Anubis the Jackal

Not my suggestion, merely acting on the whims of Mr McNallys peculiar nocturnal subconscious. I'd advise reading his autobiography 'Tall, Dark and Gruesome' if only for the fact that he glosses over most of his films and bangs on and on about being accused of cheating at golf in some '70's Pro-Celebrity tournament. On the other hand, I would certainly not advise listening to his 2007 album 'Revalation' which is, in short, an absolute travesty. At some point, the producer really should have stepped in to terminate it humanely, but probably didn't fancy tangling with Lord Summerisle for fear of ending his days in a bloody great Wicker Man.

That's right, it's so crazy it could even be fiction! How does the priest argue about "the most significant" death? I can vision this debate as material Larry David would use for his show. "Dmitri had become so overwhelmed that he began tossing chairs and screaming angry words" .. "everyone stared at Dmitri"

...But Phantom still loved her.

When Oliver goes to sleep, all his friends go to sleep as well. The mice on the mouse organ... etc.etc.etc.

Truly sad news, a decent man whose work was loved by at least two generations. I think I'll have to pay visit the Canterbury Museum to pay my respects to the saggy old cloth cat.

Agreed, Mr G.

Not very well, I wouldn't have thought. ...... well what?

Can I out myself as a sad W**ker and say that I had actually heard of Thors Hammer? Thought so. They are on the 2nd Nuggets CD box set.

For any weirdos out there who may give a flying monkleys one about Chester City and Liverpool FC, Batchelor is in the soup over renaming lower-league nobodies

'Cos there's something down there Oh Globbits

"Change" I like to make things easy for you.

Oh, she's still dead.

Old Bummy hits rock bottom...

Ah, who'd be a doctor in Fraserburgh...? Good job they left the capital letter on his surname

A little harsh there, dtw. I know a fair bit about the old computemers, having built one from scratch for roughly £30 and 'found' parts which pisses on both my laptop and Dell PC. It's just a manual written in Chinglish, Virgin's nasty little surprise that meant all the DHCP settings had to be re-configured and the sheer illogicality of Mr Gates' baby that left me needing self-medication 3 nights in a row. (

Barry Chuckle?

Oh, and also sh*t off wireless broadband. I'm writing this on my laptop which is oh so convenient other than the fact that it took about 4 evenings to set the arsing wireless upb. Sweex? sh*t Off. Virgin Broadband with your 'Buy our Wireless Transmitter for twice what one should costb, or it's almost impossible to get the settings correct? sh*t off. Microsoft Windows? Obviously sh*t right off.

Am I allowed the famous "Any One Beatle"? Yes, all of them. John, the Working Class Hero in his Roller, sneering at the squares like the nasty small-minded little snob that he was. George with his stupid Transcendental Meditation, Natural Law party and god-awful solo career where he blatantly nicked the only good song he ever recorded and had to be taken to court to admit it. He's So Fine indeed. Ringo with his stupid f*****g trains and his stupid f*****g video message and his stupid little 'Peace and Luv' Most of all, You, Paul McArtney. No You were NOT the Avant-Garde Beatle. While John at least married one of the leading progressive artists of the day, you were shitting around making cakes with Jane. So all your experimental tape loop collages were apparently lost and of course they were all so much better than Revolution Number Nine. f**k off were they. You'll be saying that "The dog ate them, Sir. Honest." next. The Avant Garde was happening on the ESP label out of New York, Elektra in LA, any number of strange little sheds around the cultural capitals of Europe but be honest, Frog-Boy it wasn't happening in Abbey Road. "Hey lads, just walk around banging things for 10 minutes while we've got some dead time before Ringo sobers up and George re-enters our astral plane" sh*t off and Ob-La-Di yourself to death you stupid, miserly, self-aggrandising, mid-life crisising, failed plastic surgeried Monkey-f****r. Carnival of Light? Cavalcade of Shite more like.

I had a very vivid dream that I had to arrange the folky-style music for Isla St Clair's funeral. God knows what dark recess of the Freudian subconscious that little nugget sprang from.

A bizarre case of art imitating life or summat, Ring any bells, Precisionists?

Good God, I would never have guessed he was still alive (up until recently.) "There will be no insightful punditry from Andy Gray in the instant replay.There will be no insightful punditry from Andy Gray in the instant replay "