I can't even think of a good title.

***NOTE***

I’m just saying for those couple of people who nagged me about posting, that I was so intent on getting this done for you that I wrote the first draft for this in the dentist waiting room on napkins from the water cooler. Trivia Ftw.

******

Not long ago, as I was eating bread incidentally, I heard a large crunch in my mouth. Naturally, being a man, I head eaten some glass, so I should do something about it quick. Happily however my mum stepped in as I was wrapping my mouth in tissues. That makes as much sense to me now as it does to you.

Turns out it was a chipped tooth. At first I didn’t worry: there would be a dentist appointment next week, it didn’t hurt and all would be well.

However as time wore on I grew worried. Since I had flu at the time, I was terrified the 2 were part of some horrible disease, like Ebola. I didn’t think it would be much fun to wake up without something I liked, my liver for example.

No worries. Reality soon stepping in and I was fine. So (nearly a week later) I was off to the dentist.

At first I thought it would be run like any other business. People don’t spend years and thousands of pounds training to be a dentist and then ruin it all by being an asshole. First impressions of the practice didn’t dissuade this either, with blue carpets, cream wallpaper and strange old people on the reception desk.

So it was with a sense of mild confidence I went up the stairs to find Mrs Burgess.

Mrs is the wrong word. You could find more feminity in the Minotaur and many more manners in General Wolfe. Needless to say, my sense of hope wasn’t so much quashed as had a stake driven in its heart.

Mr Burgess: Ok Luke. I want you to sit in the chair.

Me: Ok ( D: )

M.B: Now. When was the last time you visited the dentist?

Me: Umm, a while ago

M.B: specifically. How long?

Me: At least 2 years

M.B: (Makes note)

At this stage I was close to just living with a hole in my tooth and running for the hills. However chief comrade burgess’s psychic abilities were rehearsed well, and did a very good job of securing me into the chair.

C.C.B: Luke. I want you to put this in your mouth.

Me: ….what?

C.C.B: Bite down hard.

Then she said “O.K! Leave the room!” to my dad and her assistant and left me with this thing in my mouth that seemed to have 20 corners and no flats. When she came back in she turned the sharp thing around and did the whole thing again.

Whatever. Turns out that it was an X-Ray to find out where it was in my mouth that needed fixing. She could have just asked, but hey, you’ve got to make it seem like you were at least turning up to class at medical school.

But no matter. This would all be well in the long run. They would put the filling in and all would be well.

Well then they set to work on my mouth. I’m not sure what they were doing; I just remember a load of noise and a lot of pain. But after 10 minutes I had my filling.

Just kidding! What I actually had was an antiseptic coating for the tooth. Think of it as a dentist’s wet wipe. The actual filling will be done in 9 days.

Yes that’s when I’m writing this. Those days are up and I’ve just had the operation. Here goes.

I go up the stairs to find commissionar B-urg sitting at her desk.

C.B: Luke, I want you to lie on the chair. Close your eyes. You may feel a slight tingle in your cheek.

Slight tingle my arse. She seemed to not so much give me an injection as stick a whole fucking sword in my face. Anyway when I felt her move away I opened my eyes… Just as she was approaching with a 20CM LONG METAL SYRINGE IN HER HAND! I just closed my eyes and prayed.

C.B: That’s it Luke. Go downstairs and wait for it to numb.

Me: urghhhh

I staggered downstairs (downshtairz) and just stared at the wall for ten minutes. Then I was summoned back up.

C.B: O.K Luke. I’m about to do the filling.

Me: How long is this going to take?

C.B: A while. (Hands me yellow goggles). You’ll need these.

Then she reaches under her desk and pulls out a full fucking face mask. The type a spetznaz might wear to quash unruly activity in the gulag. Then her and her assistant spent about 15 minutes drilling and suctioning my mouth. I truly understand why nine year olds have such a fear of such places.

Anyway, there’s only enough space to say that the numbing took about 4 hours to wear off, by which time I still couldn’t stop pronouncing physics as “Physhix”. Also I have to stick my food in a blender for about a day. Joy. Nothing spells the end of a perfect day than drinking spaghetti bolognaise out of a mug. Thank you dentist. 

