1. Tony the Tiger

Frosties Icon. Nowhere near as awesome as the Weetabix Skinheads, but still loads better than the Honey Monster or those goody goody Rice Krispie goons.

2. Tiger Woods

Troubled golfer. Macka B did a song about him which came out as a seven inch on Mad Professor’s Ariwa label:

3. Tigger

Hyperactive Winnie The Pooh sidekick. The original junglist:

Tigger: Come on, Rabbit. Let’s you and me bounce, huh?
Rabbit: Good heavens! M-m-m-me bounce?
Tigger: Why, certainly! And look, you’ve got the feet for it.
Rabbit: I have?
Tigger: Sure! Come on, try it! It makes ya feel just grrreat!

Tigger was also the name of my first two cats, who both met untimely road deaths.

4. The Tigress of Jowlagiri

Bodycount of fifteen. Do not mess.

5. Tamil Tigers

Possibly the inventors of suicide bombing, and also an inspiration to MIA. Not exactly a great legacy.

6. Tygers of Pan Tang

Never really liked this lot, they always seemed to appeal to the rockier punks who fancied themselves a bit. Martin recently had one of their tunes up at his which was alright, but I can’t find the link now.

7. Tiger Beer

Yes. An easy link into ragga MC Cobra here, please note for future entry. What other beers have similar names to reggae artists?

Click here to view the embedded video.

8. Le Tigre

Electro punky post-riot grrrrls. First heard this track on Tricky’s “Back To Mine” compilation which I got out of the library, like we used to in the olden days.

9. Tiger Tiger

A nightclub in London, site of 2007 car bomb. Easy to dismiss as the emodiment of Western meatmarket Decadence. But of course not every punter is as complicit as the stereotype suggests. I had a work Xmas “do” there once, for example.

10. Mac OS X Tiger

Which is what this has all been written with the assistance of. The latest “Snow Leopard” installment is obviously a lot cooler, but I’m not about to stump up for that.

Please add any more Tigers which spring to mind in the comments box…

A: They can both stick their bills up their arses.

I suppose this counts as history now? That’s definitely a sign of getting old.

A bunch of us headed down to Kennington Park and marvelled at the massive turnout. It is the second biggest demo I have ever been on, eclipsed only by the big fuck of anti- Iraq War one.

There were all sorts of people on the march, from pensioners and families to a load of punks marching under a very nice pisstaking “Freemasons Against The Poll Tax” banner.

Everyone was in good spirits, undiminished even by the patronising lefty paper sellers. The Poll Tax was one of those rare examples of a massive political issue which engaged (if not enraged) virtually everyone. The demo was culmination of mass resistance across the country, local meetings, demos and support groups springing up all over the place – everywhere.

People weren’t paying it. Like, lots and lots of people. My housemate Jon and I were eventually summoned to court for not paying it. The anteroom to the court was packed out with people of all ages. For some reason we were first up. We’d had a chat with the guy from the local anti-poll tax group and he’d given us some pointers.

The judge called me to the stand. I confirmed my identity and then demanded to see my printed record because I was sure there was an error on it. The clerk went off to get the record. There wasn’t an error on it. We then moved on to me “agreeing” to pay the poll tax in installments. I argued about the actual rate. Case closed.

Jon had been listening keenly and picked up some tips. He was also sure there was an error on his record, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He had to think about it a bit. And then some more…

Eventually the judge had enough: “YOU ARE BEING PERVERSE, MR XXXX”. I was very proud of him. He moved onto the bit about paying in installments. Which needed to be negotiated again, of course.

This all took a very long time. Which was of course the whole point. Lots of people don’t pay, lots of people jam up the court system. Our weight of numbers makes the unjust law unenforceable. Behind us the queue of other non-payers were stifling giggles. Hopefully our routine could be built on and extended by other people…

As far as I know both Jon and I stil owe a certain local council hundreds if not thousands of pounds for the poll tax. Eventually this debt had to be written off…

Anyway, twenty years ago today we rocked up at Trafalgar Square after the march and hung around a bit looking at the banners and probably buying anarchist newspapers. Waves and waves of people continued to come into the square. On the march we’d seen a lot of people, but now everyone was together the sheer scale of the event began to hit home.

Then the speeches started and someone said “come on, this is going to be really boring”. So we fucked off home. When we got in we turned the telly on, to see if the demo had made the news. And saw this:

Click here to view the embedded video.

So that kids, is how I managed to miss probably the biggest riot in my lifetime.

My regular readers shouldn’t fret – like Matt, my heart is still in blogging… more here soon!

2ND.FADE.

doppelganger in pathetic attempt to catapult himself to the top of alphabetised sidebars shock horror.

rhythmplex » Blog Archive » Interview: Bryan Lewis Saunders.

Bryan does incredibly intense spoken word. He sent me some CDs out of the blue a few years back. I played one of his pieces on RSI Radio vol 2 which got some good reaction at the time.

We’ve stayed in touch and I’m pleased to say he has a collaborative CD with the always brilliant Z’ev just released and has given a very revealing interview over at rhythmplex which confirmed my good thoughts about him.

