For a wench…

For a wench…

© mm7 nathan jones

Reminisced with the best
when I dropped my anchor
in your lagoon
and laid my eyes
on your treasure chest

Set me course sailing west
and treasure booty stole
but could never forget
playing in your rigging
and firing me cannonballs
at your port hole

Three sails to the wind!
Weigh anchor and away wi' thee
Away, away from the maid in Kent
Who's kisses are sent
from the Fiddler's green

Petticoats! She says to me
When I come to her, sailing
across the sea
and those legs!
Rumoured to have crushed
twenty scurvy dogs heads…

A clap of thunder
and I go under
Gangway! Clear for me
Yes, me hearties
I take her fore and aft
and port and starboard
as she sits aloft me mast

Me yardarm goes as hard as me peg leg
when those petticoats I do see
she'll spend all me treasure
in the finest of pleasure
and that's why it is
a pirate's life for me!

Knagaroo Stew

I haven't updated here for a while. I've been overe here. Lots of new writing and photographs of strange things there. Have fun!

Minds and mind outs!

A meeting of minds
and mind outs!
from the scotch pancake living room
from paddington with love

What did you go and die for?
I said to Ivor?
Well, he said
Everyone's got to go sometime, don't they?
Well, I said
Who'll water the flowers?
You'll have to do it,
said Ivor
But my teacup is not big enough

dedicated to Ivor Cutler

My Grey legged Ox

My grey legged ox
with its beatiful bell
I loved to hear its toll
My friend stole the bell
Still attached to the ox

© nathan jones mcmxcvi

Lady Godiva

There was a young lady called Godiva,
Who thought she'd lost her horse
Delighted squeals revealed the eels between her legs
but when she looked down
It was actually her horse, Muff Diver.

© nathan jones mmvii

Artychrist

HP sauce

I tried to download some software for a printer. With no luck, I decided to contact the company about the issue. They have this funny web site talk thingy. I 'chatted' with 'Terry' about the issue. After some time, I was no closer to a solution. Some time later, I received an email transcript of my 'conversation'.


Chat Transcript Begins Here
--------------------------------------------------------------

Terry
Hello Nathan


Terry
Welcome to HP Total Care for All-in-One Products, My name is Terry. How may I help you today?


Terry
Are you with me online? Please respond soon, as a delay in response may disconnect our chat session.


nathan Jones
hello!


nathan Jones
this doesn't work very well on a mac...


Terry
I am sorry to hear that.


Terry
It would be helpful if you could give me a detailed description of the problem and the exact status. This would help me assist you better.


nathan Jones
I am attempting to download the software for the 2575 for mac os x. the download is saying it will take 2 days!


nathan Jones
the file is called: 2570_790_en - is this the right software for mac os x 10.4?


Terry
It seems to be the issue is with the software part.


Terry
I am afriaid to inform you that we are not technically trained in MAC platform.


Terry
I am afraid, at present HP does not offer CHAT Support for this product in the Macintosh OS environment. However, you can avail full support in the Macintosh environment through our phone support teams. You can call them @ 800-HP-INVENT or 800-474-6836. These service engineers are Macintosh OS specialists and would be able to help you over the phone. This is available 24/6 (except Sundays) and is a free service. We apologize for the inconvenience and look forward to assisting you. We also offer e-mail support for MAC OS. You can contact our email support at: http://h20180.www2.hp.com/apps/Nav? h_pagetype=email&h_lang=en&h_cc=us&h_product=236252&lc=en&cc=us


nathan Jones
is that a New Zealand phone number?


Terry
No , it is of US.


nathan Jones
I am in New Zealand and cannot call a US 800 number - it will not work.


Terry
Please wait I will give you the New zealand number.


nathan Jones
thank you


Terry
Thank You for your time.


Terry
Technical support, repair and warranty cover 0800 441 147 Monday - Friday 9:00am - 9:00pm Saturday - Sunday: CLOSED http://www.hp.co.nz/contactus/consumer.asp


Terry
Is there any thing else i can assist you today?


nathan Jones
No, I just had a simple download question. Why are the hp servers so slow?


Terry
Please contact us again if you require any further assistance. Our exclusive Owner Services will help keep all of your HP and Compaq products up and running. Please visit our Web site at: http://www.hp.com/home/ownerservices


Terry
Are you using dial up internet connection?


nathan Jones
no, broadband. all other downloads are fine


Terry
Nathan, HP full feature software is a big software, it will take time to download.


nathan Jones
yes, but it says 2 days!


nathan Jones
it has taken over 30 minutes to download the first 1mb


Terry
I request you to please contact our phone support for further info.


Terry
Please contact us again if you require any further assistance. Our exclusive Owner Services will help keep all of your HP and Compaq products up and running. Please visit our Web site at: http://www.hp.com/home/ownerservices


Terry
Thank you for using HP Total Care and providing us an opportunity to serve you through Real-Time Chat.




