Nice knowing you...

Grab a shovel, Boris: Whose going to dig Dave out of that?

Friday August 31st: It was always going to happen. All the parties involved knew that it was inevitable. They were just waiting for it to be said out loud....Opinion polls released today have confirmed what this blog has been stating for the best part of a month. That an autumn election would end in a landslide Labour victory. Diet Blair came back quite hard this week, by actually saying something, but it was too little too late. He's ($5000 love seat) outta here....

Just call me the Black David Frost.

Now, everybody - do the Brown Bounce...

Gordon celebrated by getting extra busy and collaborating on an article with Nicolas Sarkozy for The Times on their efforts to bring broker a ceasefire in Darfur. After some of the madness which has occured in the Middle East since 20th March 2003, the final paragraph offers what seems like a very level-headed mission statement:

"It is a combination of a ceasefire, a peacekeeping force, economic reconstruction and the threat of sanctions that can bring a political solution to the region and we will spare no efforts in making this happen."

which basically means:

"George isn't involved, so we stand less chance of fucking it up."

Also today is the 10th anniversary of Princess Diana's death. Now, I've badmouthed quite a few people on here for the sake of cheap laugh. I have no jokes to crack about Di. I was given the morning off my job at the time (Sainsbury's in Woking town centre) to watch her funeral, which was nice, because otherwise I would have had to go in for 7AM as usual, and work on the wide till - the only one in the building begin enough to accomodate the prams, normally laden with screaming babies. Whilst recovering from a night on the sauce and little to no sleep, that shit was most definitely not fun. And after the televised procession, the nation was so drained after the communal catharsis that they were too tired to shop. Best work day ever.

In Prince-related news today, last week's support act, Common, has announced that he is teaming up with Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest to form a group called The Standard. I, for one, am school-girl-excited about it...

Show (Unlucky for some) 13 tonight...

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

Steak and chips, por favor...

Thursday August 30th: Diet Blair looks to be well and truly back in action. Well, he's talking now. And that's got to be a good thing. Doesn't it? The Guardian says that he's making a stand on immigration. No sir, he doesn't like it and there has been all together too much of it since Labour came to power a decade ago.

Where to begin....

As a child of immigrants, I definitely feel a way about this. I'm not going to get into it, because I could literally be here all night. The monetary debt Africa owes to Western governments will only take a couple of hundred generations to pay off and believe it or not, a thousand concerts like Live 8 featuring the likes of Pete Doherty, completely off his face on whatever he's taking this week, do nothing for them (Snoop smacked it though - I take my hat off to anyone who uses the word 'Motherfucker' on the BBC at tea-time on a Saturday. Legend.)

I will, however, say that - if you drop a bomb on someone's house in order to "save" them, I wouldn't be too surprised when they turn up on your doorstep looking for a place to kip.

Should Spain close it's doors to the ex-pats who emigrate to the Costa del Sol? There would be more sun loungers for everyone else by the pool and fewer sunburnt skinheads, refusing to eat the native cuisine and demanding 'Dos beee-eeeers, mate'. All while calling the male locals 'Pedro'...

Dave is finding his stride. He believes in himself again (maybe he has a 'lifestyle guru' of his own?). When asked about the negative vibes that the Old Boys Club have been firing in his general direction all he said was "I am a Conservative." We would never have guessed, DB. We would never have guessed.

Also in the news is yesterday's 12 hour prison strike, over pay. It started at 7 in the morning and lasted until just after 7pm. I also read that The News Of The World's favourite paedo/murderer, Ian Huntley had to be personally guarded by the governor of his prison, so that none of his fellow prisoners might get the idea of increasing the iron in his diet, by way of a shank in the stomach. For some reason the whole thing reminds me of the closing scenes of Natural Born Killers, with Jack Straw in Tommy Lee Jones' role...

Comic relief in what was a exceptionally serious affair, came from inmates in a Cardiff prison who chanted "You're breaking the law" at union members.

Mr. Nelson is back at work tomorrow. Chaka Khan's scheduled support slot is less than a week away now. I can't wait. Watch out for me busting Turbo from Breakdance's move with the broom during Ain't Nobody. Consider yourselves....WARNED.

The Long Walk To Freedom

Follow The Leader: Nelson = G.O.A.T President? Gordon thinks so.

Wednesday 29th August: Gordon is still reeling from his various setbgacks today as newspapers from Texas to Taipei are declaring that the honeymoon may be over. He is in London at the moment for the unveiling of Nelson Mandela's statue in Parliament Square. According to The Guardian, he called Mandela "the greatest and most courageous leader of our generation". No complaints here.

Diet Blair is desperately trying to remain relevant, with yet more "anarchy in the UK" rhetoric.

For some reason he chose the murder of Rhys Jones as the "line in the sand" to indicate to Gordon that society is on the slide. This after the murder of nearly 30 teenagers in violent crime since January 1st....

He also wants to give the police on the beat more power to stop and search. All well and good until a Community Support Officer gets a rush of blood to the head and ends up clapped for their troubles. Logic dictates that if you want to get rid of gun crime, than surely you should go after the people that supply the firearms. But that might lead to a few uncomfortable questions being asked, eh?

Peter Riddell's analysis in The Times offers Dave a light at the end of the tunnel. After a disastrous summer, he suggests that things had got as bad as they were probably going to get, so the only way the Tories can go from here is up.

Prince has been out and about in London again. While general consensus is that the length of the shows has dropped to the 90 minute mark, he's still wowing them night after night.

He's been a busy man, this week. According to The Sun, he popped up at backstage at Movida in London to offer advice to unsigned musicians after his show on Saturday. He's the superstar who just keeps on giving.

A diminished NPG line-up took to the stage at Indigo2 after last night's show, but once again made sure the job was done right.

Going back in time - it appears that Kate Moss approached Prince for a duet (The People), insisting that she'd done them before and that her presence "would only add to the show." Someone get Pete on the phone and tell him to come and get his girl because she's making a fool of herself...

I also came across a piece on www.idolator.com , which made the point that Sign O' The Times is a better album than Purple Rain. Fair enough. What I was intrigued with was the quote from The Rolling Stone's review of Dirty Mind, which suggested - and I quote - "Mick Jagger should fold up his penis and go home". Now, I've written reviews in the past. Some of them albums I liked, some I hated, but I never thought it my responsibility to use them as a platform to tell people what they should do with their genitalia....Well, I've told artists to forcibly insert their albums into their fundamental orifice, but everyone must have their limits. That, my friends is mine.

It must be nice to be chased by supermodels and showered with adulation everyday, but 3121.com reports that he won't be too poular with the residents of one London street after posting up in an alley in the early hours of this morning for a photoshoot, while bumping a CD of the aftershow party. Loud. The neighbours "screamed obscenities", at Mr. Nelson and he alledgedly fell out laughing. The photos are for a scrapbook planned for the tour's end.

Prince and The Rolling Stones, are also credited by The Evening Standard with making the O2 "London's most exciting new venue". If only they'd seen the state of it a few years ago...

Resistance Is Futile.

Whose World is this? The World is Gord's: Insubordination will not be tolerated...

Tuesday August 28th: The honeymoon is over. Gordon may, politically speaking, be sleeping on the sofa after his first fall-out with his back benchers. The tiff is over a motion on council housing, which The Independent believes could be "controversial". It is being said that Gordon is trying to marginalise any issues which might otherwise disrupt the dream Party Conference that he's had in his head all these years. Takes the stage to a standing ovation that lasts 10 minutes. Brian May guitar solo. Pyrotechinc display. Big screen shows his highlight reel. Female party members throw their underwear at him. Old skool beat drops. Teaches everyone how to do The Brown Bounce.

Perhaps it could end up like Tony Blair's speech to the W.I. - the fixed grin did little to convince the world that he wasn't utterly terrified of the blue-rinsed legions in front of him. Weakness. George Bush would have had the lot of them rounded up and shipped to Camp X-Ray, quick time. They would have been making jam in Guantanamo Bay before the day's end.

