2003 End Of the Year Poll

Ahh, remember 2003? Happy Days.... Anyway, here's what the Pitch and Putt friends thought of '03.

The Harbinger


album of the year -Now That's What I Call Music Vol 56 . Just a great digest of everything. Vital, really.


single of the year - So Much for the City -The Thrills. Slow soul building to a crescendo of African Hi-life. Interminable.


film of the year - Haven't seen a good film since 'Best In Show [2000]. Donnie Darko was exceptional though.


tv programme of the year - The Morrissey Documentary shown on C4 this summer.


gig of the year - Friday 28th November. Justin Sarple at the White Horse. Forget the words, forget the music - just play, it's the process that matters.


event of the year - the birth of HRH Prince Edward's daughter. Beard gives birth to moustache.


website of the year - erm, this one.


person of the year - HM Queen Elizabeth II, winner last year and next.


book of the year - For me, the OS Map of the area around Ashwell in the Chiltern Hills has been invaluable. Saved my life in the failing evening on more than one occasion.


sporting event of the year - Stevenage Borough 3 Farnborough Town 1. Had everything. Goals. 3 bookings. 11 corners!!!!!!!!! Unforgettable.

Amy


album of the year - Just about every new album I bought this year has been a shitey let down (I'm especially looking at you Billy Corgan, you baldy bastard)

single/song of the year - One Horse Town by The Thrills, although my stereo must be fucked as if I play their album it just seems to be this one song on repeat (see above)

film of the year - Donnie Darko . I enjoyed Secretary too - the acceptable face of RomCom. If only my boss was like that.

tv programme of the year - The Shield. The TV show Heartbeat could have been.

gig of the year - I must confess I only went to one gig this year which was British Sea Power . They were pretty good - and you got free Mint Cake.

event of the year - Thora Hird sticks her Stanna on the stairway to heaven.

non-event of the year - Corries 'gay' story. I can't be the only person who'd love to see Adam Ricketts getting a bumrape.

website of the year - P&P Productions, of course.......Despite their frequent spelling mistakes and use of Capital Letters For Every Fucking Word (what was your degree in again John?)

person of the year - Comedy villain Richard Hillman. The You & Me Song isn't what I'd choose to soundtrack my own killing spree but anyone who removes Tracy Shaw's boney anorexic arse from my screen is OK by me.

book of the year - Quimby the Mouse , funny AND depressing, what more could you want. (I have to say thanks to you John for this)

sporting event of the year - Carlisle's one win of the season. Good move getting rid of Roddy too. Jesus Christ, they'll be playing Fleetwood soon if they're not careful.



Sam Beckwith

album of the year: Either The Violet Hour by The Clientele or It Takes a Nation of Tossers by Pitman

film of the year: American Splendor

single of the year: "Crabstycks Theme" by The Crabstycks.


gig of the year : The Flaming Lips, Palac Akropolis, Prague

sporting event of the year: Rochdale knocking Coventry out of the FA Cup.

Ian Thorp

album of the year - Eels - Shootenanny! - all class

single of the year- Molotov -El Frijolero - Mexican punk


film of the year - Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind [2002] mind or Kodak Gold ASA400


tv programme of the year - Anything on a different channel when Pop Idol's on.


gig of the year - Saturday night at the Marillion convention


event of the year - I quite like the Edinburgh tattoo


website of the year - oh Lordy http://www.localadultfun.co.uk/lancashire-swingers/sex-contacts-bispham.html


Person of the year- Colonel Saunders


book of the year - Film - Sean Condon


sporting event of the year - The Grand Prix's being better

John Crewdson

album of the year: Grandaddy Sumday

gig of the year: Polyphonic Spree - i know i said Radiohead had some jaw dropping moments, but they also had a few dull ones. The Spree was jaw dropping from start to finish.

film of the year: Kill Bill

tv programme of the yea State Of Play -John Simm's Gripping Drama

single of the year-: Either 'Got You in My Dream, by Frenchy Barth (I've only heard it twice on the radio but its 'kin ace; buy on sight). Bandages by Hot Hot Heat or Shopliftin' Gabba by Shitmat.


website of the year www.golfharris.com (of course).



Paul Burke


album of the year - Bruce Lietzke - Golf Harris, so good they should prescribe it as an anti depressant, but then again I'm biased.


single of the year - Crazy in Love - Beyonce


film of the year - Amelie i know it's from 2001 but it's still the best film I've seen all year, also 'igby goes down' no not porn, but a comedy so dark it was probably conceived in a power cut, like the The Royal Tenenbaums or 'The Catcher in the Rye' brilliant.


gig of the year- half man half biscuit they came on and i started smiling, finished smiling 3 days later, great fun.


event of the year- norman jay - good times at the Notting hill carnival - 1500 people dancing in the streets, did exactly what it said on the tin.


Person of the year- Clive Woodward, masterminded one over on the Aussies, got to love him for that.




