He left no traces
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Man with angle-grinder outside my room again.
Oh boy did I watch some bad movies at the weekend. We piled over to my brother Sean's house, ate custard doughnuts and got down to it.
We started off with a good film -John Carpenter's Christine- but the night went downhill after that. It's asking a lot of an audience to find a car scary, but with taut pacing, convincing performances and a classic Carpenter score, the B-Movie auteur pulls it off. There's
some real badass punk types who call lead-nerd Cunningham 'cuntface' and smash his glasses. Then they get expelled so they smash his car. Bad move; the car is Christine, and Christine is an evil car, and they all get run over. Christine's radio only plays '50's music, she drives herself, fixes herself and gets jealous when her owner touches girls. Ultimately, this makes Cunningham evil too, and he loses it and his friends have to kill him. But Christine won't die, because she isn't alive. Because she's a car, right? The film ends with the line 'I hate rock'n'roll'. Superb.
This is when it all kind of fell apart. We put on Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground aka Nights of Terror aka Zombi 3. All Bianachi's other films were porno, and it shows. The scariest thing in it is is the child who is clearly played by a freakish adult midget. Italians wander around moaning with bits of clay on their faces. Some guts get eaten at one point.
After that we watched the incredible Story of Ricky, a kung fu film with insane amounts of gore. Ricky is in prison for killing a smack dealer. The prison is a privatised hell hole. Ricky rises to the top and takes control, beating the corrupt, capitalist wardens and destroying their opium harvest. Ricky has super-human strength, and when he punches people in the head, they explode. You're not allowed to watch it here because it will make you kill people, despite being probably the silliest film ever made.
Next up was a Hammer House of Horror episode called the House that Bled to Death, which Duncan Fleming brought round. For the most part it's dismal early 80's British fare, just before Hammer Studios finally realised they hadn't made a good film in years and called it a day. Everything has that depressing, suburban, Likely Lads vibe, where everyone is a total loser and has bloody awful wallpaper. This episode has a classic scene where lots of kids get sprayed with blood at a birthday party. The scene builds beautifully, with a sense of impending doom, and there really is something upsetting about kids having fun eating jelly and ice-cream,
and then getting drenched in blood from a burst water main. The film ends with one of those expected Tales of the Unexpected conceits which nullifies the first half of the film.
Then, despite my pleas, we watched Street Trash, a meandering bunch of crap with an awful comedy-rape scene where a very fat man attacks a woman while silly trombone music plays, indicating his fatness. Due to the presence of goofy circus music, it isn't rape, apparently. The only good part in the film is when someone melts after drinking out of date hooch. This doesn't happen frequently enough, and can't make up for the casual mysogyny of the previous scene. This is where the BBFC really mystifies me. They aren't prepared to pass I Spit On Your Grave, which whilst being a problematic and flawed film, does nothing if not depict rape as a truly horrifying ordeal, yet they are happy to allow us to watch something which completely trivialises it. Given their sensibly passing Irreversible uncut, i'm once again unable to comprehend their logic.
We started off with a good film -John Carpenter's Christine- but the night went downhill after that. It's asking a lot of an audience to find a car scary, but with taut pacing, convincing performances and a classic Carpenter score, the B-Movie auteur pulls it off. There's
some real badass punk types who call lead-nerd Cunningham 'cuntface' and smash his glasses. Then they get expelled so they smash his car. Bad move; the car is Christine, and Christine is an evil car, and they all get run over. Christine's radio only plays '50's music, she drives herself, fixes herself and gets jealous when her owner touches girls. Ultimately, this makes Cunningham evil too, and he loses it and his friends have to kill him. But Christine won't die, because she isn't alive. Because she's a car, right? The film ends with the line 'I hate rock'n'roll'. Superb.
This is when it all kind of fell apart. We put on Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground aka Nights of Terror aka Zombi 3. All Bianachi's other films were porno, and it shows. The scariest thing in it is is the child who is clearly played by a freakish adult midget. Italians wander around moaning with bits of clay on their faces. Some guts get eaten at one point.