--------------------------------------------------------------
Chat Transcript Ends Here

Look Around You

The more astute of you… WAKE UP! will notice the new category of ridiculous. If you press this button, you will discover all things ridiculous that reside on the web.

It's just RIDICULOUS!

Starting with…

Moustache

I shaved off my beard. It wasn't really a beard. I didn't cultivate it. It was just the result of inaction with an overpriced stick of plastic with some sharp bits in it.

I have always been curious as to what I'd look like with a 'Nick Mason'. If you've ever seen Pink Floyd's Live in Pompeii you'll know what I mean. So, now I know. I look like Nick Mason circa 1972. I don't know what else I expected, really.

The tash felt good. There was a slightly odd 'wind drag' effect as I descended stairs. My smooth chin felt cold and felt as if it was deflecting the air onto the rough 'drops' of my new tash. I'd be interested to explore the theory in a wind tunnel.

Here are a few famous drop bar tashes. have I missed anyone?

Nick Mason - Pink Floyd



Lemmy - Motorhead



Also, Echoes, Part 1 - see the Nick Mason moustache in action!



Derek Smalls from Spinal Tap



I don't think this strictly counts myself…

I'm just nipping to the shops…

I nip out to buy an alphabet stencil and a number stamper.

I am wearing an old T shirt, scruffy shorts and a pair of trainers that a previous girlfriend's puppy chewed up. The shoes barely stay on, but I love them and can't bring myself to throw them away. They are my lucky shoes. I wore them when I broke my ankle. We have history. I am also wearing a beard and anarchaic hair (the revolution starts on the top of my head).
I bump into a couple of friends having a 'meeting' in the sun at the local bar. Of course, I join the meeting for a quick beer. It would've been a waste of some beautiful sunshine to be scouring away in a stuffy stationers (although some of you may be aware of my stationery fetish). I did then attempt to buy rubber stamps afterwards, but they were bum clenchingly expensive. I decided to make my own potato cutouts that would work just as effectively - although I will have to carve new ones every two days as the potatoes shrivel up. I find really cheap stencils in the Kitchen Shoppe. They are perfect. I also by a lenticular address book with some guy with a beard and a 3D flock of sheep around him.

I get a telephone call from my friend James and we meet outside the shop. The sun has moved to the other side of the road and we ensconce ourselves there with a cold beer. A japanese lady comes by with a bag full of magnetic rocks, squeaking ducks with frog tongues, barking dogs with red flashing eyes and crappy fake flowers. I am feeling expansive and, with the help of everyone sitting outside the bar, choose a neon green fan with a pair of magpies in the motif. I give the fan to the new barmaid. She is surprisingly touched.

James and I attempt to play pool. The Championship's League second semi final is on. AC Milan are whipping Man U 2-0. The pub is completely rammed. Thankfully, Be @ 1, the typographical nightmare of a bar is over the road. We have some fabulous cocktails. I keep forgetting how friendly it is here and how good the cocktails are. People we know are coming and going. One of the old bar team is in there - I haven't seen him for a year and a half. He gives us shots on the house…

Later, we have a quick game of pool, but due to the football being on TV, the lights are hoisted to the ceiling and look like a ladies skirt hoisted to climb stairs. It is dark. Being on yellow balls has a distinct advantage over the novelty dark blue ones.

Before leaving the bar, I get involved in a rant with a girl from Middlesborough. She has a bone to pick with me and it is about Kate Moss.

Anyway, we end up in Inigo. It is a quiet night at Inigo as it is a Wednesday, which means you still can't hear each other speak, but at last you can walk to the toilets without suffocating in sprayed on tan cleavage, or suffer carpet burns from nylon dresses.

I am half cut, but I get home victorious. It is a full 12 hours later, but I have stencils.

Liverpool v Chelsea

Pushkin and I settled down to watch the Championship League semi final of Liverpool versus Chelsea.

Pushkin bit her claws down to the cuticles as the game went into an extra time cliffhanger, and then penalty shoot out. Liverpool came through and will play AC Milan, or Manchester United. I'm hoping Man U. get through myself, but either game should be fun.

Come on you Reds!!!

Life drawing class in Hackney

On the relative normality of a quiet day in Nathanworld, I went to life drawing class on Monday. It was upstairs in a pub in Hackney/Homerton. The class leader is a mad drunkard, who laughs like a Machievallian baddie in a Hammer film. There are two pub cats, one of which joined the art class!

