And so it's time to bid farewell for just over 3 weeks as I depart these shores for a nice holiday in the South of France. Argeles to be precise. So in the meantime I will leave you with a nice picture by JMW Turner called The Fighting Temeraire. I may have posted this before, but its one of my favourites so unlucky, you'll have to live with it! Au Revoir, GrocerJacques 

Far be it from me to criticise my Mancunian brethren, especially those who support the "red" team based in that splendid city. However, doesn't this just sum up who the real fan base of Manure FC is? Later, GrocerJack 

The longest week

....has started.

This is the week that we all know.

Its the one before you go on holiday.

In your heart and soul you're already there. Already on the beach, by the pool, strolling through bustling french (....insert country name here) markets, already sitting outside the street cafe positioned near the artists displays, waiting for the bottle of chilled red wine to be delivered, with the foaming bubbling ice cold glass of Leffe to be used as the immediate thirst quencher. Already browsing lazily through the menu toiling over what to choose from as the delicious smells from the kitchen waft past. Already choosing fresh meat for the barbecue outside tonight, choosing the salad accompaniment as various market traders foist there wares on you to taste just why theirs is better than anyone else's.

A week when you're already wearing less clothes, smiling because the sun is on your back and you're not at work, so you can actually enjoy it. A week when you're already reading all those books you want to catch up on, already listening in depth to all those new albums downloaded to your mp3 player. A week where the daily news is something happening elsewhere and you can switch off the brain. A week where you're already relaxing and recharging.

No wonder its such fucking torture.

Later, GrocerJack

Friday Mind Games

Go to this Philosophy site and have a go at the games. My favourite was "Staying Alive". Apparenty I survived.

Later, GrocerJack

Impressive

The sidebar states "I'm Listening To : Employment by The Kaiser Chiefs". I....ahem.....downloaded this from my favourite eccentric BitTorrent site and frankly it's fucking fantastic. As good as the debut albums from Franz Ferdinand and Evanescence in fact, and yet another nail in the coffin of the view that good music is confined to the dance bollocks of Garage, Hip-hop, Drum n' Bass, the faux R&B being spouted etc etc.

Real music from real bands using real instruments.

Anyway without doing a review I highly recommend this album, and judging by the performances I saw on TV from Glastonbury and Live 8, they look pretty shit hot live as well.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Later KaiserJack

Missed Opportunities

Picture the scene.

Early 1960's and you've just left school. You think you want to work in the building trade, but without getting your hands dirty. Something like surveying or planning perhaps.

A job for life, because back in the Sixties, jobs were for life. Back in the Sixties you could leave your job in the morning and be in gainful employment in the afternoon.

So, after some careful thought you decide that college is the best route, after all you weren't quite academic enough for University. University was after all for the posher kids. Or those that went to grammar schools. You went to a grammar school but never really felt comfortable there. All of your friends went down the road to the Secondary Modern. That's where "workers" and "tradesmen" came from. Not from some fucking poncey grammar school, feeding elitism and breeding wimps.

You disliked grammar school but there was a salvation there. You made friends with some like minded kids of the the same age and formed a band. Yeah, a real band playing rock 'n' roll music with guitars and drums. Elvis and the pre-pious cliff were ruling the new hit parade. The Sixties were going to be a fast and furious decade of change, where the post war austerity of Britain, steeped in decades of age related hierarchy, where older people knew best and younger people aspired to be their parents, sat awkwardly alongside the very fledgling rebellious movements of teenage dreams and aspirations. Why should things be the same? Why fight a war and carry on as before? The band would be the route out.

Then school came to an end. You were a "man" now. Expected to work proper and contribute to the household finances. To find a nice girl, get a good job, have kids, buy a house, get a car.

Be normal.

So you go to college to get your building qualifications.

And one night you get a knock at the door. Standing at the door are your two mates from the band at school.

"Hello mate. We're forming a new band and we need a bass guitarist. Obviously we thought of you......fancy joining us"

"Oh yeah, what full time like?"

"Yeah, full time, proper stuff, writing our own songs, performing live. We wanna be big. And rich and famous"

"Well, it is tempting, but .....no thanks....I think I'll stick to college and get my building exams under my belt"

....some haggling continues for a while..........