Patrick Kagoul


album of the year- Glass Onion: The Songs of the Beatles - from the Altantic and Warner Jazz vaults, Ella, Aretha, Little Richard and even Bill Cosby, yes that Cosby tackle some of the best songs ever in a funky stylie.


single of the year- Bandages - Hot, Hot, Heat, still singing it now, perfect pop.


film of the year- City of God, was this 2003? dunno but loved it the Brazillian Goodfellas, well more like Once upon a time in Brazil!


gig of the year: - Frank Black, the fat blokes still got it.


event of the year- the Rugby World cup, started not bothered about rugby finished lovin it.


Kid Kordial


album of the year - Has to be Glass Onion: - Beatles covers in funk and jazz style, what more could you want?


single of the year- are you ready for John? - Elton. Made himself cool and hated it at first but at carnival couldn't get enough of it. Weird.


film of the year- Welcome to Collinwood - well funny check it out.


gig of the year - 'OH' at the White Horse in Brixton in March the Brothers Doc having it supersized. le belgique anyone?


event of the year - Heptathlon.


Person of the year- - Norman Jay MBE




Justin Sparkle

album of the year -Strays - Janes Addiction


single of the year-Hey Ya - Outkast and the best video too!


gig of the year - Janes Addiction on Halloween


event of the year - Rugby world cup!

Doc's Domain December 2003


A saint in Sainsbury`s!
My dear, dear people of the Pitch & Puttness, where do I start this months column, at the beginning I guess! Many of you have been in this position before I assume, it's nearing the months end, pasta and carrots for breakfast, lunch and dinner! The only bit of cash you have left is a couple of coins that you want to keep hold of in case the heating gets cut off and you need the coins to vigorously rub together to create fire!

Exaggerations I know, but you kind of understand where I'm coming from, I bet some of you even start smoking roll ups around the 15th/16th of each month? The main reason being,
I'm a fool with money, always have been always will be! But then again I have to spend all my $`s on records to ensure you people have a good time...all the time!

On Saturday evening I strolled down to my local Sainsbury`s knowing full well I had minus money in my back account, took the old cheque book(remember those) with me just in case.
My cupboards were bare and they needing a little filling with the basic essentials!
My items having been zapped, I'm standing at the checkout with a facial _expression that's saying "hello, I've got no money and my card's not going to work!"
The lovely Sainsbury`s lady tells me how much my 10 items or less costs and I hand over my card. She swipes, waits and then says "hello, you've got no money and your card's not going to work!"

Anyway, I pop, punch her in the face and smash everything into a million pieces, Not really, my face burns with embarrassment and I ask if I can pay by cheque?
No, is the answer but for some unknown reason I still write the amount on the cheque!!
So there I am, at the head of an ever growing queue, holding up the whole of Hackney when all of a sudden the guy who has been patiently waiting behind me pipes up(I don't mean in a crackney Hackney sense) and says "there's nothing worse than doing your shopping and not being able to take it home with you" and suggests that I write the cheque out in his name!

Now I'm totally knocked for six with this strangers generosity, but I agree to this rather quickly, I've never known such supermarket heroics!
I can't be bothered to tell you anymore, in a nutshell Mr Robert Keefe saved my bacon and then proceeded to pay for it!
Arise Sir Robert Keefe...we owe you!

Since I was last in your face things have been going well for this slip of a boy!
November 1st saw me back on my old stamping ground at the Trafalgar Tavern down there in "historical" Greenwich, boy, what a night!
Over 200 people bouncing of the walls to some big, big tunes. It was a great feeling playing there and seeing so many old faces unifying to funk under the one roof. The gig went so well that, after one party, I have been booked for the first Saturday of each month for the whole of next year...fierce!

If you're in the area get down there on Saturday 6th December for another crate digging set from yours truly.

Big tunes from recent sets!

WHODINI-THE FREAKS COME OUT. (STILL DOING IT AFTER MORE THAN 20 YEARS, BACK WHEN ELECTRO WAS ELECTRO.)

RED ASTAIRE-FOLLOW ME. ( WICKED USE OF D`ANGELO LYRIC THAT JUST CREEPS UP AND RIPS THE SKIN OF YOUR FACE.)

DR. RUBBERFUNK-BOSSA FOR THE DEVIL. (DOES EXACTLY WHAT IT SAY`S ON THE TIN.)

THE CHI-LITES-ARE YOU MY WOMAN. (ORIGINAL BREAK LIFTED BY THAT FAT BIRD FROM DESTINY`S CHILD FOR HER MASSIVE SUMMER ANTHEM.)

CHIC-CHIC CHEER. (SAMPLE USED TO BRILLIANT EFFECT BY FATMAN SCOOP...HUGE.)

OLIVER CHEATHAM-GET DOWN SATURDAY NIGHT. (C`MON NOW, I DO PLAY ON A SATURDAY NIGHT AND PEOPLE GET DOWN, WE MAY KNOW THIS FROM A CERTAIN DEODORANT ADVERT...I LIKE TO PARTY?)

