Builders Crack

Music:

Member Since: 5/14/2006
Band Members: Paul Hill (voice, words) Dylan Bates (voice, violin, xaphoon...) Patrick Conway (piano, voice)
Influences: When you wake up where were you? Delete memory. At the cashpoint. Cardboard. When my father put on the gasmask his face would disappear. This was not my father this was not a human being at all. Open the body up you find a little wrinkled old man with a white beard & blind eyes no larger than a dog he can talk through an inner voice only you can hear but he wants to be able to see, to hear, to move about your reality will no longer do.- Darlings, will you let me fucking well out of here! oh ohBoth. In me. Outside me. You develop severe swallowing difficulties. You run a fried chicken shop and youre made the supreme ruler of an entire galaxy. Running down the shopping aisle- Hello Darlings. My name is Joan Henrietta Collins I was born in 1923. I made an appearance in Star Trek in the 60s. I joined the UK Independence Party in 2004. Buy 3 Heritage chicken fillets for £5. WOW! oh darlings ohwhere any moment the floor might open up & you might be cancelled out. Your wife and children could leave you & you could be sitting alone in your empty bedsit with nothing to live for and on top of that the Martians could bore through the roof and get you! Its not when everyones against you, its when everythings against you. Your boss isnt against you, your bosses phone is plotting against you. The condom machine explodes into bits, you can see right through the space beyond it. The condom machine went out of existence. In its place was a slip of paper, it said CONDOM MACHINE. Dylan walked into the bathroom reaching for a light cord that wasnt there & never had been there, the light was operated by a light-switch all the time. Coleridge sitting alone hallucinating Kubla Khan is interrupted by a knock at the door, someone asking the way to Porlock. Every event is different the opposite might always happen. The gates to the docks, huge ocean liner, kids playing ball in the street that ends at the dock gates. They arrange for two adults to pose as parents. The doorknobs are going to kill him. The best way is to take away all their enemies. No enemies = total doubt.snakecharmers music practice the Indian rope trick**************snake charmers pipe practicing the Indian rope trickThe Indian Rope Trick The rope rises into the air and the boy climbs up it. The boy gradually disappears. The man climbs up the rope with a sword in his mouth. He disappears too and suddenly the boys arms and legs fall from the sky and lie bleeding on the groundBuilders Crack are shut in a fridge. Instead of being cold the fridge is hot. Very hot. We have less than 20 minutes to live. Builders Crack are serving a life sentence in Black Iron Prison. To everyone else in the Rochester Castle things seem normal. But not really. Really were stark naked in glaring fluorescent light scorched in the heat. Trapped in a Zanussi fridge we found on the street - we lugged her back & plugged her in. But she didnt cool down, she warmed up and so we got in her to find out what was wrong but then the door snapped shut and through her whine we can hear Joan Collins auditioning to play Hitlers mistress Eva Braun -- Velcome to Black Iron Prison you boys. Heil Hitler! Take your trousers off now darlinks. Now Now Now!Black Iron Prison. Philip K Dicks term for the demiurgic worldly forces of political tyranny and oppressive social control. Builders Crack stuffed in there cowering, the only way out is if our thoughts can coincide exactly, instantaneously We must produce 1 single perfect copy of a thought, but that copy of a thought must be unique, an original. It cant be just- Darlings, fucking well let me out of here!no, it must contain a complete Proustian insurge of memory, firing neurologically back in time from the Super Value Princes Tuna Chunks you just bought, to the little boy accidentally coming in on a writhing tangle of bare bodies in his parents bedroom. Its got to rush forwards a manifestation of wish fulfillment, the subconscious repetition of a past experience but this time with a system that knows neither wars, exploitation, money, classes, states nor nations. Zap! Rip-roaring direct contact. A sneak peak into a past life AND a sneak peak into the future. Familiarity without awareness. Oscillations between the long & short term memory circuits. Like living in a sitcom -- Hi Darlinks. Im Joan Collins, and every night at the start of this sitcom you gonna wake up astride my brutally butchered corpse. yes you are darlings, ohIts not bamboo its a rope. And the boys not up there, you just think he is, hes still on the groundOr put the lady in a large coffin-shaped box and saw her in half.