"Alright mate, your choice. We'll find someone else. See you around"

"Cheers lads, yeah see you around"

You shut the door, you sigh. That was the logical choice wasn't it? Mum and Dad would have wanted you to make that choice. It was the safe bet. You'd have a job for life in the building trade. Yeah....it was the right choice.

But deep inside, there is a nagging feeling. Something tapping away all the time. You struggle with it for a few weeks, but in the end it subsides.

You were right all along.

And that my friends is how my Father in Law, The Grand Master himself, failed to become the bass guitarist in a band with his best mates from school.

Best mates that just happened to be Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend.

A band they called The Who.

They got some guy called John Enwhistle in the end, who died having just shagged some gorgeous hooker, having sniffed a pile of Charlie and drunk a bottle of wine.

I guess The Grand Master is laughing last now, being that he's still alive. But you can't help thinking about what he missed. I know he's had a good life, with lovely daughters, lovely grandchildren, great Son-in-Laws *jack takes a bow* and job security, but inside there must be just the tinge of curiosity about what might have been.

Later, Grocerjack

Male Conundrum

So, Shagger Jude Law is up to his tricks again, having knobbed his childrens Nanny whilst still declaring an apparent undying love to the gorgeous Siena Miller. Not happy with having driven Sadie Frost a bit mad with his ....ahem........off screen "rehearsals" he seems intent on hitting the self destruct button on his relationship again.

All for a quick shag apparently.

So a rich, apparently talented, good looking, single (but engaged) bloke makes the news because his knob rules his head and heart.

The answers simple. He's a fucking bloke. It's what we do.

For this selfish act alone, allowing his worse nature to run his life, and then to bleat about it afterwards having been gratified he is immediately accepted into the Guild of Grumpy Blokes.



Later, GrocerJack

Blogger Problems

Simple question for those in the blogosphere.

Or not, as the case may be.

I use Firefox as my browser. On my work laptop I can login with no problem, but on the home machine Blogger just refuses my username and password? Anyone any ideas as to why? If I use the "auto-complete" function and "password manager" it fails, as does manual entry of both.

Any help is much appreciated.

Later, GrocerJack

Dubious dig at The French

I know the Anglo-French slanging match is puerile and childish. In fact I love France, the french, the culture, the lifestyle and everything about the country (bar their ......ahem....music). But I couldn't help finding this dubious spoof news item amusing.......

Prime Minister Chirac has officially raised the French terror alert from "Run" to "Hide". There are only two higher alert levels in France, which are "Surrender" and "Collaborate".

The rise was precipitated by a recent fire which destroyed France's white flag factory - effectively crippling their military .

Plus tard, GrocerJacques

Twat

At noon yesterday I left the *yawn* Change Management Workshop, with my fellow Change Planning Managers to stand outside and observe the silence in honour of those that died last week in the London bombings. As we walked silently past the in-house cafe and walked into the car park, heads bowed. Some stopped in the cafe and watched the BBC news coverage on the huge plasma screen TV's adorning the walls. Silence.

Broken, by laughter. Then followed by loud voices. Discussing how to apply the "MOOD methodology to The Company's High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department". For fucks sake you knobs! Cold stares did nothing. Fingers held over lips made no difference.

Why?

Because The Officer is a twat. The Stumbler should know better. Their guest was a flash suited salesman making his pitch. As if he even gave a shit. He had potential pound signs in his eyes, no doubt putting his commission above all else. Wanker. But The Officer continued, rabbiting on about deploying Six-Sigma strategies, about RAEW/RAECI analyses. About "Systems Engineering thinking patterns". At some point about a minute in - flash SalesCunt seemed to have a moment of revelation, as did The Stumbler. Both looked embarrassed and suitably self-admonished. But The Officer carried on regardless. The silence was over. He had talked all the way through, continually using his hand signal speech marks to "quote" his phrases. As we stood outside all we heard faintly was this fucking monkey-brained cunt, inflated with his own self importance, wallowing in his smart-arsedness, flushed with an ego the size of Everest, talking complete and utter gobbledygook bollocks arsewankspeak.

