belle & sebastian de jour

the diary of a london tuneful indie-pop band from scotland....

Visited a friend and went for a walk. Friend's Dog-on-wheels came, too. The dog-on-wheels is a he and has a rakish one-ear-up, one-ear-down sort of look and one of the front wheels is a bit wonky, which gives it a sort of mechanised-lame-dog-on-wheels aspect. The dog-on-wheels gets all the ladies.

But in spite of his dog's-dog-on-wheels, low maintenance, un-M.O.T.d appearance, this pup has needs that mark him out as a little more metrosexual than you might expect. Such as scratching requirements. This is a dog-on-wheels that will push its bum into your face and demand to be scratched there, often, because it's the one place he can't reach - well, have you ever tried scratching your arse or your bollocks when you have wheels instead of paws?

So, we're walking/wheeling around the pond on a balmy afternoon, the sort you think summer was expressly made for. Ducks and a few honking geese, other people and other dogs - all of them on wheels - (well, the dogs are on wheels, but not the people - that would just be silly....) children playing in the fields and so on. Sir Dog-on-wheels is let off the leash for a few, wheels as far from us as he can, then begins a little wheel-generated dance: three circles clockwise, three anti-clockwise, have a poo and kick the grass over it - got his own shit all over the wheels, the dirty, stupid little prat-on-wheels! It's a level of fussiness about his toilet that is, frankly, unbecoming in a male - although I've seen worse behaviour from certain former cabinet ministers who shall remain nameless. Still, I suppose he did have an excuse, being blind and that.....

We hook the lead back on and round the pond. A child comes up to us, a boy, maybe twelve. His hair is long and he's wearing a t-shirt that reads Ha Ha Ha. Not on wheels, as far as I can ascertain. 'Can I pet the dog-on-wheels?' he asks.

'Sure.'

And the kid, he goes straight for the spot. The bum spot. Sir Dog-on-wheels is digging it in the extreme. 'You love that, don't you?' he asks the dog-on-wheels. 'My dog-on-wheels loves that too.'

As we go on our way, the kid yells after us. 'Don't do it too much, though, or he'll start to demaaaand it!' Which, of course, the dog-on-wheels already does - and for some reason I am reminded of the blind former cabinet minister who shall remain nameless. 'He'll start wheeling up to you and sticking his bum in your face!' And the kid sticks out his own bottom, and sort of wags it.

(Sorry about the lack of smut in today's post - I just haven't been getting any recently and have taken to fantasising about bizarre trolley-bottomed dogs having a pooh to get my rocks off. Still, needs must, I suppose.....now, where did I leave that jar of gentleman's relish??)



Belle & Sebastian's new single, Dog on Wheels is released on Thursday...



// posted by belle & sebastian @ 6:00 PM


Love on y'all,


Bob

Holy Shit!!!!

Howdy Swipesters!!!!


Regular readers will know that it is not our policy here at Swipe Towers to follow trends. We like to think we are an innovative and original force in web publishing and so we tend not to just leap on any old bandwagon trying to up our site meter reading in the hope that some global publishing giant (...or a scantily-clad Rowan Pelling for that matter) will notice our humble efforts and decide to shower us with moolah (...or preferably a bizarre baby lotion/Drambuie concoction in the case of a scantily clad Rowan Pelling...)


Rowan struggles with her deck chair: "...please Ro, will you just get a move on with the bizarre baby lotion/Drambuie concoction before this thing subsides...??"

But every now and then, a site will explode upon our consciousness with all the force of a new star and we will concede that, however fine and joymaking our own carefully hewn product might be, there is probably more chance of us fleecing a few suckers of their hard earned sponds by apeing an otherwise inferior design, purely because it has caught the imagination of the web-browser at large more than our much-neglected little gem. (Although, in the case of Belle de Jour, it was also a bloody good excuse to post up piccies of a scantily-clad Rowan Pelling about to administer a a liberal coating of a bizarre baby lotion/Drambuie concoction under the dubious pretext of satire - but that's by the Bygraves...)


"Ro - will you put the dang bow and arrows down and get with the baby lotion/Drambuie....???"

Our more discerning readers will already be aware that just such a web-nebula has begun to illuminate the firmament of the world wide inter-wotsit. Holy Moly has been putting us to shame in the readership stakes (just check out our site meter and then add a few noughts on the end to get some idea of how well the bastards are doing). But we here at Swipe Towers are not bitter (....angry, hurt and disillusioned, yes. But not bitter...) and we feel that in some ways the success of Holy Moly can only be a good thing for us. Well, it's poorly written, full of puerile one-note gags aiming for the lowest common denominator, so there has to be hope for us too. And besides, we have the upper hand in the piccies of scantily-clad Rowan Pellings about to administer a bizarre concoction...etc. etc. stakes.... (although, admittedly, the more eagle-eyed among you will have realised that it isn't really Ro and that we pinched them from the guys at nylon.net anyhow...)

So, as a tribute to the success of Holy Moly, we tender for your delectation and delight a well-intentioned spoof of that august and noble (blah-di blah-di blah...get on with it, for Christ's sake...)


THIS WEEK ON HOLY SHIT!!:



Cant's Corner

Each week, we hurl some completely unfunny and unwarranted invective in the general direction of one of Britain's best-loved children's TV presenters in the hope of squeezing some laughs out of a few thousand doped-up students who will then rush out and buy our silly book by the million so that their friends won't think they're clueless and inept:

I wish this severe fanny batter stain on humanity, Brian Cant, would just fuck off back to the hole he came from. You may have been shocking in the 70s but my nan is more extreme than you now, you speccy, has-been, retarded slat wipe.

