M.I.A. – Paper Planes

Sampling The Clash’s “Straight From Hell”, M.I.A. continues where The Clash left off with themes of racism and problems of discrimination that immigrants face. Paper Planes lays out a saccharin diatribe at the doorstep of the USA, with references to the fact that the USA wouldn’t allow her in to the country to work with Timbaland, due to her alleged connections with a Sri Lankan militant group. The single has already had several different versions and remixes released this year, but this is the definitive commercial radio airplay version. The chorus features the sounds of gunshots and the “Kerching!” of cash registers, backed up by a choir of Brixton school kids chanting that they want to “take your money”, ironically taking a pop at the authorities. The song basically plays upon the paranoia created by the USA and the UK in which all citizens should treat every immigrant with suspicion and contempt. Regardless of her past, the meaning of the lyrics and any alleged connections she has to any terrorist/militant groups, the song has now become a pastiche of what was originally intended. Punk in spirit, Pink in delivery.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Sia – Soon We’ll Be Found

There was a time when a female with a lethargic vocal delivery was quite sexy, but in these post-Winehouse days, it just tends to stop being sexy and start sounding as if the singer is pissed, or out of their heads on scag. Sia’s vocal starts off as lethargic, but then moves on to a mighty slur, like an octogenarian sitting by himself, mortal drunk, musing about his days of sex and hedonism through the haze of ten pints of Scotch. The Sex And The City generation of females may well take time out from buying shoes and handbags to weep salty puddles to this song, as it blares out from their status symbol stereos and they look back upon the greatest love that they lost. It’s that type of song, you know? The type that closes a romantic comedy starring the latest teenage star destined to be photographed knickerless whilst leaving a Limo. The type of song that 18-19 year old girls have on their MySpace profile. The type who have the obligatory profile picture of the pouting mirror shot, of one hand on the side, and the other hand desperately clutching the mobile phone which encapsulates the desperation of the reflection. On further inspection she’ll have wrote things on her profile like “life’s a journey, not a destination” and her friends will have posted messages saying “dnt wory bout him, he a dick, ya can do beta than him” and “u deserv beta babie girl” as she moves off from the first of many points in her life when her heart will be broken. It’s one of them, it may well have a lot of truth, honesty and passion, but when you get to such a point in your life when all you have left is bitterness and cynicism, it tends not to cut the mustard. Instead, it leaves you agitated and exasperated. By now we’ve all had our fair share of female fronted piano ballads giving way to strings, big emotional key changes and climaxes, the formula is a little tired now and love songs just aren’t my bag.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

The Breeders – Bang On

Recently Weezer produced one of my favourite drum sounds of the year, but now The Breeders, with Steve Albini at the controls rotating the knobs, have managed to surpass it.

Bang On is a lo-fi sugar rush with a rhythm section made from a thumping drum, and a bass guitar seemingly being pounded through a tired out 80s speaker which is just about to fall to bits. This unassuming affair by our favourite ever changing line up is a discreet two minute skeleton of a song, stripped right down to the bare bones, sending out the rallying cry of a pre-pubescent apathetic voice with “I love no-one and no-one loves me”. It’s a bit like a juvenile My Sharona, except with only an occasional guitar twang, and a bit of guitar twiddling that sounds like a swarm of bees coming to capture you for their queen. Great work from Kim and co.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Biffy Clyro – Mountains

Metaphorical nonsense is the order of the day in this one-off single from Biffy Clyro. The song has been receiving a large amount of airplay recently as it seems that they’re now experiencing the full power and marketing skills of a major label, taking their music to the masses. As would be expected from a band that has been working with a major record label, the band now have an expensively produced sound to their new single, they’ve even incorporated a piano throughout the song. Without using the phrases “selling out”, or “commercial shite”, it’s probably quite reasonable to say that they've totally lost their edge and have started to sound like Feeder. Although they get props for the production, for the melody and for the hooks, their point score goes into negative figures with some truly dire lyrics. As mentioned above, metaphor overload is on the menu. Simon Neil is the mountains and the sea, he starts off by taking “a bite out of a mountain range, thought my teeth would break the mountains down”, and he also writes a note to the jungle (?!?), with the jungles response being, “it wrote me back that I was never crowned king of the jungle, so there’s and end to my horizon”. Seriously, is there any need for such ghastly lyrics? And so it continues, with more lyrical cliché with, “Nothing lasts forever, except you and me. You are my mountains, you are my sea”. I’ve never been so offended by something like this in such a long time. As Biffy Clyro undoubtedly gain hoards of new fans from drab office environments tuning into commercial radio up and down the country, I can’t help but cringe when I see Margaret the 43 year old admin dullard singing along to “I am a mountain, I am the sea”. Biffy Clyro could well be the next Stereophonics, and that is certainly no good thing.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

