For photographic purposes

HIYAA!!

Space

“Human nature dictates that we are pleasure-seeking beings and require elements of enjoyment in our lives. It gives our existence on planet Earth more meaning. Some people turn to religion, some take up golf or squash, others dabble in a cocktail of drugs and alcohol. Some social misfits even rely on their pet poodle’s entry into dog shows to get their kicks.

But over the last few millenia it has become increasingly apparent that a new drug is slowly creaping up on all of us, one that could potentially put our whole species at risk: SPACE.

SPACE is everywhere and it’s continually growing. There is Space between your private property and that of your neighbours; there is Space between the end of your sentence and the beginning of your next; there is Space taken up by your big, fuel-guzzling Saab; there is Space taken up by your fat, biscuit-eating sister; there is a Space where you once went clubbing with a mate called Dangerous Dave; there is also a Space you once saw live on stage; there is Space on an Excel spreadsheet waiting for data; there is Space inside a bubble-wrap bubble waiting to be deflated; there is Space that the shuttle travels out to, but has difficultly getting back from; there is Space that Stanley Kubrik created an Odyssey for; there is Space between your first joke’s punchline and the subsequent laugh at open-mike comedy night; there is Space between weekends called work; there are Space wars that take place between high street gangs such as Nike, Top Shop and Boots; there is Space that old people occupy; some people even confess to wanting more of their own ‘personal’ Space.

Allegedly, Russia has 17,075,200 square kilometres of SPACE in it’s possession (compared to that of The Principality of Liechtenstein which only has a-160 sq km supply). Apparently, the Space that an adult mind owns is 4 billion cubic thought metres, whereas a totally innocent and unbiased newborn baby uses a massive 8 billion cubic thought metres. Disturbing stuff I’m sure you’ll agree. Perhaps most frightening of all though is the fact that the millions of Earth-dwellers who use a personal computer at work will, on average, use their keyboard’s ‘space’ button up to 300 times a day!

I went out into the street to ask the general public what they thought: of these ominous figures. One SPACED-crazed 5 year old youngster told me he wanted “to go into SPACE to fight the aliens”. An old lady, who was quite obviously out of her mind on SPACE, told me she “didn’t have enough SPACE for her geraniums”. Clearly, this is a local, regional, national, even international problem.

I’m Kip Licher, and I’m going undercover on tonight’s show to find out exactly what the governments of this world intend on doing about this predicament. Welcome to tonight’s show, ‘SPACE: the fight for our lives’.”

[TV show intro fades in]

I Woke Up Drunk Again

“I woke up drunk again,” came the inappropriate ooze, treacle-thick with chuckles. The way she told me was as though I was on her side and that we had got drunk together. Using the phone to relay her irresponsible predicament meant that I wasn’t able to stand beside her and witness her pathetic display, thankfully. It would have been sickening.

“You don’t sound drunk to me,” was my reply.

“I’ve had a couple of strong coffees and a shower, but…” and then she trailed off into a yawn. She began to mumble, either to herself, in her private intoxication, or mistakenly to me, as though I was actually paying attention. Pointless either way really.

Once her charm offensive was over and I was forced to return to my natural role in her life, the conversation ended abruptedly. She could’ve spewed forth more excuses and apologies but my patience was being eroded rapidly. I’m sure if I were to sit down now and think about it for a long time I could recall some of the things she had started to tell me, but the standard “I woke up drunk again” always expended my enthusiasm.

Should I feel guilt for regarding her with so much disdain? Perhaps secretly, even from myself, I exaggerated my authority over her because I found her, and the irresponsible life-cycle she appeared to subject herself to, appealing. Was it alluring to see her as a “woke up drunk” kind of person, or was I just unaware of the human condition known as ‘fun’. My supremacy was a conduit to condemn. I doubt it would have made any difference anyway. If it hadn’t been me that reminded her she was under contract and needed to get to work as soon as poosible, then I’m sure someone else would’ve instead.

Laura Louise Johnson, aged 22, junior medical periodical journalist, stranger to some, acquaintance to others, colleague of mine, daughter to some poor folk. Drove her car too fast to work today, after she’d “woke up drunk again”.