After that we watched the incredible Story of Ricky, a kung fu film with insane amounts of gore. Ricky is in prison for killing a smack dealer. The prison is a privatised hell hole. Ricky rises to the top and takes control, beating the corrupt, capitalist wardens and destroying their opium harvest. Ricky has super-human strength, and when he punches people in the head, they explode. You're not allowed to watch it here because it will make you kill people, despite being probably the silliest film ever made.
Next up was a Hammer House of Horror episode called the House that Bled to Death, which Duncan Fleming brought round. For the most part it's dismal early 80's British fare, just before Hammer Studios finally realised they hadn't made a good film in years and called it a day. Everything has that depressing, suburban, Likely Lads vibe, where everyone is a total loser and has bloody awful wallpaper. This episode has a classic scene where lots of kids get sprayed with blood at a birthday party. The scene builds beautifully, with a sense of impending doom, and there really is something upsetting about kids having fun eating jelly and ice-cream,
and then getting drenched in blood from a burst water main. The film ends with one of those expected Tales of the Unexpected conceits which nullifies the first half of the film.
Then, despite my pleas, we watched Street Trash, a meandering bunch of crap with an awful comedy-rape scene where a very fat man attacks a woman while silly trombone music plays, indicating his fatness. Due to the presence of goofy circus music, it isn't rape, apparently. The only good part in the film is when someone melts after drinking out of date hooch. This doesn't happen frequently enough, and can't make up for the casual mysogyny of the previous scene. This is where the BBFC really mystifies me. They aren't prepared to pass I Spit On Your Grave, which whilst being a problematic and flawed film, does nothing if not depict rape as a truly horrifying ordeal, yet they are happy to allow us to watch something which completely trivialises it. Given their sensibly passing Irreversible uncut, i'm once again unable to comprehend their logic.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
this is how I relax in the evenings
I did an interview for Dazed and Confused and they asked me for my top ten Desert Island Discs. I know for a fact that they won't print the whole thing, so here it is.
1) my bloody valentine - come in alone
if the desert island i was stranded on was peopled by a primitive tribe I would use this song to demonstrate the art of guitar playing in the 20th century.
2) the smiths - there is a light that never goes out
this song could be used to school a primitive civilsation in the use of darkly humourous melancholy and flamboyant guitar overlays.
3) depeche mode - enjoy the silence
demonstrating to the tribe the art of dark, sensual, meticulously arranged synth pop.
4) can - i want more
who knows, maybe me and the tribe will hit it off. maybe we'll get loaded. maybe we'll have a party.
5) can - bel air
with only ten songs to listen to forever, i will soon get very bored of them. this song is twenty minutes long, so that might help a bit.
6) bert jansch - jack orion
the tribe have become bored of my music. they decide to eat me. they allow me one last song, and I choose a blues influenced fingerstyle interpretation of a traditional english folk song played by the jimmy hendrix of acoustic guitar. clocking in at nine minutes and fifty seconds, this song might give me enough time to plan my escape.
7) husker du - green eyes
perhaps if the tribe just understood that without this band we wouldn't have had the pixies or nirvana, they wouldn't eat me, and instead just grill me for interesting bits of indie rock trivia.
8) augustus pablo - king tubbys meets rockers uptown
maybe there is a shit load of pot growing on this island.
9) joy division - shadowplay
this song changed my life. maybe it will change it again, and somehow get me off this fucking island.
10) gravenhurst - black holes in the sand
everything is absolutely fine. it turns out that the tribe are massive Gravenhurst fans. who needs western civilisation when I have a legion of adoring acolytes catering to my every whim? it does, however, inspire them all to play the acoustic guitar, and it's beginning to grate on my nerves.
Yesterday I walked into the bedroom and smashed my hand on the door frame, bending my middle finger back until I heard a snapping sound. I've conducted all the standard exercises to check it isn't broken, and it isn't broken. It only hurts a bit now, but i'm going to refrain from guitar playing for a week, and i'm typing with my index fingers. In two weeks time we are recording a song at Toybox studios, then we tour the UK with Juana Molina, then I do a solo tour of Europe with Sufjan Stevens, so the use of my hands is fundamental.