The Music – The Spike

The Music’s second single from their Strength In Numbers album continues along the same sort of “also ran” trajectory that The Music have adopted since their first album, which seems like a lifetime ago. The Spike is a decent enough song, even if it does trudge through the same godforsaken territory of Kasabian through the verses, only to be uplifted with a “let’s get off our tits” chorus in the usual adolescent and juvenile groove you’d expect from The Music. But that’s the whole point; it’s six years since they released their baggy dance rocking self titled debut, and they haven’t really come much further since then. If adding a little bit of electronica into the mix is a gauge of maturity, then fair play, but in truth they haven’t seemed to progress any further than exactly what you’d expect from The Music. As lead singer Harvey recounts the dark days off his past drug use you’d think he’d be better off just telling it all to his sponsor, the notion of rockstar heroes writing anthems about the pro’s and con’s of drug abuse seem a little blasé to me nowadays. Although for the most part this single is as predictable and conventional as a film about basketball where the protagonists need to score with one second left on the clock, it’s for its sins still bearable. There’s a lot worse out there, but it’s hardly neither groundbreaking nor inspiring.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Eugene McGuinness - Eugene McGuinness

I was praying that this album wouldn’t be another middle of the road James Morrison type, but Mr McGuinness couldn’t be any further removed from the dull tones of Blunt, Morrison and those of that ilk. This self titled album from the Liverpool youngster marks new territory for the singer songwriter genre, with experimental arrangements akin to the great Brian Wilson and dozens of different ideas flying off the walls in each song. Following on from last year’s Early Learning Of Eugene McGuinness EP, McGuinness takes giant strides into cementing his place amongst great new British talent.

The album represents a fantastic storytelling Vaudevillian journey through modern day streets and fun fairs, with creepy organs from ghost trains to blistering rockabilly, skiffle and rampant folk. McGuinness is a bit like Patrick Wolf with a personality transplant and with lyrical wit increased by ten. His social banter forms the basis of the album with Crown The Crown’s “from Romford to Iraq, and I can spot a hell of a lot of stars on McDonalds caps” and even moments of self deprecation with “I’m a fucked up bastard and a sub zero psycho” in the violin led Wendy Wonders.

As far as debut albums go, this is by far one of the best I’ve heard in many years and shows much promise for the future of music in this country.

5/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Okkervil River - The Stand Ins

The Stand Ins follows on from last years The Stage Names as a continuation of the themes of fame, fortune and celebrity. The artwork from this latest album actually joins up with the artwork of The Stage Names to show one larger piece of art. Where The Stage Names concentrated on the stars of the shows, The Stand Ins spares a thought for the also-rans and those who fell by the wayside with a certain amount of pathos, including the suicide of a porn star (Starry Stairs) and the tragedy of a glam rock star dying of AIDS (Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed On The Roof Of The Chelsea Hotel, 1979).

Singer Songwriter focuses on the life of a person whose whole family is involved in show business and shows the fallacies and fraudulent side of fame, whilst the grim and lonely On Tour With Zykos wallows in a brooding loss of hope. Pop Lie is a more upbeat song, with a tongue-in-cheek look at musicians and the pretence of songwriters thinking that they can change the world with their songs.

Throughout, Will Sheff and his Okkervil band mates, produce a dark and bitter perspective on the other side of stardom, for those who tried to make it and failed and for those who had it all and lost it. This is a superb album which will garner even larger crowds for this band.