TEDDY PENDERGRASS-I DON`T LOVE YOU...(RARE GROOVE CLASSIC, REALLY DOING IT.)

HAROLD MELVIN & THE BLUENOTES-THE LOVE I LOST. (WICKED BREAK THAT OUTWEIGHS THE GRIM MESSAGE .)

THE JACKSON SISTERS- I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES. (WOW! ONLY NEEDS ONE WORD!)

SISTER SLEDGE-HE`S THE GREATEST DANCER. (MORE CHIC MAGIC.)

If you like what you read then get yourself down to The Trafalgar Tavern, Greenwich, London on 6th December, 10pm-2am.
&
Grand Central, Great Eastern Street, London on Saturday 13th December, 8pm-12am.

There's fun to be had by one and all, let's rock into Christmas and party until the bells end.

Laters funkerteers.

Patrick Kagoul Notes from the Frontline Part 2

"All I want for Christmas is some masculinity"

……is some masculinity".
I'm scared. Yesterday I found myself at work in the middle of a conversation, well two people were talking to each other with me sat in the middle, involved, but not really contributing. The thing that made me scared was that I understood the conversation fully.
I went away slightly worried only to find later in the evening that the problem was getting worse. Much worse.

The position I found myself in could be the greatest highlight of 'what was going wrong' possible. Alanis Morissette take note, this is what irony really is.

The conversation had been about 'spinning classes' and their benefits, and the different types of celebrity magazines available. Do you know what they are? If you're a girl then the chances are that you do, if you're a boy then the chances should be that you don't. Why would you? And more to the point why do I?
Here's the start of my excuses. I lived with a girl that I really loved, so as a result I actually listened to what she said and cared, rather than making the appropriate noises at the appropriate places. I was interested.

This is nice and caring and I think a good thing. However the flip side of this is that I now know about 'spinning classes' soft furnishings and a whole load of things that to be honest I shouldn't have in my head. I'm pretty convinced that there's only a certain amount of room for knowledge retention in my head and I'm scared as to what is now gone. Probably something masculine, I probably have no idea how to reverse in to a parking space or work a drill.

I went home, slightly worried and knackered, it being a Monday, sat down and too tired to be bothered to do much decided to watch some easy TV. Now here I can make no excuses, I type with one hand raised in admission of blame. There was nothing on, absolutely nothing, I tried a film but it was rubbish so I gave up. I scanned the listings. Repeatedly. I have Sky with all the channels so this was making it worse, how with so much to choose from could there be so little to watch?

So I… watched Friends.
Where had it all gone so wrong? I blamed Sky, I blamed the fact that it fitted in an inoffensive slot in the television scheduling that no one else was bothering to fill. I blamed the fact that I was too tired to switch off my television set and go out and do something less boring instead.
Drinking probably. I had always managed to do this as a child, especially when a bunch of spotty kids came on the television live from some hut in Belfast where they tried to cajole me into turning practical products into rubbish and so forth, so why not as an adult?

I don't know. And here's the pay off. The episode dealt with the male characters becoming too girly by flower arranging and having a female room mate, all with hilarious consequences.
Hilarious to them maybe, but not to me.

Having 'Friends' of all programmes highlighting this fact is too much to bare.

Now maybe I'm over reacting, maybe knowing these things makes me a better person, more rounded. I don't know. My natural instinct says 'no, this is bad'. I feel that, well I feel like I should immediately start drinking, watch some sport, preferably boxing, and then maybe go out and have a fight, come home and make something useful with power tools. Maybe a spot of hunting and / or gathering.
Is this normal? I don't know.

I wanted to discuss with my flat mate immediately, unfortunately he was studying. I was pretty certain he'd know what to do. Neither of us ever get in too much trouble, but I'd say that both of us can drink a fair amount and would both be fairly useful if we were in a situation of a fight. He'd know what to do. No one who'd watch 'Clockwork Orange'' that many times could fall foul of this. I waited till he finally emerged from his studying.

'Is there anything on the telly? Any Friends on?'

If you want me I'll be in the pub. Starting a fight.


Patrick Kagoul.
Soon to be Patty Kagoul.

John Crewdson Esq. Part 2- 'We're All Going To Die'.

I was planning to tell you all about my plans to murder my neighbours this month ( the Welsh Terror I mentioned last time), about my plans to superglue the locks on their doors and watch them slowly starve to death, or to break into their loft via mine and drip poison into their sleeping mouths (ala 'Grosse Pointe Blank').