Gentlemen, a word of advice…

… Never keep your condoms in your breast pocket. Why? I'll tell you. After a few jolly days on the beach and splendid evenings in fine and quirky hostelries, I took the train back from Brighton to London. There are engineering works on the line and a replacement bus service to Three Bridges. My flowery bag and guitar and I are in close proximity and in facing seats with a very pretty, and gawky/lanky 18 year old girl and her mother. The seating arrangement lends itself to conversation. The girl and I keep touching bare knees - she is in a beautiful flower print cotton summer dress, and I in shorts. It means nothing, but feels very intimate, something that means nothing with friends, but slightly offends the British reserve with strangers. We are talking together. The girl sneezes in a fit of hayfever. Being a gentleman, I offer her my handkerchief with a flourish. However, there are condoms in my breast pocket too and these fly out and land in her lap. Not one, not two, not three, but four of them. The condoms are in purple wrappers that look like blackcurrant sweets. I see her flash of realisation and a quick sideways glance at her mum. Her mum is looking out of the window. The girl discreetly covers the condoms with her hand, blows her nose and cleverly hands the handkerchief and the condoms back to me together without her mum seeing. Every time we make eye contact we are in fits of giggles all the way to Three Bridges. Much to the annoyance of her mother.

Pre School Tea Party Massacre

Preschool Tea Party's Drop it Asshole: I'm lovin' it. You can download the album for free. Find it and do so, it's brilliant.

Myspace

Myspace, a room where your favourite record is always playing. You can put up all your favourite pictures. A place where your best friends permanently hang out. You can hear the echo of recent and current conversations. The bulletin radio tells you when your mate's sister's brother's half-uncle's band is playing next.

Myspace, like a student house with creaky boards and uneven walls. There is a dripping tap in the kitchen and a missing doorknob. Everybody's room is painted unalike. Some rooms are redecorated every week. People put pictures up and take them down; move them and give them to friends and share music.

Myspace, the rent is cheap from the media mogul landlord. The vast corridors of 'myspaces' of slightly substandard and shabby structure. Every now and then something pops and you get lost. A wall goes up where you once beat a familiar path to a friend's door. You have to find a different wonky staircase up to the floor.

Myspace, you can leave your door open, or shut it to yourself and your exclusive friends, but you can't escape the flickering neon lights above you. You get used to it and ignore it soon enough, of course. You never stop wondering at the architect of this eyesore of a construction. Why did they build the windows so weird?

Myspace, you know you will leave someday. Maybe you'll pack up your stuff, or just trash the place before you go. Maybe you will get yourself a second life? Or, maybe you will move to the real world where the you can scrape your real knuckles on the uneven wood chip walls. Taste the real sweet air while playing your favourite record in the park.

Entertainment in Reading

I was thinking of going to Reading to see some friends there. I checked out the Reading Council web site for events. These are the top six events on the council site. I decided not to visit, it looks too scary there.

Peter's Bike

At the junk shop, the Chopper bicycle lay
Leant on a busted table, where knives and spoons bend
and one eyed dollies play
And kitchenettes and dusty mirrors and
chandeliers with missing slivers
So, back to the bike
leant on the busted table
We pass it and admired it
everyday on the way home from school
We patted the seat and squeezed the brakes
The bike was really cool

One day, coming home with his mum,
Peter pauses to peruse
the sparkling spokes, the banana saddle
the three gears from which to choose
'You like the bike, don't you Peter'
'Yes, mum', said Peter, who, as usual
was chewing the cuff of his sweater

In the sunlight
leaning on a secondhand door
Penfold, the junk shop owner
smiles a tacit smile, when
Peter's mum said to Peter,
'Well, the bike is yours'

©mm7 nathan jones

Ethical shopping

If… illegal so called recreational drugs were legal, one would be able to make an ethical choice about were and what to buy. Cocaine and weed could be fairtrade and organic. Those farmers in Colombia would appreciate not having machine guns stuck in their faces if they attempt to grow food crops, I'm sure.

Ecstasy and LSD could be hallmarked to show purity. Also, your e's would not arrive to your mouth via a condom up someone's bum as is sometimes the case. And people, do read up on your drugs. I'm amazed at the amount of people who bang on about their bananas supporting the Dominican economy, or boycott certain animal food products due to inhumane treatment fail to do a little research on the recreational drugs they neck carelessly at the weekend. MDMA, or Ecstasy was synthesised by the Nazis in WWII and tested on prisoners as part of a wider range of horrific medical experiments. That is just one example.

OK, rant over. On a lighter note, this is a documentary of British troops experimenting with LSD. This is my kind of war…

Catch 22

Random postcards

The random postcard project entailed choosing a number from 1-100 and emailing it in. In return for the number, you receive a word. This word is then illustrated on a postcard and sent in.

Tonight was the private view. It was a quiet little affair, but the gallery space is lovely. Homestead Gallery is in St. John's Street, Clerkenwell. There is a café bar that serves vodka and scrambled eggs. The seating is all old seventies spce age looking dining sets - all different. There is a record shop where you can help yourself to headphones and a record player and listen to music.

Here are a couple of my postcards, you can see the rest here:

Random postcards

Oh my goodness, there is a picture of my mum winning the typographic quiz on there too…

Are people really that stupid?

