Been deep in conference with my long-standing non-virtual colleague the esteemed and notorious Bismillah Raxmani Rahim, "The Shadow", friend to the dispossed and proprietor of Blogistan your first stop for eastern-westercism. Bismillah, or Ed as he sometimes calls himself to ease the flow of conversation, is just off to bury himself in the desert. N'shallah Bismillah! Let us hope Dubya is not using his roaming ASCII parser on TWANBOC my good friend, or we shall be back to the old days of photocopied leaflets at Tottenham Court Road tube!
Ed was sucking on his hookah singing the praises of Bookshelf, Truth Hurts, Bollywood and Diwali, those likkle riddims with their off-kilter hindutastic beats. I even managed to stretch to a whole (Greensleeves) LP of Diwali the other day, and whole riddim LPs memsab, they're not my cup of chai. Surveying the turkish cafe we were in for seeds from the Bush, Bismillah (for so he was born), whispered the words "Harry Toddler on Clappas" in my ears then winked like the oily digger he is. I quickly paid for our Peppermint Tea and Hash Cakes and before you could say "zag ga zaga za" was propping up the counter downstairs at Daddy Kool in Berwick Street. Eventually picking up the 7" offender in, wait for it, the original beatnik emporium, Soul Jazz- only just managing not to lose my edge in the process. Cool tune Bismillah! Be gentle with those Camels you feelthy rogue!
Posted by Woebot at April 4, 2003 12:23 AM