Everyone at some point wants to be in a band; it may be when they’re 15 and playing air guitar in front of the mirror whilst discovering Hendrix, or when they’re 30 and they’ve realised their youth has passed them by, or 50 and still believing they have must have some kind of deeper purpose in life and that purpose may well be music. I don’t believe there is anybody, no matter of their age, gender, job or class, who hasn’t wanted to be pop star, rock star or badass band member. If there is somebody, I wouldn’t want to know them. Continue reading “Queens of The Stone Age: Get Drunk, Get Laid & F**king Do Cool Sh*t”
Jack White’s music has varied between rock, folk, experimental and alternative, but the roots of it lie in blues. He has admitted that in 1999, after The White Stripes’ first album release, he made it his mission to modernise the blues and continue the blues legacy into a new century. Perhaps it is down to the way in which White incorporates several different genres of music into his sound that makes his version of the blues popular, or perhaps it is simply because he himself – exotic yet homely, gothic yet traditional – is strange and interesting enough to make people want to listen. Either way, he’s worth $30million; we must assume that he has sold plenty of records and that people across the world are enjoying his modern take on the blues. Continue reading “Jack White: 21st Century Bluesman”
People told me my fear of boats was an irrational one. I said one word and one word only to these people; Ti-Fucking-Tanic.
The very premise of boats is, to me, ridiculous. They are made of metal. And they’re supposed to float. I’ll admit I’m not big on physics, but common sense tells me that metal is heavy and dense and sinks to the bottom of water. And no matter how much any scientist tries to explain to me that the construction of a boat allows it to glide gracefully on top of the water rather than get swallowed up by it, I believe that boats are deadly, unnecessary forms of transportation. Continue reading “Boat”
The pink blueberry was hanging alone at the end of her branch whilst all her blue peers clustered together and giggled and sniggered. She was the butt of their jokes once again, simply because she was a different colour.
‘Hey pinky, what’s up with your pigments? Where’s your anthocyanin?’
‘It got washed away cos she’s been anthoCRYanin!’ Continue reading “Blue”
Bill had been living in London for two weeks when he was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. He didn’t have any friends in the city and it was harder than he thought it would be to get to know the people he worked with. They all seemed so closed off and although they were polite enough to make idle chat about their weekends and their hobbies, they maintained an attitude that said ‘I have enough friends, thanks. I don’t need friends at work.’ Continue reading “Billboard”
‘Break friends, break friends, never, never make friends,’ said Lucy as she shook the paw of Taz, her teddy bear, then slung him across the room.
Taz had really done it this time. There was no way Lucy would ever speak to him again after what he’d done. He’d gossiped about her behind her back to Reg the rabbit and if there was something Lucy couldn’t stand it was gossips. Continue reading “Best Friend”
‘It’s not fair,’ moaned the toilet, ‘I have to take shit from everybody whilst the rest of you have nice clean jobs.’
‘That’s not strictly true,’ replied the bathtub. ‘I’ve had plenty of shit from that kid. He’s got a dirty habit of doing his business as soon as he gets in me. I mean, how am I supposed to feel like I’m doing my job right when I know there have been turds floating about in my water? The parents think it’s cute but it’s not, it’s pure filthy.’ Continue reading “Bathtub”
A certain amount of time ago, not too long but not too recently, a mouse was born beneath the floorboards of a small, shabby pub in a small, shabby corner of rural Yorkshire. He began his life as a bald and blind pink ball, naïve and unaware of his surroundings. All he knew was his mother, and even then he didn’t acknowledge her as a mother, but simply as another larger, furry ball that provided food and warmth. Continue reading “Vermin”
‘She’s got a face like a bashed crab.’
‘Well that’s not a legitimate reason to dislike her.’
‘But it doesn’t help though, does it?’ Continue reading “Bashed Crab”