My Mind

Last week i was told that i disliked audio secrecy because "I don't like anything". Enraged by this, i decided to make a top 40 of things i love.

I abandoned this idea when i realized that big lists where fucking boring.

So i instead decided to do a "things in my head" skit. Enjoy

Take That's Newest Member

Every day we see pub lists on the internet and in newspapers. Dreamt up mostly because there was nothing else to put on page 17 of the local newspaper between the peril over the lack of grit and a closing of a pub nobodies ever heard of.

But if somebody was to create a list of metal’s greatest vocalists, there would be many to choose from. While you may scoff at the idea of “A SINGER??? In METAL???” they are very talented.

But back to the list. You would end up with a top 3 of Max Cavalera of Soulfly at 3, James Hetfield of Metallica at 2, and at 1, Corey Taylor of Slipknot and more recently, Stone Sour.

People say he’s a poser and slipknot is simply 30 year olds in Halloween masks. I agree with that last bit, but they still manage to make good music and Corey Taylor is the epicentre of that. That’s why I was so eager to hear his new album, Audio Secrecy.

Yes that’s what I’m going to do in this one, review it.

The first Stone Sour was a breakthrough. Diversity without selling out, anger without going too far. It was a masterpiece.

The second was good too. It was more of the same, with more diversity and less anger. However it was still incredible and allowed Corey to take up Stone Sour professionally.

Great. Except whatever he was doing on the other albums he damn well isn’t doing now. It all began with the Drums.

I mentioned earlier about Soulfly being a fantastic metal band. Mostly this was down to the vocals and brutal riffs, but the drums were a massive part. They managed to get this massive tribal edge as well as keeping the beat and propelling the song.

In short they were incredible. Roy Maygora coming to Stone Sour then would be a match made in heaven. Except Taylor seems to have programmed a commissionar armed with a pistol to stand over Maygora to punish any signs of creativity. This shows. While on “Come What(ever) May” he was able to come up with great beats to propel the song, he has obviously been unable to on this album.

Except for on “Hate Not Gone”. I don’t know what happened here. Maybe the commissionar buggered off for a fag. Perhaps Maygora had taken a large pound of cocaine. Whatever the cause, the effect is great. The drums are incredible.

Or perhaps the commissionar had to go and whip James root the guitarist. The commissionar has done well out of this album. Not only was he able to keep tabs on the drums, he also lorded over the guitars. They all sound the same.

Don’t get me wrong, there are incredible riffs on this album. But for the most part you have repetitiveness and backing. It’s good, it’s just boring. That’s really all you can say about it. Good but boring.

Now for the big one, judging Corey Taylor.

I want to point out my respect for Taylor is boundless. “The Rich Man” is one of my all time favourites. However, I know he can sometimes screw up. “Tattered and Torn” on “Slipknot” is as bland as any song I can think of with all the excitement of a potato. “Everything Ends” simply exploits every cliché I can possibly think of. I cannot listen to it without thinking about Clint Eastwood squinting.

But I never thought he had the power to muck up a whole album.

Unfortunately he has. He completely forgot to be a metal singer and decided that what he really wanted to do was be in Take That. Which is great if you’re Robbie Williams. Its not so great if you’re a metal icon.

Every song is a ballad. While people might point to Nylon 6/6 and Hate Not Gone, Taylor’s melodies turn it into a sing song suitable even for the slobbiest school play.

I can not even start as to how much he fucked over this album. It’s awful.

I really wanted to love this album. I was utterly captivated by the other two and wanted this one to match them. But ah it’s just rubbish .Skip this one.

3/10

Life on Mars

A couple of times ago I wrote about my adventure in Wandsworth Primark, the sorry story of Christmas shopping in Wandsworth. However, after I wrote that, I have felt guilty. Guilty that I have pored scorn over a small bit of Wandsworth in a shopping centre. But my guilt is less about my hatred of Primark, and more that I centred on it without mentioning the rest of the town.

Let’s start with the layout.

