Whitmore Reans Gazette

Do you know this man?

2007-04-09T17:07:00.000+01:00

Whitmore Reans Gazette are looking for embarrassing photographs of this man. If you`ve got any, please contact us. Compensation could be negotiated

Appropriate Courting

2007-04-09T13:33:00.000+01:00

To all you filthy, unromantic bastards out there: This is how an english gentleman goes about his business. And as you can see from the last photo, the mother of the young maid seems quite pleased with the amourous approach as well.

Zombie Watch

2007-04-08T00:56:00.000+01:00

Here they come again.

Zombies vs Vegetarians

2007-03-30T01:10:00.000+01:00

Jamie, an occasional reader of this blog, recently left a post where he questions how I could ever get tired of the view from my window, arguing I have the customers from the Adult Pleasure shop to look at. Well Jamie, those people don`t really get to me, as they don`t make a lot of noise.

What does get to me, is the army of drunken students shouting out for kebab three meters below my bed every night. They`re very much like zombies. Just not as charming. Look at these two, for example, pondering whether they should shout KEBAB! or PIZZA! once they make it across the street.

A man could very easily loose all faith in mankind in this environment. At least I get to appreciate those wonderful vegetarians who don`t bother me with drunken clichés at night, as they`re somewhere else. Why can`t they all be vegetarians?

Go and tell it to the trees

2007-03-29T23:04:00.000+01:00

As I`m going to Nottingham tomorrow, I`m posting these photographs from the Sherwood forest. Unfortunately, there is no battle between good and evil going on in there. But they do have some redicilously old oak trees. Such a shame you`re not allowed to climb them.

Spring

2007-03-25T16:55:00.000+01:00

Whitmore Reans Gazette hereby declare spring in The Black Country for officially opened.

WHITMORE REANS GAZETTE GOES TABLOID

2007-03-23T15:39:00.000Z

But only for this post.

These shocking photographs were taken during a journalist student party at The Student Union in Wolverhampton. God help the english educational system.

Vraslosken has been at work again

2007-03-22T19:50:00.000Z

I have recently spent a week working for this "newspaper". I am not going to tell you which one it is, but it is one of the daily Red-Tops. I did editorial work for them - but not the spread shown here. I am happy to report I still have my personal integrity and ethics intact.

Den Tenksomme Vraslosken is destined for better things.

Subterranean Homesick Blues

2007-03-22T16:17:00.000Z

This is the view from my window. I am tired of it.

Dirty Old Town

2007-03-22T15:49:00.000Z

As I`ve just celebrated St. Patricks Day with my irish flatmate and other irish folk, I publish this snapshot from Temple Bar, Dublin. I went there in february for an Irish folk music festival. The guy to the right, with the flute, fell off his chair having played all the verses of "Fields of Athenry". If you don`t know that song, you`re an english imperalist swine. Yeah.

Extreme weather conditions

2007-02-09T11:36:00.000Z

It is snowing in the Midlands.

Yesterday I took part in a massive snowball war outside the University library - and of course I won. British students and football hooligans are much more sympathetic when they are throwing snow balls and not beer bottles.

Robin Hood Jr.

2007-02-03T11:27:00.000Z

This photograph was snapped in the Sherwood forest, just outside Nottingham. As you can see, the english are once again preparing themselves for a long campaign. Good luck to them.

Postcard from Broad Street

2006-11-14T15:20:00.000Z

This is what the beautiful Broad Street, Wolverhampton, looked like this morning. The photograph is taken from my kitchen. The building on the other side of the street is a hostel. (Not a Youth Hostel filled with happy kids, a HOSTEL.)

Rubbish collection

2006-10-20T14:54:00.000+01:00

As some of my regular readers will know, I am interested in the challenges concerning the rubbish collection in the West Midlands.

I have moved out of Whitmore Reans and into the city itself, where the rubbish collection situation is far worse than out in the suburbs.

Being challenged with this problem, I was pleased to find this press release at Birmingham Councils home page:

Litter crackdown is launched

Environmental Services
Reference Number 9210
Press contact:
Kris Kowalewski 0121 303 3621
Issue Date
19 October 2006

During the initial crackdown, each of the constituency’s four wards – Hodge Hill, Shard End, Washwood Heath and Bordesley Green – will be visited each week by a litter enforcement officer and a representative from the police. (YES. This is the only way of dealing with this problem!) Operating locations and times will be varied from week to week, to make the operation more effective. (Yeah, right...) And during their tours the team will visit known litter hotspots, (I could show them a few!) follow up information leads provided by residents and seek out individuals in the process of dropping or dumping rubbish. (Fact is, I have seen the kind of people who do dump rubbish on the street. You need an armed police officer to approach them) Those caught dropping litter incorrectly could face a range of punishments from a £75 on-the-spot fine (OOOOOH) through to prosecution in the courts. (OOOOOOOOOOH) Birmingham Community Safety Partnership has supplied £25,000 that to fund the scheme, part of an ongoing campaign by the city council to educate people to dispose of litter correctly. Cllr Neil Eustace, Chair of the Public Protection Committee, said: “We want to clear up the streets and give people an environment they can be proud to call their home. “Every bit of litter on the streets of Hodge Hill has been left by someone and we want to encourage a more responsible attitude amongst residents so they dispose of litter correctly. “The City Council will not hesitate to take strong enforcement action when people fail to do so – this exercise will undoubtedly contribute towards achieving a cleaner, greener Hodge Hill. ”Cllr Ansar Ali Khan, Hodge Hill Constituency Chair, added: “Cleaning up the streets right across the Hodge Hill Constituency is top priority for many residents and we are pleased to be partnering the police in introducing this litter enforcement exercise. “We hope it will send a powerful message that dropping litter is both unacceptable and will not be tolerated."

Whitmore Reans Gazette will be back with more..

Blog revival ahead

2006-10-20T14:42:00.000+01:00

Hello people! (?)

As you may or may not know, I haven`t updated my blog in a while. This is due to my summer in Norway (...) and a lack of internet connection at home since I got back to the UK. Being a model student, I can`t mess about with my blog while at Uni. That being said, I will be back online at home in a matter of days, get ready for more!

Still at work

2006-07-07T16:04:00.000+01:00

Den Tenksomme Vraslosken is still working as a journalist in Bergen, Norway. Shooting the photographs required for a story on a Gallery opening - Den Tenksomme Vraslosken is starting to really enjoy his summer.

