:: P-p-p-pick Up A Pumpkin ::

That time of year again I suppose... What with Wideboy's eighties-themed ghoulfest tonight and Dorset Diver's tapas-tinged birthday tomorrow, I look to be partied out (again) by Sunday. Although I never went trick or treating in my youth (my Mum believes HALLOWEEN IS EVIL), I've tended to be involved in a number of parties of this kind in the past few years: the staircase parties and beer-stained carpets at college; a giant watermelon punch containing 15 litres of vodka at the hostel in Russia; Wolverine's splendid smoke filled orgy last year.

The festivities this year have also given rise to some unusual crimes and expensive means to keep the dark forces at bay. My verdict? It's become just as tacky and commercial as any of the other annual cash cows for Hallmark Cards. If you like parties, have one with an offbeat theme. If not, barricade the front door and sit at home watching The Shining with the lights off. Cheer up - it's bonfire night next week!

P.S. Before I depart for the weekend, I ought to tell you that my favourite Japanese travel company is... Kinki Nippon Tourist Co Ltd.

:: All Shook Up ::

Well it's all been happening... What with the play and stuff, I've hardly had a moment to think about my dwindling readership. The production went well - I was happy with it, or rather I would have been if one of the actresses hadn't decided to insert the line "I need to shave my minge" on the last night. Audible gasps were heard from the seemingly unflappable audience. Predictably enough, we partied on late into the night and turned up rather the worse for wear at the theatre at 10 the following day to strike the set. As soon as I got home Little Miss Sparkles texted me to say that she was in town and would I meet her for a drink. Blergh! Well I did, but was a bit more restrained than the previous night...

Foreseeing my sorry state on Monday morning, I'd already booked the day off and thus avoided a someone's-sat on-my-head-and-shat-in-my-mouth day at work (I refer you to Hypatia post of October 23rd). So, what might my day off portend? Cleaning? Washing? Groaning in front of Des & Mel? I think not! Lunch at Freud with Jude beckoned accompanied by a brace of cocktails. Sometimes a boy just can't say no. Last night's drinking was a relaxed affair by comparison - went and did a pub quiz with a colleague. we came second (by half a point!) and won a free round and a fiver each. Better than a slap in the face with a wet kipper, I suppose.

But seriously, I'm not going to have a drink tonight. Really. It's time I tidied my room - at least I've got some friends to help me:

In case you were worried about my lack of commitment to current affairs beyond Devukha Dungeon, I have to say this whole thing about IDS is .......zzzzzzz
Erm, I seem to have drifted off. E4 is asking viewers to find a wifey for Wills. I can't comment except to wonder if, having exhausted the possibilities of Reality Tv, TV producers are now moving on to Surreality TV...

And finally (in the conclusive sense of the word). I present you with a few Engrish gems discovered during the course of a day at work:

A couple of airlines with their respective slogans:

~ from India: Air Sahara - Emotionally Yours
~ from indonesia: Lion Air - We Make People Fly

The following come from the publicity material of the latter company. They appear to be written by an extremely enthusiastic, yet not very proficient writer of English. He must have had access to a pretty decent phrasebook:

Meanwhile, Indonesian economy still immobile from messy during five years on caused by monetary crisis since the middle of 1997...

...since its first flight, Lion Air has been shifting entire aura of air transportation, and furthermore creates a reconfigure phase for whole sectors of national transportation toward efficient business. In the long run, Lion Air step forward as a phenomenon. It gives most attractiveness for everyone’s unprecedented with aircraft to fly throughout archipelago, and then to the regional air transportation.

So that's settled that then.

:: MULLET MULLET MULLET ::

Another Bloody Mullet Fansite

Oh dear. All this directing malarky is making me feel quite light-headed. Time for a haircut?

:: It Might Be Big, But It's Not Clever ::

Mullet... A word which used to strike fear into the hearts of all but the most unapologetic 80s throwbacks. Fifteen years ago, you couldn't open a newspaper without being confronted by the mishapenly hirsute bonce of a footballer or DJ. The last couple of years have seen a rise in this most unflattering of hair-dos in London's Fashionable Shoreditch, generally combined with other trappings of Trailer Park Trash "chic" - the petrol attendant's cap is a prime example. Sad to relate, this seems to be the final gasp of post-modern irony as this once über-trendy area succumbs to the mass market. It is the epitome of a style dictated by those who appear not to have any sense of fashion, decorum or self-worth. Before a rallying cry to bring back the frock coat or make tie-pins compulsory, I should explain.
Carrie Gibson's article in the Grauniad today bemoans this glorification of the USA's poverty-stricken south. Although Gibson might be accused of the bleeding-heart socially aware journalism for which that newspaper is despised and venerated in equal measure, I think her central point is clear: THE MULLET MUST BE BANNED.