I have been listening to three records on constant rotation: Sugar's 'Beaster', Onanist Homework Robot + The Guano Ignoramus' 'Large Ghost!' CD, and Life Without Building's 'Any Other City'. The latter was recommended to me by Tom of Maximo Park. LWB split after this one album, which is a great shame as they were very good. It does however mean that I can maintain my tradition of only getting into bands after they've split. According to reviews LWB sound like Television and The Slits, but I couldn't hear it myself, so that shows how little I know about music. It's a good job we have journalists, otherwise us musicians would be truly lost, wandering around in the dark and bumping into one another.
Onanist Homework Robot + The Guano Ignoramus is a project by two musicians from Bristol. Sam Wisternoff can usually be found performing under the name SJ Esau, and the other chap is usually known as Team Brick. I've known him for a couple of years but I still don't know his real name. 'Large Ghost!' is very poppy and quite strange. Though appropriate I hate to use the word 'quirky'; like 'wacky' it has become relegated to the vocabulary of the office joker, describing his humourous weekend antics to his 'straight' office chums. The track titles are 'Spannerfucker' and 'Philip Glass's Glasses'.
Car boot sale on sunday: I totally scored:
The Smuggler - Lucio Fulci VHS Graveyard Disturbance - Lamberto Bava VHS Ghost House II starring David Hasselhoff and Linda Blair VHS Steven Seagal: On Deadly Ground and Out to Kill VHS Nightmare on Elm Street - Wes Craven VHS Hellraiser I and III VHS Stallone : Cobra VHS
I also found a copy of She Freak on VHS but the woman wanted £2 for it. I offered her £1. "No, that's £2". Look lady, do you honestly think there is anyone else here who would be remotely interested in buying this rubbish?
I watched Ichi the Killer last night, disappointing. But never mind, karma wil be restored: my DVD of Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground aka Nights of Terror aka Night of Terror aka Notil de Terrore aka Zombi 3 has arrived.
1) my bloody valentine - come in alone
if the desert island i was stranded on was peopled by a primitive tribe I would use this song to demonstrate the art of guitar playing in the 20th century.
2) the smiths - there is a light that never goes out
this song could be used to school a primitive civilsation in the use of darkly humourous melancholy and flamboyant guitar overlays.
3) depeche mode - enjoy the silence
demonstrating to the tribe the art of dark, sensual, meticulously arranged synth pop.
4) can - i want more
who knows, maybe me and the tribe will hit it off. maybe we'll get loaded. maybe we'll have a party.
5) can - bel air
with only ten songs to listen to forever, i will soon get very bored of them. this song is twenty minutes long, so that might help a bit.
6) bert jansch - jack orion
the tribe have become bored of my music. they decide to eat me. they allow me one last song, and I choose a blues influenced fingerstyle interpretation of a traditional english folk song played by the jimmy hendrix of acoustic guitar. clocking in at nine minutes and fifty seconds, this song might give me enough time to plan my escape.
7) husker du - green eyes
perhaps if the tribe just understood that without this band we wouldn't have had the pixies or nirvana, they wouldn't eat me, and instead just grill me for interesting bits of indie rock trivia.
8) augustus pablo - king tubbys meets rockers uptown
maybe there is a shit load of pot growing on this island.
9) joy division - shadowplay
this song changed my life. maybe it will change it again, and somehow get me off this fucking island.
10) gravenhurst - black holes in the sand
everything is absolutely fine. it turns out that the tribe are massive Gravenhurst fans. who needs western civilisation when I have a legion of adoring acolytes catering to my every whim? it does, however, inspire them all to play the acoustic guitar, and it's beginning to grate on my nerves.
Yesterday I walked into the bedroom and smashed my hand on the door frame, bending my middle finger back until I heard a snapping sound. I've conducted all the standard exercises to check it isn't broken, and it isn't broken. It only hurts a bit now, but i'm going to refrain from guitar playing for a week, and i'm typing with my index fingers. In two weeks time we are recording a song at Toybox studios, then we tour the UK with Juana Molina, then I do a solo tour of Europe with Sufjan Stevens, so the use of my hands is fundamental.
