keresaspa: (Homer rage)
You'll forgive me if I pass on the end of year survey thing this time out as, for more reasons than I care to remember, I'll have little desire to recall 2016 in the future. But nonetheless I'll draw a veil on this most egregious of twelvemonths in my own time-honoured fashion:

Top 100 Artists of the Year )
keresaspa: (Nina looking a tad pertubed)
Nothing quite like this time of year to bring the vermin out is there, be it the drunken scum littering the streets from the early afternoon or the filthy politicians rewarding their cronies with their plastic "honours". Pah, they can stuff this particular arbitrary date in the calendar where the sun doesn't shine as far as I'm concerned. But I've established my own tradition for this specific date and I must keep it going regardless so:

Keresaspa's top 100 artists of the year )
keresaspa: (Foster and Allen)
Apparently they've only gone and made Esther Rantzen a Dame. So is that for service to cover-ups, services to rank hypocrisy or services to the cosmetic dentistry sector? God, I know those awards are a load of pap but are they seriously reduced to giving damehoods to the likes of Rancid these days? Like she's not bloody insufferable enough as it is.

Still, who cares, it's the final day of the year and so, to the interest of nobody whatsoever, I must do this.

Top 100 artists listened to this year )
keresaspa: (Stan Ogden)
Bloody rain! Too much rain leads to waterlogged pitches which in turn leads to the football card being wiped out and in turns leads to me kicking my heels trying to fill up a boring Saturday. How the hell did I used to survive this day before I went back to the football? Strictly speaking I might have went anyway as there is one game on due to Seaview having a plastic pitch but Crusaders-Linfield was ruled out because (a) it's too loyalist, (b) I hate both teams and (c) it might well have been all-ticket anyway.

Still, if nothing else it gives me time to clear up two of my annual traditions in one go so read on or hit the road, whichever suits you.

Top 10 albums of the year )

2012 thing )
keresaspa: (Fidel Castro)
Further to yesterday's bit of auld rabbit about Patsy Hewitt, we now have Clare Short doing an Enoch Powell and telling her supporters (assuming she has any) not to vote for her party and sending the New Labour thought police into a blue funk. Short has always been something of an enigma to me. Certainly of a higher standard than the other two panjandrums this place produced in Tony Banks and Brian Mawhinney she had a tendency to get my goat and provoke 'you go, girl' moments in more or less equal measures. Calling that old cryptofascist, friend of John Tyndall, arms dealing bastard Alan Clark a drunk certainly won her brownie points, as did blowing the whistle on the secret services bugging the UN. Still, her devotion to Kinnock and his booting out of the Trots certainly done her no favours, whilst all the Iraq war bleating amounted to nothing when she didn't resign until it was well up and running. Using the excuse that she had guarantees about heading up reconstruction cuts no ice. If Randy Robin Cook could get a conscience over it Clare Short could have as well. Still, if and when she does go it will be another nail in the coffin of Parliament as anything other than a rubber-stamp on the leader's policies. For her faults, she was usually her own woman and will no doubt be replaced by some faceless no-mark spouting New labour-by-numbers toss.

Meanwhile let us all hope that Marianne Faithfull makes a speedy recovery and is around for a long time yet spreading her unique brand of mayhem. The world would be a less beautiful place without the old headcase.

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