Went to the 3rd Tuckshop with Henry on Thursday, to see The Sunshine Underground, Apartment, Marvin and the Gayes, and Yes Boss. 

“Two Leeds lads who are startling indie audiences everywhere with an crafty blend of sing-a-long choruses, interspersed with intelligent and witty white boy rap.”

I really wasn’t expecting to like these guys; the BBC description didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. “Intelligent and witty white boy rap” are words that don’t tend to go together that well.  Yes Boss were either going to be atrocious or awesome.  They turned out to be the latter.  Imagine a Leeds version of GLC.  But talented.  And actually funny.  Well worth seeing.  The vocalist seemed like a nice guy as well, and tried to buy some weed off Henry.

The first band were pretty good too.  Marvin and the Gayes.  When I say Marvin, you say Gaye.  Marvin.  Gaye.  Marvin.  Gaye.  Sounds crap, but it worked. Kinda like Bloc Party.  But with a bit of funk.  And a cool keyboard player.  Shame that the lovely Myspace people twats keep on deleting their profile as it contains the highly offensive word “gaye”…

The Sunshine Underground were headlining, and played pretty well.  Commercial Breakdown and I Ain’t Losing Any Sleep were the stand out tracks.  It seemed like I was the only guy in the audience who knew their music though, which was a little strange.  At the end of their set, they did a collaboration with Yes Boss, which was kinda cool.

Where the fuck were Apartment though?

Cutting two fuck ups out of my life is one of my better decisions.

One girl is now pregnant with a guy she’s known for 2 months.  It must have been true love, ever since they first stared into each other’s eyes, whilst she discretely removed her used tampon, and hid it behind his best mate’s sofa.  I feel sorry for the kid.

On Saturday I was grabbed and interrogated by an ex-mate’s step mum.  She seemed to have a theory that by using drunken emotional blackmail and a repetitive attritional style of questioning, I would be willing to be mates with him again.  More worrying was the fact that she was convinced that my life was in ruins following me cutting him out of my life.  I couldn’t be happier.  The guy’s a cunt.

I know a fair few of my non-fuck up mates (how’s that for a compliment!?) read this, so no idea what time or what exactly is going on as per usual, but I have a vague plan of having another BBQ this year on Flora day.  Unless it’s pissing down.  But fuck it, give me a bell / txt / whatever and we’ll sort something out.

Roll on The Sunshine Underground and Frank Turner.

If fate does exist,
then life’s little twists
are nothing more than
items on a list.

That is all.

From the country that brought you Gary Glitter and Jonathan King, it should be of no further surprise that this is our Eurovision entry.  Meet Daz Sampson.

Watch his video or even the live version (both safe for work)

Whoever thought that dressing a bunch of older girls to look pubescent and sound even younger, whilst dancing provocatively with a middle age Ian Huntley look-a-like, who looks more Gap than ghetto, was a good idea is either taking the piss or has some serious issues.

Has Chris Morris somehow rigged the voting? It’s scarily reminiscent of JL-B8’s “Your Little White Butt”.

Edit: Instead I shall be voting for Finland’s answer to Slipknot… (or maybe not at all)