Cathys Through Time: Cathy Moriaty

Blonde hair love, yeah? Two arms AND two legs, yeah? Eyes, nose, mouth and that, yeah?

Boring…

…is what you might think on first glance of this here human. But Cathy Moriarty has not only been in nuff films, but one you’ll only have bloody seen. Raging Bull, int it? You know, that one with the people doing the things and the there’s that plot and it’s all based around that one guy who looks just like himself.

And get this hit of high-grade mind-bumming…

She were only in f**king neighbours and all!

But yeah, two arms AND two legs. Boring…

Verdict:

Legs – 2

Arms – 2

Famous Films – 1

Neighbours – Become Good Friends

Cathys Through Time: Cathy Rogers

Where else could one start with our regular showcasing the world’s greatest Cathys, but with Cathy Rogers?

She will, of course, leave a Scrapheap Challenge legacy, but her core fans will remember her with great joy, nay, gratitude, for her ground breaking work with the popular beat combo, Heavenly.

Heavenly transcended genres. They looked at pop, took a step back and boisterously stamped on it’s hideously disfigured toes. They had a brief fling with Reggaeton but decided where there’s two g’s there’s a niggling desire to break moulds. They finally settled on ‘Misc.’.

Roger’s keyboarding skills made scholars weep and small children develop new ways of fighting crime.

Although Cathy Rogers is still with us and ‘running an olive farm in Italy’ (I think it‘s clear that‘s a metaphor…), I feel the time is right to offer our condolences for her future death.

RIP Cathy Rogers.

Top Ten London Cheap Eats For Students

Franco Manca

Very cheap pizza (we‘re talking £6. Mamma mia!), winner of ridiculous amounts of awards, sourdough bases (they’re white). Good times.

4, Market Row, Electric Lane, Brixton, SW9 8LD. Nearest Tube – Brixton

New Tayyabs

With a plethora of curry houses just round the corner on Brick Lane, you’d think Tayyabs would have to worry about the competition. It doesn’t. There is no doubt, this is the best curry restaurant in London. Turn up early (you can’t book, expect to wait for an hour at the weekend), BYO booze, order the lamb chops and the ribs, enjoy the bustling atmosphere and drift away into curry heaven.

85 Fieldgate Street, London, E1 1JU. Nearest tube – Whitechapel
Zaytoon

You won’t find this Lebanese gem in your average budget eateries guide. No sir. That’s because the other guides are inferior. Guestlist Network is all up in your grill with the finest unknown café you’ll find. Get the sharwarma wrap and feel the party in your mouth. And chat to the owner, he’s lovely.

12 Bond Street, Ealing, W5 5AA. Nearest Tube – Ealing Broadway

StringRay Globe

The busiest Italian café in the land I tell thee. Service isn’t great (depending on your waitress) but the food certainly is. Whether you have the perfect pizza or the pretty damn good pasta, you’ll go home happy. And very full. The portions are massive.

109 Columbia Road London E2 7RL. Nearest Tube – Bethnal Green/ Liverpool Street/ Old Street

Boys Café

Ooh I don’t half love a good Thai. I like it even more when it’s cheap. Therefore, I really, really like Boys Café. Have the Red, Green or Jungle (if you’re hard as nails like me) curry and look at your bank balance after. And laugh. Then repeat, weekly.

Boys Cafe, 615 Harrow Road, NW10 5NU. Nearest Tube – Kensal Green

Farshad

The area around Hanger Lane is about as inspiring as Mr. Mansfield (WORST CHEMISTRY TEACHER LIKE, EVER!) but Farshad shines like the brightest star. Helpful waiting staff, exceptional Iranian cuisine and very reasonable prices make the journey from wherever you’ve come well worth it.

13 Ashbourne Parade, Hanger Lane, W5 3QS. Nearest Tube – Hanger Lane

Tas Firin

I’d never heard of a ‘pide’ before I came here. Now I’m always banging on about them. They’re little Turkish pizzas and they should eaten. By you. Now. Go. Bye then, bye. (You can’t book, so seriously, just go.)

160 Bethnal Green Rd, E2 6DG. Nearest Tube – Bethnal Green

Cafe Sol

Mexican food in this country is generally dire. Sickeningly bland and uninspiring rubbish disguised as good food with jalapeño peppers (mmm jalapeño peppers). Not here, not even slightly mate, nah. Have the enchiladas, they’re both nang and peng in equal measures.

13 Nelson Rd, Greenwich, SE10 9JB. Nearest Tube – Greenwich/ Cutty Sark

Beatroot

My missus is a veggie. That’s a bit upsetting, huh? It’s alright though (and I know this is hard to believe) but vegetarian food can actually be quite nice. In Beatroot, for example. I had a vegetable stir fry, it was brilliant and I forgot about dead animals for a good hour.