For a start, the current state of public unease regarding potential terrorist attacks would be considerably allayed if the mullet were prohibited. No longer would the concealment of deadly weapons between flowing locks and the neck be a possibility. Just look at this chappie - apparantly he has three hand grenades and a large phial of anthrax concealed behind his lucious mane:

As if a single link exhibiting the worst of this absurd anti-fashion was not enough (see links to the right), here's another to make sure you know exactly what needs to be eliminated.

And if you get bored of that, you might want to analyse another ill-advised footballing hair-"style"...

And on that bombshell...

:: Friday Frolics ::

Busy again, but three more pearls of wisdom to grace your mental tiaras:

•   A recent search term for this site was: crushing machines of beko. I have no idea what they were looking for either...
•   A French judge was caught pulling his plonker whilst the defendant's case was being heard. Apparently he got off lightly with a slap on the wrist...
•   Buy your Post-Modern Ironic origami creations here. I'm really not sure if this is meant to be an elaborate hoax, or some Arty wankery.

Well have a good weekend, my little chums. I shall be installing things into the theatre, feeding La Grib's cats and attending a Slavic party. Things have rarely looked so frantic...

:: Strike Down the Band ::

Well hello!

Those of you slavering for a slice of the Devukha pie might have been chomping at the bit of late. Tight deadlines and almost daily rehearsals have severely restricted my ability to think, let alone express my mind-guff in a coherent fashion. Beyond a weekend fling at a well known Slough borstal, the social scene seems to have waned a little too. And some very sad news too: Blondinka B has left England's pleasant pastures for Uncle Sam's drive-through Dubya-ville. But who knows, I might get to see her at New Year if the proposed visit to L Russe Bezuhoff comes to fruition.

Talking of Americans over here, a site I saw today claims David Blaine Is A Fraud. I couldn't possibly comment on this and haven't ventured to Tower Bridge to see the verbal incompetent in his giant Ferrero Rocher box. Many people have noted he doesn't seem to have got hugely thinner - perhaps his genetic make-up is predisposed towards a more "substantial figure":

(Thanks to Dr Frank off of b3ta)

More topical foppery in the news that Ben Elton's latest musical opened last night. Based on the records of... Rod Stewart! God, if it wasn't enough to squash Queen's greatest hits into an indigestible three-hour bolus of theatrical bollocks. The man should be shot. At least he doesn't appear to be involved in another musical romp through the back catalogue of a great artist: The Lennon Project. Even saints aren't spared the Musical Make-over. Stop me before my stomach lining ruptures from vomiting...

Other important news of the past few days involves pastry phalli and the fact that VESUVIUS MAY ERUPT AGAIN AT ANY MINUTE. Only joking.

Oh, and some hell-raising former coke-head stole the Booker. More info here.

Erm, that's it. Nice to be with you again. We must do this more often.

Greek Product of the Week:

:: Arrrgh! ::

Too busy to write anything meaningful at the moment - so here's a lovely pic from b3ta's Smudger:

Off to the theatre now - Toodle-pip!

:: The Acid Test ::

Last night's bAsTaRd was a tubthumping whooper of a night out, although Tigger and I had to retire to our beds at a reasonable hour. Not many of the usual crowd were in attendance (La Grib was singing her heart out in the rehearsal room and it was a pity to miss Barba-Rei), but I'm afraid the absentees missed a treat. A video presentation from Eclectic Method, Video MishMashSluts Supreme and saviours/scourge of pop video culture. This was a full-on assault of the senses, far more than a simple visualisation of the beloved bootleg genre. Employing the pop videos of artists as diverse as The Coral, N*E*R*D and bootleggers' favourite Missy Elliot, these VJs wove a web of silky audio-visual deceit for over 30 minutes. They managed to incorporate spliced news footage apparently imploring the viewer to take part in the biggest ever national trial of LSD and classic clips from video bootleg pioneers (and founders of bAsTaRd), Cartel Communiqué. For most of the flabbergasted onlookers there was only one difficult decision - was it worth risking taking your eyes of the screen for a moment to succumb to the beat and shake that booty? Wideboy was unlucky enough to arrive just after the fun was over, a perfectly fitting punishment for the fact that he'd just come from the première of Kill Bill...

And now for a b3tan take on the most irritating poster campaign of the past few years, Love is...

Just because it's Friday, I'm going to spoil you with Ananova's finest so you don't have to trawl their sight for juicy bits. Here are some Thai religious freaks, who get pierced on a regular basis. And who could fail to be amused by the tale of the elderly Dutch farmers' wives who watched a porn film "by mistake". I just wonder what my granny would have made of it.

That's it for another week. I shall soon depart this dull sweatshop for a pub, where we shall be rehearsing my play. Honest!