I am working in a shop this week. I have the shop to myself and I'm chilling out with some records on. During the day, the front door is kept locked and operates on a buzzer. The amount of people who push the door and walk away amazes me. Even if I wave, they just walk away. Sometimes, later in the day, people pull the door and think it is locked - and just walk away. They don't even bother to try and push it. The shop lights are on and there is music playing. The shop looks 'open'. Surely opening a door is a pretty basic cognitive function? How many options are there? Push or pull. Then, the variables - shop open, shop closed.

A friend works as a night porter in a guest house. He recently mentioned the lack of basic ability in many guests using the swipe card door locks. From his little office, he sees guests returning at 4am, swiping the outside door and just staring at the door. They don't even bother to push. Then they leave and probably sleep in a gutter on the streets of Liverpool with a broken bottle as a pillow.

A surreal hour

Today I sold a pair of shoes. An odd pair of shoes. I got them mixed up as I had a lot of shoes out. The customer left with two left shoes I discovered the error when I went put the display pair back and they just didn't look right. Well they did. Two right.

I put the Oh Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack on the record player as I giggled to myself about the man with two left feet. Two bible bashers from the Hardcore Catholic's R Us building over the road came in. They are easy to spot. They wear short sleeved white shirts with a shiny name badge and never smile. In the the highways, in the hedges went those squeaky girls on the record whilst my austere friends browsed.

I took note of a 'foreign' accent and asked the guy were he was from. Texas, he replied. Ah, so this stuff must be right up your street, then? I said pointing a thumb at the speakers. I think… I've heard this song before, came the reply. The other guy chirped in, I'm not from Texas, I'm from Tunbridge Wells in Kent! Feeling conversational, I respond: I know it well, and Rye too, such a beautiful place. To which the Wellsian fellow almost smiled, then went blank and stared intently at his top button. The Texan asked me about a T shirt in the window from a week ago. It said Morningwood on it, the Texan said. The T shirt in question was a tongue in cheek pun on what is more commonly known (in the UK at least) morning glory. For the 52% who don't experience it, it is waking up with a hard on. A uniquely delightful experience of the male subsection of the species. Anyway, the Texan was rather crestfallen that the T shirt had been sold and they both left the shop.

I pondered the meaning of the Texan Crusader wanting a smutty T shirt, whilst I chewed cashew nuts. The thing I really don't understand is what the can of lighter fuel he was holding was for.

Moments later, a nuclear family came in. Mother, father, daughter and son - the other .4 seemed to be floating around their heels somewhere. Skinny Tees? asked the mother. They chose a rather nice yellow T shirt with green screen printed graphics of a girl riding a rodeo horse and waving a lasoo. The words Drugstore Cowgirl were written around the picture. The young boy (maybe 9?) tried it on and it fiited perfectly and looked good. They bought it and the boy left the shop with the T shirt on.

Two left shoes, T shirts with sexual references to bible bashers and Drugstore Cowgirl T shirts for a boy. Damn, I'm good.

Anyone want two right shoes?

Meanwhile, on Tooting High Street…

David Shrigley

The man is far too popular for his own good, but he brings refreshing insight (and myopic neurosis) into the mundane. Nowhere more dazzlingly so than here… (poke his name, above)

Beans on toast

Beans on toast

Add to My Profile | More Videos

Breakfast of Champions

Kurt Vonnegut is vonnegone
venny voz ere ee voz vonnegood
venny voz gone it voz verrysad

Pictures of vonnebottoms
pictures of vonnearses
Kilgore Trout spouts gutless wonder
Diane Moon Glooper, god bless your vonnewater

Vonnegut, you'll be missed a vonnelot

Art

Every time I try to do some art someone tells me to stop making a mess.

Detour

Told in flashbacks, Detour is the tragic tale of Al Roberts (Tom Neal), a New York nightclub pianist who hitch hikes to Hollywood to be with his girl Sue (Claudia Drake) who is has left to become a Hollywood star.

Al gets a lucky ride and the slightly shady Mr Haskell (Edmund MacDonald) is going all the way to LA. Well, Mr Haskell dies mysteriously and Al takes the car and assumes Haskell's identity. Unlucky for Al, a woman, he picks up at a gas station, Vera - played by the ferocious Ann Savage - turns out to have been romantically involved with Mr Haskell. The plot descends into a spiral of blackmail and murder.

Tom Neal is a little hammy in this, but it kind of works, especially when Ann Savage's Vera starts to tear him apart.

The film was made in just six days. An incredible feat when you see it, despite a few loose ends in the story. There is a certain gritty realism in retrospect. Tom Neal was a real rough guy. He served six years for manslaughter after his third wife died after being shot in the head.

This is without a doubt Ann Savage's finest role. She burns through the role like a spitting, hissing caged cat. Savage set a whole new standard of femme fatale in this fim.

