Posts Tagged ‘mutants’
The Concorde brain incubators
Posted on: November 15, 2008
I was at Heathrow airport, watching a Concorde take-off. The plane was being piloted by a well known female newsreader, that may have been Fiona Bruce. Somehow I knew that there was going to be a crash, like I was watching it from the future or on television. Anyhow the plane took off and soon caught fire and went out of control. But in a way I was controlling it in my mind, attempting to steer it to safety. After many nosedives, loop the loops, the plane negotiated a crash landing, ploughing into a mobile ambulance.
The plane caught fire and when the firemen went in to investigate, they found that the passengers had been sleeping in the luggage compartments above the seats. Opening these up, they found people with weird skull defects, some with great big cerebellums, others with reptilean tails coming out of their heads, one that looked like one of the aliens from “War Of The Worlds”, big eyes on dendrite like arms.
One of the passengers took umbrage at being called a mutant and explained that the plane was full of very talented and celebrated folk, hence their big brain evolutions. The passenger explained that he was a well-known Greek film maker currently directing a new version of “Frankenstein”.
At this point I started mutating myself, and a great big reptilean tail grew out of the base of my skull. Over the next fews days it gradually receded but I was concerned when it eventually retracted it would leave a hole at the base of my skull.
The Traditional Irish Pub
Posted on: November 13, 2008
- In: Brand Names | films | Mutation | Pub | Rock Stars | Songs
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I was in Seven Sisters, looking for a club that I was going to play a gig at. After many tribulations I arrived at a crescent of bars. It looked slightly wild west in appearance, a frontier town of sorts, not unlike the set of “Gangs Of New York”. The club was not yet open so I decided to visit a traditional Irish pub in one corner of the precinct.
When I got inside, I discovered it was frequented by a hostile phalanx of gnarly, bearded leprachauns, in biker garbs. They looked not unlike Lemmy from Motorhead, quite warty. Thinking it was just a few such folk at the bar entrance playing pool, I ventured further in, but found there were more and more of these folk. All hostile and quite mutated. Some of them just had stumps for arms, one was carrying a baby that was just a gnarly stump – presumably a baby leprachaun. At some stage they guessed I was not Irish and started singing an Irish drinking song about me being English… the tone of the song was quite derisory and hostile. At this point I decided to leave the bar, despite having ordered a pint of Guinness
day-glo dreams 