Why didn't anyone say anything? Because we'd have to break the silence to do so. Because we're British and our over-riding sense of politeness steers us down a path of non-confrontation. Because we happily hold wankers likely this in silent contempt. Apparently someone did comment to him that he was "out of order". His alleged reply was along the lines of ".....sorry old boy...never realised...never mind......tragic wasn't it......" before walking off to god knows where.

Sometimes you just wish there was a rogue bolt of lightning around to help re-adjust his priorities.

Later, Grocerjack

Big Statement

I've been a critic of "silences" held as tributes previously simply because I felt it was getting out of hand. Silences as tributes or ceremonies of remembrance seemed to be a way of a moral majority attempting to emotionally blackmail people into emulating a politically correct method of behaviour. I mean, Ken Bigley was a man working in Iraq trying to make money and had presumably accepted the risk of kidnapping and murder, and had presumably done a risk assessment and consequently assessed that he and his colleagues did not need to live in a secure compound as recommended by the Security Services. As devastating as his death was to his family I was not convinced of the need for a minutes silence in remembrance of someone who was essentially a mercenary and not someone who had died whilst in active service. Why hold one for Ken Bigley, but not for Sergeant Steve Roberts - killed because he relinquished his body armour under orders?

However, my mind might have been changed yesterday about some of these silences. The one that seemed to cover the UK yesterday at noon, one which I gladly honoured, was an incredibly powerful moment to behold, as well as an incredibly powerful statement seen and shared around the world. We are not a Latin race, and therefore don't seem to take to the streets in the same way as our Spanish compatriots did after the awful Madrid bombing last year. In it's own way that was also undoubtedly emotional and powerful. So powerful, in fact, it got the government changed. However, the reaction was that of (understandable) hysteria. The difference to us Brits is remarkable.

Yesterday, Britain stopped for 2 minutes. Cars stopped, buses stopped, aircraft take-offs were delayed, trains stopped on the line, workers left their workplaces and stood on the streets, not only of London, but over the whole country. Unity was the overwhelming message. Poignant scenes from Trafalgar Square where Muslim, Jew, Sikh, Hindu and Christian stood side by side in silent condemnation. This was not only condemnation of the bombers, but of their beliefs, their radicalism, their twisting of the Qu'ran, their warped spin on the words of their God and their methods. It was a condemnation of the belief that life can be taken in order to impose a way of life on a free nation.

But equally stunning was watching the BBC news 24 coverage. The images of those stood in calm silence from around the UK was even more moving when viewed in retrospect, the power of the silent statement shown in full glory. But in a brilliant touch, they added the sights of Paris on Bastille day in silence, graciously acknowledging both our dead, and their condemnation of terrorism. Anglo-French childish spats laid to rest for a few moments, backed up by generous words from Jacques Chirac, a man more reknowned for his open contempt and dislike for all things British (barring our tourism money of course). Berlin sat silent as well, underground trains stopped in stations with doors open, their human contents stood motionless. The people in Madrid and Barcelona also quietened in tribute. BBC News 24 seemed to have an endless supply of shots from around the world of people sharing Britain's grief, but more so united in a single act of silent defiance. All generated by us, our people, our culture, our diversity, our determination to carry on as normal.

I have knocked this country many a time on the blog for its faults and flaws, but yesterday was the first time in a very long time that I actually stood and felt proud of being British. Yesterday I re-discovered something about this country and its people that I had forgotten existed. For the first time I saw the spirit of the blitz in full glory. And it felt good.

Later, Grocerjack

Like a Fish needs a bicycle.......

Whilst I was over at Strings place somehow or another he managed to sell me a new bike...........when I'm skint saving for next months sojourn to the South of France (wearing my Back the Bid t-shirt of course). Did he put something in the beer to make this unscheduled sale? He is facing redundancy next year and I think if he can sell me a bike when all I wanted was my old one bought up to scratch then he has a big future is Sales.

Mind you its a fucking nice bike.

All part of the plan to allow GMD to sanction the purchase of a big boys motorbike so that Jack can return to his rebellious thirty-something years.....

I always wanted a Kawasaki ZZR1100, but these days I do have a hankering for a Harley. Is it because I'm at Radio 2 age?