92 Berwick Street, Soho, W1F 0QD. Nearest Tube – Piccadilly Circus

Noodle King

There’s a few of these very cheap noodle houses around London, but this one is by far my favourite. HUGE (seriously, you could feed two or three of you with one) portions. I always have the Singapore Fried Rice and I always get meat-sweats after. Exceptional value for money.

185 Bethnal Green Road London E2 6AB Nearest Tube – Bethnal Green

With one shoe dangling

I was walking slowly,

changing my soundtrack

and he stood on my shoe.

So I turned around,

a reflex reaction.

‘Walk on mate.

Walk on.’

So I did.

With one shoe dangling

from my foot.

He walked past me

and told me to cheer up.

So I did.

With one shoe dangling

from my foot.

So I got to thinking,

what if I hadn’t walked on?

And had just stood there

forever.

I’d get nudged,

knocked about

and trampled on.

Forever.

I think he had a point.

I walked on.

Written on a Train

So the endless journey continued

past landscapes and council estates.

burned fields and motorbikes.

I laid down my head

and slept forever.

I missed the willow tree and the theme parks

as I dreamt of victory and curvaceous women

who would never know my name

and never care to ask.

I could transform my dreams

with a change of scenery,

reactivate my motivation

by withdrawing an active chemical.

I could forget my now in-built urges

and do the right thing.

If only I’d allow myself to.

Potential means shit without the graft

and vigour.

I was born an inch from a landmine

(little did I know).

A leg either side,

one step from disaster.

But don’t send in the troops just yet.

Courage and Cowardice

Courage is easier to accept

than cowardice.

I’m the post- apocalyptic beast of sin

and the most pathetic of children.

Catch me on the tube

and you better get out of my way.

Punch me in the face

and I’ll get out of yours.

Barks, bites, empty threats,

I talk a good game.

I’m just going to sit here and hope

my anger is taken the wrong way.

Bluffs, lies, frauds, forgeries.

Honestly.

You thought I was capable of WHAT?

‘Not me, mate. Honest.’

Is this even a contradiction

when it’s so clear to those

who have any clue

that ‘I’m not worth it’?

‘Sorry, mate. Sorry, mate.

Honestly. Didn’t mean anything.

Don’t want no trouble.’

I’ve enough of that, thanks.

The Same

They walk in line, following the same strict code
of what not to wear, how not to speak,
reading the same prescribed print
through the same prescribed lenses.

A grunt of gratitude or apology, an avoidance of eye contact
as they, unknowingly, think the same thoughts
of the same FTSE high flyer and the same near-breaking-point-babe.

Change here for uniformed mediocrity,
The next stationed stop will be indistinguishable.

That man is talking to himself.
That man is Asian.
‘Don’t blow yourself up today, I’ve got a meeting with Claire from New Media
about the Customary Corp. account.’

The same branding, the same blue and white collars, the same attitude.
The same hate, the same adoration.
The same currency.
The same fear, the same lust.
The same.

Eggs

Shopping alone on a Sunday afternoon,

I noticed a product that reminded me of you.

It was eggs

and I hate eggs.

Killa Kela Amplified! Album Launch – 30th September, Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen

It started as an itch and ended like an open sore.

Killa Kela, once a shining light of British hip-hop and along with Rahzel and Kenny Muhammed one of the world’s premier beat-boxers, is a shadow of his former self.

The moment Kela walked on stage I couldn’t help but think of Chris Morris’s portrayal of Shoreditch’s finest plonker, Nathan Barley. He has the same smug nature, the same desperately ‘cool’ persona and the same reeking unlikeability.

Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a very talented man. I can’t beatbox for sh*t and have respect for anyone who can. And he most certainly can. However, there’s a big difference between being able to beatbox and being able to entertain a crowd with it. It’s a solitary game, so much of the onus is on one person; being a likeable chap is paramount. It’s on this count that he fails so miserably.

This, of course, could be overlooked if the standard of his music had remained high. Sadly it hasn’t. It was easy to forget (for me at least, not for him, like I said, we’re talking smugness personified) this is the same man who’s performed with Prince, Pharrell Williams and De La Soul. The tunes from the album were at best mediocre and at worst, cringe-worthy. The ‘covers’ of others were only marginally better. I’ve heard ‘Put Your Hands Up For Detriot’ one too many times already, I could live without hearing the quasi-beatbox remix.

