Thrills, Spills and Green Around the Gills

Today I was amazed. I had to check the calendar for two reasons. First that it was not April 1st: the projected ultimate release date of Green Around the Gills. And second, that it was not April 1st: some kind of trickery afoot. Because you see, GATG has snuck out onto digital sale slightly early. I say this, but the finest record label in all of Goruguay, (Oran Mór) is also eleven-time winner of Corporation of the Year in the Goruguayan publication "Slackulence Today". I remember recording this music approximately seven years ago..! Not quite a Chinese Democracy, but who cares about that? GATG is actually an awesome record! Chinese Democracy is an exercise in aural shaftage. Better late (or early?) than never. Click the button to infect your MP3 player with aquatic pestilence.

Jack the Slipper

I first met Jack "the Slipper" O'dour five years before his career really took off. Before he was to be known as the "Sole Destroyer", Jack strove to manufacture the highest quality of shoe you could wish for in all of Gorway. He was an excellent fellow and academic, having studied carp-entry at the University of Fistanbul in North Goruguay to Masters level and completed his doctorate industrially for Clarks (in association with the prestigious Flamebridge University).
Prior to his mental breakdown, Jack made me some very special custom pieces of footwear known as the "enhanced hooves". Essentially made from a pure Gore-tex upper, with soles constructed from a patented synthetic that is hard enough to crush rocks yet light enough to gallop away quickly in. Also the laces are made from fibres used to hang my Great Great Uncle Shirehorse Splatterhouse who weighed close to 3 tons. Rest his soul. His terrible deeds are for another day to share.
Over this time Jack was also creating bulletproof fins, invisible flipper and started work on his notorious "Flip-Flip" - so named motivationally to denounce "flop" or failure.
Jack was fast becoming a pioneer in footwear development. He set up his infamous workshop back home in wintry Gorway and began conducting experiments using rats and mice with unequally sized feet. Embittered by the bureaucratic process of proceeding to human clinical trials, Jack bypassed the law and sadly found himself struck off the Carp-enters register. This was a very serious criminal offence and a promising career came crashing to an end.
His desire for perfection and pioneerage combined with the people who stood in his way switched on an opinionated and violent gene inherited from his Grandfather- Allied war hero "Trenchfoot" Terrence O'dour. His exploits are poetically explained by the lyrical genius Field Marshal Fist in the Let 'Em Burn Song "Trenchfoot Terrence". Google that one.
Back to the tale. As you can see, Jack was a British-Gorwegian and thereby suffered substantial racial discriminance through his schooling and work. He also felt deliberately obstructed by a racist Gorwegian government. Added to this a string of failed relationships, repossession of his workshop and the theft of his miniature Schnauzer "Barrack", Jack was pushed over the edge and used his once noble skills to construct malicious and most murderous footwear.
It is not known exactly how many people Jack has slain in his racially directed fight against racism. However from the known survivors, it has been recorded that Jack initially brutally beats his victims with shoes or boots - earning his title of "Sole Destroyer", before giving unique subsequent attacks on his foes. These range from puncturings with stiletto heels, to heavy handed cloggings. To end however, and it all cases, Jack tries to cut the throat of his enemies with a very sharp flipper. On death he will carve the words "One Size Slits All" on their chest, with a bloodied arrow pointing to the killing cut. Incidentally the flipper is a size 8.5.
Jack "The Slipper" O'dour is still at large.

Five Years On in Goruguay

Dear Gorugese-speaking of the world today. It has been a fast five years since my last correspondence. I would apologise if I meant it. It seems like only a few hours ago when I last poisoned your minds with my exhilarating words of truth. Of course in the grand scheme of things and the existence of the universe, it was only a blink ago. Challenge me God-botherer. My creAsianistic philosophy will blow your mind into pulped-up beads of beige. I gave a seminar on this at Fistanbul University two summers ago. Guests included the highest order of religious extremists of Goruguay, who brought their imaginary friends to smell my chosen fragrance of the occasion "L'odore de Blasphemer" (pour homme). I atomised it over myself thickly following my shower and shave. The culmination of the seminar was not the beige-beadery of the invited guest minds, but response of my show-closing revelation that pulped-up the exploded beads from the imaginary friends. Subsequently they stopped believing in themselves. Their followers followed suit and a downward spiral of self esteem brought about spikes of depression and deconstructed any forms of imagination and enthusiasm. As the divine stopped believing in themselves, they took new lives living off benefits and selling copies of The Big Issue until their unfortunate suicides that nobody paid attention to.
Unfortunate unfortunate unfortunate.
Especially now. You see I was never an Atheist. I had simply been watching A Nightmare on Elm Street and wanted to see if the notions of belief and fear could be applied to Gorugese faiths.
I became more powerful than all the Gods of Goruguay for those few moments. New and bigger house, promotions at work right to the top, the cruelest of foods were all mine.
I had the answers it seemed. But despite playing along and indoctrinating the social standings of the nations, it was just something to do.
You will probably meet with some confusion in the comprehension of my stance on religious belief from reading today's blog. But its quite simple.
I did kill the divine of Goruguay. But in the struggling morals of today's youth a new discipline was required to bring order and shape to the future of face-moulding.
Thereby I completed the circle with propaganda that convincingly blamed a mentally disturbed member of the atavistic Philpotts tribe for everything bad that had happened. His persecution brought about martyrdom to the gods of old and The Big Issue magazines from what became known as the "Homeless Gods" era became religious literature.
The populace of the Goruguayan nations were deeply unhappy at the cause and ideas of their divinities living in bins and cast the mentally disturbed one out of Goruguay forever.
But now faith is at an all time high and is the root of current social disturbances throughout the crimson lands.
The government of each Goruguayan country has been democratically elected- with the exception of Carcossia, (it is traditionally backward). However the surge in religious attuning has developed a popular desire to destroy the peoples' choice and give it back to the will of the higher powers. This is the crux of the revolutions. Except in Carcossia, where no doubt they will struggle for democracy soon.
Goruguay popularly believes the divine will rise again to punish the people who ignore Big Issue salespeople.
So its essentially my doing. Puppet master of Goruguay? The strings are cut now though. I am without criminal charge and without worry of any Jihaddock threat. But I have no control over the future of these beautifully strange countries.
I do have a plan of divine reanimation. But it will of course require some heavy esteem counselling. But that will have to wait. There is much more importance at hand, such as composing songs for my Reptiles of Disfigurement.
I love Goruguay. But I shan't be fighting for it on this occasion. But if any insurgents are reading, I do a special deal on old Soviet weapons!

Hail Goruguay. Dark times and light.