TOS

fEBruary 2008

inside this week

murdoch in armenia :: the greatest love xi :: the art of the mix tape :: the best places to be on the northern line this week ::

Letter from the Editor

People who’ve died in the last year include Jeremy Beadle and Prince Pedro Gastão of OrléansBraganza both of whom were great pretenders: Beadle used to pretend he was funny and Pedro was the great pretender to the throne of Brazil. Good news is The Other Side hasn’t died or stopped pretending, we’ve grown quite a bit instead. In February last year we printed 100 copies of our magazine and handed them out to a bunch of rather bemused commuters at Highgate station. Today we are handing out 2000 copies at...wait for it...THREE stations.

It’s not been easy; there have been times where we’ve all wanted to stay in bed, times where people have shouted abuse at us, and times where the station master has told us to shove off their property. But we think it’s all been worth it – we’ve grown up, we’ve got a proper website, we’ve got a proper sub editor, we’ve got a proper designer and best of all we’ve got friendly chappies handing out the beautiful mags at your station offering you quick witted statements such as;

“It’s better than reading the adverts and the tube map” “it’s more interesting than the sweat patches on the “person opposite you “...etcetera

It’s also February – and we’ve packed in a few matters of love that will do you good to use throughout the year not just on St Valentine’s Day – recipes, mix tapes and some other bits and pieces. Our award-winning travel writer Dan Murdoch has been trying his luck against armed men on the Armenian borders and we’ve even got some old fashioned tips on how to dump your man.

As ever there’s the best things to do in and around the Northern Line and there’s still time to enter our competition to win a trip to the EuropaVox festival in France in the summer.

Please keep supporting us and we’ll keep giving it back to you. - ed.

Edited by Sam and Adam in their lunch break, designed by Becca at Breakfast and Webstuff

by Ben, monitored by Pete. Other Contributors include Nico, Dan, Rick, Chiara, Ed, Dave and Matt.

love train, bad idea man?....

Mix tape

7 Stops (where we think you should be) a little bit of culture

No girls allowed and

How to get out of trouble (HER)

How to get out of trouble (HIM) 1950s style

Warzone Rambler

Back of a bus

How to dump your man

Nico Pico

to win festival tickets logon to our website www.theothersidemag.co.uk

Probably the most exciting thing to happen this Valentines Day. We’ve sent some foxy reporters onto a few trains to try and help you find true love...or at least a date. Look out for them giving out special gifts on some southbound Northern Line The Carnaby Kiss exhibition: carriages.

The Carnaby Gallery is looking for the very best ‘kisses’ to appear in a forthcoming photographic exhibition by fashion photographer Gregg Stone.

Inspired with his own recreation of the famous Robert Doisneau ‘Kiss’ photograph taken outside the Hotel de Ville, Paris in 1950, this exhibition will feature a diverse selection of people kissing in Carnaby, from the traditional to the avant-garde.

If you want to have your kiss featured in the show then make your way down to Carnaby Street on Thursday 14th February from 12 - 4pm where Gregg will be looking for the final images to be placed in the exhibition.

Everyone who is photographed will be entered into a free prize draw to win a romantic weekend for two in Carnaby, including an overnight stay at the 5 star Courthouse Hotel Kempinski and dinner at the Royal Thai restaurant Benja.

The Carnaby Gallery, 1 - 2 Carnaby Street, Open 14 Feb - 16 Mar / 11am-6pm

Bad Idea Man 1 Saw off both your arms and replace them with twigs 2 Try to poison your husband with antifreeze 3 writing a love poem 4 quitting your job to set up a magazine 5 taking out a mortgage 6 A religious leader with a nut allergy 7 Becoming Facebook friends with your ex / boss 8 Being a Spurs fan 9 kebabs 10 Carling / Carlsberg 11 speed 12 kettamine 13 cycling in London 14 eating pigeon 15 being a vegetarian 16 being a vegan 17 flying to Paris editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

The Art of the Mix Tape Nostalgia. It ain’t what it used to be... Old joke, but one that always makes me feel a bit funny in my stomach. We’re at a time where you can store an entire music collection on a stylish sliver of white, download (steal) every possible genre of music you can think, and pull together a collection of music for your friends by dragging, clicking and burning... My point? Well, wither the art of the mix tape, for surely it has, if not died, mutated into something so easy and throwaway it has scant value in these fast times of ours. Rose tinted spectacles put to one side, all the dragging and burning and podding have invigorated the art of the compilation to some extent, but they have left it an affair without rules or restrictions. No boundaries. It is too easy. I remember tearing my hair out because the two songs I wanted to put together were at different volumes, one copied from tape and one from CD. Even worse, in these days of shuffle - you can get a computer to do it for you. A compilation has no value any more.