"I think they willl have to pull back," said John McDonnell - chairman of the Socialist Campaign Group of MP's, "this is the last vestige of democracy in the party." And therein lies the problem. The Prime Minister may have misjudged the mood, what with all the approval ratings and opinion polls. Just because the press writes nice things about you, doesn't mean you're well liked. It just means they haven't found anything bad out. Yet. I'm sure he thought his first party conference as leader would be a game of 'Gordon Says', but he may find himself disappointed. Only one way to get around this Gordon. Dictatorship. You know you've daydreamed about it. Sitting in your office with a cup of coffee and looking out on the Thames. I know you imagined branding your stamp of authority on the country while using Blair as a footrest. You've seen the Queen's House, right? I know you thought about how big it is and how small Number 10 is by comparison. It would be a quick coup. If you started by mid-morning, you would be done by 7ish. It could even be bloodless if they were smart enough not to struggle and to accept you on bended knee as their lord and master...

Anyway - Gordon has been allegedly been getting leverage on the union bosses, by promising to surpass the proposed 2% pay increase they're expecting next year. Sitting down to talk numbers with Gordon is like sitting down to discuss raw meat with a lion while wearing a pair of haute couture plus fours made out of pork. If you get into that conversation, he'll blind you with science. By the time you come out of that meeting room, he would have convinced you that you have to pay him to go to work. Oh wait, they already did that. They called it tax.

Add to the back bench insubordination, Gordon's unwillingness to draw up a timetable for British forces withdrawal for Iraq and the growing pressure for an EU referendum, it looks like the Gordon's shine might be starting to fade. Damn. It was all good just a week ago...

Prince has been laying low for the past couple of days, save for another celebrity review in The Telegraph of Saturday's show. Hilary Alexander loved it. Gordon's unsettled Bank Holiday weekend may provide Mr. Nelson with the opening he needed to sneak into the lead....

I've started, so I'll finish...

Forget Things Can Only Get Better: There is only one man who can provide The Brown Bounce with a proper soundtrack.

Monday August 27th: Well, my mother always told me there's no point in leaving a job half done, so I was back at Carnival for the Bank Holiday. After leaving my car at the secret Carnival parking spot - I'm not saying where it is, otherwise when I go next year, you would have parked there - I followed the procession round to Wetstbourne Park. Live as ever. I will always appreciate the way people party at Carnival like they don't have to go to work tomorrow. We picked our spot early (Jeneration, once again) and stuck with it. There weren't many incidents today, thankfully - a couple of kids got beside themselves when POW! and Merkle Man were played, but the DJ exercised a little responsibility and handled that (CEASE AND SECKLE!). I saw a couple of vicious girl-fights, though, and they really didn't hold back. Weave and French tips went flying...And yes - I did join in the mass 'Lean With It, Rock With It' during Buy You A Drank. Also - shout out to whoever threw the fake £20 notes in the air during Make It Rain. Classy.

Has The Brown Bounce been deflated? The Brown Bounce. It sounds like the title of a Southern Rap song. See me in the cluuuuuub / It's Gordon Brown. *Does the Young Joc motorcyle dance around the despatch box* The Guardian's poll watchers say that Gordon risks losing his majority if he goes for an October election. They also say that Diet Blair is leading on law and order and health issues - which just goes to prove the old saying - throw enough crap at the wall, and some will stick.

As for Prince - Corinne Bailey Rae's review of Friday's show and after-party was featured in the Daily Telegraph today. If you couldn't guess from the post early on Saturday morning - she loved it. Apparently Prince is a fan of hers as well, so we might yet get to hear them jamming together. It's good that she was able to enjoy the concert as opposed to moaning that she didn't get to hear all her favourite songs *Cough* Sophie Ellis Bextor *Cough*. Allhiphop.com's Rumors blog also shouted out Common, after yours truly hipped them to the fact he was over here doing big things this weekend.

So - we're at the half way mark, now. Ten shows played and the possibility of an October Election. Both of our protagonists are readying themselves for a big September.

Scoobay!

I see you, baby...

Sunday August 27th: That's a relief. I hadn't read over last night's entry until just now. It was written after a trawl around some of All Saints Road's fine public houses. I was sincerely worried that I'd filed a load of maudlin, drunken twaddle, but there seems to be a common thread. Very faint at times but it's there.

So, I spent the afternoon at Notting Hill Carnival, wandering between sound systems. A round of applause, please for the DJ's of the Jeneration Sound who kept Powis Terrace roadblocked all day. It is a relief to finally sit down, as my feet have that dull ache, usually associated with spending the whole day two stepping and signalling the plane. And it was nice to see that Simon Says still drives a crowd of people insane when played at sufficient volume. I also learnt today that you never realise how long it's been since you've heard Oh No by Red Rat until you've been deafened by an air horn as the DJ drops it.

I, for one, will never again fall for the 'Kids Day' tag attached to Sunday at Carnival. The sheer number of grown women in attendance has made sure of that. There didn't seem to be any trouble, apart from one instance I saw of 'handbags at dawn' between two white teenagers. They drew a little crowd as they swung wildly at each other. I think even a couple of police stopped to watch.

I didn't see Dave there, though.

Just as the weather is beginning to clear, it looks like the storm clouds are beginning to brew above Gordon. The Times reports that a donation of £300,000 given to the Government by a group called Muslim Friends Of Labour will come under scrutiny. Strictly speaking, the dates would insinuate that the fault does not lie with the Prime Minister as the money was donated between March and June. He would seem to have inherited that one. Let us not forget that Blair had previous for this kind of thing. He was 'helping police with their enquiries' during the cash for honours scandal. Maybe this is another one of those things he neglected to tell Gordon. He's like a devious landlord who rents a house out to a trusting tennant without first telling them that there are a horde of vampire bats living in the attic. Maybe it slipped his mind....

Prince was at it again yesterday. Show # 11 opened with what 3121.com describes as a "rousing rendition of Planet Earth". It looks like the powers that be over there finally realised that it was impossible to keep images of the show off the internet (The camera ban was most definitely ignored on the first night) and posted official pictures of Friday's show on the frontpage. Marva King delivered her own version of The Rolling Stones Honky Tonk Woman, and once again Prince drew for The Long And Winding Road by The Beatles.

Backing singers Marva and Shelby made the after show jam their own, even finding time to cover Amy Winehouse's Love Is A Losing Game. After letting The Stones hold court in his kingdom this week, it looks like Prince may be about to reach even further into the catalogue of 150 songs he has locked and loaded...

Live from The Carnival...

R.I.P Tim Westwood's Portobello Market Stage: A National Monument.

Saturday August 26th: This comes to you from the heart of West London, in the wee hours before the Notting Hilll Carnival starts. The bottle of Negrita Rum my youngest sister brought me in Spanish duty free (Cheers!) is still covered in freezer frost and pouring all too well. Tomorrow sees the start of the biggest street party in Europe. For two days it doesn't matter whose in the country or whose in charge. Humanity will push it's way around an ever shrinking route, propelled by shuddering bass, under the unblinking gaze of police; on foot, on horseback, in cars, in vans and in helicopters. A celebration of cultural freedom monitored by the Auld Empire's Finest.

Walking through Portobello Market on the way to an off licence, I took a trip down Memory Lane. 1995, slam-dancing to Protect Ya Neck as the aroma of CS gas lingered over the crowd, while Tim Westwood screamed something everyone was too hype to understand into the mic. Good times. Sure there was the innate feeling that something may kick off, but that happens anywhere that there is any sort of drug (alcohol, especially), enclosed space and competition over women. The same thing would happen at a Buckinghamshire garden party if you introduced enough booze and packed all the attendees into what is basically a large marquee. The threat of violence then, would have meant nothing more than a fist fight, or at the very worse a knife wound. Now there's the possibility that someone could leave, having being punctured by a hot piece of metal.

Float trucks navigated down All Saints Road early on Saturday night. Wooden boards were being nailed to store fronts and speaker stacks wired up in preparation, as we urgently devoured barbecue chicken on a street corner. The electronic screech of police sirens echoes down the road, adding to the symphony as cars roll up and down Ladbroke Grove.

The pavements are filled with the young and cool; bar patrons queuing for entry into already bustling nighspots. OFCOM sanctioned radio is not an option. The pirates rule the dial over here, and by 2AM the DJ's have dispensed with the banter and speak only with their hands. The sun has cast a spell on the city, as the country dares to believe that summer has finally arrived. Women from all over the globe test drive Carnival outfits and perfect their strut in the late afternoon heat. When it rains, London can be a cruel, vindictive mistress, breaking the hearts and ridiculing the dreams of all and any who came a-prospecting on the gold paved streets. When the cloud breaks, smiles are shared with complete strangers, in silent mutual recognition that, hey, maybe things aren't all that bad...