You clueless Cant. Perhaps if you spend less time worrying about getting it mentioned in the papers your programme might start actually making some decent films again rather than a couple a year. Cant!

Next week: Kant's Corner! Your chance to hear us telling philosopher Immanuel Kant what we think of his Critique of Pure Reason - and in no uncertain terms!!



Save our Tenpole!!

Each week, we ask you to send in your ideas as to how the blazes we can resurrect the TV career of former Sex Pistols sidekick and descendent of Henry VIII, Eddie 'Tenpole' Tudor. Here are some of the really hilarious suggestions you came up with, presumably whilst you were having portions of your brain removed. In collaboraion with a global publishing giant (...or a scantily-clad Rowan Pelling), we will be gathering your pathetic contributions together in a hastily assembled cash-in book that you can buy now for a ridiculous price before giving it to your local charity shop where it will languish unbought at 25p for the rest of eternity.

Tenpole of the Bailey: Eddie plays a fat, avuncular barrister who is always going on about "she who must be obeyed" and prosecuting people and that.

Ten-pole to pole: Eddie attempts to recreate Michael Palin's epic demi-navigation - only this time actually reaching the other pole that gave the series its name...

News at Ten-pole: "...and on a lighter note, police investigating the murder of a a lovable cartoon baby deer are asking: "who killed Bam-beh??"

Tenpole-ice five: "...and remember: keep 'em peeled!"

Tenpole-dark: Epic period costume drama set amongst the tin mines of Cornwall and Angharad Rees' titties.


Angharad: "..go easy with the Drambuie, Ross. We be down to our last 5 bottles..."

The Holy Shit Personality Test!!


You can click on the link if you like, but I'm sure you can guess what will come up when you click on the button to start the test. If it's any consolation, it said I was one too - but not a big enough one to buy any of the merchandise that the site exists to flog off....

More Holy Shit when we can be arsed to see what new juvenile tosswank they've come up with (...if any...)

Love on y'all,


Bob

(...for more of the wonderful Elvgren illustrations and assorted retro raunch, visit nylon.net)

Cooper fans in Uproar over Fallout from Deb's Atomic Dustbin Liner Dress.

Debbie Hairy: Did I miss a bit under the arms??"


Yowser Swipesters!!

Shock news coming to us on the wires today concerning legendary pop diva Debbie Harry who has enraged her own fans as well as those of the British comedy legend Tommy Cooper. The furore was whipped up during a concert performance by Harry and her chart-topping group Blondie at the Bournemouth International Centre on Christmas Eve. Half way through a performance of their magnificent number one smash hit, Heart of Glass, Harry donned a comedy fez and began to impersonate the hamfisted magician and comic genius.


Harry: "I put ten pounds on a horse the other day - 10-1. Didn't come in until half past three..."

In a bizarre twenty minute extended version of the dancefloor classic, Harry extemporised a succession of inept comedy magic tricks such as putting an egg under her arm, bashing it with her palm and watching perplexed as a feather floated down. Wearing a comedy saw prop on her head, Harry introduced herself saying "I don't know why I'm laughing, I've got a saw head" before muttering "glass, bottle, bottle, glass", cackling maniacally and saying "not like that, like that!"


Cooper: "I'm always touched by your presence, dear... where was I??"


The audience who had come expecting faithful renditions of their favourite hits made clear their disapproval of the travesty unfolding before them by hurling abuse, beer cans and hastily knocked up facsimiles of P-45 forms. "She was bloody terrible," opined one disgruntled fan. "I thought we were going to be treated to an evening of evergreen pop classics from the last great era of chart pop, not some two bit Tommy Cooper tribute act. She couldn't even get the bloody voice right - why they couldn't have let Chris Stein or Jimmy Destri have a bash, I don't know..."


Harry: "...and then I put on some comedy antlers and say, "...it was a stag party..."

In an attempt to appease the dismayed audience and to forestall the wave of protests from fans of the great funny man, Harry announced her intentions to auction off the famous bin-liner dress she wore in the video for her hit Atomic and donate the proceeds to a charity chosen by the estate of the late comedian. "It's a bit pongy with a few bits of last night's spag bol clinging to it and there are a few rips and tears in it, but it should look alright with a suitably dishevelled hairstyle and a pair of ripped pantyhose..." said the luscious blonde pop icon before police persuaded her to stop describing the item in the interests of crowd safety and because it was getting one or two of them overexcited in the downstairs department.


Love on y'all,


Bob

The concluding part of It's a Wonderful Blog!!

...previously on It's a Wonderful Blog!!

Bob gets short shrift from Old Man Pooter when he asks for a loan to tide him over until a major global publishing house stumps up a 30k advance for his highly derivative pornographic novel. Unable to convince Rowan Pelling that a) she should leave her husband and children to indulge in a lifetime of legume and costume drama-based pornographic interludes with him or that b) his masterpiece chronicling the sexual misadventures of a Siberian herring pickling dynasty in Tsarist Russia - Who needs a gusset when the wodka flows like wine? - could be the Belle de Jour of 2006, Bob sets off to Martini's in the hope of getting laid and/or seriously stoned on carpet-cleaner based cocktails and class A correction fluids. Once there, he is buggered senseless by Zu-zu's teacher, Mr. Welch. Horrified at the prospect of having to press charges of GBH against a 17 year-old female Geography teacher with one arm, Bob heads for the Old Footbridge. He is just about to end his life by plunging into the freezing cold waters weighed down by a copy of the Christmas Radio Times when his Grauniad Angle, in the shape of The UN Security Council intervenes....


Pelling on Bob: "The novel's shit and you're not coming near me with that courgette..."