4.5/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Our Broken Garden - When Your Blackening Shows

Our Broken Garden is Anna Broendsted, sometime member of Efterklang, who follows up her celebrated Sailor EP with this album released through Bella Union. It’s an album full of sweeping, organic arrangements, recalling Cat Power from years back and a minimalism often associated with Scandinavian folk.

Broendsted’s voice and composition evokes a sense of isolationism and vulnerability which really does stir you up, but the whole album can be a little bit too much for one listen. I could happily listen on a Sunday morning with a pounding head, but putting the album on when you’re having a house party on a Friday night would be certain to see your guests either going on a serious downer or heading for the door.

The subdued sound that has been created on this album is perfect if you like your music to have some real sincerity about it. Broenstead’s vocal complements the subtleties of the music to deliver well-rounded and polished songs. Maybe spread across a couple of EPs, this would have been complete perfection, but a full album can become quite overbearing towards the end, leaving you with a tremendous amount of doom and self doubt in your soul, but maybe that’s what Broendsted is aiming for. The fragile delivery and foreboding feeling that tears are coming soon runs throughout this album. All in all an emotive piece that takes you very close to the edge.

4/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

James Yorkston - When The Haar Rolls In

A fourth studio album from James Yorkston sees him enlist his usual band of Athletes, as well as some folk legends in Norma Waterson, Mike Waterson, Marry Gilhooly and Olly Knight, to produce a folk album of epic proportions.

Strumming away on his guitar, I can almost smell the salty air wafting across my fish and chips and feel the coldness of my rock pool soaked socks. As with any traditional/folk style record, the music is as wholesome and honourable as a North East fishing community. The themes of the record echo throughout with a sense of belonging, being young and homely and not having a care in the world – this sort of freedom transfers to the music, with the songs being honest and ethereal, and a song writing style that doesn’t seem to be bound by any particular rules or criteria.

With every incidental violin, mandolin and concertina, I’m transported to the murky seaside town where the fog (or ‘Haar’) rolls in from the sea. This is atmospheric and creative folk that places this Yorkston album above any of his previous recordings, showing that he has evolved as something more than just your bog-standard folk singer into a great British songwriter.

4/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Jaguar Love - Take Me To The Sea

Jaguar Love are made up from ex-members of Blood Brothers and Pretty Girls Make Graves, and they’ve produced an album that comes at you from all angles in what is a painful battering. It’s an awful album of grating sounds, probably about as awful as how I’ll feel when it’s my funeral and I’m watching all the frauds and professional mourners turn up to eat the pork pie halves, whilst my loved ones are left with the breadsticks. At times the vocals sound like Marc Bolan after he’s binged on blue Smarties and Ribena, and they seem unable to pin down their sound, instead doing a bit of glam/art punk/avant-garde/bad metal and not really doing any of them well. The lack of melody is only reinforced with the nails down blackboard vocals which make most of the songs on the album unbearable after a minute or so. Lead singer Johnny Whitney manages to somehow encapsulate the worst qualities of the sounds of a whining child, a yappy dog and breaking glass to form some sort of vocal scalpel that jabs at your ear repeatedly until you have to switch off. There’s just far too much going on for me and none of it is very enjoyable, from the mid-90’s alternative sound of Highways of Gold, to the Iron Maiden-esque intro of Vagabond Ballroom and the 80’s pop vibe of My Organ Sounds Like..., Jaguar Love seem to be very confused about what they are meant to sound like. It’s not good.

0.5/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Noah And The Whale - Peaceful, The World Lays Me Down

When people mention ‘twee’, I usually frown, shudder, and think of herbal tea drinking twats, in garish cardigans and wellingtons knitting scarves and mittens. But Noah And The Whale have given me a whole new perspective on this. The album isn't so much ‘twee’ in the sense that they're a bunch of scarf knitting twats, but more in the sense that at times there's a lot of happiness, pleasantness and buoyancy in the tunes, but the difference is that below it all is a dark anti-folk undercurrent, with many of the unhappier songs dealing with death and unrequited love. Basically, it's not all bunnies and fucking toffee apples, it's more like a twee Arcade Fire, with the clever lyric and intelligent punnery of Bright Eyes. I love songwriters who can not only write the most basic and catchiest of choruses, but also a writer who can spend forever ripping up scraps of A4 until they have the perfect one liners for their stanza's. And that's what's going on here. The lyrics have so much meaning, they've clearly had so much thought go into them, with 5 Years Time being the type of earnest love song in the spirit of Peter, Bjorn And John’s Young Folk, which would be a massive summer hit in an alternate universe. Some of the initial twee-ness may put you off, but they write and perform desperately profound indie-pop which can’t help but make you smile and marvel at the whimsical wordplay.