In contrast to a lot of “transgressive” artists, Bryan focuses on the bleakest, darkest aspects of humanity – not as some willy-waving competition or to shock people out of their so-called consumer complacency (yawn) but because he has an incredible empathy:

“The occasional person who walks out or walks away during the show aren’t the ones I am most concerned about reaching, those people are OK in my book. It’s the few people that have the adverse reaction that concern me and scare me the most, and those are the people that I try hardest to reach out to.

The vast majority might not enjoy it but they aren’t supposed to and they know this, so they are the ones that are the most supportive and many people are hurting or personally know others that are hurting and are appreciative that I have given them a voice. They understand the method, message and goal because I make it quite obvious throughout the performance.

The occasional sicko / whack job on the other hand, that then challenges to “outmasturbate me” afterward, or says, “You just inspired me to cut off a monkey’s head! Wow, you just made me want to cut off a monkey’s head that was awesome!” those are the people that I try really hard to reach. It is probably too late for them but I try anyway, because I can identify with them and I myself fear that I could have become one of them had it not been for the arts.”

The interview is well worth reading in full and includes some of Bryan’s Youtube work.

See also bryanlewissaunders.org for more information.

The nice people hand over some blue robes and I sit, waiting for my MRI scan. NWA lyrics about being “dressed in the county blues” go round my head.

The letter said I should leave all my valuables at home, but that I could bring my own CD. People said don’t take anything too rhythmic, cos if you involuntarily brock out in there it might ruin the scan. I settled on Lull, Dave Parkin’s Snowflake mix and some Autechre.

In medical situations when they ask you a long list of questions, I always end up bursting out laughing. I know they have to do it for a good reason, but when it got down to “have you ever had a shrapnel injury?” I just couldn’t help myself. If I worked there I would make up some extra ones just to keep myself amused.

I’m not really claustrophobic but you do worry about being stuck down a tube and being immobile for an indeterminate length of time. The CDs were never mentioned, but I got to listen to patches of Heart FM. I say patches because the scanning process is actually really noisy, I hadn’t sussed that. Harsh drones of varying rhythmical definition. It was actually pretty wicked. Static-ridden Heart FM in the gaps.

The last bit was especially intense, almost up to Gabba tempo, with this faint undercurrent of Duffy “begging me for mercy”. Essentially the sonic experience of having a brain scan is like something Toecutter would come up with. I doubt many people see it like that, but for my part that connection gave me a (motionless) chuckle and kept the claustrophobia at bay.

I didn’t get to see a picture of my brain. Maybe I will when the results come through in a fortnight.

Asher Senator’s impact in Nigeria

Info on the Wicca Workers Party

A French fascist who would like me to go to Jamaica

Many thanks to the regulars also!

So, tell me a little bit about yourself.

ARM: Well as most people will know, I’ve been attached to you since before you were born, right?

Yeah I guess that goes without saying… but what’s changed recently?

ARM: Well there’s some other people here who can explain that better than me. [to the others] Do you want to introduce yourselves?

R.S.I.: Hi, I’m your repetitive strain injury. I guess my role is to give you pains in your arm and wrist when you’ve been using a keyboard too much. It’s been a few years now and we get on OK I think?

Well I suppose so. Who is the new guy?

B.E.T.: Hi there. I’m your benign essential tremor. It’s me whose been giving you those shakes since about February time.

Hi tremor! I was getting you two mixed up, wasn’t I?

B.E.T.: Yeah, ‘fraid so. I’m not taking it personally tho. It’s good we came to the hospital today to sort this out.

And you’re here to stay, right?

B.E.T.: Yup. Seems like I’m going to gradually get worse over the next 30 or 40 years, they reckon.

Because of you, I have to piss in a container this weekend?

B.E.T.: Ha ha, yeah sorry, they still have some tests to do. On the upside you get to go for one of those gnarly MRI scans, tho.

Fair point, I’m looking forward that one. It was a pretty good consultation overall.

ARM: For you maybe! She was hitting me with a fucking hammer!

Well yeah, but only to check your reflexes…

ARM: And then they stuck a needle in me!

C’mon, it was a blood test…

ARM: Mmmph. Did you get embarrassed when that other guy came in and made me wave at her in all sorts of funny ways? I’m just saying ‘cos I thought you looked a bit of a spacker. Well, even more than usual anyway.

That wasn’t great. She was nice, tho.

ARM: You probably shouldn’t have made that joke about being drunk all the time when we realised alcohol makes the shakes a bit better.

It wasn’t my finest moment. Are you going to help me carry this piss container home now?

ARM: Yeah sure. You’re taking it quite well, I think.

Well it’s important to keep things in perspective. I mean, at least I know what the fuck is happening now and it isn’t that bad. My arm shakes a bit sometimes, but not noticeably. Yet.

I mean, three women I work with have had cancer scares in the last 6 months and only one of them has come out of it OK so far. Dubversion fucked himself up proper after falling off a ladder, and generally the older you get the more awareness you have of people quietly enduring all sorts of horrible things on a daily basis.

ARM: So you don’t hate me?

Nah, we’re good. It is just One Of Those Things.

I must be mental to keep doing this!