I have been listening to three records on constant rotation: Sugar's 'Beaster', Onanist Homework Robot + The Guano Ignoramus' 'Large Ghost!' CD, and Life Without Building's 'Any Other City'. The latter was recommended to me by Tom of Maximo Park. LWB split after this one album, which is a great shame as they were very good. It does however mean that I can maintain my tradition of only getting into bands after they've split. According to reviews LWB sound like Television and The Slits, but I couldn't hear it myself, so that shows how little I know about music. It's a good job we have journalists, otherwise us musicians would be truly lost, wandering around in the dark and bumping into one another.
Onanist Homework Robot + The Guano Ignoramus is a project by two musicians from Bristol. Sam Wisternoff can usually be found performing under the name SJ Esau, and the other chap is usually known as Team Brick. I've known him for a couple of years but I still don't know his real name. 'Large Ghost!' is very poppy and quite strange. Though appropriate I hate to use the word 'quirky'; like 'wacky' it has become relegated to the vocabulary of the office joker, describing his humourous weekend antics to his 'straight' office chums. The track titles are 'Spannerfucker' and 'Philip Glass's Glasses'.
Car boot sale on sunday: I totally scored:
The Smuggler - Lucio Fulci VHS Graveyard Disturbance - Lamberto Bava VHS Ghost House II starring David Hasselhoff and Linda Blair VHS Steven Seagal: On Deadly Ground and Out to Kill VHS Nightmare on Elm Street - Wes Craven VHS Hellraiser I and III VHS Stallone : Cobra VHS
I also found a copy of She Freak on VHS but the woman wanted £2 for it. I offered her £1. "No, that's £2". Look lady, do you honestly think there is anyone else here who would be remotely interested in buying this rubbish?
I watched Ichi the Killer last night, disappointing. But never mind, karma wil be restored: my DVD of Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground aka Nights of Terror aka Night of Terror aka Notil de Terrore aka Zombi 3 has arrived.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
test your consistency
http://www.philosophers.co.uk/games/check.htm
This tests the consitency of your beliefs. I had a tension quotient of only 7%; apparently most people have a quotient of around 29%.
The area where I run into some tension is detailed below. I answer the tension by suggesting that my job totally requires me to use a car as we have to lug a drum kit around. Whilst one could theoretically do this by train, it would be pretty fucking hard, and on balance it seems that
using an efficient small car is the least wasteful method of transport for a band.
"But you might want to argue that much of your use of cars or aeroplanes is necessary, not for survival, but for a certain quality of life."
It has been scientifically proven that Gravenhurst is the only thing I can do without becoming chronically depressed.
"The difficulty is that the consequence of this response is that it then becomes hard to be critical of others, for it seems that 'necessary' simply means what one judges to be important for oneself."
It's not like I drive to the chip shop round the corner like some people do. In fact, I don't drive anywhere, because I can't drive. Practically the only time I get in a car is when we take our equipment to shows. Chip shop round the corner, fat kids driven to school and back one mile away: manifestly uneccesary and wasteful use of resources. Transport of drumkit in car: arguably necessary, and a statement to this effect is at least not prima facie implausible.
++++++++++++++++
Questions 24 and 3: How much must I protect the environment?
23281 of the 44875 people who have completed this activity have this tension in their beliefs.
You agreed that:The environment should not be damaged unnecessarily in the pursuit of human ends
But disagreed that:People should not journey by car if they can walk, cycle or take a train instead
As walking, cycling and taking the train are all less environmentally damaging than driving a car for the same journey, if you choose to drive when you could have used another mode of transport, you are guilty of unnecessarily damaging the environment.
