Truth.

Hello chums and chumesses. I never did find out what happened to Jack's Shack or why Shloemoe the rizen has abandoned this place. I see that Steve after steaming his spotted dick in a Heinz tin has opted for a more "Catholic" approach to his avatar, it is not so much Sacred Heart, as Sacred fart. The 8th Wigtown literary festival is on too and last night we managed to cram 20 people into our kitchen as part of the festivities. There seem to be about 20 people in the shop at the moment as it gos. As soon as it is all over...

Today however I am afraid that I am going to have to bring your attention to other more unpleasant matters. Now you may or may not be aware of this but I have always had a contempt for those that deny the Holocaust, the revionist non school of thinking which seeks by non logic and dodgy scholarship to attempt to deny any and every part of the Holocaust. These people are liars.

Revionists will say otherwise, revisionists will attempt to prove somehow that there were no homicidal gas chambers at Birkenau, that it was impossible to murder up to 800, 000 people at Treblinka, that the disapperance of up to 6 million Jews in the Second World War is somehow related to a typhus epidemic and on and on and on. But underneath all this total and absolute waste of time is this:

"The real purpose of holocaust revisionism is to make
National Socialism an acceptable political alternative again."

Source Nizkor.org

Hitler was a good guy in other words.

Let's go back now to September 28th 1941. We are in Kiev, The German have moved into the buildings, set up their telephones and the like in the spaces recently vacated by the Soviets in their retreat. Retreating Soviet Special forces (NKVD) mine and blow up the Kreschatik, down town Kiev. The German conquerers are angry and looking to blame someone. We are now in another part of Kiev, near the series of defiles known as Babi Yar.

"...A notice printed on cheap grey wrapping-paper, with no heading and no signature, had been stuck on the fence."

"All Yids living in the city of Kiev and it's vicinity are to report by 8'0clock on the morning of Monday September 29th, 1941 at the corner of Melnikovsky and Dokhturov Streets, (near the cemetery). They are to take with them documents, money, valuables, as well as warm clothes, underwear etc.
Any Yid not carrying out this instruction and who is found elsewhere will be shot.
Any civilian entering flats evacuated by Yids and stealing property will be shot."

"I read it over twice and for some reason it made me shudder. It was written so very harshly, with a sort of cold hatred. What's more it was a cold day with a lot of wind and the street was deserted..."

Anatoli Kuznetsov "Babi Yar, a document in the form of a novel." Jonathon Cape 1970 or any Penguin edition.

Kuznetsov arose early the next day to see the Jews of Kiev depart and was almost trapped himself at the entrance to the cemetery. Because the assembly point was close to the railway station, there had been a general impression that the posted order related to evacuation...

When I got home, I found my grandfather standing in the middle of the courtyard, straining to hear some shooting that was going on somewhere. He raised his finger.

"Do you know what?" he said with horror in his voice. "They're not deporting 'em. They're shooting 'em."

Today IS the 65th Anniversary of the massacre of Babi Yar in the Ukrainian city of Kiev. Today German forces, police units and Sonderkommando 4a of Einsatzgruppe C. under the command of SS. Standartenfuhrer Paul Blobel with the help of local anti-semites, shot during September 29th and September 30th over the course of two days, approximately 33,771 Jews. A figure arrived at by their own tally.

"But for your sake we were slain all the day long and accounted as sheep for the slaughter."

The Nazis went on to murder up to 200,000 people in the area during the course of the occupation. These consisted of Gypsies, Jews, Soviet Prisoners of Wars, the mentally ill. Basically anyone considered by Nazi logic, not worthy of life ended up dead in the Yar. When Soviet forces drew close to recapturing Kiev, the Germans employed that special unit called Sonderkommando 1005 also commanded by Blobel to remove every trace of their crimes. In Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, White Russia, Crimea...they were on the run. So much for the 1,000 year glorious Reich.

There isn't a lot more to say is there?

Just to cheer you up and end on a humorous note. Consider for a moment, does the moon actually exist?

http://www.revisionism.nl/The-Mad-Revisionist.htm

Thank you.

Peace.

CwA


-very timely. Try telling this to Iran's "president" Ahmadinejad...

P.S. Here's this great quote I've always loved, from "Fiddler On The Roof":

(Talking to God)
Tevye: I know, I know. We are your chosen people. But, once in a while,
can't you choose someone else?


(T)

September 27 - Knackered

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox, Indie 1031. Five minutes after twelve bells. (Picks up guitar) Just arranging myself here…
Try my axe: (strums). Yes, in tune…try my harmonica: (blows a few notes) Yes, that works. My voice: (sings a few scales) La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la. Yes, that works too. Then look at me phone: Yes, got a couple of bars there. Got a couple of drinks (bottles clink together in background) right there. Ready to go. Just wasted two minutes explaining what’s going on here.

(big sigh) I’m absolutely knackered. I couldn’t be more knackered. Played football last night. Played the whole game, ninety minutes. We beat this team 4-1. I was running around like a lunatic. I had so much fun. Scored a goal, but I woke up this morning…I actually got up early cos I thought I was going to have a meeting with someone early, but it didn’t happen. So I couldn’t go back to bed and now I was just twiddling me thumbs for like, two hours and I have just absolutely zero energy. But I brought some energetic, what you might call, “rock and roll” today. Actually, Rhino have a good box set out right now. It’s all goth stuff, it’s pretty good. Comes in some good…comes in a leather corset, which I got rid of because it’s way too small for me. I don’t even think it would fit, um…what do they call them people who can’t eat? Anorexic. I don’t think it’d even fit one of them, it’s so tiny. Cos it just kind of covers the box set. But maybe it’d fit on a dog, like a greyhound. Probably fit on a greyhound, the corset. If anyone needs a corset for their greyhound, let me know. I have no use to it. (strums guitar) Oh, that sounds nice.
(sings some of “More Than A Feeling”)

I woke up this morning the sun was gone
La la my music and get my day
Dream of a girl I used to know
…eyes and she drift away

Steve: Aw, I wish I knew that bit that joined up with the chorus.

(singing again) More than a feeling…

Steve: No, let me change it:

I am knackered
And I can’t get no sleep right now
I’m so knackered
And I la la la la
I feel I need a nap right now…

Steve: Aw, I can’t even think straight. Got any ideas for songs, Shovel, or see what happens?

Mr. Shovel: You don’t have to do a song.

Steve: I know, but I like to push meself. What have I spoke about? Anything, anything significant?

Mr. Shovel: Just your basic “knackered”…

Steve: Okay, knackered. (starts out on harmonica) I can’t even blow the bleedin’ harmonica. (Struggles with harmonica slopping and snorting, until he stumbles upon an interesting sound) Ay, that sounds like a Rolf Harris thing! (continues)

Mr. Shovel: Didgeridoo.

(it sounds surprisingly like one)

Steve: Yeah.

(Steve starts a song and Mr. Shovel joins in with some Rolf Harris-like percussion)

I’m so knackered at twelve bells
I’m so knackered in ze evening
Why am I so knackered all the time
I need some crackeroon
to pick me up at noo-oo-oon

I’m so knackered all the time
I’m so knackered it’s so not my kind
In the evening
Oh I can’t even think, let me whistle again

(jumps back to the “didgeridoo” and by now Mr. Shovel has added that weird Rolf Harris panting sound as an accompaniment until the song ends, or rather, until it knackers out.)