In the area where I live, roads are set out interestingly. There are bends, straights, corners and many variations upon a theme. None of these are in Wandsworth. Everything is set out in blocks. There is no rest, no change, its just squares everywhere.

You can go on Google earth and see for yourself. I tried to put pictures but Tumblr wouldn’t let me. Bastard.

Notice the difference. And despair.

Now for the people.

Commenting on other people is a touchy subject. While I do not want to start a war over these things, I really do have to get these facts out.

If you read the last one, you would know about the earing pillock with 2 earrings in 1 ear. Yet I suspect he is among the saner people in the population. Every person there seems to be either polish, a single mum, an ex convict, or someone kicked out of somewhere better for not paying the rent. I walked through the shopping centre and marveled at how everyone seemed to have tried really hard to make themselves as sub-normal as they possibly could. The shopping centre was called “southside”, because its in the south I presume, and it was full of everything the modern day thicko needs to survive. KFC, primark and a poundshop. While I know that most of the people reading this like these places, I’m pretty sure that they are not a crucial part of life. There are other places you can go, and you do. In wandsworth, people don’t.

Then theres the general feel of the place.

Walk down the road and there will be many small businesses. Fine. But in almost everywhere else in the country there will always be a HMV or some other chain to cancel these out.

This is no chance in wandsworth. Its like everyone from every council block simply poured out onto the street and made a company. And all of these companies look like someone threw a frag bomb into their shop window, which in wandsworth, is probably what happened.

Then theres the thousands of council blocks. Walk down any street you like and you will see at least 2 twenty storey buildings. Even southside is right next to one.

Even though I had extreme fear of getting my head chopped off, I decided to back these things up by exploring.

God I wish I hadn’t. Everywhere looked like someone had spent all their time to make it as easy as possible for spike and jedd to spring from the shadows with a big spiky knife. Theres also the look of it, chuck a frag grenade into a stank arabic cesspit and you get the idea. It was like the designer simply got his 3 year old kid to draw a house, then popped outside for a fag and hit the magic auto repeat and complete button. It all looks the goddamn same.

I loathed wandsworth. I have thought for a long time for a positive feature to say about it and I came up with nothing. It is a town so completely fucked that it has lost all redeaming features. Yes it has a low council tax, and that’s why it can’t afford anything. And for those of you who will inevitably call be a bigoted twat for saying these things, go check it out for yourselves, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if you don’t make it back. 

We've Run Out of Things To Cut! Hands Up For Taxes?

First The Times headline of the year: Charities seek bank bonus tax to ease cuts.

Catchy. But anyway as I read on it turns out that fat bankers with their second homes in Tuscany and Jaguar XJS’s are going to have their bonuses taxed. Which personally I think is a great idea; I can’t see why the useless fat people who got us into this horrible recession get paid extra for simply doing what they should be doing. So it’s undoubtedly right that they should have their bonuses taxed, rather than giving us cuts.

But of course it’s a government scheme, which means inevitably that its rubbish.

The rubbishness comes in the shape of charities. People who give up their jobs and slave away trying to help the unfortunate. The money will go to them.

Sound good? But the problem is how it gets to them. They have to “bid” for the grant, which makes NO SENSE. What’s a charity so penniless it needs a government grant supposed to bid with? Maybe I’ve got it wrong though. I remember a “Not the Nine O Clock News” sketch where there was a hospital bed auction: “We’re going to start the bidding at measles”. While I thought that it was a (quite funny) joke, someone in the government has taken it seriously. Spooky.

While its hard to predict the future, you can always be certain of some things. The sun will rise tomorrow. England will loose on penalties. The weather will be horrid. But what’s most obvious is what will happen if bankers are taxed. Last a year a similar scheme did a 50% tax on all bonuses above £25,000. It was all terribly noble and meant that £3 billion was raised. Except there was a side effect. The fat bankers (which is more of a spelling mistake than a profession) simply doubled their bonuses to compensate.

Where did that money come from? Yes that’s right, your pocket. So while this all seems good and noble, all its doing is pissing us off even more and stealing yet more of our money. Charity FTW.