Another one bites the dust

9:57 pm : Tuesday, 28 July 2020  |  , ,


I have never been a fan of Wiley - or indeed of any grime artist. To me, he was just that bloke who did a track in 2009 entitled Wearing My Rolex. Not a person I've ever given much thought to, though I somehow had about twelve of his songs in my DJ music collection - either his or through collaborations. Maybe they got played in the past, maybe they did not.

This week saw that change. Anything of his was promptly removed from the collection. It is a fate that has befallen the likes of R Kelly and Chris Brown. I don't consider myself a censorious old b@st@rd, but I don't really want to promote the music of people who have actively caused harm. Jonathan King and Gary Glitter also have no place in the collection. Michael Jackson, however, remains innocent in my eyes. And in the eyes of so many others. In fact, only once (in 2003) have I had someone come up and say: "Oi don't play Michael Jackson, he's a pervert!" I promptly told that person to p*ss off and stop telling lies.

So where do we stand on Elvis Presley? It has been stated many a time that he had dalliances with females as young as 14. Apparently we should stop romanticising him and start acknowledging him for what he actually was - a paedophile and a rapist. So what do I tell the VERY MANY older people who continue to request his music? Do I seriously tell the old dear in her seventies: "Sorry, I don't play music by paedophiles"? I know it would be the "woke" thing to do, but that generation are not going to disown The King™ just like that! Some things just do not come easy. It is with heavy heart that I will continue to play The Great Burger Muncher™ for the older listener.

For the record, I also avoid Blurred Lines, with it's ignorant, mocking refrain of "I know you want it!" In fact I don't just avoid it - I don't possess it. You cannot play what you do not have!

Still not forgotten

10:36 pm : Thursday, 23 July 2020  |  


Nine years have passed since our Amy died. A waste of an enormous talent. Another admission to the infamous 27 Club. But that is what happens when you abuse alcohol. My dad's use of alcohol taught me that. Too much of it just wrecks you, and I can't say I was not concerned about it when she was still alive. She was more or less on a path to self-destruction. Something that was not helped by that arse of a husband she chose. I know love is blind, but he was trouble from the word go. Still it was her choice to go with him.

Tonight the vinyl copy of Back To Black came out of its sleeve, and allowed us to swim in the musical chocolate that she and her comrades committed to tape. Her memory will never fade. Her music will live on and shine beautifully. God rest Amy.

I'm at a payphone

12:31 am : Wednesday, 22 July 2020  |  ,


I put some DJ equipment up for sale on Facebook Marketplace recently. In return I asked for a not unreasonable sum. Later on that day, a man contacts me and says: "U want Samsung S6?" In other words, he wanted my equipment but did not want to hand over any actual money for it, and thought I would be willing to accept an old smartphone instead. I responded with a polite "No thank you", thinking this would be the end of it. No chance of that! He then replies with: "OK how about S7?" and sends me pictures of said mobile phone! Needless to say, I blocked the guy. He with no actual money to impart may kindly bog off.

I was then presented with a question - when did smartphones become legal tender? I know there was an advert where a guy in Prague swapped his Levi 501's for a Trabant, but I would rather realise some cash, if that is at all possible! I really was shocked and stunned. I then decided to edit the advert, and tacked the following notice at the bottom: "I will only accept cash - not mobile phones!" That I actually have to put such a disclaimer in an advert is depressing. Come on!


Hee teacheth od fellowes play tricks with their creditors, who instead of payments write IOV, and so scoffe many an honest man out of his goods.

Still, it kind of adds a new meaning to the word payphone.

Stone free

9:38 am : Saturday, 4 July 2020  |  ,


It's weight loss time once again. A couple of weeks ago I weighed myself, and the verdict was: 21 stone and 7 pounds. For American viewers that's 301 pounds, and if you are European you can read it as 136.5 kilos. This is my heaviest weight ever. Add to this mix two arthritic knees and two arthritic big toe joints, and a dose of lower back pain, and it is a true recipe for bad living! The age of 50 is not too far away, and I do have this desire to live beyond 57, which is the age my dad died.

Week one I managed to lose four pounds by restricting what I eat, while week two has seen a further seven pounds shifted. This was achieved by drinking nothing but water. A bloody hard thing to do. Fizzy drinks - even without the sugar - are damn yummy! And energy drinks? Well I enjoyed them a little too much. I know I have a full-time job as a carer to my partner, but is that really a reason for inhaling a litre of Red Terror each and every day? By having a minimum of three litres of water a day, something seems to have changed. The reading is now: 20 stone and 10 pounds (290 pounds / 131.5 kilos).

How did it ever get to this? Back in 2007 I was a thoroughly decent eleven stone, and had energy aplenty. Living as I did in London, I would walk for two hours a day, which was just as well as my eating was not small portioned. Then arthritis and back pain started to rear their damned heads, and my movement was becoming restricted. Weight would then start to pile on at the rate of probably a stone a year. Where once I was svelte, I was now a colossal avalanche. And once the weight goes on, movement only becomes more restricted.

An old school friend died last month, and while he appeared to live a hedonistic lifestyle, it was a reminder for some of us to buck up and make some kind of change. Bad health does not come with any reward. Whether I make it back to eleven stone remains to be seen. There is no fun to be had in looking like a sack of spuds.