...we sit shivering, the seven of us, in the lock keeper's cottage - me, The UN Security Council and the lock-keeper himself. Why did you try to end it all, Bob? You have so much to live for, asks the UNSC - there's Kaplinsky Watch, Harrison Birtwistle's indispensable guide to contemporary music, Morton Shadows World of Pop, Melle de Jour, all the great satire stuff - oh, and don't forget Roberta Swipe's Entertainment U.S.A. You really have a wonderful blog, Bob. Gee shucks, I say, but I can't keep coming up with quality stuff like that every day (and by the way, can I just say you all look very fetching in that nightgown - is it Agent Provocateur? No? Oh, but it does have moisture wicking.....hmm, cool!) And besides, this narrative needs a bit more friction before we can resolve it with the happy ending so not only do I wish I didn't have a blog, but further, I wish that I'd never blogged at all!! So there, ner-ner-ni-ner-ner!!


Sexy? No. But does it have moisture wicking? You bet!!

And with that, The UN Security Council raised their skirts and, one flash of light and several very theatrical thunderclaps and saw-generated wind sound effects later, all was still. There, said the UN Security Council, as your Gruaniad Angle, we have the power to grant you your wish - although, sadly we can't do very much about resolving conflicts around the world unless the big powers can be arsed to do anything about it - it's crap, I know - but that's the realpolitik...) Anyway, this is no time for political grandstanding (...but can we just put it on record that we quite fancy That Nice Mr. Cameron and he's welcome to injest as many class A substances from our collective belly-button as he wishes...) So, Bob, you have your wish - you never blogged. Have a look around and see how different the world is without your puerile daily ramblings and warped sexual fantasies put up on the interweb for all to see....


The Rock Mother: "One 6 figure crack cocaine habit, 2 kids and an East European au pair to support..."

And sure enough, I wandered around what I thought was Rothergavenny Falls - only all the signs read 'Pooterville'. There was no Swipe Brothers Building and Loan - just hundreds of Pooter National, Pooter and Bingley and Pooterwide Building Societies - although, I have to say that they really do offer a lot of very appealing packages for homebuyers and savers alike... Disheartened, I trudged back to the Old Swipe Family home. I knocked on the door and there she was, just as I remembered her from childhood - fag in mouth, the contents of half a bottle of Baileys staining her blouse, quibbling over the babysitting fee with her east European au pair, staring blankly at me is if I didn't exist - Who the fuck are you? she inquired politely. And why are you wearing my snakeskin boobtube? Get out of here you pervy tosspot or I'll get the Neighbourhood Watch onto yer. What kind of hell is this? I asked myself - rhetorically, you understand - where, even my own Rock Mother doesn't recognise me!!??


Spinny: "...if only she hadn't let Bob's deformed penis and poor dismount technique put her off..."

I strode on through the snow grabbing passersby at random and asking them "How did the Arsenal get on last night? And where's my wife? She'll kill me if she sees me in another woman's snakeskin boobtube.... Finally, after several hours of torture (well, those Frank Ferdinand CDs have to be good for something...) one of them finally cracked ...she's....she's ...she's (yes...yes.....yes....) she's just about to close up the library!

The End.

(....But you can't leave it there Mr. Roy!!) Oh, alright then....So I rushed to the Amish Institute for Information Technology Library and there she was, a hunched, crabby, listless wreck of a woman - still, she's good with the kids. She just stood there, provocatively gargling with a tub of Haagen Das ice cream, hitching up her skirt at the passing Stevedores only to be bombarded with a blizzard of pieces of card with their phone numbers on. My God, I thought. It's come to this, has it? My own wife turned into a Professional Spinster!! I yelled out into the cold Pooterville night:

UN Security Council, Clarence, anybody - get me back my old life I want to go back - I WANT TO BLLLLLOOOOOOGGGGGGGG!!!!!

I come to in a room full of friends and family warmed by a roaring hearth - which reminds me, I really must put some coal and kindling in there and light it one day.... There's a huge basket on the side filled with stolen credit card details, compromising photographs of celebrity weather girls, a signed catalogue of Michal Hussein modelling her new range of exotic lingerie and all manner of other highly saleable smut. Still no photos of Zoe Telford, but what the heck? Allan's Ranting like a good 'un, A.Radiographer is schmoozing the room, impressing all the ladies by telling them what colour underwear they're wearing (....how in dang nation does he do that??) MIKE DA HAT has his guitar in a thousand pieces all over the living room - steady with those Zen arrows, Mike - we've only just laid that parque flooring. Todd Blogney and the guys in Grand Union are scaring everybody witless on the dance floor with their bizarre new Robert Fripp/zydeco/flanged marimba hybrid. Woody Goldstein just swizzled me out of another ten bucks at hide the lady (...I knew I should have checked inside the washing machine this time....) And then, just when I think the day can't get any better, who should stride through the door, a pair of asylum seekers in fancy dress Traffic Warden costumes on each arm, fresh from her lunch with the First Lady of Burkino Faso? Why, my old Building and Loan chum Roberta, showing off her expensively assembled breasts for all to see!! To Bob Swipe! she says, somehow managing to clasp Dirty Gary's neck with her ankles whilst simultaneously raising her glass - the biggest man in town!!




Well, Roberta - you're not so bad yourself!!


And as I hold little Lydia in my arms (...Jeez, how many dang kids do I got, already??) and she dangles the shiny Christmas bells in her tiny hand, the pretty little thing looks up at me and says, Daddy, teacher says - every time a bell rings, an Angle gets its wings...




Atta girls UN Security Council!!!


A very Merry Christmas and a Peaceful and fulfilling New Year to all our readers!!!


