"It's only a moment of time before the dime bag reaches my pipe line, baby..."
Yelawolf - Heroine (From Stereo; 2008)
Nevermind, eh? On the plus side of things, at least this girl who appeared as a recent Street Boner is still alive for those of us with a penchant for ratty Jewish broads with horsey faces, ghastly tattoos, questionable hygeine and Herpes :
I checked out this new Can I Have The Club Back Please mixtape by Mr Collipark in the hope that Senorita by Treal Lee & Prince Rick would be a cover version of the Puffy classic (alas, it isn't, nor is it anywhere near as good as Get At Me Now, Mr Hit Dat, Throwed Off, or 501 Levi's) and because I was curious to hear what a 2011 Bubba Sparxxx & Ying Yang Twins collaboration that promises to "put the dick back in ridiculous" sounds like (answer : amusing but nothing to ever warrant a second play), but the surprise of the 'tape has to be the almost-Martian-Slappin' You Know You Like That by Ying Yang Twins, which indicates that Collipark might be about to swagger-jack Young L's sound like his protege Soulja Boy gaffled Lil B's lexicon and mannerisms :
"Say you like it in the butt, are you for real? I just came to fuck, I ain't come for no shitty deal...bitch"
Mr Collipark ft. Ying Yang Twins - You Know You Like That (2011)
The entertainment we consume between the impressionable adolescent years of, like, eight to eighteen sets us up for nothing but disappointment during adulthood, so word-up to those quoted lyrics above as another paradigm of Rap dealing with the important male issues no other genre of music would/could dare undertake because there's a rather colossal gulf between the fantasy of anal-sex in the porno flicks one sees as a teenager with chicks who've had enemas beforehand and the harsh reality (no Husalah) of that first time you pulled your dick out of your significant other's backside to find it smeared with poop and sweetcorn.
Here at The Martorialist we love when cats be thinkin' that Malcolm McLaren's iconic stint spent orchestrating the rise and fall of the Sex Pistols was bigger than a sumo, 'cause that's when we hit 'em with a lil' Puerto-Rican Judo :
Oh, jou don' know that the best music of Malcolm's career was produced during his tenure Eric B-ing the World's Famous Supreme Team with songs like Hey DJ and World's Famous. And jou don' know that if you happen to be circumscribed to the original wave of British punk then Neat, Neat, Neat by The Damned and Ever Fallen In Love by The Buzzcocks are better than anything the Sex Pistols ever whipped up. And jou don' know that if you disagree, then, homeboy, you're wrong as fuck.
Where I'm hoping our opinions all rendezvous like "me too!" is the notion that the most notable accomplishment to emerge from Malcolm's punk period would have to be the o.g Jordan AKA Pamela Rooke who he and Vivienne Westwood employed at their Sex boutique before she went on to become a mainstay in the Pistols's entourage of peacocks and appeared as Amyl Nitrate in Derek Jarman's Jubilee. She's everything arousing about Myra Hindley's mugshot, 70's British smut (she had the decency to get her bum and baps out), and Princess Di' sounding middle-class girls that like to play dress-up all distilled into a single bird who went on to become a vet :
This is looking a jpg of a Burzum album cover and a picture of heavily tattooed Hell's Angels short of a generic Tumblr post here, so let's wrap this one up with the video to the classic shiny-suit era Bad Boy remix of Mariah's Honey, which was a much better freak of Hey DJ than AZ & SWV's lumpen Hey AZ.
Mariah Carey ft The Lox & Ma$e - Honey Bad Boy remix
I'm not sure whether the Razzle Romp was the first crap-pun/theme based multi-woman photoshoot series to appear in porn mags to emerge from the Paul Raymond stables, but they were the ones we certainly came across most frequently as teens, and they seem to be the most highly regarded/fondly remembered on the oracle of grot that is the Vintage Erotica forum. Essentially that place is the porn version of the T.R.O.Y Rap-nerd message board where you can find every obscure Rap release you'd ever or never want, only instead of finding the discographies of Brainsick Mob and L-Fudge, you have scans of old porn mag photoshoots and links to threads on the models with their real names and various pseudonyms, their other photoshoots, unseen pictures which were previously sold to European magazines and slightly dubious anecdotes about them visiting sex shops in Bradford and lapdancing clubs in Birmingham. Thankfully it's all delivered in an informative but jokey manner since some of the contributors appear to ex-porno writers/photographers as opposed to the "I HAD A WANK OVER THIS BIRD IN 1989 AND NOW WANT TO WALLPAPER MY HOUSE IN HER PICTURES AND TURN UP ON HER DOORSTEP TOMORROW MORNING AND ASK HER TO MARRY ME!!!!" sorta way you'd expect from a board for old porn mag completists. At least that's what I'm telling myself anyway as I plough through the Razzle Romp threads and crop pictures down with MSPaint.
