BEARDBLOG9 – OFF WITH THE BEARD

This week saw the end of the beardtour and, not before time, the end of my wafty beard. Long gone were the days when women found it manly and attractive, and words that had been used to describe it over the last few days included "unruly", "rancid" and "vagrant".

In our hotel after our Cardiff gig Little Kunt told me I'd given him stubble rash when I gave him a cuddle in the night so I knew it was time for it to go...

It was taking over my personality and I started hearing a little voice telling me to kill prostitutes. It may have just been Little Kunt but I did it just in case.


And so after dumping her off in a rolled up offcut of 70s carpet in a layby between Swansea and Bristol I finished off the tour with gigs in Bristol and Deptford.
And so my bearded adventure drew to a close and I shaved the fucker off, going via a few well known facial hairstyles as listed below.


Epilogue
Over the course of my tour and as my beard came to fruition I was taken under the wing of my bearded brethren and learned many, many dark and disturbing bearded secrets. I entered a twisted and hairy underworld where regular laws don't apply and the beard is lord and master of all. "So tell us all about it Kunt", I hear you say. Alas I cannot. I dare not speak of it, or reveal that sometimes they use wax to cover the gaps twixt moustache and beard, for fear that I will be smited by some hairy bastard with a pick axe handle. Suffice to say if you grow a beard yourself I'm sure you will soon become aware of the seedy realm of chin minges. And for those of you who can't grow one, because you are a female, or indeed a male who is not yet pubic, next time you pass a bearded man in the street, feel free to say to them "That beard doesn't hide the fact you're a nonce", although don't say that I told you to do it.

"GORDON'S SLOPPY SECONDS"
Sweary celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey leads a team of randy former MPs and publicity hungry slags in a kitchen serving up extra helpings to a roomful of punters who still have room for more food after their first helping.

"RAMSEY STIRS ARCHER'S PORRIDGE"
Sweary celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey returns to Scotland and leads a team of randy former MPs and publicity hungry slags in a kitchen developing some original slants on the traditional Scottish oaty breakfast slop by adding alcoholic beverages, including Peach Schnapps. And Buckfast.

"GORDON DRIBBLES ROUND THE BOX"
Sweary celebrity chef and former Rangers' trainee Gordon Ramsey leads two teams, one of of randy former MPs and one of publicity hungry slags as they train for a charidee football match in which Gordon limps off after five minutes.

"RAMSEY'S LOAD OF BOLLOCKS"
Sweary celebrity chef and former Rangers' trainee Gordon Ramsey chairs a quiz in which two teams, one of of randy former MPs and one of publicity hungry slags try and decide which is more wrinkly, his face or his ball sack.

"THE 'F' WORD"
Sweary celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey f-words a publicity hungry slag up the c-word while his wife makes out there's nothing going on.

BEARDBLOG8 – 8 WEEKS' GROWTH

I fear the strain that trying to grow this beard has placed on my body has affected my immune system.

Last weekend I was introduced to a baby who everytime it sneezed or coughed, farted and shat itself.
Needless to say because of my low immunity brought on by my body trying to fill out the patchy areas of my gobflange I caught this terrible viral affliction and took it on tour with me last week.
In Nottingham I made one vigorous move during soundcheck and was presented with a pantful of bum mush. I cleverly covered this up by saying through gritted teeth, "yep, that sounds fine." At which point I dashed to the bogs to wipe and hid my soiled y-fronts above a tile in the suspended ceiling.
I fared a little better in Liverpool, making it as far as the star jumps on 'Carol Vorderman' before my arsehole gave out a gravy cough.

Luckily this week I have had a week off to recuperate so I have spent most of the week on the sofa watching Jeremy Kyle. 

He's a proper fuckpig but I do like the way he goes all cockney when he's having a go at someone, "Come on mate, if you weren't so spaced off your face on cannabis joints then you might be able to bring up yer kid propahly!"

Starting Saturday is the last lot of gigs on the beardtour...

