Be Llŷrious

That’s Llŷr up there, my best friend, and today would have been that rock God’s birthday, so it seems only right that I share another memory of him.

I’ve been wanting to share this one for a while, but couldn’t quite work out how to write it so that it “works” as a written piece. I’ve ended up writing it Memento style, in reverse chronological order. Bear with me.

The story can actually be split into two separate events, and I wasn’t with Llŷr for either of them. Nevertheless, I think it pretty much sums up our relationship: always wanting to make the other one laugh, even if we weren’t actually in the presence of the other to witness it happening. Don’t worry, it will all make sense in the end.

When writing this, I was indebted to Llŷr’s older sister, Hel, who was with him for one part of the story, and who filled in the blanks for me as to what was going on and why I received the text from Llŷr that starts this story off.

To set the scene: we were living in the Flat of Filth at the time; Hel and I think it was before he got ill. Llŷr had travelled up to That London to visit Hel, leaving me high, hosed and happy all alone back in Cardiff. Don’t take that the wrong way, for as much as I loved living with him, when you live with someone – anyone – we all love a little bit of alone time every now and again.

My night of self-loving was interrupted by a text from Llŷr:

“Dude, can you think of something rude to shout at Kasabian?”

Of course I could, but I figured he had probably exhausted those possibilities already.

Over to you, Hel. If you could start off by explaining where the hell you were and why, that’d be grand:

“We were in KOKO’s in Camden. Spencer [a friend and former flat-mate of Hel’s] knew a girl who worked on The Album Chart Show which I think went out on Channel 4. They’d have a few bands on, doing one song from their current album, and one band doing about five songs. Me and Spencer saw Primal Scream doing this, and when tickets came up for Kasabian doing the same, Llŷr and I jumped at the chance, as we thought it would be hilarious.”

Just for the record: Hel, Llŷr and I are all of the opinion that all Kasabian records are absolute dog-dirt so you can read on without fear of me actually posting anything by them.

“During maybe a rubbish band [other than Kasabian] or a break in performances, me and Llŷr went to the top floor bar because it was quieter and easier/quicker to get served. We went to the balcony and who should be filming an interview but Tom and Serge [from Kasabian]. They were sitting on a sofa, and the interviewer was on another sofa, facing them. Me and Llŷr sat a bit behind the interviewer’s sofa and tried to think of things to do to put them off.”

It was probably at roughly this point that Llŷr must have sent the aforementioned text.

I’m sorry to say that my comedy chops let me down on this occasion; all I could come up with, which was neither big nor clever, was to suggest he might mouth the C-bomb at them.

“We started doing rude signs at them behind the interviewer’s back, pointing and laughing, and I think Llŷr may have mouthed the C-bomb at them. Initially they ignored us, but they got more and more agitated and so the production team asked us to leave because we were distracting them. Obviously, we found this hilarious, and could barely walk, we were laughing so much.”

And right there you have the reason everyone loved him so much: he never stopped being that cheeky little boy, acting up and trying to make his friends laugh whenever he could.

(In July 2020, Tom left Kasabian by mutual consent, having admitted to physically assaulting his then-fiancee. The use of the C-bomb, mouthed or otherwise, is therefore entirely justified and correct.)

But, other than friendship and our trust that the other would come up with something, what had prompted Llŷr to text me to seek guidance on ways to upset Kasabian?

Well, let me take you back a few weeks before his trip to That London. Llŷr had gone to a gig on his own – he’d asked me, and doubtless several other friends, if we wanted to accompany him, but none of us did, so off he trotted off all on his lonesome.

The band he went to see was Jimmy Eat World, and about an hour or so after he left the Flat of Filth, I received a text from him:

Dude, I think I’m the oldest person here. What can I do that will make me seem younger and cooler?

Easy, I replied. Make it look like you’re there ironically. Maybe start a chant of Jimmy Eats Cock?

I never said it was a clever answer.

A couple of hours later, he barrelled back into the flat.

“You bastard!” he said, smiling.

“Me? What did I do now?” I protested innocently.

“After you sent that text, that was all I could think of. I was worried all night in case I accidentally shouted it out and got lynched by a bunch of teenage girls.”

Sorry dude.

But now we had yet another private joke: whenever we were out and the DJ played something by Jimmy Eat World – and it would always be this tune (although apparently they have others) – one of us would hoik a thumb in the direction of the DJ and ask the other: “Who’s this again?”

Jimmy Eat World – The Middle

If you’ve been affected by any of the issues raised in this post, and wish to offend pop stars of a similar standing to Kasabian, then please use the Comments facility to seek guidance and reassurance.