Photo: Christian Bøen /Termodress

Vraslosken at work

2006-05-31T15:01:00.000+01:00

Den Tenksomme Vraslosken has left Whitmore Reans. He now find himself working as a journalist at a newspaper in Bergen, Norway. He won`t return to Whitmore Reans, but will be found somewhere close by come september.

Leaving the scene of the crime after an interview with some Norwegian Art Students, Den Tenksomme Vraslosken is in good spirit.

Photo: Siv Dolmen

Ballad of the Broken Seas

2006-05-03T01:14:00.000+01:00

Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell
Ballad of the Broken Seas (2006)
Review by Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

It‘s been two years since we last heard from the singer-songwriter and Rock and Roll sinner Mark Lanegan, it‘s been very quiet since the release of the critically acclaimed “Bubblegum”.

This time around he is collaborating with Isobel Campbell, best known for her work with Pop superstars Belle and Sebastian.

Just looking at the front cover tells you this is definitely an album for a rainy night. She is standing in front of a mirror, arranging her hair as if she is about to leave, while he is lying on the bed, reading a book. This solitude and sadness shines through in every single song.

It is a classic recipe that has proven successful in the past; put an angelic virgin together with a corrupted soul. Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue, Johnny Cash and June Carter, Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin. You can‘t go wrong with real men and sweet girls.

The deep and howling mutters and groans of Lanegan, combined with the half-whispered softness of Campbell‘s voice gives this album a deep, rich and compelling sound.

The first track is a cover of Hank Williams “Rambling Man”, a song you should treat with the respect it deserves. But with a voice like Mark Lanegan, you certainly could be excused for trying. With use of cellos, electrical guitar and deep bass-lines, he adds new life to the material. When he is moaning “when the Lord made me, he made a rambling man” you believe him, and Campbell‘s soft answer makes it all so beautifully sad.

This melancholic note follows in songs like “The False Husband” and "Honey Child What Can I Do?", where Lanegan’s songwriting comes to it‘s right. Lanegan is a man able to portray decay and loneliness in a way that sends shivers down your spine. The sadness of it all is relieved by the soft and tender voice of Campbell. Make no mistake, this is very sexy music.

Lanegan and Campbell are not doing anything that hasn‘t been done before, but it is solid, beautiful and never mediocre. The first half of the album is quieter than the last part, where Lanegan allows himself to play on a louder and heavier string.

Songs like "It's Hard to Kill a Bad Thing" and "Dusty Wreath" should fit like hand in glove for his hard-hitting live performances, and let‘s hope he somehow manage to lure Campbell with him.

This is one of the best albums I‘ve heard all year, and one that gives me faith in that there still is possible to squeeze fresh juice out of the four chords of Rock and Roll. Run and buy!

Red Billy

2006-05-01T16:34:00.000+01:00

Billy Bragg
Wolverhampton Wolfrun Hall
23 April 2006
Review by Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

The singer-songwriter and political activist Billy Bragg returned to Wolverhampton Wolfrun Hall last night, as he continued his Anti-BNP tour.

Part folk concert, part stand up comedy act, part sing-along and part political protest, seeing Bragg live gives you a real taste of what Billy is all about. On this occasion a near sell-out crowd of 40 and 50-somethings came together to celebrate the revolution that never was. Looking around me I realized I was among the youngest (and poorest dressed) in the crowd.

Playing solo, just him and his guitar, this was always going to be a personal and intimate experience. But as he slightly ironically started the set with his own English translation of the socialist anthem “The Internationale”, the grey haired audience joined in with looks in their faces which more than anything else expressed melancholy and memories of that socialist movement in the seventies and early eighties.

Accepting the applause that followed, Billy took the microphone, saying: “so now you‘re telling each other it‘s going to be one of those political Billy Bragg concerts?” The polite laughter that followed spoke volumes, and when he went on by telling us what we already knew, that the reason for his current tour is to make people aware of the threat imposed by the BNP, the political correctness of it all was hard to ignore. But still, political correctness is better than fascism, isn‘t it?

Billy Bragg is a well spoken and charismatic man, a man who is considered a spokesman of socialists and the working man. The problem is there weren‘t anybody to convince in this audience. I would be surprised if there was a single person present who are even contemplating voting BNP in the coming local election, or who prefers Adam Smith‘s analysis of economy to that of Karl Marx‘, for that matter.

Songs like “Northern industrial town” and “A new England” had the crowd singing along. Billy Bragg gave us what we wanted, as I looked around me I could tell just how much the audience enjoyed remembering their youth and times passed by.

But his set wasn‘t all politics, as one would expect from a Billy Bragg concert. His political protest set aside, this is a man who is considered one of the finest singer-songwriters of his generation.

Songs like “Everybody loves you babe” and “At my window sad and lonely” were embraced by a powerful yet sensitive applause, and served as a reminder there luckily is more to life than politics. There is also love.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

2006-04-19T04:41:00.000+01:00

As I`ve spent Easter in Whitmore Reans and not in Norway with my family, I have found time to do a lot of coursework for University. That is the positive part.

Among a few other projects I have written a book review, I`m thinking I should post it here for comments.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

By Jonathan Safran Foer

Review by Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

I wasn‘t in New York during the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Centre, but having read young American novelist Jonathan Safran Foer’s latest novel, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I now feel I have a very good idea what it must have been like.

Jonathan Safran Foer‘s debut book, “Everything is illuminated” (2002) granted him the Los Angels Times book award and was adopted into a film in 2005. He is seen as a spokesman of young Jews in America, and much have been expected of this second novel.

The story is one of how this day changed a young boy and his family. It is told through nine-year-old Oskar Schell, who‘s father died during that fateful day. The novel begins sometime after the attacks, as Oskar finds a mysterious key in his father‘s bathroom cabinet.

Oskar sets out on a journey through New York, leaving his traumatized mother and grandmother, trying to find a lock to fit the key left behind by his father.

Jonathan Safran Foer is at twenty-nine a very young novelist, and he is able to portray the innocent and fragile mind of a nine-year old. Oskar is a very intelligent young boy, and it is painful to see the horror caused by this day through the eyes of a child.

In addition to Oskar’s first person, the story is told through letters from Oskar’s grandfather to his son, Thomas, which adds to the mystery Oskar is nesting up through the course of the novel. It serves as a very successful technique in order to tell the story, and one that makes the story more trustworthy.

The book is also full of photographs and drawings, things Oskar collects through his journey. These images are probably intended to portray Oskar’s attempt to solve the mystery, but I found them distracting and feel they doesn‘t really add anything to the novel.