Instead I'm going to tell you about two rather unpleasant experiences I've had of late. The first one involves a random act of violence inflicted upon myself by a total stranger (who I'll refer to as 'The Cunt'). I had been out in Blackpool with my Golf Harris colleague Paul, watching a rather good band whose name escapes me ( 'Kasino 76' or something), I was rather drunk and had decided to get some fried 'chicken' prior to getting a taxi back home. I was alone, Paul having decided to leave earlier on, munching on my food when all of a sudden some bloke ran up to me and punched me in the face! Was this some disgruntled Syd Barrett fan, annoyed at the Hirundu's version of 'Bike' recorded some 15 years previous? Or a militant vegetarian protesting at my choice of late night snack? No. It was A Cunt. One of the thousands of Cunts who come to Blackpool every year, get pissed, fail to pull and resort to punching people for no reason what so ever. The suddenness of the blow left me stunned for a moment, until I realised I now had a mouth full of blood instead of chicken, and had one front tooth missing. The Cunt had run off before I knew what had happened.

Incandescent with rage and spewing Claret l resolved to phone the police immediately. I stumbled into a near by Chinese restaurant with the intention of using their phone but a waiter turned me away, my blood spattered appearance no doubt putting the customers off their Foo Yung. I called the cops from a nearby public phone and they arrived promptly. They had no intention of going after my assailant despite my pleas that we tracked him down like a dog and dished out some 'frontier justice'. My missing tooth was nowhere to be found despite the trail of blood and the only conclusion was that I'd swallowed it, (and I never did find it 'out the other end').

This wasn't the first time I'd been set upon by 'holiday makers', the year before I got my jaw broken by some Jocks for no reason at all. That's the nature of Blackpool these days. Anyone thinking of coming next year be warned, this is a violent violent place and the cops do fuck all. So DON'T COME HERE. Go abroad. I lived in north London for 5 years, in an area rife with crack dealers, shootings and murders, but not once did I get into a fight, nor even an argument. As soon as I returned up North, a broken jaw and a missing tooth in the space of 18 months. Maybe I've got a face worth punching, or maybe this town just attracts Cunts.


Any way enough of the self-pity; apart from nearly getting killed coming back from Newcastle. We'd been to see Radiohead play live (see the music section). 'We' being most of Sinister Footwear and friends. It was a Sunday night and we left Newcastle at about midnight. We where returning to Blackpool via the scenic but treacherous A67, which cuts nearly an hour off the journey time if you take the motorway. All was going well until we got past Kirkby Stephen and then - Fog. Thick pea soupy Fog. Visibility was down to zero. We managed to get onto the motorway and then things got serious. Looking out of the front window there was nothing to be seen; only the faint glow of a cats eye on the road in front. We laughed about it at first, but them we realised we where driving on the motorway completely blind. That's when I noticed the icy chill in my bones and the sick feeling deep in my guts. We all realised that there was a very very real possibility that we could all be killed at any moment. Anything coming behind us (a huge container lorry for instance) wouldn't see us till it was too late and could plough straight into us wiping us all out in an instant. We had no idea what we where driving into. We couldn't stop, or pull over, because we had no idea where the side of the road was.

For the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to face death. Then, as quickly as it had appeared the fog vanished, much to our relief. That's when we realised we where heading the wrong way. We were going north towards Penrith, and not south towards home. Sweet home. So we had to turn round and go back into the mist, and re-live the nightmare all over again.

Now I know people drive through thick fog all the time, and compared to an emergency landing in an aeroplane, or being on a sinking ship, or being kidnapped by terrorist this was a minor incident, but I personally have never experienced those things. What I have experienced is blind panic and sickening terror first hand. A big thank you goes out to Adam Scholes, Sinister Footwear's keyboard player for getting us all back in one piece.
Mind how you go.

Pitch & Putt Debate

Welcome to the first national Pitch & Putt Debate. In the Red corner: Pitch & Putt Man Of The People, Jamie 'Citizen' Bell, in the Blue corner: The Harbinger -Voice Of The Establishment. Jimmy Doc, Patrick Kagoul and The Editor stick their two-penneth in too. Ding Ding Round One…..
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this debate are those of the contributors and not those of Pitch and Putt Magazine. If any one is offended then we apologise and would like to suggest that you stop being so fucking soft and deal with the issues in your own life before complaining.


J Bell:
Steaming in for a late shot at Pitch & Putt person of the year, I would like to
say that Benjamin Zephaniah is the one. For not only refusing the OBE,
but by going public with his reasons he's struck a blow for humanity at
last in this god-forsaken land. His principled stance is an example to
us all and the tragic death of his cousin (whilst in Police "custody")
needs to be investigated and the perpetrators brought to justice. Also,
to the person who thought to nominate him, are you really stupid enough
to think that you could buy this man's silence by giving a colonial
award? And what possessed you to nominate him the first place when you
know damn well his political outlook and his recent campaigns against
the Iraq 'War'? The words red flag and bull spring to mind.
Benjamin Zephaniah - P&P Person of the Year.




