What can I say about INXS that hasn’t already been said. A defining sound. A sound that is definition. This collection of their greatest ‘hits’ - although that is surely too vulgar a term to sum up the cream of their works - is a pontificating mass of delight.

It’s a screaming great whore of an album eager to lick cream off your brown-eye for no extra charge because it knows that by degrading itself it also degrades you and in a universal way degrades us all - but with beauty.

It sounds like three hitch-hikers producing delicate whisps of steam on a cold Tuesday morning by pissing in soup tins and standing them on a dry stone wall in a chill wind.

Buy this album! And if you can’t - then don’t.

Everyone is having them at the moment. Is it fashionable or something? People are making babies like the future of the bloody human race depended on it.

But of course in this modern day and age where we have technology sufficient to let you know whether it's a manchild or a no-tail - no-one wants to know in advance!

Well I do.

If you are having a baby and are part of my social circle I will be expected to buy a card and present to signify the arrival of your spawn. Now, it is apparently essential (judging by the exclamations on the vast majority of greetings cards available in the shops) to get one declaring "It's A Boy!!!" or "It's A Girl".

This holds two problems for me. Firstly I have to wait until your child is born to find out what sex it is and then dash to the shops to get the appropriate card and/or present. Secondly - you will already know what it is and therefore a card dexclaiming "It's A Boy" - when you've just spent sevearal hours forcing it out of your womb with great physical discomfort - seems a bit redundant.

Do new mothers not sit there and read the card and exclaim..........."Hmmm, it says "It's A Boy!!" - well I f**king know that you idiot."

Why not just have "It's An Infant" and do away with all the hassle. Or tell me what it is in advance with the ultrasound thing - send me the results in a sealed envelope - I won't tell you. You can have the surprise when it arrives but at least I can buy you the obligatory baby gift in blue or pink accordingly.

Or just don't have kids at all and then I can still go down the pub with my mates instead of them always being too tired or saying stuff like "Susan let me go out last month, so I'd better say no, I'm afraid".

So I tried them for about a month. They weren't bad. Nice and discrete. Steady stream of nicotine all day long. Lovely. But, Jesus F. Christ, they're expensive. I mean REALLY expensive. Worked out about £50 a week with the gum too. Anyway - I have now found a cheaper alternative. My local newsagent sells small sticks of tobacco wrapped in paper with a cotton filter on the end. You ignite the tobacco and suck smoke through the filter. The result is both a pleasurable experience AND an instant hit of nicotine when you need it. They go lovely with a drink and make you more attractive to women. They sell them in packets of 10 or 20 and they even do special budget ones for common people. Marvellous.

It was f**king ace.

I was walking along today and spotted a bloke - dressed fairly normally - and overall in his appearance - seeming fairly 'normal'. He was on the phone and walking along towards the bank.

And then I noticed he was wearing a pair of pink fluffy women's slippers.

Bizarre. Looked totally out of place, particularly because he wasn't in any other way dressed oddly or being wacky or weird.

As he passed me I then noticed that what he was talking into was not in fact (as I had assumed) a mobile phone (of the Motorola RAZR type) but was in fact a small leather folding wallet that was hanging open.

Proper mentalist. Excellent.

Having said that - I then realised that with my 'normal' shoes I am much less comfortable and my feet are probably substantially less warm and cosy. Moreover - with my fully functioning Samsung mobile - I only ever tend to talk to idiots who I work with and am bombarded at all hours of the day and night with work-related texts, voicemails, calls etc etc and it's the bain of my f**king life. I can't just open it when I feel like it and chat away happily about what I want with no-one other than the voices in my head to talk back to me like you can with the 'walletphone'.

So.........he seemed perfectly happy, harmless, and living a fairly stress free existence. I, on the other hand, was running around like a blue-arsed fly, trying to do 12 things at once and keep a number of people happy who would all, if I had my way, be put up against a wall and shot.

So who's actually the mad one?

Whilst in Naples we saw a sign like this in the central station.



Turns out it's an advert for "A-Style". Which sounded good to me.