By the end of this story you know how that horrible day happened for all members of Oskar’s family, which closes the story very well. You are left feeling part of the pain and horror caused by this very important day in history, and if Safran Foer’s project is to make us understand this day better, I think he has probably succeeded.

The Whitmore Deans and spider movement

2006-04-03T01:32:00.000+01:00

Whitmore Deans
The Little Civic
Saturday 02/04/2006
Attendance: Ca. 150

As the name suggests, this is a local band. A cupple of the lads looked like they had just hit puberty, and the way they had angrily refused to cut their hair in any shape or form since becoming a teenager made me think of myself in that age.

I really didn`t know what to expect when I saw them make their way through the room, looking like what they undoubtedly were, awkward and nervous teenagers.

But once on stage, they had us moving playing excellent cover songs by The Specials and Madness. Wearing what must have been their dad`s old party outfit, their parents sound LP-collections and wise investment in music lessions came to good use.

In addition to the guitars, drums and bass - these lads made use of saxophone, trombone, electrical piano and lots of positive energy. They need to practice their dancing while playing if they really want to emulate their heroes, though. They couldn`t really do that, but I know what it`s like being in the middle of puberty. The co-ordination of your arms and legs is suffering.

But this was well worth my fiver, I found myself dancing, wishing I had a suit from the late seventies with a matching hat.

I also nearly got into a fight, caused by the caracteristic spider movement my Norwegian friends will know all about. I am six feet four and need a lot of space when dancing, I aslo easily get carried away in that state of mind.

I happened to knock somebody over, he fell to the floor and my laughing about it didn`t go down too well.

The young Deans of Whitmore Reans made all of this happen, and fortunately their happy faces got rid of the angry victim of my spider routine and any drunken idea of violence. I really can`t ask for more of a young local band.

Dr. Antti silently on the air

2006-03-24T23:45:00.000Z

Dr. Antti Sakari Saario (32) recently made his debut as a radio host on "Eclectic", a radio show broadcasted by Bailrigg FM, the Lancaster University student radio station. The Finn didn`t speak much, but listeners in Lancashire as well as an international internet audience heard some quirky, quality tunes.

"I really enjoyed the show and passed the good word on to other people, but I wish he could have spoken a bit more", Mr. Rune Svendsen, (30) an internet listener from Bergen, Norway, said. "Talking wasn`t really happening as I was very, very tired. I was just a guest and kept it low key", Dr. Saario told Whitmore Reans Gazette after the show.

Dr. Saario is a lecturer and Director of Studies in Music Technology at Lancaster University.

Council tax on the rise

2006-03-17T00:42:00.000Z

Council tax payers in Wolverhampton were today told they are facing a 4.9 percent increase. The rise takes effect in April and will see bills go up by between £40 and £120 a year.

"This is just another example of how useless Wolverhampton City Council is", Den Tenksomme Vraslosken says. "This is the old tale of politicians passing their responsibilities on to the public, I fail to see why the public should have to pay the bill for problems with budgets."

The 26-year old student says none of the public services covered by the Council Tax is working properly, and that the City Council should examine how the money is spent rather then passing the bill on to the public.

"The Council Tax is the only substantial revenue the City Council are able to control without Government interference, all other revenue is subject to Government funding and control. It’s just not fair giving the public the bill for your own inability to govern the city."

Pushwagner

2006-03-16T19:32:00.000Z

Den Tenksomme Vraslosken is currently designing a promotional web page on the Norwegian Pop Art artist Pushwagner as part of an assessment component from the University of Wolverhampton. Any advice as to design or comments on his work would be appreciated!

Hail Captain Ahab

2006-03-12T21:50:00.000Z

I have just re-read "Moby Dick" by Hermann Melville. I think I was about ten years old the first time I encountered Captain Ahab and his obsession with the white whale, and I can honestly say I missed out on a few paraphrases back then. My thought is this; the grown up reader isn’t necessarily better off than the child. (...)

What I always wanted to do

2006-03-02T23:21:00.000Z

I interviewed the British Punk/New Wave legend Wreckless Eric on a Saturday last December, as he was playing at a local pub. I never got my review published, the notebook from my interview has been in my drawer ever since. Now I‘m thinking I just have to post it here.

Feature
Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

During the end of the seventies he shared stage and record label with Nick Lowe, Ian Dury and Elvis Costello. He was part of that legendary Stiff Records tour. Then he disappeared. Now, Wreckless Eric is back on the road with new songs.

I met him ahead of his concert in Wolverhampton. The intimate Newhampton pub is the kind of venue you are likely to find him at these days. I know you shouldn‘t dwell too much on the past, but when you are talking with a man like Eric Goulden, it‘s really hard not to. “I went out of the public eye in 1980, a lot of people think I‘m dead”, he says while examining his pizza. He doesn‘t look dead. In fact, he looks like any other Brit in his late forties.

Obviously, I have to ask. What made you leave the music industry all those years ago? “Well, it was all very funny at the start. Touring the USA, Europe and New Zealand was fantastic. Hanging out with Nick (Lowe) and Elvis (Costello) was a lot of fun. Nick (Lowe) gave me money and sent me to Dublin to write songs, I usually wrote the songs in taxis on my way to band rehearsals. I had fun. But after a while it all became marketed, I felt expected to come up with witty songs about boys and girls. I lost my hunger and left it all behind.”

He‘s come a long way, Eric. After leaving Britain in 1985 he spent two years in a Parisian suburb drinking red wine as well as looking after his girlfriend’s garden. He then found peace of mind in the French countryside. In fact, it was so peaceful there he stayed for seven years. He started missing his friends in Britain and returned to regenerate his career in 1994.

During all this time he‘s been doing concerts and tours around Europe, but it‘s all been very quiet. Until now, that is. He is under new management, and tells me his career is finally moving in the right direction.

Yes, things are definitely happening. He‘s started his own label, Southern Domestic, after spending years trying to find a label interested in new songs. He also published his autobiography in the summer, called “A Dysfunctional Success”. He can see himself write another book, possibly a novel. “The boundaries blur these days, but being creative is really what it‘s all about”, he tells me as his manager taps him on the shoulder. It‘s time to be creative.

“Doing this is what I always wanted to do”, he says as we shake hands. What more can you expect from life, really?

Because of the snow

2006-03-02T17:48:00.000Z

It is snowing today. Last night I sat by my window looking on as it fell down into my back garden. It is such a beautiful thing. It makes even the ugliest landscape appear pure and clean.

Being used to the British weather, I was both pleased and surprised once it started coming down, and even more so once I realized it wouldn‘t just melt away. It was just too much of the wet stuff. About a centimetre of it was left on the ground this morning.