September 26 - "Instrumental" (plus a bonus track!) "Beheaded"

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. (tests out harmonica) I’m just getting a new…I said I’d try and change it up with a different harmonica. I think this one’s “D”. But I don’t know if I’ve got it in the holder right. I’ve got gas today, so be careful.

Mr. Shovel: It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?

Steve: Huh? I haven’t farted on the air in a while.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah...about two minutes ago.

Steve: I just farted in Steele’s office (Indie Program Director Michael Steele). Nice. It just went on, on, on. It was one of them, it was one of them magma ones.

Mr. Shovel: I’m surprised you had anything left over for the one you just did in here.

Steve: (innocently) Oh, did I?

Mr. Shovel: (laughs)

Steve: Oh. No, I think there’s many more. Hold on a second. What’s going on, Shovel?

Mr. Shovel: We have tickets to Frampton to give away.

Steve: I heard Bush, kind of in the background, but Bush and some bloke from Afganistan was talking this morning for about twenty minutes, live. Do you know what that was about?

Mr. Shovel: No, but I’m sure it was not about anything that was actually happening.

Steve: Did you know that gas prices went down? You noticed?

Mr. Shovel: Um hm. A little bit.

Steve: I noticed that it cost twenty-six bucks to fill up my Prius. Normally it’s thirty. So that was good.

Mr. Shovel: By all means, you should shift your vote into the Republican column, then.

Steve: Oh, I know what I wanted…someone told me that Clinton ripped a new um, thing…bum-bum with that geezer on the Fox…did you see that?

Mr. Shovel: Um hm.

Steve: I wish I would have seen that. Was it, was it good?

Mr. Shovel: It was, but they just ended up making him look like a fool anyways, for being upset, “Oh, look at him. Look at him. Look at how upset he is”

Steve: Making who look like a fool?

Mr. Shovel: Clinton.

Steve: Really? I don’t think he come across like that, though. From what I…I didn’t see it, from what I…oh, well. You can’t win, can ya? Don’t matter what you do. (checks tuning on guitar) That’s sounds about…perfect. Just like the day it was made. Perfecto. (does a little la la warm up, blows into harmonica) What key is this in? Let me try and figure out. I’m into doing songs lately, I don’t know why. (blows harmonica) Oh, that ain’t right, is it? Oh, it’s “C”. (begins to play guitar and blow a tune on harmonica for a while, then stops) I don’t know what I’m singing, though. Got any ideas? Maybe I’ll just do instrumental. (continues to play)

(starts to sing)

Instrumental…(the "instrumental" has lyrics now. Mr. Shovel is heard laughing in the background)

Steve: (stops singing and playing) I can’t hear meself. What’s going on here? It’s all low and dodgy. Nothing’s happening. No echo or…the echo’s on strike or something? (starts song over)

Instrumental
Sentimental
Experimental
your life away

I am a test tube
Test tube, baby
Just finding my way
I like the sound of no words on this song

It’s better than words
They’re only words
and I like it
Yes I like it this way

Silence is golden
I’m going to send you to Coventry (?)
Did I mention that silence is golden
You’ve been sent
you’ve been sent to Coventry

I like it better with no words on this song
I like it better this way
I like it better with no words on this song
It’s more effective that way

Instrumental
Accidently
couldn’t write any words today
Instrumental
in the cathedral
of silence

It’s better off with no words on this song
I like it better this way
It’s much more fun
when you don’t have to
remember

I could never be in a play
with loads of lyrics
and cues and positions
and lights and action
and nervous stage fright

Instrumental...

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

From September 25th, a little medieval ditty by Sire

Be-headed


As I was walking through the village green
I saw bundles of hay
rolling down the cobblestones
I saw the huts were burning
And the men on their horses were waving their swords

I must run to the hills and get in the bushes
I must run and be a big coward
I’m not brave with swords
I leave it to the gruff men
I don’t want to be-headed

I saw some children get their arms cut off
And some women were getting ‘airy-aped
I think I knew one of the maidens
Better her than me

So I ran to the hills
cos I’m a coward
I don’t want them big grisly men
looking at me

I feel for the victims in the village
But you won’t find me
Because don’t want to be-headed
I want to see my head one more day
Where it should be on my shoulders
Looking out at thee

From September 25, 2006 Planes

It appears that we are in for another show from Jonesy's Bunker on Thursday the 28th. The band The Gossip will be the guest. Don't know a damn thing about 'em but they must be good in order to be deemed worthy.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s three minutes after twelve bells. Nice, summery day. It was a gorgeous weekend, absolutely gorgeous. We had a game of football yesterday against this German mob. We lost 4-2. We were all bickering around in the first half cos we…were losing so we all started moaning at each other. We kind of pulled it together for the second half and came back and got two goals. If we had another ten minutes I think we could have equalized with them. I got a goal from a corner. I kicked from the corner and it went in. That’s how…

Mr. Shovel: You bent it like Beckham.

Steve: I did. Bent it like Jonesy. It’s good, it was.

Mr. Shovel: Bent, like Jonesy.

Steve: Yep. Bent. Buckled, like Jonesy. It was gorgeous, though. Laid out and got some sun yesterday. Am I sunburnt or brown?

Mr. Shovel: A little pinkish on top of the brown.

Steve: It will be brown tomorrow. (sings) Golden brown, tan is like a orange, doo dee doo…never a frown with golden brown. What else is happening? Peter Frampton tickets?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah.

Steve: He’s not coming on The Box, you know. I just found out. He’s coming in the day of the…day he’s playing so he ain’t got time to come on The Box, which is a shame. He was good last time. What else is happening? Nothing much, is there?

Mr. Shovel: Looks like you’re ready to throw down some heavy, heavy duty rock and roll.

Steve: Yeah, I’m going to rock it today. I’m going to rock it like I’ve never rocked it before. I’m going to rock it so hard, we’re going to go into the outer atmosphere. We’re going to rock. Rock it so hard I’m going to fall off the chair. The walls are going to shake. Um. Do you like flying, Shovel? You a fan of flying?

Mr. Shovel: Not really. You mean like, a commercial airliner?

Steve: Yeah.

Mr. Shovel: No. Not at all. I don’t know anybody who does enjoy it.

Steve: Yeah…I hate it.

Mr. Shovel: Why do you ask?

Steve: I dunno. I was thinking about it over the weekend. I was just lying down, looking up and seeing these planes like, taking off and thinking how unnatural it is. You know what I mean? Like, a car, you can handle the speed and stuff but like, if a plane’s going and a hole went in the plane, you’d be sucked out. It’d be all over with. It’s like an unnatural thing.

Mr. Shovel: What’re the odds of that happening? I only remember that happening like, once or twice.

Steve: I saw it once. This plane from Hawaii. The whole roof came off. They were all sitting there. Thank God they were strapped…some of ‘em…I think someone…one of the stewardess ladies who didn’t have a thing on went flying out the roof with it. Can you imagine that? Flying along there and all of a sudden the roof comes off. God, never fly again if I was on that plane. I don’t want to fly again, anyway.