GIGS THIS WEEK
22 Nov SHEERNESS the castle
25 Nov CARDIFF buffalo bar
26 Nov SWANSEA barco
27 Nov BRISTOL the junction
28 Nov SOUTH LONDON deptford arms

more tour date details here: http://www.freewebs.com/kuntandthegang/tourdatesdetails.htm
(cut and paste the link cos Tom's disabled it from myspace, the fucker)

GIGS THIS WEEK
Tues 11 Nov - NOTTINGHAM Chameleon Cafe Bar
Wed 12 Nov - LIVERPOOL Caledonia
Thurs 13 Nov - HULL Ringside
--CANCELLED-- KEIGHLEY - K2 (14th Nov)

NEXT GIGS
Sat 22 Nov – SHEERNESS The Castle
Tues 25 Nov – CARDIFF Buffalo Bar
Wed 26 Nov – SWANSEA Barco
Thurs 27 Nov – BRISTOL Junction
Fri 28 Nov - LONDON Deptford Arms

NEW XMAS GIGS  ANNOUNCED - SEE MYSPACE


BEARDBLOG7 - 7 WEEKS' GROWTH AND MY GREAT BIG GASH

I have been growing this bastard beard for 7 weeks now.
There are still times when I forget though.
Then I catch sight of myself in a mirror and think, "why is that lanky twat with a patchy excuse for a beard staring at me?"

The other night in Norwich played out like the 'guess the accident' bit in an episode of Casualty.
There's this big tall prick in an 80s tracksuit top whose going to be singing songs about wanking to a load of drunk bastards in a venue.
Will he get electrocuted by a live wire in the sound system? No.
Will his vigorous dance movements lead to a bone sticking out his arm? No.
Will he get bottled by someone who doesn't like that kind of sexy language being used in front of his wife? No.
Oh look, here comes the accident. He's getting his bag down from a high ledge, and he's standing on one of those bar benches - you know the kind, the kind that is about six foot long and always bolted to the wall. Except this time it's not.

One minute I was stood with arms aloft reaching for my bag. The next minute there was a massive smash and everyone looked round to see me laying in a heap on my back, arms and legs flailing around having taken out two tables of glasses with me.
I got myself up and accepted the customary round of applause before limping into my dressing room.
When I wished the other day that I could get my fingers round a great big gash in my dressing room this wasn't what I had in mind.
My shin had blood pissing out of it all over the place. I wrapped a bandage round it and hobbled round the stage for 40 minutes.
This is my gash 4 days later...

I blame my hairy chin-minge. It must have unbalanced me. This is an artist's impression of what happened...


Bunch of cunts.

GIGS THIS WEEK
Tues 4 Nov - LEICESTER The Donkey
Wed 5 Nov - BIRMINGHAM The Flapper
Thurs 6 Nov - NORWICH Marquee
Fri 7 Nov - LONDON The Phoenix
NEXT WEEK
Tues 11 Nov - NOTTINGHAM Chameleon Cafe Bar
Wed 12 Nov - LIVERPOOL Caledonia
Thurs 13 Nov - HULL Ringside
--CANCELLED-- KEIGHLEY - K2 (14th Nov)

BEARDBLOG 6 - 6 weeks' growth

Having not shaved since the start of our "Men with beards (what are they hiding?)" tour  on September 19^th I am starting to gain an insight into the world of beardy blokes.
As my mangey face hair has grown in clumps around my chops it has coincided with an increase in my sex drive, so much so that I have had to start carrying a wankmag around in the glove box of my Ford Fiesta and am often to be seen relieving myself in a layby in an attempt to stave off my winky's urges.
Having been at home this past week and playing localish gigs I have had a lot of time on my hands which I've tried to fill with diversions to stop me thinking about ladies frontbottoms.
I did a bit of cash in hand work on my mate's building site and while bussing home from said job, still wearing the regulation boiler suit, I noticed one of my laces was a bit frayed. One minute I struck a match and was bending down at the back of the bus to burn off said errant threads from my trainer boot, the next I knew I was splayed out face down in the aisle in an armlock, with a chaps knee pressed in my back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shouted.
After much commotion it turned out someone on the bus had seen my sausage digits approaching my footwear with a lit Swan Vesta and mistaken me for shoebomber Richard Reid. Then some sprightly have-a-go hero had pounced on me before I could detonate me Hi-tecs!
Eventually they let me up at which point I explained I wasn't a terrorist but was in fact the popular singer, Kunt from Kunt and the Gang, which led to much embarrassment and hilarity. Luckily we all saw the funny side and I happily stayed there for ten minutes signing autographs and reciting amusing beard based anecdotes for the passengers.