The Sun have offered a £100,000 reward for information leading to the capture of Rhys Jones' killers, crossing the barrier between recording the news and being the news. If it helps bring the repsonsible parties to justice than it would be a good thing, right? There is nothing that engages the collective imagination of the populace better than a common cause. An evil, painted large and in primary colours. In a world of few certainties, that is an absolute truth. But that itself raises questions. Is it any less tragic than the untimely deaths visited upon youngsters up and down the country? Are their lives worth any less?

The Guardian's front page poses Gordon questions about two of the most pressing matters he. The shooting of British troops by an American jet in Afghanistan, is the latest in a interminable laundry list of calamaties that have befallen the invading forces. The other story is a study of Liverpool's teenage gangs. Kids need acceptance, regardless how crafty, moody or emo they are. Not everyone gets to find it at home, in a place of worship or at school..

Prince's exposure today is limited to a fan's complaint on The Sun's Bizzare page. The irate punter was furious that Prince had not shown up for the aftershow party at the IndigO2. Despite what you see on stage, Mr Nelson, it appears, is still human. I mean haven't you ever fancied hitting the oxygen bar and having an early night?

In true pirate radio style, the team of card playing drunks I am rolling with for the weekend have requested shout outs. They started with the obvious ones like "all Carnival crew", before a flash of introspection led to Jimmy asking that "The Man Upstairs" also gets his due...

*Westwood explosion*

Once again it's on...

Weapon of Choice

Friday August 24th: The murder of 11 year old Rhys Jones in Croxteth, Liverpool has dominated the news today. Shot while he was playing football in a pub car park, this is the latest in a long line of senseless deaths that have been reported since the beginning of the year. Gordon's got an uphill task facing him, if he's going to make any sort of impact on this issue. Gangs existed way before the media interest in them flared up and they'll be around after the interest fades.

The Evening Standard felt it necessary to name "all of London's 257 gangs" - Forgetting the ever growning contigent from East Europe and Asia that have found a foothold in the capital's criminal underworld. I can't deny, I'm really unsure of the logic behind this story. Is the plan to inform commuters of who could be mugging them? I can already see a balding gentleman in a raincoat, on a desserted Tube platform, tussling with a hooded youth over a Ferragamo attache case...

"STOP! LET GO OF MY BAG! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU'RE ONE OF THE WESTBOURNE PARK MAN DEM!!"

Diet Blair added his tuppence worth blaming "rap music bosses, lad mags, feckless fathers and the video game industry" for the actions of today's youth. All valid points, in some way, but Dave is starting to remind me of a wasp trapped in a bottle. He'll get as angry as hell, but he can't do anyone any harm, and his oxygen will soon run out. Sure enough, when you come down in the morning, he'll be dead - trapped in the syrupy dregs of Coca Cola like a mosquito encsased in amber.

He's also not going to Carnival. Despite the fact he lives in Notting Hill.

Chicken.

On a positive note - I was glad to see Jesse Jackson is over here and speaking some sense. For all the anger that was directed towards the Black community's elder figureheads such as Al Sharpton and Oprah and Mr. Jackson in the States after they criticised the hip-hop community, you've got to realise what they've went through to get to where they are. Jesse Jackson was on the balcony with Martin Luther King Jnr. when he got shot. They were involved in some real 'Ride Or Die' business, back in the day. Don't forget that.

And on with the evening's proceedings...Common's support set, two weeks after he had gone to the top of the charts with Finding Forever in The US was full of energy. He kicked off while people were still filing into the arena and the screams from various sections of the auditorium as he approached the mic stand proved that he was a crowd puller in his own right. The set was mainly based around cuts from his last four albums and the sound was nicely fleshed out by a live band with Philly neo-soul legend James Poyser on the keys. My personal favourite from the album, Black Maybe, swirled around the arena sounding every bit as vibrant as it does on record. Common went on to bring the (melo)drama with his spoken word interlude during Testify and had the crowd singing along to the chorus on The Light before breaking out to enthusiastic applause.

Once again, I was camped out in what one fellow spectator christened "The Media-Whore Box". Everyone was in a good mood ahead of the three day weekend and I got talking to Chuck Gabrielson, a USA Today reporter who had flown into London to see family. He said he's also planning to take in Notting Hill Carnival while he's over here - this weekend should provide him a decent sized photo album of memories. The bottles of Becks kept on coming, and, knowing that I'd left the car at home this evening, I kept on taking them. I had an 'I'm sure I know you' moment, when two girls walked in just as the house lights went down - it took me a minute to realise that it was Corinne Bailey Rae and her sister perched a couple of rows down from me. Despite her own superstar status, she was definitely there as a fan (and journalist), singing along to all the jams while scribbling her own notes throughout the show.

Could I ever get bored of hearing the crowd pop, when the lights go out Prince ascends through the trap door in the middle of the stage? Emphatically, no. I don't think he could either. Tonight, 1999 was first on the set list and it charged out of the gate like a bull on steroids. He's not carrying the indulgent, majestic swagger of the first night anymore - he doesn't need to. Not to say that the flamboyance and showmanship wasn't still there in abundance. Let's just say he was operating at an 8 tonight. He's got his game face on now and he looks like he came out tonight with the express purpose of challenging the late great James Brown for that 'Hardest Working Man in Showbiz' mantle. On top of that he's obviously aware of the fact it's a Bank Holiday weekend because he's really going for it this evening. They can have a lie in Monday morning.

Prince appears to be feeling at home in London right now "The Rolling Stones might have let you do what you want," he crooned during Satisfied. "But there's rules in my house!"

Tonight's highlight came during his solo keyboard set. Little Red Corvette morphed into Raspberry Beret before taking brief detours into Diamonds And Pearls and When Doves Cry before a monster rendition of Pop Life. The biggest response of the evening came when the electro-bump of Sign O' The Times shook the building. Lyrics written about gang violence and hurricanes in 1987 took on a new relevance after this week's events.

Common also returned to freestyle during Play That Funky Music. Was that a reference to Oscar-winning Brit-Flick The Queen, I heard?

Tonight, you don't just have to take my word for it. Ms. Bailey Rae, the floor is yours...

"The gig was amazing. An amzing response to what people want. It was a completely ego-less performance - he just kept on saying 'What do you wanna hear?' and playing riffs from all his songs and whatever gets the biggest roar is the one he does next. It must be amazing to have this canon of popular music to pull from and everyone, even guys in short sleeve shirts with tattoos and skinheads are gonna know all the songs he played in that set."

Corinne doesn't buy the rumour that this will be the last time he plays his most famous hits, though: "I think that...it's probably not the truth. I'm sure we'll hear them again..."

PS

And an impartial audience member told me that Prince own3d the Stones with his performance tonight.

Quotes:

"This is a heinous crime that shocked the whole of the country." -Prime Minister

"Their idea of fun, is being in a gang called The Disciples, high on crack, toting a machine gun" - Prince

...

Arise Dame Lucy of O2....

Thursday 23rd August: All quiet on the Western Front at the moment. Reports that Gordon punched Angela Merkel's bodyguard and invaded the pitch during England's loss (told you) to Germany yesterday, remain unconfirmed.

Thanks once again to the beautiful, talented and courageous Lucy Ellison (Can we get her an MBE or something?), I will be touching down at the O2 tomorrow night. Who knows - The Rolling Stones may be there, as they have been sharing the venue with Prince for the week. Common's warm up set also raises the possibility of an appearance by Kanye West. He's got the number one record in the country right now, and he doesn't seem the type to stay in and watch a DVD while one of his frequent collaborators is performing in front of 20,000 people. We shall see. Whatever happens, I will post a review, most likely while half cut after enduring the slow train back to Woking with the hammered city boys and various other intoxicated ghouls in the wee hours.

Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land...

Robo-Crouch: Check Lampard's face in the background, he got tired of it quickly too...

Wednesday August 22nd: Gordon is getting back to work. First order of business is a meeting with German Chancellor, Angela Merkel (NECKLE!) to talk over a referendum for the EU treaty. The Guardian reports that she will be treated to a night out at Wembley for England’s friendly (if there can be a 'friendly' between these two teams) with Germany. She's definitely better off with Gordon at such an event. I could just imagine Blair taking his shirt off and swinging it above his head while joining a chorus of The Great Escape theme, because it might improve his opinion poll rating.

