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All Things Can But Not Neccesarily Should


Never before has food been quite so contentious and disgusting.

Ladies and Gentlemen – I give you – The Lasagnwich! The Lasagnwhat? You heard!


Suddenly there is temptation to start speaking like Peter Kay and walking around shouting and pointing in mock disbelief:


“Lasagne! In a sandwich?”

“A sandwich ? With lasagne in it”?

Yes – with a mighty dollop of mayonnaise slathered in between both sides presumably to help the starch slip down with yet more fatty imbued starch I guess. It could be worse – it could be deep-fried? Or god forbid in a tin like this poor unfortunate and rather flaccid looking whole albino chicken covered in what looks like obstetric scan gel?


I dread to think what else comes from Sweet Sue’s Kitchen – but perhaps I’ll save that for another post. In my forays I did come across a whole tinned cheddar which when grated looked like maggots on a platter. Apparently it goes down a storm in Australia due to the lack of fridges. Again, mind boggles.

Anyway, back to sandwich’s. Imagine if you could get a sandwich in a can? Pardon the pun but you can! Well you were going to before the inventor took the $153 million investment money and spent it all on real estate, fast cars and horses for himself.


Actually I think he has done the world a favour – these won’t be seeing the light of day now until the fraud case has been decided. Candwichman will be eating a different sort of sandwich from now on and in a different and rather ironically named new home – the can!

Can you dig it?

Sayonara toodlepip children.

The Complaints Dept Is Open


Goodness – it has been a long time. Seems that I have had a bit of a blogblock but am slowly overcoming it. Below is a bloody brilliant bit of complaining that my Dad has submitted to Jacky at the rather Kafa-esquely named Olympic Delivery Authority – Planning Decisions Team (what?):


In our time we have seen some vacuous bombast from Mr. Kapoor but this is literally astonishing in it’s incoherence. The metallic surface/colour is that seen on pound shop flasks. It displays an utter lack of any indication of form/function/dynamic [see adjacent stadium & Thames basin light] and ‘connecting’ with the senses. The ‘movement’ of the whole – it’s energy, is that of a coat-whirling lout drunk on cider at an Iron Maiden gig – circa 1980., or a Hammer Throw gone very, very, wrong.

Within the context of the site it looks as if a rogue scrap merchant has dumped this overnight, to despoil a site as would the worst of graffiti on a clean building. What is required is a clean simplicity that does reach for the stars – as does the ‘Shard’ . The very sight of the ‘orbit’ brings a shudder engendered by the worst of totalitarian monsters, the ethos of threat, oppression and thuggish dogma. Even the base entrance/platform is a dull hostile box – think 1950’s army barracks. An accident that looks as if has already happened, or is delayed in time. It is vulgar to the point of insult.

It has no remarkable post-Olympic function such as a concert arena in the sky. Even though sheathed in it’s lurid metallic lustre, being steel it will eat up maintainence funds when the east winds prevail October through April. I’m sorry, but we object and in the strongest terms possible. Thank you – JE.


Oooh Papa! Nay, nay and thrice nay!

Resisting The Urge


I am off to see Iggy & The Stooges perform the whole of Raw Power as per the original 1973 line-up tonight. It will be strange not seeing Ron Asheton up there in his army jacket with his trademark stance of standing virtually still, dancing his elegant hands over the guitar strings and making an amazing sound like a cheesegrater being rubbed over the frets.

Even better the gig is at smelly old Hammersmith Apollo (nee Odeon) which has a bar that looks like it should be inhabited by extra’s from Star Wars. I am so looking forward to this gig. But I am also trying very hard to resist the urge to dress like this:


or this:


I will probably end up going in something like this:


No not really!


Nice jacket.

Tube Tales

I took pictures of people while they weren’t looking on the tube home last night.

Specimen 1: Aussie girls going home after working restaurant shift:


Specimen 2: Italian couple talking Italian. She had trout lips and very expensive leather gloves and they were fascinated with a passenger who had a doughnut in a clear carrier bag:


Specimen 3: A very glam long-legged woman reading a catalogue trying not to laugh:


Specimen 4: A man reading the koran. He was with mates who weren’t into what he was doing. He was also with his much younger brother who should have been in bed!


There is a picture I didn’t take out of respect (but wanted to) on the way into town. A painfully thin and obviously dying man sitting next to an also painfully thin man off his face on very strong drugs. The contrast was startling. Both men dying but at very different rates and brought together in a totally random formation in a city of millions. Who would have thought that they would have ended up sitting next to each other – both I am sure on very separate personal journeys. On the one hand a terminally ill man having probably one of his last night’s out with his partner. He looked so thin and weak. His new thin shoulders swamped and awkward under his old, healthily-shouldered overcoat. I looked down and his shoes were very new and hardly worn. Brown and plain but filled with the most magnificently pink socks. A hint to a vibrance of the soul that still lurked as the remainder was being cruelly sucked away. I wanted to congratulate him on his choice of socks but he looked like he didn’t want anyone to see him. I wanted to ask if I could take a picture of his shoes and socks as I knew this said so much about him but didn’t out of respect. When he got up I could see why the shoes didn’t look worn. Each step was very light and the foot placed with the least pressure possible. I could see the effort for him to walk was extraordinary and as he left the carriage I wondered how much it must of been for him to dress himself that evening. I could see his live determination as if it were fizzing. I imagine he won’t be able to do that very soon. The man in the pink socks. I wish him well.

