Can I suggest you get fucked?

THAT'S how Whitehouse's 2003 album - if you can call it that - opens.

First I'll tell you what I've been up to, dear readership of None.

I finally went to see my GP about general anxiety, panic attacks, depression and all the other symptoms of being a neurotic internet-frequenting shut-in.
Well, actually, the reason I went to the GP was this awful twitch about three inches above the base of my cock, if I was standing straight. She suggested it may be an STD. Turned out it wasn't. It was just a twitch. Occam's razor (Occam's bladder?), just like the time
 I thought my heavy leg 
was a life threatening blood clot. 
That turned out to be an imagined heavy leg. I spent four hours in
 A+E regardless.
 
So while I was at the GP, nice lady by the way, eager to prescribe me drugs, I thought I'd
mention my crippling anxiety/panic attacks and my not-so-crippling but still very much there 
depression. She got me referred to the local mental health unit and prescribed me a low dose of
Diazepoo which works to make me feel calm and content and sometimes prone to lying down and drawing things for my friends. I've drawn a few things so far, they don't make much sense, more an intricate web of silly paterns and fractured doodling, but I'll give them away because they're not really for me to keep.

The lady at the mental health place was typical. Nodding and going "mmhmm." a hell of a lot, so I complimented her on her shoes and started cracking awful jokes until she smiled for me. Haha, made you smile, lady. Her shoes weren't that great at all. 
They were supposed to be black, I think, but had turned black-grey. She was wearing the same pair the second time I saw her
 and she had her hair pushed back behind her ears which is an awful 
look for everyone. But when you're dealing with depressed whingers
and alcoholics all day long I guess you don't exactly aim for "Hot" in
case they want to fuck you. There's a lot of real crazies there who would
probably try. Big fat guys who mumbled to themselves and wore baseball caps.

Gotta wait two months before they can start sorting me out, which is better than the last time I went about this time two years ago, where the waiting list was six months so I went private and saw a man called Thomas who advised me to move to Brighton, where I developed a penchant for drinking every fucking day and taking drugs and stuff. Also his head resembled an egg with glasses.

What else have I been up to, uh, it was my girlfriend Rhia's birthday so we went to see The Sonics. They were really great for a bunch of old guys with a dead drummer. The drummer wasn't there, that would have been both fucked up AND useless. They had this young guy on instead who did a pretty decent job. Seriously though don't talk in between every song.

There were some old Sonics fans who had turned into either obnoxious old drunkards or obnoxious old drunkard yuppies who were really really annoying and either hurling abuse (why?) or singing every other word, THEN hurling abuse.
The Sonics were supported by The Horrors who didn't do their typical Horrors thing and instead played mostly new stuff. 
Figured it would have been more garagey considering who 
the band was supporting.
That was a bunch of fun but it made me wish my legs were thinner.

I also went to a Sushi themed party which was okay but not really my kind of people. 
Also it wasn't so much a party as it was a gathering.
 There were studenty types there and more cock and gay jokes than I cared for,
probably because everyone was sucking down on a shisha pipe and repressing homosexual urges. p.s. I missed out on the sushi but got free wine (for free).

I've also had more headfucks than I've cared to deal with but I won't go into them because they're probably more boring than the tripe I've already put up here.

Currently I am listening to just three tracks off Psychic TV's last effort which is weird avant-glam I guess you could call it. The three tracks I am listening to are "Thee Body," "I don't think so," and "BB". Genesis P Orridge is a weird one but I love him anyway. My mum really hates him because of a few encounters back when she was illustrating for Sothis. Apparently he can be a bit of a creep. Current 93's main, uh, Current David Tibet did an impression of Genesis for me over some food in Chinatown. "David, do you have any maltesers?" he said. Since then I've wanted to go to PTV with a whole pack of party-sized maltesers and flood the stage with them.

I've been listening to a lot of Joy Division and Current 93 too, as well as Satie. I think "Lament for my Suzanne" has got to be one of my favourite songs at the moment.

Right now I've got The Doors playing because my Dad stumbled into my room, drunk, and requested it. It's 3pm.

That reminds me, a friend and I have made a pact to not take any shit from anyone for one week. It's going okay. Thought I'd have a chance to test it out with some pretend gangsters from Pinner who were strutting around saying things like "blud" and "browns" and "seeeeeeeeeerious?" but Pinner gangsters are even shittier than Harrow gangsters. I don't think they've even started leaving the tags on their caps in Pinner yet.