I, personally have a complex relationship with the English national football team, which I will one day write about at length. I will tell you now the exact day and time the dream died, for me - It was the World Cup quarter final - 2002 - England v Brazil. It was around the time when Ronaldinho spooned a free kick over David Seaman's head and into the bottom left corner of the net. The time was, well, I can't be sure of the exact time, because I, like most other people in the Woking branch of RSVP had decided that it would be a good idea to start drinking at 7.30 AM. To this day, when I talk to England fans about Ronaldinho's goal - they first pretend that they don't know what I'm talking about. Then they say he didn't mean to do it. My reply is - have you watched him play football before? He's The One in his generation. Much like Best, Pele, Maradonna, Ronaldo and Zidane were. The Nike ad footage of him as a kid taking on whole teams and then scoring proves that.

He meant to do it and he made that shit look good.

Anyway. When I walked out of the bar at full-time, I saw grown men, fully attired for work, weeping in the street like they had lost a relative. With that, I turned and walked off home. The office would have had as much atmosphere as an undertaker's workstation and I wanted no part of the misery. And to this day, I find it hard to hear the national anthem sung without picturing the reddening, creased faces of stockbrokers and lawyers, united in their grief after the media hype ended with another disappointing loss. I took the penalty loss in Italia 90 on the chin. The Euro '96 knockout too. World Cup '98, I was still shielding that last ember of hope that an England team might win the World Cup in my lifetime. But the Brazil match was the straw that broke the camel's back. As for last year's World Cup, I sneered my way through England's matches. I was completely numb to the pain of the defeat by Portugal. And I was supporting Ghana.

As I write this the scrore is 2-1 to Germany, after England went ahead nine minutes in.

Hahaha - now Peter Crouch is on.

Gordon appears to have been overly blessed with gifts from political well-wishers since he came into office. According to The Scotsman, in the first three days of Gordon Brown's term £500,000 was donated to The Labour Party. And what did Tony get? Muffin basket.

Diet Blair is really grasping at straws now - at this rate he might actually finish his run before Prince does. His 'anarchy in the UK' rant nicely crowns the week in which he offered the Prime Minister a "bare knuckle fight" over the NHS. The Times contained quite a thoughtful piece by Richard Morrison today, basically saying Dave's statement was the sort of loose talk which starts witch hunts. He went to Nike's Midnight Madness basketball event at Crystal Palace on his Jack Jones, and sat as the only middle-aged White man in a crowd of 5000. We're not that scary, Dave. Come to Carnival this weekend. Eat some Jerk Chicken, drink some Guinness Punch and dance with a female Fed. If Hague could do it - you can....

According to 3121.com, back-up singer Shelby J and Mike Phillips hit a secret gig and jammed with a house band. It looks like she may have been trying out a few new numbers, in preparation for the weekend...

As I mentioned yesterday - Common looks set to support Prince on Friday. Mr Nelson became a fan of the Chi-Town wordsmith after hearing The Light, from his 1999 album Like Water For Chocolate and the pair have performed the song together at least once. Common's freestyling skills should also make the aftershow party an interesting affair. Literally anything could happen

A good clean fight.

Coulda been a contender...: Diet Blair is ready to put them dukes up

Tuesday August 21st: Today's quote comes courtesy of Diet Blair, who wishes to challenge Gordon to a "bare knuckle fight" on matters of NHS policy. The old Etonian fails to realise that this won't be Marquess of Queensbury rules. No handlebar moustaches. No shaking hands at the end. Never challenge a Glaswegian to any kind of fight. At the moment he's like a boxer with spaghetti legs in the sixth round against a much fitter opponent. He's only going to make matters worse by insisting that Everlasts are for girls...Dave should not be surprised if his rival decides to utilise the political version of his hometown's famed 'kiss', and he finds himself rolling around on the floor with his nose pissing blood...

The Scotsman offers a 'What I did over the summer holidays' view of the prime ministerial vacation. He's been to a football match and visited the Edinburgh Festival. He's not sweating anything right now. He's more than likely thinking of coming back off holiday and putting an end to DB's bullshit. Permanently. Cameron is about to get "ethered". Reporter Eddie Barnes met with a Tory shadow minister who had the following quote for him. "If Gordon Brown called an election for this autumn, we're f***ed." So there are politicians left out there who tell the truth, after all....

The Telegraph picked up on the American opinion that British soldiers in Basra are pretty much screwed. After four years of tearing round Iraq like they were about to bring the Empire back, the militias have put the squeeze on them. Probably putting to use all those weapons that The UK and US sold them back in the day. War, it seems, is not without irony. Anyway - Gordon has made it clear that British troops will return home on London's timetable and not Washington's. Withdrawal is scheduled for the end of the year, leaving Uncle Sam as the lone figurehead to fight 'Nam (The '07 remix).

It's show Number 10 for the Minneapolis Kid tonight. He's well and truly in his mode halfway through the tour. There are also tickets being sold for a 'Prince Auction' right now. I have no idea what that will be auctioned. But I'll do my best to find out. Just for you...

Stop Press: I've been told that Common will be supporting on the date this Friday (August 24th). It's gonna be a big 'un.

The distant sound of war drums....

Meeeeenzies, come out and plaaaaayaaaaaay....







Monday August 2oth: Most of today's newspapers have picked up the story of the clandestine plans for an October general election. The Conservatives will find themselves up against it, if the starting pistol is fired. Sure they're making all the relevant statements - we'll fight them on the health service, we'll fight them in the tax office etc. - but would they really be willing to make a go of it with Dave as their leader?

Margaret Thatcher would roll over in her 'Mumm-Ra The Everliving' sarcophogus.

How long then, before Diet Blair is mysteriously called out of the country never to be seen again? Mrs Cameron would shortly thereafter, without explanation, start to take delivery of large packages of 'luncheon meat' bound by what appears to be a selection of Dave's favourite ties...



The Tories have also found a chink in the Gordon's armour, adding reform of the NHS to their election manifesto. I can understand that - medical staff work insane hours and the crazy superbugs that hang around wards mean that you can now go into hospital to get sick. As ways of looking for an opponent's weakness go, that's a pretty slick one.





Trevor Kavanagh of The Sun, is not buying the Commie, 'we're on the crest of the wave' rhetoric that some of the Left Wing papers are spouting right now. No, sir. Because of Gordon, soldiers are being killed in Afghanistan and youths, fuelled by White Lightning, run the streets of our city centres. This country is on a Sat-Nav plotted course straight to Hell in a handbasket and only the sheepishly grinning Diet Blair can save us.

An October general election won't be pretty. On top of all the standard brouhaha that comes with this of a free and democratic society, you can expect a few PR faux-pas - with just over a month until any election, tempers will get frayed and bad (hopefully libellous) things will be said and done. Like the picture of Blair with devil eyes a few years back. Come to think of it - that was surprisingly accurate. This one is going to be dirty. A war that will be waged with no prisoners being taken. I look forward to seeing members of the Liberal Democrats being chased around London like a scene from The Warriors.

At best, it appears that he is waiting. Like Wilbur the Pig in Charlotte's Web, for spring and the farmer's axe. At worst he'll be dragged round to the back of the yard sometime in October, squealing and writhing, to have both barrels emptied right between his eyes. Metaphorically speaking, of course.





Gordon is undoubtedly still in the middle of his honeymoon period. His sensible approach has meant that by and large the public seems to trust him. No flair, no fuss. He is the Vauxhall Vectra of politicians.





Prince keeps up the good work early this week. He is currently at #9 in the UK album chart with the Ultimate compilation. Apparently he had Julia Stiles singing Play That Funky Music at the weekend too. Looks like his trip to the premiere of The Bourne Ultimatum was all about business after all...

Diet Blair's Last Ride?

Could the PPV spectacular known as Votermania, be the end of the road for Dave?

Sunday August 19th: A double dose for you today - I would hate to think that anyone was feeling a) cheated or b) abandoned. Onwards...

It looks like John Redwood, really is dead set on taking on Gordon on the tax issue. He can't say he hasn't been warned. That's like challenging The Undertaker to a steel cage match. There's a slim possibility that you may win but you'll be beaten to a bloody, quivering pulp first.

And, yes - it finally happened. Gordon has placed the Labour Party on stand-by for the possibility of an October election. Diet Blair would be buried alive under the landslide if opinion polls are to be believed. Crushed under a farmhouse with only his Fair Trade trainers showing like some sort of Wicked Witch. The Observer attributes the confidence to "Labour unity, which has not been seen since the early days of Tony Blair."

