The Times and Rhymes of Ryo7.

Ahhh.... Liam Fox.

The UK doesn't have a particularly good reputation when it comes down to people who call themselves Dr Fox. First up, there was the "DJ"/Presenter "Dr Fox", although I'd be interested to see exactly which degree and institutional body had that particular title bestowed upon him; possibly the same people who decided to call Gene Simmons of KISS "Dr. Love". This particular Dr Fox was thwarted by the UK satirist Chris Morris in his excellent Brass Eye series. In this specific episode, dealing with the way the media portrays and at the same time embellishes the delicate subject of paedophilia, Morris expertly got Dr Fox to state "Paedophiles have less genes than you and me. That's the facts. There's no real medical evidence for it, but it is scientific fact." I'd not be surprised if Dr Fox himself believed it; after all, he's no expert in the field, which these days, means you are completely at liberty to begin talking about stuff in the media. 

And On This Day ...

...Ryo7 got his MA, a full week after his good lady received her Part
II Architecture Diploma. We're both happy bunnies. And chubby bunnies
as a result of eating an EXCESSIVE amount of takeout in the last few
months

I've tried throughout this writing exercise, to refrain from talking
about St Martin's ID course, because anyone who is trying to find out
information about the course by googling "MA Inustrial Design" Central
Saint Martins etc etc aren't really the kind of people that should be
attending. Simply put, you have to go there and see it. No amount of
googling, blog reading, even catalogue reading can gear you up for the
experience of actually being on the course.

Teacher and workshop staff are great and I really do mean that.
However, the experience of knowing 24 other students from all walks of
life who all stay well above and beyond the call of duty to help you,
aide you and assist you whenever you fall down is simply bliss. I
can't stress enough that the selection of students each year are both
amazing and highly desirable. I'm glad to have been involved with such
a great year.

So, if you are a prospective student, come down, meet people, talk to
the tutors, get shown around - ask questions(!) I'm amazed by all the
greatness that the year has achieved and for that, they should be
proud. Even though I stressed myself out for pretty much all of the
year and there were plenty of times I thought I couldn't possibly go
on, I did and I got a good mark.

There are more adventures around every corner, but for now, I'm just
going to sit back and watch the horizon. With an iPhone 4.

April 2010 will forever be....

SHIT.

I've been wanting to write a maxi-rant about this month, but I
literally run out of energy every time I begin to lift my fingers over
the keyboard. Instead, they usually spell out the web address of a
well known porn site, it's weird.

First up, an update on my stolen laptop and prototype. This will just
sound like I made it up, so excuse me. I put an ad on gumtree asking
for my sketchbook and prototype back. And unbelievably, the thief
contacted me, asking for cash to give my stuff back. Of course, he
didn't want to meet up and said he would send it if I sent cash via
PayPal. Yeah. Right. He then also gave me the email address of the
person who he sold the laptop to. This turned out to be some innocent
student who was down in London visiting his folks for Easter and then
went back to his uni in Sheffield. The guy sold my laptop and external
HD for £400 to him. I offered to meet at a police station and buy it
back off him, but as it turned out, our knob jockey of a thief had
already wiped it. So it was useless.

AXA insurance were great in getting a payout, so I applaud them for
that. The Police were possibly the most useless I've ever seen of
them. They kept on saying "well, its a good thing you have insurance!"
like it was an advert slogan.

Anyway, onto the next thing.

I was invited to present some actual design work in San Francisco. Not
mine, but a colleague on the course. I was asked by my tutor to go. It
was in the middle of my own project, but I figured five days (sat-thu)
would be OK to miss. I'd got my prototype remade and at great expense
had also managed to get my components for my replacement prototypes.
So off we went to Palo Alto, did our presentations and got ready to
come back.

This is the part where I joke about how I would kind of like Iceland
to disappear right now.

Could this month get any worse? (PS My flight was due out on Thursday.
It's Saturday now and there's no hope until Tuesday it would appear).
And there's only so much in hotel porn you can watch.

God DAMN.

So the other day, I'm sat with a few mates at the Princess Louise pub. All is going well until I notice that out of the two bags I've bought with me, one of them is now no longer there. The one that contained my laptop, my backup hard disk and of course, my working design prototype. The prototype that I got working THAT day and hence, the main reason I was in the pub, celebrating this fact. 