Sadly a clothing company and not a sexual act.

Because it was so desperately miserable and disapppointing and because we went there against our better judgment. Some friends of ours have young kids and suggested we accompany them as it may be "fun". Yeah, well done. Great idea. Remind me not to send you a Christmas Card and to block the toilet next time I visit your house.

By the end of the day I was so bored, cold and f**ked off that I wanted to chew my own fingers off and spit them at the staff there.

I momentarily toyed with the idea of lobbing the four year old child we were with into the gorilla enclosure as the wall was fairly low, but his parents might have taken offence in some way and I suspect the big useless tw*t-apes would have stayed in the gorilla house picking their arses and lying in piles of straw rather than giving the paying public some value for money by playing some primitive form of football with a toddler as the ball.

The only enjoyment was going from one section to the next making the animal noises that corresponded with the creatures contained therein. And that was mainly me, not the four year old.

If you want Zoo entertainment looks like you have to go abroad:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/3391859.stm

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/5049082.stm

I've checked online - it cost the equivalent of £2:80 to get in at Kiev zoo. Yet the shows they put on for the public are second to none by the sounds of it

"A lioness went straight for him, knocked him down and severed his carotid artery."

BANG!!! What more could you want other than some popcorn???

How often is too often?

It's a subject I often ponder. Usually whilst wanking. I wonder if some people may think my habit is a little excessive. Once, twice - even three times per
hour.
It's a perfectly healthy sport and gives me something to do in between jobs at work. And whilst on the way to work (don't worry - I drive. Wanking on public transport would clearly be quite wrong). And whilst eating my dinner. And whilst on the toilet.

Although that last one can be particularly tricky.

Anyway - I've come to the conclusion from my own experience that when you reach the point of climax and all that comes out is a small whoosh of dust, then maybe, just maybe, you could be overdoing it.

How come every time I order a dvd, cd, computer game, gig ticket or any other product or service online - even from "reputable" companies - there is always a box hidden somewhere way down the bottom of the page asking if you want them to bombard you with spam and/or sell your details to every company under the sun so they can spam you too?!

Always conveniently located a few inches below the bottom field on the form you are filling in so you don't notice it unless you scroll right down.

And do they ever word them straightforwardly as to whether you have to tick it to avoid spam or not tick it - or it's already ticked and you have to cancel it!?!? Do they bollocks! Feckers, the lot of 'em.

















[x] Please do not fail to not uncheck this box if you agree that you do not want to not receive continuous abusive emails from Dewie featuring mainly swear words but also occasionally naked pictures of himself.

The genius that is Danielle ‘Dannii’ Minogue hits us, once again, where it hurts - but also where it matters. In a very direct way.

It’s a cornucopia of sound dragging us - the unthinking, unfeeling masses - screaming and kicking into the new millennium. It’s a plethora of sound - a wall of noise, so unique it almost defies description. I can barely bring myself to say anything about it as it is so utterly.

It’s like the sound of a man sealed in a barrel with ten rabbits, trying to f**k each and every one of the little blighters, but, in the dark - with only his sense of touch, taste and smell - ensuring he never f**ks the same one twice.

Zoos are shit.

I went to a zoo that had bears (and I was really keen to see them having seen a documentary about a bloke who got eaten by Grizzlies ) but the f**kers were in the enclosed bit and wouldn't come out because it was cold. Miserable bastards. You couldn't view them from inside so I never saw them and to be honest have no evidence that the zoo actually had any f**king bears at all.

It's not the wild so the animals shouldn't be hiding away - they should be out in the open air bit being cute/ferocious/interesting for my viewing pleasure.

Paid a fortune to get in and the bears (and the lions for that matter) and most of the other good shit (i.e. anything big that could chew your face off) was not on display. Miserable ursine c**ts.

I would've poked them with big sticks or an electric cattle prod if I was the zoo keeper and made the bastards come out and dance or something.