We've opened the door into a brave new world, it would seem, where everyone knows their place. Children still can't play in the street for fear of being snatched by the monsters who only used to exist in the wardrobe, but have now moved to Portsmouth to be hunted by angry mobs. Soldiers are still dying everyday - blown up on the other side of the world in a town whose name they probably can't pronounce (but not before they have sent a good number of the locals to meet their maker.) There's not a cute puppy for every household, but the way The Daily Mirror have been talking about Gordon's term so far, that day may not be far off. Still, there is a steadfastness about him. He seems less likely to get all gooey-eyed over minor celebrities than other people who have recently worked in his role. There is minimal risk that we, the people, will be sold down the river again, by a Prime Minister who can be fast talked like an ambitious young waitress working in Los Angeles, who has dreams of seeing her name on movie posters, but gets coerced into doing "art" flicks.

The 'Purple Reign' continues uninterrupted this weekend. Mya supported on Friday and Saturday, which must have been like being allowed birthday cake and ice cream in the same bowl. On top of that, there were guitar battles and keyboard solo sets at the aftershow party. As if it wasn't enough that Sign O' The Times, When Doves Cry and 1999 are now fixtures in his setlist, The Times tipped their hat to Prince in their 'People Of The Week' feature. This is because of his outing to the premiere of The Bourne Ultimatum accompanied by the Twinz. "Other pop stars have girlfriends - only Prince has a matching set." Game recognize game.

The Breakfast Of Champions...

Had his Weetabix: Gordon eats three. With a splash of milk. And a teaspoon of sugar. Because he's on his summer holidays.

Friday August 17th - Gordon is 'in the wind' right now. Not a peep has been heard from him since he decamped north of Hadrian's Wall. Perhaps he is preparing a media offensive, the likes of which we have never seen. He will come back of tour and crush Diet Blair with an iron fist and found a dynasty that will reign uninterrupted for several millenia to come. Either that or he's actually sleeping. One article a while ago stated that Gordon was normally awake at 5:30AM, and that when he spoke to his ministers shortly after that he was more often than not working his way through a bowl of cereal. Dedication's what you need. (Roy Castle. Holla!) At any rate he's been through it since he took over from Blair and all the obiah curses his former boss has placed on him have withered in the face of Gordon's relentless determination.

That compulsive shatterer of illusions, The Daily Mail, let the cat out of the bag today. Prince's dancers - the statuesque ladies known as The Twinz, have been named. They are Maya and Nancy McClean from Sydney. The sisters started out as dancers on a Royal Caribbean cruise ship in 2003, before a run on Australian Idol. After that they were in a production of the Lion King. How they went from that to Prince's backing dancers is anyone's guess. Perhaps he pulled the 'alleged' Kate Nash maneouvre and had them 'brought' to him.

And, finally - Glamour model, Jordan was apparently trying to get at Prince this week, because she had a song idea for him. That's what the world is coming to. You and your husband butchered, sorry, bludgeoned the shit out of, the joint from Aladdin and now you're trying to holla at The Kid like it's all love? You're dead wrong for that. Mr Nelson. My solemn and unbiased advice: Run, mate. Run as fast as those pointy little stilleto boots will allow.

Elvis was a hero to most...

Dead. Face it.

Thursday August 16th: Aaaand....I'm right back like I left something, feeling a whole lot better for the sleep.

Gordon has been maintaining a low profile over the last couple of days, what with being holed up in a little cottage with his nearest and dearest. He needs to take a leaf out of Mr Putin's book. His holiday photos have come back from Snappy Snaps and gone straight into as 'respectable' a paper as The Daily Telegraph. Camouflaged down, he looks every bit the loose cannon commando bad guy from an action film. The one who will deviate from the plan. Just for the sake of killing the hero who gave him a scar across his face. All he needs is a photo of him greedily chewing freshly killed caribou with a pack of wolves and even George Bush will have to admit that the boy Vladimir is rugged like Timberland boots...

I suppose August (aka The Silly Season) is a time for journalists to reflect. There have been moments of deep introspection and soul searching since I started writing this blog. In the quieter moments I have asked myself - was Blair really all that bad? He managed to sort out peace in Ireland. Then I think, 'F*ck it!' After all, even a broken clock is right twice a day...

Tuesday night was another spectacular. 1999 was the opener. He was also hurtin 'em with 7 and closed with Nothing Compares 2 U. If the aftershow parties weren't already as much of a draw as the shows themselves, they soon could well be. Beverley Knight joined the band once again for versions of All I Need by Method Man and Mary J. Blige and Ecstasy by Barry White...Prince only got round to playing bass, guitar and keys.

He has been hitting the town as well (painting it purple, if you will). There's only so long black M&M's and an oxygen bar will keep a legend entertained. He's probably whipped all his minders at Bowling and Baseball on the Nintendo Wii, and while twin Beyonce look-alikes would be wicked to have around the house, I bet they take forever in the bathroom. So Mr. Nelson went to the pictures. Sort of. It wasn't exactly The Vue next door to Acton Megabowl. He popped up at the premiere for The Bourne Ultimatum in Leicester Square. According to The Daily Mirror's 3AM Girls, he got roundly booed for not stopping in the rain and to talk to fans who had got soaked while waiting for him. Life is hard.

The Lion sleeps tonight...

Awimbaweh, Awimbaweh, Awimbaweh, Awimbaweh...

Wednesday August 15th: Not much to report today - The 'will he, won't he' saga of the autumn election dominates most of the Brown talk at the moment. Prince had show number 7 tonight - we are a third of the way through the run. A friend went to see him last weekend after I had encouraged her to get tickets. She was worried that being up in the gods she wouldn't get to feel the whole vibe. On Monday I had this message waiting in my inbox -

"Well, I went and it was awesome. Sat right at the bloody back but still good"

Is it possible to tire of being right?

As for me - I slept fitfully last night and dreamt of this blog. Unless I get my seven hours, I'll be no good to anyone. Same Bat-Time, same Bat-Blog, tomorrow y'all...

Prime Minister vs. Prince (Week) 2: Electric Boogaloo

Ozone: Single-handedly bringing back the feather earring.

Tuesday August 14th: Gordon has packed his family off to Scotland and taken a large pile of work with him, The Sun says. He's a maths beast. It just doesn't stop for him. He sees everything in numbers, like the moment of enlightenment Neo has in the first Matrix film. They say his aides have also admitted the possibility of an autumn election, as well. At the moment he's got every reason to go for it. Opinion polls put him streets ahead of Diet Blair and he can take that calculated gamble and go for an extra 3 years. If he was to wait until the term was up, the Tories might have either got DB to sort his act out or found someone who is a little less disliked by voters. Gordon paid his dues. He's in for the long haul. He's not trying to hear "Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns..."

The Prime Minister doesn't get such an easy ride in The Daily Telegraph today - Under the headline "Tories condemn Brown's 'lack of interest'" - The Conservative Party accuses him of not doing enough for troops under fire in Afghanistan. Before he came to office, the war against the Taleban was an abject mess of half truths, white lies and ulterior motives. A game of real-life Risk with flesh and blood soldiers that went too far, and it's become one more gruesome trophy that humanity will hang on their wall, like a sun-bleached cowskull on the veranda of a Texan ranch. It's not the sort of thing you can just figure out over a cup of tea during the commercial for Countdown...Apparently Gordon is more interested in "supercasinos and cannabis". Now that's a man whose on his job...

The Evening Standard ran an advert for Chaka Khan residency at The Jazz Cafe, which makes a support slot at the O2 seem all the more likely. I have a soft spot for Ms Khan, since her music was featured in one of the most memorable films from my childhood. Breakin' (or Breakdance as it was called over here). Ah, Ozone - you looked 40 years old, still lived in your parents garage and hung out with little kids...I've just completely ruined that film for myself. The song in question is Ain't Nobody. Gully.

Tomorrow Beverley Knight warms up in the O2 tomorrow night before going on (I would imagine) to another aftershow jam.

And, finally...3121.com have officially denied the story that Prince had sent out for Kate Nash like takeaway pizza. There was something of the 60's rock star vibe about that story that I quite liked. None of this "I'll have your people call my people and we'll do lunch" guff. Find her. Bring her to me. Simple. I, for one, am saddened that it's untrue.