Bag theft is hardly uncommon in any major city, but the sheer inconvenient timing has been enough to make me go one step from madness. The hand in for our design work is on the 28th April, which, at the time of writing is a mere 25 days away. My second bag luckily contained a backup circuit board I was using to test various inputs and outputs and now that will have to be used as my main prototype one.

Obviously, I cannot begin to say how pissed off I am. We also can't really work out when the bag was stolen as at least two people were at the table at any given time guarding stuff. I had gone to get drinks and go to the toilet at various points and the remaining people didn't see anyone go near the bag, which makes me think it was a total pro job. Regardless, the sheer amount of things you have to do after in terms of police reporting, working out what you've lost and the insurance forms are a fucking nightmare, especially when you add that onto the existing work I already have to do.

The one saving grace is that I had done a backup on my main computer fairly recently and this cannot be overstated. My backup hard disk was in the bag at the time of the theft so the immediate backup is gone forever. HOWEVER, I would strongly recommend either dropbox or getting a MobileMe account so you can use iDisk for backups. It's saved my arse this time.

The most annoying this isn't the loss of the laptop, which I loved dearly (a lovely Macbook Pro 13 inch, btw) but the working prototype. I had spent a month making that thing completely by hand and was super proud I'd got it working. The fact that I imagine the robber looked at it and thought it was just junk (and probably chucked it in a bin) crushes me. I know this is exactly what the robber wants and if he's reading, I hope you managed to trade the laptop for the required amount of lube you wanted to have proper anal sex with your mother. (By the way, just so you know, you can't actually make a baby that way.)

So, this update is just to let you know, I'm stressing away, starting again from scratch.

GRRRFUCK. 

Everyone in the UK is a Paedophile and Drug Taker. That's except for all the journalists.

Hi there,

Sorry I've been away. My day currently consists of getting up really
early, going to work/college/studios/wherever, then followed
immediately by going to work/college/studios/wherever, after which I
go to work/college/studios/wherever, followed by
work/college/studios/wherever. After I finish at 2:00am, I come home
and wank furiously into a picture of Gordon Brown's face, listening to
the Wurzel's "I've Got a Brand New Combine Harvester" on repeat and
crying. That makes my day complete. So it's fair to say, I didn't get
a good chance to update this thing here.

So, this is a bit of a rant about newspapers. Yes. Newspapers. Staring
at you everywhere with a moral high ground on everything. They're
better than you, because they report everything really quickly and
they have their names on papers and get paid for it and you are just a
nobody with nothing doing fuck all and reading about it. HAR. Yes. The
apper that supposedly speaks for the common man would be something
like the Sun or the Mirror, whose own political agendas change so much
you're never quite sure whether they're right wing or left wing from
one page to another. The Guardian is my preferred choice but that
would be the case for a "liberal lefty" like me, right? I suppose I'm
one of those people who thinks that all asylum seekers should be
allowed in and Islam should be the number one religion in the UK,
right? RIGHT?

Well no. I just like the Guardian because it has slightly better
supplementary material. And Charlie Brooker writes for them.

Truth be told, I don't usually give a shit about the news because it's
written and presented by cunts. Every single one of them. They never
portray themselves as such though, which is the basis of this whole
rant. A few days ago, I went out drinking with someone who bought a
journalist from a certain right wing paper with him. Now, I
systematically was born to hate the certain right wing paper with a
passion. It's gutter press at it's worst. Anyway, a few drinks with
this bloke and he started ratting off about how many drugs and drink
he's done. Chain smoking and drinking shitloads also seemed to be on
the menu. Now, personally, I don't give a shit whether you do drugs or
not. (All drugs should be legalised and taxed anyway. Then you get rid
of the crime subculture associated with it and the drug lords and
underground warlords would also disappear. But then the police
wouldn't have much to do. The whole narcotics wing would
disappear..... it's almost like the police WANT the illegality to stay
so they're in busines.... I'd better shut up now.) but the realisation
that this foul specimen would then go back to the papers and talk
about people who do drugs in a negative light really appalled me.

