LONDON - ON THE ROAD WITH FUCKED UP

Fucked Up once broke UK editor Andy Capper's heart by signing to Matador Records instead of Vice. Since then though, Capper has rekindled his love for the guys, and they let him go on tour with them sometimes, like a mascot, a groupie, or a really lucky fan who won a competition on the internet. He's going to be the one writing from here on out so we're going to let him spell his words funny, the way Brits like to do.

LONDON - LIFE OF PAIN

Hello. My name is James Knight. When I am not sticking things in my ass or drinking my insides rotten in a professional capacity, I am pretty adept at getting myself hurt, injured, and generally pained in my own time. Those with good memories may remember that time I snapped my ankle at a Fucked Up show. Or that other time when I fell off my bike and my face looked like one of those sex dolls that lonely guys grease up and fuck all night. Well, this last month has been a doozy for accidents, mishaps and minor bodily harm.

DAVID SHAYLER, RELUCTANT MESSIAH PART TWO: AT HOME S/HE FEELS LIKE A TOURIST

After Mr. Son of God himself, David Shayler, had been so accommodating in letting me spend an evening in his squat with his friends, it seemed only fair that I return the hospitality. So a couple of days later I arranged to meet David, or Dolores once the wig is on, to spend a day out in London, soaking in the culture as Vice picked up the tab.

LONDON - DAVID SHAYLER, RELUCTANT MESSIAH (PART ONE)

This is David M. Shayler. The one not on the cross. Shayler used to run the Libya desk of Security Services. He was a spook back then. But his fortunes have since declined. These days he's just the son of God. The revelation that he was the Messiah, the Chosen One, J*h*v*h, was, he says, one that caused him to literally fall to his knees, overwhelming him with bliss that was “beyond any sexual or physical experience.” As you might imagine. In many ways he's a reluctant deity. “I never chose to be the Messiah,” he insists. “It's quite an embarrassing thing, actually. I kept asking myself, why me? But I can't ignore the signs...” 

LONDON - WHO WANTS TO BE A UK CITIZEN?

Sometimes bureaucrats come across as silly pen pushers whose work has no relation to any reality beyond the spider chart on their wall. And no more so than right now. You see, recent legislation states that if anyone beyond these green and pleasant lands wants to apply for indefinite leave to remain in the UK, they'll have to take a "Life in the UK" test. I thought it would just be a case of naming all the people who’ve had sex on Big Brother and maybe doing the Angela Rippon dance from the Morecambe and Wise Christmas special. But oh no. The test is impossible. It’s ridiculous. I failed it. Twice. Before you all set your bulldogs on me and start yawning on about "floodgates" and "scroungers" and "rivers of Garam Masala," see if you can answer some of the following.

BOLLOCKS TO THE HIPPOCRATIC OATH - DON'T GET SICK IN LONDON THIS WEEK

A word of warning if you’re in Britain this week: Do NOT fall gravely ill or almost die from some sort of massive trauma on or immediately following this Wednesday. That’s the official NHS changeover day, aka “first day of hospital” for the UK’s new crop of fresh-faced doctors. While they may not in fact kill you, it is entirely likely that your simple concussion or sliced finger or plague sores (PS: good one, Chinese village) will lead you into a sequence of events that culminate in my dad forwarding me an email with the subject line “Bedpan’s Revenge?” Here’s Vice UK’s resident physician, Dr. Mona Moore, with more on this horrifying annual occurrence.

LONDON - JASPER JOFFE'S LIFE OF JIZZ

This is Jasper Joffe. He's very high here. High on hubris. High on being Jasper Joffe. As if the Britart "me, me, me" generation hadn't gone far enough – as if Tracey Emin sketching herself masturbating (how did she hold the pencil steady?) wasn't onanistic enough to put you off your copy of Art Now – Jasper Joffe has recently also concluded that l'art c'est moi. The man who painted Himmler in lush pastels is spending the rest of this week flogging all his possessions at the Shoreditch gallery. Childhood photos, big fuck-off TVs, love letters, toothbrushes, racist dolls – they've all have been divided into 33 lots, priced at £3333.33 apiece. Nice work, Jasper. He is doing this, he says, for two reasons. Reason one: he's 33. Jesus had been there, done that, and got crucified by that point. It's a pretty high peg to measure up to, he says. (Didn't tell him about Alexander the Great conquering the known world by 24.) Reason two: his girlfriend recently split up with him. So there's a certain amount of self-flagellation going on here.

LONDON - I HOPE YOU DIE SOON

 

London College of Fashion graduates Fanny and Jessy have a studio behind Shoreditch House, the worst place in the world. Their debut unisex collection is optimistically called I Hope You Die Soon. Clearly they’re taking inspiration from the psychegeographical surroundings.

LONDON - BOATIN' WITH BOTTIN

William Bottin is one of the finest purveyors of electronic disco around right now. His tracks have a clear Italo influence, and he's actually Italian, which probably means he has more of a right or something. Even Andy Bell from Erasure likes him! We caught up with him for a quick chat. It would've been nice if it actually was on a boat, but it was just Gmail.

LONDON - PRINCESS JULIA'S STYLE COUNSEL PART ONE

If anyone should have a fashion blog, it's Princess Julia. She knows her fashion, how to use it to make a name, how it can change the way you think, and how to read people's style. Julia's been cool since the early 80s, when having an extreme look was an underground thing. Like her friend Boy George, she reinvented herself as a handbag house DJ in the 90s, and again more recently by publishing music zine the P.i.X with Hanna Hanra.