The height of human acheivement

Ralph Lauren's '07 Fall Range. Modern Canine.

Monday August 13th: Both our boys are doing well in the papers today. The whole world is giving Gordon his three cheers and drunken rendition of 'For He's A Jolly Good Fellow'. The Daily Mirror is leading the well wishers, enthusing over Gordon's 10 point lead in the opinion polls...

I'm sorry - I was distracted by a picture of Paris Hilton's handbag cur, wearing a polo shirt. Why is dog clothing even in existence? Is this what we, as a species, leave as our legacy when the last human being turns out the lights and goes quietly into that good night? When the bomb drops and all is turned to rubble and ash and this planet is visited by beings, hailing from galaxies millions of light years hence, will they judge us by the 'It's a Dog's Life' chihuauha hoodie, snagged on a steel pole, blowing gently in the breeze?

I was in San Diego last year when I noticed a shop with very small T-shirts hanging in the window. One of them was inscribed with the phrase '#1 Bitch'. My first thought was "Wow. Someone's really going to scar their kid for life by making them wear that garment." It wasn't until I saw two dogs in jumpers about 10 minutes later that the penny finally dropped. Seriously though. Why? Do dogs worry about being naked? No. They are too busy chasing tennis balls, going for walks and shitting in their neglectful owners' shoes. Dog clothing has to be one of those ideas that came about as the result of a drunken bet and someone's inability to just accept that they had backed a few too many and they were talking nonsense. Well, here we are, however many years down the line, and they've made a fortune out of people who tape Animals Do The Funniest Things to watch over and over. And over...

Anyway - there's a picture of Gordon grinning, above Rosa Prince's Top 10 reasons why Brown's better than Cameron. My favourite is Number 6: "Brown is a grown up". Others included "Brown is a footie fan" and "Cameron is all PR and no trousers". Diet Blair is going through it right now. Even The Independent, the Switzerland of newspapers, is getting at him. The cartoon on the Editorial & Opinion page shows Dave getting beamed aboard a flying saucer, being instructed to come home. as this is happening he seems to be losing his clothes. All of which have the name-tag T. Blair in them. Right down to his drawers.

The Conservatives must be kicking themselves for being so hasty to let 3 leaders go before it was Diet Blair's turn at the wicket. The walking charisma voids that are William Hague and Iain Duncan Smith will be sitting in their country residences right now chuckling to themselves.

Prince played a blinder today. According to The Daily Star ("Prince's Pash For Nash"), he heard Kate Nash's single on the radio and told his entourage that he wants them to track Nash down and bring her to see him. You've gotta love that. If one of my friends said that they had a thing for a girl on the radio and wanted her brought to him, I would think "Hahahaha - Yeah, whatever..." if he persisted with his demands, the "stalker" alarm would start ringing. I mean, I'd like Rosario Dawson to be tracked down and brought to me, with a beer in each hand (OK, the beers can wait. For now...) I'd also like Ferrari Enzos in every colour of the rainbow. Does that mean that I'll get them? This is exactly the brand of lunacy the British press loves. The tabloids get their 'Pop Loon' headline and the broadsheets get to wax philosophical about the what it is to be an artiste. If he keeps on giving them stories like that the newspapers may just club in to pay his wages for a few more gigs.

PS - For all your dog clothing needs - visit PetSmart at 8657 Villa La Jolla Drive,La Jolla,CA

Don't call it a comeback....

You Must Learn: Diet Blair is going to have to step his numbers game up if he wants to move to the Big Dog.

Sunday August 12th: Having finally dared to believe that summer has arrived (for a week, at least) I write to you this evening high on barbecue (Happy Birthday, Natalie).

Diet Blair has today realised that he must say something to the press in order to stop himself getting mauled by Gordon in the ratings like a bear hunter who only managed to graze his prey with one shot, before Gentle Ben not so gently turns and takes his bad day out on him. Just say anything, Dave! Red tape and regulations? That will do. Put it out there - it's been so long since he'd been in the papers for anything other than not being in the country that I imagine he's quite grateful for the coverage.

The Sunday Telegraph picked that one up. He's backing John Redwood's proposal to save British businesses £14 billion a year. Under this new plans there would be "more places for the elderly in care-homes", the de-regulation of mortgage provision and proposed that companies should have "more freedom to make employees redundant". . Now, I've been made redundant before. It sucks. There is no greater power that a company can have above saying "We're not paying you anymore. Now piss off", is there? Maybe they'll award them the power to come round to your house afterwards, during dinner and tell your family that you're a bum.

It's a slick little jab as well, because he knows numbers are Gordon's thing. As I have said before, Gordon is all about the numbers. Diet Blair is calling him out. It's about to be like Kool Moe Dee vs Busy Bee at Prime Minister's Question Time.

Technology conspired against me yesterday, but you thought I was going to let a disobedient computer stop me from bringing you The Real, once again? Never that. All it needed was a swift (re) boot.

Friday was the first 'theme' night - The band was decked out in Japanese robes and once again came on stage through the crowd. It looks like Prince is powering up right now - anyone familiar with epilsepy inducing Japanese arcade games knows what I'm talking about. He's building up to that one move (or in this case stage outfit) that will destroy all that came before it. He only went and drew for the old skool ruffled shirt. At this rate he'll be rocking the full matador outfit by the tour's end.

Wolverhampton's own Beverley Knight joined him for the aftershow party and made the soul connection with Shelby J and Marva King.

Saturday saw the debut of the piano solo set, during which Prince ran through a bunch of not-yet-played classics such as the B-side favourite, Erotic City. The folks at 3121.com reported that everyone from the fans to security was feeling it. He also took the time to tease the crowd with snatches of jams like Pop Life and Sign O The Times.

Another celebrity guest for Prince last night. According to The News Of The World, Diddy was in the house after flying in from Ibiza, and stopping on Savile Row to cop a suit before hitting the o2. Take that, take that...

Don't land at the airport, call it the clearport...

Good moaning: Cheer up, Roberts! They've got nicer hats than ours.

Saturday August 11th: Just when you thought the summer had arrived, the Daily Mail rain long and hard on Gordon's parade. The Saturday Essay - written today by Andrew Roberts is a look at Britain after what I initially assumed to be some sort of nuclear armageddon. It was in fact a fictionalised account of the UK in 2020, after Gordon had betrayed us to those bloody foreigners (Copyright: Daily Mail). Just some examples of the terrors we would be subjected to by our EU slavemasters are: The banning of Union Jacks, being made to hand the Falklands back to Argentina (Does this really bother them that much. I always thought it was just a bunch of rocks with penguins living on it. There is absolutely, positively no gold in them thar hills) and perhaps worst of all, French police patrolling our streets. Seriously, it makes you wonder what they're so unhappy about - they're rich. And not just regular rich. They're endangered-species-rug-rich. At times The Mail paints such a bleak vision of the future that it makes me wonder if the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse have been drafted onto the editorial team. If Britain signs the EU Treaty, the moon will turn the colour of blood and a plague, the likes of which have never been seen will be visited on this green and pleasant land.

Their front page headline today simply read "DEATH OF THE MORNING POST". I didn't read the article, but I'm willing to get Cluedo on it and hazard a guess at who they think the culprit is...

The travel industry has suffered enough in recent years, what with bad press for polluting the planet and it seems that Going Places may have got in Gordon's ear, because as of right now climate change protesters at Heathrow are being treated as terrorists, according to The Guardian. Police have been granted the power, under Section 58 of the Terrorism Act which makes illegal to make a record of information that can be used for acts of terror. Student Cristina Fraser, was arrested under said act and held in a cell for 30 hours. The nefarious acts of terror planned by the protesters are said to include living in tents, using solar and wind power and cooking communally. All sounds pretty above board. Wouldn't catch me out there though. No mention of running water and definitely no mention of satellite TV. That's a mug's game.

Back to Section 58 though. Would the aforementioned records of information include a shopping list which features items which, by themselves are harmless, but combined could make a devastating explosive? It's vital I know, as the very last thing I'd want is to get jumped by Special Branch on my way out of Sainsbury's. "IT'S PASTA SAUCE AND A BOTTLE OF CIF!! GET YOUR STINKING HANDS OFF ME!" The Met are whooping ass and taking names. And not the made up ones like Willow and Badger. No sir, they'll keep that on file, because they never know when they might need to boot you out of your bed and drag you down the station to be questioned under burning hot 100 watt desk-lamps. They won't be the energy-saving kind either.