Not that it was ever truly valued. If anything it always had a bit of joke reputation. Compiled by (in the most part) forlorn, swaying, indie shoe gazers (such as I)... standard practice being: meet a girl, slowly become acquaintances, build yourself up to ask her out but never do, finally make her mix tape to convey all your hidden feelings for her and show her how cool your taste is... repeat until she gets bored that you never make a move or rebuffs you when you do maintaining that she’d rather be “just friends”.

So you move on, music collection getting ever stronger, richer and deeper. Ready.

Waiting for the next girl to fall under its spell. Despite all this, and the fact that tape-to-tape hi-fis are harder to find than than a great 2 min 20 song to go on the end

of side B, not only do I want to romanticise the humble compilation, but I want to bring it back goddamit. Friends of mine didn’t just come up with a perfect tracklisting, they’d create an amusing collage to go on the front of tape case. Lacking any artistic skill I resorted to giving each tape an amusing name - Return of the Compilation, The Compilation Strikes Back... How to Make Mix Tapes and Influence People... no pun was left unturned. Hunched over the buttons, CDs strewn around the room, the hum and whirr of the tape deck underscoring the recording of each song. And then trying to write the tracklisting in between those tiny lines, those annoyingly long titles forcing you onto two lines and ruining the symmetry of the whole thing. And then you smudge the bloody ink and if she sees that she’ll think I just slung this together and she won’t like it and she’ll hate me and if I put on Creep by Radiohead will she think that’s about me?

Who wouldn’t want to bring that back?

THE RULES Making a mix tape is a lot like making love to a beautiful women... you’ve got to grab their attention with a pacey opening, dial it down so you don’t blow your load, mix the pace up but without jarring time changes and you have to finish before they get bored. More importantly it needs rules: No using a band twice ::: Don’t use obscure b-sides ::: No hit singles ::: Always start quiet but compelling ::: The second song should be a balls-to-thewall stormer ::: Keep it under 5 mins per song. No god Speed or Mogwai ::: You should segue from a straight up rock song to a dance track via a slightly dancey rock song ::: Always include something from Van Morrison ‘Astral Weeks’ ::: Steer clear of ‘Why don’t we do it in the road?’ by the Beatles...and ‘Nothing lasts forever’ by Echo and the Bunnymen ::: Prince is only arousing to himself.

Birds Fly Backwards • Ed Harcourt ::: Blonde on Blonde • Nada Surf ::: Fear no Pain • Willy Mason ::: No Fear of Falling • I am Kloot ::: Lilac Wine • Jeff Buckley ::: Hey Rabbit • Fionn Regan ::: Caught by the River • Doves ::: First Day of my Life • Bright Eyes ::: Stupid Memory • Sondre Lerche ::: Summer Skin • Death Cab for Cutie

M Ward • Poison Cup ::: The Rolling Stones • Lets’s spend the night together ::: The Cure • Close to You ::: Herman Dune • That will never happen ::: Joanna Newsom • Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie ::: Evan Dando • Hard Drive ::: Mercury Rev • Tonite it shows ::: Rufus wainwright • Peach Trees ::: Wilco • Jesus etc. ::: Elliot Smith - Say Yes

Our Editor Sam’s Side A

Our Illustrator Matt’s Side B

2

When you’re 18 there’s nothing pant wettingly attractive about a man who can’t seize the moment, who umms, ahhs, and who just too damn nice to make a move. As your messages go undecoded the spark and flare of the initial friendship dulls... it becomes obvious to you that she won’t sleep with you and it becomes obvious to her that all you want to do is sleep with her. The meetings become sparser and soon you haven’t seen or heard from her in a month.