The problem here is the word 'unnecessary'. Very few things are necessary, if by necessary it is meant essential to survival. But you might want to argue that much of your use of cars or aeroplanes is necessary, not for survival, but for a certain quality of life. The difficulty is that the consequence of this response is that it then becomes hard to be critical of others, for it seems that 'necessary' simply means what one judges to be important for oneself. A single plane journey may add more pollutants to the atmosphere than a year's use of a high-emission vehicle. Who is guilty of causing unnecessary environmental harm here?
This tests the consitency of your beliefs. I had a tension quotient of only 7%; apparently most people have a quotient of around 29%.
The area where I run into some tension is detailed below. I answer the tension by suggesting that my job totally requires me to use a car as we have to lug a drum kit around. Whilst one could theoretically do this by train, it would be pretty fucking hard, and on balance it seems that
using an efficient small car is the least wasteful method of transport for a band.
"But you might want to argue that much of your use of cars or aeroplanes is necessary, not for survival, but for a certain quality of life."
It has been scientifically proven that Gravenhurst is the only thing I can do without becoming chronically depressed.
"The difficulty is that the consequence of this response is that it then becomes hard to be critical of others, for it seems that 'necessary' simply means what one judges to be important for oneself."
It's not like I drive to the chip shop round the corner like some people do. In fact, I don't drive anywhere, because I can't drive. Practically the only time I get in a car is when we take our equipment to shows. Chip shop round the corner, fat kids driven to school and back one mile away: manifestly uneccesary and wasteful use of resources. Transport of drumkit in car: arguably necessary, and a statement to this effect is at least not prima facie implausible.
++++++++++++++++
Questions 24 and 3: How much must I protect the environment?
23281 of the 44875 people who have completed this activity have this tension in their beliefs.
You agreed that:The environment should not be damaged unnecessarily in the pursuit of human ends
But disagreed that:People should not journey by car if they can walk, cycle or take a train instead
As walking, cycling and taking the train are all less environmentally damaging than driving a car for the same journey, if you choose to drive when you could have used another mode of transport, you are guilty of unnecessarily damaging the environment.
The problem here is the word 'unnecessary'. Very few things are necessary, if by necessary it is meant essential to survival. But you might want to argue that much of your use of cars or aeroplanes is necessary, not for survival, but for a certain quality of life. The difficulty is that the consequence of this response is that it then becomes hard to be critical of others, for it seems that 'necessary' simply means what one judges to be important for oneself. A single plane journey may add more pollutants to the atmosphere than a year's use of a high-emission vehicle. Who is guilty of causing unnecessary environmental harm here?
Be good
http://selectsmart.com/PHILOSOPHY/
A rather wonderful Ethical Philosophy Selector, that determines which philosopher your views are closest to.
Kant came up top for me. But Mill came fairly close behind which doesn't make much sense considering they are commonly interpreted as having radically opposing views, and are the textbook examples of Duty versus Consequentialist ethics. I also found a few alternative answers consistent with my views, so I went back and chose those instead, and got a Spinoza result. This probably means i'm a rather confused and inconsistent man. I'm not very familiar with Spinoza's philosophy, so i'll have to get his Ethics.
A rather wonderful Ethical Philosophy Selector, that determines which philosopher your views are closest to.
Kant came up top for me. But Mill came fairly close behind which doesn't make much sense considering they are commonly interpreted as having radically opposing views, and are the textbook examples of Duty versus Consequentialist ethics. I also found a few alternative answers consistent with my views, so I went back and chose those instead, and got a Spinoza result. This probably means i'm a rather confused and inconsistent man. I'm not very familiar with Spinoza's philosophy, so i'll have to get his Ethics.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
your foot in my face is what keeps me alive
At the weekend we ran the gauntlet. Friday night: train to London, tube to hotel in King's Cross.
Saturday morning get up at 5am, taxi to Waterloo, catch Eurostar to Brussels at 6.30
Arrive Brussels at 10am, 1 hour taxi ride to Pukklepop Festival site. Play cribbage for three hours, laugh at silly major label rock bands with silly hair and silly leather trousers. Spill cup of tea into my lap. Onstage at 2.30, no soundcheck. Play to 2000 people for 40 minutes. handful of kids down front sing along to songs from Flashlight Seasons then look slightly bewildered when we launch into our loudest and best rendition so far of Song From Under the Arches. Then we play Entertainment too fast, and bring the noise for ten minutes with Black Holes in the Sand.