Here in the U.K we were bound by strict anti-obsenity laws in the 70s, 80s and 90s which meant any type of hardcore sex was inadmissible in our porn mags and movies (any shots of oral or penetration were a no-no and magazines were forbidden from showing any pink or using certain words on their covers) and thus British porn ended up stuck in a softcore rut, dwarved by the products from the American (hardcore and exotic) and European porn (hardcore and full of taboo-breaking gimmicks involving animals, shit, piss and everything else you've ever heard Kool Keith fetishizing) porn industries of the time which were smuggled into the country for sale on the black market. So, as a slightly repressed country who could only really process sex in comedic terms (Benny Hill, Carry On movies, that Striptease competition video hosted by Bernard Manning and Sue Pollard which Dom has) we dealt with this combination of censorship and inadequacy the only way we knew how : we came up with some awful saucy puns before grabbing a handful of fancy dress costumes and a couple of buckets of slop and then got our kits off.
That's my theory anyway, and it's such creativity in spite of the most archaic obsenity laws in the western world which accounts for the Razzle Romp being the only porn I'm ever tryna crack a quick one off to nowadays despite potentially having the world of pornography at my fingertips. Razzle Romps are imaginative, fun and erotic, and, as anyone that's ever been talked into role play by a biploar chick with overwhelming daddy issues knows, that's an incredibly difficult unification to master. The sheer breadth of substances used in Razzle Romps is really quite staggering, though. Being already familiar with baked beans, eggs, flour, and custard, it didn't suprise me that yoghurt, whipped cream, jelly, and ice cream would also feature, but salad?Grapes being crushed to make wine?Clay?Silly string?Paint? That's your 5 Portions Of Fruit & Veg' A Day covered with enough mess left over to hold an 80s music themed Xmas party afterwards where everyone recreates the Hello video and that Stone Roses NME cover.
I've not seen a copy of Razzle since back in the 90s when we'd usually chip in for a copy from the late night garage on the way home from a pub or club and then use 95% of it to decorate someone's car with (slyly managing to shove the Romps and the other best couple of pages in your pockets when your accomplices weren't looking, obviously), so I had no idea that that there hasn't been a Razzle Romp since 1997 as the "Razzle-stack" position which would usually account for the valedictory Romp picture - a group of five or six girls laying on their fronts and stacked up on top of each other, with their arses and poons pointed towards the camera - was outlawed by the EU due to health and safery reasons since, I shit yee not, the girl on the bottom of the stack would often encounter breathing problems due to the weight of five or six other chicks on top of her. I swear I'm not making this up and I'm so flabbergasted by this revelation that I don't even have the energy to segue into something wrestling related where I'd embed videos of Yokozuna and Rikishi sitting on some unfortunate jobbers to close this post before exiting stage left pursued by bear and leaving you in the hands of a Kool Keith song from the Sex Style Unreleased Archives album.
E'ryone's entitled t'own opinion, as Siobhan herself says, and it's this blog's belief that Ms. O'Dowd deserves offical I Don't Care If You Wouldn't, I would status bestowed on her stank but still totally doable ass.
Whaddaya say, 2Shin?
Mr Fingers - Can You Feel It?
Original Concept - Can You Feel It?
From the days when sampling The Warriors wasn't utterly passe.
I've gotta wonder if Don knows he's talkin' bollocks when he declares that that Vanity 6 wrote and produced all the music on their LP (it wuz Prince wot did all that), but he and I are definately on the same wavelength when he looks to the audience after the performance and grunts "they bad, ain't they?". I don't think I'm ever going to be able to listen to Nasty Girl again without doing the point-to-the-head which Vanity does during the "think they got more water upstairs than they got sugar on the candy cane" and that's the sign of a great video clip of a song : one which illuminates details of the song in such a manner that you'll forever listen to it and interact with it slightly differently afterwards.
Cot-fucking-damn, son - Denise Matthews AKA Vanity and Susan Moonsie sure were mighty fine pieces of ass, right? Brenda Bennett the token cracka seems way out of her depth next to two foxes from outer space like Denise and Susan, but, I dunno, she sorta has that old skool Razzle Romp steez which Bananarama also had in spades that really swings my pendulum and the sneer she puts on when she does the "Duh-duh-duh-duh"'s in the refrain are hotter than this gif :
Well, maybe not hotter than that, but i'm sure you'll agree that Brenda's effort is appreciated nontheless.