The Harbinger:
To refuse the 'Order', is an act of stupid stupid folly. The interiors
of Buckingham Palace are an absolute treat. Wonderful state rooms and
regency opulence. The whole ceremony is a wonderful affirmation of what
it is to be part of the British Establishment. To be Benjamin Zephaniah
OBE is to no longer be the oppressed, but the oppressor. He can keep
slaves, and no longer be one.

And the Queen often does the ceremony bra-less.


Jim Doc:
I vote for Gerry Adams & Martin McGuiness, one looks like a geography teacher and the other like a clown without the make-up!

J Bell:

Betty bra-less? Urrrghhhhhh perish the thought. I'll bet that pose is on
page 3 everyday for the Scum-readers in Hell. As for an act of folly,
well all I can say to that is, to quote the man himself: "The award is
a colonial thing that reminds of the enslavement of my fore-fathers and
the mass rapes of women throughout those times. To accept it is to
embrace and legitimise slavery and I refuse to do that."


The Harbinger:
MBE's legitimise mass-rapes. OBE's do not. Let's just get that clear.

J Bell:

This is just a sober reflection of the FACT that manycities in this country (especially Bristol, Liverpool, Manchester, Preston,Carlisle and Glasgow) all benefited heavily from the slave trade. To ignore this is a classic example of the selective history that the powers that be want us lessermortals to engage in. So long as we continue with this Emu-history, we will never truly understand why every country enjoys beating us at anything, more than they enjoy victories over other countries, and why they hate us so much. The
monarchy is a throw back to these "good old days" of colonialism when "Britain ruled the world"and I for one feel totally sickened by it all. The sooner we put them up forinternational auction to the highest bidder the better. Then perhaps we might make
some money from them for a change.

The Harbinger:
Get a CBE and you can pillage, park in disabled spaces, actively
enslave
people and sell them. But an OBE is fine. He should stop being such a
joyless party-pooper.

Patrick Kagoul:
Where's your sense of national pride, fuck me you're talking like a bloody foreigner. That's not the attitude that saved our boys in ww2 at Dunkirk when the Hun was marauding his way through Europe. Look what happens when we let countries rule themselves, America, Australia they're like unruly teenagers who need to still be controlled by their strict parents.
It's in the past let it go.


J Bell:

If you're trying to engage my national pride, you'll have a long wait coz I don't have any. I had no say whatsoever about where my parents decided to fornicate and as I am a direct result of that being in England, I guess that makes me English, along with all the meatheads and BNP members with whom I wish to completely disassociate myself from. I see myself as a human being and nationality as a fraud and a sham. To be proud of one's 'nation' is exactly how big brother wants me to behave, so to that I say swivel. I'll make it up as I go along.



The Editor (Has The Final Word):

I saw a letter in the Radio Times the other week, praising the current crop of 'war time' related programs and documentaries -the writer said it was good to see programs about 'heroes' instead of the young 'hooligans' who appear on programmes like 'Big Brother'.
Hmmm. And that's the generation that made abortions and homosexuality illegal and gave us Apartheid, Nazism, Communism, and the Bomb.

Hooligans?





Update 29.11.2003

Clare Gibb:

Whilst we are on the subject of fact and selective history, Mr Bell, a few notes:

·The African tribes were trading slaves with each other long before the white man set foot in sub-Saharan Africa. I put it to you that Mr Zephaniah is being selective with his history. This does not abnegate the British from entering into the slave trade, but equally, it cannot be argued that we were the ones to start it.

· Leaving aside the rights and wrongs of colonialism, of all the colonialists, the British were by far and away the best. When we are asked to leave we generally did. We left these countries with an infrastructure, a legal system and democracy. Compare that to the experience in the Belgian Congo, where the Belgians maimed and murdered their way out, or Algeria, where the French government actively went to war with its subjects and you will see my point.

· The fact that so many of our ex-colonies are keen to remain members of the Commonwealth does not smack of a hated nation. Where is the German Commonwealth? Where is the Belgian one? Our ex-colonies could easily tell us to bog off, and yet they have chosen not to. Indeed, it is seen as a punishment to be excluded, as is witnessed by Zimbabwe's expulsion thanks to that murdering, pillaging bastard Mugabe.

· Mr Zephaniah speaks of "the mass rapes of women throughout these times". Two notes: firstly, he does not offer any proof of his implicit assertion that it was the whites that did this; secondly, is he really arguing that the blacks would not countenance such a thing - because the Tutsis behaved impeccably towards the Hutus with great respect for life, freedom and liberty, didn't they?

· We got out of Africa because they asked us to go. They can't stand there whining because we don't go back and sort it out when they fuck it up. I have been to Kenya and it is an amazing country. There is hope there now, but the years of corruption under arap Moi were entirely the fault of the opposition parties who were just as corrupt. At some point people have to take responsibility for themselves. They fucked up. They must sort it out. Thankfully it looks like they may have in Kenya.