See how easily these misunderstandings can occur?

GIGS THIS WEEK -
Tues28 - MAN ON THE MOON Cambridge,
Thurs 30 - THE BULL Colchester
Fri 31 - GRAYS Fat Surfer
Sat 1 Nov - HITCHIN Club 85
NEXT WEEK
Tues4 Nov - LEICESTER The Donkey
Wed 5 Nov - BIRMINGHAM The Flapper
Thurs 6 Nov - NORWICH Marquee
Fri 7 Nov - LONDON The Phoenix

BEARDBLOG5 – 5 WEEKS' GROWTH

For those of you that are just joining us now, I have spent the last 5 weeks attempting to grow a beard to get a glimpse into the psyche of bearded blokes.
Being a man in his thirties who is mature on so many other levels you would think that this would not present a problem.
I was hoping by this stage that I would have a full on Sutcliffe-style murderbeard adorning my chin area but unfortunately after 5 weeks it is still looking like a Fisher Price "My First Beard" kit.

This is me and my beard this week, with my amusing Travelodge room key...


Despite my uneven gob foliage I have again this week experienced an unusual amount of female attention.
I can only come to the conclusion that girls think I look really manly and maybe in my faux-80s-asda-copy-england-kit remind them a bit of Peter Withe or Gary Birtles. In full kit I have been told in the past that I'm actually more like Peter Crouch but without his good touch for a big man, although I can do his spacky robot dance.

In Aberdeen I was lucky enough to meet one of my boyhood heroes, bung taking moustachioed former Liverpool sticksman Bruce Grobelaar.

Let that be a lesson kids that cheats don't prosper. The former Anfield number one is scratching a living in a working men's club as a potboy, and is no longer "rapping now... rapping for fun" but instead is forced to stand on his hands while pissed Aberdonians chuck Scampi Fries and Cheese moments into his open gob, while chanting "sex in yer mooth, sex in yer mooth"!

In Newcastle there was a big turnout from the "Barry Didn't Do it" campaign office.

and if she didn't live in London, I was gonna suggest, "All back to Burley's"

Lastly but not leastly, I played at painter John Lee Bird's "before encore" exhibition. He had painted me and Little Kunt earlier this year, along with loads of other people, including the Boosh blokes and Jarvis Cockout.

Normally at any remotely highbrow shindigs I would expect to die on my arse and had no reason to suspect Saturday would be any differerent but in actual fact it went really well, leaving me wondering whether there might actually be some good vibes hidden among this embarrassing shock of fluff on the bottom half of my fizzog.

BEARDBLOG4 – 4 WEEKS' GROWTH

My facial hair is still patchy as fuck, it looks like Simon Weston's pubes.

With the occasional distinguished grey gob-pube in among my sparse dark fuzz, I reminded myself of a young John Virgo, if he had swapped his trademark maroon waistcoat for an urban camo jumpsuit, and his snooker cue for a small deformed hand puppet that squeakily spouts sexual phrases.

For some reason though women are finding my crap attempt at a beard very arousing and at this week's gigs I have been courting several offers from (admittedly plastered) young ladies who have been keen to get some beard on beard action.
Unfortunately the first couple of young ladies were wearing period pants so like a young John Virgo, I had to pot a red and a tricky brown then needed a rest to sink a long pink into the middle pocket before whipping it out and jizzing on her knockers.

One big drawback of my burgeoning face fuzz was that I failed to see the monitor from behind my chinbush when mounting the stage in Southampton and went arse over tit. Luckily the nice Mr. Summers caught it on video camera and posted it up on Youtube…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XCUnadlE8M

While in Exeter I did an internet radio interview with two young men called Chris and Ollie who seemed intent on getting me to talk about serial killers and kid fiddlers. In case they edit me unfairly I would like to state right now that I DO NOT want to go for a beer with Ian Huntley, and even if I did I don't think we could get him signed out to come for one anyway. And I WAS NOT impressed with what Fred West did, I was just trying to stress if someone does a good job tiling my bathroom I don't care what they get up to in their spare time.
 
This week we're in Aberdeen, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Newcastle and Sheffield.
See yer thereJ

Kunt x