Mr. Shovel: I think it’s an irrational fear because you know, you’re just…as many weird things can happen when you’re driving a car.

Steve: I know, I know. But can you imagine being on the one plane that says, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We have some bad news. We’re going to plummet into the ground, smash right into the Earth. We have two minutes before this happens.” Can you imagine that? Them two minutes?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, that wouldn’t be very…

Steve: It wouldn’t be fun, would it? What you gonna do in them two minutes? Not much you could do. And the other thing I don’t like about flying, especially when you go on long flights and you sit next to some bloke and he’s like a carpet salesman and he tells you his life story.

Mr. Shovel: Well, you just close your eyes and act like you’re sleeping.

Steve: Yeah? But then, you do get a little talkative when you’re up there for some reason. Something happens when you’re up there, all them many miles above the Earth. You actually do start talking to complete strangers. That’s why they have them magazines with all that junk in it? Sharper Image junk, you know. “Buy this bleedin’ tease, mate cos it’s what you need right now.” And you find yourself almost wanting to buy that stuff. There’s something about being up in the atmosphere that you are a bit susceptible to being a bit silly.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, but how you gonna buy it?

Steve: Well, you order it, don’t you?

Mr. Shovel: Have you ever ordered anything while you’re flying?

Steve: I don’t order anything when I’m on the ground, mate. Cash is king.
But the worst is when you talk to the carpet salesman or the door-to-door guy. Or the car salesman and he’s telling about his life and he’s knocking back the little shots in them…you know, five hours into it he’s like telling you his deepest secrets, how he really wears women’s panties when he’s at home with his missus and his missus don’t know. And then the plane lands and then that’s it. You don’t even say goodbye. It’s like on a movie set where everyone’s friendly and the movie ends and that’s the end.

Maybe you’d get people to talk more like, if you want to get more out of like, bad people to make ‘em talk. Take ‘em up in a plane and say, “If you don’t talk, I’m going to sling you out of this plane”. Maybe they’ll do it a little bit easier than if they was in a cell, prison cell…you know?

Mr. Shovel: Maybe people talk cos they’re nervous.

Steve: Yeah, that could be it. That could be it. (starts to play his guitar) Am I on? Should I sing a song? (laughs) What should I sing a song about?

Mr. Shovel: I think it’ll have something to do with airplanes.

Steve: Yeah, okay. Let’s see if me old harp works. Gotta get some different harps cos I can only play in A (with the one he’s been using).

(sings)

Airplanes
I don’t like to fly the friendly skies at night
They give me the willies them little capsules
flying in mid-air it’s not right
No it’s not it’s not right
it’s not meant to be

Flying is for fools and silly jackabites and jack’napes
I like it when my two feet are on the ground
and not a million miles in the air
I like it when I’m in the driving seat
not with some bloke who’s had a drink
and he flies the plane

Flying is not my style
I don’t like jet planes or propeller ones
But I wouldn’t say no to a G5
if it was my own one
with no other people in it
making a mess in my G5


I wish I was mates with Bill Gates
We’d be flying high in his G5
I wish that I was mates with Bill Gates
We’d be flying around the world
in his G5

They have better mechanics on their private ones
Not like the ones on
American or United or Pan Am or TWA
I like it when the mechanic is working on my G5
he really does a thorough job

Better than the ones who are used every day
There’s more chance that you will plummet
into the ground with a load of strangers
Talking about their lives
to carpet salesmen

I’m not interested in your carpets
or your wives or your mistresses you jackabites
Carpet salesman on the plane sitting next to me
You imbecile you can take your carpets
and shove ‘em