Unless they are planning to lie down on the tarmac is there anyway the peaceniks can stop Iberian Airlines Flight 85 on it's way to Benidorm? Standing in front of a jet engine will only lead to getting ground into mince when it sucks you into the blades and spits you out the other end. Surely, the only way to cause widespread disruption is to go to the check-in desks and act like one of the loons from Airport when they realise that their bag has gone missing. If each protester does that - that's 1500 bags missing. That will bring Heathrow to a halt in just under a couple of hours. The job's a good'un. Exctinction Level Event averted.

AAAAARGH! My computer is slowing down....Damn - the taskbar just disappeared. Someone out there doesn't want you lot knowing the truth. Is that you, Gordon? I thought we were bredrin - why would you do mans like that?? I promise you double Prince tomorrow. It was all about the one handed guitar solos last night, apparently...

It's close to Pirbright - and there's something evil lurking on the farm...

Summer Village Fete - August '07

(Still technically) Friday August 10th - Both of our protagonists are a little shy today. Prince is playing Show 5 of 21 tonight. I have scouts in the audience, who have promised to deliver me their opinions of the show. I'll give them a few hours for the awe to wear off first.

At the moment, foot and mouth seems to be staying put. There have been rumours of third and fourth affected farms in this neck of the woods. There have also been murmurings of Legionnaires Disease. Not a good look. It's not long now before the sleepy hamlets of Surrey begin to resemble something out of Thriller.

Gordon has also been called upon to grant fast track visas to Iraqi translators. Understandable really. Iraq:Under New Management doesn't appear to be panning out all that well. I'm not sure the locals are as receptive to McDonalds, giant casinos and Desperate Housewives as George would have hoped. And no matter what the Channel 4 polls say about the worst places to live in the country, a two bedroomed flat in Weston-Super-Mare is probably infinitely preferable than being blown up in your car as you get ready to head off to work, for helping the 'liberating' forces. Go on, Gordon. Have a heart. Give the people who probably saved the troops from getting killed a whole bunch of times a chance.

The 3AM Girls got a scoop from Prince though. They have confirmed that his hero is King Solomon. He of 1000+ wives. You'd never guess from the songs...

Headed for Self Destruction?

All dressed up with nowhere to go: Should 50 wait for his invitation to dinner at Downing Street?

Thursday 9th August - I sat in the barbers reading the Guardian this afternoon. It appears Gordon is readying himself to tackle an issue that "Worried ministers move to tackle rise in gang violence". Surely, that's got to be a good thing. This latest bout of introspection was triggered by the murder of Jessie James, a teenager who lived on Moss Side, Manchester. He was apparently killed for refusing to join a gang. Although it's too late for Jessie, let's hope any action that they decide on is pro-active rather than waiting until the horse has bolted the stable before thinking it might have been an idea to close the gate. Give 'Mothers Against Guns' the money Blair promised them for starters.

One thing that I did find odd was the assertion that role models, such as rappers should be replaced. Sure, 50 Cent doesn't always have the most positive take on life, but his songs are entertainment, in that time honoured outlaw tradition. They are the ballads of an anti-hero. Hymns to fast money, faster women and the biggest gun you can lay your hands on. Is that any worse than what they stock in the 'Action' section at Blockbusters? What most of these people fail to realise is that he's a character. Like John Rambo, The Terminator and John McLean. Around his grandparents and his son he's probably just plain ol' Curtis. What if we were to apply that thinking retrospectively? What would Bond be without the sex, violence (and the occasional tongue in cheek xenophobia)? The character, who has been remodelled for each generation of cinema- goers, became an icon for shooting anything that moves and screwing anything with a pulse, and he's been doing it for over half a century. But when 50 is mentioned, they'll talk about the nine shots before they mention the fact that he's made a (non literal) killing on The Stock Market this year. If anyone has to shoulder some blame, why should it not be the guys who sign Curtis' cheques and by themselves yachts off the P.I.M.P profits? On his latest single I Get Money, he declared himself "stanky rich". If that's the case, right now Jimmy is reeking.

I spent a day holding a music workshop with school-kids in Peckham in February. These were kids who had a tougher up-bringing than I did. They didn't really have to listen to anything that I said. Unless you went looking for trouble, when I was a kid, you wouldn't find it in Surrey. That's not necessarily the case now, unfortunately. Musically, they were a lot more organised than I was at that age. They all had their bars written up, they knew who had chemistry with who over certain types of beats. They hadn't just taken on board the superficial imagery that rap in it's flimsiest form offers. They'd adopted the work ethic too. I sat and watched the next generation get down for theirs with near military precision. The 'What Ends You From?' mentality didn't even figure. Sure there were a couple of moments when we had to step out of the booth to give them time to think about what they were spitting, but they had that unbridled enthusiasm about them. Of course, they won't all end up in the spotlight. Not everyone gets to rock Wembley Stadium to rave reviews, but the important thing was the fact that they were expressing themselves. When people lose that ability, that's when you get Columbines and Virginia Techs. John Pitts - a professor from the University of Bedfordshire, said that his research had shown that 75% of the gangs in South London, used kids playing truant from school as drug runners. To me, that's a clue to the 'solution' (I don't like having to use that word in this context, because it makes it sound like there is an answer waiting, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow) - if school is not engaging them, they're going to find other avenues for their ambition. What other people happen to think about those avenues is neither here nor there.

The kids I spent the day with just need to have that energy channelled in the right direction. We talked about music for most of the school day. We showed them footage of Rakim and Slick Rick at Rap Mania (Ricky D's truck jewellery is officially admired across the generation gap now), rhymed with them and had them sit through one of my favourite documentaries Just For Kicks - to show them how an artform and the culture created by young Black people, who probably had a similar upbringing to them has become a worldwide movement. I was genuinely surprised that 14 year-old kids knew Ice Cube. And I'm not talking Are We There Yet Ice Cube, I'm talking the 'Jheri Curl, Letter from The FBI' Ice Cube. I don't know if it's enough to tell kids who they can and cannot look up to. They're naturally going to gravitate towards the rebel. That can't be helped. And that's not to say that they shouldn't look up to the likes of Ozwald Boateng. He's made himself a household name, by throwing Savile Row on his back and carrying the bespoke suit industry into the 21st Century. And the suits look good too (Ozwald, holla at your boy!)

Don't worry, I'm not going all 'hug a hoodie' on you. On the flip-side, some kids are just bad and need their asses whooped. Yeah, I said it.

Save for the occasional ad, the newspapers are disappointingly Prince-free today. Rumoured support act Amy Winehouse, who had just been nominated for 3 MTV Awards, found herself in hospital yesterday, with what her record company called 'exhaustion'. I personally can't wait for the weekend. I'm leaving the car at home and catching the train for a change so I can get completely 'exhausted' too. I've seen Ms Winehouse live once. On tip-toes outside a packed Deal Real a couple of years ago. Great voice. I think she was playing guitar too. This was before superstardom set in and she still filled out a pair of leopard skin leggings pretty well. It's a shame to think a talented musician may end up going the way of Doherty.

Revenge is a dish best served...with bread

It could be you: Loaf.














Wednesday August 8th: Today, Gordon is in the thick of it. The talk in the newspapers today is of Skullduggery. Hi-Jinks. Shennanigans. Espionage. Cow poisoning. Is there something afoot at The Old Farm? Could it be a case of Murder Most Fowl? This can only have been the work of a twisted criminal mastermind, like Blair. Blair in league with Diet Blair. That will be why he's left the country. They're holed up on an island somewhere, inside a mountain carved into Blair's grinning likeness, watching Surrey's farmers weep in their fields on Sky News.

The Daily Mirror has equated an intentional release of foot and mouth to a disgruntled employee putting a mouse in a loaf of bread after being fired from the bakery. They have not accounted for the fact that, in a bakery - one of those industrial ones that makes the surrounding town smell of cake - not every loaf makes it out of there. I know because I worked in one. Summer 1998. Wiping down giant ovens, sweeping up errant crumbs and watching the World Cup in a shed by the front gates. Hundreds of loaves a day went straight into the bin - never knowing the pleasure of being a peanut butter and jam sandwich, eaten with a glass of Nesquik on the side. No, sir - they went straight into that giant metal barrel and emptied into a truck. My point is, that one mouse in a loaf may go unnoticed to the landfill, without getting its photo taken for the local paper with a distressed looking housewife under the headline "I'D EATEN HALF OF IT BEFORE I REALISED!" It's the potential for revenge that motivates such behaviour. I can tell you this because I've had enough jobs that I've hated during my working life. It's that final act of rebellion - that last middle finger to the supervisor, saying even if Health And Safety don't come down on you like a ton of rodent filled granaries for this, I know I did it - as the lifelong Pumpernickle devotee is cast out of paradise to face the cruel world where bread is not allowed to run free, but is cruelly asphyxiated in plastic bags on the shelves of supermarkets.