You may bump into her again but it’s awkward perfunctory affair - exchanging small talk where once a meeting of the minds reigned. Did you used to fancy this girl? Did I really spend hours and hours deciding which Weezer track to put on that last chance mix tape I gave her?

Warzone Rambler : Dan Murdoch faces down crazy men with guns...again.

TONY’S voice crackled over the walkie-talkie: “Um, guys.

This village is not abandoned.

I can see people.”

We were in Armenia, driving through the lazy Caucus hills along the border with Georgia, when we noticed the derelict villages. Dozens of houses stripped bare, their windows and doors gaping lonely holes in crumbling brickwork, the roofs long collapsed.

Fascinated, we decided to divert for a closer look and some filming. Our convoy left the highway and slipped into a crater-pocked road then a rough dirt track towards the crumbling ruins of the ghost town.

“I say again I can see people,” the walkie burst into life, putting me on edge. Tony, in the lead car of the convoy was 50m ahead but I couldn’t see any people.

“There are people here,” the voice from the walkie distorted, paused, then came across loud but calm, “and they have guns. There are people coming with guns. Back up. These guys have guns.”

The voice didn’t betray a hint of panic, but I slammed on the brakes and squinted through the windshield. In the distance I could see a man in scruffy shirt and trousers, with someone behind him wearing

all green. Are those fatigues?

What is he carrying?

“They are waving at me, they want me to go to them,” warbled the walkie, “one of them has a gun. I think we should go back.”

I began to panic. There was a man with a large machine gun hurrying towards the lead car. I rammed the stick into reverse with a horrible scraping sound and looked out of the back window. The guys behind were already reversing, but I could see Carlos was out of the rear car and filming the whole thing.

“He has a gun and he wants me to go to him,” said the walkie, a trace panic.

“Reverse mate, let’s go, come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s go,” was my advice.

But his car sat motionless as thoughts raced through my head. Do we leave Tony here? Do we stay and face up to this with him? The adrenaline flowed fast in the panic.

“Tony let’s go. Come on.”

Still no movement from the lead car. I watched as the man with the gun reached it and then broke into a run as he went past. He was clearly in my view now. Wearing a metal helmet, green fatigues, body armour and carrying a machine gun.

Terrorist? Insurgent? Revolutionary? Hostage taker?

The thoughts flew by and he was nearly on us. I’ve never been run at by a man with an automatic weapon before. It is truly frightening.

Fear-induced paralysis set in. There was going to be a confrontation, we were in a lot of trouble, but best it be a verbal onslaught than a bulletbased exchange.

The man ran past us, past the next car, and it became clear who the focus of his attention was – Carlos and the video camera. I saw the impish Catalan trying to stash the thing but it was too late, we were busted. We got out of our cars and we went to face our fate.

It quickly became clear they were Armenian military, a huge relief. There was a lot of shouting and radioing and I was worried they were about to bring their cohorts down and march us off.

But a battered old car arrived and three men stepped out.

They too were from the military, but you could immediately tell the difference between them and the squaddy who’d chased us. They wore loafers not boots, had beer bellies instead of armour plating, caps instead of helmets, sidearms on their hips and stars on their shoulders. They were officers, and I didn’t know if this meant we

were in more trouble or less. Initially there was shouting, but OJ used his simple Russian: We saw these abandoned villages and thought we’d investigate.

We’re driving to Cambodia.

After a lot of gesturing OJ translated their reply: We had stumbled onto the ArmeniaAzerbaijan border and just our luck, the two nations were still at war. The villages weren’t ghost towns, they were a war zone. They didn’t crumble under the ravages of time, but were blown apart

by Azeri shells. The hills were fortified by both side’s militaries in a tense stand-off.

The officers said that if we had gone further up the dirt road we would have crossed the disputed Armenia-Azerbaijan border. He said the

Azeris would have shot at the cars if they had seen them coming over the hill. I tried to imagine what threat our battered convoy would seem.

A new fangled Armenian weapon disguised as a band of gypsies?

