concepts for a buntiful world
Saturday, February 14
Helping You - Dawn Primarolo - Labour MP for Bristol South
Helping You [or, if you work in the film industry watch British movies or take any pride or pleasure in the art that Britain produces, "Screwing You"] - Dawn Primarolo - Labour MP for Bristol South

Please, and I know that this, as all my "audience participation" efforts do will go unnoticed and undone, write to this lady explaining that we British rather like the British film industry and that by shooting it in the knees as she has done she is upsetting a great many people not least those who will lose their jobs because of it. I don't expect anyone who reads this to actually DO anything, but hey, its worth a try...probably.
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/14/2004 07:15:00 pm
Thursday, February 12
Lord of the Dance
The rhythms spiralled up and across the roof. The staccato of the drums ricocheted from the windows and blew holes in the smoke which filled the room. Steve sat there, watching the music enveloping people, the lilting guitars sneaking up their noses and dribbling out of their eyes, the bass that pounded the dancing woman’s hair as she span. Chords played percussive tattoos on the heads of people nodding. The gaps in the smoke were filled by burgeoning choruses and drooling blues drawling. He was caned, and by golly he knew it.

He knew fewer than half the people at this party, but he knew he liked them all. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise him to find that he liked everyone, everywhere. Steve was happy, his happiness filled the room, mixing with the music and blending with the other people’s happiness. There was one chap sitting by a dated but beautiful record player. He had been selected DJ and was sifting through the extensive record collection and pulling out the prime tunes. Steve felt he should know his name. The girl dancing, he knew her, she was…oh she was she really was. “Mmmm…” murmured Steve. He took a slug of his beer and thought about standing up. It didn’t seem like a good idea. A younger boy was holding forth about music in times of war to his left. Steve tuned in, the boy was right, it was amazing the good that music could do. “Why had no one thought of that before?” This thought echoed through Steve’s head. “Why had no one thought of that before?” he said and took another mouthful of beer. The girl opposite looked at him. She had heard “Wahanaan thoffugatafr.” She didn’t look impressed. The boy turned to Steve however. “That is exactly the point!” He preached. “People have, but nobody takes any notice cause they don’t believe them.” He looked sad. “We can’t prove it…” He tailed off shaking his head, then began explaining another thread. Steve wasn’t listening. He thought that the boy might have been one of the bar staff from earlier in the night, he couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure he didn’t know him. The girl opposite was good looking, but she still didn’t look impressed. Steve stood up.

Steve sat down abruptly. Standing up had not been a good idea, the music was louder up there and it wasn’t as relaxed either. He shook his head. A smokeable item was passed to him. He took a couple of drags and waved it vaguely in the air in front of him. The girl opposite took it from him “That is a cotton bud….freak.” She shook her head and put it out. Steve was passed another smokeable item. This one tasted better. He looked around. There was a haze of smoke obscuring his vision, everybody in the room seemed to be as large as usual but very far away, Steve smiled, it was nice this way. He smiled at the girl opposite him. She didn’t look impressed, he was sure she was someone important. She wasn’t his boss, because he was his own, and she wasn’t his girlfriend…or maybe…no she couldn’t be. Perhaps she was his mum…no…again, she couldn’t be. He shook his head, causing a small ripple effect to set up in his vision. He drank some more beer, and held his head very still. Steve found that if he held his head very still and kept his eyes focussed on one thing that his vision slowly went black and white, and then he began to go blind. This effect cleared as soon as he moved his eyes or his head, but it was fun. He stared at the nose of the girl opposite. When he moved his head again he found she had gone. “Loo…” mumbled someone next to him, “nose…” Steve felt a stab of guilt. He rammed his hand down the back of the sofa and removed a lit cigarette butt, so it hadn’t been guilt. He pushed his beer bottle under the sofa and gestured to someone near the fridge. No one took any notice.

He thought about attempting the journey to the fridge. It was at least six foot across hostile territory. Steve wasn’t entirely sure that the rug was hostile, but it looked fairly menacing from where he was sitting. On the other hand the fridge had beer, and beer was good. Steve thought he would be ok, able to talk a little more coherently if he had another beer. He pushed himself off the sofa and landed on his knees. He began the long trek across the rug. The colours underneath his face swum and curled around each other, pulsating slightly with the rhythm. Steve looked up. All he could see was the crotch of some jeans. He craned his neck and found a belly. It wasn’t a nasty belly, not the kind with which the word beer is associated, it was the nice smooth belly of a lady. Steve craned his head further back and pulled himself more upright on the back of a chair that was positioned handily to his right. The belly belonged to the girl from earlier. She looked pissed. Not in the alcohol sense.

