Wot Ho again chaps!
Sorry to have been so long recuperating but the bones are all on the mend and the libido is back to its block busting best. Blimey, I could roger a primate rigid! Or is that I could rigid a Roger primate? Whatever, I am back, fighting fit and in fine fettle and that's enough F's to start an alliteration class.
Sorry to see that Derek is slightly miffed; understandable under the circumstances though and I for one would be more than willing to compensate the old duffer by paying for his parking ticket if that helps. My missus has the odd bob or two (and doesn't mind if I have the odd Doris or three wink, wink, now and again) so I think we can rustle up the dosh.
I can certainly attend a band get together either next week or the following one but will not be able to leave the farm the week after that as I have to inseminate a cow. (Well, it has been ruddy weeks and poor old Maybelline is gagging for it!!). Also, I have a farm fare to attend, all about what is the best way to fertilise a field. Should come round my house after I have had a chicken korma they'd soon find out.
Anyway, if a little wonga will help to oil old Derek's waters then I'll be glad to oblige. The bass is raring to be played and I am the man to play it so give us a call if you have half a mind to or are still interested in bashing out that old song of ours.
Yours in tripe, ketchup and odd stains,
Monday, 4 May 2009
Get it on
Monday, 27 April 2009
Let It Be
Or recompense me for the money I had to shell out to Lug. Ten pounds - not to mention a round of drinks for Lug and all his regulars. And I had to buy that as they were a particularly mean looking crew. Especially the guy with the thick arms and tattoos of the devil up both arms and round his neck.
So there I was. Sitting at my drums, which I had to carry unaided up two bloody flights of stairs with a nasty bend halfway up, and I’ve got a bad back. All on my own. A drummer sitting all on his own – can’t be many things sadder than that. Except maybe a band without a drummer! Then I had to carry them all down again. And my van got a bloody parking ticket!
Needless to say we’ve missed the deadline for the commercial. No money there, then. And that could have been a good little earner. So I guess this is the end of the line. I should have let sleeping reprobates lie, let things be.
Anyway. That’s it! No point getting together now is there? I’m out. Goodbye.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Highway to Hell
Er..Carl here. Um, on my way to er, a met up in um, Warrington. A bit of a er, whatya call it, er, um, brainstorm session.
Don't have much time as I er, um am driving and it is er, a bit um, difficult to steer holding a mobile and er, um a hand held um, dictation machine. Using my knees to steer.
I hate the M6 and er, um anything vaguely Northern.
er, er, ahh. Good news about the get together. We could always record er, the drum and um, then overlay the guitar in the er, um studio. As for live er, stuff, we could um hire someone.
Oi! Watch where you're going you deformed understain you should be watching out for me swerving. Haven't you heard of observation on motorways?
Er, sorry. Some idiot wasn't watching where I was going.
Ciao and out!
Monday, 9 March 2009
Build me up Buttercup
Sorry about the mix up witht the ketamine.
Understand ppperfectly how you both must have feltt. Old Bonzo's at it again. Not so my merry mates, not so but my dear old missesss has explained my stupid cock up to you already.
Have to say that it is a bit difficult to writte at the mo as I have my busted leg in plaster and the poor old stump iis hoisted up on high to prevent clotting. Not me you understand as I became fully 'clotted' years ago!!
My ribs are ssoore and wasn't helped much when this large nurse waddled in the other morning with an armful of bed linen. Apparently she had come in to change my bed, didn't see thee old bottle that I had recently filled that was laying on the floor and went arssee over ttip and fell onto my ribs. If they weren't sore before they sure as hell are now. She was a big lump of a girl to.
'Cor! Not 'alf.
Good to see ' organ morgan' back in the frayy. As soon as I am able to get out of bed I am up for the get togetther.
If in the meantime any of yyoou blokes have got a long wooden spoon that you can spare, please send it to me as my leg is itching like crazy!
Yours in blood, booze and bandages.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
I Want To Teach the World to Drink Champagne
Well, well, well. It is getting exciting. I hope we can all keep it together this time. Seems like we have us a band! Chas on rhythm guitar, Bonzo on bass, Carl on keyboards and myself on drums. We just need a lead guitarist if anyone’s got any ideas. I’ve tried finding Richard on Friends Reunited etc but no luck. Either he doesn’t want to be found or he’s gone to that great rehearsal studio in the sky. I could play the guitar of course, I’m getting quite good now, and we could find another drummer!!!???
I was going to book us in at my mate’s rehearsal studios in King’s Cross but he wanted too much money – so I’ve called in a favour. Remember that pub we used to rehearse in behind the King’s Road? I won’t mention it by name – don’t want lots of fans turning up (Ha ha!) Well, Lug, the landlord (remember him?) said we can have the upstairs room for the evening for a tenner. So – a week on Friday. That’s the 13th. Be there or be rectangular.
If you want to stay over you can kip on my floor. I’ve got a very comfy sofa bed. And it won’t be the first time we’ve all shared. (Although I will obviously be sleeping in my bed. ) By the way – good to hear from you again Miss Harpie – or should we call you Caroline now? And I hope you and Chas will let bygones be bygones. Maybe you can keep that reprobate Bonzo in order this time.
Chances of the Southern Welcome thing coming off are pretty slim now. They say we’ve taken too long and they need a decision. Well, all they really want is our signature to say that they can use the tune and change the words very slightly. I could just say yes – but I think we need to record it ourselves to get the most from the deal. It could re-launch our careers after all – and that could mean big bucks. I don't suppose anyone knows where the original tapes are do they?
Think what I Want To Teach the World to Sing did for The New Seekers.
Exciting times. Hope you’re all up for this.
Yours in music
Friday, 20 February 2009
Senses Working Overtime
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
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.
Caroline De Beauvoir (aka Maybelline Harpie) Margravine of Essex