- oh dear dear me that hurts darlings oh yes it does! Today I visited Costcutters darlincks. Wow! Unbeatable value darlincks! Fantastic savings on your favourite groceries! oh my belly hurts darlinksComputer on. TV on. Radio on. A shared lounge. The family are all in there. But they all have dog-heads. A DVD is projected over the back garden which is a white sheet of paper. Over this is a vocal narrative of a woman sighing in the throes of agony or ecstasy we cant tell which. We strain to make out if shes happier than shes ever been or is being tortured. Builders Crack are either peeping toms or the only people in the world that can save herTachyons that can travel back in time. Whap! The tiniest, faintest glimpse into a past life or just an error in the timing of the perceptive and cognitive processes. Do you dare to see more than whats usually hidden? The dark frolic of neurons and the ghost thats called ego. A man sees a snake & realises its only a piece of rope.- oh darling do you like my shiny nose? There are payment imbalances are there not darlings? oh yes there areThe stiff rope was supported from beneath the ground by helpers secretly concealed in a cleverly constructed pit. The electrical charge - insight through a keyhole, the capacity for complete surrender, the total discharge of all damned-up sexual excitation.- oh darling give it to me, give me your consumer credit now! Put me in your memory banks! Incorporate me darling, you cannot resist. You know you want to. oh oh now darling now now nowIt all started when Dylan was given an eternity suit as a present for Jashwosh. When he put it on, suddenly there was no past, present or future - just pure ontological being. It allows him to remove things and put them somewhere else without anyone noticing. He stuffed Elton Johns right arm into the middle of Patricks back. I found TV chat-show host Tony Blairs defective left eye, squinting on the end of my penis and hes put two of Joan Collins scarred & bloody discarded botoxed mouths on the palms of his hands.
Sounds Like: - 100% extra free darlinkbuy one get one freeany 2 for £1.20oh ohIts February 1974, and Philip K. Dicks in pain. Hes just had an impacted wisdom tooth removed, and the sodium pentathols wearing off. A delivery woman arrives with a package and when he opens the door, hes struck by the beauty of this dark-haired woman. Hes drawn to her golden necklace, and he asks her about its curious fish-shaped design.- Oh Darling, this was a sign used by the early Christians oh yes it wasshe said, and then left. Following this event, Dick experienced a series of visions, hallucinations, and dreams, many of which centered around VALIS, a "Vast Active Living Intelligence System".- Hi darlinks. Im Joan Collins. Youre through to the Friedrich Nietzsche hotline. Today Cajun curly fries are half-price a bargain at 89p. oh ohwringing a Costcutter teabag once, twice and the third time the bag breaks depositing its sickly leaves over the outside edge of my thumb, merging with a lick of milkwe look round one room, two rooms, the third detonates, BANG! caving in her chest, a frutescent arm protrudes budding like spring, speaking like Joan Collins through the palm of its hand.- Or why not try Heritage straight cut oven chips? Our price? 49p! oh darlings ohThey surrounded themselves with fake clouds, stuffed rags stained with animal blood fell from the sky. Or how a fish can activate the painted birds inside us, like a swan above a green door, a piece of wood you put your hand on before you ring the bell, we used to talk in music, she reaches up to open the window her bare armpits singing, her mouth is wobbling- Oh darlings, UK transplant patients go to China for organs from executed prisoners! oh yes they dothe air the perfumed air she made seeps in through the crack in the window. What happens is you pull the cover right over like a sleeping bag in a tent and then youre encased like a mummy. Lenin died on the 21st January 1924, on the 26th , Stalin made a speech next to Lenin laid out, mummified. Joan Collins plays Uncle Jo Stalin.