Tag Archives: skunk anansie

When the world is full of guff

I had the exquisite pleasure just the other day to read about the Aston Martin DB11.  It was a joyous moment as I opened an article on the wonderous BBC website that promised photos and blurb of what I was expecting to be a very sexy beast indeed.  The pride of Britain as it used to be and the latest in the David Brown line as it were.  then this twat appeared………

By Matthew Phenix
23 September 2016
I generally despise first-person car reviews. Particularly when the vehicle in question is expensive, or fast, or both, these stories can quickly devolve into oily billets-doux of the writer’s preternatural giftedness behind the wheel. Or, worse, they become obnoxiously self-deprecating confessionals of their doubtful worthiness in the face of such blinding automotive majesty. So it is with no small amount of consternation that, after stewing over the Aston Martin DB11 for weeks after driving the car, I have decided to approach my take on it from the shameless first-person perspective.


Well Matthew Phenix – seems to me that you are something of a cock, bordering on complete fucktard.  This was the first paragraph of your Aston review and quite frankly – it was so shite that I never even made it to the first picture.  That’s the modern day equivalent of buying a copy of Readers Wives and only looking at the ads in the back for blow up dolls !!!  Younger readers will not understand what Readers Wives is all about – god bless the world before internet porn !!!

I was left scratching my head and not only thinking ‘WTF have I just read’? but also ‘WTF did it mean’?

Now it’s not enough that these weedy little tossers get to fool around in such nice cars while the rest of us have to suffer  (or enjoy in my case) £300 Volvos but they also have to spout a complete load of bollocks in order to try to make themselves appear more educated than the likes of you and me.

I blame Top Gear, and even Jeremy Clarkson.  See, these wanky little farts would just love to be a top line car journalist.  They have watched the likes of Hammond, May and Clarkson having bucket loads of fun over the years and making a mint whilst doing it.  Then all of a sudden, the top slots are free and available.  Every wanna be journo is creeping out of the woodwork with big fancy words and foolish comparisons.

To really keep them on edge, the initial replacement presenters (or two of them at least) were shit and most likely need replacing again !

Now you see, I much prefered 5th Gear and the ever so saucy minx Vicky Butler-Henderson.  I had the pleasure once of meeting said VBH at Le Mans maybe 15 years ago – she was ever so much the minx in real life as she was on the TV.

Drifting gently out of my dream sequence with VBH, back at my laptop..


So Journos – stop with the shit and speak English.  It’s the same in the damn iTunes store when you are looking at the review of an album.  I once read a review of a new Skunk Anansie album a few years back.  They had just reformed and were sounding sublime as ever but some fool had to write this crap



I think I better go and listen to some Birdy and calm down



See back in the day, I can remember if you drove through Newport Pagnell at the right time, you would see the men at Aston Martin pushing a body shell from the body shop on one side of the road, across through the traffic and into the engine shop on the other side.

Body panels hand rolled and each engine bearing a little plate with the name of the guy that built it from scratch.  Now that would be more satisfying than a years subscription to Readers Wives.


Ahhh – Back in the day !

Mokele Mbembe

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday dear November Archives, Happy Birthday to me

Whoop whoop whoop, yahoo, yay yay yay – whatever  (as I am currently in the states, all the whoops, yays and yahoos are mandatory), fist bump, high 5 – fuck yeah!!!  Goddamn .

It’s official – on May 8th (say that out-loud in your best Geordie accent!) The November Archives turned 9 years old and is now officially in its tenth year of publication, something of a milestone I think.  Put that into a different perspective, my little blog has been around longer than the iPhone and will no doubt still be going strong when the iPhone has gone the same way as that old dinosaur The blackberry.  If you need help in perfecting the ‘May the 8th’ in Geordie, may I offer three little words as practise – if you can master these three words, it is fair to say you are fluent in geordie – repeat out loud, or better still, to someone else in your house or work place, or just stand out on the street and bellow them at passers by




You are now fluent my friend – go forth and converse but be careful not to get ‘yer teeth kicked in man!’


Lots has changed since I first sat in the Bubble Lounge down in Sagres and penned my first blog entry.  The bubble lounge is no more, replaced suitably by Warung.  The iPhone was born and has also suffered 6 reincarnations since its birth.  The whole world has become a place where people right now and for generations to come, are developing spinal damage as they constantly stare at their smart phone screens.  People no longer go to concerts and watch the gig for themselves but seem to prefer to concentrate on holding the smart phone above their heads recording the whole thing, for what I can only assume is bragging rights – the right to say that you were there and prove it.  This alone makes me gasp in disbelief.  There was a saying I heard years ago about ‘Woodstock’ that went something like this ‘ If you can remember being there – then you weren’t really there!’  Whats more, can you imagine the pain of watching a music concert in its entirety on a phone ?  These observations were made only recently in my life as I watched many of the iTunes music festivals that are broadcast live on the WWW. A sea of fans illuminated by their screens.  Of course, there are concerts where hanging onto your phone would have been impossible too – The Offspring and Skunk Anansie are two that I remember partially.

Sound Garden, The Pixies, Katy Perry, Jessie J, Coldplay, NOCEREMONY/// have all been on iTunes for free.  Of course, I wanted to be there for myself but never won the tickets – Yes, I did apply for free tickets for a Katy Perry concert, but equally too, I tried for the Pixies.