The other thing it got me thinking about is the whole Tiger Woods,
John Terry and, to a completely lesser extent, Vernon Kay. You see,
most of the public, when asked about what they thought of these
people's private lives in vox pops, didn't give a shit. Lots of people
said "If it doesn't effect his performance, I don't care". So why the
fuck does personal lives of sportsmen, which, by the way, is a REALLY
FUCKING STUPID THING TO WRITE ABOUT IN THE FIRST PLACE matter to the
higher ups? Why did Tiger's face fall of Gatorate when it was found
out he'd fucked more women than Ron Jeremy and Ben Dover combined?
(Now there's a sexy image). Why did John Terry get fired? It has
nothing to do with their sporting prowess in the first place. That
said, it was worth seeing Vernon snivelling around and apologising to
his airhead lady about sending texts to... ANOTHER airhead lady. But
that's only because he's a twat in the first place.

In some weird way, the papers are painting this bizarre moral
scripture to which a lot of the sheep in the UK happily subscribe to.
In a way, I'm glad about it. The overall message of "cheating on your
wife is a bad thing and YOU WILL LOSE YOUR JOB/Sponsorship (if
applicable)" is, in fact, no bad thing. You see, the formula for
making people care is making sure the person in question is a TV or
sports star. Then you can get them out of a job. If Gordon Brown was a
golfer as well as being PM, a few lines about how he's been shagging
behind Sarah's back (actually, behind someones back is technically in
front of them, isn't it?) and he'd be forced to resign.

Of course, as a disclaimer, I would just like to say that at no point
in the UK's history has a journalist EVER, and I repeat EVER:

1) Had an alcoholic beverage to the point of excess, so much so to be
called an alcoholic.
2) Smoked a cigarette.
3) Hit anyone.
4) Not paid tax or a TV License.
5) Smoked a "jazz cigarette"
6) Taken ANY sort of drugs.
7) Downloaded or shared music.
8) Downloaded or shared a film.
9) Had sex before marriage.
10) Participated in any sexual behaviour other than marrying a good
Christian woman and having sex once for the purposes of conceiving a
child.
11) Hired a prostitute.
12) Downloaded mindbendingly degrading hardcore belgian pornography.
13) Been a racist.
14) Been a sexist.
15) Gone over 30 in a 30 mph zone.

I could go on, but the saintly face of Quentin Letts staring from a
copy of the Daily Mail used as a liner for a carton of kebab meat and
chips is just so bright, I need to spunk on his face RIGHT NOW.

iPaaaaaaadddddddddddddddddz

Hello, Chuffbots!

I've just got to start with this; have a look at Chris Morris's trailer for this new film he's doing called "Four Lions". Brilliant stuff. Can't wait for it.

Now, on to the news! I got rejected from a certain scholarship that allows you to go to Japan and study the language and work really hard in a placement of your choice. In spite of getting solid references from my workplace, college and Sony Computer Entertainment and outlining a plan for the future that would have made the five year plan look like.... well... a one year plan, they felt that the sheer fact that I was from a University of the Arts College, my name didn't have the word "Lord" or "Sir" in front of it and the fact that I wasn't Oxbridge-educated didn't fit well with their brochure (as in, I'd make the alumni look and smell of working class and that simply can't be done). So, it was a flat out rejection without so much as a reason why. Apart from the aforementioned ones, obviously. I'd love to be bitter, but all I'm going to do is set up a foundation that does the same as these people and then systematically embarrass them instead. As I said, not bitter. 

ahem.

I want to talk a little bit about the iPad. There's not much I can say that hasn't already been said in better blogs with more readers than this one. It's a well designed object that looks gorgeous. I could state how I'm a little disappointed that it doesn't run OSX, thus making the modbook a little more desirable, or how it doesn't take a stylus input, although that doesn't really matter anyway. So, what about it? What's the mac-loving Ryosan take on it?

Well, I gotta say I'm looking forward to buying one. 

But not for me. It's for my parents. 

You see, my parents are scared of computers in the sense that the grey box in the "computer room", as they call it, is just that; a grey box that means nothing to them. It just stares at them with it's weird little peripherals, staring at them like some sort of bizarre art piece in a Lego version of the Tate Modern. Every now and then I get a call from my mother, who is worried that she highlighted a whole row in Excel and doesn't know how to just get back to highlighting one cell. THE FOOL! No seriously, I understand her plight. Computers and interfaces have built on previous systems that were simpler and grounded in real life analogue paper systems. The terms we use now might just scare people off. 