Mr Bell does have a point though. There are two aspects of the third world that, as human beings, we are in a position to and have a moral obligation to sort out. Rich first world countries should cancel the debt. Bush cancelled $25 million of debt, equivalent to one day's interest for the third world. A pretty poor effort I would say. Secondly, the first world governments need to start paying attention to the fact that HIV infection rates in sub-Saharan Africa are hitting the 90% mark.



Rant over. On the bright side, like the web page.

Patrick Kagoul Notes from the Frontline Part 1:"Cosmic Irony....."

For the first time in my life, without any trace of sarcasm, I uttered the words ' I want us to still be friends'. And what's more I meant it.
Unbeknown to me at the time this was a prompt for some force of universal, external, whatever you believe in, cosmic irony to start to royally take the piss. But what I didn't know is that it's like the musketeers (in a 'all for one, one for all' kind of way), as once you say those words- and mean it- it's a global free for all, with every person that you ever went out with comimg out of the woodwork and reappearing without warning or invite back into your life.

Now whether you believe in free will or determinism (and please return to your respective corners, I want a nice clean fight, no gouging, low blows or physiological questioning), this fact seems to me, when you examine the following evidence to be inexorable…

…I was on my way to the other side of the world when it first happened. Upset, heartbroken and leaving all forms of civilised culture behind - I was off to Australia -I had time to kill that drinking simply wouldn't do, so I checked my emails on a free terminal. And there it was, the first of them to appear out of the blue. Now whatever I say about this girl I have always admired her timing, and this was the piece-de-resistance.

After that the first breech it started to happen more. I was in Sydney in a bar being whatever the equivalent of the Australian Billy-no-mates is, (Bruce I guess), when I gate-crashed a conversation. The normal small talk ensued, asking where we each were from etc. only for me to recognise name of the place where one of the lads was from. When he questioned me as to how I knew this place I replied that I had gone out with a girl from there a long time ago, and had even visited it.
He asked her name…
…I asked how old he was…
…at least 5 years too young to have known her…
…he pressed the point…
…I said her name…
He went white - "That's my cousin".

Of course it is.

This to me doesn't seem like the norm. It seems like something is taking the piss. Now believe what you want, but it wasn't the only thing. Another separate ex-girlfriend, again through the joys of modern technology (oh how emails break down the barriers)…..mailed me telling me how she was in Melbourne. Coincidence? I think not. This is global stalking on an unprecedented scale.

Now this isn't always a bad thing, being a boy and like all boys I like things to be tied up; I don't like loose strings, I like endings. Most of us are brought up on sport and where there are endings: we have extra time, we have penalties, we have golden goals. We have the bell at the end of the round and one bloke standing and one bloke unconscious. We have finality. That's how we like it, most of us. Black. White. No grey. That's why I hate the ending of 'The Italian Job' (and NOT the re-make, bah). What is that 'plan' that he has? I want to know! I also hate the end to Rocky 3, when Rocky and Apollo go in for that 'friendly fight (surely an oxymoron?), as I want to see what happens, I want closure damn it. And here I am with far too much closure, more closure than I can swing a cat at, in fact once something re-opens can it be closed again?

I dunno.
It does give me the chance to atone in certain circumstances. I've missed this person a lot anyway, but some of the people are crap and that's why I didn't want to see them in the first place and now I'm stuck with some sort of virtual chat due to the effects of age and attempted politeness. Doh.

So here I am, and rounding up these random ramblings. The moral, I guess, is to be careful what you wish for as you may just get it.
Or is it?
I guess the real moral of the story is to make more of an effort to keep in touch with the people that you want to and not the ones you don't. As for all the moaning and the bizarre coincidences I'm still not in touch with the person I actually said it to, and that's the real piss take. - PK

Doc's Domain November 2003



As the cold snap sets in we can only watch in admiration as the summer sun that shone so brightly for us this year still fights to shine some more!
The many faces, both those I know and those I know not, that stepped in my line of vision through out the summer were bursting with smiles, happiness and sun blessed nirvana!
Whether it be Glastonbury, Notting Hill (Good times) or sitting in the park ala Georgie Fame, this summer proved to be one of the best of my life!
Joyous moments shared with long standing friends, future friends and loved ones, will be ones I cherish for time!

Soundtracks have proved an important part of this young fellas existence for some time now, because, after all, music is my sanctuary!
And at this juncture, please allow me to introduce myself. The height-5"10, the weight-10 stone and the name-Jim Doherty!
Why am I reading this I hear you say? Well, here is where you find out: Those quirky green keepers at Pitch & Putt Magazine have asked yours truly to pen a column for this site that you are now perusing.
This is as new to me as I'm sure I am to you, but I am willing and excited to have the opportunity to pass on some of my knowledge, views and general rhubarb to you, the most recent people to step up and tee off!

It is my duty to inform you of great nights out via the various club nights I DJ at around town, and, if you have a pocket full of change and want to purchase some blinding vinyl, hopefully I can recommend some of the floor fillers I've been spinning and various outlets where said floor fillers can be purchased.




