AND NOW I'M JADED, YOU'RE OUT OF LUCK.

I Chose This Song As My First Download Because It's Sort Of Quite A Lot Like Me In The Way It's Constructed.
What Do I Mean By That Exactly I Wonder...
A Bit French On The Outside But Full Of Dirty Words?
Very Repetitive And A Bit Shy In A Foul Mouthed Way?
Too Vague To Fuck?

Nouvelle Vague - Too Drunk To Fuck


Download It And See For Yourself (Click The Link And Follow The Instructions, It's A Zshare Link.)

Yesterday And Today Have Been Completely Fucked Up.
Yesterday I Did Nothing Until The Evening.
Please Somebody Volunteer To Look After Me In The Daytime, You Can Come Round If You Like.
We Can Have Soda And Cake And Pie...

I DIGRESS.

Anyway, Last Night Me, Jonny, NJ And Dylan Went Out Driving.
It Has Been A Dream Of Mine For Many Years To Go To Compton - I Always See The Sign On The Way To/From Guildford On The Hog's Back And Think 'Shit, That'd Be Such A Funny Place To Visit.'
So We Went There With The Intention Of Going To A Pub In Compton.
One Of The Roads In Compton Was LITERALLY Called 'The Street', And Another 'The Avenue' - Like That Roll Deep Song?
I Know My Obscure Top 40 Hitz...

We Came Across A Pub, Not Far Into The VIllage.
It Was Called, Rather Ominously, 'THE HARROW.'
I Was Really Afraid Of Going In - There Was Nobody In There, And We Walked In To Phil Collins.
Anywhere That Plays Phil Collins I Feel Has An Heir Of Doom About It - It Is By Definition Music To Conduct Surgery To.

So We Walked In And The Barman/Owner Started Talking To Us.
'What Can I Get You? You Guys A Band? Let Me Show You Where I Want You To Play, Would You Play Here In The Summer?'
I Was Very Much Freaked Out.
We Just Wanted A Quiet Drink In Compton, We Didn't Want No Trouble In Compton.
The City Of Compton.
He Started Asking Us What We Sounded Like.
He Was Into 'The Hot Chip.'
We Said We Sounded Like That.
Dylan Added 'Yeah That And The Horrors.'
Which Is Probably More Accurate, But Less Mainstream.

Speaking Of Mainstream, He Said My Hair Was Very Mainstream.
He Then Said I Looked Like A Gay Punk.
Which Is ACTUALLY The Look I Have Forever Aimed For.
He Then Asked His Wife If I Looked Gay.
She Hesitated Then Agreed With Him.
Deep Down She Definitely Wants To Bed Me.

Anyway, The Night Progressed And He Was Giving Us Free Drinks And Free Snacks.
He Was Probably A Really Nice Guy.
He Told Us Of Morocco (Where He Was From) And Late Nights With David Bowie's Manager And Ashlee Simpson.
I Asserted My Masculinity By Saying She Was Hot.
He Didn't Believe I Meant It, It Was Clear From His Non-Committal 'Yeah Man...'

After A Few More Drinks And Stories, He Got All These Instruments Out.
He Bullied Dylan And Jonny Into Playing Them.
He Then Wanted Me To Sing.
He Kept Singing About My White Shoes And Mainstream Hair Do.
That's A Good Rhyme, But He Made Sure It Didn't FLow So Elegantly.
He Was Singing For Ten Minutes To A Blues Backing About HP Sauce, Just Staring At Me And Nodding.
It Was Too Comical For Me, And I Had To Use The Bathroom.
He Probably Thought I Was Masturbating Over Him - I WAS Gay And All...

When I Came Out He Was Still Pestering Me To Sing.
He Was All 'Come On Man, You Can Sing About Anything!'
He Continued To Sing About Beer Glasses And Women Leaving Him And Not Getting Laid And Stuff, It Was Really Odd.
NJ Just Sat There Staring At His Beer As If To Say 'We Don't Deserve This.'
He Then Asked Why I Refused To Sing, To Which I Had The Ultimate Comebackkkkkk.

'WELL, ALL MY MUSICAL HEROES ARE PEOPLE WHO SPEND DAYS OR WEEKS ON THEIR LYRICS, LIKE MORRISSEY OR DAVID BOWIE, AND I THINK IT'S KIND OF IMPORTANT THAT LYRICS MEAN SOMETHING TO A PERSON.'

No Reply.
I Owned Him.

By This Point, Him, Drunk Dylan And A Very Afraid Jonny Had Been Jamming For Probably Half An Hour.
It Conjured Images Of The 'Where's Your Head At?' Video - Dissatisfied Monkeys Being Forced To Play Instruments Against Their Own Will.
I Wondered If It Was Really A Good Idea To Come To Compton, And If We Were Ever Going To Leave.
I Kept Thinking Of Alan Partridge Moments That Were Synonymous With MOMENTS I WAS HAVING TO LIVE THROUGH, And He Kept Pestering Me To Sing Until Eventually I Stared At My Watch Just Enough For It To Move To A Reasonably Late Hour.

