THE PRINCE IS DEAD. LONG LIVE THE PRINCE.
1956 – 2012
It is with no small amounts of regret and bewilderment that we unhappily report the passing of Desmond Shawman Prince, formerly Desmond Becirbecovic. The precise circumstances are unclear, however according to reports, Prince’s home was broken into just after half midnight by members of the violently middling Glaswegian screamo outfit ‘Departures’, although at least one source is claiming it was actually Flood of Red.
Neither band were given any coverage by Prince, who on more than one occasion branded them ‘Terminally Unexceptional’, and in a draft for a Metal Hammer review described their live set as ‘An utterly nullifying experience. Absolutely debilitating’. Prince did not finish the draft for fear that the article would write itself out of existence.What followed is unclear. Prince was able to provide some thoughts on the event as it happened via twitter, before presumably relinquishing his mother’s HTC. Prince was found on the kitchen table, dressed in what could only be described as ‘painfully average’ attire.
As in line with Desmond’s beliefs, his body will be left alone to rot upon the table, never to be disturbed, and every-day life will proceed as if he weren’t even there. Prince’s landlord, one Alasdair Johnman Dhillon, has had an embroidery hung above the fireplace which details what he believed to be the three beliefs Prince lived his life by. These were ‘The Fear of God, People, and Hard Work to Get You Through’.
Unfortunately Dhillon has mistaken the deceased for the wrong Desmond Prince. This has some very serious consequences, not least that Apedu Desmond Prince is now the only individual among the festering entirety of mankind who may validly serve as the blogs chief contributor, a task which we suspect he is totally and irrevocably not up for.
You may follow the new editor-in-chief’s musings here -> https://twitter.com/papedu1
It could of been you, but it isn’t.
The annual charity romp made headlines earlier this year when the strict ‘dogs-only’ policy was overturned by a small, enigmatic court of law located deep underground in the Carron Valley, thus transforming the normally jovial, shaggy event into a carnival-cum-circle-jerk of failure and repression. Justice C.K Lynch DBE declined to make any official comment, but would later imply that he had no legal authority of any description, and that what had started out as a somewhat drawn-out joke had created a situation in which he has, to quote directly, ‘Far too much power. Far, far, far too much power’.
I did not attend the festival myself due to the restraining order Ted Milton has taken out on me and my two dachshund’s, Tristan and Isolde. As it was the buggers didn’t even pay for his bus or some shit, whatever, I remain convinced that the entire event was an ultra-contrived shambles from the get go. My Brother Terry went though and despite Ulver not making the bill, he claims to of had a lot of fun, so with that in mind, festival gets an S for ‘Shut it Down’.
Hidden in the forest somewhere is the dark art of death. Could next year be the year the dogs fight back? We can only hope so. In the mean time it’s back to the job centre boys!
– Desmond de LaDoucette
WELLLL IT’S been emotional but i’ve finally come down off of that one ecto i took around the end of June. It’s been a marvelous summer thus far! Here are some highlights –
BUGGERINFUCK AT MERCHANT CITY ‘FESTIVAL’, 13TH NOTE
Sufferinbuggers, the only band in Glasgow. Top shelf. Great to see Bill Bailey back on guitar.
Hear this, No Island – you’ve got some ‘killer licks’, and some great songs for the lads when they’ve had a few, but DF-are-shite chat is bad enough when everyone in the room who knows what you’re on about has known that for three years. However you managed to further exacerbate things by following it up with a solid admission that you DID A CONCERT WITH DF and that it turns out that THEY’RE MAINLY INTERESTED IN THE MONEY? WHAT AN EARTH DID YOU MELONHEADS EXPECT?! Immediately after this sordid confessional, you REPEATEDLY praise the crowd for their ability to remain in the room with you, despite them not being of the ‘hardcore’ persuasion. YES, GOOD JOB YOU LOT, WELL DONE FOR NOT FUCKING OFF DESPITE NOT HAVING GHC TATTOOED ON YOUR FACE AND NOT HAVING SIGNED UP FOR CLOCKED OUT’S NOW-INFAMOUS ‘WORKFARE-FOR-HARDCORE’ PROGRAM. WHERE’S MY FUCKING MONEY MICK. ALSO, ‘GHC BOYS?’ THERE’S ONLY ONE OF THEM FOR GOD’S SAKE! Now look, I’m an amiable type, I’m just saying, it’s a bit patronising, a bit crass, and a bit silly to follow up talk of DF concerts with somewhat contrived talk of ‘hardcore’.
