Since my starring role in the "The Devil pulls teeth out" availabe on dvd from "deep throat" adult entertainment.....

When I breathe in I can exhale through my left ear!

I'm off to join the circus!

I did have a good time in Rome (I think) but halfway through the trip I developed SEVERE toothache

Back home an emergency check up confirmed an abscess under a big tooth in my
lower jaw. Holy molars - Sorry I don't do technical dentistry jargon.

What follows after this is worse than a hammer house of horrors
nightmare!!!!! I had to wait 3 days for treatment and by that time I was
going out of my mind with pain. Eventually I was seen a day earlier than my
scheduled emergency appointment. By this time I hadn't slept or eaten
properly and had lost the will to live.

But it gets worse. When I saw him, for what I considered to be some routine root canal treatment, can root canal work ever be routine, he informed me that the roots had calcified and he had to take the whole tooth out. Not being in the position to debate this. I nodded feebly and he carried on drilling. A nice burning smell pervaded the small abattoir (aka a treament room)

He couldn't pull it out. The roots where too deep and curved
backwards. For a whole hour, I was lying back in the dentist chair, my
lower lip quivering with shock. He started to stress (he started to
stress!!!!!) and after part of my tooth broke off and flew across the room,
blood and pink tissue flying everywhere, he admitted it was the hardest
extraction he had ever done. I got the distinct impression he would have put his knee on my chest for more leverage. After this he announced that I would have to go for surgery the following morning for root extraction.

I was swiftly sent packing with a three coarse sutures in the black hole
and a wad of bandage in my mouth.............

Could it get any worse? Well, actually yes. Liverpool lost to Chelsea 1 nil.

This morning I had my surgery in a dental hospital.

Rome? Rome? Did I go to Rome? I think that was all a dream!!!

Piazza del popolo - Roma

On a glorious Sunday morning this view presented itself just a minute's walk from my hotel.

Four days in Roma and the weather complemented a beautiful city.

The only blot on the horizon was I came back with mal denti. We have all heard of pasta being served al dente. But in my case it is mal denti. Commonly known as bad toothache or better still a tooth abscess! Kerrist in the bullrushes! My jaw is on fire. My neck glands are swollen and my ear is alight. No! Please don't mention Desmond Dekker.

This cannot be blamed on the food I hasten to add. But just one of life's little surprises. Just when you thought everything in the piazza was peachy.

"A3 (ACOUSTIC): The acoustic (and unplugged version) of the oddest musical outfit to arise from late-'90s London. They were also the most original. The band's origins are shrouded in urban myth - the band like to claim that the three core members met in rehab, while their Southern accents have many believing they are from the U.S. state of Alabama, although it appears vocalists Rob Spragg and Jake Black met at a London rave when Spragg heard Black singing Hank Williams' "Lost Highway." Bonding, they set out about creating an agenda of Americana, electronica, leftist politics, and laughter. Joined by DJ Piers Marsh, the trio issued two 12" dance singles that combined their interest in gospel and country music, yet these went over the heads of the London dance scene. In Italy, where Spragg and Black began singing Howlin' Wolf songs over Marsh mixes, the idea of the band began to take shape and back in Brixton, South London, they recruited a crew of musicians to shape their vision. This, combined with brilliantly theatrical live shows, meant the band attracted a huge South London following long before they had a record deal. Signed to One Little Indian, their 1997 debut, Exile on Coldharbour Lane, was a groundbreaking work that effortlessly fused gospel, country, blues, and house music. Dubbed "chemical country," Alabama 3 broke down the barriers between line dancers and ravers. The band's penchant for absurdity was displayed in Spragg and Black's insistence on singing, rapping, and preaching in deep Southern accents alongside samples of cult leader Jim Jones preaching Maoist philosophy and the renaming of all members -- Spragg became the Reverend Larry Love; Black became D. Wayne Love. Yet the songs were strong and imaginative and their observations on contemporary U.K. culture were spot-on: country and blues were used to look at the excesses of dance culture -- all with a pumping 808 beat behind them. The band was picked up on by U.K. roots DJs Charlie Gillet and Andy Kershaw, but the U.K. music press, in the height of its infatuation with Britpop, ignored the group or derided them as a novelty. Fortunately, U.S. audiences displayed a greater degree of irony and cult TV series The Sopranos employed the band's "Woke Up This Morning" as it's theme music. Unfortunately, country-lite vocal outfit Alabama sued over the group's name, which means in the U.S. Alabama 3 are now known as A3. Album number two, La Peste, followed in 2000 and found the band in more muted form. Again, the gospel-country-blues axis was there and the shows were wonderfully outrageous but it appeared that two years of touring and a stronger awareness of the mounting casualties of rave culture and New Labor Britain had made the band wear a bleaker face. Where their debut cheekily nodded at the Stones' seminal double-album, La Peste shared with it a bleak, murky sound that demanded the listener dig into the songs to discover their meaning. Again, the album failed to reach beyond a cult audience which makes one wonder – are A3 simply too original for these conformist times?"

.........taken from somebody, somewhere after the best gig ever. Can't be arsed to write it mesen.

Dedicated to a certain person. You know who you are - strobe life.

If you are lucky in life you can usually avoid the Post Office.

I know I may have covered this before but I really can't get away from the fact that our Post Office smells like..........................well actually I can't quite put my finger on the smell. Thankfully.

I have given it some thought though over the last few days. Simply because somebody witless left their telephone charger at my house.

So standing in a queue (not at the Pink Flamingo) at the flaming Post Office a wave of musty clothes and destitution pervaded the air.

That's it - musty clothes and destitution.

If you are really lucky it smells like piss. Well the one in Winchester did the day I was posting somebody a pair of new slippers.

Sigh! It's the glamour of metropolitan living to be sure!

I finally attended the Alabama 3 gig on Friday 6th April.

WHAT A BLAST (43 double vodka and cranberries later)!

WHAT A BAND (the very hallowed, reverend Robert Love sang, drank, smoked and cussed like a whore in a catfight and never missed a word, a chord, a beat)!

The venue was very Berlin circa 1930s. Dark, intimate, womb-like even. All black and red. Sticky floors and spindly plastic chairs. In a word - ROUGH.

Unbelievably A3's rapstyle preacher mon the very reverend JT sat next to me. And note: He sat next to me. Not me next to him. Well simply put, I was there first. I wasn't even star struck as it was so dark in the club I never realised just who it was until he got on stage. Then I went all girlie and gasped.

Those guys pushed it out real good with no drums just a vocalist, an accoustic guitar, a harmonica and a bird with a voice clearer and sharper than a virgin razor blade.

The songs included the hit "woke up this morning" the theme tune to "The Sopranos" and "Bulletproof" (up against the wall, you motherf**ker).

Let's just say you wouldn't wanna debate the issue.

Needless to say if you don't know of Alabama 3 this homage is meaningless but this quality live entertainment cost just £15 per ticket. And so far has been the highlight of my year.

"I've been (always was) converted"