Later, GrocerJack

Seriously.......

Over to Strings place last night for some remedial work on my bike, which I have resolved toi use more in order to get some exerceise and remove myself from the prison cell of my car. I live ina village and really there's no reason not to use the bike more.

We chat for a while and the subject of Live 8 comes up, us both being big music fans.

"....I liked Pink Floyd....." says Strings......." but Comfortably Numb was slightly ruined by one thing..."

"Oh yeah..." says I"...what would that be then...." slightly indignant that anyone has the temerity to criticise these masters of stagecraft and musicianship.

"Well......." he continued whilst twiddling with various nuts and bolts on the bike".....Mrs Strings came in halfway through and said ...."this is good....who is it?"........"

"Why it's Pink Floyd" he replied to his beloved
" Oh......."she replies "...well why are they performing a Scissor Sisters song then?"

*groans in pain*
**sighs with sadness that this is how a new generation would have thought of this**
***smiles, because its a great story which will last me for years***

Later, Grocerjack

Blogger ...my friend...my enemy....

Hmmm.......Blogger seems to be having some issues at the moment. One minute it's fine, the next it doesn't recognize either my login or my password or a combination of both. The trouble is that as it's a free service, and I'm bloody tight fisted I can't really go anywhere and complain. Therefore, in a week where I feel I have a gobful of crass, insensitive, emotional, sharp, witty, uncouth etc etc comments to make I may find myself constrained by the fortunes of Blogger.

*kicks side of computer in frustration*
**moans as computer now make rather a loud whining noise**

Later, GrocerJack

How did the golf go then Jack?

Yeah, like any of you give a fucking shit. Anyway because at least one person might be interested, I played a shocker on the Sunday going round the PGA National course at The Belfry. After all the good of the previous week in Devon, and even a reasonable score on the relentlessly difficult West Course at Wentworth I had a complete fucking nightmare on this course. Golf can be a right cunt of a game vecause just when you think you're eaking at the right time, along comes a course that will reduce you to almost tears. Needless to say, that night I decided to play it safe for the big game on The Brabazon course. Nothing too lairy, nothing to stupid, just a nice relaxing meal, courtesy of The Company because it was their event.

So, I drank Stella for the first time in god knows how long, mixed up nicely with some white wine, followed by copious amounts of red. At 12:30 (am) I was bollocksed. Kidneys and liver silently screaming at me to stop. A complete failure in the control system between brain and mouth had occuered from about 11 that evening. I was finally persuaded to quiot when it became apparent that the native Kyrzygstani that I had started to speak was not helping my social skills, nor my ability to order another large portion of AlcoPoison.

Lets also state that The Belfry, nice as it is, is not exactly a ....ahem...target rich environment so best behavioural emergency brain/mouth protocols were subconciously applied. During the course of this evening there was a highlight, well from a golf perspective anyway. The organisor announced the arrival of the mystery speaker - a Mr Sandy Jones. For the uninitiated he is the Chairman of the European PGA, which is just about the top job in golf, alongside the equivalent for the USGA (coz the yanks think they invented the sport). So what I hear you say. Well, here's what...........he bought along the actual Ryder Cup. The trophy that Europe so convincingly won again last year in America. We all had our photo taken with it, in a presentation frame, to keep, for fuck all. I even got to pick it up and hold it aloft. Not a bad little bonus to say the least. Sandy Jones himself was both funny and articulate and actually seemed to enjoy taking the time to personally talk to us hackers afterwards at the bar. A top geezer.

Next day , we were teeing off at 8 in the morning on the Brabazon course, where Europe took the trophy from the yanks in 1999. Fantastic. Our group started on the 18th which meant we finished on the 17th. But as we had to walk past the 18th to get back to the clubhouse this also meant we might as well play the 18th again for fun. So we did. A great course, far more enjoyable for my level than the Wentworth West Course (did I mention I played that last week?). And belive me the anasthtic affect of the night before worked a treat as I had a very respectable round to erase the memopry of the shite from the day before. So, 2 rounds of golf, 3 meals, overnight accomodation, free wine on the tables, a photo with the Ryder Cup, a goody bag with golf gifts to the value of around £80....all for the princely sum of £100. Sometimes , like I say, the hypocrisy of working for The Company and having to put up with utter fuckwits for most of the day can be worth it.

