Unwanted Attention

Now I’ve noticed a pattern (that I had no plans to replicate initially, and will endeavour to put a stop to presently) of external referencing, specifically of websites where something interesting is occurring and warrants bringing to the attention of the discerning if misguided audience of this posting. This, with the unnecessary addition of commentary by your verbose and obfuscatory host (in so far as any nuggets of true worth – subjective or objective – are buried in sub- and sub-sub-clause, parenthesis and digression) seems to form the rudimentary basis of the last few posts, and indeed the greater portion of the blog as a whole. Therefore, after this post, I will return to the insular navel-gazing solipsism that normally constitutes my literary output and, mood allowing (and by mood I mean propensity for lack of clarity, eloquence and elegance of prose arising from the innate fear that anything I wish to impart has no intrinsic value whatsoever and should therefore be couched in pointless printed complication), may well be an interesting and / or diverting view of the inequities and idiosyncrasies of modern (i.e. post-post-modern, or, rather, contemporary) life in Europe’s youngest capital city*.

And so, back to White People Rapping Poorly (http://whitepeoplerappingpoorly.tumblr.com) and a very big thank you to Mike Young, formerly of some town near Halifax, Nova Scotia (how I wish it were Yankeetown or Cow Bay, Nova Scotia, but alas it is not) and currently hobbling about Cathays Park after misadventures ruptured his Achilles tendon, for the advice to check this out. It just tips over the “so bad it’s good” precipice and is now a firmly established and re-blogged cultural event. Here's a taster. Keep up the good work, crackers.

*Please note I quote verbatim from something I read somewhere at some time, possibly from a billboard or bus advert, the verisimilitude of which I can’t verify as anything other than a tag line from the tourism department of the allegedly corrupt council of Cardiff. It may be or may no longer be true, even if it ever has been, and performing a Google search adds layers of confusing pub wisdom to an otherwise pointless and ultimately tiresome endeavour. I wouldn’t countenance its investigation, and would advise anyone thinking of pursuing this line of enquiry to drop it, you boring fucker.

Comments

Rage, rage against the piling up of shite.

It’s Local Election Day in Cardiff, and on my way out with the dog, I am greeted by the smiling faces of the Liberal Democrats’ Plasnewydd Focus Team. I had naively believed that I might go one day without being harassed by the Liberal Democrats, but obviously today was not going to be that day. Nonetheless, it was the final straw for me and my paper-thin patience. A little history, and some contemporaneous comment, would be useful right about now I think. The Lib Dems have led the council in Cardiff since 2004. My sources in the Welsh Conservative Party have indicated that they are about to take a complete pasting in today’s local election, with Labour way out in front, likely to come close to the 50 members they had back in 1999. In my opinion, this is a justified spanking. And yet I am unable to justify this on a political level. According to some of the bombastic nonsense that comes through my door unbidden every single day of the week and often on weekends too,

There's a bit missing...

Stay angry, people.

Ed's dead, baby. Borrowed, with thanks, from the Independent I was unsure whether or not to write a post, post-election, on my post-election blues. For the most part, this was because I'm sure that political commentators, bloggers, activists, and people with far more understanding of the political landscape and the effect that the latest result would have on the lives of those for whom the spectre of a Tory government was only a bad dream, a shade that haunted at night when the lights burned low and the wolves howled at the door, had already used all of the adjectives and metaphors of despair in ways far more eloquent than anything I might come up with. I find however that I must say something, even if it doesn't help matters, to explain to myself more than anyone else why it is I feel so miserable. I will probably have no right to bemoan a Conservative government - my country still has a socialist leader, in theory if not in practice - particularly as I did very littl

There's a bit missing...

Back to you, sir.

It’s all a little bit exciting, if you’re me, which I am, to have revived something so Hanoverian as a literary feud! Such a back and forth brings to mind the savaging of John Rae by Charles Dickens post Franklin expedition (including the publication of Rae’s rejoinder in Household Words ), or the attacks by William Hazlitt on, well everyone. I only wish I had the intellectual vigour of a Hazlitt or indeed any of the great correspondents of the past, to be able to maintain a contiguous train of thought for longer than a lunch time, and to not to be interrupted and thus de-railed by something so mundane as a game of football. Still, to be galvanised at all in this age of short attention spans and antipathy to anything other than apathy is a miracle, and it is to football that, my wife’s scorn notwithstanding, I can give credit on this occasion. Swipe I set myself up for a pretty meaty swipe in retaliation for my retaliation previously . I sort-of lost the plot a little bit in places,

There's a bit missing...

From The Centrifuge

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