The filming was the biggest issue. It turns out that the military don’t like their front lines being filmed. We showed the head honcho what we’d shot and he demanded it be erased, or else he’d start shooting something else. So we pointed the camera at the ground and filmed over the offending footage, but when we showed him the result - a five-minute film of Armenian rocks- he went into a rage and demanded it be erased.

So we closed the lens cap and filmed blackness.

Anything but give him

the tape, which had some good shots of us driving through the countryside.

Tony passed cigarettes to the officers and they seemed to relax. They looked through our passports and laughed at our stamps, inquired about our Azerbaijani visas, but seemed to accept we were just stupid foreigners, not enemy spies. We’d lost our footage, but I couldn’t resist taking a sneaky picture of the military in my wing mirror.

After an hour of interrogation we were escorted back to the main road. One of the officers gave Tony a peach and sent us on our way, another brush with disaster under our belts. mrdanmurdoch@gmail.com For more about Dan’s travels go to: danmurdoch.blogspot.com

NEW! Phoenix Cinema Film Quiz

I would never have thought that the Bald Faced Stag would make it in here.

Recently refurbished the stag is looking pretty dapper these days and on 18 Feb they will be hosting a special Phoenix Cinema film quiz. Keen film fans are called upon to build teams and to have a ‘screen off’ with each other, hosted by renowned film writer and all round amazing film buff Ian Haydn-Smith – entry is £5 per team. 18th February 2008 at The Bald Faced Stag from 7.30pm to 9pm – East Finchley tube

East Finchley

Archway

Highgate Brent Cross

If life has got a bit understated and post modern for y well time to shake off the electro retro blues and bath the glory of some Epic folk-rock opera. Yeh! Recount story of English proto radical, ‘Freeborn’ John Lilburne sung hero of the Civil War and featuring roots/rock m Hammer; Prior, singer with Steeleye Span and a fine s and songwriter in the traditional folk vein; Mcleod, on the most energetic and rhythmic performers on the c and a supreme storyteller in song, among others. Take chance and be swept away somewhere different. Very different. Sat Feb 16 Union Chapel – Angel Stat

Tufnell Park

Belsize Park

Jumper, 12, Out Now

Old Street

Kings Cross

Kentish Town

Chalk Hampstead Farm

Golders Green

‘Freeborn John’ feat Rev Hammer New Model Army/Maddy Prior/ Rory Mcleod/Rose Kemp/Phil Jo stone/Harry S Fulcher/The Levell

Camden Town

Euston

Mornington Crescent

Follow the jumper! Despite a title and tagline that indicates the comedic escapades of a man’s favourite woolen come alive, everything about Jumper reeks quality action flick. Director Doug Liman, the man who reinvented the spy film with the first Bourne film, is known for his uncompromising methods rumours often swirl his troubled productions, but he always delivers. Well, except Mr and Mrs Smith, but then plenty of people enjoyed that mess of silliness. With Jumper Liman has a killer concept grounded with a solid cast and this slice of sci-fi looks like it will be a crowd pleaser. More than that it’s the perfect date movie - poppy, full of action and pretty people, and hopefully some wit and subtlety to boot. Watch at Screen on the Hill – Belsize Park

Angel Warren Street

Moorga Tottenham Court Road Goodge Street

Monkey’s Uncle Exotique Cabaret

Leic

Feeling a bit edgy? Want something a little different? Well try this… Jake Vegas hosts a weekly musical circus of horrors where he sings twisted blues and sleazeball jazz tunes about nights alone in transvestite bars, dealings with the police and the banality of text messages. The band can stretch to eight or nine members and the be is kept steady by the last of the surre ists, Sir Arthur of Lage’s 8mm films a throughout the evening. Strippers co Guest artists do there thing. Colone records, and it all gets a bit weird...

Fri Feb 15 The Black Gardenia, W1D 3SZ – Goodge street tube

r/ / ohnlers

Swap-A-RamaRazzmatazz

Ever felt underdressed or not really cool enough. Well now’s your chance to change all that. Whenever the klaxon sounds you are required to change an item of clothing with someone nearby.

