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Profile for Joe Scaramanga:
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I ain't round here much at the moment cos I'm doing this...



Join me as I attempt to review all 80-odd NOW albums before the 30th anniversary of the first release, in November.
Ha, fat chance.





Welcome to The Crazy World Of Joe Scaramanga.

It's not quite the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, but then, what is?

I'm an honest Somerset lad trying, and failing, to make in Londinium.

I currently spend my days banging my head against my desk whilst trying to deal with the numpties I happen to have to be a slave to, and who earn far more than I do for doing very little. But then I'm sure you do the same.

My freetime is spent drinking, smoking, watching more bad movies than is strictly healthy, trawling around for obscure library music and worrying about my flat falling down.

I CAN HAZ CATS!

Randall...

Hopkirk...


Anyhoo...

joescaramanga.co.uk LIVES!!!

For what it's worth, browse the complete adventures of Dan's Dares (so far!), a selection of the best/worst movie posters I've done, and the crap videos I've made.


My poorly maintained, and infrequently updated thingamawotsit.
It started as a place to vent my frustrations at the world, but as now just become a peek into the world of 'Joe's Video Collection'.

I'm emailable too: contact at joescaramanga.co.uk...

Look what the Fiend did for me!


BADGES!


courtesy of me


courtesy of Mr Sanity with whom I share a hometown it seems...


courtesy of evilscary...

I was there MAN!!!


Cheers c_kick

Sonic Broom did this, he's ace:

Joe Scaramanga - O2 Wireless Festival - 16/06/07


Scaramanga the man or Scaramanga the legend? That's the question on everyone's lips as the festival draws to a close. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife in Hyde Park, and after daft Punk have done their silly robot thing, on comes Scaramanga.

The light show kicks off, nearly blinding the audience and causing Prodigy 69 to complain bitterly - but for those who still have retinas remaining, the shap of a lone JS taking the stage cause a frenzy of excitement.

Opening with "You'll Never Need A Merkin If You Don't Shave First" the overdriven ukelele of Scaramanga lifts the clouds from the skies and lets the moon beam down on his congregation. As one hit begets another, it's not long before the entire crowd is singing along, lighters in the air.

An ill-judged comment about Hitler aside, this is a spectacular night that will live long in the memory, and closer "Shmerg Shmerg Shmerg Song" leaves the crowd eager for more. Top Drawer work.

4.5/5

Recent front page messages:



(Mon 14th Oct 2013, 13:10, More)




NB pedants: I chose Whitney because they always say Whitney rather than Dolly
(Thu 12th Sep 2013, 12:20, More)

nyom nyom

(Tue 25th Jun 2013, 9:29, More)



(Fri 7th Jun 2013, 13:11, More)

YYYEEEEAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

(Thu 4th Apr 2013, 13:15, More)



(Wed 9th Jan 2013, 10:09, More)

science

(Fri 9th Nov 2012, 9:29, More)



(Fri 10th Feb 2012, 11:00, More)



(Fri 3rd Feb 2012, 13:11, More)

hahahaha!
More villains...


(Thu 15th Dec 2011, 9:15, More)

Best answers to questions:

» Awesome Sickies

Nice boss...
When I was 19 taking my year off to 'save some money for Uni' I had a right royal bender with a mate I hadn't seen for years.
Next day, at work, I became incredibly queasy, unsurprising considering the combinationof lager, Jack daniels and Baileys that was trying to escape from my bowels.
After an hour of continual top and bottom excavation my boss enquired as to whether I was alright (bear in mind this is a Saturday).
"What did you eat yesterday?", he asked.
"Well... I had a Maccy D for lunch"
"Ah, that'll do it. You don't want to eat Macdonalds.You've probably got food poisoning".
He rang my dad to let him know I was coming home. I shit it. Not just because of my ill health, but because my Dad was a bit of a drinker, but liked to boast that he never missed a days work because of it (he once slaughtered my brother for it, and threatened to chuck him out of the house for good if he didn't go to work with a hangover).

My boss, overcome with compassion, DROVE ME HOME.

We arrive to find my Dad looking stern on the doorstep. I trudged in sheepishly.
As my boss drove away, my Dad burst into laughter. "If he can't tell the difference between food poisoning and being a pisshead, then he's a stupid cunt. Well done son."
(Fri 9th Jun 2006, 8:22, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Dear Cheryl Cole
Why don't you just come clean, as it were, and admit that your 'marriage' to Ashley Cole was nothing but a face-saving excercise?
It seems too much of a coincidence to many people after your racist altercation with a lowly toilet attendent, within six months you had married a black man (incidentally putting to bed those rumours about him being gay, which occurred about the same time).

I'm sure you'd like the majority of the british public to believe it was just a coincidence. Just like the fact you and Mr Cole have the same management team is 'just a coincidence'.

Like it's 'just a coincidence' that rumours of Ashley's affairs always seem to come out just before you release a single, like 'Fight for our Love', which makes the public go all weepy and sympathetic for you.

I'm sure you had no idea that the press had been sitting on the latest affair rumours for six months before they decided to release the details on the day you announced your new single, thus allowing the media to plug it everytime they mentioned the 'news' story.

I'm sure that you're not that thick, that you can't see that you're allowing your life to be turned into a fun-packed soap-opera which benefits only those people around you, and means that when the truth finally emerges the public will go back to hating you almost as much as they hate your 'husband'. You also realise this whole affair has probably killed any chances your 'best friends' in Girls Aloud ever had of having a career of their own (except maybe the ginger one).

