Deaf Conquistador Juan is missing...

Back To Business
    Wise Up Sucker
        R.S.V.P.
            Chaos & Mayhem
                Wasted
                    Everything's Cool
                        Get The Girl, Kill The Baddies
                            Seek & Destroy
                                Oldskool Cool
                                    Ich Bin Ein Auslander
                                        Cape Connection
                                            Disguise
                                                Preaching To The Perverted
                                                    Nosebleeder Turbo TV
* Encore *
    Captain Plastic
        There Is No Love Between Us Anymore
            Their Law

Pop Will Eat Itself, Wednesday 25th October 2011. The Whatacunt, Norwich.

Jezebel in a field on a mission...

~ Gene Loves Jezebel ~

Upstairs
    Heartache
        Why Can I Not
            Who Wants To Go To Heaven
                Kiss Of Life
                    Break The Chain
                        Desire

~ Fields of the Nephilim ~

Shroud [Exordium]

        Straight To The Light

            Preacher Man

                From the Fire

                    The Watchman

                        Moonchild

                            Penetration

                                Zoon [part 3][wake world]

                                    Psychonaut

                                        Last Exit For The Lost

~ The Mission ~

The Damnbusters Theme

    Beyond The Pale

        Hands Across The Ocean

            Serpents Kiss

                Naked And Savage

                    Garden of Delight

                        Severina

                            Butterfly 

                                Stay With Me

                                    Wake

                                        Wasteland

                                            Crystal Ocean

                                                Deliverance

* Encore #1 *

    Like A Child Again

        Like A Hurricane

            Tower Of Strength

* Encore #2 *

    Blood Brothers

        1969

The Mission 25th Anniversary Celebtration, Saturday 22nd October 2011. O2 Academy, Brixton, Londinium.

Wrist & razor bow string violence...

Apologies for the continuance of the blog hiatus, for The Xym hath been busy catching up on work, projects and televisual treats.

And now the fat boy is ill.

Oh, so very ill.

Cough! Splutter! (Cor, an exploding front door!)

So futher bloglitude may be delayed as I snuggle up on the sofa in my Jack Skellington fleecey throw with a mug of milky coffee and a box of tissues, ploughing through flameybummed insecture, easily mistaken for mountain hooterage, 5 wobbly headed warblers, simian seekers of enlightenment and the reign of bovine munchery.

However, time must be taken to marvel at Norfolk Nazi's of Third Reich Yarmouth, terrorizing people in their string vests with electro-dildos in the gob as they parade round in their pants and tights.

Whart the facking heoulll? Give me the Spear Of Vaginas ewe cawksuhkahr! Get that fahking thing oot moy face, ewe pervahrt!

And that was just Saturday! Further visual carnage lacking thesbian ability is the delight of Sunday Night!

Filth based preposterous rock nonsense! A pretext for boobifications of the highest order and the lezzing up thereof. Truly, 10 minutes of Goth Porn is enough for anyone - betentacled rapage by cartoon gothicles due to self-Rohypnolization, and more juggage than a jugged up juggler juggling jugs in jiggling jugfest of jugs.

Not to mention the most gratuitous of Obligatory Nudie Shower Scene.

But the creme de la gateaux is yet to come! The finest trailer in the world! A kid by a door... A face of an him-out-of-supernatural-resemblance... a slamming door... then... a single tap of a nail into the wall.

Oh, the terror! The terrible, terrible, terror!

And of course, being in a shuttered living room, it had to be watched. G'aaah! Trans-dimensional window displacement and the playing of Ye Olde Musick Of Ye Spheres through a french tarts arms. Not to mention Le Harry Potteur getting nobbage from Ye Olde French Serving Wench as some French trollop dissolves into spunky concrete for a young French lad to dip his balls into (who's actually her French husband when he grows up)

And back home to watch some Old Skool 80s classics - Ah, Angela's dance to Stigofthedump Martyr . Gloriously atrocious acting, wonderfully appalling script, Spectacularly bad FX! Oh, the joys of so bad it's brilliant!

"I'd rather take Stooge."
"What? You gotta be kidding!"
"You heard the lady! She wants a REAL man guarding her charms!"
"But... Stooge is a fat pig!"
"Maybe I'm in the mood for pork tonight!"
"OINK! OINK!"

And now, The Xym is all woeful in the snuffles and headaches and coughage that is The Plague. And (I got the poison, I got) the remedy to be ready for Nephage on Sat is to infect the workers during the day, and spend the evenings up at The Great Northern & Packards Saw Mill.

Norwich really needs a One Eyed Jacques, with all my Pretties contained therein.