Later, GrocerJack

Not just London Suffers

Yesterdays dreadful attacks in London have really soured what seemed to be a an uplifting and happy week in which to be a citizen within a society within this green, wet, occasionally warm sceptred island we call Britain. A remarkable island, based on a rich variety of creeds and cultures, developed over years by the (sometimes uneasy) co-existence of different races and beliefs. This co-existence is not always harmonious but time breeds familiarity, which in turn pisses over the fire of contempt caused by misunderstandings and ignorance. The prime example is The Romans. They came and they conquered but ultimately after many years Roman culture became integrated with Anglo-Saxon culture, not replacing it, but merging it to form something new over generations.

Evolution not revolution.

So, yesterdays cowardly acts did not attack Londoners as an isolated group as some commentators in the blogosphere would seem to be indicating. Understandably as London based bloggers they feel the pain, suffering, shock and fear at a closer range than many of us. However, speaking as an London ex-pat who still has far more years behind him of living in London than the (sunny?) South Coast my own feeling is that London was not attacked yesterday as a city, nor were Londoners attacked as residents of a fabulous city which, in the words of Bono at Live Aid in 1985, like all cities has it’s good and it’s bad.

No, the attack was on Britain. It was aimed at you, and me. At our friends and family. Against those we love, like and even dislike. Peoples sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. It was aimed at the way we live, the way we work, the way we play, the way we think, the way we pray. It was an attack on our freedom, our independence and our ability to make choices. It was an attack on our society and our choices to live our lives as we choose within the realms of generally fair and just laws. By hitting London they hit us all and as stoic as Londoners will be, and as united as they will undoubtedly become, this is merely a euphemism for Brits as a whole, be they black, white, blue or fucking green. To the perpetrators of this obscenity remember this - the harder you hit us the more we will stand in your face and stare right into your souls. You have forgotten one thing. We are as fucking hard as we think. And we don’t need anyone else’s army.

We’re not scared, but the people who support, fund, plan and carry out this shite fucking should be.

Read the increasingly impressive Ken Livingstone’s stirring and passionate speech here.

Later, GrocerJack

Just so you know

The mobile networks have been reported as suffering from congestion in London due to the explosions. There are very good reasons for this. As I am gainfully employed by one of the major network operators, let me shed some light on this.

The Company's network was unsurprisingly heavily congested due to the explosions. The Company are considered a vital part of the UK national infrastructure which means at times of national emergency we can be "commandeered" for the national good. Much like cruise ships and civilian airliners during times of war. At around 10 this morning we were asked by the Met and the Government to invoke ACOLC (Access Overload Control) protocols. This prioritises mobile network bandwidth to Emergency Services and Government above all others. Only a handful within The Company know what this really means but the concensus is that it blocks all other users. One reason is that forensic investigations will be carried out on all 5 networks to trace calls made at the time of the explosions, linking handsets to landlines etc inorder to try and find the culprits. The second is that because it can't be determined that remote detonation wasn't used, it is necessary to prevent any further devices being set off by eliminating the transport method for the signals. It is assumed that Emergency Service and Government phones are unlikely to be the "triggers".

Each network will publicly state "congestion" as the cause of dropped or no calls, but the reality is somewhat more grim. Understandably The Company can't state this publicly because it might cause panic, or even unwarranted violence against "dodgy" looking characters making innocent calls etc. Of course it disrupts those just wanting to contact friends and family, but the greater good has to be catered for here and it would be wrong for Emergency Services to be unable to communicate at the expense of the "I'm OK Mum" call or the "I'll be late for the meeting" call.

Later, GrocerJack

How Could They?

Although not proven yet it does seem that some terrorist friends have had a right old pop at London today with bombs being detonated on tubes and buses. I'll wait before jumping to the (increasingly) obvious conclusions as to who are guitly, but lets face it, the IRA seem to be following a more political route these days, and this type of un-warned bomb isn't their trademark. The anti-capitalist anarchist twats may be responsible what with G8 and that, but in all honesty it has the trademarks of those Islamic Cunts Al-Quaeeda.

