Category Archives: Hollywood

Planet Bluto

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Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Quite clearly you do not want to hear what’s it been like down the writing well this week. How one kind of goes slightly mental down there. In my defence, I am spending a lot of time with myself. In my head. Alone. Me and Irene. Cackling away. My gibber can be hard to handle at times. Imagine when it’s all the time? Dose.

Also, I am quite sure you do not want to hear about a few slick DJigs this week. Pool parties. Rooftops. Savage spots. Fun all round. Giddy up that green honey. Here is a tremendous photo encapsulating how tough DJigging can be at times… Continue Reading »

Rise Of The Ape!

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Smalltown Boy – Bronski Beat

Interesting news. All aboot the rise of a certain ape. Betsy. Randumb has been climbing the Amazon top rated Humour charts like there’s no tomorrow! Chart topping. Show stopping! Notified that it was in the top 40. 30-something. Hmm. Interesting. Few places above Tina Fey’s book. Sure she’s gutted. Checked the next day. Into the top 20. Mighty. Climbing. Giddied up over Jimmy Fallon’s book! Again. I’m sure he’s freaked. Let’s look again on Friday… Lucky #13!

Like all apes, I was now checking every chance I got. Saturday night… Continue Reading »

Carmafunkingidiot

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Big Bad Wolf – Duck Sauce

Carmaggedon: Some spoof. Never seen the roads so quiet. Hollywood hype! Waste of a shotgun. End of the world will have to wait.

Me: Some idiot. Have you ever tried to take shortcuts, even though you’ve never been in the place before? Some clown. Driving back from a gig on Saturday. Never there before. But I know where I’m going. Let’s take this left here. Down this lane. Now if I just swing around on this 270˚ angle. Go up this hill. Along this back road. And I should be home… Why am I on the Pacific Coast Highway?Heading for San Francisco? Some funking idiot. Berating myself in the car: Why are you trying to take shortcuts?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!!! Only took me thirty five minutes to get back to the original road I was on. Some. Ape. Dope.

DJigs: Corporate gigs are the way to go. Forget bars or clubs. One night. About two hours of work. Rent. Sorted. Giddy up! No wonder singers and the likes do those weird gigs in Saudia Arabia or on a Russian billionaire’s yacht. Money talks. Let’s not mention how irregular they can be. Shhh. Nice views too. Rooftop on… Continue Reading »

Free. Megan Fox. Music.

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The Night Out – Martin Solveig

Apparently. If you have Megan Fox in a headline, people will automatically click on it. Did it work? Nice insider trick for any copy writer out there! Speaking of inside information: You’d be surprised at how many people book me for DJ sets without ever hearing a mix I’ve done. No clue if I’m good or not. Amazing. Take Friday. Deep down the writing well. Late afternoon. Email: Hello fine sir. Got your contact details from another DJ. Want to play at this venue tonight? Emmm. New venue. In fact, probably Hollywood’s new hot spot. SBE group’s latest venture. (If you’ve ever watched The Hills, all those clubs are SBE.) Anyway. Decide. In. Or. Nay? Money wasn’t what one might expect. But. Foot in the door and all that. Cool. Dance on. I’m in. And just like that, you’re DJing at another Hollywood hot spot. Mighty. Ish… Continue Reading »

Amerricka! Funk Yeah!

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I Want To Break Free – Mariachillout

Seeing as the rest of America is celebrating its birthday and its right to dance, I feel now is the perfect time to do a quick expose. Show the people of Ireland (et al) the truth! What it’s really like to live in LA. Won’t lie, pre-tty gruesome. Remember Schindler’s List? Kind of like that. Exactly. Ish. Maybe. Not at all…

So at times I’m required to work under absolutely dreadful conditions. Outside. Sweltering. Loud. Noisy. Crowded. Eye sores. Everywhere. Just. Tut. Terrible.

Apologies. Should’ve given ye a warning. My bad. As you can see, that was tough. To make matters even worse, some days we’re required to do this after work… Continue Reading »

Going Robe…

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We Are The Champions – Mariachillout

Quiet old week. On the blogaruu at least. In the surreal world, busy as usual. Vital stuff too. Such as: My ability to somehow provoke strangers into instant dislike. Going strong. Other night in the gym. Quiet enough. Only two others in there. Finishing up. About to leave. iPod on. Randomer says something to me. Pardon? ‘Are you finished with them?’ Yeah, all yours buddy. ‘Put your weights back.’ Which now? ‘Your weights. You left them next to the machine.’ Not my weights. ‘I said put them back!’ (Perhaps now is a good time to mention this guy appeared to be a gimp from the minute he walked in to the gym. Small. Angry. Balding. Purpley red head. Veins trying to jump out of his neck. Wrist bands. Ankle bands. Swinging arms. Flexing into the mirror. Hitting his head before doing any exercise. Cherry on top. Wearing a blue-tooth ear piece. In the gym. On the phone. Shouting out a conversation. While working out. Whole time he was there. Also appeared he was some sort of a spoof agent. Complete. Utter. Gimp. Continue Reading »