Brandon Block

(First published in October 2005)

In Apocalypse Now Martin Sheen told us that, “Everyone gets what they want. I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one”. He was about to head upstream into volatile territory in order to communicate with Colonel Kurtz, the crazed leader of a mass of maddened minions.

Brandon Block, dance-music’s own Marlon Brando, is a producer, an Ibiza-Godfather, a long-time doyen of the dance floor, and a thoroughly agreeable chap. As long as it revolves at 45 rpm and isn’t nailed down Brandon Block will mix it. ‘Blocko’ plays Detached this month at The Telegraph alongside antipodean funsters Supermagic.

So Brandon, you’ve been around for about 480 years now, and you’ve played so many clubs that if you laid them end to end they’d probably go to the moon and back - why The Telegraph gig?
- Basically I’m starting the night at The White House in Clapham and was asked if I could nip over to Brixton to finish the job off. I’ve heard good things about Detached – a music-friendly crowd who’ll appreciate all genres. We’ll be playing some funky house, electro house, soulful house…

Semi-Detached house?
- Ha ha!

Two in one night?
- It used to be a common thing for me to do 2 or 3 gigs on a Friday night but its not so much like that any more.

Getting older?
- Yeh, something like that mate.

What’s your favourite residency?
- Probably the Honey Club in Brighton, and obviously Space in Ibiza when I was doing it.

People always ask you about the best clubs and the best crowds, but rarely ask you about the accommodation situation at all these great places. Ever been to any hotels that blew your mind?
- I usually just drive home actually. No matter where I am. I was in Leeds last night and I drove home. However, I have stayed in the 7-star Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai and it is ridiculous!

Can you name 5 famous talking cats?
- Sylvester, Felix, the Cheshire Cat, the one Ben Stiller did the voice for in Madagascar, and Simba from Lion King!

Nice job!

I once saw you play at Mezzanine in Wolverhampton with a roomful of sweaty, grinning Midlanders and my little brother. It was a wicked night, not without incident, but can we just clear up, for my brothers sake, is London ‘da biznizz’ when it comes to clubbing?
- Mezzanine? Bloody hell, thems were good days! It depends, certain London clubs are definitely ‘da bizznizz’, but there are other clubs around the country that also have great nights.

You’ve done more Ibiza mix CDs than I care to shoplift, plus with the help of your mate Alex P you’ve been pivotal to the island’s status in British music - so do you consider Ibiza your real home and will it ever be as good as it used to be?
- I don’t think I could ever recreate the times that Alex and I had there. We were there from the outset, through most of the madness. Well, we were the ones causing it, to be honest. It’s not my real home but it’s still the best place to go and party whenever you want.

How much money would it take to erase those memories?
- Ooh, about 400 quid. Nah, just joking! Nothing would make my life perfect, unless you count reliving all those memories again I spose.

Have you got anything you’d like to plug that we can look forward to?
- Nothing in the pipeline right now, but coming up to Christmas its all a bit hectic. I’m going to start producing again in a couple of weeks, hopefully with the old Blockster boys again.

On your website www.brandonblock.com there is a chatroom discussion about whether or not you’re the kind of bloke that would say (or even write) the words “thanks sweetie”, in whatever context. Can you clear up this argument once and for all?
- Thanks sweetie? No, I don’t say that. I say “Cheers gorgeous”.

Thanks sweetie.
- You’re welcome gorgeous.

So, genres that don’t have the word ‘house’ in their name, who do you like to rock out to?
- I love old hip hop, ‘Rappers Delight’ and that sort of stuff. LL Cool J is one of my favourites too.

Can you demonstrate your rapping skills for us now?
- Not a chance. At least not whilst I’m driving.

Your musical range, much like your demeanor, is, for want of a better phrase, all over the place: Breakbeat, old skool, funky house, peaking trance – can you give us an explanation?
- I wouldn’t say ‘all over the place’, ‘eclectic’ is the word I’d use. It depends where I’m playing really. If I know I can get away with something then I’ll play it. If its something that I know the crowd can appreciate, perhaps doing something a bit different, then I’ll do it. If they are not up for it, then I’ll play what they want to hear. Ideally I like to drop a few obscure classics in, but its not always applicable.