“You bastard, I thought something was wrong with my nose.” Her hand descended sharply across Steve’s forehead. He collapsed to the floor and the girl strode off. Steve thought about abandoning his quest, but found that his left hand was being rhythmically trodden on my one of the people dancing. They didn’t seem to notice but news of the pain was gradually filtering back into his head and his head was not enjoying the sensation. Steve grabbed his hand back from the dance floor.

”Whadyagaadathafaa. Huck!” he pronounced solemnly. “Shit” he thought. Caned hiccups were not Steve’s favourite things. He gritted his teeth, beer would solve the hiccups, if he drank it upside down.


Steve doggedly resumed crawling, dodging the smoke and ducking through the undergrowth of people.


He felt his hair ruffled by at least one of the people above him. He hoped it was one of the girls. He was nearly there, the fridge loomed big above him, towering in its whiteness through the gloom of the otherwise dark room.


Steve collapsed against the fridge door. Slowly he rolled off to one side and dragged the door open. Light flooded out onto his face and glinted through the green of the bottles. He smiled with relief and reached up to take one.

Someone else reached in and took the beer he was aiming for. Steve looked up just in time to get the bottle top in his eye.

”Owwwwhuck!” He looked up again, eye watering.

“Sorry about that mate” said the someone. I thought you might need help opening that. Steve felt the cool bottle being pushed into his hand. He nodded gratefully and slumped a little further upright. He couldn’t see the face of the newcomer, just a shadow blocking the light. Steve was glad he was blocking the light, as his eye still felt sore, and he thought that exposure to the amount of watts emanating from the dance lights probably wasn’t what he needed.

“So, you know these lot?” said the figure.

Steve shook his head, then nodded, then just concentrated on the beer. He wanted a cigarette.

“Jogaafaah…seegaartts,” he tried. He felt a lit cigarette pushed into his free hand. Steve nodded his thanks again. His head felt better, but he still felt as if there was something impeding his usual function. He shook his head, it didn’t work this time either. He dragged on the cigarette and went back under. There would be no clearing this veil for the time being.

“Not feeling too good?” the figure enquired solicitously.

Steve didn’t quite know how to reply to this one. The correct reply would have been, “Well actually, despite being under the influence of no fewer than six drugs, four of them illegal, at this present moment in time, despite my head swimming and my body shaking slightly, despite the knowledge that in about eight hours I will be swearing off all drugs for all time and vowing never to do this to my body again I feel fucking amazing. P.S and that isn’t the drugs talking, look closely, I’m here underneath all the chemical layers, and I am really really enjoying myself being alone, properly alone inside my head for the first time in I don’t know how long.”

He shook his head and tried very hard to enunciate, “No, mmokey…reeyfeeeygaa.”

“mate maybe you should slow up on the beer.” Steve clutched his bottle protectively.

The figure stood and stretched. Steve caught a glimpse of his face, beardy and kind. He didn’t look too wasted, although Steve thought he could see some space behind his eyes. Steve looked down and remembered the cigarette. He picked it up from the floor where it had burned a sizeable hole in the carpet and started smoking it again.

The figure sat down again. “I like to see everyone having a good time here once in a while.”

Steve nodded, he smiled, his hiccups had “Huck!” He lapsed back into silence. He decided no matter the cost, it probably wasn’t worth attempting to drink the beer upside down at this particular juncture.

“Too much of the time here is spent complaining about what a shit-hole it is man.”

Steve agreed, he liked Manchester, despite the rain.

“Fuck the rain man, can’t you see the bigger picture? The weather is not the problem. It would be a better place if people thought it was a better place.”

Positive thinking, Steve liked that. He thought hard about being given another cigarette. The figure leant over and placed a lit one in his mouth. Steve almost wept with pleasure.

“That’s right mate, enjoy yourself while you can. Where do you think you are going afterwards?”

Steve had been planning on going home, but if this guy had a better suggestion…maybe somewhere that did breakfast, a big fried breakfast. Steve had to concentrate on his beer to stop from salivating.

“If people thought this was a better place they would behave better and then it would be a better place. No killing or violence…that sort of stuff.”

Steve nodded again. It felt like he had been doing nothing but nodding for hours. He agreed but his head was tired. He tried giving the thumbs up.

“I mean what do you think? Do you think there is anything after this? Do you think there should be? And should we take everyone?”

Steve gave a shaky thumbs up. Concentrating was beginning to take its toll.


He swore in his head. He didn’t know whether everyone would want to come, he wasn’t convinced his guy had a place in mind and he really hated hiccups. The guy put his hand on Steve’s forehead, it felt pretty good there, although it blocked his vision.

“That should get rid of them. It’s all about not thinking abut them.”

Steve didn’t know what the guy was talking about. He took a big drag from the cigarette. The guy was still talking.

