I have come to save the day And I won’t leave until I’m done. So that’s why you’ve got to try. You got to breath and have some fun Though I’m not paid I play this game And I won’t stop until I’m done

(Until The Appointed One takes over. I am a patient man. I can wait.)

And who’d have thought Lenny Kravitz would ever have made it onto this show but, even down in Englandshire, I had heard the rumours. Emma J and Lenny K. Linked. An item. There had even been a photo in a Scottish tabloid. I’d seen it.

So, as I walk the lonely road, the only one that I have ever known, or Sauchiehall Street as others call it, I was determined to find out the truth. Emma J had wanted me to see a band called Black Velveteens. The venue? A bar called Box.

Except that was how it was supposed to happen. The harsh reality is that my car is off the road (em,….what is a crankshaft and is it important?) and so I walked down to Summerston railway station. I got soaked. My train was cancelled (as indeed were most Glasgowish trains ‘cos of the flooding) and a txt from Emma J said the gig was now in doubt. I turned back. FUBAR, I thought, except, is that not an elephant on children’s TV?

Black Velveteens. Listen to them on MySpace and see them live at G81, Clydebank Rugby Club start of August….just in case. 😀

Oh, and Jaymi tells me The Killers were pretty okay at Hyde Park as well, and L frae Troon liked AC/DC and………..aaaaargh!

Still, highlight of the week was that Son Brian bought me lunch. I thought, is this my birthday? It was. I love the way he extended the birthday experience by several days by forgetting my pressie. However, it was worth waiting for in that one of them was a book where the hero is ‘an alcoholic who cannot hold down a job’. Wkd. And your point is?

You’re dangerously close to losing your inheritance. I came seriously close to spending it in Soho the other day. Oh, the pleasures that area offers. I couldn’t believe the delight I came across. It was a record shop called Sister Ray. It was amazing.

(‘Mindless vandalism can take a bit of thought’ (Banksy))

And I ate in Chinatown and bought a magazine called ‘Weed World’ (a spliffingly good read) and Tim Henman does wear a tie when he does Wimbledon commentary and Krug Grand champagne is £135 per bottle in Canary Wharf and I spoke to a trainee doctor in London who told me how she was taught to break news of cancer ’empathetically’ and ‘cos the plane coming back uphill was going to be late in leaving a man did get up and get off and Guitar Hero is an arcade game and I am hooked on Caffe Nero iced drinks and I found a Waxy O’Connors and you should see my photo on my House of Lords pass and, yeah, London was okay, thanks for asking. 🙂

And thanks also to those who sent birthday cards, txts, mails and facebooked me with good wishes’n’stuff and a big apology to ppl like Missie K, the Vampire Slayer, L, Oonagh, Max, et al – I am so used to opening up a PC thing and then leaving it down on the task bar. I didn’t realise that on Facebook if you do that…….Missie K, you have an amazingly loud voice on Facebook, but well done to you, VS, and bestest friend ever Caitlin with uny results. So far, so good. Seriously well done. The rest of you?

And thanks to ex-wife (wkd sense of humour….nine years I think it was) for gifting me smallest bottle of Tabascan sauce in entire world ever in one of those really glitzy wine bottle bags. She always complained I never took her seriously. I just laughed. Wittingly.

(‘It’s always easier to get forgiveness than permission’ (Banksy))….mmmm, not sure about that one.

And I never found Molly Sugden’s ‘pussy’ gag funny. Whereas Steve Martin’s ‘pussy’ gag is just pure filth, but honestly so and says so much about the double standards of Are You Being Served? It’s on Google.

BBC Al, the blog’s bad taste pal is on holiday. Except, such is the culture on the BBC that, even after the watershed, a TV critic on BBC News Channel would only say the word ‘cat’. Em,…..it doesn’t explain the gag, doh! But it is safe, sensible and sane, if not funny.

And where was I when I heard Michael Jackson had died? In a newpaper shop in North London buying a newspaper telling me that Michael Jackson had died.

And word has just flooded in of a big drugs raid just down the road from me. Literally. Shuna Place, described by the BBC as ‘Glasgow’s West End’ 😉 just behind the Addiction Centre I used to attend in Ruchill. Seriously. Excuse me, whilst I nip out and shove my copy of ‘Weed World’ into my next door neighbour’s recycling bin. 400 plants apparently.

Mind you……given who told me, I suspect when they do the count it’ll be 399.

(‘People either love me or hate me or they don’t care’ (Banksy))

But on the cancer front, it’s almost the four months’ moment, when I get my blood tested again for the PSA levels. (Hopefully, every man you know over the age of fifty knows by now what that test is and why. If not, please ask me.) It’s pretty straightforward and I make the point always that, whilst my cancer was bad (8/10 on the Gleason Scale) the treatment was amazingly okay. Physically it’s almost as if it had never happened. (Mentally, mmmmmmm…..)

And then it’s the time for the little prick and the long wait of only seven days. (Sound familiar?) It’s a wee bit of a worry. Sometimes empathy’s a difficult thing to understand. Even sober. Even at one thirty in the morning……. Sorry. I was miles away there.

So finally, just to keep it fun again, my fave question from a Wimbledon press conference? Journo to Serena Williams; ‘Can you moonwalk?’ Serena; ‘No.’

What a brilliant attempt at a headline linking Jacko with another famous star. I’d never do that except maybe with the beginning of this week’s blog. You’d almost think I planned it.

Anyway excuse me while I go and break in a new pair of New Rocks. I go jogging in them. Aye…….Right.

cya

Johnt850,

(‘A lot of people never use their initiative because no-one told them to’ (Banksy)) Eh, bien……c’est toujours ton appel.

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