Profile for Stop, look, listen - Pheeeel.:
propping03 at yahoooooooooo dot company dot united kingdom of great britain and northern ireland is checked once every blue moon.
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propping03 at yahoooooooooo dot company dot united kingdom of great britain and northern ireland is checked once every blue moon.
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» Pretentious bollocks
Student Union Politics
Or in fact, any kind of student politics.
Yes I was involved. Yes I thought it was important. Once I left I realised it was of importance to no-one except those involved, probably including 99% of students.
I have a particularly cringe making memory relating to a debate held in a General meeting of the very left wing students union, about banning French products from the Students Union shops and bars in the wake of the French unilateral nuclear testing programme in the South Pacific, sometime in the mid 1990's. Pure gesture politics.
Inevitably the huffing and puffing lefties carried the motion in a fit of anti-French hysteria (which ironically they would have called xenophobia if a right-wing person have voiced it). Strangely, although it became union policy, it was conveniently forgotten after the Union Bar management pointed out that they were contractually obliged to sell Kronenbourg, it was their most popular draught lager and that there would be a mutiny if the Sports Science department got wind of what the lefties were trying to do. Draught Kronenbourg is probably brewed in Wales or something, but as I was constantly reminded "its the principle thats important".
On another occaison, a motion was put forward by a HIGHLY pretentious student to rename the union office building. At the time the building was named after a former ANC activist, now a senior member of the Government of the RSA. It was suggested that the building should be named after a more up to date freedom fighter. The motion proposer was in favour of naming it after a Chechen Terrorist (remember this was the mid 1990s). Any change was hotly opposed by the Anarcho-Green-Socialist-bedwetting coalition that ran the Union Executive.
The most popular proposal, when put to the vote in the General Meeting (I can't remember who by but I wish I'd bought him a pint of Kronenbourg) was to rename it the Luke Skywalker Building. Everyone fell about laughing. It was great to see the pretentious bubble that these people lived in burst completely by a well placed needle of wit.
No apologies for length. Lets Ban it. All those in favour? Motion Carried.
(Fri 30th Sep 2005, 10:30, More)
Student Union Politics
Or in fact, any kind of student politics.
Yes I was involved. Yes I thought it was important. Once I left I realised it was of importance to no-one except those involved, probably including 99% of students.
I have a particularly cringe making memory relating to a debate held in a General meeting of the very left wing students union, about banning French products from the Students Union shops and bars in the wake of the French unilateral nuclear testing programme in the South Pacific, sometime in the mid 1990's. Pure gesture politics.
Inevitably the huffing and puffing lefties carried the motion in a fit of anti-French hysteria (which ironically they would have called xenophobia if a right-wing person have voiced it). Strangely, although it became union policy, it was conveniently forgotten after the Union Bar management pointed out that they were contractually obliged to sell Kronenbourg, it was their most popular draught lager and that there would be a mutiny if the Sports Science department got wind of what the lefties were trying to do. Draught Kronenbourg is probably brewed in Wales or something, but as I was constantly reminded "its the principle thats important".
On another occaison, a motion was put forward by a HIGHLY pretentious student to rename the union office building. At the time the building was named after a former ANC activist, now a senior member of the Government of the RSA. It was suggested that the building should be named after a more up to date freedom fighter. The motion proposer was in favour of naming it after a Chechen Terrorist (remember this was the mid 1990s). Any change was hotly opposed by the Anarcho-Green-Socialist-bedwetting coalition that ran the Union Executive.
The most popular proposal, when put to the vote in the General Meeting (I can't remember who by but I wish I'd bought him a pint of Kronenbourg) was to rename it the Luke Skywalker Building. Everyone fell about laughing. It was great to see the pretentious bubble that these people lived in burst completely by a well placed needle of wit.
No apologies for length. Lets Ban it. All those in favour? Motion Carried.
(Fri 30th Sep 2005, 10:30, More)
» Scary Neighbours
Yardie Neighbours
Pappers and I used to share a flat in Harlesden. For those who know the area it was not far from the Harrow road/Scrubs Lane junction, near the muggers paradise that is Willesden Junction. It was just over the road from where poor little Toni-Ann Byfield was murdered when saw who had just shot her dad.
I wouldn't call them immediate neighbours, but we certainly lived in the proximity of some of the areas finest, most upstanding Yardies. This was around the time that a pregnant lady was shot in the leg on Tubbs Lane, just over the road, for giving a bit of verbal to one of them while exchanging details after he went into the back of her car.
One evening Pappers heard what he said sounded like a whole heap of corrugated metal falling off of a passing train (our flat commanded splendid views of the frieght line). In the morning we discovered there had been a drive-by shoot outside the nightclub ("Mr Yardies" as we knew it) about 150 yards away, in which the gangstas weapon of choice, the AK47, was used to defend the premises against a rival gang.
There were numerous incidents within a 1000 yard radius of the flat, which we would usually find out about on the evening news. After moving to the comparatively peaceful haven of Willesden Green, some friends who lived round the corner from the Harlesden place were hurriedly relocated when they witnessed an execution-style killing almost literally on their doorstep.
Harlesden may have few redeeming features, but it was home for a year, so I can't complain.
No apologies for length, you'll learn to love it.
(Thu 25th Aug 2005, 15:28, More)
Yardie Neighbours
Pappers and I used to share a flat in Harlesden. For those who know the area it was not far from the Harrow road/Scrubs Lane junction, near the muggers paradise that is Willesden Junction. It was just over the road from where poor little Toni-Ann Byfield was murdered when saw who had just shot her dad.
I wouldn't call them immediate neighbours, but we certainly lived in the proximity of some of the areas finest, most upstanding Yardies. This was around the time that a pregnant lady was shot in the leg on Tubbs Lane, just over the road, for giving a bit of verbal to one of them while exchanging details after he went into the back of her car.