“I mean, I got no problem with a bit of reefer, nor with any other drugs. I don’t like the guys who sell the shit, but that isn’t really my business. The gay scene is pretty cool too. Canal street is usually full of people having a good time and being nice to each other. The service is pretty shitty though. I prefer house parties, kind of like this one. You can help yourself to the beer and it doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know anyone.”

Steve frowned. Maybe this guy was an interloper. They were all so wasted that he could be some random who had just got in the taxi with them. Still, he seemed ok, and he didn’t seem to be drinking so he was welcome. Maybe he was someone’s designated driver.

“I get upset by the people who go round hurting other people. That just isn’t pleasant. Especially if they involve me in it. I want no part in violence.”

Steve could see the fire behind the figures words. He was a big guy, and if he didn’t want any violence then Steve was sure that it was safer not to want any either.

“I have been…” the figure paused to choose his words, “a bit over the top sometimes, and recently, well maybe I’ve let things slide to compensate. But the most important part is that what I did before I’m sorry for, and I can see that it was inappropriate. Maybe not at the time but…” He tailed off arguing with himself.

Steve looked at his hands. He could be talking to some guy who just got out of jail, some murderer or rapist or something. He didn’t feel so good any more. He took a last drag on the cigarette and flicked it out of the patio doors. He hadn’t noticed that they were open and it was possible that the stranger had come in through them. Steve tried hard to remember if he was a stranger. Maybe it was him, Steve who had crashed this party, maybe it was he who was the murderer…no…don’t be stupid.

He looked out of the doors across the lawn. Grass always looked so much cooler from an ants eye perspective, like a forest covered with tiny icicles. It was frosty out, and Steve could feel the chill, but it was refreshing after the heat of the room. He could hear the thumping of the beat but was unable to really make out a tune. The sky was clear and he could see a star, rare for Manchester. The breeze smelt vaguely of curry. Steve remembered the curry he had eaten last night. It had been a good curry. The night had been worth doing. He felt closer to all his friends, provided that was them dancing away in his peripheral vision.

The figure returned. “That girl is really not pleased with you. Did you say something about her nose?”

Steve shook his head, concentrating on the breeze.

“She seems mighty het up for someone who hasn’t been insulted.” The figure prodded.

Steve shook his head. He didn’t remember insulting the girl, and from what he had seen of her she was pretty. He felt he was unlikely to have insulted her, and incapable of explaining anything to anyone at this present moment in time. He could see the cat picking its way across the garden. It seemed to dislike walking on the grass.

“Ah well, I don’t think you did it intentionally even if you did. That’s one of the problems with drugs I suppose,“ went off the figure, “You can’t really be held responsible for your actions, only for taking the drug in the first place.”

Steve wasn’t listening, he was watching the cat stalk something it had caught sight of near the bins.

“…but what about drugs that are produced within the human system. Maybe they were a mistake?” the figure paused, but Steve was still lost in the game that was being played out in the garden jungle. “I mean, the endorphins released by power, or the chemicals that wind aggression up tighter and tighter. Maybe they are too much for you guys.”

Steve could see the cat tauten its body, ready to pounce. He felt a vicarious fear running down his back.

“Maybe they could be cut with something. I wonder if there is anything that you could cut them with. I know people cut heroin with battery acid.” He paused, “That can’t be good for you. But it’s a good engineering problem. He took out a notebook and began patting his pockets for a pen.

Steve had no idea how anyone could write anything at this time of night. He was exhausted. The cat had pounced and Steve had nearly shouted out with excitement but the cat had missed and after scrabbling around furiously for a moment or two had resumed its vigil on the fence. Steve had directed his attention back inside and caught the end of this last soliloquy.

“and it isn’t as if people are paying for them anyway, so they could hardly complain about having them cut.” Pointed out the figure, trying to justify something. Steve nodded. “but then again there are people who enjoy them and use them recreationally, without causing any harm.” The figure looked at Steve. “The government would just ban them, if a minority spoils it for a majority then no one can have it. Doesn’t seem fair really.” He shook his head, “plus none of them would want their jobs any more then. Hah!”

Steve didn’t know what the figure had concluded but he watched as he wandered off, looking pleased with himself. The figure stopped by the girl and whispered something into her ear. Steve couldn’t make it out. The girl looked right at him and he looked away guiltily. The figure pointed back in his direction and continued out of the room.

The girl came over. Steve tried to explain himself.


The girl sat down next to him, unimpressed, she pulled him upright and looked him in the eyes. She was, as he had remembered, very good looking.
“Who the hell is that guy?” She pointed back in the direction she had come from. Steve couldn’t answer, he raised his eyebrows and tried to shrug.

“Hmm. I didn’t think you could speak coherently.” The girl raised her eyebrows more dexterously than Steve had managed to.

“Ey..caa ree…thgewaa…dno” Steve attempted.