Happy Birthday, dude. Miss you.

More soon.

It’s Chriiiistmas!!!

So I took last night off. Can’t have you getting used to me posting every day, now can we?

Anyway, last night was my night to get all my Christmas wrapping done. Another job ticked off the list.

Now, where were we?

Oh yes, we finished off the last little instalment with Run DMC.

Which means there’s only one place for us to start today’s batch of Christmas tunes:


The Waitresses – Christmas Wrapping

Obligatory tenuous link/terrible joke out of the way, I thought the rest of the posts today could be cover versions of Christmas songs.

Now I’m not saying these are better than the originals, just…well, y’know…they’re not the originals.

First up, one that I can guarantee is 100% Linda-free:


The Shins – Wonderful Christmastime

Now, what would Christmas be, without the omniprescent turkey necked arm-waving God botherer that is Sir Cliff? Well, stick around and you’ll find out. Here’s a cover of one of his festive hits, which as far as I can make out has never been commercially released (hence the absence of a sleeve):

Idlewild – Mistletoe & Wine

Next up, masters of the slightly odd yet distinctive cover version, I give you (guaranteed Yoko-less, thankfully):


The Polyphonic Spree- Happy Xmas (War is Over)

I was reading the other day about Andy Park, self-styled “Mr Christmas” who claims to celebrate Christmas every day. Between 1993 and 2001 (when he was told by his doctor to stop being such a bloody arse) he claims to have eaten a turkey sandwich and mice pies for breakfast every day (hang on – if he’s eating turkey sandwiches, then surely he should be calling himself Mr Boxing Day?), then goes to work (in a grotto, presumably), returning to eat a full roast turkey dinner, then watching a recording of the Queen’s speech whilst imbibing a glass of sherry. In 2006, Park claimed that he had eaten: 4,380 turkeys, 87,600 mince pies, 2,190 pints of gravy, 26,280 roast potatoes, 30,660 stuffing balls, 4,380 bottles of champagne, 4,380 bottles of sherry and 5,000 bottles of wine.

He had also sent himself 235,500 Christmas cards. Yes, sent himself.

I think it’s fair to say that Andy Park needs to get out more. Except he probably can’t, the ginormous gutted gluttonous twat.

Anyway, many of his claims just so happened to be made at round about the same time as he just so happened to be releasing a single called “It’s Christmas Every Day”, so most of what I have just written is probably just self-promoting guff. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the video featured Cliff-wannabe and former Radio 1 DJ (no, not that one. Or that one) and purveyor of jaw-droppingly dreadful “UKIP Calypso”, Mike Read.

Anyway, Mr So-Called-Christmas, it isn’t Christmas Every Day, because if it was then Ash wouldn’t have been able to do this:


Ash – I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday

Oh go on then, I’ll let you have a gander at the original of that one:

I wonder if there is a direct correlation between the increase in the number of songs which feature children, or children’s choirs, appearing on Top of the Pops, and the decline in religious belief and faith. I ask simply because if you were an 8 year-old trapped in a television studio with Jimmy Savile, I think you’d fairly quickly come to the conclusion that God doesn’t exist.

Anyway, I digress.

Something a little more traditional next. Here’s Weezer, giving a Christmas carol the Weezer treatment, by which I mean making it sound like Weezer:


Weezer – Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

Just needs the occasional “woo-hoo” to make it sound almost identical to their ace “Buddy Holly” single. And I suppose since there’s mention of Holly there gives me a good enough excuse to play the not in the least bit Christmassy video:

Next, two versions of the same song. First up, a group who will forever be known as Jimmy Eats Cock round my way, and I think there are possibly only two people who read this blog occasionally who will remember why. Happy Christmas to both of you.


Jimmy Eat World – Last Christmas

Next, well it’s credited as being by the group that he has fronted for the what will be thirty years come 2016, appearing as it does on their B-sides and Rareties compilation “Lipstick Traces”. But if my memory serves me correctly, it was actually recorded during a performance in the studio bar on “TFI Friday” (don’t get me started….) by a solo James Dean Bradfield:


Manic Street Preachers – Last Christmas (live)

Regular readers will know that I spent a good few years living in Wales, and that last one has me pining for the valleys. So I’ll wrap things up with something undisputedly Welsh and Christmassy:


The Massed Male Choirs of Treorchy, Morriston Orpheus & Pontarddulais With The Band Of The Welsh Guards – Deck the Halls

More soon.