Indeed, I spent most of my time during the Apple Keynote Presentation (TM) flicking between engadgets coverage and a 3D rendering I was doing. The device itself hadn't bothered me much and the keynote itself lacked some bite. (By the way, I HATE HATE HATE the way Steve Jobs says the word "and". It's "AND" not "aaaaayyyyyyaaaaaaaaaanddd") Watching Jobs browse through three different websites as he checked them out on the device, whilst sitting in a leather couch was as boring as, well, watching the head of Apple browse through websites. 

Then they showed iWork. 

And then they showed this picture. 

At that point, my eyes lit up and I stood up, almost shouting "ENGLAND" really loudly into a bag of chips. That's how excited I was. For me, the iPad is the ultimate work mobile kit. A full size keyboard attached to that thing is simply the level of computer that my parents need. Seeing a really stripped down word, powerpoint and excel equivalent (and Mr Jobs told a sneering Walt Mossberg that it would export to DOC/XLSXXX/PPPTEPEPSFJSRPOJXXX file formats), I realised that not using the mouse and using the fingers would really appeal to my folks, who come from the era of doing things by hand. They way of doing layout in Pages as well as doing Excel sheets in numbers seemed more intuitive and stripped down to the bare essentials than anything I've seen done. In fact, why doesn't MS release a BASIC OFFICE package, (they could call it the "super lite post millennium" edition) with just core functionality expressed in nice big icons so even a computer dunce can run it?  

I think they launched it wrong. They should have made it a little more focussed. I understand the benefit of doing a whole "It's what YOU want it to be" kind of presentation, but seriously, a "This the iPad, it's your whole office on the go, wirelessly connected to anywhere in the world and all you touchscreen haters can shove a fucking mini keyboard on it and type with your tactile feedback intact. SO THERE".

If this is the thing that brings Keynote mainstream, then HURRAH. Nothing is worse that watching a Powerpoint presentation after you've run a single presentation in Keynote. Obviously the haters will hate it, the fanboys will dig it and everyone will want to play on it at least once. I'm still on the fence about whether I want it. I'm about to upgrade to a 32GB 3GS and I've got used to the screen. 

That said though, if that keyboard dock works with the iPhone I think we may have a contender of USEFUL THING OF THE YEARZ. 

Fashion. F-F-F-F-F-F-ashion.

So..... sometime last year I decided I would just start wearing the same clothes every day. Not literally the same clothes, that would just be unhygenic and I'd be like that meme thats currently doing the rounds with that women who has loads of flies on her ass sweat patch on her trousers. I bought like 50 of the same top and jeans. The hardest part for me was finding an outfit that would work with my usual look, fit the occasional "smart" requirement, which sometimes happens, believe it or not, and also just be "me". 

Once I'd decided on it, it was a lot easier than I thought to actually do and keep it going. It's ridiculously easy to be honest and I was wondering why I hadn't done it before. I don't stare at a wardrobe now, looking for things to wear and I know exactly what to get in stores. It's simply just, top, jeans, jacket. Easy as. 

The funny thing is, no one really recognises it at all and I put that down to good selection. It's natural enough that no one has ever commented on the fact that I've work the same outfit to practically everywhere. 

OK, there are a few exceptions, socks, shoes and underwear. It's fair to say that the underwear has to change everyday (or twice daily depending on how OCD I'm feeling). Same with socks. Shoes I kinda choose the moment. If it's freezing, like it currently is, it's not really practical to wear flip flops or something. 

Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm writing this, I think I'm just supremely tired. 

We Love You Peter

I'm beginning to think that no one actually likes Peter Mandelson. His
workmates bitch about him to the press, the press have demonised him
quite sufficiently, bloggers despise him. I imagine that even the man
himself gets up in the morning, looks in the mirror in the bathroom
and gurns in disgust at the image staring back at him before realising
that it is, in fact, himself. Personally, I imagine Mandelson's life
is actually quite boring. He probably fights for the duvet with his
boyfriend. He probably gets stuck in traffic, burns his toast and has
to go through mind numbing policies just for the amusement of the
British public who, in return, spend most of their days bitching about
their policies and talking about how the BNP should get into power. As
a matter of fact, would you like to do his job? Would you? Would you?
WOULD YOU?!!!1