My point is that one mouse could slip on by through the system, and they know this. It's just one of the myriad risks you take when you put mice in a loaf as an act of revenge. However, someone is definitely going to pay attention when all the nearby farm animals start drooling and limping and then have to be killed. Sure the guy in HR always got the last coronation chicken at the sandwich van, but did you have to do them like that?


I tip Gordon to deal with it, anyway - He's got the Health & Safety Executive on it, which is the sensible thing to do. He also went to Reigate the other day, and looked thoroughly 'craggy' (to the Daily Mail's glee, I'm sure) afterwards.

In yesterday's Evening Standard, columnist Richard Goodwin wrote about how he took his mum, Mrs. Goodwin to one of the Prince shows. What was on your mind, money? I daren't think what would have happened if I'd gone with my old dear. Sorry, I meant, Mrs. Annobil. As a retired teacher she has remained deeply entrenched in a routine that requires a cup of camomile tea at 8 o'clock before 10 hours of sleep each night. She would have been toast before the first encore. Don't get me wrong, I like spending time with Mrs. Annobil. The militant disciplinarian I remember from my childhood has all but gone, making way for a woman who likes nothing more than to eat dinner on the sofa in front of Songs Of Praise, while insisting that anyone else who eats in the living room will cause "mess". And, of course, my fourth complimentary beer would have been "enough". Mrs Annobil also dislikes music played loud enough to strain conversation in a car. A 20,000 seater arena would have been too much, bless her. I yearn to drive the family Passat, if only to blow the cobwebs out of the speakers with some Jimi and Public Enemy. Goodwin enjoyed himself. He doesn't say what Mrs. Goodwin, thought of it, although he admits he texted her to apologise for a "weird evening". "Next time we'll stick to Scrabble" he concludes.

Let that be a lesson to you, Goodwin. That's what happens when you take that extra couple of steps, for the sake of the story. You end up face to face with the abyss. The terrifying unknown that your brain could not prepare for. I'm sure there must have been one point, during the night when his mind turned on itself and said to him. "You're a grown man. At a Prince show. With your mum. For a laugh. What the fuck?"

From the look of things Prince is cranking it up this week. Last night he was supported by Grupo Fantasma - an 11 piece Texan funk/merengue/ afro-latin / salsa/ hip-hop group. Sounds like a blast. A few more classics stuck their heads over the parapet last night. 3121.com excitedly, mentioned the first outings of Diamonds And Pearls and How Come You Don't Call Me Anymore. He also got down on the keys, guitar and drums, and jammed Higher Ground and Superstition by Stevie Wonder at the aftershow party. Once again they made some sort of crazy super band for the afterparty. With most tours, the band would probably start to flag after the fifth night in the same city. Not the man from Minneapolis, it would seem. This bodes well for full blown musical lunacy on the final night.

Where, Oh Where is Diet Blair?

Ooooh, what a lovely tea party?!: Practice makes perfect, Gordon...

Tuesday 7th August: The Daily Telegraph have today done Gordon the honour of an analysis. Political Correspondent, Graeame Wilson writes that his high rating with voters and media alike is due to "his lack of Blairite theatrics - the actorly pauses and faux sympathy."

Not declaring war on people also helps.

Gordon had a good decade to perfect being 'The Anti-Blair', as it were. Much like little girls play at having tea parties, I'm certain Gordon re-enacted Question Time and crisis managment press conferences in his living room with soft toys, once in a while. Y'know - long Saturday afternoon, the wife is out shopping, nothing on telly, no long sums to do. Might as well get some practice in, innit? There is however a cloud to the miles of silver lining, when Wilson insists that should cuts in government funding have been made to the Institute of Animal Health's budget, then Gordon might have to answer "some very difficult questions"

If this carries on any further - Cautious optimism may begin to break out across the country. We'll see. He's planted his flag on world poverty but can he convince young people to stop stabbing their school mates, before the August Bank holiday? When the pressure cooker atmosphere of the ever shrinking Notting Hill Carnival takes hold, it can make an otherwise sensible kid do something stupid and get him a one-way ticket on an iron vacation.

It appears Diet Blair is still AWOL, hunting photo opportunities and presenting himself as someone who is aware of the world beyond Greater London( That'll learn him). While he's not around to defend himself, The Daily Express stick the boot into the rigid, fly infested corpse of Diet Blair's credibility. They sicced no less a man that Chief Political Commentator, Patrick O'Flynn on him. "Time and time again people commented that they had no idea what he stood for. " - the 'they' being Conservative voters. Middle England has been OWN3D.

Show #4 tonight and the names of rumoured support acts have begun to leak - Grupo Fantasma, Chaka Khan, and my future babymum, Mya, may well join Prince on stage between now and Wednesday 21st September. As I write this Beverley Knight should be kicking off her first support slot...Well, the wheels have been set in motion meaning I may well be back in the trenches on Saturday evening.

Monday, Monday...

Tell 'em why you mad, son!: Gordon's message to journalists.






It's official, the battle for London starts here:



By Reverend Media (based on the poster for the infamous Riddick Bowe fight interrupted by a parachutist)





Many thanks to Jimmy for the artwork. The boy's a genius, no?







The Daily Mirror have today declared their undying love for Gordon and begged for an autumn election. That's like getting a girl's name tatooed on you after you've been seeing each other for a month and a half. Creepy. Diet Blair has disappeared from sight - appearing briefly as a foot and mouth affected cow in The Independent's cartoon. Even The Daily Mail, traditional bearers of the Blue Standard, have turned their back on him in disgust, much like the Cobra Kai coach in Karate Kid when his student loses, even after sweeping the leg.

It is possible that he may have been taken hostage deep in the Afghan mountains, while looking for a place that The Old Boys Club couldn't have him 'iced'. When they received the phonecall demanding the ransom at Conservative Party HQ, whoever answered the phone (probably the original 'foot-in-mouth' rudebwoy, Boris) simply said "Sorry, my good man - we don't know any 'Dave'." *Click*.





Trevor Kavanagh in The Sun is terrified of being tricked into Europe - stating that "Britain's vital relationship with the US will be shredded for ever." In recent years, that relationship may have seemed like the one Paris Hilton has with her handbag micro-dog, but don't bite that hand that buys the Pedigree Chum, right?





The issue of George Bush's gift to Gordon last week is on the verge of becoming an international incident. It was revealed yesterday that journalists had snuck a peek inside the box on the chartered plane they were sharing with Gordon and taken a photo of the jacket. They all swore each other to secrecy. Swearing a journalist to secrecy is like swearing a prostitute to celibacy. Within hours the photos had made it onto the internet. The British government rushed to deny suggestions that The Prime Minister would not be seen dead in such an item and so 'Bombergate' was born. If I was Gordon, I would ask George for one of those 7XL 'Stop Snitching!' T-Shirts next time.

Foot and mouth is still in the papers but no major outbreak has been reported. It's just sort of lurking around Surrey, and making people feel a little uneasy. Like Phil Collins.

That most important of celebro-social barometers, The OK! Celebrity Chart, places Prince at number 6 for the week. He earned his rating for the "rave reviews as he kicks off a string of mind blowing gigs at London's O2 Arena." Fair enough. Above him in the fame ladder this week are two Big Brother contestants (and your fifteen minutes starts...........NOW!) and David Beckham, who must have made a couple of million dollars for warming the LA Galaxy bench since his transfer. Good work!

That's all for Mr. Nelson today - it's been two days since the last show, so the plaudits and hyperbole should be with us again around midweek.



And we may have our first candidate for a 'dousing'. One newspaper ran a review of the first night at the O2 four days after the event and said piece seemed to contain a poor facsimilie of my deliciously descriptive turn of phrase. Imitation, so they say, is the greatest form of flattery. It's nice to know you're reading.