Ted Max

Consider the graceful, riverine sweep of Bellenden Road as it flows from Danby to Chadwick. Here on its sunny banks we find bakers, choclatiers, clothiers, launderers, automobile entertainment specialists, hairdressers and licensed victuallers. Scuttling through the undergrowth are the night animals; prostitutes, addicts and the lost seeking the warmth of a darkened burrow as day breaks. On the upper, western reaches of the Bellenden slumber the urban masses, tightly secured in loft-converted dwellings. To the east, the street meanders with estuarine langour and reluctance into the great Peckham Delta. But here, between Danby and Chadwick, that is all yet to come. And life seems possible.

I leave mine on. Its steady green glow is a comforting presence as I wait for the first grey light of the pre-dawn to nudge over the roofs of the houses opposite. Occasionally all the lights flash and reset as BT sends a software upgrade - automated signalling having a conversation with itself. I feel like an eavesdropper. Then the lights all turn steady again and I can turn my eyes back to monitoring the chink at the top of the curtains.

"I've arranged a rendevous with Marjorie Houlihan... who's researched the Lancashire tripe trade." "Tripe has defeated me. The answer is to go somewhere that can make tripe tempting to the modern palate... how about Salford?" "He's fighting the cause of terroir. He is in fact a terroirist."

Chips now. "To be called to the supreme destiny that every Lancashire potato dreams of. To become... a Blackpool chip." "Is there a link between Terroir and chippy technology?" "These were men retiring from engineering jobs so fettling up a fish and chip range would come naturally to them."

The North on a Plate: BBC4 right now. Not one for Quids, perhaps, but there's an entertaining cultural historian talking about the "Terroir" of the North. Results so far: Lob Scouse and Wigan's pie eaters. "In the words of Morrissey, the greatest poet these parts have ever produced..." All good stuff. Also: "Pie eating in Wigan is not just a tradition, it's also a palimpsest" Awesome.

You seem quite nervous about your attempt to reconstruct the early mediaeval bounds of Friern Manor. What's the controversy, John? Is it all about to kick off with the Peckham Society?

They have food, water, and medicines. They have contact with the outside world - they can talk with their families and they know that rescue efforts are underway. There are doctors and psychological experts on the surface trying to make their conditions as tolerable as possible, and trying to establish a routine for the miners. They're encased in miles of rock. Above them rock ascending to an indifferent sky; below them rock descending to a molten, angry, core. Their hearts yearn for the soft warm breath of their lovers. They sing lullabies to children that cannot hear. They beat themselves raw to the porn their rescuers have so thoughtfully provided. It's not a bad life.

Matri Pellwo. Ccok.

Listen Andy, ignore the ChieB. Hona's never got over the whole Keren thing. A decade sharing a taxi back to Upper Norwood with Jody Watley was bare recompense for that kick to the knackers.

Ray Davies at Glastonbury (showing right now on BBC4). What the fuckingfuck was he thinking?

I'm taking the in-laws down NCR market. Then lunch at the Palmerston.

NCR market is where newlyweds take their visiting in-laws to fill the awkward hour between a walk round the park and lunch in the Palmerston. Never has so much fudge been bought as an aid to conversation.

Review, Jah. Although revue does sound more generally debauched.

Also, I am dry curing a ham.

I'm playing boom boom music all night long out of my open windows.

I like that rope walk. 1. It will teach kids a bit of risk assessment, school of hard knocks, value of a good thrashing etc etc 2. It might engage the "sit on the bench with a coffee and let other carers/parents rescue my kids" to get off their arse and play with their kids/clients. This post was brought to you by "is this your child with the bleeding nose?" holier-than-thou Ted Max poster.

That's Honk playing one of his minimalist sets. Lionel is his trademark "feck you" to the imported home counties values set.

Young punk http://s-ak.buzzfed.com/static/enhanced/terminal01/2010/8/5/14/enhanced-buzz-10504-1281032869-18.jpg

old punks look funny Old Punk http://s-ak.buzzfed.com/static/enhanced/terminal01/2010/8/5/14/enhanced-buzz-10427-1281033453-15.jpg

A thread title from the Family Room. Monday again at the Horniman sandpit? Perfect

Oops.

Hey Steve, what's non-PC about relaying what you've heard?

Mark, I heard it's ?240,000 for the playground, and a ?560,000 vandalism and repairs budget. (Seriously, though. 240 big ones? Bloody hell)

I went. What do you want to know?

Eh? EDIT: Oh I think I get it. You're making out I'm having a go at the OP. Very good. No - I think if I was as rich as this bloke, I'd employ a Fool, a Jester - to remind me of my mortality, tell me truths that others dare not, and also do knob gags.