I can only speculate as to why he’s fallen so far. Is it a case of ‘too much, too young’? Possibly. Did he believe the hype? Probably. Did ‘The Lifestyle’ get the better of him? On this evidence, almost definitely. Still, his bird is buff ting!

I left disappointed and slightly irritated. I was determined to look at the positives of the show but when the lights came on and the night was over, I found very few.

Shame.

Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears

It’s an increasingly rare occurrence that a new band excites me. At 27 cynicism has set in and I’ve already found myself getting more kicks from 40 and 50 year old music than much of the tiresome, uninspiring music of today.

Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears are completely different. They play the kind of 60’s garage/soul/R&B that just isn’t being made these days. Not with the same energy, enthusiasm, cool and delivery.

Lewis, the perfect front man, is the kind of guy that makes girls swoon and boys want to emulate him. He doesn’t dress particularly well and he’s not especially good looking, but he’s cooler than you or I could ever dream of being. The obvious comparison is a young James Brown – they definitely share the same sense of passion and soul – and the more rock’n’roll elements might make you think of Jimi Hendrix. I am not even ashamed to make those comparisons because, honestly, they are not in anyway unfair or disrespectful to either of these late-legends.

It’s not all about Lewis though – the band is vitally important. Zach Ernst on guitar is faultless, as is the rather eccentric Ian Varley on keys. Together, the band is remarkably tight. It’s easy to forget that you are listening to bunch of 20 something year old white guys (with the exception of Lewis) and not a band plucked straight out of 1960’s Georgia.

They formed while Lewis was working in a pawn shop in Austin, Texas. Guitarist Ernst booked Lewis to open for Little Richard at a University event. Not a bad opening showcase for Joe.

Their debut album, Tell ‘Em What Your Name Is, is an exceptionally special collection. From the frenetic opener “Gunpowder” to the epic “Get Yo Sh*t”, this album will have your foot aching from involuntary tapping. Perfect horns, perfect keys, perfect rhythm and of course perfect singing. I could name more stand out tracks, but there’s no point – it’s all killer, no filler.

I was lucky enough to be one of about 20 people who caught their first ever UK appearance at the recent Lovebox Festival in Victoria Park. I think I may have been the only person at that fringe stage who had ever heard of them before. Each and every attendee, however, will not forget the show they put on. I looked around midway through their set and couldn’t see anyone who wasn’t completely lost in the remarkably tight music these guys thrash out.

I’ll leave you after saying the following: buy their album, see them live if you get the chance, support this band and dance like you’ve lost all sense of shame. You can thank me later.

Revolutionary Road By Richard Yates. A Review.

Holistically speaking, this collection of pieces of paper has a front, a back (the start and the finish, retrospectively) and lots of words, congregating in the form of sentences, paragraphs and indeed the aforementioned ‘book’, Revolutionary Road.

Comprising of over three uses of ‘the’ and a vast array of other words, Revolutionary Road is conveniently sized in the same shape you may have seen with the likes of ‘Mastiffs (Complete Pet Owner’s Manual)’ and ‘The Rough Guide to Salsa’. Its pages form perfect right-angles and (if the internet buzz is accurate) develop a yellow tinge if exposed to the sunlight for a lengthy period of time.

It’s not all positive though, the bar-code shows a distinct lack of creativity. It’s the same old tired ‘black line, white line, slightly thicker black line, white line’ combination we’ve seen countless times before.

Equally unoriginal is the uninspiring attempt to make this novel appear more cosmopolitan; the price is listed in just UK Pound Sterling and American, Canadian and Australian dollars. Notice a theme there? That’s right; WHITE.

To conclude: ducks. 9/11

Setanta Viewers Left ‘Shocked’ After Sherwood Gaffe

The world of Football punditry was embroiled in yet another faux-pas fury last night when ex-Spurs stallion Tim Sherwood made reference to a brutal sex act during a live broadcast on Setanta Sports.

Commenting on a rash tackle made by Northwich Victoria’s Ryan Brown on Wrexham’s Mike Williams, Sherwood exclaimed: “He’s literally pushed him on the floor, parted his bum cheeks and rammed home his massive throbbing member. He’s not stopped there. He’s pulled out, flipped reversed it and unloaded his love muck all over his ever-gaping mouth hole.’”

Coming just days after Alan Pardew’s now infamous ‘rape’ gaffe, viewers were said to be ‘appalled’ and ‘shocked but, embarrassingly, slightly aroused’ after the comments were broadcast live on air.

At time of press Setanta were investigating 30 complaints, but this figure is widely expected to rise to 8523 as viewers who have been retrospectively offended will call in to register their dismay.

Tim Sherwood has refused to comment on the outburst.