People are encouraged to wear ‘items that they are not too close to’ as there is little chance you will be returning home in what you arrived in. 14th Feb @ Favela Chic – Great Eastern Street – Old Street tube

you, he in ting the e, unmusician singer ne of circuit, ea y tion

Othello

Borough

Bank

ate

7 Stops

London Bridge

Charing Cross

cester Square

Elephant

Kennington

Waterloo

Stockwell Oval

Embankment

The Valentines Comedy Show @ Covent Garden Comedy Club

Apparently one of the best comedy shows of the year.

Well it sounds good to us there is an awesome collection of comedians featuring Paul Tonkinson, Jeff Green, Micky Flanagan. M.C David Ward plus there will be free chocolate and sweeties for the ladies – so guys wear a dress!

h eat ealare played ome and go. el Mustard plays

93 Dean Street, e

THURSDAY FEB 14 Tickets- £15 Tott court road tube

You know the story, hero loves a girl, baddie gets jealous and tries to tear them apart. It’s a classic tale (and one that certainly inspired me in my darker moments) and this boasts starry performancClapham es from Chiwetel Ejiofor Common and Ewan McGregor. It’s Clapham Ejiofor who impresses the North most as the sombre and conflicted Moor, but the whole production oozes class and gravitas. There are 10 day seats available for each performance, so get down there early one day and fall in love with the Bard all over again.

Donmar Warehouse until Feb 23rd – Charing Cross Tube

***************** If you would like to advertise something in 7stops then please contact us at : editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

www.theothersidemag.co.uk

No Girls Allowed

Huzzah. It’s everyone’s favourite annual commercial love-fest. No, not the day that Manchester United announce their pre-tax profits. Nor in fact the launch of a brand new England shirt (“but the red piping is a whole centimetre thicker…”). No, it’s the 14th of February – Valentine’s day - a date on which every football fan with a “significant other” across the country prays that there will be no fixtures. After all, who wants to give a genuine answer to the question, “Would you really rather spend the evening watching 22 men running around in shorts than spend it with me?” One possible exception is Cashley Cole, who after evenings (allegedly) spent drinking heavily, staring lecherously at young women and then vomiting all over their bling ‘innit, would presumably be happier in the Stamford Bridge dressing room than facing the wrath of Chezza.

In honour of this joyous occasion, here’s The Other Side’s Off Side rather painful attempt at a “Valentine’s XI” – feel free to swerve your Bentley off the road in disgust at our efforts.

(Teams in brackets are either those they play for now, or have played for at some stage in their careers).

GK • DF • MF • ST • • •

Tim Flowers (Blackburn)

Ian Harte (Sunderland) / Lorenzo Amoruso (Blackburn) Philippe Senderos (Arsenal) / Nuno Valente (Everton)

Phil Younghusband (Chelsea) / Vincent Pericard (Stoke) Danny Rose (Tottenham)

Vágner Love (CSKA Moscow) / Peter Ndlovu (Coventry) Gifton Noel-Williams (Watford)

Manager: Steve Coppell (Reading) Referee: Valentin Ivanov

And some subs we made up that tell their own little Valentine’s story: Jussi Chatuplinen (Bolton), Milk Traylor (Birmingham), Tom Snugglestone (Tottenham), Redwine Van Der Saar (Manchester United), Obafemi Martinis (Newcastle United), JosephDésiré BlowJob (Middlesbrough), Juanitstando (Real Betis), Brede Hangoverland (Fulham), Shayme Given (Newcastle United)

Top gigs of the month

Fri 15th - Emmy the Great at London Koko - intimate fragile folk from the adorable songtr

at London Astoria - hyped up downbeat indie. Get on the bandwagon before it becomes full ::: London Camden Lock 17/Dingwalls - ex Test Icicle Dev Hyndes blows the competition away w Thurs 21st - Nada Surf at London King’s Cross Scala, £14 - indie rock old hands big it

The white stuff

Last time I went skiing the apres ski consisted of a Joe Pesci lookalike strutting around singing a medley of soft rock classics (Foreigner!). Sure he’d stolen all his moves from other rock legends, but boy did he give it his all. If you want go somewhere with a bit more polish then Hed Kandi’s is heading to the Swiss Alps.

