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Karaoking and Joking
The last show saw an attempt by Russell and Chrissie Hynde (lead singer of the Pretenders) to do a live Karaoke version of "Islands in the Stream" for our listening pleasure. What started off as a fun sing-a-long, turned into pure comedy when they started bickering at each other to "do it properly". Now I can make no claims myself on being able to touch (let alone hold) a note but I do understand the appeal of karaoke.
Deep down we all envision ourselves as Rock stars, MC's, crooners and funkateers. Upon hearing the right song, who hasn't grabbed the nearest roll on/clothes brush/light saber and sang their heart out when no-one's around? Karaoke taps into the performer in all of us,that little tiny voice that dreams of being heard.
It was three such voices in the forms of Russell, Jonathan Ross and David Walliams who decided, against better judgement, to go up on stage at a Morrissey concert and inform the crowd that the gig was cancelled due to Moz falling ill. Needless to say, the reaction was understandably far from pleasant. Luckily there wasn't a Karaoke machine available, otherwise someone may well have been enticed to perform a rendition of "I will Survive!".
"C'mon guys, let's do it Properly!!!"
"At first I was afraid.... I was petrified...."
Free Billy
Much like cracks in the pavement,
Serenade the retracing of familiar steps,
Onto unfamiliar stages, knowing full well the wages,
Of a misplaced proclaiment is a well-placed regret,
Swept up in Bros-mania, or trapped in X-Box insania,
Are they "Jesters of malice" or messengers tragic?
Assisting the magic to explain the rouge of all traders.
Extensions in vain are but screaming islands who blame,
The streams and estuaries for the mess we see,
Karaoking and Joking, except during sex you see,
So as mother and daughter are escorted to the land with no name,
Hey, don't hate the players... just hate the game!
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Living La Vida "Bagpuss"
It was really interesting to hear Oliver Postgate (one of the co-creators of Bagpuss) call in and speak to Russell about the making of the show. Recently we've been revisiting our childhood and watching several old episodes, remarking on how different and surreal Bagpuss's whole world seems to be when viewed through adult eyes. As a child I used to really like the mice because they were just always so enthusiastic about anything that Emily ever brought into the shop. Professor Yaffle however, just came across as this stupid big kill-joy who rained on everyone's parade. I remember praying that someone would just come into the shop and buy him so that he could get lost.
Watching it as an adult though, it appears that the tables have now turned amidst the furniture of my perspective's living room. Professor Yaffle seems to be redeemed in my eyes as the only voice of reason. Deep down, I think that Yaffle was worried about the marketability of Emily's offerings and their resale value. While everyone else is singing songs and rejoicing about old shoes, Yaffle was concerned with how they were going to pay the rent. He knew that it would be difficult for a doll, a toad, a woodpecker and some mice to find jobs if the shop closed down.
But the ultimate star of the show is still Bagpuss who I found myself envying. Here's a guy who runs his own business, hangs with his friends all day and nods off to sleep when he wants to and despite all this, his girl still loves him.... What a Don, he must be doing something right!
Last of the Summer Tit-Milk
In a realm where old friends tend to greet,
Shoulders are bumped thrice indiscreet,
Co-host and poet take seats,
Awaiting for Yaffle to speak,
Who's in the bag?... take a peak,
As Topsy's dropped with a squeak,
Maybe the mice can fix nanna's pipes..
..with some thera-pubic treats,
Bringing "flapdoodle", "droppings" and "drat" back into our lives,
Genically speaking, Pin-Pin is reaching a new millenium "Hi",
As McKenna hypnotises, Alan Carr swans along for the ride,
Sounds like someone's noshing off Compo with a full plate and a smile!
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MattMoe's
Well, we're back from our lil' excursion on the Isle of Wight. It's been a fun-filled couple of days involving: clay pigeon shooting, horse riding, darts, table tennis, water volleyball and of course... Bagpuss! There was about a dozen of us in all but with the paparazzi parked right outside every morning, noon and night, we spent most of our time hanging around the house.
Under such circumstances it's interesting to see how different personalities emerge. Russell originally fancied himself as the Lord of the Manor but soon transmorphed into a watchful Grandad, wagging his finger and tutting away at any juvenile behaviour (which seemed to occur in abundance).
Matt became the full-time barman at the in-house bar (which he christened "MattMoe's"). Many a fun night was had at MattMoe's, there was after-hours drinking, card games, music playing and dancing. Even David Icke turned up to watch the football and "beat around the Bush".
As for me? I became fixated in inventing new games to play on the snooker table. One of them was highly complex and involved the intricate placing of small statues and ornaments near the cushions. I hadn't fully worked out the rules but it had a lot of potential, that is until Grandad wagged his finger!
Island life
They say that no man is an island except within the streams of their minds,
From extinguished fires to undistinguished desires, yet it would seem that you'll find,
But if we could climb every mountain and take a sip from the fountain,
Of power that devours, we'll just have a new king who'll start shouting,
We're going down the "wrong road", so let's all go down to MattMoe's,
It's a quiet little place, until the owner's shot-gun unloads,
Water surrounds us, confuses and confounds us,
Containing both the tranquility of peace or of a storm that astounds us,
Reuniting back to the Soul,
Reuniting the Icke-Dyke patrol,
Evolving a gallop from a canter to break all forms of control.
Sometimes I'm inclined to believe this show is but a jumbled-up dream,
Maybe this world will all start to make sense when Bagpuss awakes from his sleep!