I‘ve come to understand the British panic when confronted with King Winter. On my way towards University I noticed the traffic ran smoother due to the centimetre of snow, people seemed to act with more care. I would be surprised if anyone was caught speeding in Wolverhampton today.

My lecturer asked us to be careful on our way home, “because of the snow.” It was probably something he said to be polite or just to round off his session, but I am going to take his advice to heart. Just because of the snow.

Billiards and life

2006-02-25T17:53:00.000Z

Editorial
Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

I went out people watching yesterday. At a family pub I took notice of a father and a son, the boy was playing billiards with his dad coaching him. The boy couldn‘t have been more than ten years old, but clearly had a special talent. He won every single game, playing grown men who couldn`t hide their embarrassment having to shake hands and admit defeat. He struck the balls down one after the other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

His dad was left proud and somewhat loud, as parents seem to be in that situation. Occasionally the boy looked towards his dad for advice; his dad would nod and offer directions.

Billiards is a fascinating game, and very much like life. Most of us miss the obvious shot now and again, shrugging our heads unable to understand how we managed to miscue the ball. Then we tell ourselves we are simply subject to laws of physics. But now and again something truly amazing happens, and we pocket a ball on a shot we didn‘t really believe in. I like it that way.

On my way home I told myself I might have seen the next Stephen Hendry, Ken Doherty or John Higgins, all of them legendary snooker players. Maybe I have. Maybe I haven`t. Either way, I‘m glad I went.

The boy done good

2006-02-20T02:26:00.000Z

Feature
Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

The difference between the tourist and the traveller is that while the tourist wants to move his home to a different location, the traveller seeks to understand his surroundings. At least that`s what a wise man told me once.

Having spent a lot of time traveling, I know where many people want to go is somewhere off the main road. The side road is usually the most interesting direction; this is where you are likely to find the kind of experiences you gain memories and perspectives from.

That is what I‘ve been telling myself. By meeting a fellow traveller at The City of Wolverhampton College, I might have changed my mind.

Anthony Pyne came all the way from Balbriggan, a coast town inside the Dublin area, to study Journalism and Editorial Design in the Midlands. We meet over a cup of coffee for a talk over nothing less than who we are and where we‘re coming from. “Balbriggan is a dead end town”, the 21-year old tells me. “Had I stayed there I really don‘t know what course my life might have taken.”

Anthony is quiet but well spoken. When talking about his Irish roots he becomes serious and subtle, seeking eye contact and understanding. I ask him what future he could see for himself in his home town, what he would have made for himself had he stayed behind in Balbriggan.

It‘s a question that would take the breath out of anyone, I know. Anthony leans back in his chair and adjusts his baseball cap, choosing his words with care. “I would have tried to find a job”, he says. “I would have tried to find work in a newspaper or at a radio station, but these days you need a University degree to do that, and that‘s the reason I came here.” We should be glad you‘re here then, I‘m thinking, drinking my coffee.

So you are telling me Balbriggan is not the place to be when pursuing a career in the media world, then? Anthony laughs. “No, it most definitely is not. It is a typical Dublin area town, expanding every month through new housing projects, supermarkets and pubs. The people living there commute to Dublin, those who actually have jobs, that is.” Anthony becomes quiet, swirling his spoon in his coffee. I have always thought people either love the town they are from or they absolutely hate the place. There is no in between. Or is there? Looking at Anthony I really don‘t know.

I put my theory to the test by telling him my experience, that lack of work goes hand in hand with social problems, and he nods. “Yes, that is the case. Balbriggan is pestered by drug dealing and alcohol related problems.” Anthony leans back and folds his arms, thinking through what he just told me. “But make no mistake, the majority of the people living there are decent and hard working, it‘s not all crime, problems and poverty.” He suddenly leans forward, eager to get his point across: “You see, fact of the matter is the Irish history is one of oppression and hurt, and the English don‘t understand this”, he says while looking into the depth of his cup of coffee. “Don‘t get me wrong, there is no hatred, but there definitely is a feeling of resentment.”

He pauses, considering his words carefully. “This feeling won‘t go away, but the wound is mending. The Irish economy is booming, and my Irish generation has the same opportunities as anybody else within the UK. I am going to do my very best to achieve my goals. There are no excuses not to make anything of myself, if there ever were any.”

Anthony becomes aware of his own voice, raises his eyebrows and leans back into his chair again. The speech is over, and I am left nodding slowly.

I`m thinking it is time to change the subject. Do you recycle, Anthony? He looks surprised, and asks me to repeat the question. “Recycle? No. I live in a shared house in Walsall; we have two wheeled bins, all the rubbish ends up there.” I tell him the Japanese store their rubbish underneath the sea, and that in Belgium forty percent of the rubbish gets recycled.

He looks unimpressed, folding his arms again. “I don‘t think a lot about recycling, to be honest. I have stopped thinking about saving the world. I have to save myself first!” We laugh, and I tell him I agree with that chain of priorities. “In China they eat dogs”, Anthony says, and gets up from his chair. By doing so, he is telling me the interview is over. He left me thinking, Anthony. I wonder whether Balbriggan will be in the back of my mind when I eventually get to see those green Irish hills. Somehow I don‘t think so.

Chinese luck

2006-02-17T18:03:00.000Z

Editorial
Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

A friend of mine sent me an e-mail a few days ago. It was a PowerPoint presentation offering me good fortune once I had sent it forward to twenty friends. It was done in the style of a Chinsese fortune letter, written by a Dutch missionary living in South Africa. I was told my good luck would change to bad luck if I didn‘t send the letter forward within 96 hours.

Being somewhat superstitious, I did forward it to a few of my friends. I didn‘t send it to the number of people advised, but some ten or twelve people, feeling somewhat stupid doing so.

The very next day things started happening. I slept in an awkward position resulting in back pain for the rest of the day, I spilled water over my favourite magazines, my mobile stopped working, my rucksack fell apart in the middle of the street and I ran out of vacuum cleaning bags, just to mention a bit of the bad luck I found myself subject to. I started thinking about that Chinese letter again.

Earlier today a friend of mine from University approached me at my work station asking me why I had sent him the Chinese letter. Being an Irish Catholic, he‘s far more superstitious than I am. I told him I thought he might need some good luck, but he didn`t buy that.

“OK, I have four hours left before the bad luck kicks in, and it‘s all your fault", he said. "Give me five addresses I can send that damned letter to.” I did send him the damned thing in the first place, so I found five addresses for him from my Hotmail. I could tell he was relieved.