As Troy McClure said to Selma Bouvier: "Of course this marriage is a sham. The difference is, we know ours is a sham."

Yours
Sarah Harding
(Wed 10th Mar 2010, 10:13, More)

» Why I Love/Hate Britain

The obsession with pomp and circumstance
There's nothing wrong with being proud of your history if you have a nice history.
If you have a history of going around the world and murdering millions of people and stealing their natuarl resources, and then fucking up other countries who try to do the same thing but make the mistake of doing it on your own doorstop instead of the other side of the world, well, that's not really something to be proud of, is it.

We are a nation obsessed with history, tradition and all things old.

The royal family is a vile institution which somehow the masses have been brainwashed into believeing we need. We don't.

Judges wigs and robes, Black Rod and the state opening of Parliament, trooping the colour, Lord Mayor's Show... all bobbins reminders of YOUR place in the grand scheme of things: at the bottom, looking up at your betters.

It's unbelievable to me that a country that is happy, and indeed welcomes, judges and lawyers to dress like utter tits somehow has a problem with women wearing 'traditional' clothes. A country which dragged thousands of people from around the world to come and work here, now decides it doesn't want them anymore. A country where people will gladly see a needy neighbour die in poverty than admit that the problems of this country are caused by those at the top rather than those at the bottom of society.

This country can be beautiful. Unfortunately most of the time, it brings out the worst in people.
(Fri 4th Oct 2013, 11:30, More)

» Political Correctness Gone Mad

Not gay enough
My best mate (I'll call him Harry)is gay, but often provokes the reaction "well, if you hadn't said anything I would never have known", basically cos he doesn't mince about, likes 'proper' music, and is into battleships and war.

Anyway, a mate of his (let's say his name's Brian) who is a camp as Christmas, was very excited cos Kylie was playing G.A.Y, but they were limiting it to two tickets per person, and he needed four. Knowing that Harry wasn't in the least bit interested he asked him to go with him to the Astoria to pick up the required number of tickets (two each).

They queue for two hours, Brian picks up his tickets no problem, then harry steps up.

"Sorry mate. This is a gay club"
"yeah, I know. I come here a lot."
"No. No tickets for you. NEXT!"
"hang on a minute..."
"You're not gay. No tickets. NEXT!"

Now, Harry was slightly put out by this. Admittedly, he doesn't dress or act like a stereotypical queen, but he can suck a cock with the best of them (so he says), so what exactly was he suppossed to do to persuade the ticket manhe was gay?

After much pleading from himself and Brian, and the threat of a huge bouncer throweing him into the gutter, they conceded defeat, and Brian had to make other arrangements for his other tickets.

Harry ranted about it for hours, mainly to the tune of "fucking mincing queens get on my fucking tits".
(Mon 26th Nov 2007, 14:37, More)

» The Police II

The Perils of no-budget film making and how all policemen are not wankers
Back in my youth, I, along with a group of mates, had aspirations of becoming of a film director.
One of our group had already made a couple of amateur shorts and I decided I wanted to do one too.
I had the perfect location for my 'deal gone bad' masterpiece: underneath an flyover was a car park, with a suitably dishevelled appearance, which also had a path leading to the local train station and a grotty footbridge.

So we spend the day filming, chasing each other with toy guns. One of the guns however was a probably illegal blank firing Baretta replica that a freibd ahd acquired. We didn't have any ammo for it, for it certainly looked (and felt) the part.

As we were shooting the final scene in the footbridge over the train station, we were approached by a very pleasant policeman.

"Afternoon boys. What you guys up to then?"
"Oh, we're making a film ... for my college project"
"In the summer holidays?"
"Yeah, I wanted to get a head start"
"OK..."

At this point I could feel my bowels loosening. Not only were we in posession of a dangerous weapon. Not only that but in a suitcase we had what could pass to the casual eye as a semtex bomb, complete with cheap alarm clock timer.

"well, we've had several reports about young men matching your description chasing each other around the car park with guns. You know anything about that?"
"Yeah, that would be us. They're only toys though."

Out of the corneer of my eye, I noticed my friend had done a good job of shoving the baretta down the back of his trousers and was now leaning against the wall to conceal it.
I showed the policeman the shabby looking toy gun I had in my hand and he seemed satisfied.

"It's just that... welll... we've got an armed response unit sitting down there waiting to bust you lot. I clocked the camera and asked to come and talk to you lot first. Good job I did really."

At this point the train station manager had made an appearance. An appearance very much like Blakey from On the Buses, but with glasses as an added bonus.

PC: "Look fellas, if you're going to do something like this, it's probably a good idea to let us know first. Y'know, just in case"

He wished us luck and walked back to his car.

As he did, a nearby coach pulled away revealing TWO unmarked white vans, with several tooled up SO19 officers (I counted six, but there could have been more).

The policeman couldn't have been nicer or more helpful. The train station manager was a complete cunt and threatened to prosecute us for trespassing (despite the fact we were on a public footbridge, and a cop had just had a word and done nothing).

I amnaged to wrangle some kind of cut from the footage we had, but sadly the tape has been lost to the ravages of a damp flat.
(Fri 6th May 2011, 8:32, More)
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