Maybe I'll have to have a word with Starbucks... get my St Stephens perving perch converted to a brothelesque boudoir for my harem to frequent in as little dress as possible.

Or just a little dress.

With big black leather boots.

Or something...

The only way WAS Essex...

Plastic Surgery
    Dog Eat Dog
        Beat My Guest
            Kick
                Cartrouble
                    Zerox
                        Deutscher Girls
                            Stand and Deliver
                                Room at the Top
                                    Catholic Day
                                        Kings of the Wild Frontier
                                            Wonderful
                                                Antmusic
                                                    Cleopatra
                                                        Never Trust A Man (With Egg On His Face)
                                                            Goody Two Shoes
                                                                Viva le Rock
                                                                    Christian Dior
                                                                        Lady
                                                                            Fall In
* Encore *
    A.N.T.S.
        Fat Fun
            Prince Charming
                Get It On
                    20th Century Boy
                        (You're So) Physical

Adam Ant, Saturday 8th October 2011. The Venue, Seawick Park, Clacton-on-Sea

Rhapsodising about feedin' so bohemian like you...

Is this pillau rice?
Or is this just tandoori?
Bought a lamb bhuna
With a side dish of cheesey peas¹

Brace for the fire
Raise fork to your mouth
And feed...

I'm just a poor boy
I need a cup of tea
Coz my...

Mouth's on fire! Mouth's gone numb!
Feel it burning through my bum!

Anyway, my wind blows,
poisoning and gassing
me...
Poor me...

Mamma, just ate a naan
Poppadoms I've tried instead
With lime pickle (that I dread).

Mamma, dinner's just begun
Perhaps I should have tried a mild Sathay.

Masaala, ow-ow-ow-ow
Those spices make me cry,
I think I'll have The Ring Of Fire tomorrow.
Curry on
Curry on
'coz nothing really madras.

Too late, my dinner's gone
I washed it down with wine
Rectum stinging all the time.

Goodbye every bhaji
I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the loo.

Korma, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
I think I'm gonna die
I Sometimes wish I never ate this at all

I see a little chicken tikka on the side
Rogan Josh, Rogan Josh
Pass the chutney made of mango.

Vindaloo does nicely
Very very spicey meat.

Biryani (Biryani)Biryani (Biryani)Biryani (Biryani) Sag aloo

(Aloo go-go-go-gobi)

I've eaten balti, somebody help me
He's eaten balti,
get him to the lavatory
Stand you well back
for his loo is quarantined.

From my bum,
'gravy' flows.
Pebbledash the bowl.

I chunder...
Nooooo!
It's coming from both ends!
('gravy' flows) I chunder - It's coming from both ends!
('gravy' flows) I chunder - It's coming from both ends!
coming from both ends!
coming from both ends!

No no no no  no no no no No!

Oh Ring of fire! Ring of fire!
Ring of fire needs anusol

The Rice & Spice
Has forever wrecked my guts
For me
For me
Poor meeeeeeeeee!

Now I know I can eat Chilli Phall and not die!
But the gas from my bot fills the bedroom all night

Oh headache! The stench gives me a headache...
Just get to get out..
Just get to come right out of here... 

I feel the sting of madras
Even when I pee
And nothing stops the splatters
Nothing stops the splatters
From me

(Still it makes my wind blow.)

¹ ON MENU AS MOTOR PONIR. BRILLIANT! I WONDER IF THEY DO SQUEEZY MOTOR PONIR...

Girlfriend in a korma...

Now, I may have got my wires crossed here, but there has been another case of life imitating art!

It seems that a couple of people have been hospitalated. And what be the cause of their injuries?

Killer Curry!

Death by Dupiaza! Suffocated by psychotic Sag Aloo holding a chloroformed paratha over the cakehole! Bonce bashed in by a bare-knuckled (argy) bhaji!

I have many a documentary about killer items, From killer poo in Monsturd through to killer yoghurt (or should that be Killer raita!) in The Stuff.

And now we have the uprising of the Indian Spring (not to be confused with the Chinese Spring [roll]), putting gourmets of spicy repasts in the naanbulance.

Murder in the Aloo Murg!

I, for one, am not bowing to our new biryani benefactors, nor waiting to be devoured by these masaala overlords! I shall escape through the back of me wardrobe into Naania, where I can gorge on non-Killer Turkish Delight in the dam with Mrs Beaver (Curry White) as I rest my head on her dirty pillaus.

I dread to think what a Bhuna Beaver tastes like. 'Specially if it comes with a dose of special fried rice with a blue waffle for dessert. Presumably, it's like a Chicken Tarka. Which, in turn, is like a Chicken Tikka, only a little 'otter.