As a person on the inside track of the Olympic stadium known as dance music you no doubt have your finger on the pulse – so do you have any info you can share about who and what tunes to watch out for over the next 6 months?
- Its very hard to predict anything. I think Breaks are always going to be around. Hip Hop is still going to be a big part of it too. I’d love to see Hip-House come back in a big way. I love Hip-House!

Do you really love it?
- I really do!

Have you ever got in a fight with anyone famous other than the odd Rolling Stone at a major awards ceremony?
- Me and JK (of Jamiroquai) had a little tussle once. It didn’t come to blows though. Back in 1989, before JK started singing, the promoter at this Ealing club I was playing at introduced us and told me JK was going to play keyboards that night. He played like Adamski and, to be honest, I didn’t think he was that good. So I told him, “Oi mate, sorry, but you have got to go!” We’re good mates now and it’s been a long-standing joke ever since.

ASBO in ASDA OR Quickie in Kwik Save?
- An ASBO in ASDA, for definite.

Rollercoaster OR rollerdisco?
- Rollerdisco, I reckon.

What do you think of the new rollerdisco they have at Bagleys?
- I haven’t been yet but I’m an old roller-skater so I might nip down there one week and get my old spinning out.

And finally, cockney rhyming slang for Brandon Block?
- The answer Brandon gave is, unfortunately, unprintable. Despite the fact he was sitting next to his Mum at the time.

Money for nothing

What’s this? They’re giving out FREE money for just sitting on your derriere all day? Where do I sign up? Surely this could be London’s best-kept money making secret.

Medical trials, they’re a funny old game. However, for some of you the idea of being a human guinea pig might not be that funny at all. But trust me, I’ve been through three jobs, two girlfriends and one marriage since my first trial and I’m still standing. In fact I’ve done so many, I’m now actually a new breed of superhero after a bizarre mix up in the lab between my blood and that of a mutant spider-fish-wolf.

Being sceptical and being scared of turning into a zombie go hand in hand. But lets face it, how many of you clubbers out there swallow ‘medication’ from some dodgy geezer called Dangerous Dave every Saturday night? It’s safer inside with the Whitecoats than out on the town with you nutters!!

Now, we’ve all heard the myths about these trials: getting your big toe lopped off for ten grand, or how about stopping your heart, just for a second mind, in return for the princely sum of £5,000? Is there any truth to these rumours? Hardly. The strangest trials I’ve seen with my x-ray vision eyes were one requiring a simple scraping from some lucky fella's lung and another that involved much drinking of vodka and orange juice at an ungodly hour of the day. And the Viagra trial? Well, who can really say what goes on behind those screen partitions!?

My closest personal experience with anything slightly Clockwork Orange was an injection into my stomach that replicated the effects of Alzheimer’s. I was then given a secondary drug to bring me out of the resulting disorientated state. Thankfully, my toes were all still attached when I came to.

The rules, though, can seem quite draconian to your everyday free spirit - with restrictions on your diet, alcohol consumption and sporting activity. Even your sex life is strictly ‘watched’ over. Give a man a rule, though, and he will no doubt try to break it. I’ve heard of occasions when stealing a sachet of tomato ketchup from the lunch trolley could cost a man £50 in fines. I’ve even seen a grown man risk it all for a dry cheese cracker.

The folk you meet ‘inside’ are very strange (where else would I have learnt how flagrant the Afrikaans language is), and stranger still are their plans to use their newfound wealth. Just recently I met a gent who was using his money to become the first black man to swim the English Channel; another was putting all his money into his entrepreneurial catering supplies business whilst living off the benefits in sunny Spain; and my favourite was the South African guy who wanted to use his trial money to set up an internet porn company. And they say the drugs don’t affect the volunteers’ compos mentis!

Despite the tendency to daydream about pizzas and cold pints of Guinness more than any grown man should do, when that cheque is firmly in your hand after your final blood test, it is tantamount to winning the lottery. You feel absolutely elated.

So, those of you who are a bit short of cash or just find it difficult to meet interesting people anywhere else in London, try contributing your body to medical science. You never know, it might be catching. Just hopefully not in an ‘infectious disease’ sort of way.