Won't you walk the wheel with me?

There's been plenty of tittle tattle running through the rest of da month - Here's a few choice moments...



Jager bombs for breakfast - that's how we do



Construction king



Pride



Pure unadulterated wee man joy



Fuckin' heck



Travelling men



Flat mate's nan on the altar of fresh pants - fresh looks all round



Obelix - original badman



Hello my only friend



Smingey roast

Chaos part deux

Oof - holiday business has meant there's not been much in the way of online updates cos we've been living it hard in the real world. See for yoursens...



Bryony Gormless



Red trouser brigade goin' down



Poulet - roasted



Hometown vibes innit



Breakfasting on pig



It's a pride ting



Pre-Pride cocktails



Sweets



Oh-oh



Geller flex



Murky

An afternoon at the fair

Just the other weekend we spent an afternoon at the fair in Victoria Park. It was lovely let me tell you. We ate a lovely pide in the afternoon. Pide not paedo. It wasn't a paedo. Not unless they arrive on yer plate on a bread base with lamb and cheese on top. I'm not an expert in kiddy fiddling but I don't believe there have been that many great changes within the 'industry'. They're still dithering around in macs and galoshes...

Anyhoo there were plenty of big looks going on. Shooting, dodgems, raffles, a (terrifying) merry go round, the wall of death. There were also a lorry-load of fuck heads staggering around the place, not excluding ourselves. We capped off the evening with a trip to the Fish House, a delightful eatery located in Lauriston next to the park.

The fish was so big it finished us off. The post meal slump saw us tucked up in bed before the witching hour descended. One of our party even complained that his portion was 'too big' to eat. It was big but not that big friend.



'erbs...



The Wall of Death and its fat host



Motherfuckers



Ready?



Take aim and fire



Another 50 pence down the shitter



Strength



A piece of plaice - arguably 'too big'

Zed Bias - Neighbourhood

Thanks to 1Xtra’s Mistajam and Sheffield’s Toddla T, I’ve got this wedged between my ears and no matter what I do I can’t shake it out. So I’m having to shake my booty instead.

It's not that new to holler on this but originally I thought this was Crazy Cousinz on a fresh bumpy dancehall tip. In fact it’s ten years old. The author is giving this roll up a fresh lick of paint and wheeling it out for an anniversary edition. Big, bad and bouncy. Check the flex below...

The 09

Check out the ring-side shots of my ma on the table below. This is how we roll during the festive season. Gin and pool. Basically, the acid never lies.

Here's a selection of shots from the 09 thus far. We played a New Year's eve party at 93 Feet East in the members bar for a sharp suited evening called Jack to the Future. We killed it big style.

Since then it's been a case of rubbing those pennies hoping they'll get it on and produce lots of little pennies which will grow up big and strong and become pounds.



Aww - xmas house



Mum on the table - Pure acid



A quiet night in with the Tiga podcast

Incidentally every fucker in the universe is compiling top tips for the 09 - they’re citing a wave of keyboard waving sirens as the antidote to the past year of guitar wielding Gratton catalogue-esque numpties clogging up one’s lobes. Fuck them they don’t know anything. Here’s a proper slice of aural hype from an original madam with a little help from some lads. Grace Jones vs Aeroplane. Get on it mothers…