Hair Day

Just saw a bloke with officially the worst hairdo of all time. He was about 26, ginger and balding. His take on addressing (re-dressing?) the last two ailments had been to shave the back of his head, grow a turfy quiff at the front, and add medium sized sideburns which were a completely different colour (really orange) and texture (like astro turf) to the rest of his head hair. He looked like a monk and an orangutan's love child. (I am aware that three of my six readers are a bit touchy about the old bald deal, so I will not go on about it any more, but Mr Ginger really had put a lot of thought into his baldness, and made himself look like a complete zigoid. Mind you, I am currently sporting the sad middle-aged man grows his hair hairdo, a particular agenda that mrs househusbandnot has quite a lot to say about having just had a great new haircut herself.)

Speaking of hair, did I mention that I went to the Prince After Show gig on Saturday?

In other news, was watching Nigella Lawson's new show last night - I don't know what it is called, Nigella's Chocolate Knickers or something - and I got to thinking that she really must have signed a pact with The Devil. She is deeply untalented and unengaging but still keeps popping up for more. Actually, maybe her whole family got a Satan Family Reward Scheme.

Others who may well have taken this route to success by signing up with Old Red Fork Tail:

1) Ant and Dec
2) People who have organised the tube strike this week. (How do they get away with it again and again and again? My bus to work this morning was like trying to commute into Bombay.)
3) Those people who paint themselves gold or silver and stand still on the pavement. (When was that ever entertainment please? But people give them money.)
4) People who design computer printers. (They do not work, but we just keep blaming ourselves and buying new ones.)
5) Dr John (obviously)
6) David Walliams
7) The Pope (He has to doesn't he, so he and The Devil know the deal. Actually, maybe he signs a slightly different contract. More of a Memo Of Understanding with promises to mention each other at meetings, and no stealing each other's thunder at Easter and stuff.)
8) Whoever invented the sandwich. (As mentioned by %^& before the Prince gig the other night, sandwiches are just so not where it is at but we keep buying them and talking about them.)
9) Francis Bacon (although I reckon he was a bit pissed and didn't read the small print about being miserable all his life and having terrible hair days every day forever.)
10) And people who write musicals. ("Okay. Let me get this right. One soul, my soul, and all I have to do to become rich as buggery is to use four chords and get my mentally frail aunt to write a few lyrics about it being dark and then the sun coming out? Bring it on Dr D."

So there.

After Show Show

Well yes, there is some truth that I have been a little pre-occupied with the Xbox since I got it last week. (Out for a drink with mrs househusbandnot the other night, I was saying that I just didn’t have time to write hhn at the moment. And she said “Waddaya mean? You got time for a pint. You got time for your friggin’ Xbox.” mrs hhn as Ray Winstone shocker.)

So apologies (of sorts), but have had a good break from hhn, and I guess we should be preparing ourselves for Madame B’s return (To form? Hmm.)

In other news, actually managed to see Prince at one of his After Shows on Saturday night. Having already trekked along to one of these After Shows and been forced to watch Dr John (who remains deeply dull), I was trying not to get too excited this Saturday. But by around 11.00pm I was bouncing around the walls of %^&’s flat eager to get over to the O2. We got there around 12.30, and were just getting a drink in the venue, and %^& was grilling some innocent bar girl about IF Prince did come on, what time did he usually come on, when…Prince came on stage.

And played for two hours. I’ve checked a few official and unofficial Prince-related sites, and I don’t want to turn into too much of a purple geek, but it was absolutely extraordinary. (If you want details of the set list, you can go to any of the sites and check it. My login is hhn and password is purplegeek.) It was just ridiculously good, with Prince axing his ass off surrounded by some or all or half of The NPG etc. (I find Maceo Parker a bit too jazzist, but his extended sax solos kinda worked.)

One of the things that does really get me about being a Prince fan is other Prince fans. Apart from the odd hot chick, one of whom I had a chat with about her Prince tambourine, most people in the 2,000 odd audience were real tossers. There was one old MILNF in front of %^& and I just talking through all the songs. (“Didn’t I tell you he’d be great. This is so great. I am so great. Must remember to log onto MenWhoLikeSeeingPicturesOfOldCockneyRotters.org when I get home. Here luv, get us another pint of Stella” etc.) And a bunch of old white taxi drivers. And a few Germans, and me and %^&. %^& was wondering if Prince must be frustrated by how unfunky and white his audience is.

Anyway, despite rest of audience, had a great time. It’s up there in top five best gigs I’ve been to. (Others would include The Clash on the London Calling tour, Tricky and Lee Perry at The Festival Hall, Van Morrison at the Corn Exchange in Stoke before he turned into a full-time jazz loser, and Siouxsie And The Banshees at Blackburn Town Hall on their first national tour. [Naturally, I am managing not to mention some of the truly dreadful and unhip gigs I have been to in my life. Paul Simon, Level 42 anyone?])

So all Princeness restored, and I have now officially forgiven him for not showing at the first After Show. And I still have a main show of his to go and see with my sister in a week or so.

I have not much other news, other than the fact that I bailed out of my own birthday party before any of our guests had left, which was a bit embarrassing. (I blame the vodka smoothies, as designed by The Waunch aka Mr Flowers.)

C U 2MRw