Gank Genk Gink Gonk Gunk


Hands up who had a gonk? Am I showing my age? What on earth possessed people to

(a) make these ?
(b) buy them ?
(c) collect them ?

I had a few – a turquoise fun fur one, a really ugly brown one that got bullied by the other gonks and my favourite one which was made of pale sugared-almond-pink rabbit fur. Actually it may have been baby kitten fur for all I know as it was handmade by my evil Nana. I had a nice ‘Gran’ and an evil ‘Nana’. It was evil Nana that made me the gonks. I ended up getting quite bored of them and donated them to a really square girl who lived across the road from me called Rosemary. Rosemary had much older parents than mine and was really good. She never got into trouble and only ever wore skirts – and never dressed in anything unless it was static-inducing nylon.


She was always smiling despite the fact she never came out to play much or join in our mammoth riding up and down the street on our bikes sessions. I once invented a “Secret Spy Club” but didn’t invite her to join because she was too boring and wouldn’t bring biscuits to the meetings which was a proviso for joining. But quietly we were all a bit envious of Rosemary as she had a huuuge gonk collection and that was why we wanted to spy on her. The rumour went that she actually had a human size gonk amongst her 70-proud gonk collection but no one was ever allowed in to see them. Even after Rosemary had finally left home her mother said that she had kept her room as it was complete with full gonk collection. I am surprised she could get in it for all the gonks but there you go.


I always wondered what happened to Rosemary and her gonks.

Gil Scott-Heron Is Back! Update: free album preview.

Update: a little freebie from those lovely people at XL – you can preview the whole of the new album here:

I was beginning to worry that Gil Scott-Heron was never coming back after another spell in prison and an ongoing battle with serious illness. Here is a preview of the first release off the forthcoming album out Feb 08 2010. Apparently on tour in the UK April – if they let him in the country (Gil leave the drugs at home)! Let’s hope he does and they do. I think this is great.


And don’t forget to watch, rate, share Rockmother Films’ Rat Scabies Grailhunter Teaser here
And if you love it that much you can become a fan here


And if you are still bored and desperate for something to do then whip out the ironing and load up
** Listen With Rockmother podcasts here **


Happy listening my little choux buns!

Banksy Goes To Sundance

Here is the trailer for Banksy’s forthcoming feature Exit Through The Gift Shop. Like it. Like it a lot.

And don’t forget to watch, rate, share Rockmother Films’ Rat Scabies Grailhunter Teaser here
And if you love it that much you can become a fan here

And remember kids…


Keep ’em peeled!

And if you are still bored and desperate for something to do then whip out the ironing and load up
** Listen With Rockmother podcasts here **

Ta ra chooks.

© Shameless Plug Promotions 2010

Rat Scabies Grailhunter!

Yes – we’ve been a bit busy over the last few months over here at Romo Towers digging the wondrous Mr Rat Scabies out of his West London habitat and sending him off on a mission which so far has taken him from Folkestone to France and back. The culmination of which is this three minute teaser film for what hopefully will eventually become a series. So without further ado I give you…Rat Scabies Grailhunter!

Comments and feedback welcome.
Join the facebook fanpage here


All new New Year Listen With Rockmother podcast here:

and all other Listen With Rockmother archive shows here


Get Me Some Of That Crazy Shit!


Ladies and Gentelmen I give you….Hot Shito! No shit – does what it says on the tin.

All new New Year Listen With Rockmother podcast here:

and all other Listen With Rockmother archive shows here

And if you are still bored – here is Extreme Toboggan Fitness Rockmotherstyle:

(c) Sore Arse Productions

New Year New Podcast New Brain New Seekers New New Now That’s What I Call No.25!


Goodness gracious me – it’s a New Year and a brand new podcast from The Rockmother. Yes I know – I almost fainted myself to be honest – mainly with the sheer effort of withstanding a 28 hour+ upload problem whilst preparing a New Years Eve meal and surviving an attack of pre-alzheimers to boot. There is a glaring error in this podcast – can you spot it? I’m off to order my trepanning kit because Father Christmas failed to bring me one this year – again.

Click HERE for latest LISTEN WITH ROCKMOTHER podcast. Or play here:


Ta ra chooks. And enjoooy.

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