Well, my answer, for now, is yes. I would. Because recently I've been
reading a lot about "Digital Britain." Now, first up, off the bat,
"Digital Britain" sounds like a horrible website that would have been
made sometime around 1996, with Comic Sans for a font and "Aqua Blue"
for a background, with a midi music file of the "Saved by the Bell"
theme tune playing over and over again. The criticisms that Brown & Co
are "analogue politician(s) stuck in a digital age" have never wrung
more true with the title alone. Remember this? Peter's
already stuck his big balls (and presumably his forever flaccid,
wrinkled cock) out to the public with his proposed harsh prison
sentences and public beheadings for "file sharing" (and I place those
words in inverted commas, because that's how I imagine he says it,
with fingers) which have gone down well. The problem is Peter, is you made those comments
after you'd revealed you'd been on a holiday with David Geffen, one of
the bigwig fat cats of the music industry. This, in itself, just gives
the image that yet again, you're just another slimeball politician who
will take the opinion of one rich man over the voices of everyone
else.

Yes. I know file sharing is illegal. And hell, I don't really do it
much (thanks to the fact I have an iTunes US account and a seemingly
never ending supply of iTunes vouchers thanks to "the music
industry"). But Mandelson's approach simply shows a one sided argument
that's from a guy who is losing the cash from it. It's all rather
pathetic, especially since even though I am a musician who makes money
from record sales, I prefer getting cash to play live. For me, the
whole change in the music industry since Napster etc, is great. Not
only does it mean labels won't sign shite like "Travis" or the
"Stereophonics" because they won't allow them to waste time in the
studio because they won't be bankable. Instead, innovative musicians
who play excellently live will record on the cheap (all of my bands
tracks were done in my home studio, which most people don't believe)
and let their performances shine and will allow themselves to be
jetted around the world in a plane specially made from cocaine. It's a
dream come true. Bands who have the energy to play live and wish to
tour or gig regularly will be the only ones who flourish. Just like
the old days.

So, I want to like you Peter, I DO. I REALLY DO. I want to be the
bloke at a dinner party who actually can legitimately rub the smile
off a Tory-boy's face by trumping him with something good you've done.
But you're not giving me much ammunition.

One from the archives...

Hurrah and a Merry Christmas HO HO HO to all of you and H-H-H-aappy New Year. Rargh. What will the next decade bring from all good men and women? I have no idea, but as we enter the "tennies", as complete morons are referring to the decade, I expect it'll be all shits and giggles. HALLO NEW YEAR. 

Now, recently, I've been paying a lot of attention on doing gigs with my band and working with some amazing musicians. I had about half a year out of the game to focus on study, but now I realise I can juggle both fairly well anyway, so it seemed the right time to get back into it now I've settled. I'm not going to say who, but I've had the chance to work with some amazingly talented people over the years, some of which you'd be surprised who they are. I owe a lot of it to luck, but some other talented people, like the people who run this, for example. Them and a bunch of other contacts allowed me to meet people who have taken me as places as diverse as LA, Tokyo and various other amazing cities for the purposes of hearing me play the drums. 

About two years ago, I was in a fairly prominent band as a sessionist, making TV appearances left, right and centre. I'm not a publicity craving animal (I mean, look at how many people read my blog. Really), but somehow, my email got passed on to a young hopeful who was starting out and wanted some tips. I responded in earnest telling him what to do, but then, my "comedy" side got the better of me, and it sprang into this surrealist nonsense. I only post it now, because it's really come true. 

It's a pretty tough question as the industry isn't exactly what it used to be, what with the NME being the primary music mag that stirs up drama and is actually quite poor but still people buy it cos of the name etc. Decent music mags tend to disappear to the internet fairly quickly or they have a large price tag. It's a tough one. It used to be auditions and stuff and then one of the members of your band would have the talent and view that would carry the rest of them with them into superstardom. 

Nowadays, I'd say, get an image and a concept before you actually write some songs. The thinner, but more visually appealing, the concept and you are, the better. Then spend about two weeks rehearsing but in those two weeks, get yourself in with a club promoter who puts on some nights and knows this A&R from 'Cuntface records' who's really in with 'FuckMySister' Music Mag, based in Shoreditch. Once that's done, spend the rehearsal time working out a fancy logo for your band and telling all your friends about your gig thats happening with a support slot for Wankoff, playing at 'IncestGraveyard', the night that happens on Brick Lane. Setup a myspace page with no actual tracks on it but make the list of influences as big as the internet. Then, spend most of the actual gig pulling off poses and not actually playing that much music, cos you can always leave that to the one actual musician in the band, who inevitably there always is.

