Get your bench press on

Industrial music has a bad rep - Not as bad as Fred West's - but it's still not great. Despite the rep, some of the tunes are great - hence, today has been spent staggering around and getting cheery to D.A.F. It's proper wobbly cruising musik - If I had any muscles I'd kiss them while getting my favourite bear to simultaneously beat me off.

Hanging bad style...

Yesterday was a classic hangover - Waking up on a sofa late for work - Get to work - Need ballast. Get out of work. Go straight to the pub. Then another pub. Then, before you know it, you're drinking tonic wine and listening to Imagination at a volume some could deem anti-social. Their loss...



Pre-work nom



Third breakfast



Geller - Get a grip



Vibes



Povvy lunch - standard



Great success



Post work pre tea spring rolls



Kitchen after hours hype



Buckied



Keep the tippex close especially at bed time

Bussing a nang down the farm

Shit - Hackney City Farm has got more wildlife than you can bus a leng at - plus if you walk up to the nearby cruising spot like we did at the weekend you'll found a gang of marauding squirrels - those fools are ruling tings round dem parts. They swarmed around us like a bunch of Somalian pirates before stealing all our nuts - Cheeky fucking bastards. We're never trusting anything with a tail ever again.



Yer mum



Yer mum's mum. Sleeping in her own shit



Yer mum. Getting up after sleeping in her own shit



You ewe



El burros



Get off my hand



Please stop cruising. Please?



Aggressive, deviant and defiant cruising - lawless and wrong



Get your claws off me nuts



Too close for comfort



Saying?



Readeh

Shit's got real

Chaos has reigned of late - Thursday nights have become THE night to drink everything in sight - meaning the Fridays of the new year have been character building exercises in endurance and stamina. Despite any efforts to cover up the night before, the red eyes always give the game away. Rats. Last Thursday culminated in giving a man with a beard a phone number in local late night haunt the Dolphin. 'Why?' is a question that will hopefully never be fully answered.

Elsewhere we ventured down the London Fields birthday for a messy 40th, acquired a new flat mate and sourced and subsequently purchased a bottle of Buckfast - the de rigeur drink for the Scottish alcoholic. A sampling session is imminent as the first pay day of the year is still more than a week away...



No



Losing one's edge



It's a Batty Rymer birthday Buckfast kinda ting



Wonky shit



When collaborations go fucking weird



Thursday night whine



Welcome to Hackney



Bargain business

It's cold outside but it's warm in here

Yes yes yes - Grit your teeth cheurbs - Frustratingly payday is still only a distant glint on the horizon. So a diet of one pot dishes and soup is currently stretching out in front of us as far as the eye can see. Thankfully there's some right, massive tunes popping out all over the place to stick the collective snout in. Get the beak round these...

El Guincho

If you're into wobbly, steel band led Spanish pop funk then you should check El Guincho. The video is a fine blend of tits, guns and egg smashing. Props to Ruf Dug for turning us onto this...

Ooh Ahh - Roger Palmer

When I reached the teeny weeny age of nine, this dude above was one of my heroes. The reclusive Oldham Athletic striker, Roger Palmer. After being the team's number one goal scorer during their golden year of 1990, he moved to Sale and became a recluse. His look is a strong one. Latics did a run of replica shirts late last year but I was too late on the uptake... Want. want. want...