Tunes Filling The Floor:
John Holt-Ali Baba
Marcia Griffiths-Feel Like Jumping
Black Harmony-Don`t Let It Go To Your Head
Benny Golson-I`m Always Dancing To The Beat
Archie Bell-Don`t Let Love Get You Down
The Crusaders-Street Life
Barbara Acklin-Am I The same girl
Gwen McCrea-All This Love That I`m Giving
James Mason-Sweet Power
The Jacksons-It`s Great To Be Here
Stevie Wonder-Sir Duke
Roy Ayers-Can`t You See Me
The O`Jays-I Love Music
Barry White-You`re The first, The Last...
Herbie Hancock-I Thought It Was You.

Golf Harris Bruce Lietzke (2003)





1. ropadope
2. cut me some flak
3. off the grog and on to the green
4. just like harry lambos
5. the day it rained on the moustache parade
6. unexpected german
7. not the only one
8. the happiest man on holloway
9. it's not you, it's me (it's you)
10. the fundraiser
11. the king
12. it'll be alright
all songs ©2003 pitch & putt records

Kid Kordial's Kompilations 1

Give Dem What They Need! "You hum it …..and I'll smash your face in!"
Jim Doc and Kid Kordial Fight 2 Da Def.


Fug - Cymande
I Believe In Miracles - Jackson Sisters
Gimme One Of Those - Brand New Heavies
I Thought It Was You - Herbie Hancock
Simply Everybody's Taking Cocaine - Murray Lachlan Young (Morcheeba)
Ooh Wee - Mark Ronson
Buddy - De La Soul
I Don't Know - Jaguar Wright
Vi Passar - Patricia Marx

A Little Deeper - Miss Dynamite
Senorita - Timberface
Who Am I - Beeni Man
Ready Or Not - Johnny Osbourne
Feel Like Jumping - Marcia Griffiths
Yo Yo Yo - The Beatnuts
Alphabet Aerobics - Balckalicious
Eye On The Gold Chain - Ugly Duckling
Melting Pot - Booker T And The M.G.'S
Loosetips - Seiji
Shake Whatcha Mama Gave Ya - Stick E & The Hoods
Ali Baba - John Holt
'Admit It!' - Spoken Word From The 'Wibling Rivalry' Interview / Argument - Oasis

John Crewdson Esq. Part 1- 'Wouldn't it Be Nice, To Get on With Me Neighbours'.

I think the house next door is cursed. Everyone who has lived there has gone insane.The first couple I shared cavity space with where very young and spent every night screaming at each other, and then breaking their own stuff. I should explain that the walls of my house are thinner than rice paper so at night I avoid walking in front of lamps, less the neighbours think I'm putting of some form of avant-garde shadow puppet show. As the old joke goes -" I Could Even Hear Them Changing Their Minds". So, one night, when I awoke to the usual shouts and bangs I was startled by a louder than usual crash. The bloke (well, more of a boy really), then shouted: "look what you've done - you made me kill your goldfish!" followed by the girl running out of the house screaming. She returned a few moments later and threw a brick through her own front window. At this point I phoned the police. They duly arrived and took the girl away for smashing the window, but failed to arrest the young lad for piscicide.
They moved out shortly after but, alas, the peace was short lived. The Welsh Terror was soon to arrive…..

Ricc Terranova pt1

Hello and welcome to the 1st and maybe last (depending on the fucking control freaks that the pitch and putt officers are), column by the only stateside (US that is) member of Golf Harris. Paul asked me to write a column based on what it's like being a member of a rock band in the US. My band is called Death Valley Murmurs. We are an eclectic bunch of musicians who decided it was time to fucking rock out in Des Moines. So, we did. We got a set list together, rehearsed like fuck and went for gigs. I should add, we are all accomplished musicians who can play our mother fucking instruments pretty fucking well. We are also led by a Spastic Pirate whom scares people with his manic, how shall I say.....shit. So we went to get some gigs. Some would say this should be an easy task. We have music, band, you have stage, you want band to play music and get people to drink. Hmmmmm - somehow this didn't happen. For some reason, an original band getting gigs in Des Moines is akin to
going to Debenhams and asking for a nice side of beef. Or an oil and filter change. Nevertheless, we persisted and got gigs at a
fucking shit spot called the Vaudeville Mews a "cabaret" joint in Des Moines (sorry, that fucking splits my side - they're trying to
be fucking upscale in Des Moines) that doesn't even do drink specials, caters to a sad fucking indie crowd of shoe-gazing cunts,
and doesn't give the band free booze without a fight.

Fuck that shit.


