A House Is Not A Hotel, But Hotels Can Sometimes Become Houses, You Filthy Developer Scum

We'd like to pretend that we'd been the recipient of absolutely hundreds of emails begging that we resume regular and witty posting urgently. Such missives are every blogger's dream, although they should not be courted too assiduously. But we didn't get any. Instead our Sitemeter went south. So here we are, with a mixed bag of housekeeping and half-formed observations.

First up, we have our most varied and unpleasant column yet up at Sugarzine. We also persuaded them to give us a link, so if you've come over from their site, and are part of their claimed thousands in readership, then hello. It's a pleasure to dump some even less well-formed opinions on you.

We've had a quite delicious time of late turning the phrase "50 Cent is a Republican stooge" over in our head. Courtesy of Mr Gilliard, we learn that Fitty is so desperate to contrive a beef with a more talented rapper that he'll stick up for the Bush clan while doing so. Well in response to the intelligent and fun to listen to Kanye "George Bush Don't Like Black People" West, he said :

"The New Orleans disaster was meant to happen. It was an act of God."

Which means that he has decided that it's time to go to war with someone other than those with better beats and voices than him, and kick it off with Him Upstairs. We can't wait to see the useless bastard running aimlessly through the streets of Jamaica, Queens (where he's from, and not the Bronx, Mr. Younge-clown), chased by every other rapper and the Almighty.

In other news, Prince Charles was seen in town and apart from catching the end of his appearance on 60 Minutes we might as well have been in Mongolia, for all of the relevance the event had to us. If neither Charles not his new hatchet-faced bride sees fit to impart anything of interest to us the general public, beyond what they had for dinner, they should probably be relegated to the back of the celebrity queue, or at least definitely behind TomKat.

Still, if they were to educate us more about ther personal causes, let's just pray that they would not spout off as poorly as poor Lemmy. Lemmy has recently decided to appear at the Welsh Assembly to tell kids not to take drugs. We shall let the Guardian's newsblog take over:

{Lemmy] got himself thrown out of one rock band (Hawkwind) for drug possession and started another (Motorhead) whose eponomous paean to amphetamine sulphate contained the lyrics "I should be tired / And all I am is wired". He drinks huge amounts of Jack Daniels, was introduced to LSD by his former employer Jimi Hendrix and this year told the Mirror he had a lifestyle that "would kill most people"

We've all know liberal Dads that say "a little bit of pot's OK, just leave it there. It'll make you very boring, the other ones will f*** you up a bit more." But a Dad that says "do what you like, just stay away from the skag" is one that only a ketamine dealer could admire. That said, we should probably be more harsh on the assembly member who brought him there, William Graham, than Lemmy. Lemmy will, we hope, be admirably consistent, but Graham has joined a dwindling band thought only to include Carnaby Street leather merchants these days, people who think Lemmy is a good advertisement for anything.

Right, time to hang with the mighty NIN. In the meantime, here's the me likey (sans mp3s):

The Living Things - Ahead Of The Lions. Yes, we were sceptical too. We had feared a weird combination of My Chemical Romance and Chumbawumba. Instead we get an only slightly overproduced, but very Australian-sounding rocking bunch of garage scuzz about injustice and war. We've never really been that into lyrics, but the music is like what you were hoping for after reading reviews of Jet, the Datsuns, The Vines, and all those other antipodean rock crews that couldn't quite walk the walk. Maybe the curse of the Saints is over. Not, we might add, that they're from Down Under.

The Forty-Fives - High Life High Volume. There's definitely room for a horntastic rock and rock band since Rocket From the Crypt split up. This lot might be pussies, but they have the surf thing down much better. We're undecided, but only in relative terms wary. In absolute terms you should be setting totalitarian hymns to this.

In the immortal words of Sympathy For The Record Industry, "You've sampled the rest, now f*** off".