The film is out of copyright and available as a reasonable quality download from www.archiveclassicmovies.com

Passport to Pimlico (1948)

Passport to Pimlico is one of the best of the Ealing comedies. Set in Pimlico, London during a summer heatwave. A building site is discovered to have an unexploded bomb underground (the film being made not long after WWII when London was still recovering from its battering by bombs). The bomb goes off accidentally and an Alladin's cave of treasure is found in the crater. The wonderfully batty Molly Reed, played by the equally batty Jane Hylton is the history expert who verifies the loot as belonging to the Earl of Burgundy.

One thing leads to another and Pimlico becomes an autonomous nation called Burgundy. Stanley Holloway who plays Arthur Pembleton - a grocery shopkeeper, becomes Prime Minister.

The script is sharp and typical of Ealing. Seeing the amiable working class of Pimlico taking on the mild buffoonery of Whitehall.

"We always were English and we always will be English - and it is just because we are English that we are sticking up for our rights to be Burgundians"

I wondered about the film location - featuring a raised overground railway in the background (which doesn't exist in Pimlico). The film was actually made in Lambeth, just to the other side of the river from Pimlico. The railway is actually the line between Vauxhall and Waterloo. A sharp eye can spot Hercules Road and Sail Street from the train and see where the film was made.

The film is now out of copyright and available (along with other great movies) as a reasonable quality download from: www.archiveclassicmovies.com.

Olympic tea pouring competition

My grandmother was multi skilled sportswoman. Not only did she ride Irish ponies, but was Childwall Bowls champion too. If that wasn't illustrious enough, she could also - using her special competition teapot, pour a cup of Lady Grey from the height of 1.2 metres without spilling a drop.

I propose tea pouring at Olympic level. The tea pouring contest could then be followed by the biscuit dunk. This would be divided into sprint, medium distance and endurance. The sprints would take place with Jaffa Cakes - contentious maybe as they are called cakes and not biscuits. This would just add to the excitement. Next, digestives and finally the real test of stamina would take place with Rich Tea biscuits. In an experienced hand, these biscuits have been known to stay dunked for a full 45 seconds without breaking off and sinking into the murky depth of a cup of milky Ceylon.

Lastly, I'd like to propose solo synchronised swimming. This would entail splashing around in a pool and saying, "Lookatmelookatmelookatme". Whoever could do this most effectively would be the winner.

Blenheim Crescent

Easter egg hunt

Easter starts waking me up on Danny's sofa. The glorious dusty light singing an aria into my sleepy eyes. Last night Dannny, Stephanie and I put away five bottles of sparkling wine - we fripped Freixenet, we caned the Cava and we licked the Lindauer. Stephanie and Billy arrive with excited and noisy kids in tow. "Sorry I crashed out early - I was a bit woozy and went to bed", said Stephanie. "Steph, I puked in your flowerbed, don't worry about it", I reply cheerfully.

Beastly Beaster

Beaster Beastly Brown Bunnies Bounce Badly Behind Badger's Big Bop Barn
Badger's Bribed, Bronwyn's Broke, Bromine's Brown, Bunnies Beastly
Beastly Brown Bunnies Break Badger's Big Bop Barn
Badger Baits Beastly Brown Bunnies Back
Bunnies Bore Badger Bribed
Badger's Big Bushels Beastly Brown Bunnies Bunked
Badger Bares Big Black Balls, Beats Beastly Brown Bunnies
Black, Blue Beastly Brown Bunnies
Bleak Black Bold Badger Barrow Been Bought
Big Bad Badger Boils Bunnies Become Bold
Beastly Brown Beaster Bunnies Badger Baits Bid
Bye Bye

© mm7 nathan jones

Last of the Romanoffs

Her Imperial Highness was born to the Imperial Russian family of Saint
Petersburg in 1905, but was almost immediately hidden away on the orders
of the Czar due to her startling mane of red hair.

Regina Fong is the alter ego of Reginald Sutherland Bundy. The plaque is at the Black Cap pub in Camden. I can recommend the food. It is reasonably cheap and better than your average pub meal. Do not drink the water from the flower vases on the bar as the staff get upset.

Jane's Birthday

Palace of the Bitches

Archive Classic Movies

Who remembers Black & White Flash Gordon on BBC2? I do. That was back when TV's had three channels: BBC1, BBC2 and ITV. You had to push the clunk buttons really hard to change channels. There was white noise between channel changes. Remote control? Use your legs, son. When you you switch the TV off, the picture shrunk into a white dot in the centre of the screen. If the TV had been on a while, the white dot stayed for ages.

Anyway, Archive Classic Movies have got Flash Gordon. They've also got José Ferrer's Cyrano de Bergerac (opinions - is this one or the Gerard Depardieu one better?). They've got La Ciociara - An amazing Sophia Loren movie. There is plenty of pulp, including Reefer Madness - the completely ridiculous film on the perils of smoking weed. Possibly more appropriate now with everyone growing their own strong hydronic versions.