However, one good thing is that the club gets lots of fucking hot chicks that eat up fucking rock. All the indie boys are scared away
though. I nearly got in a fight with one cunt at a bar last week cos he was talking shit about our singer. He is a skinny little fuck called Dameon who thinks he's cool COs he has a Rasta cut and plays bass in a band called Aholic. They are, to be blunt, shit, I
was wishing Buzzer was there with me at one point. Not COs I was scared but I would have just laughed at the way Buzzer would have
twatted him. So we are continuing to rock Des Moines. We are getting good
reviews, no doubt. We are loud and proud that we fucking rock. I
have found the best drummer I have ever met, a guy named Jeremy Morse. He is fucking sweet on the drums. Anyway, does anyone want to know what I'm listening to? No, thought not - - - ---- well:
FUCK YOU ALL!!

Black Sabbath - Master of Reality
Black Label Society - Blessed Hell Ride
Led Zeppelin - How the west was won
Tool - Lateralus
Warrior Soul - Last Decade Dead Century
Wagner - Parsifal
Andrew Keeling - Quickening the Dead
My neighbours shit techno (not thru choice)

Oh - and if you want to check our shit out we're at
http://home.mchsi.com/~deathvalleymurmurs

What am I drinking??

Beck's Oktoberfest
London Pride
Jagermeister


Ok. Drunken recipe time. If you, by any chance, get back from the bar at 2 a.m. and are hungry but too broke for a take out, here is a simple recipe for pasta that will block your fucking guts till morning:

· get some pasta going
· get a fucking jar of pesto
· balance yourself on and between countertops in the fucking kitchen
· drain pasta once it's cooked
· dump in a spoonful of pesto
· stir it up
· serve
· watch some telly while eating
· kick the drunk bitch out once your guitarist has gotten his end away in your mates bathroom (props Paul)
· don't let the Dr. fuck a fat bitch in your bed
· go to bed

- RT

North West By Mid West : Ricc Terranova pt1

Hello and welcome to the 1st and maybe last (depending on the fucking control freaks that the pitch and putt officers are), column by the only stateside (US that is) member of Golf Harris. Paul asked me to write a column based on what it's like being a member of a rock band in the US. My band is called Death Valley Murmurs. We are an eclectic bunch of musicians who decided it was time to fucking rock out in Des Moines. So, we did. We got a set list together, rehearsed like fuck and went for gigs. I should add, we are all accomplished musicians who can play our mother fucking instruments pretty fucking well. We are also led by a Spastic Pirate whom scares people with his manic, how shall I say.....shit. So we went to get some gigs. Some would say this should be an easy task. We have music, band, you have stage, you want band to play music and get people to drink. Hmmmmm - somehow this didn't happen. For some reason, an original band getting gigs in Des Moines is akin to
going to Debenhams and asking for a nice side of beef. Or an oil and filter change. Nevertheless, we persisted and got gigs at a
fucking shit spot called the Vaudeville Mews a "cabaret" joint in Des Moines (sorry, that fucking splits my side - they're trying to
be fucking upscale in Des Moines) that doesn't even do drink specials, caters to a sad fucking indie crowd of shoe-gazing cunts,
and doesn't give the band free booze without a fight.

Fuck that shit.


However, one good thing is that the club gets lots of fucking hot chicks that eat up fucking rock. All the indie boys are scared away
though. I nearly got in a fight with one cunt at a bar last week cos he was talking shit about our singer. He is a skinny little fuck called Dameon who thinks he's cool COs he has a Rasta cut and plays bass in a band called Aholic. They are, to be blunt, shit, I
was wishing Buzzer was there with me at one point. Not COs I was scared but I would have just laughed at the way Buzzer would have
twatted him. So we are continuing to rock Des Moines. We are getting good
reviews, no doubt. We are loud and proud that we fucking rock. I
have found the best drummer I have ever met, a guy named Jeremy Morse. He is fucking sweet on the drums. Anyway, does anyone want to know what I'm listening to? No, thought not - - - ---- well:
FUCK YOU ALL!!

Black Sabbath - Master of Reality
Black Label Society - Blessed Hell Ride
Led Zeppelin - How the west was won
Tool - Lateralus
Warrior Soul - Last Decade Dead Century
Wagner - Parsifal
Andrew Keeling - Quickening the Dead
My neighbours shit techno (not thru choice)

Oh - and if you want to check our shit out we're at
http://home.mchsi.com/~deathvalleymurmurs

What am I drinking??

Beck's Oktoberfest
London Pride
Jagermeister


Ok. Drunken recipe time. If you, by any chance, get back from the bar at 2 a.m. and are hungry but too broke for a take out, here is a simple recipe for pasta that will block your fucking guts till morning:

· get some pasta going
· get a fucking jar of pesto
· balance yourself on and between countertops in the fucking kitchen
· drain pasta once it's cooked
· dump in a spoonful of pesto
· stir it up
· serve
· watch some telly while eating
· kick the drunk bitch out once your guitarist has gotten his end away in your mates bathroom (props Paul)
· don't let the Dr. fuck a fat bitch in your bed
· go to bed

- RT