Wednesday, 4 March 2015


If I had to smoke my potatoes or  my tomatoes or my parsley I would give them up. Inhaling the smoke from burning things is best avoided, smokimg weeds, however, is a particularly undesirable misuse of the respiratory system, smoking tobacco being of the stupidest things we can do, I know, I did it for thirty years.

But there's smoking stuff and smoking stuff. 
When I used to smoke dope I wouldn't touch weed, had to be resin, and nothing too potent, no Afghani or Paki Black, just RedLeb or MoroCcan,  the sandy-coloured stuff that had to be chipped or burnt from its tiny block.

 That Bob Marley, 'im smoke an pounda sacred 'erb inna week, mon,  every week,


an' 'im dead  at t'irty two or some such  t'ing.

it is true that Marley died very young from a bone cancer contracted after  kicking a football and hurting his toe, but a pound of weed a week won't have helped.

It is unsurprising, to me, at any rate, that this over-engineered and over-commercialised Skunk stuff, seeds and pods and leaves and twigs, as well as giving you a sore throat, will drive you mental and Jon Snow's otherwise laughably hysterical show revealed  one tiny truth, one most of us have always known, which is that cannabis resin contains  its own brain-safety compound and weed doesn't.

The nature of Sox's inquiry was that a load of ridiculous, old, white, middle-class, student stoners 

- Jenny No-Knickers Bond, 

 Matthew Parris, 
Well, I'm on Radio Four quite a lot. And I write a column for Mr Murdoch  but I'm seldom on the telly, these days, so I thought I'd just come on this, and take part. I can generally think of something to say.

No, you're right, I'm not the gay young thing I used to be. So why anyone'd be interested in me getting stoned, well, I'm fucked if I know. Amyl nitrate, now, there's a buzz.

Richard Branson, he was there, hissing away.
Some of his Virgin Records musicians had used cannabis.
Some of the music was good. But some of it was too long.

and Sox, himself.

All would get a bit stoned under scientific conditions, have their brains scanned and depending on whether they had taken hash or skunk draw conclusions as to the merits of legalisation as opposed to continued control.  Sox, claimed to have been, under the infuence of a puff or two of Skunk, separated from his VerySoul, the mad old fool. They should all, in my view, have been arrested, everybody in the studio, for possession or conspiracy to possess and supply a Class A drug.  It is said that the governmen approved this showbiz experiment but if that is the case it should also arrest itself.
Why is it OK for a gang of geriatric, establishment luvvies to possess dope but not OK for me? I'm as experimental as can be, more scientific, too, I shouldn't wonder

Arrest, that's what would have happened to any bunch of Rastamen sitting around ingesting hash and weed - No, mon, be cool, I an' I is not gettin' stoned, mon, ill-eegally,  me is par-tekkin' of a hexperiment.

That prat of a bloke off the wrecked bodies show, he was there, too, Dr Christian-something
or something-Christian
co-presenting with Sox, bringing to the experiment all the gravitas of a telly-doctor media tramp.   
Christian is a man quite naturally living life at one remove from reality, if Dr Christian illustrates the merits of being straight then one should get stoned and stay stoned, forerever, fucking idiot.

Sox, post scanner, groping a ree-surcher, seeking his soul.

He was later to exclaim that the whole, wide world was watching this tripe, amazed at all the discoveries.  And things like that.
 Pioneering. Groundbreaking. Proof at last.
Nobody at C4 should ever send Sox to cover the Second Coming, his head would explode with imagined self-importance.

 I suppose the show's redeeming grace was that it included Professor David Nutcase, the pharmo-expert  sacked by Blind Boy Blunkett for uttering a  truth  which the deranged, cock-waving mutant didn't want to hear - that cannabis should be legalised.

But even as sane and cool a mind as Nutt's was shackled to Sox's inescapable news-as-showbiz schtick, forced to  run around the studio like a mad person, to fuck about with a big plastic brain and a nonsensical Harm Meter, something not unlike Sox's uncle, Peter Snow's, idiotic swingometer.
It's what they think of us, the Snows and the Dimblebys and the rest. We need pictures and gadgets, 
to help us understand things.
And celebrities, too,
 they help our understanding.
I expect he'll want a BAFTA, Sox, 
for this unadulterated rubbish.

Legalise it, 
nuff said.



lilith said...

Eeeewwww! You deserve a medal for watching so we don't have to.

call me ishmael said...

That's what I thought, too, it was utterly risible.

Anonymous said...

Can't stand the Snowman so I didn't see this, but it may have legs: every week a fresh batch of slebslags and a different psychotropic guest-star - salvia divinorum, DMT, magic reindeer piss. There are probably cheap & cheerful versions of this already on YouTube but I can think of plenty of creatures who'd benefit from a quick waltz with the machine-elves (a common vision among DMTrippers, apparently.)

I can just see the headline after an Ayahuasca special: "Simon Cowell Eaten Alive By His Own Spirit Animal."


call me ishmael said...

I had to keep shaking myself. I fucking hate Snow, his fucking uncle and his fucking uncle's fucking bastard telly historian fucking son but even I never expected anything as ludicrous as this. Jenny Bond. Stoned. Fuck me it was like being in the middle of a crazy, surreal nightmare. So what I'd do was I'd switch channels and the other channel was a cockumentary about the German megabrothels, honest to God, it was, fucking great fuck-factories, full of blase teenage whores walking about stark naked, Jurgen, the proprietor, bringing his teenage daughter to work with him, to teach her the brothel-keeping ropes. A few minutes of that was enough and I'd pop back to Johnny Sox and his gang of stoned lunatics, where things had gone from bad to worse. The whole of social media is talking about this show, he spluttered, thumping the huge plastic brain, in congratulation. It was like One Flew Over he Cuckoo's Nest. A good job they managed to exclude the Grinning Hindu, Krishnan Guru Murthy. He'd a been running amok with his big Hindi sword, yelling for Kali or Vishnu to help him kill all these, dog-loving, cow-desecrating pothead whiteys.

Back, outside the Paradise megabrothel, feminist activists were blockading the place, fighting the cops, claiming that fuck all that shit about regulated whorehouses liberating sexworkers, pimps were dropping-off their girls of a morning, coming back for them in the evening, pocketing the takings and giving them a few romantic slaps. It was a televisual see-saw from Hell.

ms lilith is right, I need decorating. But not by the Queen.

mongoose said...

Thank God I missed that one too. Not enough dope in the house to make it bearable.

Henry North London 2.0 said...

Dr Plastic Jessen...

Anonymous said...

Tried weed for first time ever recently. Not for me. Didn't like it at all. Will stick to tobacco and alcohol. However I don't see why cannabis or any other inhalation/potion is illegal unless we don't own our own mortal frames and the consequent right to ingest as we see fit.
Maybe we don't own our bodies. Human Resources, eh?

call me ishmael said...

My resolved position, mr richard -and I did used to like dope, probably still would - is two-fold; firstly, the prohibition of what we call drugs is an impudent over reach of the criminal law and secondly, it is to do with the Ownership of Pain, it is mine, I own it and I will medicate it any way I choose to, be it physical or emotional; if someone wants to relieve me of it, then they can deal with it snyway that they choose, in the meantime, government and PharmaCorp and the NHS can go fuck themselves. As you know, I rarely take anything, legal or otherwise but I would if I wanted or needed to and there would be no issue of criminality which I could not argue to destruction in any court in the land. Cheeky fucking bastards, legislators, all owned by BigSugar, BigBooze, BigFag, telling me I can't smoke a fucking herb. The nerve of some people, who do they think they are?