Love on y'all

All at Swipe Towers!!

It's a Wonderful Blog!!! (....continued)

Previously on It's a Wonderful Blog....

Bob awaits the homecoming of his war heroine sister Roberta unaware that scatter-brianed Uncle Brian has left the proceeds of the T4 Popworld Presenters Benevolent Fund in Old Man Pooter's lap. Back at home, Bob steps on FredandFreds finger, impairing his ability to learn how to Say Underpants. Meanwhile, Violet Bick has arrived in Manhattan where she has hooked up with a 200 strong Welsh Male Voice Choir and is about to be given a roasting she won't forget in a hurry (...and as much rarebit as she can fit down her brassiere....) We rejoin the story as Bob swallows his pride and pays a call to his arch rival, the money grabbing tight-wad Old Man Pooter......



"Well, 30k a year would probably do at first as an advance. By the way, can I just ask - what exactly is a novel??" Bob takes a well-known global publishing firm to the cleaners in 2006

...You called me a warped frustrated old man.... Old Man Pooter's droning on and on about how I never got to go to college, never got to travel, ended up counting buttons in The Old Building and Loan....why doesn't he put a sock in it, he's making me want to top myself....If I didn't know any better I'd say you were in danger of becoming a warped, frustrated, slightly younger man...oh just put a sock in it Potter and give me some dosh. But what would you be able to provide as security, Bob? Asks the cunning old skinflint, although he knows as well as I do that aside from my six-figure inheritance left me by Auntie Maude, the only thing of any value in my life is a two-bit comedy satire blog that pays out only if I can find a hugely successful global publishing firm to turn it into the world-wide publishing event of 2006...


A completely gratuitous Lisa Hilton, the woman behind Belle de Jour, says - "please make Bob Swipe the world-wide publishing event of 2006..."

I don't wait for an answer as his "you're worth more dead than alive, Bob" reverberates around my head like some spooky overdub effect from a movie. I make my way to Martini's, past Old Man Gower the druggist - you know, the one who slapped up my bad ear because his son had copped it in the previous war. Wanker - I've always hated him...I get to Martini's. Say, Martini, give me one of those carpet cleaner and vodka specials of yours - and hold the pickled herring. Wassamatta you, eh Bob? Martini asks. But I'm not in the mood for his Joe Dolce karaoke routine so I tell him what's wrong with Dean Martin, already? and lay with my head in my hands on the bar. I'm not a praying man, I whisper, but if you're listening up there, I really could do with some help - I'm just about at the end of my tether. I sob into my beer for a while before I notice that a tall man bearing a large stomach shaped plastic bag and a spangly dance costune is bearing down on me.....that's what you get for praying!


Joe Dolce delight at avoiding La Dolce Vita caption...

Well, by the time Mr. Welch had finished with me, I had an arse like a blood orange and a mood to match. Jeez that woman was strong - at least I knew my kids'd be safe in a fight if old Ma Welchy was on their side! I'd cut my lip in the ensuing melee - I remember thinking to myself - that'll be useful for dramatic purposes later on when I come out of the dream sequence. I ended up by the Old Footbridge watching the river gush below me in Shades of Grey - a Scary Duck bobbing about on the surface like a yellow plastic groaner (read up on your T.S. Eliot - I had to...) I kept hearing Pooter's words in my head "you're worth more dead than alive....your blog's shit....you can't write for toffee - give up you talentless twat...." until I could hardly not bear it not any longer anymore (...Christ, Pooter's right - I can't write for toffee...) I was just about to throw myself down into the hurtling chasm of watery doo-doos when I heard something at my side. A strangely polyglot voice let out a strangled scream.....Help! Help! Help! it said in five different languages, all of them heavily accented and grammatically precise and relayed to hundreds of delegates from around the globe by way of an intricate network of translators and headsets. Who are you? I asked as representatives from five of the most powerful nations on earth (and Great Britain) leapt from the footbridge, spiralling down before crashing into the dark, tumultuous waters. Help, cried the United Nations Security Council - for it was they. But little did I know that they would also turn out to be my Grauniad Angle!!




To be continued.....


Tune in tomorrow for the concluding part of It's a Wonderful Blog!


Love on y'all,


Bob

It's a Wonderful Blog!!

"...say Ernie - maybe I got a shot of some bad liquor or something....."


Christmas in Rothergavenny Falls: "...say, give me another brace of that mead, willya - and make it snappy!!"

...and yet everything had started so well. Roberta's homecoming was on the front of the newspaper and all of Rothergavenny Falls was itching to welcome back our heroine from the war. Gee, everyone was so proud of Roberta since she saved that entire troop carrier from the kamikaze pilot. Seems those Japs just can't resist a pair of badly shaved legs smeared in brake oil and piston lubricant doing the okey-cokey. Heck, even Old Man Pooter had to admit that just this once the boys from the old Swipe Building and Loan had him knocked into a cocked hat!


Old Man Pooter oversees another strip rummy evening at Martini's place...

Sonia and the kids were all fine - except for little Zu-zu who had somehow picked up a dose of the clap through running around in a skimpy blouse - in this weather! Kids, huh? Yes, it was all going smoothly until scatter-brianed Uncle Brian worked himself up into such a lather taunting Old Man Pooter about Roberta's exploits and her meeting the First Lady and the way the Old Swipe Building and Loan was in such fine fettle that he didn't realise he'd left the interest from the T4 Popworld Presenters Benevolent Fund in Pooter's lap instead of paying it into the high interest bank account. (And we were going to buy an I-pod for the office too...)


"...and while you're down there Violet..."