If your carpets are so good
Why don’t you fly on one

~~~ ~~ ~~~

(BTW - yeah, "Jacobite" is the original spelling of the word, but I believe our host likes the word for what is sounds like, so I spells it "jackabite". - T)
~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I owe you a post

Some of you may have noticed that CWA has not been here, some of you may not. I don't know. I don't care at the moment. Anyway I'm back from the land of old computers, mustard, strange rural accents, turkeys, Crosses of St. George. And have I got a treat for you! A little Norfolk post. Or poost.

This is the Alternative, a shrine to Steve Jones and Mark Shovel and Jonesy's Jukebox. This is the transcriptorium where my very good friend Floratina, gets down the best bits of Jonesy for you to enjoy and savour again. Sometimes I do too. That's it, that's what we do.

Then again, sometimes I come up with a rant or an observation which has nothing to do with Steve, the box. or Indie 103.1. That's where the eclecticism comes in.

I see from Steve's page on myspace that he's got spots on his dick, dun't he knew that he can get some sorta pills for that? Broad Norfolk - a flat county within easy reach of the Himalayas.

That's enough of that. Or is it?

Awfully busy at the moment chums but thought I'd share blog-style some memories.

I'm back and got in last night after a month's sojourn.

Left Norwich at 11.40 Friday Morning.

Back in Wigtown 04.30 Saturday morning

Snore.

Yes there's more from the fevered keyboard of the CwA. Never you fear. I have not abandoned everything. It is good to be back but I didn't much feel like blogging in that stupid cyber cafe, whilst I was down South. I got in and got out.

Why did I go - do you care?

Oh well I'll tell you anyway.

A friend of mine bought 10 acres of forest in Kent so we went down to this party. That was a good time, camp fire style with guitars and whisky and BEER much beer. We lost our tent, well I did being rather drunk, my better half navigated it back into existence. Kent is nice, think "Darling Buds of May" and a stand-off between the police and New Age Travellers in a field and you will get the picture. Maybe...

Also parents manged a 50th Golden Wedding Anniversary and so I felt that I ought to get up there to Norfolk and be with them. Congrats to them!

Their 50th was all very jolly and many burgers and traditional English barbecue type grub was consumed.

Then my Aunt died...

When we were young yes I guess we were all close, we all lived in the same little village called Hopton-on-Sea with my grandmother. It's on the Norfolk coast. We were between Royal Air Force postings etc. Everybody was always visiting everyone in them days. So many Aunts, cousins, uncles. My mum only has only the one sibling left now. All the other 4 including her twin have gone. She was too ill to go, so I went with Paul - my nephew - my brother and my Dad. Got kitted out in a thrift shop,black tie and jacket. Service was mercifully brief, no fuss despatch. I'm glad I went. Now the fact is that the only time you or one sees your extended family is at dreary ocassions such as funerals. That's that, no fighting. No, "he was always a miserable bastard and he owed me for the piano, the little bleeder." type outbursts. We just aint that kind of family. Fishermen, brick makers, trawlers, labourers, we are that kind of a family.

I notice that my pa(w) has taken to wearing two wrist watches. Is this a sign of the onset of loopiness in his old age, or an awareness of mortality?

I had to laugh at Chispa's "I'm a Sex Pistol man" t-shirt, I want one! Check myspace. It is excellent as Steve would say.

I am going to have a good read of the blog when this all over but for now we have our second book town festival of the year, this is the one with the celebs. Not xactly A liners but all literary types none the less. After that Wigtown will go back to being sleepy toon again. Oh ho, I've just been handed a glass of whisky. I feel spaced after all that coach journey. It didn't help when I got off the coach and the taxi wasn't there to whisk me back to the byre either. On arrival the local youth were busy throwing glass bottles in the street for their fun. I felt like shit on a stick. When the taxi did show up, I was sitting in the back when I suddenly felt like my arsehole was blazing. First thought, "my phone (cell phone) has caught fire, next I've been administering chilli enemas to myself again. Nah it was back seat heating. I asked the driver what was the story and he reckoned that someone had been playing with the controls, why couldn't these hooligans leave things alone. etc. Then he said that he had a woman in the back last week and she had leant forward and informed him politely that her "fanny was on fire." Fanny in this case is not your heinie, or ass but er well what else lies between a woman's legs. Yes. Say no more.

I had some of those pot noodles when I was down South and some pie and peas too, oh yes. I was toying with the idea of taking a few snaps of this delicious nourishing alternative to nothing - with my digi cam - but felt that they might think I was a bit weird to get my camera out on the Norwich market pea stall and be snapping away. I restrained myself.

Seemed to produce an effect wearing bright red seditionary copy BOY bondage trousers and a GSTQ t-shirt - pin queen - all these drunks kept coming up to me and saying "hello," offering me slugs of Superlager, fights etc. All the crack whores smiling away, as they staggered back to their dens. Old England IS dying. These bone head skinhead Inger-land fan types were having a good glare too. Classic stand-off arms crossed. LOL. Fact is this was the clothing I wore in Kent for the stand-off with the police but as Ingerland was having a mini heatwave that stuff was the coolest thing, what not to wear. It was either that or black trousers.

I can't help feeling that it is rather sad to be wandering about in your hometown in such attire some 30 years or after the event, with a nice receeding hairline and a big bald patch on your barnet but I aren't one of these types who as soon as they notice that they are losing their locks, reaches for the Remington microscreen...yet. Please advise. It ain't cos of the Brylcreem either.

Clothes for heroes?

"God Save the Queen?"

"What do you want to save her for?"

That was the best quote.

Tina will be back soon, I'm going off to sleep.

CwA

From September 21, 2006 Deer

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It is three and a half minutes after twelve bells. Was there a fire somewhere? I went hiking last night, like around four, five…and there was just smoke…

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, there’s a fire in I think, Los Padres.

Steve: Where’s that?

Mr. Shovel: Don’t know. But that’s where it is.

Steve: It looked like it was like, West…out near Calabasas or Malibu or somewhere. It looked like it was coming from there.

Mr. Shovel: It’s that time of year.

Steve: It is, it’s very dry out. Very dry. It’s the first day of Fall, Saturday you know, Mr. Shovel.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah. The Vernal Equinox.

Steve: Does that mean it’s all like, downhill from that day ‘til the next six months?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah. It’s gonna only be in the seventies. All winter.

Steve: Oh, I can’t think of anything to talk about. What’s going on? Is there any…? You know when you walk, when you exercise, your brain thinks more and I think of things. I need to take a pen and paper cos I have ideas but by the time I get home and my heart rate’s gone down, I forgot the ideas I had.

Mr. Shovel: Take a little Mp3 recorder.

Steve: Yeah. That’s what I want to do when I go hiking. But yeah. Thanks for the thought. Maybe I just need to get my phone, learn how to use the tape recorder on that.

Mr. Shovel: Hey, that’s a good idea.

Steve: Yes. Oh, it’s Megan’s birthday today. Megan who works for Indie. Happy Birthday, darling. Congratulations.

Mr. Shovel: Fires are near Ojai, by the way. So there you go.

Steve: Oh, so I was right. It was up there, up that way. Any fatalities? Does it say any fatalities?

Mr. Shovel: Wildlife.

Steve: Ohhh. I saw three deer last night. I think they eat all the grass, all the ivy outside my house. I asked me gardener, I said, “Where’s all the ivy gone?” He says, “That’s deer eating it”. Funny, innit? They’re making a right mess of it, but I kind of don’t mind it cos it’s going…I like the fact that deer come to my house and eat my ivy. And they’re not eating anyone else’s cos I think they have different kinds of ivy and they’re probably not, don’t find tasty. I like deer. Quiet animals. They don’t bark. I like any animal that don’t bark. Should I do a song?

Mr. Shovel: I’d go with the deer.

Steve: Deer’s a safe bet, actually.

Mr. Shovel: But they don’t get the poison ivy that you get.

Steve: I didn’t say it was poison ivy.

Mr. Shovel: Well, you get poison ivy from your yard.

Steve: Out the back. Maybe they do. Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t get it though. Maybe they’re immune to it, I don’t know. Cos they’ve been living in scrubbery rubbery for hundreds of thousands of years. So maybe they’re just all immune to it, I don’t know.

(Steve sings)

Deers oh oh deers
They’re quiet nice animals
They don’t make no noise
Not like the dogs in my neighborhood
The ones that don’t get no exercise all day
Because their owners don’t care anyway
The poor old dogs are losing their mind
That’s why they bark all day

Deers I like their droppings
They have little droppings
Why can’t everybody have droppings like deers
They’re the best droppings in the world
Deers have the best droppings ever
They drop the droppings very nice deers

They can eat all of my ivy
I don’t care cos I like the deers
Deers are good and they run in packs
There’s always families of deers


Oh dear
Oh oh deers
They have four legs
And have big ears
Them goddamn deers
I love them so

They have nice furry coats
And big eyes
The ears hear every little noise
I like deers

Deer

From September 20 - Debris

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s four minutes after twelve bells comin’ up to four minutes, by the clock in here. It’s about seventy-five degrees. Nice. A bit hazy, sure it’ll be warmer…one more wallop before the real wintery kind of vibe kicks in. I had a good game of football last night, we won 5-4. I scored two goals, ‘bout time I scored a couple. Frustrating game. It was 4-1 at half time and they came back to 4-all. Couldn’t believe it. But we got a final goal from a free kick near the end so that was great. There’s a big ole article in the Chelsea magazine, the official Chelsea magazine, the October issue, there’s a big article with yours truly in it from when I did an interview in the station here after the show when the Chelsea lads were here couple of months ago. There’s some cool pictures in there.