All these movies are free to download. The site is beautifully simple and the amount of content is mind boggling. You can subscribe to the podcasts which makes searching and choosing even easier. It almost makes me want one of those video ipod thingys and commute two hours everyday - almost. I'd much prefer a large Chesterfield, daquiri in hand, watching on a screen that doesn't have tacky silver plastic around it - but these things seem are becoming more difficult to achieve in this modern world.

Well, more soon, I'm off to watch the entire series of Radar Men From the Moon!

Craphone Whorehouse

What can I say? They've done it again! Bollocks in the vice and a smart smack with a hammer. My last phone bill is £163. Okay, I talk a lot, I'm busy and important and live a high profile life. However, I'm on a new deal and I expected my bill to be £35. I used the call timer to check my minutes. I checked the amount of text messages, I didn't phone international, so what happened?

Well, this is what happened. I 'upgraded' as they call it on the 6th February. I have a new phone (which is not as good as my old phone, but that is another story). I was given a new SIM card so that I could video call (I still can't - but that is another story).

I used the phone as you would - like a normal phone. And the… huge phone bill. I upgraded with the customer 'loyalty' department. I was promised the new phone with no obligation for fourteen days. I was promised a copy of the contract by email and by letter. I have the phone, but i do not have a copy of the contract over a month later. I have telephoned them, I have emailed them and last week I was promised a phone call from a manager with an explanation of what is going on. The phone call has not materialised. I should've known better to be honest, they have never, ever returned a phone call. In this instance, they didn't even send me an invoice prior to raiding my bank account, they just swioed the money!

According to the representative that I spoke to, who only very, very reluctantly gave his name, I was on the new contract from the 6th of February, but it didn't start for another few weeks. This means that instead of making calls on my new tariff of a million 'free' minutes, that I was paying full whack for each and every call I made.

Also, I was promised free 0800 calls. These are free from a UK landline anyway, but mobile companies charge for them. I attempted to make an 0800 call and discovered that they are not free at all, but come off my minutes allowance. The loyalty department representative and a person in my local store both told me these calls were free.

I have written my third letter to them and I will let you know what they say if they ever bother to reply.

Craphone Whorehouse are the most deceitful, mealy minded company I have ever had the misfortune to deal with, I cannot recommend them enough.

Tax letters

I have just received a letter from HM Revenue & Customs. It is the normally depresaing brown windowed envelope. The letter is fat as there is a lot of paper in it. It is my tax calculation for last year. Thankfully, I have nothing to pay. According to the letter, a due date has already passed and that I should not wait for my next Statement of Account. What due date is that, I wonder?

I will write to you again if I have any questions about your tax return - if you have any questions my telephone number is above.

There is no name. I do not know who 'I' is. The telephone number is the normal tax enquiry line.

The second sheet shows a tax calculation. It fits into the top third of the sheet of A4. The rest is blank. All the information could have fit on one sheet of A4. The letter also contains a leaflet - How to Pay, even though I don't owe anything. This is normal. I have had hundreds of letters of varying intelligibility from the tax office over the last year. Many letters contain many sheets of paper with just one Dada sentence on it.

The tax office likes to spend all our tax money on paper. They love the stuff. They love it so much the print a little bit of mathematical poetry onto each sheet and send it out to everyone in the land. It has to be asked, if the tax office didn't send out quite so much opaque text, that we would all pay a little less tax, or that the extra tax might go towards something useful?

For me, tax returns are like buses. You wait ages and then five come along all at once. I've just had to do tax returns for the last five years. I spent most of January like Sherlock Holmes on a paper trail. I felt like Starr on Clinton's impeachment - except that I was investigating my own past. It didn't seem like me.

Not only that, there was a cock up with the tax credit system. I was sent about £3,800 by them. I also received a letter explaining that this was money owed for about two years prior. Not only that, they didn't send one cheque, they sent cheques in obscure amounts of £162.17 and £138.48. I received over twenty cheques in brown envelopes - all on the same day. The paper, the postage, the waste…

I telephoned the tax credit people, but they knew nothing about it. This was two days before I went travelling for six months last year. When I got back I had over thirty letters desperately asking for the money back and some very nasty ones threatening me with court action.

The cheques are only valid for thirty days. These letters were sent in December. It should have been perfectly clear that they hadn't been cashed. Also, I had been sent more cheques and a few days later a letter asking for them back!

Anyway, I've had enough of it. All that wasted paper, all my wasted time. Granted that if you call the tax office they are friendly and helpful (hooray!).

Something is obviously a bit out of kilter with the computer system. I understand it must be a very large computer to rememember everyones tax details. Large it may be, but ultimately stupid - spitting out rubbish and sending it to people.