Hard to see no backlash occurring if that is the case and as wrong as that would be one can't help feeling that in some ways they need to see a similar message. Kill our people, and we'll kill yours.

Personally I don't want the perpetrators bought to justice. I want them killed, either slowly so they are aware of their impending fate, but even more so by ensuring their death brings no glory in the after life. That's what would genuinely put the fear into them. Bullets dipped in pig fat or pigs blood.

Whatever, its a real downer on a very up week for both London and the UK.

Later, GrocerJack

Live 8 – The Jack View

At 2 ‘o’ clock on Saturday the 2^nd of July it all started again. 20 years on from that glorious hit sunny day in 1985, when the generation I was firmly lodged into got off of our arses and changed part of the world.

Because we cared.

Because we found a conscience.

Because we had been moved by the vision and passion of one man – Sir Bob Geldof. The man is simply inspirational. I’m not a fan of the honours system, or peerages in general because very few genuinely deserve to be lifted in status. But by God, Geldof is a true “Sir”. A real and genuine person with real commitment and passion. Surely Saint Bob is more justified?

And by God, back in 1985 did we change it for the better. If there was one reason to see why Live Aid was worthwhile it was the show stopping moment, after the Drive video from The Cars was re-shown and the African girl at the end, some 10 minutes from death walked onto the stage, a beautiful and stunning young woman, now possessing the gift of education having just completed her finals in Agriculture Studies (or something like that).

A single moment to stop the heart for a second and to bring a genuine tear to the eyes of a jaded old cynic like me. It was a truly inspiring sight. That one young woman embodied everything that was right about Live Aid and showed just how direct action from people who care can make a huge difference.

One life saved, one life transformed

One life spent living instead of dying.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

And so to the gig itself. I watched most of it, or it was always on the background – a decent backdrop to a good and important day. One thing was certain though, the old bands, the crusty old dinosaurs of music were the ones who stole the show, ahead of burgeoning new talents like The Killers, Keane and Snow Patrol.

Ratings (out of 20) and comments:

Sir Paul McCartney and U2: Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

16/20 – not bad but Sir Beatle Of Macca appeared to have problems hitting some notes. Perhaps the voice is just old now. The horn playing faux Beatles was a nice touch and it did get the gig off to a solid and happy start.

U2: Beautiful Day, Vertigo, One

17/20 – simply terrific as per usual. They have the knack of getting the crowd on their side

Coldplay: In My Place, Fix You

15/20 – maybe a wee bit tired from Glasto perhaps. Still a good score though and they have all the potential to be a magical live band going forward.

Coldplay and Richard Ashcroft: Bitter Sweet Symphony

16/20 – a great idea from Coldplay this – deny you had goosepimples when the string intro started? Ashcroft rose to the occasion, but to call him the best singer in the world might be pushing it.

Sir Elton John (introduced by Little Britain's Matt Lucas and David Walliams): Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, The Bitch is Back

4/20 – Fuck Off Sir Baldness of Pinner. You don’t have it anymore. Retire gracefully and play the Gay pride circuit where undoubtedly they will love you forever. Walliams and Lucas were funny though.

Sir Elton John and Pete Doherty: Children of the Revolution

0/20 – The words “bunch of fucking arse” may well have been coined specifically for crap like this. Sir Wigness introduced the twat Doherty to pay homage to Marc Bolan. Sir Wigness, you have besmirched the memory of a great pop star with your partronage of this shite and damaged a great song. Doherty – you’re an insult to everyone and not fit to lick the dog shit from Bolan’s boots if he were still with us. Take your overdose, die and do us all a favour you fucking moron.

Dido: White Flag, Thank You, Seven Seconds

16/20 - Surprisingly good, and the guest appearance of the peerless Youssou N’Dour made it better. Dido actually seemed to lift under his presence and their joint rendition of 7 Seconds was pure musical magic.