And then there's "Pets Corner" - there were rabbits and guinea pigs for f**ks sake. What's a c**ting rabbit doing in a zoo? Unless you're gonna feed the little furry twats to the lions there's no point. If I can see one at my own house or in a pet shop it doesn't count and must be struck off the zoo animal list. Stop filling the zoo up with non-wild animals.

And the Reptile Enclosure - ooooooh, snakes and alligators - good stuff, eh?!?! Like f**king diddly was it. Several glass cases full of leaves and twigs and bark chippings and, quite frankly, f**k all else. I don't believe there's any lizard/snake in them - lying bastards. They're not that good at camouflage. Even if they are hiding - some f**ker should wake them up every now and again or use a stick to make them angry or chuck some hamsters in there so we see some f**king action.

They DID have alligators though.

The f**kers were three feet long and never moved a muscle. What a waste of f**king time. Even if they had been moving and/or aggressive I could kick their heads in without breaking a sweat because they were so small. Hardly dangerous or exciting.

I'm a child of the 80's and was raised on a diet of TV and wildlife shows. I've seen Steve Irwin trying to bumrape a 22 foot long croc and some beardy bloke having a dip in the sea with a Great White Shark three feet away from him. I am NOT, therefore, going to be satisfied with the "Wildlife Experience" provided to me by a zoo.

Make it exciting or just cull the lot of them and use them to make exotic looking handbags and coats.

We didn't even get to see an elephant have a piss or the sight of small children looking bemused whilst two monkeys f**k like mad and their parents try to explain it away as some kind of piggy-back ride.

Thoroughly disappointing day.

P.S. Penguins - you're f**king birds - you've got wings. Stop standing around and occasionally having a bit of a swim. FLY you useless twats.

P.P.S. Seals - where's your f**king self-respect?? You're supposedly intelligent!?! Well - if you're that smart and have any shred of dignity left - gang up on that ginger tosser in the wellies waving the fish at you and show him you aren't doing any more tricks. Slap the f**ker into the pool with your flipper and just eat the fish out of the bucket.

There. All better now.

Good Charlotte fall back into our ears with another squeal of an album released on their own “Twatchaff” label. Full of the sort of anthemic pop-punk that made us want to stab them repeatedly first time round.

It’s the sound of a teenage tearaway in mascara sitting on the toilet reading a book by Jello Biafra and really wanting to be him but actually smelling more like the big Westlife of a shit coming out of his pimply arse.

Songs like “Hey, Look At Me - I’m Different” and “I Hate The Fact That People Always Stare At Me Just Because I’m Different” are filled with the sort of genuine angst that takes at least three minutes to think up in their nice big houses in L.A. whilst being sucked off by tanned, bottle-blonde, silicon-breasted wannabes.

It’s an album so full of songs and sounds and ideas and melodies, yet so utterly, utterly empty of anything at all that you want to do is cry until there’s nothing left of you but a pair of shoes and a small pile of dust.

If you thought punk was dead - you were wrong. Punk is alive and well and wearing make-up from Miss Selfridge. And self-harming in the toilets to get attention whilst reciting the lyrics to “Mad World” by Tears For Fears. Yes - Punk is definitely alive.

Someone please kill it before Henry Rollins comes to hurt us.

It's all gone crazy. Everything talks to you these days. A little voice in my car's Sat-Nav tells me when to turn left or right. A little voice in my alarm clock tells me what time it is when the alarm goes off in the morning. A little voice in my Blackberry tells me when my battery is low. A little voice in my toaster tells me to go out and kill whores. It never ends.   more »

I hate Blogs. And Bloggers."Oh, I'm so interesting - I've got something to say and the world wants to hear me". Invariably they don't. So shut up and carry on surfing for porn like the rest of us. Not long ago my good lady said to me "You say some funny and incisive stuff - you ought to do a Blog". Not true. I rarely say anything worthy of repetition and I explained that only a loud-mouthed idiot who loved the sound of his own voice and the sight of his own inane and bitter ramblings would post a Blog. A sad twat who thought he was funny and interesting and had a very high opinion of himself and wants everyone to listen to him. So here I am. Watch this space.   more »