Towns Flood in Xmas Atmos Aftermath Apocalypse

From our Christmas correspondent Michael Mass

It’s after Christmas again and all over the country people rush to buy things after the one-day break from buying things.  Sweeping into ‘chain stores’ and ‘the high street’ like flotsam-packed floodwater people entranced by the ‘magic of Christmas’ rush to spend all they have on whatever they can get, often wasting valuable ‘time’, in the process.

Eek Out

Emboldened by news of ‘current retail spend index news’ and mesmerised by the ‘smart-particles’ buzzing around on adverts, many individuals wander into stores, hoping to eek out a variation in price or style that will place them above their competitors – many of whom they don’t know or have never met. Barging through groups of young children and ‘old people’ and retreating back to their homes or ‘goods caches’, this flotsam laps at the edges of existence like an oily slick slapping against a harbour wall.

People 'heading into town', yesterday.

Human sandbags

A small minority, mostly sheltering  in irrelevant ‘rural’ areas have argued for a different take on Christmas, but have thankfully been drowned out by the crackle and buzz of the Xmas consumer fever. This year, Jed Squib from the group Human Sandbags Against Commerce (HSBC) has rallied his team to stand up against the tide – with no results. Said Squib, “All three of us feel strongly about this and our recent action at the Worcester  Clintons showed we can do it, our human sandbags stopped at least 5 people from entering the store”

The Worcester Clintons yesterday

Smiling Drone

Analysis retail Paul Shit from the tank think, Patent Spending viewed the issues this Christmas as particularly noteworthy in the unbridled greed stakes. “The bridles off now, let’s ride the twin horses of fate and destiny into the chasm of useless gack”, he stated as he handed his credit card to another smiling drone.

Buying things ‘now unstoppable’

From our woman at the till Barbara Code

Bank Holiday Monday and the retail parks of the UK look like overrun insect nests. Pouring through the doors like bipedal slurry, the chattering saps that make-up the inhabitants of the UK’s towns and cities rush to make a ‘string of purchases’, lapping up ‘must haves’ and ‘essentials’ and augmenting their buys with ‘little somethings’ and ‘treats’.

Could you run me in? 

Cries of ‘I just need a few bits’, ‘could you run me in to town?’ and ‘just nipping to the shops’ have become mantras for a debased and struggling idea called ‘Western Civilisation’ a creeking structure that despite years of service looks set to collapse amid mountains of debt and tat.

Other people 

Many buy in to lifestyles that other people have that they were told about by some other people in an attempt to be seen by other people as having the other peoples lifestyle. Other people simply buy anything they can, emptying bank accounts and draining credit on a mountain of useless gack. Specialist retail tank think Paul Shit was forthright about the problem. “This is simply blind madness that will end life on earth as we know it” he said scanning his Nectar card in the morning sun.

Flyer for forthcoming Meridian 2011 conference - Click to read, see you there you lemmings.

I'm sure you all remember the Newby Chruch Ghost from the Reverend K.F Lord's c.1960 photograph. Well, a recent sighting in Devon prompted a look through the Clothface Archives, which revealed a 16th C siting as well. Here he is, 'through the ages....

Ever bought six can's of low-grade lager for £5. We have.

The 6 for 5 rap.

When you’ve been slaving 9 to 5
It’s nice to get home with 6 for 5
At the four o’clock drop, everything stop
Cos you thinkin’ it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss

Chorus -
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5

But hangabout, I only want two
Maybe tomorrow I’ll pay what’s due
But for now, I’ll just take a couple
Cos 6 for 5 it ain’t worth the trouble

6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5

But no, he’s hollerin clear
The strains of his battle cry loud in my ear
What’s his problem, he don’t make no loss
But still, it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss

6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5

So now I’m leaving with a bulging sack
It ain’t what you think, it’s beer in me pack
Going home now to drink till eleven
Little does he know, that I took 7

6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5

Repeat chorus to fade....

Koza and Effect – The story of a Polish goat.

Chapter I - Sweet Destiny

You’ve seen the pictures below, and marvelled endlessly I’m sure at the primal beauty of the Koza himself. But where is he from, why is he here and am I ashamed to have wrenched him howling from his native land? In forcing him to become part of a two-bit website with beans and the sidekick to a dead-end dj peddling unknown-but-there’s-a-reason-for-that second rate pub-rock, have I not sullied the creative, elemental forces that shaped him?