Situated in the canton of Valais, part of the Four Valleys Ski area, Verbier is infamous for its unparalleled ‘off piste’ runs.

Running every Saturday night until the end of March, Hed Kandi will inject its own inimitable clubbing charm into the majestic Alpine surrounds. Kicking off evenings in the cool Farinet Hotel Lounge Bar and featuring a revolving cast of the cream of Hed Kandi’s DJs this clubbing icon’s irresistible blend of soulful House and dirty disco will ensure the ultimate in Alpine night life.

ress ::: Sat 16th - These New Puritans : Weds 20th - Lightspeed Champion at with his alt country musings :::

How to avert a crisis - HER

Stressed out. Snapping at him again. Taking him for granted... You could change him for a newer model, but if there’s just a flicker of fondness for the silly thing, why not make him feel special again...

Beef Wellington with Foie Gras You need 400g Beef Fillet 400 g Flat Mushrooms Parma Ham Foie Gras 200g Puff Pastry

• Sear the meat in a hot frying pan until it’s

nicely browned all over and all the juices area sealed in.

Blend the mushrooms and cook in a hot dry pan until all the water has evaporated leaving a mushroomy paste.

Lay the Parma ham on some cling film and spread over the Foie Gras, then the mushrooms placing the beef in the middle. Roll up into a cylindrical shape and seal tightly in the fridge.

Roll the pastry out and place the meat in the middle, finish by rolling it all together and leave to chill for a few minutes.

Put the Wellington into your preheated oven (190°C) for 40 minutes.

Serve with roasted root veg doused in butter, salt and pepper.

• • • • •

Then either watch The Sopranos with him/Play Wii with him/Take him to the Zoo/To see a play, constantly try and put your hand down his trousers, suggest illicit sex and laugh at strangers... stagger home giggling and then take him back home, pin him down and er……..

Have a stiff night cap

How to avert a crisis - HIM

Arguing a lot. Not been out for a while. Feel resentful about everything she says... but if dumping sounds like too much hassle (do you really want to figure who’s CDs are who’s?) why not swallow your pride and surprise her with a home cooked meal. It’s cheap AND it show’s you care!

You’ll need.

1 pack Linguine Beautiful juicy ripe cherry tomatoes Buffalo Mozzarella Extra Virgin Olive Oil Basil --------------------100 g Butter 200g Double Cream 250g Decent Dark Chocolate Fresh Fruit and nuts chopped and segmented

•

Cook the Linguine in salted boiling water until it is al dente. Whilst this is cooking, rip the basil and mozzarella up and squash the tomatoes. Drain the pasta and throw all the bits on top, drizzle over plenty of the olive oil and season with Salt and Pepper. Serve with a bottle of M&S Roboso Rose £7.49, Marks & Spencer. For dessert melt the butter in a saucepan, after a minute smash the chocolate up and place it in the pan with the cream.

Stir until you have a thick chocolaty sauce.

Put your nuts and prepared fruit on some greaseproof paper and pour over the sauce.

Leave to set in the fridge. Finish with a bowl of Lemon sorbet with a shot of vodka poured over the top. Film Choice: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Or, take her out to gig/theatre/cinema/zoo/art gallery and get shit faced... stagger home giggling and then give her a right old rogering.

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Dear Danny,

The good Doctor, Danny Dyer, answers your love queries with his own unique brand of advice…

Q: Hi Danny, there’s this girl at work I really fancy but I don’t know how to ask her out. I don’t want things to get be awkward.

Awkward? Awkward’s not having the balls to go up to a bird and asking her out. Know what I mean? If you ain’t got the Jacobs to do that then I suppose you can always do what I done. When I did Human Traffic there was a prop bird who kept giving me the eye right when I was in the middle of a scene. After the tenth failed take of that bit where I swagger around like a muppet I’d had enough and got her fired. Silly moo. Still, cos she was so distraught she needed someone to cheer her up. Enter Me! What I’m saying is make a complaint against her. Sexual harrassment. Racial. It don’t matter. When she’s down and out you can swoop in with a smile and a bottle of Bacardi. Bing bang wallop!