Eventually you'll find that you can do a seven inch within a week on 'PissChips', the imprint label of MAJOR LABEL based near Old Street. They'll say that your unique blend of retropop and noiserock is completely reviving the British X band from 199x who were on a soundtrack to that indie American film last year. Of course the music press goes mental, AnalProbe calls it a "return to true form for UK music", while HotBovril calls you the best new band EVER in the history of ever. Cue the aforementioned NME to come and stir up drama of you hitting everyone in the crowd at the now legendary gig, that only four people actually came to but there was a power surge creating a bit of drama with the lighting rig that night. Doesn't matter though because word spreads like Gary Glitter at a maternity ward that in the space of a twenty minute gig you trashed the stage, set fire to the whole building, sacrificed a virgin, killed fourteen policeman but rebuilt the whole place in time for the next act.

Cue now major label interest due to the hypeometer going into spazz mode over how "great" you are. Frederick Ponsenby Smythe, A&R for Loaded Records in NUUUUUU York signs you on the spot with a pen made with Nazi gold and a Chequebook coated in panda's fur. Zippy McArseHole on Radio Won plays your track endlessly so much so that passer-by tourists think it's the new National Anthem. Eventually thousands of people pay 50,60,70 quid, wait for five hours and see you play for five minutes with no encores. And why should you? You've got US tours booked, lots of cash, a supermodel girlfriend who's IQ's lower than a lava lamp, a coffee table with the Live Aid logo written out full in cocaine and lots of fashion shoots in BitchTits mag, who cares about the music eh? EH? EH?

A lot of my friends are in amazing bands, including some of the ones I've played with, and they don't adhere to these rules. Hence the reason in spite of them being signed to fairly prominent indie labels (and in a couple of cases a pretty good major label) you'll never hear of them because, oooh I dunno, they spend ages on the craft of their music and progressing themselves as artists as opposed to playing up to Sally Twatface's 200-word column in FuckMyDeadDodo magazine.

I leave you with this little nugget of text from an actual review from the Sunday Times. 

"Back in 1976, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore presented Peel with the Melody Maker "disc jockey of the year" award. Now all four are gone, and we miss them all."

(cue sounds of a million web pages opening up to go to wikipedia)

 

Happy new year folks! Enjoy the "tennies". (Ugh.)

"Should I be dancing to this?" Girl!

I'm going to start a graphic novel this festive season, I've decided.
For you number of growing loyal readers, all two of you, i've decided
to share the news with you first. Not even my nearest and dearest know
about this, well, my nearest does but she might not be my dearest...

Actually she is so scratch that line.

It's called "Should I be dancing to this? Girl", which follows the
prefix-suffix pattern of Bat-man and Paedo-phile. The story is based
in Hoxton and is based on a girl who I may or may not have shared a
house with in the past.

SIBDTTG may or may not have been the most annoying high pitched
squeaky twatface I ever encountered in my whole first year in London.
She was more than aware of my existence there as she would always cry
or moan or act like a general spoilt tard and for some reason, more
than once, I'd be the one that would end up having to console her or
be her shoulder to cry on as most of my other friends had given up or
simply weren't around. Most of the other people I encountered who had
the general misfortune to meet her, my good lady included, would share
similar, but mainly stronger feelings of hatred.

In spite of being a complete tool, she always seemed to attract rather
intelligent men who would slobber over her. In fact, a mutual friend
of me and my m'lady's (we went to different schools) went out with her
and he's REALLY clever. Anyway, after uni I thought I might not see
her again, but sadly she infiltrated my group of musician friends by
becoming a total wanky scenester, claiming to love bands she'd heard
about five seconds ago, or making it appear that she was somewhat more
credible than she was.

I was extremely pissed off when she met my lady a few years later and
referred to me as "that boy" as if she didn't know who I was.

This came to a rather hilarious conclusion at the ATP festival just
gone where I bumped into her. After pretending not to know who I was
for a bit, she eventually wondered over where I was standing with a
band who is quite fashionable at the moment. She said "I can't wait to
see Slowdive!".

I responded "You mean Swervedriver. And they played an hour ago."

FIRST ISSUE : SIBDTTG goes to an opening of a Hoxton art gallery, gets
pissed and asks for the second half of "Teenage Riot" to be on the
decks REALLY LOUDLY!!!!

----------------
I'm currently talking to you from space.