Mr. Shovel: Really good pictures.

Steve: There’s a funny one with the classic Pistol photograph. They put John Terry and Lampard and Cudicini and Joe Cole on the heads of the Pistols. It looks pretty good. I’d like get that, put it on MySpace. I removed a bunch of people from Myspace actually the other day. I didn’t realize that the spies that I have, looking to find out if I’m not in their Top 8, they can’t check the ones that are blocked. You know the ones, they block their…you know, you can’t look at their profile?

Mr. Shovel: Unless you’re their friend.

Steve: Yeah. Which, obviously I didn’t put two-and-two together but the people who are checking can’t check them so I said, “Send me the heads of the ones who have the blocked things” and sure enough, there was about fifteen that were hiding in there without me in their top eight. I had to remove ‘em.

Mr. Shovel: That means they used to be your friend and they opted to get rid of you.

Steve: Yeah. So they’re gone.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah. Well, you’re gone from them.

Steve: No, I wasn’t gone from them. I wasn’t in their Top 8. Don’t you understand?

Mr. Shovel: Right, because you weren’t even in their top anything.

Steve: I was at one point. Don’t you understand?

Mr. Shovel: (laughing) Yes.

Steve: Gonna play some pimp today. A lot of pimp. I’m in the mood for some stuff. I’m not gonna do the voice and I don’t want to hear the same old soundbites for it. I’m just gonna play the music. Anything else happening today, Shovel?

Mr. Shovel: Piece of garbage floating around the space shuttle, that’s about it.

Steve: Oh, there is?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah.

Steve: Whatcha mean? There’s a space shuttle up there?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, they got some garbage floating around. Made a big deal out of it.

Steve: What, and it hit the space shuttle?

Mr. Shovel: No, it’s just out there. They were worried about it.

Steve: Maybe it’s a dead person, got shot into space.

Mr. Shovel: That’s what I was thinking. I didn’t want to say it.

Steve:

There’s a dead person

Floating around in space

I wonder who that person is

Maybe he was on myspace

Now he is removed because

He tried to sneak around

Without being in my Top 8

Now you’re too late

I put him in the cannon

Fired him up into the atmosphere

I left his clothes on

But I think they disintegrated up there

So he is knackered

You poor old sod

You should have left me in

Your Top 8

You’re out in space

Just a piece of garbage

Hitting space shuttles

And all them other things that do technology

What are them things called? Satellites.

You imbecile

Don’t defy the Pontiff

Or you will be removed

Removed

If you want to be my friend

Don’t just come and have a butcher’s

And then leave

Oh whoa

What’s it like up in space

I’d like to know

Is it dark looking

Back at the earth

Is it a happy place

It must look quite happy from up there

But soon as you get closer to it

You realize there’s a lot of hate down here

And a lot of wrong stuff goin on

Oh oh

It looks kind of blue

With some puffy clouds

And some green

Don’t let the blue move over to the green

Or we will drown

Please watch your emissions

And your fossils

Fossil fuel

The gas prices have come down

To make everybody feel happy

Oh oh oh

But you know it’s only temporary

Then they’ll have another jab

In a month or two

Oh oh oh oh

I wish I was a piece of garbage

Floating around in outer space

At least you don’t have to eat up there

Or sleep up there

You can’t do much but masterbate

In outer space

I heard it’s a better orgasm

When you’re in the outer atmosphere

Oh oh oh

I gotta remember to bring my Astroglide

The next time I ride in the cannon

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

A bit of September 19

I know I should have more, but I was goofing off last night when I should have been transcribing. (T)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s five after…no it’s not. It’s coming up to four after twelve bells. It’s nice and warm, a little bit smoggy. I felt me eyes burning a little bit, driving here this morning, because I do have sensitive eyes and ears. Just highly evolved hearing and sight and you know, sound. Anything. I pick up things a lot more than most people, before they do because I’m highly sensitive, in-tuned human specimen. Way more than regular people…so I can feel me eyes burning, a little bit. But it’s okay. Got John Cameron Mitchell coming in later on. If you don’t know who he was, he’s the…(correcting himself) who he is, he’s the bloke who was, I think he wrote, and starred in “Hedwig” in the movie and he started off with the play in New York and he’s got a new movie out. So he’s going to be coming on. That’s going to be fun. I’m looking forward to that. What else is happening Shovel? Anything? How’s the spinach going?


Mr. Shovel: Ah, I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to the spinach story.

Steve: The ibola, iola, ibola…


Mr. Shovel: e boli…

Steve: What is that, is that that thing that people were dying of in Africa and they bleed to death?

Mr. Shovel: Nah, that’s e coli.

Steve: Oh.

Mr. Shovel: No, wait. That’s e boli. E coli is the one that comes out of cow poop.

Steve: So it’s similar to…you die like that? You kind of internally…

Mr. Shovel: No, it’s not the same at all.

Steve: Why is it’s name so familiar? Coli, oli…eli…mo-my. I’ve got a case of spinach poop. What can you do for me doctor? Can you remove this for me? My spinach has poo poo on it and I’m getting very sick.

Mr. Shovel: We have Scissors Sister tickets to give away.

Steve: Oh, rully?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah.

Steve: (funny voice ) How many pairs we have there, Mr. Shovel?

Mr. Shovel: Two pairs.

Steve: (gibberish) Spinach.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, you don’t want to put cow manure on that.

Steve: What? I always sprinkle it on when I have my spinach. I find it most delicious. I don’t know what’s the problem. Ee oli, bo holi. (sings) Macca hula hai…what should I sing this song about?

Mr. Shovel: Well, being that you’re so sensitive and everything, I’m surprised that you can get away with that.

Steve: Well, I can also reverse it to things that, when I want my immune system to not deal with things, I can turn it the other way. Fight off anything, as well. When most fall to the ground, I’ll be walking…over ‘em.

Mr. Shovel: Cos you’re highly evolved.

Steve: Yes. My brain is the size of a Neanderthal.

Mr. Shovel: You’ve become immune to cow poo.

Steve: That, too…it’s only you know…cow dung, I think, is the…what we call in the trade as the real name. There’s poo, cow dung.

Mr. Shovel: Cow pies...

Steve: Cow pies and macaroni cheese and cow pies. You can’t beat a good cowpie. From Cal Worthington and his dog Spot. (sings) If you wanna buy a car, go cowpie. If you wanna buy cowpie go see Cal. If you wanna go piecal, cal put in your hole and…

Mr. Shovel: Whoa!

Steve: HEY LAYdee.

What should I sing a song about? Got any ideas?

Mr. Shovel: I’m not touching that…

Steve: Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Not without gloves on.

From September 18 - Spinach

Steve: What’s all this going on with the spinach, can’t eat any spinach?

Mr. Shovel: I don’t know. I don’t eat it anyway. I don’t care.

Steve: What’s Popeye gonna do?

Mr. Shovel: Popeye’s dead.

Steve: Yeah, cos of eating that bleedin’ spinach. Probably killed him. You can’t eat any spinach? Is all of it…bad or something? What’s going on.

Mr. Shovel: They don’t know so they’re just saying, “Stay away from it”.

Steve: It’s another conspiracy?

Mr. Shovel: It’s a fear thing, Steve. It’s a fear thing.

Steve: A conspiracy, right? Another Y2K. “Don’t eat spinach. You’ll die”. Are the spraying it with something? Nah, I don’t know. I like spinach, though.

Mr. Shovel: We have Scissor Sister tickets to give away.

Steve: Really. How many we got there?

Mr. Shovel: Two pairs.

Steve: Two pairs, okay. Um, what should I sing a song about?

Mr. Shovel: Spinach.

Steve: Spinach? Let me see if me harmonica works. (tests it out) Okay. You want a song about spinach? You got it.



Spinach
You must stay away
Come back another day
When it’s safe to say
you can eat the spinach



Greens
You must eat your greens
There’s plenty more than spinach
Yes there is much more than spinach
Yes there is
like

Broccoli
is here to stay

There’s nothing wrong with broccoli
Not today anyway

Maybe tomorrow

The pesticides will reside
In the little bits of broccoli

That will make you fear up from eating it

There is lettuce
Sometimes (when) you eat it
there’s little maggots inside it
But I tell the waiter
Mister, I didn’t order maggots

I ordered a nice big salad
A lovely mixed salad with baby greens
and artichokes and tomatoes
and celery and all kinds of
goody-goody-woody-goody-goodies

With some sesame
Sesame dressing
Yes I love my greens

I would eat the spinach
if there was any around
I want to die
I Russian-roulette
with my spinach

I heard the Navy Seals have a stash
Somewhere up in Fort Knox-e-o
Down in Albuquerque
there’s a truckload of Spinach

I wish I could get my hands on
I would spray it to L.A.
Get a plane and sprinkle it

Los Angeles
hey free spinach
But I know no one would eat it
cos they’re feared-up to the eyeballs

Ya poor old spinach
It’s good enough for Popeye
If it’s good enough for Popeye
it’s good enough for me hee hee hee

Poor old spinach

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

http://www.mtcnet.net/~bierly/popcartoons.htm for more Popeye

Last bit of Worm stuff

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Steve: We were talking in the commercials about other ways to go, where to go when you’re dead. Mr. Shovel mentioned, I actually heard about this as well, you can be shot into space. I think it’s not cheap, but you actually…do you go into space?

Mr. Shovel: I don’t know. But unless you keep going, I wouldn’t want to do it because eventually going to fall back down if you’re just circling around. But if you keep going, that’s pretty cool.

Steve: But what…why would you fall back down if you’re in the outer atmosphere?

Mr. Shovel: Cos that happens to everything. Every satellite eventually is going to fall back down.

Steve: Really.

Mr. Shovel: Mm hmm.

Steve: How long?

Mr. Shovel: I don’t know. Twenty years? I don’t know.

Steve: But if you could…put you like, in a black hole, shoot you into the black hole, then maybe you just circle and circle until they get so advanced…