Ah, I'm only Rogan Joshing!

However, they do say that pride comes before a phal, so perhaps I'll just have to 'man up' and face these jalfrezi Jihaddists down. No foodstuff is gonna take MY planet!

Even if it is a (Tandoori Clay) Pot Person From The Planet Mars(alla)!!

Xmas is coming and my bellend's getting fat...

Please spend a penny in an old man's hat

If you haven't got a penny

A number two will do

If you haven't got a number two

You probably need that Dulco-Ease what them haggard old trouts whitter on about in coffee shops.

Alas, due to oversleeperies, I know not if further harlots are Going About Their Business in their chemise of a morning.

I would nip over to Castle Mall gardens and Ogle The Office Pretties That Lunch as they sit in the sun in their binkineenies as they guzzle down their Special K & violate each others personal soup with their rapey Ryvita biscuits.

But I'm too busy at work for lunch-based lechery (although Foreign Serving Wench complimented me on my purple plumage whilst purchasing revoltiong Morrocan stew - maybe I's in there!¹)

But speaking of The Lunch remindeth me. The Office Xmas meal is all booked!

But Xym... It's October! Surely it's far too early to be considering Saturnalian celebrations?

But, booked it is, by the social scout who be not Xym.

Mmmmmm - turkey with all the trimmings! Xmas pud in a sea of cream! Where be this year's venue for the finest of Winter solstician repasts?

Captain America's!

Yay! Cap- eh, whut?

* checks menu *
* note lackage of specific Xmassy based menu *
* discovers Cap'n A's doesn't have a Xmas menu coz it's a burger bar *

Well peel my tangerines and glaze me figgy pud - there is no fecking seasonal munchage available! Not even a turkey & sprout burger! Captain Amerca's? Captain Arse, more like! Taking the Xmas crackers and wiping his great fat arse with 'em. Bastard!

An Xmas meal of BeefBugger & chips? Well, whoop-de-fecking-whoop. Might as well go to Maccy D's as they at least have a 'Festive Pie' of spiced fruit mincemeatery filling. My only Xmas meal of the year, and it's a twatarse bogstandard buggering bastard of a burger I get get any day of the week.

Oh well, looks like I'll just have to make up for it with one of them Turkey Meals for one (2 for £1.99 from t'Co-Op) on Xmas Day instead.

:(

¹NO XYM, YOU'RE NOT. AND NEVER WILL BE.

'coz on Mondays they all go out in their underwears...

Bananas in pyjamas?

And what, pray, are they doing with these bananas down their PJs? Penile substitution of fruitery disguisement! Bananas up vaginas, are coming up the stairs! Well, in the bedroom up the stairs. Probably.

And not only that, they then move on to come in pears.

Heston Bloomin' Tall might enjoy ejaculate filled conferences with Gormster Ramsey and Huge FearneCotton-WitteringOn, but it's not for me.

And then, high on an orgasmic rush, they go out to chase Teddy Boys who are all unaware on Tuesdays.

Lucky old Mudd and Showaddywaddy then!

However, today is Monday, and so spaced out on the resultant vibratory cucumber minge insertion endorphins (the things what forest moon based fishies have for legs), that they discard their lubricate-soaked PJ bottoms, and wander into the city in their ivory french frilly camiknickers.

Of course, there may be many a reason why a young lady, off about her business, around 8ish of a Monday morning may be bereft of lower raiment whilst fully dressed above the waist. Mayhap her flimsy skirt undid itself, and she didn't notice it slip to the floor. Or maybe it's one of the Student Japes for Women-On-The-Rag week - hide all her lower clothing and force her to walk through the city in her silken drawers. Or mayhap, it's simply being dazed from multiple banana orgasms, she simply forgot to put on her trews before leaving the house.

Or it could be a welcome new fashion!

I'm all for Tight's Night (or Day, judging by those cheaparse scummy mummies that replace expensive Primark Leggings with 5-for-a-£ quidshop tights and think no-one will notice the difference), and I know we've had a bit of a heatwave - but that's no excuse for a Pretty to go getting men further hot under the collar by wandering about all draughty about the lower nethers!

Actually, that's a pretty good excuse, if you ask me!

More Pretties should follow this young ladies lead, and go further. Why leave just your groinage clad in racey lacy lingerie - go the whole hog! Let's turn St Stephens into Moulan Rouge, with scantilly clad vixens all highkicking in front of me Starbucks window.

Get some Lady Marmalade on me pancakes of a morn (if you know what I mean, and I'm sure that you do!).