- Oh Darlinks! We, the communists are people of a special make. We are made of a special material. The Communist body does not decay! oh no it doesnt darlingsAll the people youve ever met disappear overnight on a national express coach she smiles and kisses me the dog is driving/ the same dog is up and down the aisles selling pies to the happy punters drinking cider and singing songs on a day out never to return/ you dont see them again because you dont know theyve gone theyre still here but youve never met them before theyre strangers/stranglers/bodysnatchers they meet up discussing you every week and in that time youve fought an intergalactic round table discussion on Turkish TV above the 24 hour TurkO shop/ she flicks back her hair and it gets stuck behind her ear it wont ever get loose eventually they have to surgically extract each follicle replacing every one with an exact replica things can then go on as if nothing has happened/ the hand however is stuck firmly up the nose the effort to open the aperture has back-fired/ the woman walks past the dog sitting in the driving seat and smiles a beautiful radiant day of a smile the dogs pink erection appears over the dashboard and she smiles she smiles/ shes wearing a pink plastic sheet the jealous swan makes a bee-line for her from above the green door pinning her down against the pavement pinion entering her blossom/ the moans mingle with the water pipes mumbling/ the shrieks are of electricity/ they replaced the Victorian water pipes/ her arms up to her elbows in her underwear-drawer/ she moulds the offal around her loins dripping dark bloody menstruating girdle/ a fly flies straight into her ear/ Joan Collins on the telephone the shape of every morning she wakes up182 years old -- yesh-yesh-yesh darlinks shbuy the condominium darlincks with the bucket shpray the house with germoline the shhelloptape must be wrapped up in the bog mans shcrotum for it to work ejaculate over the morning coffee cups if they are washed by Bertie yesh-yesh-yesh-yesh daaarlings oh yesh it mushtThe little boys hiding under the magicians robe as he comes down. The red cars wheels scrunch the gravel and she honks the horn as she reverses in brazen shes wearing a badge on her t-shirt that denotes membership of an important health service cartel whose priorities and aims you can download from the- The internety darlinks! the internety! oh yes you canthe-swor-the sworr-the sworrr-the sworrrr-the sworrrrr-the sworrrrr/ the pill that puts pat in perpetual pink packet she takes out of her tummy and throws up/ the man all in red burps/ her tummy swindles millions/ it was her sleek elbow joint- Im riding a horse darlinks! Joanys riding on a horse!the man opens his gate/ the queens 80 yet still she acts underground with suspenders on shitting into the mouths of her swooning 16 year old courtiers/ theyre enormous erections bobbing into the queens rouged knarled lips/ her empty gin bottles sticking out of theyre rectums her mum and her sister Margaret cryogenically adapted live on down there/ flicking hot ash into the empty gin bottles missing often and staining the young boys white flesh until it turns grey/ night after night- oh darlincks! Missed again! HAW-HAW-HAW-HAW-HAWThe ropes thrown into the air & is invisibly hooked onto a concealed wire. Hes stands outside Kush Housing Association with its mirror windows, he wears a blue sweatshirt and matching blue shorts in all weathers, maybe hes 30 or 35, smoking a can of superstrength, cheeks gone red with it, but its his hair, he constantly pats down his hair at himself in the mirror window, he must maintain at all costs his centre parting, his hair is parceled up on either side of his head like the bicameral mind and if his hair should meet across the parting it would blow his brains up.- Im ver-ver drunk darlings. If only the 2 sides of my brain could come together. WOW! Fireworks! Gammon and spinach! Gammon and fucking spinach darlings!on Friday after seeing a sign on the side of a bus we accessorised our underarms and went to the Rochester at knocking off work time for a pint and promptly met one of the Hackney council CCTV surveillance team relaxing after a long shift. Played by Joan Collins.- Oh Im drunk darlings! I saw you 77 times this afternoon on the high street darlincks, following that bus. I watched you over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over againI was eating a Ginster pasty darling recommended retail price £1.25 reduced to 62p at Costcutters - rubbed the greasy wrapper laced with flakes all over my languid naked body in the office, you quivered darlinck, you quivered, oh yesh you did after that encounter we took to the high street. we knew that if we could find the tipping point, a stage of digital saturation by a Nabokovian device of taking one step forwards, clicking our fingers imitating a sudden change of mind, turning round and proceeding in the opposite direction, taking one step and repeating the process, spinning round & round, (joan/dylan spins) consciousness flip-flopping, sensibilities scrambled, the camera juddering on its stem in permanent jump-cut, the coffee-fueled operator bug-eyed at the prospect of immanent terrorist attack, space invasion, the corrupt bastards at Stoke Newington police station contacted immediately and in a fast car straight off to Stanstead for a long break in the Algarve, maybe never come back, the golfs fucking great over here! this searing image inscribed, uninscribable, a permanent memento mori, flashing up on all internet café screens, screaming, bewildering the good folks of GCHQ in Cheltenham.