Q: I think my girlfriend is cheating on me with my brother. I don’t know how to bring it up because I don’t want to lose her or make her think I’m the jealous type?

You seen Raging Bull? If you haven’t I’m surprised you’ve even got yourself a girlfriend – shouldn’t you be down Heaven or something?

If you have then I’ll tells you what to do… go round your bruv’s house and kick his fackin head in. Whether he’s done it or not he won’t come sniffing round again and your bird will know you mean the business when it comes to infidelity. I pretty much done the same thing meself. When I was shooting Football Factory someone let slip that a bloke was knocking off one of my many birds. I went round his manor to see what’s what and he’s only nobbing some other old tart! He was a big fella and well narked that I’d interrupted and was gonna cave me head in. But I gave him a signed dvd of all my best bits so that was that sorted.

Disclaimer: Danny Dyer is not a recognised doctor and The Other Side disagrees with all of Mr Dyer’s opinions and suggests any intelligent reader do the exact opposite to what he says.

Wanna dump your bit on the side. Can’t? Haven’t got the balls? We sent our intrepid Doc Brown back in time to find out just how people managed.

How to dump your man, 1950s stylee.

It’s been three years since you were whisked off to the dance for that unforgettable night. Two dates later and you were already preparing dinner, it’s been the same routine ever since. Planning ahead, food on the table for his return, a clean house, a chair placed by the fire with the newspaper folded neatly on the table so that he can unwind after dinner, running him a hot bath whilst he relaxes, after all, he is the breadwinner and he deserves the attention.

Does he though? Has he taken you dancing lately. Or to a broadway show? Has he taken you to mother’s for afternoon tea... if not, perhaps you’ll be needing this short guide to breaking the whole thing off. To hell what the Mr and Mrs Carstairs next door say...

First, you should write him a letter, be amicable, affectionate but stern. Use words such as envious, treaty and desire. Explain how work had taken too much presidence over your needs and that your fathers desire to see you married had thrown a spanner into the works.

Once the letter is complete seal it with your family seal and place it within his newspaper.

As usual when he returns from work have dinner prepared,

but it shouldn’t be special. Perhaps just one scoop of mash potato and nothing exotic such as broccoli or marzipan (you shouldn’t give him the wrong idea).

Refrain from conversing at the dinner table and concentrate on looking your best. Remember he’s going to regret not taking notice of you when you have left. A strong push up bra is a must, display your assets.

After dinner rather than running him a bath sit together in the drawing room, when he finds the letter excuse yourself, use this time to pamper up, touch up your make up, push up your bra & tie a red ribbon in your hair.

Return to confront him in the drawing room. He will be shocked, he is the breadwinner and he must not be undermined, let his anger get the better of him (he may throw things at you) before fleeing to your sister’s place up town. Have carriages awaiting outside.

As you leave feel a breath of fresh air and rejoice in the fact that you have left him the dishes to wash up and you have the rest of your life to live on the fringes of polite society as a social pariah...

BACK OF A BUS Men have feelings too… especially when they’re losing their hair. Cardorowski fights it out with the ad men over his body image There was a time when likening a visage to the ‘back end of a bus’ was so obviously a term of derision that no further explanation was needed.

Nowadays, with the invasion of the Cruz sisters, all manner of scantily clad nubiles (of various sexes) and any number of depilated faces and coiffed heads adorning our vehicles of public transportation, the definition might seem ready for re-invention or at least reapplication. Buuuuut… Whoa there… hold yer ponies!

Methinx, perchance, the old truism might still hold.

Obviously one is tempted to cast Nasturtiums upon the wisdom of placing Penelope’s sister alongside the awardwinning actress herself, but p’raps one is being a little uncharitable and insufferably Anglo in one’s pejorative perambulations, but the fact remains that these purported paragons of beauty have undergone much more time than you or I have in our lives being tweaked in the hair chair/ slap dept; pushed, pulled and pinned in the Dress-ing Room (for that, the dress,

lest we forget, is why they’re up there!) before all manner of lights/camera/snapper are employed for an image to be found capable of making a poor chap slobber and a queazy chick feel inferior.

