What Song Are You Listening To, Right Now?

The Logical Song - Supertramp

Now watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical,
liberal, fanatical, criminal.
Won't you sign up your name, we'd like to feel you're
acceptable, respecable, presentable, a vegtable!
 
http://myspace.com/loslonelyboys


Listen to MY Way on this site!

Its like the Almond bros, Santana mixed with Blues.

These Guys are three brothers and only in their mid 20s.

They have all played instruments since they were in single digits and their Dad was a professional musician.

They play like band that has been Playing together 15 years..... well they have.

Amazing musicians ,great voices and Oh so smooth.

Los Lonely Boys!
 
Aside from New Year's Eve, tonight is probably one of the worst nights for the hard drinking pub fancier. This is solely due to one factor - the young shaver celebrating exam success. Now, don't go getting the idea that this cove begrudges the budding scholar a celebratory glass of champagne or pint of vodka and orange. Far from it.

Oh yes, i know it is hard to believe that this cultured sophisticate was once an uncouth youth swilling low-rent lager-beer and cider cocktails before trawling the bars and clubs for pie-eyed ladies with self esteem issues. Now, with a more mature eye, i look back on my actions with revulsion and disgust. It's strictly premium lager these days, by jove.

However, i fondly remember my own post A-Level revelry. One of my terrible acquaintances, upon catching sight of our old geography teacher, invoked the cutting wit of Wilde himself, exclaiming - "You're a fuckin' puff you are" before attempting a left hook powerful enough to spark out Mike Tysons himself. As he spun through approximately 420 degrees face-first into a rapidly approaching wall, it became clear why the professional boxer eschews the pre-bout bottle of Campari.

Two other fine gentlemen in my entourage spent the early hours slumbering in a hedge and on the 14th hole of a golf course respectively. One overindulgent chap was taken to hospital to have his stomach pumped. With my cast iron-stomach and hardy constitution i was, naturally, unscathed. I am skill.

Nevertheless, the trouble with youngsters today is that, when it comes to alcohol, they just do not know when to stop.

'Drinking Song' - Akira the Don
 
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Montag ist hier. Schlecht!

That was German, by the way, the language of love. Careful with that boys, you'll have the ladies dripping like a leaky radiator if you're not careful.

Hmm...not too sure what to say today. According to the tabloid newspapers Britain is in anarchy. Seems to have passed me by somewhat. I know we didn't have anarchy on Friday, but over the course of the weekend we have been inundated with gallons of the stuff, apparently.

Things are looking a little dicey on the international front as well, what with all this tittle-tattle about giving Iran a cheeky slap. It's enough to give a chap the heebie-jeebies, what? I knew i shouldn't have picked Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in my Fantasy World Leaders squad. Turmoil.

'World Shut Your Mouth' - Julian Cope
 
Aside from New Year's Eve, tonight is probably one of the worst nights for the hard drinking pub fancier. This is solely due to one factor - the young shaver celebrating exam success. Now, don't go getting the idea that this cove begrudges the budding scholar a celebratory glass of champagne or pint of vodka and orange. Far from it.

Oh yes, i know it is hard to believe that this cultured sophisticate was once an uncouth youth swilling low-rent lager-beer and cider cocktails before trawling the bars and clubs for pie-eyed ladies with self esteem issues. Now, with a more mature eye, i look back on my actions with revulsion and disgust. It's strictly premium lager these days, by jove.

However, i fondly remember my own post A-Level revelry. One of my terrible acquaintances, upon catching sight of our old geography teacher, invoked the cutting wit of Wilde himself, exclaiming - "You're a fuckin' puff you are" before attempting a left hook powerful enough to spark out Mike Tysons himself. As he spun through approximately 420 degrees face-first into a rapidly approaching wall, it became clear why the professional boxer eschews the pre-bout bottle of Campari.

Two other fine gentlemen in my entourage spent the early hours slumbering in a hedge and on the 14th hole of a golf course respectively. One overindulgent chap was taken to hospital to have his stomach pumped. With my cast iron-stomach and hardy constitution i was, naturally, unscathed. I am skill.

Nevertheless, the trouble with youngsters today is that, when it comes to alcohol, they just do not know when to stop.

'Drinking Song' - Akira the Don


I love this one!
 
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