So, you can probably imagine how I felt when I got back to the Old Swipe Building and Loan to find an empty safe and a bank examiner hovering over my accounts. Then, as if I didn't have enough to worry about, the local lady of leisure, Violet Bick came in to have one of her Blonde Moments. Seems she wants to run off to New York to re-enact a Hubert Selby Jr. short story with a bunch of guys from the neighbourhood, and can I lend her 10 bucks for some knee pads and an industrial strength grit remover? Gee Violet, I tell her, we're all gonna miss you. Strip rummy nights at Martini's will never be the same again. And don't forget, I shout after her as she's just about to hit the street, you still owe me a peek of your garter belt from last Tuesday. Poor Violet - so accomodating. Still, she'll never be short of a cupped hand to collect her cigarette ash with abductor muscles like those...



But anyhow, I try to buy time with the Bank Examiner, persuading him to take a tour of Uncle Brian's collection of spangly tights while I try to track down the missing money from the T4 Popworld Presenters Benevolent Fund. I run back to the house and Sonia and the kids are running riot. Good job I have two other wives to keep an eye on them, I ponder as I replace the knob on the bannister that always comes off in my hand when I (....ahhh, make up your own gags - it's Christmas....) Son's trying to teach young FredandFreds to Say Underpants. Heck, does he have to keep saying it over and over, I yell. Well, he's got to practice says Sonia as poor FredandFreds starts to cry - I've been standing on his finger for the past fifteen minutes, I now realise. I feel such a heel for shouting that I try to make amends. Here, let me help you sons, I say. Look, it's easy:

U-N-D-E-R-P...

But he storms off blubbing to his mother's arms. What kind of a cockamamey house is this anyway? I shout And where's Zu-zu I ask? She's upstairs with a fever. I run upstairs and sit by her bedside.

- How's you fever? I ask her gently
- Not a smitch of temperature, Daddy! She beams back
- And how about the clap?

She falls asleep and I steal a couple of her opium petals from the vase by the side of the bed in the hope that I can mix them up into some super-strength narcotic that might turn this horrible nightmare into merely a bad dream. I storm back down stairs and as I get to the bottom, the phone is ringing. Hello? Yes, this is Bob Swipe. Yeah she's fine but no thanks to you, you stupid dumb ass penis brained lump of a woman. Listen, lady, that's a fine way to look after our children when they're in your care. What is it, huh? Can't you teach them to keep their legs together when they go out in weather like this? Ah, Mister Welch is it? Now what kind of a name is that for a female Geography teacher called Jane. Oh, you will, will you....?

But before Mr. Welch had time to measure me up for an all-over colostemy bag and matching leotard, I was already on my way over - pride swallowed and cap in hand - to see the only man who could get me out of this goddamn pickle I'd gotten myself into......


Old Man Pooter himself!


To be continued..........



Love on y'all,



Bob

Yasmin and Bianca Join Our Campaign to Induct Duran Duran into The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!!

Yoplait Swipesters!!

Great news today for our campign to induct 80s super group Duran Duran into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. We received two generous messages of support from a couple of very high profile supporters today and we feel that there's a real momentum building behind our petition to get the lovable playboys of Thatcherite pop the recognition they deserve for giving us such classics as The Reflex, Hungry Like the Wolf, Planet Earth and ....er, lots of others!!



Earlier today, we received the following communication from journalist and author Yasmin Alibhai-Brown:

Dear Mr. Stipe,

One of the things that makes me proudest about living in this country is the huge wealth of popular music that excites and unites our young people of all ethnic origins and class backgrounds. I've always been amazed at how young people with seemingly little else in common can brought together by the democracy of the dance floor. I can't say I've ever heard of the group that you have persistently pestered me to sign the petition for, Mr. Stipe (and, may I say that I hope you will take my response here as a signal that it is time to desist from sending further communications to me) but as your own keen interest in their being recognised has prompted you to send me several thousand letters over the past 18 months, I feel it is the least I can do to beg your readers to join me in signing the petition to induct the aforementioned group into whatever it was that you said you wanted them to be inducted into.

I trust that this is the last I shall be hearing from you on the subject.


Regards,


Yasmin Alibhai-Brown



I'm sure you'll all agree that Yasmin's beautifully worded pleas will do our campaign no end of good. But better still was to come with the second post. We found the following scrawled on a piece of paper wrapped around a stone that had miraculously crashed through the third floor window here at Swipe Towers, concussing Brenda from accounts and causing an unfortunate overbite incident that necessitated Graham from advertising having to be rushed to casualty (..although, I'm sure Graham doesn't need me to remind him that he really shouldn't have let her go down there in the first place - what with Brenda's reputation and the small matter that she is 8 months pregnant as we speak...)

To whom it may concern:

I do not like Duran and I do not like that you contact me with such persistence about inducing them in your silly Fame Hall. I have had enough of your Rock and Roll to last several live times. Oh sure, it fine at first - marry him in South France, champagne, cocktails, Terry and his All Gold. But then he tire of you and it is all "me, me, me, me, me" and when you tell him that you had enough chocolate to last a month, it is no good - still he beg and threaten to write song about you if you not complying him with bizarre cunnilingus request. So, no more of your Duran - I would not vote them if you pay me. I go into politics and kindly ask you spare thought for the rainforests from the country what I come from - not your two pence halfpenny disco oompah group with the big hair and the big belly.


Saving the trees, please,


Bianca



So Swipesters, please, just one more push and we can give Simon, Roger, John and Nick the nicest Christmas present imaginable - a place in that good ol' Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. So, sign here, and make the dream real!!


Love on y'all,


Bob

BBC to Launch Classy New Saturday Night Family Show

Yo Swipesters!!