Anyway, whatever, life is both really good and bad and I guess that's normal. Here are the lyrics for all of Bird Seed:

Hey, knuckle-nicks
I'll tell you:
It's helping
I'll tell you:
You're doing the right thing
I can see you're used
And I don't know where you've been
But I do know past failures still haunt you
Thoughtless slow remarks you later regret
It's hard to own up and take the blame
For being a nervous gibbering wreck
So go on be a careless fucking onlooker
So you can sit and not-think about pain
I know about gasping attacks and mirror-blood
I know about shitbags and shame
I know a fuckload more than you realise
A fuck of a lot more than you think
I know why you can take a kiss
But not a bone-count hug
I know you bite your fat banana fingernails
And I know why you'd need to shave
I know you're a slow fussy pathetic eater
And I know you don't sleep much
But I'll still tell you:
It's helping
And I'll still tell you:
You're doing the right thing

Question: did you ever hurt yourself to make somebody sorry?
How often do you pretend to be sick?
You ever wanted something very much but never told anybody about it?
Are you such a slug you can't live without a fucking sundae?
You ever made a bit too much fuss over your cuts?
Yes, the cutting will be quite dramatic
If you get the crisscross slit right
And show an exposed piece of bone
Ready for harvest
And in a few seconds' time:
In a drop of anal red the poison
And your totally disgusting diseased unkempt disgusting excuse of a body
Continues to react
Till mere days after the cutting
The cancer says well hello
In between fairground muscle twitches
And clearly white scaly shit
Tinkerboy says burnt it out
The little cunt doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about
And just weeks after the cutting
You really don't know
How well can you imagine
How soon cheap tears are forgotten
Because there's no wasted kleenex or sympathy
Nobody would give a fucking toss
For a quasi-glamour of your symptoms
For your Russell’s sign
And for your atrocious sleepless lucidity
Because what if they were provoked?
It's prefectness and it's all there
No more pointless trawling through self-helped books for triggering examples
No more daytime trash or drunken wisdom
At first it seems not to be working
Til you get that imitation of danger
That means you can no longer convince yourself it's not working
More and more and more
So right now would be a good time for blackmail
Who have you ever tried to make guilty?
Have you ever told on anyone?
What somebody has told you not to tell
My question: I said have you ever told on anyone?
Yet I'll tell you:
It's helping
And I'll tell you:
You're doing the right thing

More and more you wonder if anyone really gives a fuck
Do you sometimes feel that:
You talk too much
You don't listen enough
Do you admit to letting others push you around?
Who's pushing you around now?
Who's hitting on you now?
Who's the pervert hitting on you now, kuckle-nicks?
Has he successfully perverted an ethic?
Has he destroyed a doll body?
I'll show you what's it like not to have hands
And I'll show you how to hold on tight
I'll show you how to piss on your own bedclothes
And sit in a closet
You'll learn to sweat while unconscious
And I'll show you the electric stick
You'll learn about the kitty-cut
Before the privilege of seeing your own blood
I'll let you suck brown-brown and clairil
So you know how papa's so brave
I'll show you the wide-awake nightmare
And now you can buy some fucking fear
So new question: can you:
Spot a person who's like me?
Can you:
Imagine a difference between their body and yours?
Can you:
Imagine a person who looks like me?
Could you:
Spot a person who looks unlike you?
Can you:
Spot a person who's how you want to be?
Can you:
Imagine a person who you'd never want to be?

Transferring people is a fucking degrading thing to do to them
And one day the you'll understand that
One day the you'll understand that:
Cut hands has the solution
We'll feed you to every hungry bird
We'll feed you to every starving animal
And we'll let them eat fat till they're full
And will let them drink blood till they're drunk
As I tell you:
It's helping
While I tell you:
You're doing the right thing

_______________________________________________

Just like your father
Just like your mother
What sort of example do you think you're setting?
Do you talk that way to your sister?
Does cunt talk that way to your sister?
So why'd you say that?
You know you can't get away with that
You know what's coming to you now, don't you?
Coming to cunt
I just can't believe you did that
You cunt, you fucking cunt
Who do you think you are?
Who the hell do you think you are?
Who the fuck do you think you are?
You stupid fucking cunt
Do you talk that way to your sister?
Would you talk that way to your momma? Eh?
Come on, cunt, do you talk that way to your momma?
Do you talk that way to your momma?
Didn't she teach you any manners?
Look at me and say you're sorry, cunt
Cunt says sorry
Cunt's gonna say sorry

You're nothing
Cunt's nothing
Zero
Just remind yourself
Remember you're fat
Remember you're stupid
Remember you're ugly
Just like your fucking mother
Just like your fucking father
Have you got a good view?
Fat, stupid and ugly
A fat, stupid, ugly cunt
Are you remembering that?
You fucking cunt
I really can't believe you did that
You vulgar, common, coarse piece of shit
Your hanging and sick wobbly meat flab
Flabby folds your flesh
You're a disgrace
You're a total disgrace
And where's your fucking decorum?
Yes, decorum, where is your fucking decorum?
Cunt's fucking decorum
You fucking cunt
Just like your fucking mother
And just like your fucking father
See that?
What's that over there?
Yes, cunt, that's a door
I just want you to look at the door