Offstage at 3.10, do two interviews in aggressive mood, state that all garage rock bands are cattle, there needs to be a cull and they should all be rounded up, shot and melted down to make glue, get in taxi, terrifying one hour ride back to Brussels Midi station, constantly staring at the clock, worried we will have to spend a night sleeping on floors. Check in with 2 minutes to spare. 3 hour Eurostar to Waterloo. Tube to Paddington. 8.30 pm train to Bristol, 2 hours, arrive at Bristol Temple Meads at 10.12 pm. Taxi home.
Next morning, the stunningly reliable Keith from Big Joan arrives in his van, drives us for two hours to Baskerville Hall in Wales, hang around at Green Man Festival for two hours, play set at 5.30, no soundcheck. Same set as before, loud. Good. Very good, but in my sleep-deprived torpor I play one song in completely the wrong key, but Paul follows with impressive improvisational skills.
Get home at around 10 pm.
My chief problem with travel is the cost of disgusting food and drink on public transport. Cup of tea that tastes like it was scraped from the barrel of a gun, £2. Dead sandwhich, £3.50. Dampness: £2. Sopping wet yet strangely tough cake, cold as a grave, £4. Toilet facilities you wouldn't wish upon a child molester £0.20 a shit. Clinical depression, growing misanthropy, constant low-level sense of dread, £gratis.
Saturday morning get up at 5am, taxi to Waterloo, catch Eurostar to Brussels at 6.30
Arrive Brussels at 10am, 1 hour taxi ride to Pukklepop Festival site. Play cribbage for three hours, laugh at silly major label rock bands with silly hair and silly leather trousers. Spill cup of tea into my lap. Onstage at 2.30, no soundcheck. Play to 2000 people for 40 minutes. handful of kids down front sing along to songs from Flashlight Seasons then look slightly bewildered when we launch into our loudest and best rendition so far of Song From Under the Arches. Then we play Entertainment too fast, and bring the noise for ten minutes with Black Holes in the Sand.
Offstage at 3.10, do two interviews in aggressive mood, state that all garage rock bands are cattle, there needs to be a cull and they should all be rounded up, shot and melted down to make glue, get in taxi, terrifying one hour ride back to Brussels Midi station, constantly staring at the clock, worried we will have to spend a night sleeping on floors. Check in with 2 minutes to spare. 3 hour Eurostar to Waterloo. Tube to Paddington. 8.30 pm train to Bristol, 2 hours, arrive at Bristol Temple Meads at 10.12 pm. Taxi home.
Next morning, the stunningly reliable Keith from Big Joan arrives in his van, drives us for two hours to Baskerville Hall in Wales, hang around at Green Man Festival for two hours, play set at 5.30, no soundcheck. Same set as before, loud. Good. Very good, but in my sleep-deprived torpor I play one song in completely the wrong key, but Paul follows with impressive improvisational skills.
Get home at around 10 pm.
My chief problem with travel is the cost of disgusting food and drink on public transport. Cup of tea that tastes like it was scraped from the barrel of a gun, £2. Dead sandwhich, £3.50. Dampness: £2. Sopping wet yet strangely tough cake, cold as a grave, £4. Toilet facilities you wouldn't wish upon a child molester £0.20 a shit. Clinical depression, growing misanthropy, constant low-level sense of dread, £gratis.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
aaaaah fuck
I was recording on the PC when a massive bolt of lightning appeared in front of the window. I unplugged all the computer equipment and hid in the bedroom. God and myself don't get along at the best of times, but recently i've been particularly sinful, dabbling in the black arts (reading Colin Wilson's The Occult), visiting pagan sites (Avebury, Wiltshire) and worshipping false idols (Steven Seagal). It wouldn't surprise me one bit if he decided to wipe my hard drive via the forces of nature.
What happened to Christina Ricci's tits? One minute they were there, the next minute they've gone. Your heroes let you down.