News reaches us here of a high quality new BBC reality format set to follow in the footsteps of the hugely successful Strictly Come Dancing in the coveted early evening slot on Saturday nights. The new show will follow 10 celebrities as they battle it out to earn the most money plying their trade as high-class call girls, gigolos, lapdancers and adult chatline operatives in Strictly on the Game!!! The bookies have already installed actress Tara Fitzgerald as the favourite to scoop up the coveted award but host Bruce Forsyth warned viewers to "expect the unexpected" from a strong field of contestants including Ainsley Harriet, Bob Carolgees, Fiona Phillips and Scarlet Johansson.


Tara: "Ra-boom-di-ay"

"It's going to be a fantastic show! It's got everything - seedy backroom sex, pole dancing, lights, music, glamour and sexually transmitted diseases. Oh and yoghurt - lots of yoghurt! I will be in my element and I've been dusting down some of my old catchphrases - I can't wait to tell Fiona 'didn't she do well!' I just hope we don't run out of navvies for her half way through... Obviously the punters won't need to play their cards right, just discreetly hand over a bundle of untraceable bank notes before retiring to a darkened room for 5 minutes - although, obviously you probably will get something for a pair on this show - most probably a two way stretch or a dose of the clap. And each week we'll be keeping tabs on the number of clients our resident professional pimps have been able to secure for our amateur sex professionals. So when I yell, "let's have a look at the old Score Board, you'll know exactly what I'm on about. Ooh look at the muck in here - hang on, that's not mine. And who's Everard?? What's up with this auto-cue, Tess?"


Brucie & Tess: "How much?"

Each week, the celebrities will be groomed by professionals from the criminal underworld - although Simon Cowell declined to take part in the show as he is too busy counting the money he made from several million retards ringing up to vote for talentless mingers on the X-Factor. Each week the contestants will try their hand at a different aspect of the sex trade and will be judged according to the amount that they earn from their punters. Although classy actress Tara is expected to do well in the high class hooker event where she will be able to entertain clients for extraordinary sums at a Pall Mall residence, insiders are quietly confident that Fiona Phillips, whose prowess at the brisk twenty note knee-trembler in the alley by the Bingo Hall is legendary, may give her a run for her money. Dawn French has also been tipped to excel in the phone sex round which she will take part in from a specially adjusted booth. Producers are confident that the new format with its solid cash-equals-points scoring system will avoid the controversy that marred the final of Strictly Come Dancing. Millions of viewers were astonished when athlete Colin Jackson, whose grace, style and athleticism on the dancefloor had led some to believe he had the talent to dance professionally, was beaten in the viewers' vote by cricketer Darren Gough dancing with all the flair and fluidity of one of those calipered child collection boxes you used to see on street corners.


Scarlet woman: "just leave it on the side and get out...."

Forsyth's co-presenter Tess Daly was equally enthusiastic. "I can't wait for the first show. As a treat I've managed to wangle my hubby Vernon a spot as one of the punters. Well, I never have a moment's peace with him always pawing away at me while I'm practicing tie-dye or upholstering the settee so I'm just hoping Fiona can keep him tied up long enough for me to finish crocheting him a cardie for next Christmas..."

Strictly on the Game hits our screens in the new year...


Love on y'all,




Bob

Cross-eyed Registrar Plunges First Civil Partnership Ceremonies into Chaos as Ellen and Portia Both Wed George Michaels - Exclusive!!

Hot-diggety Swipesters!

In a bizarre service worthy of a Laurel & Hardy short, Ellen de Generes and Portia di Rossi were both accidentally married to George Michaels today as same-sex Civil Partnerships became legal in Northern Ireland. The couple had hoped to marry one another but due to extraordinary demand for the new Civil Partnerships, found themselves queueing to be wed by the same Registrar as the former member of Wham! and his prospective partner. But sadly, amid the teeming masses waiting to be joined in Civil Partnership, the boss-eyed civil servant's unfortunate habit of looking at de Generes when he was talking to George Michael's long-term partner Kenny Goss meant that at the crucial moment, the American comedienne blurted out her vows and unwittingly hitched herself to the gay icon and outspoken singer-songwriter instead of her own long-standing partner di Rossi.



To further complicate matters, in the shocked aftermath of the de Generes/Michael union, a confused and barely coherent di Rossi herself mistakenly accepted the troth of her young Arrested Development co-star Michael Cera. Cera, a guest of di Rossi's at the service and who, in a slice of comedic good fortune that would otherwise render this item completely gagless, also happens to play a character called George Michael in the hit TV comedy, had merely been trying to attract the Registrar's attention in order to excuse himself from the ceremony due to an urgent call of nature. But in a piece of pathetic slapstick unbecoming a civic dignitary, his frantic arm-waving was misread by the visually impaired and completely incompetent Registrar as a declaration of intent to marry the stunning Australian-born actress. Due to a loophole in the new legislation, couples brought together in the new partnerships must remain married for at least a month before they can severe the unions. So, in an attempt to cut their losses, both sets of wrongly-weds have decided to continue with their respective honeymoon plans regardless before attempting to extricate themselves from their erroneously entered into partnerships early in the new year.




But it was not all bad news. "Obviously, I've lucked out here", said a beaming and red-cheeked young Michael Cera from outside the honeymoon in suite in the Bahamas where he and di Rossi have been ensconced since their limousine carried them from the Registry Office, "but you've got to feel for Ellen and George. The whole idea of these new ceremonies is to allow same-sex unions so it does seem to be rather a dumb-assed way to go about things by marrying someone in the conventional manner. I just hope the anullment is a long time coming", said the scantily-clad young actor as he disappeared back into the suite with a tub of coconut oil and a loofah.