And then, long after the sisters Cruz’ve split the scene and the cash (70/30? Too charitable?) all them CGI-bods step in to ease the wrinkles, blush over a spot, add line to the infamous curves, inches to the not-insignificant busts and remove any unwanted, unruly hairs. Except of course, and here we jump buses, in the case of those ’TRICOLOGIC’ ads that festoon the bottoms of our blushing red busends!

‘Your face, my arse’ the bus seems to be saying to any man ready to fall for that particular trick of logic.

I thought the slaphead/ shaved look was meant to subvert all attempts to coerce the male half of the species into surrender before this quasi-surgical hocus-pocus promising the rediscovery of long lost Hair? Do those who recede not wonder why Elton still sports outlandish hats and a variety of distracting spex after years of pouring good money after bad in vain (both

meanings) attempts at acquiring a barnet? Mebbe it’s the word LOGIC at the end that sucks you all in. Mebbe you all love a good trick. P’raps we should replace ‘logic’ with the truth; this is no more than a ‘TRIC-OF-AD-SPEAK’.

There, does that make it any simpler for ya? There is NO logic at all in the ongoing attempts to persuade men that it’s possible to regain what has already, and so cruelly, been lost. It is all a smoke screen designed to give scientific kudos to a C20th variation of Snake Oil. And I’m well aware that they’re playing with the spelling of the word trichology, meaning the study of the structure, purposes and diseases of hair, but if they’re gonna mess with the spelling (and imply that there is Reason or logic behind their claims), I’m gonna take liberties with the onomatopoeic qualities of their invention.

Because, in the end, isn’t all Ad-speak a mere trick o’ logic designed to snag a wandering eye, entrap a wayward ear or stuff a gaping mouth? And where better than the back of a bus in rush-hour, where everymanjack of us has a vanity mirror at hand to check the receding tide of foliage, to catch a suffocating Guppy suffering delusions of inferiority?

Of course, long before

those ads hit the screen/tube/ busend there’s all manner of surveys done to maximise the ability of the lie to make us splash our cash. They know we’re interested, know that we’re still worried about the way we look and, more obviously, the way we’re perceived. This despite the fact that all the evidence at hand seems to suggest that most couples view their partners through thick gauze/rose tints or abject blindness! Either they’re blind or they’ve found a way of looking at each other that is far in advance of that which the casual observer is capable. Can it truly be that a ‘sense of humour’ or a ‘brain’, maybe a ‘compassionate heart’ or a ‘generous nature’ hold more sway than the avoidance of a pimple or a Sweep-Over, a surgically enhanced breast or bee-stung lip! One might even stretch a point, today, and call it Love!

Which is all to the good, but NOT enough! Love in the hand is so much more wonderful when splashed about the Town! Out LOUD. And PROUD. In the past I have offered up the opinion that we take arms against this tide of troubles and ‘Banksy-up’ ourselves: Take hold the magic marker/spray can and indulge in a little reappropriation of public spaces. Give the lie to the BIG LIES on display with such ubiquity. My ‘Daily-ink’ tells me this is already happening in a variety of locations around the town/land, albeit of a rather negative tone. So, while I applaud their gumption

and sense of communal responsibility, I do wish they had a little more positivity. But, what I am suggesting today, of all days, is something subtler, more private and hopefully more powerful.

What we might need on this Valentine’s Day is a celebration of who we are instead of a wish that we become mere facsimiles of the tortured ‘beauties’ on display. Ad nauseam. A rejoicing in the ’warts and all’ lives we live, rather than a feeble longing for the Barbra Carthorse existence on offer.

A celebration of the significant ‘other’ who stares across the

corn flake bowl in all his/her glory, refusing to tart him/herself up like… well, the back end of a bus! And no furtive celebration either, but an evident and heartfelt delight in the multifarious appearances that defy that close-minded ‘beauty’. Because that ‘beauty’ is not real, it’s a lie. And if you live long enough with a lie, it will make you a liar and then you will be good for nothing but hanging on the rear end of a number 52. And you gotta know that that existence stinks. Something rotten. A Sweet Smelling and Truthful Valentine to you all.

what's nico been thinking?

what has nico been thinking this week?

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