After a recent Polish news interviewed me to get the lowdown on the Koza and the story behind his coming to England, I decided it was time to set the record straight and get on with my life. Damocles’s sword has been hanging over me for so long, Damocles himself is bored of not knowing. Poor Damocles, ever since he pulled that lion out of his mousse, things haven’t been the same. But I Tigress.

Zywiec Museum sits, interestingly and thankfully, in the nearby town of Zywiec. Zywiec is roughly 40 kilos from the distant town of Bielska-Biala –the town of two rivers. Zywiec, as any stag night lout who has wandered naked through the streets of Krakow will know, is home to Poland’s most refreshing beer – Zywiec. Pronounced Jivee-ets, Zywiec is particularly noteworthy for it’s charming central squares where at easter, markets selling small painted birds and wooden eggs spring up. Just off one of this squares, through a park, lies the museum itself, a classical building of some grandeur. Huge stone rooms full of exhibits, some fascinating, others only mildly so fill Zywiec Museum, whilst the lack of visitors makes it feel like any other display of regional tat. But unlike The Sidmouth Sock Museum or The Chipping Sodbury Museum of Horse Parts, Zywiec Museum had an interesting exhibition on. An exhibition of such rare character and such animal magnetism that it struck a chord deep within all who attended. Even me.

For there, amidst a collection of polish archetypes hewn from wood and cloth, was a huge dog wrapped in tartan, a conical canine idiot with a maw like the entrance to a Swiss railway tunnel. Gaping, beckoning, the mouth hung open in silent yelp as if to invite one in. I was smitten.

Of course it was no dog, it was a goat; a Koza, as they say in Poland.

This was an extraordinary moment, a waterfall of epiphanies washed over me, the possibilities rang multitudinously in my ears like sea-shells murmuring of the ocean and the secrets of it’s hidden depths. Everyone was leaving the museum now, but I couldn’t go, couldn’t leave. I raced back up the steps for one last look at my daft, joyous pal. It did not go unnoticed, this mad distemper that had struck me down and made me fall impetuously, madly in love. Zosia and Jacek, who had been kind enough to take me and my lady to the museum in the first place were quick to act. But I, as yet, had no idea what they might be up to.

Unbeknown to me at the time, Zosia had contacted the curator of the museum, one Barbara Rosiek. Rosiek had orchestrated the gorgeous smorgasboard of authentic polish folkcraft that had so enchanted me and it was she who had made the Koza pride of place in the exhibition and dressed the beaming sod in a tartan blanket for warmth and effect. Zosia & Rosiek, I learned later, spoke of the Koza and Rosiek had given Zosia the name and address of the maker of all the exhibits – it was a name that would come to mean much in the coming year. Josef Hulka.

Sweet destiny, riding the twin horses of good fate and humble kindness, had ridden straight into my camp at nightfall, ripped open my feeble shelter and delivered a precious seed. Wheels were now in motion that could not be stopped and I, holding the seed delicately between thumb and forefinger, looked out across a horizon which held, instead of our great sun, the mouth of the Koza.

Chapter 2 to follow soon – stay tuned.

Zarebski & Koza rock The Green Man Festival


After the dynamite set, Koza met some of his diehard fans


Concentrate you fool - Koza berates his idiot sidekick Zarebski


Another set completed - Koza heads of to the bar for his favourite Polish vodka - Teatowelski.
A blend of glacial vodka strained through old teatowels for 8 years.

Koza caught on film

A special 1.12 minute documentary has been made of the Koza's alreadly legendary appearance at The Green Man Festival - find it here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU7d7rY75Ho

More pics and full report to follow.

DJ Koza rips up garden party

The Koza has been doing some DJing down at the Secret Garden Party in Cambridgeshire.
After signing autographs at the 'Pagoda', Koza played a diverse set that included 'Kozmir' by Led Zeppelin, 'Clever Koza' by Ian Dury and the Blockheads and the finale 'Goat El it on the Mountain' by an unknown redneck banjo player. A fine hoedown was had by all.

After dancing with revellers, the Koza was then strangled with bunting and mobbed before being whisked into the waiting car. He was lucky to escape with only one minor injury and a small nail should fix that.

His next engagement is at The Green Man Festival in Wales.



"Play the one about the Green Eyed-Monster" - The Koza and his humble assistant Zarebski



Impersonations were, of course, common, but no-one does Koza like Koza.