On my way home from University I noticed a kid messing about on his own. He was five or six years old, kicking a street sign. He looked lost. As I walked past him, he looked up at me and said: “HEY, MISTER!” I looked down towards the little man. “Hey”, I said. “What‘s happening, my little friend?” He didn`t look very happy, rubbing his shoes against the pavement. “Do you know where Francis Street is?”, he asked me. I shrugged my head. “Are you lost? Do you know where your mum and dad are?” “I‘m living with my dad this week”, the little man said. “Ok, where is your dad, then?” “He‘s at the pub. I ran out, now I can‘t find my way back.”

I did the only thing a decent guy would do.

“Ok, no worries, we‘ll find him.” I looked around but there were no clues to be found, so I thought I should follow him to the nearest corner shop, they would probably know either him or his dad. But the kid wouldn‘t follow me anywhere, he ran down the street as fast as he could. I stood watching him for a while, considering what to do. I decided to run after him. “Stop!”, I shouted. “I just want to help!” He stopped, looking sceptically up at me. I told him he couldn`t mess about on his own, it was getting dark and he was getting hungry. He agreed to let me help him.

I brought him to the local Police station, where I was greeted as a good Samaritan. I hope everything turned out all right for the kid. I have to admit, I also hope my bad luck has run out. Maybe helping that kid was my good luck? I hope so.

Only a Ski Jumper truly knows

2006-02-13T01:08:00.000Z

As Norwegians tonight will be celebrating the Olympic gold medal won by Lars Bystol in the normal hill Ski Jumping contest, Whitmore Reans Gazette would like to lead your attention towards our neighbour Finland and their rich Ski Jumping culture.

This is Matti Nykänen, arguably the best Ski Jumper of modern times. The Finn won five Olympic medals and fifteen world championship medals during a career stretching from 1978-1990.

Sadly, since the 1990s his status as a celebrity has mainly been fueled not by his sport achievements, but by his colourful personal relationships, his career as a singer and various incidents often related to heavy use of alcohol and violent behaviour. Mr. Nykänen has been in the headlines of tabloids more often than any other person in Finland.

As so many other great sport personalities, Mr. Nykänen's career inextricably combined sheer genius with temperamental outbursts. Once he gave up the sport, the genius remained a heroic memory in the minds of his countrymen, but his continuing and widely publicized follies made him something of a national disgrace. Stories of domestic violence, multiple marriages and divorces, a career as a musical performer (resulting in such compositions as "Hai Hai Hai, mä oon sun samurai", roughly translated as "Hai, Hai, Hai, I am your samurai", and "Vain mäkimies voi tietää sen", roughly "Only a Ski Jumper truly knows") guaranteed more ridicule than respect.

A movie about the life of Matti Nykänen was released in 2006, with Finnish actor Jasper Pääkkönen cast as Matti. The English version of his biography "Greetings from Hell" was published in January 2006.

Ski Jumping

2006-02-11T03:03:00.000Z

The 20th Olympic Winter Games are held in Torino, Italy these days, Witmore Reans Gazette would like to lead your attention towards Ski Jumping, which clearly doesn`t get the coverage it deserves in the UK. The first Ski Jumping contest ever was held in Trysil, Norway in 1862, and has been part of the Olympic Games since 1924.

The sport is about skiing down a hill with a take-off ramp (the jump), attempting to go as far as possible. In addition to lenght, the referees give points for style, on a scale from 1 to 20. In terms of style, it is imperative to achieve the Telemark Landing, which is the correct way of landing - the skier must land with one foot in front of the other in style of the inventor of Telemark skiing and the man believed to be the first to ever Ski Jump, Sondre Norheim (1825-1897).

Ski Jumping is an old and dignified discipline norwegians have mastered for centuries. That is, until the day in 1991 when the swede Jan Boklov came up with a new technique called the V-technique, where the skis form a V in the air. This new style completely changed the aestethics of the sport, but also made the jumps longer than what had been achieved with the previous technique with parallel skis.

Modern Ski Jumpers make use of helmets and skintight jumpsuits in order to give as little air resistance as possible. The Skis used for Ski Jumping are wide and long.

While Norway are dominating the world of Ski Jumping, the only British athlete ever to have Ski Jumped is Eddie "the Eagle" Edwards, who took part in the 15th Winter Olympic Games (1988) held in Calgary, Canada. Edwards was handicapped by his weight, at about 82 kilos (180 pounds) he was more than 9 kilos (20 pounds) heavier than the next heaviest competitor. He finished last in both the 70 meters and 90 meters events. His poor results were probably due to his glasses, they fogged to such an extent that he could not see. Mr. Edwards was infamously described as a "Ski Dropper" by an italian journalist, but he is a legend in the world of Ski Jumping.

Whitmore Reans Gazette would like to take our norwegian and British readers down Memory Lane for this photo of Birger Ruud, who won an olympic medal in Lake Placid back in 1932.

It used to be such a beautiful sport, Ski Jumping.

50-year old meal

2006-02-10T01:09:00.000Z

A Wolverhampton couple celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary by opening the tinned whole cooked chicken they received as a wedding present 50 years ago. Mr. Les Lailey, aged 73, said: "I had it with some boiled potatoes and vegetables and it went down a treat. I knew I would be fine afterwards. I have not felt funny at all.” His wife, Mrs. Beryl Lailey, was less willing to risk spoiling her golden wedding anniversary with an upset stomach, but admits to having a bite.

Although a tinned chicken now sounds a strange wedding gift, back in the day of post war rationing it was a fine delicacy – the perfect start to married life. Amazingly, the Buxted Whole Cooked Chicken in Jelly stood it`s test in time, without any added preservatives except salt and the vacuum packing.

“The chicken was tinned in 1956, and eaten yesterday. You can certainly say the can did it‘s job”, Mr. Lailey said.

Norwegian oil exploration at halt

2006-02-06T21:36:00.000Z

“With the world struggling to find oil, one fracture of Norway‘s new left-wing coalition government is threatening to block or slow exploration of new areas that would replenish the falling reserves of the world‘s third-largest oil exporter”, The Wall Street Journal today reports.

As Whitmore Reans Gazette holds significant Norwegian interest and readership, we today spoke with Den Tenksomme Vraslosken, our expert on Norwegian politics, about the issue of Norwegian Oil exploration.