Mr. Shovel: You’d come out like a piece of spaghetti, though.

Steve: No. Can you imagine if you circle for like, two hundred years, this place, Earth…we’ve all killed each other. Then you find some other planet, you kind of stumble across it and they find you and bring you back to life. Can you imagine?

Mr. Shovel: I think I’d be cool.

Steve: (goofy accent) Can you imagine the possibilities?

Mr. Shovel: It sounds like you’ve been smoking pot.

Steve: No. I’m not. Nope.

Mr. Shovel: You could keep going for a million years and run into another planet and they would find you and they would think we all look like you.

Steve: Yeah. They’d think, “Wow. What an amazing specie. The finest specie we’ve ever seen, anywhere, in the whole Universe. He must have been a superior one. The other ones couldn’t have been this highly evolved.” That’s what they would say – with their minds. They wouldn’t actually say speak to each other, they’d be saying it through their minds, though. You know what I mean? Telepathic. (pause) So you were saying, why don’t everyone, why don’t they shoot everyone into space?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, why not? Let’s do it.

Steve: Yeah? I think it’s expensive. But some people spend like, millions on a bleedin’…like elaborate, what do you call ‘em? In the ground?

Mr. Shovel: Casket.

Steve: Yes and they build like a whole…

Mr. Shovel: I figure if you put like a whole bunch of you know, pods of people, thousand, ten thousand, boom…one shot, that would be worth their while.

Steve: Yeah.

Mr. Shovel: Then we could colonize another planet with our DNA.

Steve: Hey you know what, that ain’t a bad idea. You’re in the wrong business, Shovel.

Mr. Shovel: I know. That I know, too.

Steve: You should be working for some government somewhere. Some agency.

Mr. Shovel: How do you know I’m not?

Steve: Oh, I know. I know you. Let’s play…two for Tuesday. From Motorhead. And this song is called, “Kingdom Of The Worm”…

This Day In Blog History...

It was one year ago today since this feature first appeared at the Indie website. Ah, memories.

P.S. I added a bit more to the end of "Worms" from a couple a days ago.

Hair

I just received word from Chris! His return home has been delayed and he will be back sometime next week FYI.

"We're the fellas in the dust bin"

September 13, 2006 Hairy Man

(after the opening theme ends, the first thing we hear is Steve playing “No Future” on guitar and harmonica. Mr. Shovel asks him how Bob Dylan would sing it and of course Steve indulges him with his impression of Dylan singing GSTQ)

Steve: I had to remove five jackabites from my MySpace this morning. Why don’t these people learn? I specifically say, “You put me in your Top 8 forever, or you will be banished”.

Mr. Shovel: By the way, I started up my own MySpace for my show and you still haven’t approved me to be your friend.

Steve: You have?

Mr. Shovel: Mmm hmm.

Steve: You know, I’ve got a thousand people pending requests for friends.

Mr. Shovel: Maybe I don’t want to be your friend.

Steve: Well, that’s alright with me. The only way I’m gonna let you be a friend is if you keep coming back and saying some reasons why you want to be me friend. Now just randomly just want to be your friend and then sit there. I’m not into the numbers games. I have less than five hundred friends. I’ve removed three thousand friends.

Mr. Shovel: Do I need to keep coming back and…

Steve: No, I just…what’s the picture look like on yours?

Mr. Shovel: Me, playing the melodica.

Steve: Really?

Mr. Shovel: Um hmm.

Steve: I didn’t see that. When was this?

Mr. Shovel: Few days ago.

Steve: I’ll have to have a look, Shovel. I normally only look if it’s like…

Mr. Shovel: Hot birds.

Steve: If it’s a striking picture. It doesn’t have to be a bird.

Mr. Shovel: It’s a pretty good one.

Steve: Yeah? Let’s have a look. Get it up on that ole piece of plastic over there.

(sings)
No future
No MySpace for Mr. Shovel
No I don’t want to be your friend
On MySpace Mr. Shovel
You can take your Check One Two
And shove it
(this cracks Mr. Shovel up and they both laugh)

Steve: You got the picture there? (pause) I didn’t see that picture.

Mr. Shovel: I sent it from my Helio.

Steve: You need something more striking than that, mate. That just looks like a piece of red…stuff dunnit.

Mr. Shovel: That’s what it is.

Steve: But it could be anything. You should have a logo saying “Check One Two” or something that’s striking. There’s too many people that put pictures there of like, rocks. You know what I mean? Or you know, a bleedin’ tree. You just don’t even look at ‘em. Something’s got to catch you eye with your picture.

Mr. Shovel: How about if I put my cleavage on there?

Steve: That would help. That would help, mate. You know what I do to torture people if I’m on their Top 8? I got this picture of this hairy bloke. He looks like a Persian dude. He’s lying on a bed, naked on his…so you see his ass and his back and he’s like, covered in hair. I like putting that picture up there.

Mr. Shovel: It’s probably a closer representation than the picture you have up there now.

Steve: Ayyyy. I changed it…I put the clown back, the jester. Got any ideas for songs? I wish I had an idea for a song.

Mr. Shovel: I was quite content with the Dylan.

Steve: You liked that? What about Hairy Man? This is always a good one to play, the chords. The “Drive” song, by The Cars? Can’t beat ‘em.

You hairy sod
How did you get so hairy
Is it something that you eat
Or does it just run in your family

You really don’t need to wear clothes
In the winter
Cos it looks like you’re wearing
A mohair jumpsuit

You don’t even need
A thing to sleep on
Cos you look like
The Sherwood Forest

You hairy sod
How’d you get so hairy
Did you have it off with
A girl named Mary

And I know that you can
Go to a place and get it waxed off
But it’s quite painful
At first

You almost bleed
I tried it once when I was into
Body building

You hairy sod
Oh you hairy sod

Who’s gonna wax your back tonight
You can’t go on
You hairy sod

Who’s gonna wax your back
When he calls
Who’s gonna shave your nuts
When he falls

You can’t go on
Thinking the hair’s all gone
Who’s gonna wax your back tonight
-not me!

Who’s gonna shave you down when you fall
What are we gonna do with all that hair now that it’s gone
I could make a cushion out of it
or I could
feed some poor people
Who’s gonna wax your back
when you fall

(The latter part of the song is was interspersed with Mr. Shovel's sound effects that simulate the ripping sound of the hair waxing process, some sort of electrical equipment and the anquished outcries of out host. The End.)

Worms

September 12, 2006 Worms

Steve: I dunno what’s going on, but in my garage this morning I noticed that worms go in there to die. What is going on? Is it like, the season of…worms killing themselves or something? Do they have like, an end of a life and then they kind of, go somewhere to die? What is that with worms?

Mr. Shovel: It’s a spiritual thing…

Steve: I mean, literally. I mean outside the garage there’s like grass and that where they probably come out of right? But they all go into the garage. I see ‘em like you know, worming their way in there and then they curl up and just die.

Mr. Shovel: Maybe they’re not going there to die, but they do because there’s no dirt there.

Steve: No, but their instinct would tell them to stay in the dirt if they wanted to stay in the dirt. I don’t understand it. There’s literally like, twenty worms in there. Just, just…they go in there.

Mr. Shovel: And where do they come from?

Steve: Well, I guess they come in out of the grass.

Mr. Shovel: Did you put some kind of chemicals on your grass?

Steve: You know what? I think the gardener, cos my grass was dying so he put all this stuff down. He put all this stuff down to…

Mr. Shovel: So they’re fleeing, actually.

Steve: Well, they hardly “flee” cos they’re worms and they’re very slow.

Mr. Shovel: Right, but they’re fleeing the best they can to get to a safe place and they couldn’t make it across the Death Valley of your garage.

Steve: You know they don’t have legs, worms.

Mr. Shovel: Exactly.

Steve: Nor bones. Did you know that? They’re boneless.

Mr. Shovel: Mm hmm. Like a filet.

Steve: They just kind of…how do they move, they kind of use muscle I guess. They’re just one muscle and they just kind of worm their way across…aw, that’s too bad. Yeah, cos he put all this stuff down to try and make the grass grow cos it was kind of not happening.

Mr. Shovel: Grass needs worms, though.

Steve: I’ll bet it must be the chemicals. That’s why they’re all coming in the garage. Aw. What should I do? It’s a bit late, now. I think they’re all dead. All twenty of them. I’m saddened now.

Mr. Shovel: At least your grass is going to be green, Steve.

Steve: Well it doesn’t look like it’s doing…

Mr. Shovel: Mister Green. (laughs)

Steve: I do think green.

Mr. Shovel: I know.

Steve: It’s weird. I’m going to have to have a word with him. Couldn’t he put down some anti worm-killing stuff to make the grass…

Mr. Shovel: Well you could put manure down there but then it’s going to stink.

Steve: I actually don’t mind the smell of manure, like, horse manure. I actually like that smell for some weird reason. It reminds me of farms. I like farms.

Mr. Shovel: That would be more eco-friendly.

Steve: I’ll have to have a word with him. Should I do a song?

Mr. Shovel: Ode to your worms.

Steve: Do a song about worms? Okay. Poor worms. Let me think…

Worms slimy little creatures
They’ve all tried to escape
Out of the grass
Poor little worms

They’ve got nowhere to go
They’ve been hoed
Now they’ve got to go
To worm heaven

With all the other little worms
And all the other creatures
From big to small
Big to small

I must confess I kill ants
Especially when they come inside
And get into your Weetabix

They really make a mess
Of everything they touch
But I do enjoy spraying them with stuff
And watching ‘em
Watching ‘em run for help

Poor little ants
The ants do actually eat the worms

Steve: They were all on one of them the other day. He couldn’t get away. That’s why they go in the garage, to get away from the ants, I’ll bet.

(continues song)

The ants and worms are having a war
But it looks like the little ants
Gang up on ze worms

Poor ants
Poor worms
They’re all creatures
God’s creatures
Yes they are

But it’s the survival of the fittest
And if you can’t take
the chemicals
Then get out the grass

Poor little creatures
You’ve got to get better brains
You’ve got to go to school
Like everybody else

So you’ll know what to do
In sticky situations

Let’s play some rock and roll, Mr. Shovel.