- Hello darlings. Im Joan Collins and Im a spy. But darlings, Joan cant keep no secrets can she. Joan likes to go on TV dont she. TV TV TV. oh yesh she doesChat show host Tony Blair has lost his left eye! Appearing yesterday for the first time in public, controversially eschewing an eye patch, instead sporting a soiled prophylactic dangling from his eye socket. Blair interviewed Joan Collins on his day-time show seemingly unperturbed. Visibly shocked, Ms Collins struggled to cope with Blairs line of questioning- Joan? - yeees darlinck - Joan? - huh-huh - Joan? - go on darling - Look Joan?...where have you put it? - Put what darling? - My eye. - I havent seen your eye darling. {pointing to the used condom} - Do you know anything about this Joan?Click. bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Physicists in the Netherlands have managed to make a frog float in mid-air using giant magnetic fields. Joans just purchased 2 tins of American Hot Dogs for 99p from Costcutters (water content 67%). She slips a sausage flopping like a fish whole dropping down, down into a subterranean world, crammed full of millions of people living in underground tanks believing that world war 111 is raging up above & living off American Hot Dogs, existing parasitically in Joan Collins distended belly.- Eat up my darlings, eat up!A monkeys head would strike the ground and bounce bloodily.Builders Crack still trapped in the tropical fridge. What should be cold is hot. Global warming scrunched up and bunged into a discarded Zanussi in which Builders Crack must endure. Or escape. But how? Satellites, cameras swiveling everywhere, how do you plan your escape just before you fall asleep? Do you ever escape? This world hurtling towards immanent, inevitable ecological disaster, escape stories are in short supply. And its got to happen in an instant. Bam! Total transformation a revolution in a moment! the old alienated world revealed and slipping off like a dress to reveal our true, natural selves a revelation!- True fucking love darlings! True fucking love! oh yesh give it to me nowThe electricians turned on the wrong lights and the audience plainly saw the thin wire, attached to the boy. Then the boy climbed up the rope with no trouble.sounds of scrapingWith only 1 minute left its Patrick that saves us -- David Blaine- Who?- David Blaine!- What?- The film The Great Escape. To build the tunnel they collect the sand in their trousers.Mountains of white goods. Forests of domestic appliances. White! Having no hue. White! Counterrevolutionary white, conservative white, royalist white. The White Army! White as midnights arsehole! The White mans burden! Whiter than fucking white!- Whitewash my fucking tonsils darlings ! Come on, Whitewash my kidneys! Scrape darlings! Scrape it all off!Picking, scratching, pulling, bit-by-bit removing a neurotic compulsive disorder instead of pre-adamic purity. Puritys not the answer, youre stuck with what youve got! We set about picking the white enamel off the fridge, ever so slowly stripping the fridge naked, down to glass, an invisible skin, a sheer condom, trylotichomania of the soul. Builders Crack dangling high up above London swinging in a glass house for everyone to judge us! Moral Revolutionary Exhibitionism! Wide-open - shedding all prudency and ethical discretion. A new transparent and self-transparent society revealed in a see-through fridge! Dangling, vulnerable, impractical, suicidalBuilders Crack live in a glass house!The magician actually does kill the boy. Cutting him into pieces was no act the boy had a twin thats why the Indian rope trick was not performed very often.WHOOSH! There goes Joan, theyve given her wings.- Darlinks, darlinks, come down from up there, come down and live in Auntie Joans big belly! Here, have a sausage!sound of snake charmers pipeIn a blur of coordinated kinaesthetic athletic abandon, Patrick over-head kicks the invisible fridge door open, clambers on to the roof and towering magestically above London -Patrick turns round to face audience -- I can hear the sound of the pipe playing. The rope rises to 5 feet, then to 10 feet and finally to 20 feet. And then the boy walks forward against the beautiful setting sun. The boy takes hold of the rope with both hands and slowly begins to climb higher and higher. And when he reaches the top, the boy disappears.THE END
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