“As our finance minister Kristin Halvorsen points out, it is more important to encourage alternative sources of economic growth than to try to boost declining oil output by opening up new resource areas. We have a lot of opportunities in the environmental field, such as renewable energy and carbon-dioxide technology. We also have great opportunities for tourism.

Den Tenksomme Vraslosken tells us he voted for Mrs. Halvorsen‘s party, The Socialist Left Party (SV), during the election last year and that he is pleased with the governments policy on this issue. SV want to stop all development in the Barents Sea and the areas around the Lofoten Islands in the Norwegian Sea, arguing that petroleum extraction would irrevocably damage the fragile eco-systems, which environmentalists call some of the last pristine waters in Europe. “I grew up in the Lofoten Islands area myself, I just won‘t have any oil exploration up there”, Den Tenksomme Vraslosken says.

25% of the state‘s revenue comes directly from the petroleum sector and is by far the most important revenue for the state budget, says Per Kristian Foss, former finance minister and a member of the Right opposition party. Confronted with Mr. Foss‘ statements, Den Tenksomme Vraslosken says “Well, we got rid of him. Now let us have a go!”

Light Box unveiled in Whitmore Reans

2006-02-06T19:22:00.000Z

An anonymous Norwegian female artist today unveiled this Light Box model in a private house in Whitmore Reans. The model is made from resin (liquid plastic) and copper.

The artist tells us her model is designed for the Millennium Galleries in Sheffield, as a clue leading the spectator from ground floor towards the winter garden; it is intended to be mounted on square tiles on the walls and on the floor.

The model is part of a series of five, every piece having its own individual background colour which makes the light warmer as you approach the winter garden.

Whitmore Reans Gazette is excited about this new piece of art from Whitmore Reans own Norwegian artist, and promise to be back with more art in coming weeks and months.

Mayor gets in the Swing

2006-02-05T22:27:00.000Z

The Mayor of Wolverhampton, Councillor Phil Batesman, today invited local golfers to swing at a Wolverhampton club. The Mayor‘s Charity Golf Day is expected to raise more than £1.300 for local charities. Photographed along with local investors Terry Reynolds and Martin Stokes, the Mayor said he loved to swing, and that he has been looking forward to this for months.

Mr. Dave Smith of Carter Road is surprised by the Mayor‘s comments. “A swinger, is he? Well, I guess I‘m glad he‘s taken it upon him to swing for us, God knows I‘m no swinger myself”, the 32-year old laughs. “If his swinging could benefit charities in Whitmore Reans I can‘t see anything wrong with that.”

No rubbish collection problems in Paris

2006-02-05T18:09:00.000Z

A reporter team from Whitmore Reans Gazette recently returned from their City Break in Paris. Upon departure they promised a feature on the Parisians rubbish collection system, a comparison with the problems we are experiencing in Whitmore Reans - which possibly would interest regular readers.

They tell us the inner city areas of Paris are quite different from those of Wolverhampton,”it looks and smells completely different!” reporter Den Tenksomme Vraslosken urges. "Once I got there I realized I couldn`t write my feature. The situation is just too different to that of Whitmore Reans, it wouldn’t be right to compare our problems. I could clearly see the suburbs had some problems with their rubbish collection, I had a look at it on my way from Charles De Gaulle airport to Garde du Nord, but inner city Paris is a different story."

It seems our reporter team didn’t really care about rubbish once they got there, but they assure us Parisians don’t have many problems in that respect. We’re not quite content with the quality or length of their feature, but forgive them - they deserved a holiday.

Young goose leaves flock in West Park

2006-02-01T01:08:00.000Z

This young goose wandered off and left the flock today, Whitmore Reans Gazette understands. It was spotted standing on its own in West Park, expressing outrage towards the flock of geese messing about in the water. The animal stamped its feet and shrugged its head repeatedly while mocking the other geese. It seemed a few individuals in the flock answered, equally upset, by splashing their wings into the water while making absurd and plain ugly sounds. It is not quite clear what the brawl was all about, as it was impossible to make any sense out of the angry and loud animals. The goose got itself together when approached by the Whitmore Reans Gazette reporter, and posed dignified for a photograph.

Rubbish problems linger in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-31T19:40:00.000Z

This is what Craddock Street looked like tuesday morning. When confronted with this information, Elsie Blount of Carter Road said: "Poor sods. I never liked them (people living in Craddock Street) anyway". Whitmore Reans Gazette understands the pile of rubbish is left by a single resident in Craddock Street, and in no way the result of neglect from the City Council`s part.

Strange animal in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-31T14:23:00.000Z

This strange animal was spotted in a Whitmore Reans back garden tuesday morning. It disappeared as the flash broke. If anybody has any information regarding this animal, please contact Whitmore Reans Gazette.

E-mail from the public

2006-01-28T15:42:00.000Z

Whitmore Reans Gazette recieved this e-mail saturday morning:

"Excellent! I'm glad to see that Elsie Blount is finally getting the coverage that she deserves. Good work. Jamie Bellends."

Mr. Bellends, an Editorial Design student of Stourbridge, is obviously aware of Whitmore Reans Gazette`s significant norwegian interest and audience - the 26-year old has been kind enough to share some cultural know-how with us:

Cheese Slicer Invention:

Norwegian carpenter Thor Bjørklund did not like the way his wife cut the cheese so he started using one of his workshop tools. Everybody loved his cheese slicer and he patented his invention in 1927.

Thank you for your interest in Whitmore Reans Gazette, Jamie.

Artist unveil Hypnosis Machine in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-27T18:29:00.000Z

An anonymous Norwegian female artist today unveiled this magnificent piece of art. "It is an hypnosis machine", she says. The work is believed to be inspired by the lack of nature in Whitmore Reans. By swirling the handle (to the left) the brain (to the right) starts orbiting. "It is meant to work as a brain expander", she says. "My hope is this piece is able to make people more aware of how glorious the nature is."

Rubbish Collection Situation Resolved

2006-01-27T15:46:00.000Z

The rubbish collection situation is back to normal in Whitmore Reans, as all rubbish bins and recycle boxes were emptied friday morning. Mrs. Elsie Blount of Carter Road is relieved, the 73-year old pensioner says she`d been worried what might happen if the situation were to linger. "I`m glad it`s finally sorted", she says.

Mr. Alain Blount is content with this new development. The 76-year old says he was about to write a petition, as the pensioner sits in Whitmore Reans Liaison Commitee, an interest group for Whitmore Reans with City Council members sitting in at the meetings. "I`m relieved it didn`t come to that", he says. "As is stands, I`m just glad it`s all sorted. "

Rock Legend in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-26T02:28:00.000Z

The Rock Legend Robert Plant recently visited Whitmore Reans. When noticing the similarity between Mr. Plant and the youngster to his left you understand just how popular the 57-year old singer is in the local area!