~~~ ~~ ~~

(after a set of songs)

Steve: All dead worms, come to the vestibule immediately. We will clean you of chemicals and put you back in the green grass.

Poor worms. They didn’t mean any harm to anyone. They don’t hurt anybody. Although they do…they eat us when we die, so they do have the last laugh. Unless you…want to avoid that, then you get cremated. So if you don’t want to be eaten by worms…

Mr. Shovel: So they’re really at the end of the food chain.

Steve: Yeah. They eat the human flesh and all the ‘balming fluids. What is ‘balming fluid? Why do they do that? Do we look that bad when we die that they have to kind of put make-up on us?

Mr. Shovel: I don’t know.

Steve: What would you do, Shovel? Out of choice, when you die, what would be prefer? To be ‘cinerated or buried?

Mr. Shovel: Well, because my family would be prefer it, I’m going to be buried.

Steve: Really.

Mr. Shovel: I don’t really care. But they need that, you see?

Steve: Yeah. I would rather be burnt cos I don’t like going underground. I get claustrophobic and my soul might not get out of there if it’s buried down underneath. Cos you never know. You might you know, like people say you come back in a different life? Can you imagine if you kind of, come-to, and you’re buried?

Mr. Shovel: What if you came back as a worm, eating yourself?

Steve: It’s a whole vicious cycle we live in. I don’t understand life, or death actually. None of it means anything to me. Why am I here? I know what makes sense, though. Let’s go and visit The Duke.

Men In White Satin

(Steve has just finished the whistle and announced the winner)

Steve: The song that I was singing was a song that should be banned worldwide but, I dunno why but it just came to my head. Probably heard it about fifteen years ago and the memory bank dialed it in this morning and I just kind of figured it out, it’s pretty easy. It’s one of the medieval songs innit, kind of medieval. Frilly shirts and tight pants on. I don’t have it with me…

Mr. Shovel: (in background) Damn.

Steve: …but I can do my rendition of it, see what happens.

