"I'll give you a mouse for your column" says Rick. It seemed a fair offer, I needed a mouse and he wanted my column. Bear in mind that we're obviously talking about a computer mouse here, not a sickening trade in live animals for punk rock tirades you understand. So I agreed, and in order to get my mouse, I'm sat here whoring myself to the great punk rock god in the sky, begging for divine inspiration and the solemn right to Have A Topic. He hasn't blessed me yet, but wait for it...

So I guess this is the blunt end of freelance journalism huh? Other journalists get cash in hand, some even get free meals in posh cafes or weekends in seedy resorts, but no, I get a loan of a mouse for 10 minutes. See I need the mouse cuz mine is fucked, at least I think it is, that's why I want to borrow Rick's - to find out if it's the mouse or computer. Having a computer without a mouse is like playing football without legs - difficult, annoying and fucking stupid. I've got to control the cursor from the arrow keys on the keyboard and my aim keeps going all crap, so when I'm on the Internet trying to click on a link to some punk site I invariably end up clicking a link to some fucking page full of vacuum cleaners or something. So that's the story behind the 'column for mouse' thing. And in keeping with Rick's DIY-man-about-the-house thing he's had going in the last couple of Happy House's, he's told me I can drop around any time tomorrow cuz he's tiling the kitchen. Personally I like to spend my weekends 'on the tiles'. Haha! Geddit? No okay, I'll shut up. Or as that classic album title says "I'll Shut Up When You Fuck Off".

Two good things have happened to me over the past two days. Good thing #I was when I was going to the pub the other night and I was passing these two scally kids, not paying them much attention cuz something was going on in my innards, but still kinda eyeing them up cuz I've been suspicious ever since I got mugged about two years ago.
Well I say mugged, it was more a case of 'intention to mug' I think. We were out flyposting some posters for an upcoming SCARPER! gig when I heard this bloke running up behind me shouting "Oi you! Aye you fucking cunt!".
So I'm like "Uh yeah?" whilst wondering if there was time to remove my glasses before he punched them into my face.
Now bear in mind that he was like about 15 stone with a borstal tattoo (y'know, them little spots on your cheekbone? You didn't know? Well now you do...) and I'm like 9 stone and prone to having a nervous glare that manifests itself as a "come-and-have-a-go-then" glare. So he says "You fucking punched my mate didn't you?". I refuted his line of argument. "Yeah you did, about ten minutes ago up there!". "Uh, no I've just come out of my house". At this point, the gorilla's compadre pointed out rather sheepishly that they had the wrong person. So at this, the big gorilla feller kinda got all flustered and embarrassed so rather than apologise started pushing us and asked us to turn our pockets out.
This I was quite happy to do, and (admittedly with a smirk on my face) handed over two plectrums, one conker, one piece of string and some fluff.
Clearly not happy with his haul, he asked what was in my carrier bag, and (with an even bigger smirk) opened it and showed him a the contents: about 5 litres of wallpaper paste (for the flyposting, see?). Freaked out, he told me to "just fucking watch it" and walked off. So anyway... where was I... oh yeah those two scallies approaching me on my way to pub... but time for a fresh paragraph I think since I digressed rather back there....

So there they were approaching me and I was contemplating my bowels. As they neared me, one of them said "You're a fucking geek and I'm gonna knock you out".
This made me happy, at last I had been recognised for what I am. No longer a student. Not even an ex-student. Not a hippy. Or a skinhead. Or a puff. Or a weirdo. Or a trendy. He had elevated me to my true position in life, a 100% real-live, no-doubt-about-it, geek! At last, my role in life confirmed. My chest swelled with a kind of Milo Auckerman geek-ness as I revelled in the moment. Meanwhile, the scally, clearly perturbed by my lack of offence, repeated his statement.
At which point, and I must point out totally involuntarily, my bowel movements manifested themselves and I let rip with a huge sky-tearing, pavement-shaking, leaf-dropping fart. Y'know one of those beauties that resembles a comedy trombone, with a crescendo of rasping noise and only lacking in a punk rock "oi oi" at the end. The scallies walked away and didn't say anything else.

And so onto my good thing number two: I was in York Minster today, not for any religious reasons but more for 'once an architect always an architect' type of reason. So there I was perusing the column capitals and fluted panels when I notice this guy over the other side of the church with static-electricity hair, a duffel-coat and a wild look in his eyes gesticulating at me.
He was waving his hands around his head and pointing at me and although his mouth was shouting, no noise was coming out. So I'm thinking "uhoh, nutter alert, just ignore him" and continue walking. But he's still there, getting more frantic, like a fucking jackrabbit on speed. Aha, I get it, it's just the church attempting to modernise itself, it's religious charades. Now what's he doing? Hmm, crucifixion? Ponscious Pilot? Feeding of the 5000? Difficult this one. Then I get his wonderful charade, he wants me to take my hat off. Ah, I win, that's 1-0 to me then. Apparently I have sinned. At least that's what I assumed since he didn't explain, merely stormed off in the huff (probably because he'd lost the charades game). So apparently I must show respect to the lord and show him my pate.
Well fuck you Almighty Up Above, I was cold and I wanted to wear a hat. I don't see Sikhs removing their turbans or Jews removing their skullcaps to offer pious submissiveness to their respective astral bodies.

Anyway, I left the church puffed up with pride for the second time in two days. I, little old me, just an insignificant cog in the big machine, had personally pissed off the Lord. Three days ago I was just Russell Remains - now I am Russell 'Geek #666' Remains.
So uh, Rick, have I written enough to warrant the loan of your mouse yet? I hope so. What's that Rick? Why don't I plug something? Oh go on then, since you forced me... I just got the advance tape for the new ANNALISE CD (called "Something's Got To Give") and I am in love. It is truly a wonder of the modern world. Anyway, that'll be out in January or February on Pigdog, six tracks and it'll be beautifully cheap at £3 including post. Even the little car on top of the computer likes it, cuz he's just rolled off onto the keyboard. Unless of course, it was the Lord exacting revenge on Geek #666.
During production of this column I listened to: ANNALISE advance tape (of course), TRANS MEGETTI, HATEBREED, STARMARKET, PEGBOY and "Geoff Love's Big Disco Sound - Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Other Disco Galactic Themes".
CONTACT: Russell - PO Box 43 - Hull - HU1 1AA - UK
GEEKS CONTACT: pigdogrec@hotmail.com