Meanwhile, George Michael and Ellen de Generesa read a pre-prepared statement from their yacht:

"We would like to apologise to all our friends and family for any inconvenience this misunderstanding has caused. Fortunately we have all been able to see the funny side of it and we'll have another crack in the new year. Next time we'll be bringing our own Registrar and giving him or her a full eye-test before we let them anywhere near the Registry Office!"


Love on y'all,




Bob

Robert Swipe Christmas Appeal Update - Elton Records Charity Single to aid Penniless T4 Popworld Presenters - Exclusive!!

Hi Swipesters!!

Great news concerning this year's Swipe Show Christmas appeal. Pop icon and celebrity host with the most, Sir Elton John has pledged to raise funds to bring relief to this year's chosen Charity. This is great news for our campaign to help ease the suffering of the impoverished presenters of Channel 4's teenage music programme, T4 Popworld. Regular readers will know that, despite their apparently glamorous occupation, presenters Miquita Oliver and Simon Amstell are living in desperate poverty . Beneath the extravagent facade of their 24-hour party people lifestyles the pair have, in reality, barely two pennies to rub together and are often reduced to petty squabbling and undignified wrestling bouts over the crumbling remnants of Tesco economy biscuits and discarded dog ends in the abandoned council home in North London where they have been squatting for the past 18 months. We would normally shy away from using graphic images to emotionally blackmail you into donating sackfuls of cash which we would then siphon off into high interest accounts in collusion with our partners in the world of high finance, but this year the situation has become so bad that we feel we have no other option. These shocking images brought to you courtesy of our friends at TartyDoris.com reveal the terrible truth of life on the breadline this Christmas for two innocent T4 hosts. Some viewers may find them disturbing.



At first glance, the pair look like any normal adolescents being paid in excess of 4 figures a week to provide harmless banter between shockingly trite videos and interviews with self-obsessed RADA dropouts who have decided to become 'pop stars'. But a closer look reveals the harsh realities of life for these desperate, desperate people. Notice how Simon's hair lends him the demeanor of someone who has been dragged through a hedge backwards. For many, such an appearance would be the sign of a calculated fashion statement aimed at cultivating a particularly 'grunge-y' look, but in this case, it is quite literally true. Simon has not been able to afford a comb since his family deserted him, escaping the dehumanising poverty of the Home Counties on foot to seek a better life in South Africa, where they now own several thousand acres spread over prime wine-yielding land and have lucrative investments in the local goldmines. One of the few benefits brought by our otherwise harsh and unforgiving British winter is the multitude of leafless hedges it brings and through which Simon can drag himself through backwards in order to bring some semblance of order to his otherwise chaotic locks. Simon's clothes were all bought secondhand from charity shops and he is now so poor that he was not even able to haggle a discount at the FARA Romaninan Orphans Shop to buy the burgundy sweater that would have matched his skin tones and instead had to settle for this lurid lime green, unfit even for the local golf course. But however bad things are for Simon, worse still is the plight of his co-presenter. Miquita was recently forced to go on air wearing a pair of badly laddered tights (see close up below)



and a Primark buy 1 get 17 free t-shirt made from the flimsiest cotton sewn together in sweatshops by disadvantaged Korean children who can expect to earn less in 5,000 lifetimes than the radiant young television gets for a two minute link slot between the latest McFly video and an advertisement for KFC. Even more disturbingly still, as our close up shows, Miquita, herself barely old enough to work legally in the first place and reduced to using remaindered children's crayon in place of proper adult mascara, has been sent out before the cameras with no skirt on at all! Relief workers fear that the desperate teenager is ripe for expoitation by the Channel's budding sex industries - possibly as the subject of scantily clad calendars, premium rate saucy chatlines or so-called satirical weblogs publishing close-ups of her exposed lower portions. The world waits on in hope.



But all is not lost. There is just such a glimmer of hope at hand in the shape of a rotund and bewigged old pop singer. Elton John has pledged to donate the royalties from a re-recording of his 80s hit Nikita to aid the poverty-striken duo. "I hate to see anyone worrying about where the next armful of CDs is coming from or having to decide whether to eat or buy a ridiculously ostentatious floral display with which to decorate the shitter - especially at this time of year. But when they're fellow troupers, it really brings it home to you how exceedingly rich and pampered one's own life is. Thank Christ!" The knight and eminent poove has cut a re-worded version of his classic cold war-era ballad asking, "Hey, Miquita, are you cold? With those holes in your tights letting in a heck of a draft....". Badly rhymed and seemingly cobbled together in 5 minutes, the rest of the song is equally awful, but please buy it anyway as it is all in a good cause after all, and we are hoping that we'll be able to get an Ipod for the office with the interest on your donations. Please give generously and thank you for your time.

To order your copy of 'Miquita' and receive more information on how with your help we can bring about a brighter future for other young people in need, write to Miquita Oliver Scantily-clad Calendar Appeal, Swipe Towers, Rothergavenny, Llan Ambwlans, Welsh Wales, or give us your credit card details and pin number and we will have "Miquita" call you back and thank you personally in her own inimitable way.


Love on y'all,




Bob

Chaz Jankel Foiled in Solo Channel-Crossing Attempt!

Woaaaah Swipesters,

Sad news reaches us here today of the failure of jazz guitarist and former Ian Dury sidekick Chaz Jankel in his bid to become the first British musician to fly solo across the channel in a self-designed craft. The talented writer and musician had been planning to attempt the crossing in a self-designed micro-light similar to that featured in the 1960s James Bond films, but fell foul of British Airports Authorities regulations. The chassis of the ingenious flying machine weighs a staggering 3 ounces and is powered by a rotary engine designed by Jankel himself.