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If you wanna be the best
Well it's now the New Year! So there are new boots, new(ish) jingles and the fresh crispy new winds of 2008 are now blowing around town. Considering that last week everybody was feeling a little under the weather. This week, Russ and Matt seemed decidedly determined to kick off the New Year in style... by attempting to get into the Guinness Book of World Records. Who needs diluted resolutions anyway? they're for wimps, half-steppers and part-time jedis... you need to go for the number one spot baby! You see, after many years of watching "Record Breakers" on the telly, I've learned one thing: a fancy trumpet solo and a catchy song are all that you need to succeed in life (hmmm... wait-a-minute, that's two things!).
Anyway, it was time to give the "Banana Scoffing", "Speed Reading" and "Whoopee Cushion Utilisation" records a good run for their money. But alas, the elusive goal of victory still evaded us like that special "50% off" January sales bargain. Valiant as ever, we're going to give it another bash and at least try to break one record in order to show that we've got some "dedication" (nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more!). So send in your suggestions and ideas for different ways that we can get into the book (preferably ones that don't involve bananas!).
For the next show, we'll be live from the Isle of Wight, visiting David Icke with more interesting delights for Saturday Night!
Stormy Weather
If the Winds were to call up and request a small order of caution,
Surely with "Dancing Caberet Monkeys", we'd be obliged to lauch them a portion,
If the clouds could text an invitation to your dreams,
Would you project to break records for the bananas you eat?
To be or not to be.... guilty of "buckle envy"
Uncle U.F.O. was impressed you know by a quick Hamlet soliloquy,
There's been no Whoopee Cushion filling, but new jingles are jingling,
And David Icke says what he likes, with revolutionary thinking,
If the rain were to e-mail in an attempt to hail,
Us all as successes, yet sometimes we fail,
Matt's razor's been trimming,
Wogan's now squinting,
You've been listening to Russell Brand: the original "Tit-Milk" victim!
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Forwards...
Yes I know... I'd have to agree, it was a very strange little show that we ended the year with even by our standards! Not so much your regular cosy end-of-year radio chit-chat, more like a series of delerious "fever-induced" outbursts courtesy of Mr Brand to bring 2007 to a fascinating close. To be honest, the show almost didn't happen. Russell and Matt were both feeling ill and looked worse for wear. They decided (last minute) to go ahead into the studio and just see how it goes, "Forwards ever, backwards never" so to speak.
I can't quite pin point the origin of that phrase, but it became sort of a mantra that me and Russell usually exchange before many of our live shows (this goes way back to when we used to perform in little pubs and bars). I googled it today and found out that it was also used as a rallying cry by a Caribbean revolutionary called Maurice Bishop... (there goes my claims on its originality, ah well at least we're in good company!)
Back to the show, I think that things started to take a peculiar turn when Jo Brand called in to explain that she gave Russell up for adoption so that she could buy some cigarettes. After finding out that he was abandoned by his comedic namesake for a pack of 20, normality seemed to just fly out the window! In many ways, Russell's behaviour was much like a metaphor for the end of December: poor and sickly, sprawled out on his back, coughing and spluttering his last few surreal gasps as 2008 waited by the door to greet him.
It was an eventful show and it's been an eventful year. thanks for listening and putting up with our madness. See you when the year's new.
The End of Time
Take a peer inside a magical crystal ball,
As December's swept aside and January greets us all,
From a murder mystery to flirting with a beard of bees,
To hanging out with monkey chums alone on New Year's Eve,
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
We reminisce on the keys to departed locks,
Sailed the seven seas with lazy birds on the dock,
Drift towards insanity as the Old Year shuts up shop,
As an upright beginning evolves into the horizontal,
But the New Year brings: new cheer, new cuddles, new fondles,
Remember to endeavour, whatever the weather,
In 2008, it's still "Forwards Ever, Backwards Never"
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Home is where the heart is
Apologies for the lack of blog-age, things have been a little hectic this month. Russell's been live touring, book-promoting, monarchy meeting, movie premiering and appearing all over the shop recently. I must say, it's been great for us to get out and go up and down the country meeting so many fans of the show. It still never ceases to amaze me just how far our little two-hours of radio mayhem reaches.
With all these ubiquitous non-stop pressing engagements, it made sense to hold the Christmas show at Russell's house and just invite everyone else down. The atmosphere was chilled out, the decorations were up and with the wonderful sound of the gospel group Hot Butter Soul (featuring the amazing beatbox talents of Lianhart) it just set the perfect yuletide mood. You can tell that I'm getting all Christmasy can't you? Not even a cheap mistletoe or shepherd/sheep joke in sight!
Enjoy the festive season with your family and your loved ones.
(Pin pin!)
A Picture of Hope
T'was the night before the night before the night before Christmas,
Russ and Matt attacked the stores excited for their special wish-list,
Up merrily on high, where ding chases dong,
We three kings are seeking to reverse "pin-pin"...
...but then again, I could be wrong.
So Come all ye faithful and help yourselves to a plateful,
Or Matt's murder mystery where cider gets killed by the crateful,
So grateful are we that the soul is completely "Hot Butter"
and "Lianhart's" on time as he flirtatiously flutters,
Amidst the clutter of Brand Towers we bring you this Christmas show,
With bears, whips and frogs aroused, "Roy Tund's" down below,
So rest ye merry gentlemen, while Hope's picture unfurls,
Put a wee message in a bottle and bring joy to the world.
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