WHERE’S THE COKE. WHO’S COKE IS THIS. IT’S MINE NOW. GREAT TO SEE BILL BAILEY BACK ON GUITAR. GIG IS A T FOR TOP-FROWN DOWN RANKING.
G-TOWN CONCERTE IS A MUST. ‘SOMEONE TELL EM’ TO BUGGER OFF AND PUT A T-SHIRT ON.
ASPARAGUS PISS DRIP WASHOUT
Honestly, someone needs to tell that West Princess lot to go to bed, I mean they’re great fun an all and I genuinely enjoyed bits of this, particularly the amateur gymnastics, but they’ve all been awake since I got here which is FIVE YEARS AGO NOW, and I think they’re getting a bit jittery. There’s an old man at my work who keeps telling me to ‘carry on as usual’. He says it in a coarse whisper. What he’s really asking for is for help. THIS WILL BE YOU IF YOU DON’T CHILL OUT AND STICK ON A PASTELS RECORD EVERY SO OFTEN.
Right! That’s all for now! Me and my lawyer Charles Hercule Lynch QC have to go and prepare my case for my Back-to-Work interview tomorrow. It’s going to be tough! It’s going to be real! Free Kashif, ban GHC! Goodnight!
– Desmond Prints
TRULY WONDERFUL STUFF FROM EMERGING MUNDANE-CORE TALENTS ‘THAT-PERSON-ON-THE-INTERNET’, NOW IN FULL TIME EMPLOYMENT AND OFFICIALLY IN CAHOOTS WITH ‘THE MAN’, WHO I’VE RECENTLY DISCOVERED IS MY BROTHER’S BEST MATE! HIS NAME’S RHYS, GOOD WITH A HAMMER! ONLY DISAPPOINTING THING HERE IS THAT KIDNEY NONSENSE – I’VE HAD SEVEN OF THE TASTY LITTLE BUGGERS REMOVED SINCE I BEGAN WORK AT THE AGE OF 6, AND NEVER MISSED A SHIFT – GOTTA GET THE CASH TO BUY ‘EM BACK FROM SOMEWHERE!
GREAT POINT WELL MADE – GET JOBS, GET KONY! I’D BETTER GET OFF TO WORK BEFORE THE KEEN LITTLE TYKES GET MY OWN JOB! BEWILDERING, OTHER-WORLDLY UNDERSTANDING OF THE WIDER SITUATION GETS A ‘U’ FOR ‘UPTOWN TOP RANKING’! YOU’RE FIRED!
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO PERTH?
HERE’S A CAFE I SAW OUTSIDE THE BUS STATION THERE.
THERE IS MUCH TO BE SAID ABOUT IT.
SPECIFICALLY, IT’S THE WORST PUN IN THE TAYSIDE CONSTABULARY’S REALM OF REMIT.
CONTRIVED, SELF-INSISTENT, PERHAPS EVEN BEWILDERING.
I’M NEVER GOING BACK.
THAT’S ALL FOR NOW.
Shocking scenes last Saturday when one concerned citizen attempted to lock what he considered to be the finest in glasgow culture within a practice space cum venue named after a vessel within which one historical figure attempted a similar manoeuvre following a global flooding event which the aforementioned denizen concerned suspects may repeat itself sooner rather than later (This is honestly dreadful. It’s not especially funny, is incredibly clumsy, and is a complete fabrication. I understand you’ve been drinking heavily for seven hours now but really, who in sodomy is going to enjoy this?)