4.5/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

The Hold Steady – Stay Positive

Here we have a new album of anthemic rock from American riff-meisters, The Hold Steady, which is more than pleasant and a change in direction from the previous efforts. I’ll get the comparisons out of the way immediately, it’s like Bob Mould fronting the E Street Band, songwriting akin to Springsteen, and the strangest ones I’ve picked up are the commercial sing-along pop and dual vocals of Rancid, and a certain feeling of 90s alternative rock a bit like Soul Asylum’s Grave Dancers Union. It’s no real surprise that you’ll find comparisons with Husker Du and Soul Asylum when you look at The Hold Steady’s Minneapolis connections, you could even compare the Purple Rain-esque guitar solo in Joke About Jamaica to Minneapolis’ most famous son, Prince.

The album only has two weak songs for me, those being One For The Cutters and Navy Sheets, everything else is great. Overblown pantomime piano and gruff enunciation are at the forefront as always, with social commentary on opening track, Constructive Summer and religious imagery with Both Crosses, whilst the album’s title track is raw out-and-out power-punk. As well as the usual influences scattered around, one of my favourite bits is the Elvis Costello style organ that crops up here and there.

This is an album full of potential summer hymns and anthems to harmonise along to in festivals all over the country. There are enough hooks and big choruses to get you jumping around and if you can’t remember the lyrics, there’s plenty of “woah-oh-ohs” for you to chant as well.

4/5


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Fight Like Apes – Lend Me Your Face

Lend Me Your Face is the first UK single from the new Fight Like Apes album. What struck me immediately about this one minute and fifty three seconds ditty is that the song title, Lend Me Your Face, is repeated twenty five times. That wouldn’t usually bother me, but when it gets to the point that it feels as if somebody is standing trying to drill a giant hole into the side of my head whilst shouting “Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face!”, then it does start to get irritating. I’m sitting writing this with an appalling hangover, which may account for the irritability factor here, but in all seriousness I could be in the most tranquil, placid and healthy of spirits and this, “Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face!” over and over again would still drive me to a horrifically heinous crime. I can imagine the phrase taking over my life, and when I’m standing accused in the dock I’m sure I’ll be able to get an insanity plea as I stand in my paper suit screaming, “Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face!”, over and over again at the judge and jury.

This is basically shouty obnoxious pop, in the vein of a sleazier unpolished Ting Tings. With synth overload and aggressive drumming, the Dublin band do have the basis of a good tune, but that is completely negated by the overwhelming urge to kill myself which is brought on by the monotony of “Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face! Lend Me Your Face!”. The sneering, vicious feminist lyrics aren’t my bag and probably have more in common with Valerie Singleton than Valerie Solanas. All in all a decent tune ruined by pointless repetition and annoying un-catchy vocals.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

White Denim – All You Really Have To Do

White Denim are the type of band that should have been strutting around the stage of Woodstock in 1969. Amongst the showers of bands these days that try to purvey their own brand of revivalist psychedelia and get full of acid, White Denim go straight for the throat with a harder approach to the tired old format of the American singer drawling through their fucked out of their head lyrics with a faint British accent. All You Really Have To Do parades around with a vocal halfway between Robert Plant and Jimi Hendrix, with a dirty filthy garage guitar and a sexual bass line. The song is a vicious attack of pop goodness, with the sound no doubt being influenced by the heavier of the blues and prog bands from the 60’s, think Jagger or Plant in their prime fronting Blue Cheer, or Hendrix playing with Captain Beefheart. In the space of two and a bit minutes, this song will tear your heart out and bash it around the town with the back of a guitar. A fantastic single, bursting with aggression, and dying to take you on a dark drug induced journey where burning tie-dye T-shirts covered in blood light the way.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Edwyn Collins – Home Again

This single, the title track from last year’s well received album, almost may never have made it out as a single – and that would’ve been a massive crime. When I think of Edwyn Collins and his near death experience, I can’t help feeling all sentimental for him and it gives you a little sense of perspective whereby you realise you should really be treasuring such people, rather than just being passé about somebody who wrote the soundtrack to many of your parties, break ups and break downs.