Now I'm a really positive person
But you don't know what can happen from day to day
As you think about it in your mind
If I walked out that fucking door
And the door closed
And as it closed
It slammed shut
And no matter what you did
No matter what you fucking did
You could not open the door
And you knew you could never look into my eyes again
Hear my voice again
Feel my touch again

You're right, you know
About that door
You really shouldn't think about it
A huge mistake to fucking think about
You don't have to think about the door
It makes you feel uncomfortable
Doesn't it?
I know it does
You don't have to feel like that
It's distressing
It's really distressing

A terrible think happened
My friend was stabbed in the street
By some drunk
Dead before he arrived at the hospital
Wouldn't it be terrible?
Think about it
Even if you could get that door opened
And you were to search
You could never find me again
You will never be able to see me again
You will never be able to hear my voice again
Feel my touch again
You'll never be able
All that fun we had together
The great times we had together
The coast
The night-time
The hotel
The journey home
Even if you were to open that door
You would search but you could never find

You're nothing
Cunt's nothing
Zero
Just remind yourself
Remember you're fat
Remember you're stupid
Remember you're ugly
Fat, stupid and ugly
Just remember that
And also remember life's tragedies
Think about them
I still think about it
You see that door?
You see that door?
You see that door?
You see that door?
Cunt, do you see that fucking door?

_________________________________________________

Can I suggest you:
Get fucked
While you lie about child-molesting gropes
And parkbench flashers and pervert creeps
And anal virginity and polaroid snaps
And verbal abuse and bathroom rapes
I don't know how well you can:
Remember your own pointless glue-sniffing adolescence
That fumbling floppy sex
In between fags
Those pathetic fistfights
All those pathetic petty thefts
And this and that and this and that and this and that
And every other fucking Adidas-clichéd cringe

Can I suggest you:
Pose
While you take another frantic glance at your shopwindow reflection
Ensuring the stinking lie is maintained
Because that's the difference between you
Yes, that's the difference between you
You'll let a leering scumbag beerdrinking rat
Raise your nostrils for a close-up smell
Of fingertip nicotine and animal fat
And force an open dead mouth
Lap up ounces of semichem sweat
So can you feel that:
Would be a truly truly disgusting thing?

And that's the difference between me
I'll open the package
I'll watch the show
I'll enjoy perfectly well-made art
I'll get in line behind stupidity
I'll let you lie through your teeth
I'll make you feel special
I'll not pick out the mistakes in public
I'll just put it down to passion
And feigned memory lapse

What did you want to be when you grow up?
Certainly not raped
That's the difference between you
A drunk? A drug addict
A motherly protector of the young?
Another bed-staining cunt?
A child molestor that needs to be told?
Or just a craven lust-driven artist
Channelling confusion and fear
Into a sickly limp repetitive craft
Yes, that's the difference between you
You'll act late and surprised
You say you loved sex?
You'll love being hated for the act
The filthier the abuse and the desperate underage details
The fatter the payback
So rather than just listen
Be altered by what's been said

Now that's the difference between me
I'll show you emotional truth
I'll show you the fucking source
I'll show you yet another fucking liar
And this is for the you
I'll show you that something that makes you:
Feel different
Feel special
I'll give you:
Thoughts
Images
Sounds
I'll give the you something
Even more interesting than the last one
And I'll tell you why it's the best one yet
And then you can look back on it all
And say:
This is the best thing that ever happened to me
And see:
Why you never became a dancer

_________________________________________________

You boy
What's it like to wet your foot in a cold swimming pool?
What does your voice sound like underwater?
At night?
Can you do the chickenskin swim?
Can you do the chlorine gargoyle?
Can you wriggle like an eel?

I don't know why you'd be proud
Of your 33 hours' lack of need
You're another shut-in freak
Living off the burn of boy's own razzled body
Another cop of instant coffee
Another plastic spoon
Another table routine
I don't know why boy's proud
Of a nicotine hack
What's so fucking clever about that?
You little cunt
Another tube
Another tube of shitpaste
Squeezed out
Squeeze out that brown hairgel squirt
Your fave long tube
Recarving boy hollow
Into the splash
And I really don't know
No idea
I have no fucking idea why boy'd be proud
Of another case of flu
Another running nostril
Another running mouth
And don't just sit there chatting
Nodding amicably
Give me those lights
And stop giggling, chickenskin
Face the feast of powder
Cos I know you'll scream and tell the whole fucking world

So what is it like to put your foot into the cold swimming pool?
What does your voice sound like underwater?
Can you do the chickenskin swim?
Can you do the chlorine gargoyle?
Can you wriggle like an eel?
Come on boy
You're home
Hey chickenskin
You're home
Wriggle like a fucking eel
Wriggle like a fucking eel

_______________________________________

Failure Bagel