Stereophonics: Dakota, Local Boy In The Photograph, Bartender And The Thief, Superman

13/20 – not bad, but a little underwhelming and a bit too much emphasis on the “croaky” voice of the singer

REM (introduced by Ricky Gervais): Imitation of Life, Everybody Hurts, Man on the Moon

14/20 – Mad Michael and his Blue Stripe injected a bit of energy into proceedings – not sure about the elongated scream – but Everybody Hurts is their anthem (imho) and they did pull it off nicely.

Ms Dynamite: Dy-na-mi-tee, Judgement Day, Redemption Song

8/20 – I’m afraid she’s not really my bag so I was unlikely to be won over. I listened to the first song and tuned out for the rest. The call for everyone to wave their arms was a tad patronising as well.

Keane: Bed Shaped, Somewhere Only We Know

15/20 – they admitted to being as nervous as a bag of bollocks beforehand, but they did perform quite nicely. Never likely to be “stadium” gig material because the material is a little lightweight, but pleasant enough and who knows what will happen to their stuff going forward.

Travis: Sing, Turn, Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

15/20 – polished and professional with an unscripted version of Staying Alive to amuse the crowd.

Travis with Bob Geldof: I Don't Like Mondays

9/20 – You’re a good bloke Bob, but really, forget the singing career. Salvaged only by the fact that the song still stands up after 20 odd years as a bloody good tune.

Annie Lennox (introduced by Brad Pitt): Why, Little Bird, Sweet Dreams

2/20 – I cannot fucking stand the woman as a singer, too much “lalalala – wooh wooh wooooh” although oddly enough she is a very pleasant person.

UB40: Medley - Food For Thought, Who You Fighting For, Reasons, Red Red Wine, Can't Help Falling In Love

16/20 – Brilliant to hear Food for Thought and would have been topped if they had done King. Memories came flooding back of some ….ahem…….sofa moments with ex girlfriends. UB40 was always good backing music for when undie removal was the target mission.

Snoop Dogg: Medley - Ups And Downs, It's A G Thang, Drop It, Signs, What's My Name

10/20 – Don’t like his stuff but he did have energy. Like the “mother loving” moments as well. Must have given the Beeb a few artery busting moments.

Razorlight: Somewhere Else, Golden Touch, Vice

10/20 – Was it just me or was this just insipid, weak, lily-livered bollocks. I sort of like some of their stuff but talk about rabbits innheadlights. You, that must be it, they completely bottled it.

Madonna: Like a Prayer, Music, Ray of Light

19/20 – I’ve liked a bit of her stuff from time to time but never really thought of her as a “live” singer. Well, she was fucking brilliant here and made Sir Slaphead of Watford look right a right cunt with his stupid Brit Award comments about her inability to sing live. Sir BigForehead – she wiped the fucking floor with you, had the audience (there and ta home) eating out of her hand. She looked fit as fuck, and ……….ooooh I think I’ve just come! The moment before with the Ethiopian girl from the Drive video set this up nicely as a juxtaposition of emotion between tears and joy. Madge baby, leave that twat of a husband and come to Jack.

Snow Patrol: Chocolate, Run

14/20 – Great songs, great album, bottled it. And why was the lead singer stuck with a schoolboy grin on his face? Had he just let off a stinkbomb or something.

The Killers: All These Things That I've Done

15/20 – A late entry to the running order, thus the reason for just one song. Of the “new” bands they just edged it

Joss Stone: Super Duper Love, I Had A Dream, Some Kind of Wonderful

10/20 – nah, just too small a voice and presence for a gig of this scale. Nice looking bird though.

Scissor Sisters: Laura, Take Your Mama, Everybody Wants The Same Thing

15/20 – very impressive but I knew they would be as their Brits performance was also quite staggeringly good. They would have scored higher but for their insistence on plugging a new (albeit good) song.

Velvet Revolver: Do It For The Kids

10/20 – my jury is still put on these, both from what I’ve heard and this performance. One thing is certain, no one slept through their set.

Sting: Every Breath You Take, Message in a Bottle, Desert Rose

14/20 – not bad, but hardly the most inspiring of people. I can’t put my finger on what, but I just felt something was missing from this performance.

