Flaming June arrived a few days late in these parts, as the World & His Wife / Partner / Significant Other will have seen on the telly. Ironically, Bradford Council leaders have recently announced that they're hoping to get this country's nomination for the prestigious award of European Capital of Culture for the year 2008.

Bradford has been a shit-hole for as long as anyone alive here can remember, so the initiative had brought the odd howl of derision even before the infamous events of early July. This is but the latest in a long line of front page news stories that this apparently God-forsaken Metropolis contrives to throw up on a seemingly endless and regular basis . . . but it's not such a bad place to live in, you know ? Take the extremist dick-heads out and it's usually quite a comfy little shit-hole, (as long-since asset-stripped and plundered northern former mill towns go, that is) . . . but European Capital of Culture ???

Why didn't they put in a bid for the 2008 Olympics instead, we'd have had a better chance in view of who got that prize - and it might have led to yet another plan to modernise 'The Wembley of The North', aka Odsal Stadium, (it once held 120,000 you know ! ) - So, I fear the joke is on us yet again, but we're used to it now.

Die-hard Millwall AFC supporters have a song - "No-one likes us, we don't care" - I sense a strong local affinity with the sentiment at this juncture.

Thank Goodness for our thriving local live music scene then, and for the joyous throng, including a well-serious bunch of senior moshers, who turned up at the June gig ! At one point they threw money at us (he lies).

Readers of longstanding (are there any ?) may remember we did an earlier diatribe on the topic of 'Shite Amps'. Funny how some things come back to haunt you . . . one of the only two seemingly serviceable ones available went on the blink 'early doors' in the opening set, so it was hit, thumped, whacked and sworn at in short order, but to no avail. Once the riddim guitar went into the PA and Dave aka Trevor switched to Denny's still semi-functional battered old Roland Bolt war-horse we got going . . . and the Dancing Flock of The One-Ness arose (as One) to fill the miniscule dancing pit like Dervishes. What a Sight ! What a Night ! Nice finish - shame about the undercoat / pants. I rather fancy Dave will revert to supplying his own shite amp next time . . .

Heck - we might get stere-reo shi-ite if he does !

Let's hope that, it being in memory of Jerry, our August gig is going to be conducted throughout in a manner befitting the occasion. OK Lads ? But they're not listening . . . how can they ? Even the band doesn't read this . . . they've had the electric cut off. They've pawned the thing-y and the wotsits to get money for tripe. Did you know that tripe is the new cheese ? There you go then ! Another Bones Exclusive for ya !

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Now for yet more treats - those features we promised you recently . . . exciting news about those legendary early French pioneers of truly mythical proportions, Mutoc-Troason, and a wide-ranging discourse with their main man, Louis D'Cadnov.

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Enjoy your lives. It may be your turn to host the Dick-heads Decathlon soon . . . Wot Yew Lookin' At ? . . . Bish-Bash-Bosh ! . . . "Send Lawyers, Guns and Money" . . . but hold the guns, eh ? . . and the lawyers as well . . . Yeah, definitely the lawyers ! . . Grave-Robbin'SonsO'Bitches . . . C'est la vie, n'est-ce pas ? . . . . and does Johnny Vegas have a licence for that Minkey, or vice-versa ? Funny Old World, innit ? Okay. Okay . . . back in the box.