Dave - The voice of Whitmore Reans

2006-01-25T04:01:00.000Z

It has come to Whitmore Reans Gazettes attention that a norwegian journalist, known as Polarprinsessa, allegedly have written in her coloumn that local pubs in Whitmore Reans are obsessed with music videos from the 1980s. "This norwegian bird is dead wrong", Mr. Dave Smith of Carter Road says when confronted with the alleged accusations. The 32-year is a regular at The Winning Post, which is believed to be the norwegian journalist`s source of information. "She must be taking the piss, if she had ever been in here she would have known the video jukebox also contains hits from the 1990s", Mr. Smith says.

Elsie - The voice of Whitmore Reans

2006-01-24T02:05:00.000Z

Mrs. Elsie Blount have today spoken of her concern over increasing problems with rubbish collection in Whitmore Reans.

"Our rubbish hasn`t been collected in over two weeks, what do the City Council expect us to do with it?", the 73-year old pensioner of Carter Road tells us over a cup of tea. "My husband Alain has phoned the City Council all week, and they keep saying they are going to sort it out. As if he hasn`t got enough on his mind!" (The 76-year old is involved in a conflict with Telewest, as reported by Whitmore Reans Gazette.) "I keep telling him we should move back to West Bromwich, that`s where I was born. That`s also where I met him, he was on holiday, I think it was in 1953. He gave me half-pints of cider and was really good at darts."

As Mr. Blount is unavailable at the moment, we are unable to report how the situation with the rubbish collection is coming along. Whitmore Reans Gazette might follow up this story if there is sufficient inererest among the public.

Roy Harper - A story of a concert

2006-01-24T01:39:00.000Z

Roy enters the stage, half an hour late. He greets the audience with a raised right hand and sits down on the chair made ready for him. He places his pint of stout by his left foot and picks up one of the four guitars placed on the rack, next to his chair. He doesn‘t look very comfortable, moving around in his chair. “I didn‘t realize he was so far away”, he says quietly into the microphone. Then he turns in his chair, crosses his feet and smiles helplessly at his supporting guitar player, at the other end of the stage, who is smiling back at him, friendly and with respect. “Why are you so far away? I‘m sorry you‘re so far away.”

“I like your shirt, Roy!”, a man shouts from the bar. Roy freezes for a second while tuning his guitar, then lowers his eyes, pretending to examine his grey buttoned shirt with long sleeves, while the crowd is laughing. Then he becomes mute, staring towards the bar, as if offended. “Stand up, sir!” Roy shouts, but with a childish smile in his face. “Wearing a suit, are you? Black and white, is it?” There is no answer. “Of course you are. You need to, I guess. Then again, that‘s probably why I‘m up here while you‘re down there. The voice was coming from the bar, wasn‘t it? Then at least you‘ll find yourself close to the door. Consider it.”

“Is there any children backstage?” We can‘t answer him, so we just listen. “I hear children‘s voices backstage”, Roy tells us. He turns, and shouts; “Are you having fun back there?” We can‘t hear any answer. “Of course you are”, he adds with a lower voice.

“Some time ago my love story with my long-time partner ended. This happens at some point in life, as I am sure all of you would know by now”. He pauses, smiling sadly at the crowd. “I immediately fell apart, simply crying it all out. I cried until I couldn‘t cry anymore. After a few days spent in a house in east London, the feeling of grief and loss finally came to an end.” He pauses, looking into the air above the crowd, moving nervously in his chair. The crowd is completely silent, but the silence is patient and sympathetic. “After the grief came the sheer shock. My nose started to bleed, and it wouldn‘t stop. Tissue was of no help, it just kept pouring out, and the shock increased with my loss of blood. I had a gig in west London that day, but I still felt I could do it, go through with it, life has to go on you know.” He smiles sadly at the crowd. “The gig was sold out, seven or eight hundred people were waiting in the orchestra for me to come out and play. And I was walking around backstage, blood everywhere, not knowing what to do with myself.” The crowd laughs, and Roy smiles sadly. “The guys tried everything, we tried every drug available, but nothing worked out. But I still felt I could do it. Then this guy came up to me with a balloon, he shoved it up my nose and started blowing. And my nose finally stopped bleeding.” Laughter spreads across the crowd. “So I came onto the stage and I went through with it. It hurt like hell for five or six hours, with her in the audience, this was 1992, she was still mixing the sound.” Roy becomes quiet, as if wanting us to reflect on what he just said. After a short while he smiles and says; “Yes, it was truly a cathartic experience.” “How do you spell that?”, a young man with dreadlocks shouts out, with a sarcastic and broken voice. The crowd laughs and Roy looks puzzled, as if the question brought him out of his private thoughts. “Oh, do I need a blackboard? C.A.T.H.A.R.T.I.C.”, he spells slowly. “As from Greek mythology. Effecting catharsis. My experience was cleansing. Through pain and suffering. I`m sure you know all about it.”

So, what do you want me to play? Five or six voices separate themselves from the crowd, shouting out their favourite songs. Roy shakes his head and smiles towards his supporting guitar player who also shakes his head smiling, he is much younger than Roy and probably doesn‘t even know the songs. Maybe even Roy don‘t know them anymore. “You need to look forward, always forward”, Roy says, and becomes quiet for a minute. “All right”, he says, and looks at his supporting guitar player, telling him that he‘s going to do this one by himself. The crowd is cheering. “Do you know why?”, he asks us. “It‘s because I wrote this song all alone, and on hard drugs. I don‘t even think that drug is obtainable anymore.” A young man shouts: “Good on you, Roy!”, and laughter again spreads across the audience. Roy smiles wisely in the direction the voice came from. “Did you know I quit smoking when I was 28? You really should try and confine yourself a bit, keep it ceremonial, that way you‘ll get the most out of it. I smoke occasionally. I used to have a ceremony every night, the problem is that it really effects your phone calls.” He makes a telephone gesture with his hand: “Hello God?” Laughter. Man shouting: “You‘re just making matters worse, Roy!” The crowd laughs, almost collegially. Roy smiles, not knowing what to say. “Have a spliff, Roy!” Again laughter. “I already had one”, Roy answers, smiling but clearly uncomfortable. “Have another, then!”, a kid in the back shouts. Roy is quiet for a few seconds, while the crowd is laughing. “You might be young and on a spree now, but you will eventually find these things don‘t work out quite as you think. Or don‘t think.” Laughter again spreads across the crowd, but not as if appreciating a joke. Then silence, now the crowd badly want him to play his song.