Nights in white satin
Never meeting again
I’d like to smash your head in
Whoever wrote this song

It’s so medieval it sounds like Stonehenge
Sling a bone to the doggie
The one who’s at the end of the big table
In the castle

Cos I love you
Love you yes I love you
Oh, I love you
yes, medieval man

Man with hay around your feet
who invented the wheels
who raised the taxes
who lowered the drawbridge

The poor old peasants
left ‘em with nothing
just for the fat old king who got mega-gout
from rich foods
and drinking too much port

but I love you
love you yes I love you
oh, I love you
oooh I love you

Nights in white satin
They’re awful sheets
Have you ever slept in satin sheets
You slide right out of bed

I hear the brothers like the satin sheets
I have no reason why
I’d rather a hundred percent cotton
They’re much better on my skin

Who buys satin sheets
I’d like to know who
But I’m partial to purple

I’ve lost my train of thought

I’m a knight who wears satin
I’m funny that way
I like men who wear satin too
We have a right old laugh

(He cracks himself up, Mr. Shovel can be heard laughing in background)

Steve: Oh, I can’t take it anymore. Ooh, send that song to the graveyard. It’s already in the graveyard, innit? Men In White Satin…

~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(later in the show)

Guys in tight satin
They like to have a laugh
Where can I get some white satin
I wanna be like the other guys

I love guys in white satin
They really move my
Knob
I’m looking for some fellas
That don’t mind having a laugh

In the bushes bushes
Ohh, the bushes
Ohh the bushes
In the park
In the lavatory

You know what I’m talking about
Guys in tight satin
Jason king, yeaaahhhh


~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(still later in the show)

Guys in white panties
Never need no friends
They get what they ask for
They like things that bend

Blokes in white panties – pantaloons
Never needing no friends
They’d better watch out now
cos they’re gonna get a good kicking

And I love them
Lord knows I love them
Yes guys in white panties
Blokes in white pantaloons

Steve: Oh, I feel a little better. Cheered meself up.

Everybody Wants To Be A Star

From September 8, 2006

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s five after twelve bells. I feel like I'm getting something, like some flu or something. It’s a little scratchy thing in me throat…I feel weak. (plays “No Future” on guitar for a few moments, it sounds Beatle-y) Um, what’s happening today? Anything happening?

Mr. Shovel: Well, we have tickets for Jeff Beck.

Steve: Oh, alright, Jeff Beck. Oh actually I bought a Jeff Beck…(he is interrupted by the ring of his cell phone, he answers it) Hello.

Female caller: (slightly audible in background) Hey, Jonesy.

Steve: Yeah.

Female caller: So you’re not feeling well today, are you?

Steve: No.

Female caller: What’s going on?

Steve: I’ll talk to you in a bit, I’m on the radio.

Female caller: Okay.

Steve: (sounds like he cut her off) Imbecile. I think these people just want to be heard, go to any lengths. Could you hear their voice?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah. She obviously just heard you say you’re not feeling well and so she called.

Steve: Right. Ah, that makes a lot of sense.

Everybody is a star
Everybody wants to be a star
Oh everybody wants to be a star
Everybody wants to be a star

If everybody was a star
There would be no such thing
As stars
If we all were stars
It would defeat the purpose
That’s why they are stars
Cos there’s only a few

There’s no room for you
To be a star
It’s just for me and people like me
You’ll never ever make it
You ain’t got what it takes
But you think you do

You bleedin losers
There’s no room for you
On this roster
Oh you poor sods
Just keep on trying

Steve: Go on Shovel, say something. You look like you’ve got this…like you want to have a poo.

Mr. Shovel: You sound like my dad.

Steve: What does he say?

Mr. Shovel: Pretty much what you’re saying.

Steve: Really?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah.

Steve: Oh, cos he’s a…

Mr. Shovel: Well, he’s not a star, but…

Steve: He’s a meteorologist, star guy, right?

And stargazers are better than star searchers
We gaze into the eyes of the stars
For no real purpose

You want to look at the monkeys in the zoo
And the giraffes on the safari
And the elephants and their tusks
And the crocodiles and they all
Are stars in their own right
and zoo ooh-ooh-ooh-oooh

we’re all stars shining down
shine on down shine on down
shine on down shine on down
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(after the first set of songs)

Steve: …and before that was David Bowie, “Prettiest Star”. That’s for all you ones trying so hard to be famous. In the land that’s drawn you to this place called Hollywood, Tinsel Town…drawn like a magnet to a piece of lead…drawn you in and then spits you out to become prostitutes. Destitutes. Go back home to Idaho (with a) big “L” on your forehead. “I never made it! I’m gonna pick corn now for the rest of my life. Potatoes. Combine harvesters. Losers. Don’t even attempt to be a star. You’ll never amount to nothing! Do you understand how difficult it is to be famous? Very difficult. But…maybe I could help you, in a kind of a way…I have many powers.
And I’m not talking to the men, either. Maybe I could help you get a part…

Mr. Shovel: (sarcastic) That’ll get ‘em on a bus.

October Playboy

The October issue of Playboy Magazine features an article about Jonesy

This article covers many things with which Pistols aficionados and regular listeners of The Box are already familiar, but there's a lot more there that makes it worthwhile.

From the Indie 103.1 website (click on pic)

Steve, Jerry Lee Lewis and Mr. Shovel

(don't the Box boys look so handsome)

Our beloved ChrisWas should be back from his vacation by the 10th - hurry back! It's been a loooong time...you are missed!

September 7

A What's It All About song by Steve Jones

Life is strange
Life is strange it’s so strange
I don’t know where I am
Life is strange stranger than strange

It’s all ways change
It never stays the same
Life is strange too strange for me
Go to the Golden Gate Bridge
and think about it

When you’re young
You don’t have a care in the world
Nothing bothers you
Nothing at all

And then one day you’re older
and it hits you like a ton of bricks
Full of fear, mortgage
and a load of kids

Life is strange
Life is strange
Strange strange strange
Life is strange

What’s it all about
What’s it all about
That is the question
I want to find out
Right now

It ain’t in religion
It ain’t in gambling
It ain’t about shopping
It ain’t about sex
It ain’t about drugs
It ain’t about alcohol
Tell me what it is

It’s all about the big Greenie
The Jean Greenie
The Jean Jean Greenie
a-wonga a-moolah
dough-re-mi

I wish there was no crime
so you wouldn’t have to buy locks
You wouldn’t need bank doors
You wouldn’t need car alarms
You could throw away your club lock

But that’s unrealistic
Because we wanna get more
The easy way out
We wanna get
Ours
Mine
Yours
That’s what it’s all about

Why can’t we be friends
without an agenda
What do you really want, Mister
I ain’t gonna give ya

I gotta have faith
I gotta have faith
I gotta have faith

Without crime
there’d be no pistols
There’d be no machine guns
and weapons of mass nothing

What’s it all about
What’s it all about
and no Sex Pistols
No no

There’d be no Jerry Lee
The King of Rock and Roll
Oh yeah baby
What we gonna do
Where we gonna go
Where have we been
Who we gonna see
What we gonna do now?

Stuff of great import.

Is that a fez?

See what those guys at Indie have been doing with their Helio deeevices. In this episode we are treated to Steve performing to Klaus Nomi's interpretation of "Can't Help Falling in Love", clad as a "pirate".*

now that's just crazy.

I heard tell that this guy is going to visit the Box on Wednesday! This guy:

*Art Direction and Costume Design by Shovel Couture.

Happy Birthday, Steve!

It's almost *Someone's* birthday...

You look so surprised - surely you didn't forget!

Just a few more hours....

(this here blog is on Scottish time)