"Excuse me, you're strangling the DJ"



"Gasping for breath after the bunting ordeal. Concerned onlookers wonder about medical assistance but he's up and
about in no time.

The coming of a new age. The age of the Koza.

The story of the Koza is long and winding, and for another time. Suffice to say that the first one published below was the spark for a journey that would take me into the depths of the Polish countryside looking for it's creator. When I found him I asked him if he would make another Koza for me. He did and one year later I returned to Poland to meet him and bring him home. Together we returned to England to allow him to sample life away from the windswept plains of Southern Poland.

His coming is significant, and marks nothing less than the beginning of a new religion. He is all knowing, all powerful and he is so beautifully daft, he will blow you away.

I need not ask for your silence, nor for your reverence. He demands it in ways unsaid and unheard. He is your master. He is the Koza - you need search no more.

In the arms of his maker, the Polish folk artist genius, Mr Josef Hulka.

In the departure lounge at Katowice airport the waiter asked him what he was having. He had the usual of course, a shot of the finest polish vodka with a side-salad of apple, cress and tea towels.

Heading for England, the Koza sees clouds from above for the first time.

Arrival....excitement and disbelief after having been locked in the aircraft toilet for take-off and landing.

The Koza is at rest for a few weeks before heading out into London for a series of state functions and happenings. More of his adventures and his incredible life story to follow soon. Stay tuned.

Overhearings from the belly of the beast

"I fired off an e-mail to see what the state-of-play was"

"Our customers need a solution that works"

"We manage expectations, but nobody's managing our expectations"

"We currently have 50 engineers working on the problem"

"I'm in a position to prioritise these actions"

"Could you just pop-up the actual, physical website"

'Just gotta get some brain food'

"Less Jar-Jar, less 3PO - good for me"

"I'm hearing good mood music about it but there's no point stirring the mud'

Nightmare on Liverpool Street

A half-witted bunch of PR turnips are recovering tonight after a terrifying ordeal at the hands of a rival gang of office mutants.

Expensive drinks

Given confidence by ‘expensive drinks’ and ‘finger food’, the mutants, fresh from a wasteful and useless ‘exercise’ baited the turnips as they came through the gates at the famed eastend station.

Nibbles

Some turnips splintered and ran for a nearby buffet bar while others, emboldened by sanctimonious drivel and smug hype, decided to take the fight to the mutants and taunted them with a barrage of ringtones and hold music.

Who is who?

The mutenips ran for cover, only to find gaggles of corphags waiting at the entrance, some with corporate ladders in their tights. The corphags joined the fight and station guards were called to break up the ruckus. Two of the turnips where seen trapped in the gates to the tube, bleating like sheep that their ‘oysters’ didn’t work.

Order was restored by laying on cheap wine and plastic food at an overlit, garish and downright hideous coffee emporium nearby.

Resignation letter

If you must quit your mindless career to grow organic vegetables in Somerset,

at least do it with some feeling.

Simply fill in the blanks, sign and deliver by hand.

Dear ……..,


Please accept this letter as an indication of two month's notice of me leaving the …….. Pond. I have become utterly sick of the mindless drivel that passes for conversation in here and in the past year have almost commited suicide due to the archaic and draconian bullshit that has been bulldozed in my direction. I wish to state, furthermore, that ………. is akin to a silage pit full of worms during a particularly hot summer, festering like an open wound on the side of the earth. I hope you agree.

I would like to take this golden opportunity to wish you all the best in your daily search for clams and would like to make you a gift of this framed print entitled, ' The Wanking Walrus'.

Yours faithlessly etc,

...................................

Plum Sawing

18th Plum-Sawing Championships kick off in style.

From our reporter S.K Marks

Special 'gilt-edged' towels will be used at this years annual Plum-Sawing Championships, being held deep in the cleft of the Peach Mountain range of Southern England.


The towels have raised eyebrows in the plum-sawing fraternity since they were introduced in open competition in 1996. Many competitors claim that the Ooh factor is diminished by the edging as it 'rides up' too easily. These claims have been dismissed by the German manufacturers Giltenbotton Plomhack who claim no ill effects from prolonged sawing. Spokesperson Holda Clench issued a statement to the press yesterday claiming "Our towels comply to international Plum-Sawing specifications. The gilt edging is there to give the spectators and judges a 'clean line' of sight along the towel and to increase the 'yelp factor' for competitors".