Upon Our Departure Me And Jonny Instinctually Quoted The Alan Partridge Episode In Which Alan Has A Stalker Who Chases Him.
Jonny Said, To The Guy's 'See You Next Sunday!' 'YOU'LL BE BLOODY LUCKY!'
When We Got In The Car I Shouted 'BLOODY....MENTALIST!'
It Was Classic.
Then We Drove Home And A Drunk Dylan Pondered Over Returning There.
I'm Very Much Against It, I'm Not A Gay Punk Performing Monkey...

Today Was A Very Different State Of Affairs.
I Had To Wake Up At 6am For My Bournemouth University Activity Day.
The Drive Up Was Killah, XFM Died Around Fleet So We Had Radio 1.
They Played 'Please Don't Stop The Music' By Rihanna, And All I Could Think Was 'Ben, I Know You're Tired, But DO NOT Let Your Dad Know You're In Love With Rihanna's Album.'
I Was Tapping Away Like Deuce Bigalow To That Hit...

I Got There A Bit Early.
It Would Appear That I Didn't Get The Memo That Said All Applicants Must Refuse To Brush Their Teeth/Eat A Mint/Obtain Friendly Breath - Literally All The Other Applicants I Spoke To Had Disgusting Breath.
After A Two Hour Car Ride That's Hardly What I Needed - A Reason To Vomit, That Is.

I Had To Write An Essay On A Journalist I Find Very Inspirational.
I Wrote About Jon Savage, Although Technically I Could've Written About John Peel, Who Is Probably The Single Most Influential Man In Music Of The Last 30 Years Who Wasn't A Musician Besides Perhaps Tony Wilson.
FUCK THEY'RE BOTH JOURNALISTS AREN'T THEY?
I Well Should've Written About Tony Wilson...

The Lady Came Round And Asked Me A Bunch Of Questions.
The First Thing I Said To Her Was 'OH NO, There Goes My Individual Status...' In Response To Her Comment That They Already Had A Student There With My Hairstyle.
She Laughed.
She Then Commented That Not Many People My Age Know Who Jon Savage Is, And Very Few Actually Want To Be Music Journalists Any More.
I Said That Was Surprising As I Could Think Of Very Little Else I'd Do Instead.
She Asked If I Had Any Work Experience - She Seemed Proper Up For Making Excuses For Me, I Said I Had None Because However Great The Farnborough College Might Supposedly Be, The Area Is Not.
She Liked That And Said She'd Tick The Box Anyway.
It Felt A Bit Like Falling In Love.
She Then Asked If I Had A Part Time Job.
'Right,' I Thought, 'Here Is Where I Milk The Single-Parentdom That Is My Life. It Finally Comes In Handy After Being An Excuse Only For Delinquency And Low Attendance Rates.'
'I Don't Really Get The Time To Have A Part Time Job, I Go To Live With My Dad At Weekends Up In London.'
'Oh, Sorry, That's Fair Enough.'
YES.
'Do You Go To Gigs With Your Dad? For Some Reason I Have That Feeling.'
'That Is An Odd Instinct, But Yeah I Do A Lot, We Went To See Interpol A Few Months Ago, It Was Amazing.'
'Excellent! Okay And You Write A Blog?'
'Yeah, I'm Just Moving It From MySpace To Blogspot Actually. It's An Awkward Transition.'
'Brilliant. Okay That's Great Ben, Really Great, See You Later.'

THEN RADIO WAS A BIT DULL, I PUT SOME INTERESTING EMPHASES ON WORDS LIKE 'OLYMPIAKOS' AND 'BENITEZ.'

TV Was My Domain.
I Had To Interview A Gurl And Then She Had To Interview Me.
I Asked These Questions:
'What's Your Name Then? Where Are You From? And What Do You Write About In Buckinghamshire? What Other Than The University Do You Like About Bournemouth? And What Do You See Yourself Doing In Twenty Years Time? So, Working At The Mirror, What Would Your Policy On Disgusting Amy Winehouse Pictures?'

Then I Came Back.
Had A Band Practice Which Felt Like It Was Going To Be The End Of Me, We Recorded A New Song HERE
Of Varied Quality.
Had A Quorn Chicken Sandwich And A Coke And Am Now Sat Here, Rather Disgusted By A Guy Who Full On Has My Hair And Cardigan.
I Am Going To Find Myself A Picture Of A Hair Cut And Do It Myself, Probably Tomorrow.
I'm Bored Of Trying To Look Good For Other People, Nobody Really Cares What Anyone Else Looks Like, Let's All Wear Yellow Macs And High Heels.

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