Most recently of course, I finally decided to spend a chunk of money on a quality car rather than the 300 quid junkers that I normally favour. This has caused some concerns when choosing a suitable parking place as I try my best to keep the body panels straight and dent free.  I like the comfort but the worry keeps me awake at night.

Bringing you swiftly up to date, I am currently in Florida and next weekend will be setting sail for Rio de Janeiro in Brazil – a good two weeks of hard sailing lay ahead but man am I glad to be back on a sailing boat with their coffin sized beds and work spaces made for midgets – a great new adventure lays ahead and lets not forget, this will be my first time sailing across the equator.  Once I have crossed it, I will be able to watch the water go down the plug hole anti clockwise instead of clockwise.

I just bumped into a guy today that reminded me of Alex Faggotpants down in Kernow.  Some of you will remember Alex as my lodger from Benn Street but for those of you that don’t, look for an old programme on the tv called ‘The Brittas Empire’ and there, disguised as Chris Barry you will see Alex Faggotpants.  Faggot as he is more affectionately known by his closest Rugby chums, was a spitter for Gordon Brittas in looks and mannerisms so imagine my surprise today when I found another doppelgänger here in Fort Lauderdale.

At this point, some words of encouragement please – the missus is running a 20k next weekend, a quick hurrah for her, my sister is also clocking up the miles and Steve Brown has agreed to come and run the next Park Run (www.parkrun.com) so it will be a real gang bang for the next time I am in blighty, there will be me, Steve, Rue, Claire, Sis (still working on that one) and maybe even the missus if she doesn’t quit running the second she crosses the finish line.

For the more loyal readers amongst you, you may remember some years ago I ran a competition for the 20,000th reader to win a new 3 series BMW.  You may also remember an old flame of mine winning the competition but then being disqualified for making me change her name on the blog.  Well, Gary Lineke as I called her post op, won’t be running in this competition and I promise no more name changes ever but in an effort to break the 40,000 hits barrier before my 10th anniversary next year, I am offering 10 absolutely free T-shirts for the first 10 SUBSCRIBED users to leave a comment on THIS post suggesting why they deserve a T-shirt.  There is no catch other than you can only win 1 shirt per subscribed user – I say this because I fully expect Connor to leave 10 comments before anyone else even reads this, you can’t beg one for your significant other, they should subscribe too,  and yes, I fully expect Connor to get a shirt and the other 9 to remain in my wardrobe for the next 10 years.  They will be sent P&P free so even if you are all the way down there in S.A. over in Oz, NZ or the Nordics – you will get one.


All up to you – usual rules apply – I make them up as I go along.  Winners are required to send a selfie for posting on The November Archives of them wearing their shirts.






A crazy little daisy, too vile to breathe

Most urgent news – the car fits in the garage after all, couple of inches spare all around – let the rejoicing begin!

Last night at our ‘make your own’ pizza party, I actually met a real life dude called Zoltan!

Now, let me be serious for a while.  Having spent a little time in England for the last two weeks, I couldn’t help but watch some of the quality day time TV.  Dog the Bounty Hunter for instance.  First class american tv, with the blonde flowing locks of a steroid dependent loud mouth with his entourage of hard men heroes running around in combat gear brandishing their paint guns, not to mention his cannon ball of a wife running around shouting louder than everyone else – it is pure shit – what can I say?

Then of course, the Jeremy Kyle Show.  I am always amazed that this show can continually find the dumbest people in the country and get them on the show.  I was curious though, the audience looked considerably more intelligent than the guests and I started wondering about a couple of things.

1. When your other half tells you that you are going out for the day to the Jeremy Kyle show, how do you know if you will be in the audience or a guest

2. What morals do these guests have to have done some of these things and actually believe it ok to behave like that

So the first question is easy.  Your other half tells you they have tickets for the show, are you a guest or audience?  Count your teeth.  I have never seen a guest on JK’s show with more than half of their teeth so have a quick look in the mirror – missing a few and you could go either way, missing a lot, and you are undoubtedly a guest rather than one of the more beautiful and IQ rich audience participants

Question 2 bothers me because these chavs really see no problem with what they do. It bothers me because they form part of our democratic society and can have their say in the way the country is run – that is scary.

I also often wonder if JK himself is pleased with his work, his contribution to society.  I can imagine being a TV presenter as being something to be hugely proud of, like Sir David Attenborough scouring the world to bring highly entertaining and educational programmes to the world, or the news reader Trevor MacDonald impartially reporting on the workings of a mad world each day, but Kyle, does he actually sleep at night.  Does he look in the mirror at the end of the day and congratulate himself for a good day at the office ? I hope not.

I would like to see Dog the Bounty Hunter chasing down Grant Mitchell for a full on bit of London Gangster banter.  I would of course also like to see Jeremy Kyle stuck in the village stocks for a long weekend so that the decent public of the UK can cover him in rotten fruit and veg at their own leisure.

Enough of that – I would like to say that on my first road trip in the Rangie – it performed faultlessly and proved to be a very comfortable ride for the 6 hours between Rugby and Brussels.  Next month it will take on another epic trip between Brussels and Palma de Mallorca.  I was hugely happy that it did indeed fit in the garage today.  Beers are on me

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