In the same vein as Richard Hawley, Mr Collins shows what an amazing wealth of singer songwriter talent we have in this country. Who needs all of the fashion bands in loud luminous leggings and Flock of Seagulls haircuts, when you’ve got songwriters like this producing some of the most sincere and heartfelt songs this side of the 60’s.

The single tells the tale of discovering and rediscovering the music of his youth and reflecting on where he grew up, something which will resonate with anyone who ever hears a song from their childhood and gets transported all the way back to feeling like a kid all over again. When you think about what he’s been through over the past few years, the song seems even more poignant and heart-rending, and even if he’s not looking for your sympathy, it's impossible to listen to this single without a sense of compassion and relief that one of the greatest British songwriters of the past 30 years is still with us.

Home Again will make you swoon, maybe cry, and maybe even make you want to get in touch with some of the people you take for granted or that you’ve never heard from in ages, fantastic stuff.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

Electricity In Our Homes – We Thought It Was But It Wasn’t

This is about as chaotic and disjointed as anything else that is out there at the moment. Just over a minute and a half of dirty, filthy art-rock. In the space of that just over a minute and a half, you’ll be subjected to the sneering and vocal aggression of an amalgamation of Johnny Rotten and Mark E. Smith, a frenzied assault of anarchic guitar lines like Zappa fronting Melt Banana, and a rhythm section that could’ve been taken from one of Ian Dury and the Blockheads’ lost singles, with the machine gun drums and humpy thumpy bass determined to march down your street, kick your door in and drag you dancing down your path in an impulsive paroxysm of glee.

The band have a distinctively 80s sound about them, which is no bad thing. I‘d much rather be sitting like a kid in my Lord Anthony anorak with a bag of glue listening to this band of rag-tag rogues in some graffiti covered squat, than face the reality of getting older and older.

Go and lose yourself in this single and hear a band expressing all of their insecurities and not giving a shit about it.


NARC. is currently available in all good record shops, pubs, practice rooms etc. etc. View more information on NARC. magazine, including outlets, at their MySpace, and at their website.

My Disappearance

I got bored stiff of having to watch the troglodytes every single day with a pen and pad of paper, taking notes on the bullshit and backstabbing, so I stopped doing the Big Brother blog.

I'm in the middle of trying to write a book now, although in all honesty, I'm actually right at the beginning. For the time being, I'm going to update this place with all of the stuff I've been reviewing the past few weeks.

Cunning Stunt

The entrance of Stuart has had the desired effect on the house, as predicted earlier. Already, Dale has been getting paranoid about having to go up against him for Jennifer's affection, and has been clinging on to his testicles as hard as possible and crying about how much he loves her - sad bastard. Meanwhile, Stuart (having been warned by Sylvia) has picked up on Mohamed and Rex's paranoia about him, and has the full intention of winding them up a bit.

It's became clear within the first 24 hours of his entrance, that Sylvia and Dennis do actually know the new weird eye cunt. Sylvia was caught talking to Jennifer saying "I'm in trouble" and saying she'll not be able to help herself. It's already clear that Stuart, Sylvia and Dennis know each other from the selection process, but they aren't allowed to discuss that. But, what I found out last night, is that they don't just go through the auditions, they also put groups of people in test houses together, film them and see how they react. It's quite clear by Sylvia's bed hopping that she's been with Stuart before. I've got a good feeling that he's fucked her already and now her boyfriend's going to find out. Her bed behaviour was a little too blatant and familiar, but he didn't seem to want to know, as if he's already emptied his sack in her and doesn't want any seconds.

Keep an eye on this one, as they'll definitely have a bit more action when the drink starts flowing. Clearly they have previous history.

