Pitchfork:The Fall to Release 6xCD Peel Sessions Box On April 25, 50,000 people (give or take) will get even poorer when Sanctuary Records releases a six-disc collection of the Fall's sessions with John Peel. With performances starting from 1978 and continuing through 2004, the set will constitute as exhaustive and thorough a Fall collection as is currently on the market (lofty praise, given that the band has 25 studio albums and approximately 50 live and compilation albums floating around). The Fall: The Complete Peel Sessions 1978-2004 will bring together, as the title clearly implies, all 24 of the band's Peel Sessions, and will include a 30-page booklet with some insight into the recording sessions or, at the very least, some pretty pictures.
And get this: it will even include a Fall cover of Captain Beefhearts Beatle Bones 'N' Smokin' Stones .
BBC:Wolfowitz to spread neo-con gospel By nominating Paul Wolfowitz to be head of the World Bank, President George Bush appears to be sending a message to the world that he intends to spread into development policy the same neo-conservative philosophy that has led his foreign policy.
Neo-conservative, eh? That's new conservative. Now there's an oxymoron if ever I heard one. With the emphasis on the moron.
Fitz is always stealing my jokes and then accusing me of having stolen them off him, so, just for the record, here's a dead clever joke I just thought of, which he will now no doubt steal:
Q: Who started the Pedant's Revolt? A: Which Tyler!
No, Fanny Cradock wasn't some unsavoury medical condition which ran rampant throughout Scotland until the advent of penicillin. For those young whippersnappers amongst you who don't remember her, Fanny Cradock was one of the first in a long and continuing line of British TV celebrity cooks.
When people of a certain age reminisce about Fanny Cradock, the words harridan, battleaxe and snob slide effortlessly into the conversation, like a hot knife sliding into a lump of pâté de fois gras.
Fanny Cradock was also a terrible bully. She was a bully to her long-suffering on-screen (and, in later years, real-life) husband, Johnnie; she was a bully to her terrified assistant, Sarah; she was even a bully to us, her audience—which is probably why we watched her.
Fanny Cradock was certainly no Delia (although neither, it would seem, is Delia these days).
Anyway, I'm not here to give you a potted meaty biography of Fanny Cradock. If you'd like an extra helping, there's one somebody prepared earlier over in the Wikipedia. No, I'm here to talk about Fanny Cradock's other career: as a writer of historical fiction.
Actually, no I'm not. To be honest, I had absolutely no idea Fanny Cradock wrote novels until I came across one last month in, rather appropriately, an excellent little Italian restaurant. The restaurant had a shelf of second-hand books on sale (all proceeds to local charities). And there it was:
Cradock's magnum opus.
The Lormes of Castle Rising by Fanny Cradock
Intrigued, I read the bumf on the back cover:
The first in a remarkable saga charting the rise, decline and ultimate fall of a great family…
The Lormes of Castle Rising
A family of Norman origin who landed with the Conqueror, the Lormes were famed for their devoted allegiance to the crown. Despite the fluctuations and vicissitudes due largely to a persistent taint in the line, they weathered the centuries to reach their zenith during the Edwardian era.
The novel lovingly recaptures the serenity of the idyllic days when all was elegant above, and servile below, stairs. Sunday Times
Delicious reading. Daily Express
WINNER OF THE NATIONAL LISTENING LIBRARY AWARD
The Lormes of Castle Rising was 50p, but I simply had to have it.
But later, having bought the book, and having sobered up a bit, it occurred to me, no, why should I be the lucky owner of this undoubted masterpiece, when it is unlikely in the extreme that I shall ever read it? It just doesn't seem right. Far better that I give it away to a more discerning reader.
Which is where you come in—whoever you are.
You're reading Gruts. That makes you a discerning reader in anyone's book. How would you like a chance to win my personal copy of The Lormes of Castle Rising? Tempted? I can see you're salivating already.
Click the following link for details of how to enter this exciting competition:
My VHS player has just gone all surreal on me. Whenever I press the fast-forward button on my remote control, the words BOBINOGS GOING appear for two seconds across the bottom of the screen.
A quick Google search reveals that Bobinogs are some BBC Wales kids' educational thing. But my telly can't get Children's BBC, and it can't get BBC Wales, and, besides, I'm not even watching the telly.
What the hell is going on?
…Hang on! It's nothing to do with my VHS. It happens every time the channel switches to BBC2!
Irish comedian Dave Allen, famed for his TV routines as he perched on a stool with drink and cigarette in hand, has died in his sleep aged 68.
He was most famous for his TV shows Tonight With Dave Allen and Dave Allen at Large, which featured his satires on topics including religion.
Damn!
I'll never forget Dave Allen's routine about cars that make noises like their names (my dad drove a Triumph-umph-uuummmpppphhh! at the time), nor the one about anagrams of famous people's names (Ronald Regan = Da Lon' Ranger, and Dave Allen = Anal Delve). Anagrams have held a puerile fascination for me ever since. And then, of course, there was his poking fun at the pope. Come to think of it, Dave Allen was a hell of an influence on me.
But I think the most fitting (in Alfie Noakes's sense of the word) tribute came on the BBC's website:
BBC:Dave Allen: Your tributes …How fitting that we say goodbye to a funny, funny man on Red Nose Day. Thank you for making as [sic] laugh over so many years. Alfie Noakes, North of England, UK
Listen, Alfie Noakes (if that is your real name), the word you're looking for isn't fitting, it's ironic… Dave Allen: funny; Red Nose Day: not funny. Got it?
Postscript: Check out the comments to find out who Alfie Noakes really was.
BBC:Is beer less fattening than wine? …The sight of burly, whiskery men propping up the bar with a pint in one hand and a gravity-affirming paunch may conjure many descriptions, but "beautiful" is probably not one of them.
Oh piss off, you Bacardi™-and-Coke™-sipping tosser!
And, besides, as everyone should know by now (see tip 10 in my public service article, A Warm Welcome), no serious connoisseur of real ale would be caught dead propping up the bar.
Irish comedian Dave Allen, famed for his TV routines as he perched on a stool with drink and cigarette in hand, has died in his sleep aged 68.