What happened to Christina Ricci's tits? One minute they were there, the next minute they've gone. Your heroes let you down.
Need to make a truly crucial decision?
http://www.random.org/flip.html
Let the Gods decide for you.
Need to blame everything on a religious conspiracy?
http://www.veling.nl/anne/templars/
Let the Knights Templar do the work for you.
Want to upset Christian and Empiricist fundamentalists alike?
http://www.hermetics.org/ebooks.html
Go worship false idols.
Need a software multi-tracker that doesn't make you want to hang yourself?
http://www.mackie.com/products/tracktion/index.html
Here is Traktion in your hour of need.
http://www.random.org/flip.html
Let the Gods decide for you.
Need to blame everything on a religious conspiracy?
http://www.veling.nl/anne/templars/
Let the Knights Templar do the work for you.
Want to upset Christian and Empiricist fundamentalists alike?
http://www.hermetics.org/ebooks.html
Go worship false idols.
Need a software multi-tracker that doesn't make you want to hang yourself?
http://www.mackie.com/products/tracktion/index.html
Here is Traktion in your hour of need.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Spoke to the hippy today. The cheque arrived, after six weeks, but it wasn't enough. We gave her £180 for a months rent plus £60 as a third of a deposit to be paid over three months.
Hippy: Hello?
Me: It's Nick. I got the cheque. It's not enough. You still owe me £60.
Hippy: Oh hi mate! Good, you got the cheque. Oh right, so that was £60 as part of the £180 deposit, yeah?
Me: Correct.
Hippy: Well, you used it for a week and-
Me: You cannot possibly charge us for using the room. Send me another cheque immediately.
Hippy: You were happy to use the room-
Me: We used the room for a total of 10 minutes. The kebab shop owner came in and told us we couldn't continue. You failed to conduct even the most basic enquiries into its suitability as a studio. You didn't make it clear to the kebab-shop owner that there would be bands playing in a room adjacent to his shop, whilst ensuring us that he was 'cool with it'. You wasted our time and money in a completely irresponsible fashion. I could even charge you for taxi fares to and from the studio, but i'm not going to. It has been six weeks now. I have given you remarkable leeway.
Hippy: (passively) don't shout, look don't get angry-
Me: I think I have every right to be angry, you are taking the fucking piss out of me. Send me the money immediately.
Hippy: I don't have the money right now-
Me: Find the fucking money and send it to me immediately. I have your fucking keys. I won't return them until the cheque clears. Send me the fucking money or i'll make duplicates and give them to everyone I know.
Hippy: Look, okay, okay
Me: I look forward to receiving the cheque. Goodbye.
(click)
Hippy: Hello?
Me: It's Nick. I got the cheque. It's not enough. You still owe me £60.
Hippy: Oh hi mate! Good, you got the cheque. Oh right, so that was £60 as part of the £180 deposit, yeah?
Me: Correct.
Hippy: Well, you used it for a week and-
Me: You cannot possibly charge us for using the room. Send me another cheque immediately.
Hippy: You were happy to use the room-
Me: We used the room for a total of 10 minutes. The kebab shop owner came in and told us we couldn't continue. You failed to conduct even the most basic enquiries into its suitability as a studio. You didn't make it clear to the kebab-shop owner that there would be bands playing in a room adjacent to his shop, whilst ensuring us that he was 'cool with it'. You wasted our time and money in a completely irresponsible fashion. I could even charge you for taxi fares to and from the studio, but i'm not going to. It has been six weeks now. I have given you remarkable leeway.
Hippy: (passively) don't shout, look don't get angry-
Me: I think I have every right to be angry, you are taking the fucking piss out of me. Send me the money immediately.
Hippy: I don't have the money right now-
Me: Find the fucking money and send it to me immediately. I have your fucking keys. I won't return them until the cheque clears. Send me the fucking money or i'll make duplicates and give them to everyone I know.
Hippy: Look, okay, okay
Me: I look forward to receiving the cheque. Goodbye.
(click)
Monday, August 02, 2004
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