One evening Pappers heard what he said sounded like a whole heap of corrugated metal falling off of a passing train (our flat commanded splendid views of the frieght line). In the morning we discovered there had been a drive-by shoot outside the nightclub ("Mr Yardies" as we knew it) about 150 yards away, in which the gangstas weapon of choice, the AK47, was used to defend the premises against a rival gang.
There were numerous incidents within a 1000 yard radius of the flat, which we would usually find out about on the evening news. After moving to the comparatively peaceful haven of Willesden Green, some friends who lived round the corner from the Harlesden place were hurriedly relocated when they witnessed an execution-style killing almost literally on their doorstep.
Harlesden may have few redeeming features, but it was home for a year, so I can't complain.
No apologies for length, you'll learn to love it.
(Thu 25th Aug 2005, 15:28, More)
» Rock and Roll Stories
First Gig
I was the Bassist in non-legendary rock Cornish Punk band-of-hope "PFE" who failed to make any impact whatsoever on the local music scene in the mid 1990s. If you were in the Falmouth/Truro area at the time, you'd be entirely forgiven for not having noticed us. We lasted 2 gigs.
But Maaaaaan! Those two gigs were awesome. The first one was in the City hall where we opened on someones birthday gig - she'd managed to book about 4 bands, some of which were pretty good. We were to paid 1 pint of beer each.
After a very rock n roll squabble with a reggae band about the running order, we ended up going on first. It was probably fair enough since our entire set was only about 20 minutes and they'd played more gigs than we had. Mind you we fought tooth and nail not go on first as we were crapping ourselves by now.
At the sound check we found ourselves on stage between some massive speaker stacks. The soundman indicated that I should strum the instrument I now felt very uncomfortable holding, for level or something. I played as close to a riff as I could manage (I had taken the bass up in order to be in a band, not through any actual talent, about a month before the gig) and whole world seemed to shake. I then hid in the loo, terrified, with the rest of the band until it was time to go on.
Fortified with Special Brew and the prospect of humiliation (all our friends were coming), we took to the stage a played our first number - King Rocker by Generation X. Worryingly, we all finished at different times. King Rocker is a fairly tight number and we made it sound about as punk as playschool.
But we had grabbed the attention of the crowd (there were about 20 people in the hall by now) and some even started dancing as we tumbled through a couple of rolling stones numbers, something by the pixies and god-knows what else. By the end of the set we were the Red-hot-chilli-fucking-peppers (in our own minds).
We got an encore. By then we'd played everything we knew. So we played King Rocker again and this go we all finished at the same time. The reggae band had a hard job following that! (not).
We split, due to artistic differences, after the next gig.
(Tue 4th Jul 2006, 12:05, More)
First Gig
I was the Bassist in non-legendary rock Cornish Punk band-of-hope "PFE" who failed to make any impact whatsoever on the local music scene in the mid 1990s. If you were in the Falmouth/Truro area at the time, you'd be entirely forgiven for not having noticed us. We lasted 2 gigs.
But Maaaaaan! Those two gigs were awesome. The first one was in the City hall where we opened on someones birthday gig - she'd managed to book about 4 bands, some of which were pretty good. We were to paid 1 pint of beer each.
After a very rock n roll squabble with a reggae band about the running order, we ended up going on first. It was probably fair enough since our entire set was only about 20 minutes and they'd played more gigs than we had. Mind you we fought tooth and nail not go on first as we were crapping ourselves by now.
At the sound check we found ourselves on stage between some massive speaker stacks. The soundman indicated that I should strum the instrument I now felt very uncomfortable holding, for level or something. I played as close to a riff as I could manage (I had taken the bass up in order to be in a band, not through any actual talent, about a month before the gig) and whole world seemed to shake. I then hid in the loo, terrified, with the rest of the band until it was time to go on.
Fortified with Special Brew and the prospect of humiliation (all our friends were coming), we took to the stage a played our first number - King Rocker by Generation X. Worryingly, we all finished at different times. King Rocker is a fairly tight number and we made it sound about as punk as playschool.
But we had grabbed the attention of the crowd (there were about 20 people in the hall by now) and some even started dancing as we tumbled through a couple of rolling stones numbers, something by the pixies and god-knows what else. By the end of the set we were the Red-hot-chilli-fucking-peppers (in our own minds).
We got an encore. By then we'd played everything we knew. So we played King Rocker again and this go we all finished at the same time. The reggae band had a hard job following that! (not).
We split, due to artistic differences, after the next gig.
(Tue 4th Jul 2006, 12:05, More)
» Toilets
All snakes in Morocco are poisonous.
Yep, Eponymous is right, on the way up Mt Toubkal on a beautiful clear morning enjoying an amazing view. About to settle down for long awaited curling-one-off, since the immodium had finally stopped.
... and then seeing a bloody great snake shoot out right between your feet. Scared the crap out of me. Literally.
I also saw the dunny in the refuge on the way down. Since we had to peg it down from the top of Toubkal in the middle of a hugely violent storm, having ascended by the 9 hour route rather than the usual path, no one was going to stop me going to stop me going in anywhere, boots on or not.
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 14:34, More)
All snakes in Morocco are poisonous.
Yep, Eponymous is right, on the way up Mt Toubkal on a beautiful clear morning enjoying an amazing view. About to settle down for long awaited curling-one-off, since the immodium had finally stopped.
... and then seeing a bloody great snake shoot out right between your feet. Scared the crap out of me. Literally.
I also saw the dunny in the refuge on the way down. Since we had to peg it down from the top of Toubkal in the middle of a hugely violent storm, having ascended by the 9 hour route rather than the usual path, no one was going to stop me going to stop me going in anywhere, boots on or not.
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 14:34, More)