Earlier this week I hooked up with the O’C. He brought with him the first three tracks of the Sadie demo. I was stoked. It sounds fucking awesome. Been listening to it ever since. Some sort of myspace scenario will be sorted very soon, I should think. I’ll keep you posted.
Work sucked today. I did a half-arsed job for eight and a half hours.
More importantly, I’ve decided that from now on, Thursdays are Jeff Flamen days (at least until I run out of material). Co-written by SPW, it’s a romantic comedy involving a magic crack pipe, Belgium, Elvis and Mare Street in Hackney. Jeff Flamen died New Years Eve 1980 in Club Bizarre, NY after taking a hit of the magic crack pipe. Allegedly the pipe was handed to him by Vleermayrs, but confirmation of this remain scarce. It is now the late nineties, and Jeff Suddenly finds himself alive, living in Hackney, accompanied by a dwarf who believes he’s Elvis, and with no tangible clues as to why he’s back. Rumour has it that he was revived by the Feds with DNA taken from the magic crack pipe. Others believe he has been sent back to life to defeat his evil twin brother, Jeff Damen, who has taken over something known as the Leberkaas, somewhere in Belgium. Why this is a bad thing we’ll never know. We join Jeff and his side-kick Hugo, who has just met some friends:
“Whilst out walking in Hackney at roughly 2.30 on a Monday morning, Jeff and Hugo bump into a strange looking Frenchman, dressed in a sailors uniform, and quite blatantly fucked on coke.
“Hey you, mutherfuckin’ queerass sailor, yeah you. Hey! I’m talking to you.” Shouts Jeff.
“Err….oui?”
“Hey, we need to score some drugs you know?”
“Errr….parce-que?”
“Look man, I’m getting fucking desperate here you French wanker, I need a hit now man, y’know wha’I’m sayin’mate?”
“Regard! Je don’t give a flying fuck what you want, je suis Eric le Grande!”
With this, Jeff takes his ceramic dildo and smashes it into the astonished Frenchman’s mouth.
“Now take me to the fucking drugs you god damn crackerass!”
Eric, now slightly bemused, but still completely fucked, leads Jeff and Hugo up a seemingly endless set of stairs. Daubed in red paint on the second to last door they pass are the words, “Fuck You, Whores.” Hugo laughs at this, and in the ensuing chaos, falls all the way down the stairs. They reach the top of the stairs, and go in through a door.
Jeff, Eric and three minor league junkies gather around a small marijuana plantation, inside “Eric’s” flat, warming their hands near the 1000W bulb used for lighting the plants. Eric is trying to open a bag containing roughly 1kg of coke. Jeff is lying on the floor, half smoked spliff in one hand, and crack pipe in the other, and he begins to dream…
…the market-place in the Leberkaas is always busy. All the stalls buzz with activity, and creatures great and small saunter along, leisurely smoking spliffs and heroin. The sound of deranged fish-mongers mingle with the exhilarated joy of streetkids, selling crack on every corner; ‘get your crack here, yessiree, get your crack here!’.
Everything seems peaceful at this moment in the Leberkaas time-space continuum. Although the Leberkaas is a delightful place even on its quietest of days, the action is too slow for Jeff. Tanked up on coke and tequila, he makes his way towards the castle, now and then stopping to ridicule or kick elderly women, the weak or the timid. He doesn’t enjoy doing this, but simultaneously he finds it very hard to envisage what his reality would be like if he didn’t. Suddenly, from across Fenderstrasse, Jeff spots the Prinz. His grace is difficult to miss, being constantly covered in what can only be described as a psychedelic mist, and his clothes are ridiculously gay.
Prinz ! …. Prinz von Lebowitz ! Over here, man. Look over here, buddy - it’s me, Jeff Flamen™!
with these words the crowds falls silent, apart from the sound of a thousand handicapped children clapping frantically at the zenith of their LSD-induced frenzy, whilst on a fieldtrip from Uruguay.
The Prinz, the man, the Lebowitz, unaware of his surroundings at this particular moment in time, decides to urinate on a saddle-maker’s stall, not hesitating to comment on the dire state of the Leberkaas at this day and age. The Prinz von Lebowitz then begins a longer argument regarding an often-overlooked link in terms of progressive masturbation and Nigel Hawthorne, sometimes also known as ‘the lame one’….
…….Jeff wakes up in Eric’s shitty flat, sweating like fuck.
Damn, that was a fucking weird dream, eh? I was in the Leberkaas, hanging out with Flixenflaksen, getting pissed and fucked in a brothel made entirely out of brillopad… and then I smoked some crack with this fucked up guy with a propeller in his back, and then I saw the Prinz…
The Prinz? Does he even exist?”
More next week. Maybe.