“He says he had a conversation with you. How, I don’t know, as you still seem incapable of speech.” The girl dumped him back onto the floor. She looked around. “Where did he go?” Steve shrugged.

“He said you didn’t mean offence about my nose. I apologise for hitting you but I want an explanation for your staring at me.”

Steve started, “Wenaa..nose…blawht..look...” he waved his finger in front of his eyes. The girl held up her hand.

“Not now, I know you can’t speak. Shut up and go to sleep. We are all crashing out now anyway.”

Steve nodded and finished his beer. He found a cigarette behind his ear and put it in his mouth. The girl leant forward and lit it for him. He looked out of the door. The sun had begun to come up over Moss-side. He smiled and dragged deeply on the cigarette. It was going to be a good day.

- posted by Buntifer @ 2/12/2004 11:01:00 am
Thursday, February 5
Your Personal UK Movie Rating
Your Personal UK Movie Rating

My life has been rated:
Click to find out your rating!
See what your rating is!

- posted by Buntifer @ 2/05/2004 09:32:00 am
Cyber-Satan Weblog
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/05/2004 09:19:00 am
Tuesday, February 3
The Second Law of Thermodynamics Sooner or later, everything turns to shit.
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/03/2004 11:07:00 am
34.91124% - Total Geek
and proud of it.
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/03/2004 09:26:00 am
Monday, February 2
Sorry for the tides of doom I seem to have been posting recently.
I'm not saying I feel any different but this is neither the forum nor the audience to moan. I'm not promising not to moan any more, because it is tempting and a reasonably effective outlet for the irritation that the gross stupidity I encounter whips up in me.

However on the subject of e-bay scams I helped a co-worker this morning who was proposing to pay 62 quid for a playstation 2. Good value? Yeah, although if he had read the product description he would have noticed the text reading "you are bidding for information only"

The gimmick was that for a sum, whatever was bid, the person selling would provide an email detailing a website where PS2s were available for £20. Now if this were true it might be worht paying a lot of money for, but if this person know of this website, how come he isn't paying £20 for the PS2s and selling them for the hundreds they fetch on ebay. The second thing you notice if you look at the auction in detail is that all the bidders have either zero or one previous sales, which means they are all newbs and ripe for the suckering. Poor bugger who finally outbid my colleague (much to his relief) and ended up paying sixty four pounds for an email.

The other scam I have noticed in my browsing is the "really cheap shit item with massive postage" scam. There have been a couple of times where I have nearly purchased an item, usually goth bracelets in dubious taste or dodgy watches that look like skulls, and then noticed that while the item is only two or three pounds (and worth about three pound fifty) the postage is up to ten or fifteen quid, from within the uk. What a cunning ruse, pay only what the item is worth, but pay a huge amount of postage. And again, the newbs are suckered into paying a huge amount more than the item is worth.

Fair Play? Well as long as people will pay the price it works fine, but when the newbs have their first e-bay experience screwed up and leave the deal cursing the day they ever invented a username e-bay starts to stop working. The more people who use e-bay the better it is, and the converse is also true. I have beceom marginally more careful about what I will buy off e-bay having struggled for about four months to get an itme I bought. Now I sincerely believe it wasn't really all the sellers fault, but he was pretty slack when I asked what was going on, and the more experiences I have like this the less I will use ebay. I have bought a machete on e-bay which was a wonderful buy, good nick and prompt all round, but I have bought other things which have taken forever to get to me, or arrived in less that perfect condition. E-bay is a brilliant idea, and great for some things, but for god's sake be careful what you bid on, watch how many zeros you tap onto the end of your bid and keep an eye out for scumbags trying to screw you.
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/02/2004 03:49:00 pm
Nothing fills me with more dread than
still being in this job come my birthday. Having said I would quit at Christmas whatever happened, then holding on in the hope I would get a job I wanted at the Old Vic, now back to square one, only without the enthusiasm, naivete and goodwill that normally accompanies square one.

I really think I could face sitting at this desk on my birthday, watching the clock like usual and wondering where the fuck my life is going. Come to that I don't think I could face pulling a sicky in the knowledge that I have to come back here.

- posted by Buntifer @ 2/02/2004 02:46:00 pm
I really don't feel much like writing anything at the moment. I don't feel like sharing and I don't feel particularly bothered about the whole caboodle. I apologise for my posts perhaps getting more infrequent but until I find myself a new job I really can't speak for the contents of my head, as they are tending towards incoherent rage crossed with apathetical lackadaisical depression. Have fun...someone has to.
- posted by Buntifer @ 2/02/2004 01:31:00 pm
What a waste of babies!
Ah well...never mind...their loss...

No actually. My loss. I mind. Fuck Everything. [with a capital E]

- posted by Buntifer @ 2/02/2004 11:43:00 am

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