Paperjam

During our soujourn last weekend to the Eastlands art picnic, Steve and I checked out VJ Hooker's YouTube Odyssey, a compendium of short films downloaded from the ubiquitous web site that is probably the main cause of lost hours in British industry.

The best bit was almost certainly this little gem, wherein the fool-pitying Mr T, wears an almost indecent pair of shorts and grunts out a soppy tribute to mothers all over the world.

The lyrics spell out the word MOTHER one tender line at a time. I was taking a swig of lager during the bit where he sings, "M is for the moan, and the miserable groan from the pain that she felt when I was born." Steve had to smack me on the back to stop me from choking.

The video has all sorts of cheesey 80's Reagan wet dream action going on, as horribly dressed kids are stage-school nice to their smiling mums.

You can see this masterpiece here on YouTube.

Plus you can get the lyrics from the MTBSOBSF web site in case you fancy singing along. Fool.

Thanks to the magic of YouTube you can relive this freaky piece of televisual history. The Smiths are on an open top bus going to Kew Gardens with a bunch of kids. To a soundtrack of Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now they have a look round, then Sandie Shaw turns up for a performance of Jeane. The kids look perplexed.

The best bits are probably Johnny Marr seemingly making the universal signal for "Wanker" at what seems to be a ten year old boy, plus Morrissey scaring the kids by acting in a particularly Morrissey-esque way. One little girl asks where they are going. "We're all going mad", he replies. You can watch this little gem here

Usually I don't shave in the morning (if at all) due to concerns I have about the quality of my levels of concentration and basic motor functions after dragging myself out of bed. However as I got up late this morning and had an extra long, steamy hangover-reducing shower I thought I would have a go at it.

For the last 6 months or so I have sported what could laughingly be described as a goatee beard, in that there was a conscious decision to shave bits of my face and leave others, rather than the previous regime which involved shaving no more than once a week and more/less resembling a tramp depending on when you met me.

So this morning I whacked the shaving gel on and started to shave, while absent mindedly thinking about going to the cinema later. Suddenly I realised that I had gone a bit too far in from one side and lopped off the section of hair that connects the moustache to the chin bit. Thinking fast I tried to even things up on the other side, not a good idea - you end up looking like some kind of morris dancing nonce.

Panic started to set in as I then next considered going for some sort of Frank Zappa arrangement ('tache with little bit on chin) - but that made me look like some kind of crap musketeer. The bit on the chin had to go, so I was left with just a dodgy looking moustache. "Bollocks" I exclaimed loudly.

After what must have been about three seconds (where I actually considered going out in public looking like a driving instructor who reads too many of those novels about the SAS) I set to work removing the 'tache. Quite hard work actually, took a few goes with the Gillette to get it all off, like a stubborn patch of weeds.

Surveying the scene I was not impressed, there was some sort of pale, surprised-looking bloke staring back at me from the mirror. Amazing the difference a bit of half-arsed stubble can make.The effect of removing it is like taking a picture off a wall, the outline being left where it has blocked out the light.

Even though I get a lot of grief for being a scruffy unshaven bastard most of the time I imagine I am in for even more now until it grows back a bit. Might go to a joke shop and buy a false beard.