I am part watching/part immersed in a screening of the film Borat (only the experience is quite unlike the actual version, this being the 'dreamescape' take). Borat himself is singing a terrible, insulting rendition of a national anthem, offending a huge (Iranian/Afghani?) crowd as he does so. Cue countless angered and disgusted reaction shots, people scoffing and rolling their eyes. One particular shot of a judge (Judy-esque woman) shows her mouthing at a(nother) court official, who mouths, “I only deal with wh*res” by way of a (helpless) reply. Immersed as I am in all this chaos I cannot think anything other than that Bruno was the better film-
I am in a coffee shop that is comprised of two square-ish rooms, one of which can only be entered via the other. I am in the first (main) room and a young lad leaves our table to go through the (open) doorway into the second room. (Is there supposed to be some open mic/entertainment there later?) A girl sitting to my left – I am sitting with my back to the window – says something about the recently departed lad being quite funny. Someone then makes a remark that I look like a comedian. I respond by saying that I used to be a comedian! Cue surprised gasps and exclamations-
Now walking along a stony shoreline path-cum-track with my friend Jay Emm. The sea is to our left and (just) visible in the misty distance is a building, the shoreline curving round to it. I am annoyed as the building is the Glasgow music/arts venue SWG3 and I spit, “Shhh*teWG3!” and thereafter continue to lambast it as an awful concert venue. Jay Emm and I then talk about the excellent(?) Low gig(?) that we saw there-
A flesh organise a-nother-
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