At the end of the song something happens with his face. He raises his hands in a dramatic psychedelic gesture, raising his eyebrows before closing the song with his hands and upper body. He looks at his feet while the crowd is applauding. “Something happened”, he says. “I broke a fingernail at the end of the song.” He sends his supporting guitar player a concerned glance. The guitar player nods and places his guitar at the rack. “What happens now is we take a break. I need to file down my fingernail. Please give me ten minutes.” He leaves the stage slowly.

Roy is quiet for a few seconds, he is thinking. “No, but really, I had a telephone call just now, during the break. You‘re never safe. Never. I have a strongly ambivalent view on this. “Try to shut your phone off, Roy!”, a young woman shouts. The crowd laughs and Roy smiles, he laughs along with the crowd. “Is that why you`re so lazy on your website, Roy?”, someone shouts, but Roy stops smiling. “You`re right. I don`t need a phone, but while on the road I‘m told to carry the thing around. But I agree, I should get rid of it. As I get older the need of being alone with my guitars and a few thoughts becomes stronger. That‘s what I‘m all about. That‘s why you‘re here today, isn`t it?”, he smiles sadly.

“It is really all about the writing. I have been writing songs for as long as I can remember. It is like if components are being thrown at me, at some point there is impossible not to write the song.” He pauses. “I guess that goes for most creative work. It is like if my songs become places I‘ve been in the end, they become unexplainable.” A man laughs vulgarly from a corner. Roy looks up, with a serious expression in his face. “No. That‘s not the place I‘m talking about.”

“Are you all right there?” Roy looks at his supporting guitar player, addressing his guitar. “It isn‘t sharp, it‘s slightly off. “The machine says it‘s all right”, the guitar player answers, embarrassed and possibly slightly insulted. “Not in open E it isn‘t. The machine is wrong”, Roy smiles.

“I have always been a foreigner, so I know how the foreigner feels. This is never going to change. It is what it is. When I look at the wars we‘ve participated in over the last few years, the feeling only grows stronger, and on another level.” “So I gather you don‘t care too much about Tony Blair, then?”, a man shouts, laughter in his voice. Roy smiles childishly in the direction of the voice for a few seconds, then he starts making pet sounds. He gestures with his hands and pretends to be a cat. It takes the crowd too long to start laughing.

Roy is standing alone on stage, we are applauding like mad. He is smiling and nodding modestly, trying to get a word in. Eventually the applause fades. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. “Will you come back, Roy?”, someone is shouting. Roy smiles introverted, and nods. “Yes, I guess I will return. Thank you for listening. I want you all to know I consider you my friends. Thank you.”

Telewest struggle in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-24T00:48:00.000Z

Telewest customers in Whitmore Reans, Wolverhampton, are having problems with their television and internet services.

Mr. Alain Blount, a 76-year old pensioner of Carter Road, explains he’s been having problems with his satellite-TV set for over three months. “The receiver keeps resetting, I need to turn it off and on again, it`s frustrating when you`re watching a program”, Mr. Blount says. He phoned Telewest and reported the problem, and eventually an engineer was sent to his house. “The engineer looked at both my television and my receiver and told me the problem was due to a technical problem with a mast in Gatis Street", Mr. Blount says. He was told the mast is receiving more satellite signals than it is designed for, and that this was the reason for the problems he is experiencing. Mr. Blount says the engineer told him he was going to have a look at the mast the very same day. Today, nearly three months on, Mr. Blount is still experiencing the same problems. “It is frustrating”, he says. “When I call their telephone support they keep telling me to reset my television receiver, it‘s frustrating, they just won`t listen to an old man". Mr. Blount says several of his neighbors are having the same problems with Telewest, and that he doesn‘t know what it will take to make them listen.

Telewest doesn‘t want to comment, but their telephone support in Birmingham confirms that there has been a number of complaints from customers in Whitmore Reans lately, however they cannot say when the problems will be solved.

Where is Whitmore Reans?

2006-01-23T21:34:00.000Z

The editor has received numerous e-mails from the public, all adressing the same issue. It seems there is public interest in the geographical location of Whitmore Reans. Now: The beatutiful Whitmore Reans is situated directly underneath the UFO.

"Whitmore Reans is an inner city area of Wolverhampton, West Midlands, England. It is situated to the north-west of the city centre, in the city council's Park and St Peter's wards.

It is socially disadvantaged, and has a relatively high population of university students and ethnic minorities. The Molineux stadium of Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club is nearby, as is the picturesque West Park."

This should help our struggling tourist industry!

Wreckless Eric in Whitmore Reans

2006-01-23T05:56:00.000Z

Strangly, none of my local newspapers as well as neither MOJO or NME found this concert review to be of public interest. However, Whitmore Reans Gazette finds it imperative to add it to the public sphere in its entirety:

Wreckless Eric
The Newhampton, Wolverhampton
Friday 9^th December 2005

The legendary Punk / New Wave artist Wreckless Eric played at The Newhampton, Wolverhampton, Friday 9^th December 2005

Eric Goulden, as his real name is, shared stage and record label with Nick Lowe, Ian Dury and Elvis Costello in the late 70s, but went into obscurity by spending the better part of the 80s hitting the bottle. Sober now, he is on the road with new songs. Having spent last month touring with The Damned, he told us he enjoyed the intimate atmosphere at The Newhampton, far away from security guards and metal barricades. Playing solo, only him and his electric guitar, he delivered a string of honest, intelligent and moving songs. We got an energetic version of his massive hit from 1977, “The Whole Wide World”, as well as a beautiful acoustical version of “The Final Taxi.” But the really stunning songs were the new ones. Despite his songs being covered worldwide, Wreckless Eric is still an underestimated songwriter. On the night, he showed us his talent throughout the two-hour long set. “I keep looking back, but I can‘t see a thing,” he sang in one about his hazy past. “It‘s like waking up and trying to remember a dream”. He also read from his recent autobiography, “A Dysfunctional Success”, which sounds a very good read. His latest album is called “Bungalow Hi” (2004). Next stop for the Wreckless Eric faithful is at The 100 Club, London, 23^rd December.

Whitmore Reans Gazette - now in the public sphere!

2006-01-23T02:39:00.000Z

As you can see; this blog is currently in english. Writing in norwegian actually becomes very hard when limited to 26 letters. (...)

This is still a work in process!