Jules Dassin and his luck

On the Criterion DVD of his film Rififi, Jules Dassin talks of extraordinary luck in his film making career. A notable time was in Cannes. He was there with his wife. They were almost broke after Dassin was blacklisted by HUAC (see Jules Dassin and the Hollywood Blacklist). The producer and Dassin were in a casino. Dassin didn't have any money of his own and begged for some from his friend. "What day did we start filming?", Dassin asked. The producer replied "On the 18th". Dassin put all the money he had been given on the number 18. He won and lived for several months on that money.

Jules Dassin and the Hollywood Blacklist

The Hollywood blacklist destroyed the lives and careers of many actors, writers and fimmakers during the McCarthy 'Red Scare' era in America.

Having just watched Rififi again - a gripping film noir heist movie from 1955, I got thinking about Jules Dassin, the director. Dassin. He was brought in front of House Comittee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) after a fellow director, Edward Dmytryk - denounced Dassin. Dmytrk himself became known as one of the Hollywood Ten, when he and nine other film industry professionals were put in prison for a year for alleged un-american activities. The number ten is misleading as there were more.

Dassin was no longer able to work as a film maker for five years. However, the story of the last film he made before this exile is an interesting one. Dassin's friend and producer, Darryl F. Zanuck had assigned Dassin the film Night and the City. Aware of Dassin's impending interview with HUAC, Zanuck urged Dassin to start shooting - and start with the expensive scenes, so that the studio would be more likely to let him complete the film - having already shelled out the bulk of the production money. The gambit worked. However, with the heat on from HUAC, Dassin moved to France and was trying to work there. European film producers were informed by HUAC that any films in which Dassin worked on would not be allowed to be released in America.

It was the film Rififi that Dassin made after this enforced hiatus. Apparently, Dassin was a little reluctant to take on the film, but did so needing the work. The original book by Auguste le Breton was adapted to include the cinematically and stylistically famous safe breaking scene. In the book, the actual crime is fairly brief, but in the movie it is a tense half hour with no dialogue and no background music. The scene caused a stir with the gendarmes in France, where it was temporarily banned - fearing copycat safe breaks. The film enjoyed box office success as well as now being seen as an excellent example of Film Noir.

Weather with you

World of Clara

This is a fun myspace site. My friend Clara sent me a link to her site: www.myspace.com/clarasofie. Check out the music and go and see them - if you are in Denmark!

However, I noticed another Clara added as a friend. Clara, is not the most common name, and myspace being what it is, I clicked through. The World of Clara! Clara's of the world unite! Fabulous stuff:

www.myspace.com/world_of_clara

Judy Garland

Cole Porter Medley. She looks a bit spaced out to be honest, but I love the set. You can see the Liza Minelli look - Liza looks like her mum did later in life, when she was younger - if you get what I mean.

Pecker

Pecker is Ged and Bev's fabulous cat. When I make an fairly infrequent visit to Liverpool, he has the same routine every time.

1) Have a big cuddle - upside down

2) Bite me (gently) for making him dance on two legs like he is doing the moonwalk

3) Go and shit next to the cat litter tray

4) Get in my travel bag and go to sleep

Top of the Pops

This is my new brown tank top. It's from the seventies. It has a round neck which is unusual. It's acrylic and keeps me hot.

What?

Miss Something?

After the Duke of Uke show, I head home. Feeling a little hungry and having no food at home, I reluctantly venture into the local kebab shop. They are nearly closed and have nothing to eat. There is a drunk girl sitting at the back table barking at me. I think she is saying "Get chips and salad!". It seems like good advice, but they are mopping the floor and the bleach smell quells any appetite I have.
This girl, dripping lettuce, sauce and strips of meat from her mouth whilst speaking has a certain charm about her. We talk and it turned out she was a long way from home. When the smell of bleach becomes too overpowering for both of us, we walk back to mine and talked. The kebab girl, who is really named Stephanie, has been to see here friend's band, called The Horrors play. The Horrors seem to be in The Beano* rather a lot lately, but I haven't heard them yet. Stephanie tries to describe them to me, but we are walking fast and she is drunk and has the hiccups.

Well, I know what you are all thinking. However, Stephanie and I have a nice glass of wine together before I put her in a taxi home.

Stephanie writes beautifully and has some fun songs at:

www.myspace.com/stephaniesomething

*The NME

Last night in Spain

Last night in Spain,
Saint James threw his hat in the ring.

Threw the towel in, and laid his bones down
into the sands of Spain.

Last night in Spain
I lost my name
I hit the wall
I swam the flood
and came aground

Last night in Spain
I lost my head
I sailed the seas
With a chorus of angels
to Santiago

© mm7 Rob Vandeven and Nathan Jones

Total Lunar Eclipse of the Heart

Tony and I, dressed in our usual sartorial splendour, alighted in Brixton for the evening's entertainment. We saw a fine trio of players who are known under the moniker The Fratellis. This rather exotic sounding group made splendid ditties and finely crafted melodies and appropriated them to electrical instruments. The ambience of the Academy was, as usual, elegant. The company jovial, if rather scruffy looking and coarse of character.