Dr Jeckyll & Mr Hyde - The Challenge
There's your standard Martorialist rap tie-in here with The Challenge by Dr Jeckyll & Mr Hyde being the first example of a a rap song which was a direct answer record to a mainstream hit, but, really, this is a post designed for drooling over Vanity 6 pictures not waffling on about obscure rap records from 1982 with lyrics like "my love is so good and hard it could be my credit card".
Let's zone out this sunday to some pictures of Isabelle Adjani as Stella in Roman Polanski's The Tenant, yeah?
As the third part of Polanski's apartment/claustrophobia trilogy, The Tenant is probably...look, you either know this about The Tenant already, or couldn't give a shit because you're about to go see Hot Tub Time Machine again this weekend, so let's just concentrate on Isabelle here since she does have the purdiest mouth ever. She may look more stunning in Herzog's 1979 reimagining of Nosferatu, but prettiness often doesn't equate to sexiness, and both prettiness and sexiness are nullified when the object of desire is a meek virgin running through colonies of diseased rats dressed like the grandmother in 'Allo 'Allo, as Isabella did when cast as Lucy Harker in Nosferatu : Phantom Der Nacht.
When our object of desire has the greatest women's coat in the history of cinema (competition is none, other than the similar black number Anna Karina wears in Alphaville) and can make Deidre Barlow/Log Lady spactacles as erotic an accessory as denim hot pants, however, then we are dealing with a higher echelon echanting dame.
Biggie's "Educated, so I can bust off on they glasses" remains the most pertinent rap lyric on the appeal of bespectacled women, but which is the better song which features it? The rap-nerd in me wants to say it's Uncle Luke's Bust A Nut because it's an authentic track from when Biggie was alive, but sometimes you've just gotta let go of your anal theorizing and give it up for the superior choon, even if it is a posthumous Born Again track with a sample used on Puba & Mary J.'s classic Check It Out remix.
Uncle Luke ft. Biggie Smalls - Bust A Nut
Notorious B.I.G ft. Too $hort - Big Booty Hoes
Actually, it's because Too $hort is on it and because it's a sample used on an old Puba & Mary J track that it adheres to my rules-for-posthumous-Biggie-shit to work, what with the Uptown-Puffy-Bad Boy connection and his previous work with $hort so you could imagine it as something Biggie would've made in 1998. Don'tcha just wish they'd have got Puba on it too kicking some filthy lyrics about getting chix to see how wide they could split their skinz, though?
Bumpy Knux had a point with his "save Hip Hop like Ghost did for Wu" line in 2000 what with Supreme Clientele coming out mere months earlier after a string of mediocre Wu albums, but the remark was a little uncharitable to Dirty's underrated 1999 N*gga Please opus. This was, after all, an album which not only rivaled Return To The 36 Chambers in terms of dementedness, but which also was the first example of a Wu-member successfully moving out from under the tutelage of RZA to create an album which wasn't half bad.
But tonight I'm all about post-prison/rehab Roc-A-Fella era Dirty. Specifically, the tracks where he rapped over piano samples (Dirty and Mariah have gone way back like the proverbial babies and pacifers, but Dirty + piano samples were as potent a combination as John Woo & Yun-Fat Chow or Hawksbee & Jacobs or Steven Seagal & Russian maids), and his Dirty Minded documentary from 2004 :
ODB - Lift Ya Skirt
Since this is one I only have on 12" and the only Mp3 of it I can find is the version from the A Son Unique bootleg with a gruesome Missy verse which is the audio equvalent of fat chix doin' burlesque slapped right bang in the middle of it, I think you'll agree that a Youtube embed will have to suffice here. Wild-west piano, a hook which sounds it's delivered by one of the cast of Bugsy Malone and Dirty's declaration that he "fucks pussy until orange like Ernie & Bert" got me cursing Dame Dash for not shooting a video for this one before Dirt carked it as this could have been the most fucked-up hit single of the last decade.
ODB ft. Black Rob - High In The Clouds
An ODB & Primo hook up should've resulted in something half decent, but Pop Shotz could stake a fairly substantial claim for being the most boring Primo production ever if it weren't for that terrible 50 & Primo track from a couple of years back, so the highlight of Dirty's otherwise dire Osirus : The Mixtape ended up being High In The Clouds where our hero tonight raps and wails offkey over the type of piano you were never taught during music lessons in high school. Add in a verse from the usually dependable Black Rob and, voila, we have a gem.