Jankel: "Chaz coming out of his ears. The jazz guitarist gets in the flying mood with his customary Biggles jacket and a little substance abuse"

Under the current UK guidelines, micro-gliders can only be allowed to take to the air by jazz-funk musicians/songwriters under the strict supervision of female 60s spy characters and, due to visa problems, Jankel's designated supervisor, The Girl From U.N.C.L.E. was unable to make the designated take off at Dover.


Powers: "to all our friends"

Despite a late attempt to draft in Barbara Bain as a replacement onlooker, the Jankel team lost their coveted early morning runway slot that would have allowed them to take maximum opportunity of the glorious duty-free shopping facilities on offer on the French side of ‘La Manche’.


Bain: "of my life"

But rigorously applied airport bureaucracy has led the flight to be rescheduled, allowing Jankel’s rivals, saxophonist Davey Payne and keyboardist Mickey Gallagher, a chance to make up valuable time in the race to become the first Blockhead to fly solo from Dover to Calais.


Watt-Roy: "no Norman?"

The failure of Jankel’s cross-channel flight follows hot on the heels of the abandonment of his fellow Blockhead Norman Watt-Roy’s projected moon landing. The boosters on The Rocket, especially designed by Watt-Roy himself and adapted by engineer George Stevenson for the flight, spectacularly failed to thrust the bassist’s craft upwards and away from its launch pad at Cape Canaveral, although it did set a new land speed record for the journey between Stockton and Darlington.


Wilco: "Roger and Out"

In an unrelated development, former Byrds guitarist Roger McGuinn has launched a joint action with Jankel’s replacement as Blockheads’ guitarist, Wilco Johnson, against the British Airports Authority. The unlikely pair are suing for lost earnings caused by the repeated use of the pilots’ code words Roger and Wilco, still used on some flights to represent the phrase, “Yes, I’ve got you and I will certainly be complying with your request”. “It’s a right royal pain in the bumhole”, said Johnson whilst removing shards of human skull from the body of his Fender Telecaster caused by an unfortunate altercation with an over-enthusiastic fan’s cranium. “Just when you’re about to scowl at someone in the audience in a demonic fashion or pretend to machine gun the audience down with your guitar, you pick up the blighters’ radio signals and all I can hear is bladdy Wilco that and bladdy Roger that. It’s like bally well being possessed and I’m sure it’s no picnic for Roger either.”

Roger that, Wilco!


Love on y’all,



Bob

The Robert Swipe Show Fan Club - Malaysian branch!!

Yep Swipesters!

It's all there in black and white! And you were starting to wonder how I'd got so big in the Far East from just one comment left on The Lovely Madame Mahima's site..... Just a shame they can't give us a more prominent billing so those poor nanny porn seeking Malays don't have to wade through the first 13 spurious search results!!


Come on George, Tony, Sir Bob, Saint Bono!! Never mind global poverty - let's make bad porn search hits history, huh??



Love on ya,



Bob

Revealed: "Twice Nightly" Whiteley in Double Tryst with "Twice Whiteley" Knightley. "Quite Rightly" says Donovan.

Hi Swipesters,

Housewives favourite, the late Richard Whiteley, dated Hollywood star Keira Knightley twice according to documents and photographs released today. The cuddly Countdown host met the gorgeous English star in January of last year at an exclusive Knightsbridge restaurant where the couple enjoyed an intimate candlelit meal before disappearing together in a taxi. The unlikely pair were spotted at the same table a week later but sources claim that their third meeting the following week ended in acrimony with the stunning young actress depositing the contents of her champagne glass all over the amiable TV presenter before storming off alone into the night.


Whiteley in humdrum ba-rump-pa-bum-bum conundrum at last year's Countdown Christmas karaoke.

Whiteley's estate was remaining tight-lipped, but 60s Scottish folk star Donovan was supportive of the short-lived couple. "It's the pressure of fame, isn't it?" said the reclusive singer-songwriter. "I think it's really sad that they couldn't have made more of a go of it. OK, there may have been a bit of an age difference and no one in their right mind would ever have expected a young lassie like Keira to be able to put up with Richard's abysmal taste in ties and his inane snd irksome wordplay bantering for ever, but I think it's quite sad that they only got to do it twice, personally."


Flighty Knightley looks sprightly leaving Blighty in her Nightie - exclusive...

The Knightley camp was also playing a straight bat on the subject as the actress, currently on holiday in the Bahamas, prepares for her next film role as an eighteenth century matchmaker with remarkable ability to worry defences at set-pieces in Bend it like Emma. "This is just the sort of "Twice nightly" Whiteley in double tryst with "Twice Whiteley" Knightley style headline that the tabloid editors have been dreaming about for years. I won't even give them the satisfaction of a response", responded Keira's agent from his nearby yacht.


Donovan in unrhymable name conundrum....




Bend it like Emma begins shooting in February.


Love on ya,



Bob

Film 2006 Exclusive!!"

Woah Swipesters!!


Coming soon to a cinema near you....





........from the makers of The Passion and that one about Penguins that was seen as a deeply rewarding allegory of family values to the Fundamentalist Christian right....








Dreamworks....














......In association with the estate of beloved children's author C.S. Lewis....
















and the John Lewis Partnership.....













.......presents a film by Multi-Academy Award winner......











.........Peter Jackson...






...Starring .....







......A. Penguin as







Aslef, the Lion....







Kate O'Mara as....












The Witch.....










and Kate Winslett as









The Wardrobe......












in....






THE CHRONICLES OF NER-NER-NI-NER-NER......



Love on y'all,



Bob