Friday, 20 February 2009

Senses Working Overtime

Hello Each,

It is Carl here, er, that is Carl Cooper, er, you know the, um, the old keyboard player from, er, seventy one to, um seventy six. Blizzard and all that. I, er, saw Derek’s, um, blog notification and, er, have, um, been reading the posts and, er, what have you.

Really, really excited by the prospect of, er, meeting up and, um, jamming and, er what have you. Be great to meet you all after, er, so long.

Since we, er, um, split up, I have been involved in marketing and, um, have now got an established, *cough, cough, cough*, er, excuse me, bit of a tickle in my throat. Er, by the way, I am using one of those ‘dictation to text’ machines. Really, really good, catches all, er, um, the words and er, nuances of speech patterns and, er, captures them faithfully onto, um, er, what you call it? er, text.

Yeah, neat, really, really, neat.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, marketing. I have my own business in Sutton, an, er, agency sort of thing. We, er, um, sort of design material for people. Our biggest client is, um, a pharmaceutical company in a, er, nearby Tadworth. No name’s, no pack drill but, um, you can guess who I mean, sort of made us really: er, don’t know what we’d do without them.

My partners name is Fiona. Er, she has, er, qualifications in, um, design. We, um, share a house in, er, Wimbeldon. Funky, yeah, really, really funky. The house that is, er, um, and not Fiona. Although Fiona is, er, funky too, um, at times.

Er, anyway, um, I would really, really, like to meet up with, er, um, all the old crew. Ummm, er, *cough, cough*, and,er, um, *cough, cough*, sorry about this, need some water, *cough, cough, cough*. Glug, glug, glug, ahhhhh, *hic*. Er, that’s better, must have been, er, a crumb. Yeah, really, er, would like to meet up and , er, have a chat.

Give me a call.




Friday, 13 February 2009

Wild Horses

Masuria Farm,

Ingatestone Road,

East Ongar,



6th February 2009

Dear Derek and Charles,

I do hope that this brief missive is not too inopportune and that neither of you mind my intruding into what appears to be a ‘boys only club’. Having just read your latest post, I thought it best that I contacted you to shed some light on Bonzo's recent, and very odd blog entry and to correct what appears to be an understandable misunderstanding. Bonzo is still feeling unwell after his unfortunate business with the Ketamine mix up and is unable to contact you himself.
You may remember me, fondly I hope, as Maybelline Harpie? Of course that was never my real name but a sobriquet that I assumed to cover Daddies blushes. I thoroughly enjoyed my rebellious youth and all the fun we had but, if truth be told, it was all a ploy to shock Mummy and Daddy.
Oh, but we did have some fun didn’t we? As you will no doubt notice, when you glance at my name at the foot of the page, my real name is, and always has been, Caroline.
But enough of me, let me address the matter of poor Kevin’s alarming experience.
Life on our farm is enormous fun and the benefits huge but it is all jolly hard work too. We have, for some time now, been rather concerned with one of our mares who has been showing signs of being in mild discomfort. Having spoken to the local veterinary, who gave us strict instructions as to what procedures to follow and also supplied us with the said Ketamine, Kevin (Bonzo) took it upon himself to carry out a simple examination of our beloved horse.
Bonzo then laid two Ketamine tablets onto a tray and, because he has such a sweet tooth, two smarties for himself. Unfortunately, and I am confident you can guess the following, Bonzo inadvertently mixed the drugs with the sweets. The consequence of Bonzo’s foolish mistake was the rather bizarre E-mail that he sent you both.
I, at first, was totally unaware of the hideous mistake and it wasn’t until I heard rather a loud commotion coming from the stable that I bothered to investigate. Imagine my horror when I blundered in to find Bonzo, arm fully inserted into the poor mares back passage, hanging like a limp rag whilst the mare, finding that having a grown mans arm thrust up her bottom is not a pleasant experience was bucking and kicking at Bonzo. I managed to calm the horse down and extricate Bonzo from his hideous nightmare.
Fortunately, Bonzo was blissfully unaware of the events that took place and I am told that his three broken ribs will soon heal. I am not so sure when he will be able to walk again though as his leg is now in plaster.
Anyway, thank you both for listening.

Yours faithfully,

Caroline De Beauvoir (aka Maybelline Harpie) Margravine of Essex

Saturday, 7 February 2009

So Sad About Us

Brilliant!!! Fan-bloody-tastic! Just bleeding great! As soon as we all finally get in contact again Bonzo is once more out of his head. You never learn do you, Bonzo? How long was that bass solo after you took that acid? Six hours? We were booed off. We’d packed away the gear and you were still going strong. And we might even had got away with it if you hadn’t stopped half way through to take all your clothes off “to be as one with the cosmic vibrations.” Then there was the time you found those red tablets in the loo at the BBC studios just before The Old Grey Whistle Test. What were they? Amphetamines? The bass part isn’t supposed to be played five times faster than everything else. We’d hardly started the song before you’d finished it. And shouting out “I win!” like that… No wonder they never broadcast it. I give up.

I was planning a get together at a mate’s studio in King’s Cross – to go through a few songs. Mainly rehearse Pink Dog. I know you're not sure about it, Charles, but the agency that has the champagne company’s account is hassling me. If we don’t sign on the line by the end of the month they’re going to use a different song to promote it.

But frankly, after Bonzo’s outburst, even though they're talking a lot of money, I wonder if it’s worth it.

Yours in music


Monday, 2 February 2009

Purple Haze


Chick, chick.

Chick, chick.


No, not starange.


Feel so bloody odd.

Psychotic Buzzard of the Lurid Lisp

Marshmallow muscles muster malevolent mustard meanderings.



Peter picked a pack of porcine peanuts.


Loaded man.

Loaded Man!

Chas and Derek sitting in a tree, Kay Eye Ess Ess Eye En Gee.