only competing with the small kids and i could get home to watch the whole slew of crunchy, gloopy horror films that would surely be on in the evening to cheer me up. it turned out that someone at freeview had forgotten to schedule any, except for Halloween, which was on BBC 4 at 11:35, and Halloween 5, which was on BBC 2 at 1:55, meaning that if you are a vampire and weren’t planning on getting up till dusk today, then you could watch one good and one really lame film, with an hour’s break in between to do your nails. if like me, however, you are not such, you were basically stuck with James May’s Man Lab.

other than hair like a grey spaniel and horrible shirts, the key to being a man is apparently that we all like really crapply made things moulded out of concrete, and train sets. it was so depressing to watch him padding around onscreen describing colanders as ‘leftwing’ and seemingly believing that he’s not just a massive stereotype. it was practical though, given that he taught a gawping idiot how not to charm a woman, and then spent ages showing us all how to defuse a bomb – which noone in their right mind would ever attempt for real, and which, even though he had the required self-tapping needle, he ballsed up. and, after all that, when it finally went off, he wasn’t even slightly maimed or lacerated. by this point, the joy i’d got from all the pensioners i’d alarmed earlier was wearing right off.

luckily, the Psychoville special made everything better. if you missed it, you should get all over iPlayer. me likey.

today’s festive #showertune is Dirge by Death In Vegas


#showertune: ‘beat me till i’m blue’ by the mohawks

yes? what?

i was put into a rage this morning by an idiot from off TV. The Dr insisted on putting on that one about getting a job, over breakfast, and one of the group of unbelievably stupid and annoying people thereon is a woman who apparently thinks that ‘manoeuvrement’ and ‘professionality’ are words. she was fired, but, according to her, the universe will avenge her death.

‘if the universe is on the side of such people, then all hope is lost’, i mused as i crunched my cornflakes.

speaking of pain, on, erm, recommendation from Dave Cameron, Nick Clegg recently made today’s #showertune the official song of the Lib Dem cabinet.

it’s Beat Me Till I’m Blue by The Mohawks


#showetune: ‘you know you can’ by speedometer

hehro. and happy Woden’s day.

the sun is out, the sky is blue and the penthouse is not too cold. all of things have made me happy so far today.

also, two good things happened last night. one was a dream about Maggie Gyllenhaal. the other was Limbo (XBox LIVE Arcade download) which (although eveyone’s been going mad for it for a while) i played for the first time, and totally loved. it’s a strange and eerie little platform game with a visual style reminiscent of a neo-noir graphic novel, and a very filmic feel.



you play a small, silhouetted boy with bright eyes and you wander and skip through the near darkness in misty forests, stark industrial wastelands and other bleak places. as you explore the levels and solve puzzles to progress, it’s hard to see what is foreground and what is background and often tough to spot things that will end up violently impaling, or crushing, or poisoning, or otherwise killing you. it’s frightening and cute, gory and childlike at the same time. it sounds weird and it is, but it’s also great – check out some footage here.

if you have a 360 i’d thoroughly recommend you download it from LIVE Arcade. i’ll post a proper review at some point.

meanwhile, across town … here’s a #showertune for you.

today i’d like you to enjoy, with me, You Know You Can by Speedometer