And then there's the Dirty Minded documentary. You know how the trailer for Die Hard 4 was so packed with all the crucial moments that it made sitting down to watch the movie a superfluous experience? Well, I don't wanna do that here by posting all the best quotables from this, but if you've not seen it before allow me to whet your appetite with this nugget from when he pays tribute to his favourite part of the female anatomy :
"The favourite part of a woman.. is when her feet walk across the floor.. without a smell.. but with a smell that you can smell... your own smell.. and you know that feet stink - it got a certain aroma to it.. and you calculatin' how her ass moves from side to side with that aroma.. and you know that it's aroma in that ass too.. but you can lick that asshole but you won't get no aroma..but you know that the aroma existses.."
Since our post about Immortal Technique and Filipino Frank proved to bepopular, we decided to find out what exactly happened to Frank after his ill-fated suicide attempt. Turns out he's still alive, out of the mental ward, living off some kind of lavish military discharge pension in Florida and back posting on UGHH.com under a veritable smorgasbord of usernames.
But the obligations attendent on rap message board legends known for beating up underground rappers in front of their own fans are no joke; fellow posters can be a fickle bunch and, really, how can you ever top headbutting Immortal Technique and then kicking him down the stairway entrance to Fat Beats NYC? Well, you could use your new found freetime and wealth to procure the services of 'net whores, pregnant hookers and trannies, and then film them as Frank is now doing on the UGHH.com general discussion board. We haven't watched any of them as we saw Frank's chipolata dick enough times when he'd spam the board with pictures of it and we need to see it again like we need extra wisdom teeth, but you've gotta admit that his ruminations on the appeal of trannies is, at the very least, interesting :
"I don’t know if im gay or not. Ive paid 35 regular hooker girls in my life. And fucked 45 girls in my life. And 1 tranny. Im not sure if im gay or not. Im going through a sexual crisis. But I loved fucking that tranny. It gave me peace. It felt so good and amazing that a girl that good looking has a cock. Im fucking fascinated by that."
If you really must investigate his first, pun very much intended, full-blown tranny experience then you can find it here. Even the account of it posted was a little too graphic for us to not skim through but the we're kinda feelin' the smoothness of the post-coital transaction :
"I pop a smoke in my room. She comes out fully dressed. I go to the microwave where I stashed the 200 bucks then I give it to her."
Luckily, Frank's slide into depravity has also yielded some slightly non gay Youtube friendly video footage where he chronicles his relationship with some Janis Soprano lookin' Wildebeest called Iris from the time they chat on webcam, to her making a 2 hour flight to Florida for sex, to her inevitable rambling nutjob break-up phone messages :
You ol' heartbreaker, you. Frank, you've knocked out a rapper and sucked the cock of another man for internet lulz, now it's time to fulfill your destiny by combining the two incidents : fly to New York, find famed Vordul snuffer Will High and have sex with him.
You can fight politically naive rappers, but you can't fight fate, Frank. Go forth, warrior.
Watching Jason and John stuff a couple of ferrets down the special shellsuit Suzi was wearing on The Gadget Show last night was the most Animal Farm-ish thing I've seen on tv since, well, that C4 documentary The Dark Side Of Porn : The Real Animal Farm a few years back, where the notorious grossfest was revealed to be less a real movie, and more a compilation VHS of various shorts by the legendary 70s Danish smut peddlers Color Climax Corporation and clips from 2 documentaries made about the Ursula Andress of bestiality, Bodil Joensen, smuggled into the UK sometime in 1981.
Do people under the age of 30 who've grown up with home internet and all the free hardcore pornography of every conceivable variety available at their fingertips pay homage to Animal Farm or is it thought of a bit quaint by those raised on the likes of Bathtub Girl, the Russian soldier being decapitated, Ogrish.com, 2 Girls 1 Cup and Rickrolling? All register the highest possible readings on the EWWW! richter scale but I opine that a woman having sex with long-donged horses and corkscrew cocked pigs is still just that bit more gross than watching skanks 'n' shite or cyber booby-traps involving Stock, Aitken and Waterman standards. Shout-outs to I'd Rather Jack by The Reynolds Girls, though, obviously :
Long before any of my mates or I had seen Animal Farm, we'd heard rumours of its urban legend from older kids ("she sticks eels in her fanny and then noshes off a donkey!") and the more bullshit prone members of our year in school ("Yeah, Mart, me uncle Dennis who works at the zoo made it. The bird in it used to live down the road from us. Swear down, mate") so it's mythical status had grown to Lost City Of Atlantis-esque proportions by the time we finally saw it when some girl called Claire Owens managed to get her hands on a suprisingly good quality copy and then proceeded to invite half the year of our school around to watch it one lunch break. Some people cried, others puked, the rest of us just watched on in bemused Where-is-she-going-to-put-that...OH-MY-FUCKING-GOD horror, but it was a coming of age for every last one of us in the room that day; a communal putting of hairs on our chests; our very own shared Road To Damascas moment involving various farmyard animals, a plump Danish ginger, and her dog, Spot.
