In a massive public display of grief, the likes of which have not been seen since the untimley passing of Princess Diana or Jade Goody, the country awoke today to the sad news that loveable Brummie Carniecore pioneers The Klopeks, finally gave up the ghost after a year long battle against "Terminal rubbish" or TR for the sake of this epitaph.

The Klopeks were pronounced dead by Jonny at a quarter past banana sambucca last night -June 28th 2007 and passed on peacefully in their favourite drinking hole of The Actress and bishop.

Even in these days of great advancements in medical science, very little is known about the mysterious degenerative disease of TR. It is still not known the what the exact cause is, though many speculative theories exist. Some believe the disease can be passed from playing bills with lesser bands. Bodily contact as brief as the shaking of a hand or kissing of an arse, or simply borrowing a bass amp off an TR carrying band could be enough to infect a previously healthy band with the TR parasite. Others believe that the disease exists in un-sanitary conditions, a band wallowing in the filth of exactly the same 9 songs for a year or two would provide an environment in which TR could thrive to endemic proportions. More worryling still as paranoia about the side-effects of wi-fi grows, some speculate that a fuckwit of a band member being permenantly plugged in to one of those twatish bluetooth earpeices 24 / 7 could in fact be the cause. Research continues.

An autopsy showed The Klopeks to have contracted TR somewhere in the summer of 2006 though at this stage it is impossible to state the exact cause. Some suspect Jonny to have contracted a mild form of TR whilst visiting orphans in Africa, some suspect Davey to have picked up the parasite as a prize in a poker tournament, some say the disease had lived un-noticed for years in Hairy Kris's hairy cleft, though it is more likely that the disease was introduced to the band through loveable ex-Klopek Pie's rubbish valve trombone that he bought off EBAY for  a couple of quid and had imported from some third world country where rubbish bands are rife. Possibly Canada. Since then the disease gestated and it's tell-tale symptoms became more and more prominent. The natural immune system of the band which in some rare cases could repel the infection was greatly weakend by having to struggle to re-learn and play exactly the same set again, only not nearly as well. The death of beloved van Ghengis Khunt was also a huge blow to moral.


Either way, The Klopeks slipped from this world without fuss. There will be no funeral as we were not a religious band. The memory will be merely pushed out onto the Bimingham - Fazley canal aflame not unlike the burial of a mighty Viking warrior.

As for the band members, their fates are yet to be decided.
So far, all we know in these darker days is:

Jonny is leaving for Mexico to teach gentleman's English to the Mayans and kick the fuck out of anyone found to be using text speak before leading the Mexican invasion of the US.

Gi will no doubt continue to make wonderful electro pop as his alter ego of Wyrd Psyence and is planning to re introduce a communist system of ideals to the survivors of some fast approaching cataclysm.

Hairy Kris is plotting something. Rumour has it that  he is planning on becoming an ice warrior though none of us are as yet sure of what this involves but we imagine it will involve hand-to-hand combat with polar bears and weeing up igloos.

Kranz is off in search of Jew gold and other treasures misplaced during the final days of the second world war. We also wish him and Ellen all the best in their engaged to be married status.

Ellen is probably locked in the boot of Kranz's new car.

Davey is continuing to lead a jet setting lifestyle of cocktaiils and international poker tournaments against dictators and Bond villains interspersed with days at the cricket.

Rob's just finished installing a kitchen and is off to ride his bike up the north face of everest. We hope he makes it back in time for tea which tonight is fishfingers and spaghetti hoops with mighty white bread and a glass of panda pop.

David Brent is probably on the phone.



So what of the unrecorded songs I hear you not asking?
True, there was a whole albums worth of material.
I intend to still make this album at some point. For those of you wishing to hear snippets of this, please direct your browsers to my new project  / Klopeks spin off:

"THE BLACK MARKETEERS OF WORLD WAR THREE."
(It promises to be a bit like Joey / The green green grass of home.)


So thank you all, and good night.
Sweet dreams.








...and then, the silence began...