Following the excitable atmosphere of the Academy, the honourable Mr Mitchell and myself sought refreshment for our arid thirst. We found a suitable hostelry on the Coldharbour Lane, known as the Prince Albert. At this adjunct, we turned our eyes skyward, ever careful not to tilt our glasses, to look at the fair moon. She was the colour of a fair maid's lips. A deep and rosy red. Increasingly darkening like the wing of a rook, until eclipsing completely.

We stood, gentleman and paupers alike, humbled at the spectacle before us. There, our majestic sun, veiled by distant lands, held its shadow clasped upon the maiden of the sky.

The observation of the phenomena caused great strain to our noble necks, turned upwards at an unnatural angle. We sought lubrication of said anatomy, before arriving at the omnibus stand for the journey home.

Oxford FC

On a cold, windy afternoon, Gravesend arrive in Oxford to get a red card and two yellows - to be booed at by the crowd and then lose 1 - 0. Crowd attendance: Home, 5615. Away, 205. They didn't stand a chance.

Flowers of romance

say it with flowers
Originally uploaded by Frank Spartacus.

Barmy army on the beach

I am restoring and digitising a load of Super 8 films. They belonged to my father and grandparents. Rather than telecine them, which is copying the film frame by frame, I have opted to film them on the screen. This is much more like how I rememember watching the films the first time round. Sitting in my grandparents dining room, the projector sitting on the table and making the whole room hum.
This film is one of my father's. I can no longer remember which battle they are reenacting. I'm also not sure which beach they are on. It looks like somewhere near Birkenhead to me.

Curried Parsnip Soup

I bought a giant parsnip from the farmer's market. It was nearly two feet long. After holding up a couple of banks with it, the novelty wore off so I decided to cook it.

Quite Quick Curried Parsnip Soup (if it takes longer than half an hour then you are stupid)

1 tbsp vegetable oil - (I used sunflower oil - think anyone noticed?)
A big dollop of butter, it's your dollop so you choose the size. About the size of an english eight ball.
1 red onion chopped into little pieces - or big squares so they look nice
3 parsnips - or one giant parsnip like mine! dice so they are las vegas dice sized. Imagine you are Stagger Lee.
2 garlic cloves crushed like a christian under a 4th century chinese chariot.
2 tsp garam masala
half tspn chilli powder
1 tbspn plain flour (I used cornflour - and it was out of date - again, think anyone noticed? No, and nobody died either)
1 pint vegetable stock - or more if you like your soup looking like piss. It's ok I won't hold it against you if you do - it's handy if you have more people to feed.
grated rind + juice of half a lemon
salt n pepa (on the stereo as well as on the table, innit)

1. Heat the oil and butter in a big ole pan. When the butter has melted, whack in the onion, parsnip and garlic and sauté. Keep stirring for 5 mins or so - until the parsnips have softened. You're not stirring - go do it, it's important. Anyway, you could do with the exercise and everyone knows cooking is better for you than all that pilates crap. I just don't get it, did Pontius Pilate make the first celebrity fitness video, or something? - Jesus Christ This Hurts - How to resurrect your body in forty days and forty nights. But I digress.

2. Add the garam masala and chilli powder and mix in (for about 30 secs). Add flour and mix in too (again about 30 secs)

3. Stir in the stock, some of the lemon rind and all the juice. Reduce heat and simmer for 20 mins, or so.

4. Take out some of the veg (just under half) with a big spoon with holes in it. Blend the remainder for a minute or so (or mash it if don't have a food processor! - you can then push it through a sieve with a wooden spoon to smooth it - yes, a fire guard would have the same effect too, but that is just stupid.)

5. Put the removed chunks back in the blended mix and heat for a couple of minutes to get piping hot. This bit is really clever. You'll have a nice textured soup and everyone will wonder why it is chunky too.

6. Serve! Whack on some salt and pepper and if you want to look really cool put some skinny strips of lemon rind on the top.

Tip 1: have the spices ready measured to go as they'll stick and burn if you take too long on step 2. Don't I know!
Tip 2: you have half a lemon left over. This is a perfect accompaniment to a large G + T - oh how convenient.

Next week on Cooking the Nathan way - um, probably beans on toast like last week?

Carminia Road

Harriet and I meet Claire at her residence in Balham. Claire is temporarily looking after the house belonging to the writer Terry Johnson.

We have a lovely meal, glasses of champagne from bottles left over fron New Year, and Claire, ever the actress, proceeds through her customary evening of costume changes. We undertake an impromptu photo shoot.

Ella's new guitar

Ella has a new guitar. It is bubblegum pink and she won't let anyone else play it!