So, yeah - is watching Animal Farm still the rites-of-passage every British kid must endure to officially get the keys to teendom, or is it a generational thing restricted to those of us who befell our high school years in the eighties and nineties that's obsolete due to the death of VHS and the rise of broadband with easy access to hardcore filth?
AZ - Animal
Bonus footage :
Since that footage from last night's Gadget Show doesn't appear to be on Youtube yet we'll have to end this post with the first Suzi Perry video a Youtube search bring up : footage of the wind blowing her skirt up to reveal a skimpy black pair of knickers at Royal Ascot :
Since starting this blog we've sent the Too-Much-Info-o-meter into overdrive on the occasions we posted pictures of our pasty paunch and revealed our recent foray into the world of pilates ended with a case of piles, so we feel we'd be cheating you out of vital trivia you-really-don't-want-to-know if we weren't to enlighten you that we cracked a sly one out this morning over those pictures of Sinitta - who is seriously on some hasn't-aged-since-'88 female Corey Feldman type shit - from saturday's papers.
It's a testament to Sinitta's paramount milfness that she can ooze the sex appeal of an Inca goddess standing next to a stocky, middle-aged inhabitant of Lilliput with a Paul 'Mr Wonderful' Orndorff hairdoo and some horrific bootcut jeans. Where's the from-behind shots, though? Ass pix or GTFOOH in future.
Here at The Martorialist we take a Wenger-esque approach to insipid saturday night telly, but if the existence of such shows means we get to see flicks of Sinitta prancing around wearing nothing but a handful of palm leaves in an attempt to drum up extra publicity for The X-Factor and highlight her forthcoming Greatest Hits set - which, almost unbelievely, is a double cd - then, like Frank said, you're welcome.. you're all welcome.
Tommy Cooper carking it on stage live on TV in 1984 via a heartattack as his captive audience cheered and laughed thinking it was all a part of his act is somethin' i've always heard about but never actually seen as i was probably being made to sit through Bulleye with my cruel parents instead and the footage has never been aired since so i was never quite sure if it was true or just an urban myth until it popped up on Youtube a couple of weeks ago :
There's certainly shades of Owen Hart dying during a WWF event by falling to his death from the ceiling as he made his aerial entrance and the hicks in the audience whooping and hollaring as they thought it was part of the show about this, isn't there? However, i honestly believe this even trumps that death of theatrically tragic proportions for 3 very specific reasons :
1. Okay, Owen dying in a spangly Mexican wrestler parody costume at a huge live event by doing a Hans Gruber when his harness snapped was pretty spectacular but it was between matches and not actually broadcast live unlike Tommy's death which was broadcast live to an audience of millions on primetime eighties ITV.
2. Dying is something which is slow, painful and generally pretty fucking horrible so i can think of few better ways to go out like a soldier than dying live on stage after a hot blond has just helped you into a silk robe in front of an adoring crowd who fawn over your every expression and movement.
3. If you've ever experienced someone or a pet dying in front of you you'll know there's that pre-exact-moment-of-death 5 second period when their organs stop working and their body expells all waste and air which starts with a vomitous belch and culminates in them simultaneously shitting and pissing themselves. It's the most gruesome thing i've ever had the misfortune to witness but Tommy's mammoth shart here has an almost poetic, pardon the pun, air of fuck the world, fuck my moms and my girl about it as Tommy bids farewell to this mortal coil with a thunderous fart that Zeus himself would be proud of and the audience climaxes in delight at the bellowing break of wind, proving the old point that the only thing funnier than fart jokes are farts themselves.
This begs the question : just what is going to appear on Youtube next? Footage of laughing toffs throwing peasants from the sinking Titanic into the icey ocean? A Blair Witch Project style video by the grassy knoll shooter mere seconds before pulling the trigger on JFK? A MrChiCity-esque video by Hitler from his bunker watching on as a naked Eva Von Braun chews on a cyanide freezepop? A 2 Girls 1 Cup reaction video with Lord Lucan and Jimmy Hoffa?
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