Enter Stuart

A new housemate entered the house last night and replaced the cunt. He's called Stuart, he's an arrogant model and father of a small girl. He's everything that Dale has promised to be, but failed to be.

There's no two ways about it, this cat is going to be doing some humping. As soon as he walked in the door, Dale the Alpha male started cocking his leg and pissing all over the furniture to mark his territory as the new predator, who permanently looks like he's wearing mascara the weird eye cunt, surveyed the room stealthily, looking for flange and flesh.

Jennifer and Sylvia's eyes lit up like Belisha beacons and suddenly became moist. Jennifer realising that Dale is too much of a girls blouse and she wants a real man to treat her like shit, use her and violate her, whilst Sylvia soon forgot all about her "I've got a boyfriend, innit" bullshit and quickly gave Stuart a tour of the room, complete with nervous dancing and smiling.

Dennis thought his luck may well be in, thinking he was going to get some ass action, patrolling around Stuart like a vulture, getting ready to pick at his bones and go in for the kill. But regrettably for Dennis, Stuart likes to be asked if he is gay but doesn't love the cock.

It's fair to say that love rat Stuart has caused a bit of a stir. No two ways about it, the male side of the house will have a few problems with him coming in and getting all of the female attention. Whilst the women will compete for his attention. Clearly Jennifer has to decide on the choice of pissing around with Dale or getting some Stuart action, but in all fairness I think she's had her fun with Dale now, in the same way that a cat plays around with a dead bird. That's what you are, Dale. You're a dead fucking bird. You're a tiny little decapitated sparrow with your chest removed. Dale's behaviour will now get even more pathetic now as he tries to claim Jennifer for his own, metaphorically pulling at her pigtails, and making himself even more of a sad and pathetic loser.

It'll be interesting to see if there's any conflict between Sylvia and Jennifer now, as they both blatantly want cock. However, Sylvia has a boyfriend, which she was so adamant to point out when avoiding Mohamed the shoe bomber's advances. And Jennifer is already sort of with Dale, as far as Sylvia can see. So will they fight over him, or will they just have a threesome?

Either way, Stuart is just the type of cad that the house needs to stir things up. I hate him already, which is brilliant. Give it a week and he'll have Sylvia or Jennifer bent over the ashtray with their knickers pulled to the side, whilst Dennis pulls himself off in the jail, just wait and see.

Pop a Cap In Yo' White Ass

Below is a transcript from the conversation that cunt had with Darnell, which resulted in her removal from the Big Brother house:

" Darnell: Sylvia is keeping it real, said if it had been me, I'd have thrown water over somebody.

Alex: I'm not throwing water at anyone. It's bigger than that. This is three months, do you know what I mean? Three months in a house.

Everyone's got to come outside the house. Personal offence is never forgotten, do you know what I mean? We're just inside the house.

I've got a very, very, very, very, very strong team outside the house, strong, so solid, strong. I look forward to whatever the result.

If I get out first, I get out, make the plans. Everyone's got to come out after that. Every single one of you come out afterwards, remember I told you. Like I say, my team is strong, so strong.

Alex: I just can't wait to see my mans [sic] and them and see what their plans are, who they got...I'm not talking about those mans, I'm talking about my gangster friends.

Darnell: Collabos.

Alex: They got some instructions to follow out.

Darnell: That's what I mean...I've never seen anything like this, the people in here aren't real. It's like that movie shit, like movie people in here.

Alex: If you go, you get to make all the plans that you wanna make. When you're in here you can't do certain things. In my life I'm used to doing certain things.

You know people piss me off and I do something, like. I can't actually do that while I'm here. But like I say, I get to go out, see everyone's friends, I get to see their family. I get to do the shit that I wanna do. Pow, pow, pow." "

Taken from http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7462935.stm

Threatening to get people shot because they voted her out is quality like. What a horrible delusional cunt. How very "Muslim" of you. After giving Mohamed a world of shit for dressing as a woman for his birthday, it still amazes me how she considers herself to be a good Muslim. Drinking, smoking, swearing, bullying, violent threats, spitting a kid out when you're 15, I'm sure these are all admirable qualities and you're serving your Muslim community so very well. You horrible fucking trench.