Yelping

Competitors will be judged on the 5 golden disciplines of strenuousness, depth of towel, leg height, sighing and yelping and will be marked by a team of expert judges flown in from across the world. Top judge Wilhelm Grape was confident of a high level of competition. "It should be pretty interesting , many of the new crop of sawers should be hitting the right spots this year", he said, tugging at his cleft and wistfully looking into the distance. Sighing plaintively will probably be the major battleground though a willingness to show mild gratification whilst sawing will also score heavily.

Foxtails

Judges will be on the lookout this year for illegal 'foxtailing'. Last year 7 top competitors, mostly from the UK were disqualified for this revolting practice that has been dubbed, the 'arse-end' of the sport. Stakes are usually high on the underground circuit and many plum-sawing wannabes are lured into the shadowy world of foxtailing for the money and free towels.

Corporate Lemming News - Centaur Park Re-opens

Centaur Park gets ready for the summer season – from our man on the ground Filligree Poncencock

London's most celebrated centaur meeting place, 'Centaur Park' was officially opened for the summer yesterday in a ceremony attended by the City's top Centaurs.

Shelves

With arses sticking out like shelves, some a full 12 inches deep, the head Centaurs made a series of dull, unfunny speeches, punctuated by insipid corporate babble that left the crowd braying for more.

Strutting cocks

Like a bunch of strutting cocks, the majority of the centaurs looked on, tucking into 'deli' sandwiches, 'food to go' and pre-packaged gack in an effort to increase shelf size. Those who weren't hungry just slurped on Macchicapuspressolatte Grandes, kindly supplied by the nearby 'On the Hoof' coffee shop.

Useless


Useless pieces of plastic, printed with company names were lapped up freely by the slavering centaurs who enjoyed a full 1 hour off work for the celebrations before trotting gamely back to their 'phones' and 'workstations'.

Centaur park is open daily and is also known as Finsbury Square Nr Moorgate.

Corporate Lemming News - NEWSFLASH - 07/06/06

Lemming pleasantries rejected
By our reporter Herbie Vorthree

Phrases today commonplace in our foyers and office complexes the world over are to be phased out in line with new behaviour studies that indicate that the laws of perpetual ignorance have been plaguing our workplaces since time immemorial.

Oh it was ok, thanks.

"How was your weekend?", "it's warm today isn't it?" and "what are you up to this evening?" are just some of the, mindless comments that pass for office interaction nowadays and top Lemming psychologist Gilbert Cockring is worried about the effect on our culture. "These freaks might as well be talking about paint that's already dry", he said, "Why can't they talk about something interesting.for a change, like sugar mice or the fundamentals of paleo-archeology.

And Yours?

He has a point, but for many, the thinly veiled drivel that is spouted across a million desks and phones everyday is fundamental to their 'way of life' and fits perfectly into their 'lifestyle choices'.

Bandied by Lemmings

Downtime, 'synergising creative flow' and 'muffin skunk' are just some of the terms now commonplace in our office buildings which are bandied around by lemmings in an effort to screen a distinct lack of social ability when talking to colleagues.

Cockrings tightening

Dr Cockring has tightened the rules of office engagement by supplying bosses and workers with new guidelines to help them adjust to a life without these banal pleasantries – phrases like 'No, actually I'm depressed", "you look terrible this morning" and "you f*cking w*nker" are said by Cockring to possess elements of what he calls, 'the utterable truth' – based on new-age philosophies from somewhere abroad.

Bow in reverence to the Koza

The distinguished Koza, third imperial ruler of Poland.

Misanthropy Thread #2

This ones in time to Morning Has Broken - that fine hymn- and contains some obscure, though fascinating references that may be tracked via complex signals and signs in a kind of 'Da Vinci code' type manner in the Sunday supplement magazine adverts for lifelike dolls and plates with pictures of Native American chiefs on called 'Spirit of the Breath of the Howling Wolf of Time' - or somesuch. Good luck on your quest...

The Centaurs are here, they are everywhere and they run our world. This is their song.

Centaurs awaken, Centaurs of London
Prepare for the journey, onward we march
Stick out your arse cheeks, stick out your headsets
Let everyone know what an arsehole you are

Marching together, a flotsam of losers
Centaurs are trotting, millions strong
Arses like sofas, manners like goats they
Chatter and scoff like the insects they are

Mine is the Centaur, mine is the Lemming
Born of the skunks arse out from the beak
Snorting their powder, flashing their plastic
These jokers need culling, pass me the sword.

Koza - Looking relaxed on a recent state visit