Were there even any fucking bands at this? I heard some lads impersonating ultimate thrush locked themselves in one of the spaces and played the intro from start today for two fucking hours. I doubt it though. I seriously doubt it. Dave Ghrol circa 94 was also here, as were three other Dave Ghrol circa 94’s. Good-time boys.
Saw a topless man try to start a fight with a bus yesterday. ‘You’re going down!’ cried he, menacingly brandishing a five iron, before becoming tired of the cliched caricature of a mad-jakey-bastard-strolling-down-Victoria-road-on-a-sunny-afternoon he suspected he had become. He’s thinking about going for a degree. Good luck to you mate, I still want you arrested. MAIR COPS.
– I Know Ian Paisley
Awkward territory this. Prior to attending, I had a serious chat with my mother about how I hadn’t been to a decent party in months, but she was unsympathetic. Respite only came when she promised that if she won the lottery, ‘we’d have a jolly’.
Andrew Wesley King’s twenty minutes onstage at the Kensington Park Community Birth Outlet were plagued by existential difficulties and an arrogance I can only describe as ‘real’. Plus I was really hungry. I caught up with him after the gig for a chat.
Good to meet you. Wilkes Krasp. Andrew, if you like.
I am not he.
This is not a surprising development.
I’m glad you feel that way.
Did you find a pair of skates your size?
I did not attend this event.
Right. Well that I find unbelievably difficult to believe. Everyone said you’d be there. Joey, Neilo, Drewseph, Harris…
Cardamon Carol. Benson. Stockton. Salek?
Anderman Makarov, DJ Rashad, various members of King Crimson, Nicola ‘Sarsaparilla’ Sturgeon…
Neil Buchanan. Desmond Prince. Lynch QC. Patrick Magee as portrayed by the BBC. Bobby Sands as portrayed by popular S4C comedy ‘Shameless’.
I suppose you think you’re fucking hilarious.
That’s not what we’re here to talk about.
Listen, do you actually write for metal hammer? I mean this here, my possibly being or not being here, is comedy gold, and you’re doing fuck all with it. You’re just sitting about in your living room, giddy as fuck, listening to shitting Burzum? Seriously? Are you for fucking real?
You’re disappointed? My pen name is Upman Hampton.
Fuck this. I’m going back to The Garage. Coming?
Very funny. For dinner tonight I had a burger with some sweet chilli sauce, some cheese too. Next comes salad, and then, regret. I am still here. I endure eternal, listless. I am Desmond, many-stomached.
I’M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!
More shite mediacore pandering to every other facebooking-feel-good-funster looking to take on the white man’s burden. Get real you fucking arseholes, the internet is not your lawless domain and the day you got that bullshit into your head was the day you became an IRREVOCABLE PART OF THE FUCKING SYSTEM. I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHEN YOU SIT THERE, ALONE, BEHIND A COMPUTER, DO YOU HONESTLY FEEL LIKE YOU’RE A PART OF SOMETHING? DO YOU FEEL CAUGHT UP IN A WAVE? WHAT IS IT MADE OF? THE INTERNET EXISTS TO BREAK THE KNEES AND SMASH THE FUCK OUT OF THE SHIT YOU LOVE BEFORE PUTTING IT BACK TOGETHER INTO SOMETHING THAT WILL POLICE YOU AS EFFECTIVELY AS THE PIGS THEMSELVES. I KNOW WHO JOSEPEH KONY IS – YOU PUT A STICKER OF HIM ON MY DOOR AND I’LL HAND YOUR ARSE BACK TO YOU EVERY DAY FOR AS LONG AS YOU ‘LIVE’. Smoke Weed Fuck Cops Listen to Darkthrone.
Jason Russell is a racist, patronising, belittling wasteman. Fucking GREAT expression that. ‘Wasteman’. A complete waste of a man. Genius.
2 K’s out of five. I’m going to have a curry to calm myself down. Shit’s gotten out of hand.
– Desmond Prince