Mariah Carey: Vision of Love, Make It Happen, We Belong Together

0/10 – How the fuck was this allowed to happen? Even had her “african” children on stage to show just how caring she is. Stupid lightweight mental bitch. I’ve heard rumours about her behaviour before and after which, if true, sum up everything I thought about this pampered, prissy, dim fuckwit.

Robbie Williams: Let Me Entertain You, Feel, Angels

14/20 – Now, from the crowd perspective I expect this was excellent. But from watching at home it missed because he insisted on getting the crowd to sing INSTEAD of him. This meant that TV viewers like me just heard what sounded like a few drunken people singing after leaving a pub. There are never any microphones in the crowd so you never really know it sounds. George Michael got away with at the Freddie mercury tribute gig, as did the mercurial Mr ….ahem mercury at the original Live Aid. But here it just meant gaps in the songs. A little tip Robbie, me old mucker…….you are the entertainer, so fucking entertain. You sing, not me. I might sing along with you but I resent singing along without you. It’s what you do so fucking do it next time. As someone on 5Live said – it may as well have been Norman Wisdom with a microphone.

The Who (introduced by Peter Kay): Who Are You? Won't Get Fooled Again

19/20 – Now I know the later bands had the advantage of a light show in the darkness of twilight/night time, but frankly they were superb. A blistering version of a song I never rated in Who Are You got the audience there and at home rocking away. To follow that with the wonderful Won’t Get Fooled Again then finished the job completely. Daltrey’s voice may not have it’s youthful power but the yell near the end showed he can still hit a note. Marvellous and wonderful. Shame the director missed some of Townshends trademark windmill guitar playing and Daltrey’s trademark microphone hurling. Oh yeah, Peter kay was dead funny as well, even managing to get the crowd singing Amarillo before The Who appeared.

Pink Floyd: Breathe/Run, Money, Wish You Were Here, Comfortably Numb)

20/20 - I do have some bias here as these are my favourite ever band. Ever. I was also worried in case they did a Led Zeppelin at the original Live Aid, which was as abysmal as anything ever seen before. I was worried how things would go as the apparent acrimony between Waters and Gilmour would need to be capped to avoid any embarrassment. I drew a sharp breath as the darkness on the stage was accompanied by the heartbeat signature from Dark Side of The Moon. I sensed the anticipation in the crowd. Within 30 seconds I, and the Clan, were all grinning madly as it became obvious that the masters were back in their workshop. Supreme musicianship, superb timing, a fantastic choice of songs, genuine warmth. Waters smiling as he realised what a good feeling it was to be back on a UK stage with his old partners in crime, ditto Gilmour, Mason and Wright. Dick Parry’s sax solo on Money was simply magical, Gilmours guitar was soaring and magnificent in every way. Waters bass guided each song through relentlessly and Mason’s drumming show no signs of being slowed or dimmed though age. The climax of comfortably numb saw a synchronised air guitar solo from me and the boys, along with a good proportion of the crowd. Gilmours strings being pushed to the limits of his Fender Stratocaster to reach the rising notes. A virtuoso performance from a sorely missed band that had the crowd enraptured from all age groups. This is what live music is all about. Surely now a Farewell Tour must be a possibility?

Sir Paul McCartney joined on stage by George Michael

14/20 – a flat way to finish, but not really Sir Scouse of Wings fault. He must have been shitting a brick at the thought of having to follow The Who and Pink Floyd, even more so having seen and heard their blistering performances. Still a good way of winding down and he did a reasonable job.

Overall then a great day and one that I would like to see a bit more frequently although Glastonbury seems to be a key provider of such an eclectic mix of different genre’s and ages. Perhaps I should get myself down there in 2007. But the overriding sensation is that despite what the NME’s poison pen knobber jacks think, there is still a place for our revered bands to inspire and show the newer bands just what is possible, both visually, audibly and performance wise.

Later, FloydJack

How good was that?

I'm off for a few days for Charidee mate so a proper review of two things will occur when I come back

1. ) Doctor Who, the final episode and series overall

2.) Live 8.

I was prepared to be let down by Live 8 but in brief the highlights were U2, Coldplay, Madonna, The Who and most magnificently of all, the supreme Pink Floyd. They stole the show. It was like they'd never been away.

Later FloydJack