Egg complains about the heat and stands up to remove 17 jackets and 25 jumpers. I’m not surprised he’s hot, I tell him – look at all the layers he’s wearing…
“I don’t like the cold though – I feel the cold really bad.”
Loo: “Is that because you’re Egyptian?”
Egg: “Yeah. But I do, and then the thing that fucks me off in the winter is that you go indoors and you get really hot, so you can’t win.”
Loo: “Is it because I is mummified?”
Egg: “Well it could well be, y’know. I should be mummified. Have you got another question?”
Actually, I have, I tell him. I want to know more about these rumours I’ve heard of some new GLC releases that are reportedly on their way. What’s going on?
Egg: “Yeah, there’s some records. We’ve got loads of dribbling like jizz from a bell end.”
Rhys: “Basically there’s this place in CENSORED Road in Cardiff which can do you BLEEP CDRs for CENSORED quid. I’d rather you didn’t print that actually.”
Egg: “It’s a good deal.”
Rhys: “It is a good deal.”
Egg: “If too many people find out about it they’ll all be…”
Rhys: “To be honest it’s £LALA.95, which is even better.”
Egg: “Which is 5 pence under LALA quid.”
Rhys: “So we figured that if we buy these, that effectively means that each CD comes in at about…”
Egg: “BLEEP pence?”
Rhys: “Actually a little bit over. BLEEP-point-twenty-five pence. Because the thing is you have to buy the little sleeves that they go in. So we can probably get them done for about WHEEEEE pence. If we sit there, you and me, we can write the labels, write on them what it is, and get it done in about two weeks.”
Egg: “It’ll be a limited release. We can’t do it ‘til early next year though really.”
Rhys: “Eggy’s gonna pass his driving test so we’re gonna go round the country, going to every independent record store and service station.”
How much of this is not printable? Just the price?
Egg: “Just the price and where we get the CDs from.”
Rhys: “You can put that we know a place in Cardiff where we can get them, but don’t say the address or the price. Because that’s like saying, for instance, you go into a pub and them saying ‘we buy our lager in for this much, and sell it to you for this much’ and then you feel ripped off and don’t want to buy it.”
Egg: “We’ve got some good fun songs, and these good fun songs will go on these CDs.”
Rhys: “If we can’t get… because sometimes you go to these places… We went to the services on the way to London and we said we wanted to sell some stuff there before but they wouldn’t, so we’ll just sellotape them to the front of newspapers.”
Egg: “Bibs who controls the forum, he’s heard some of the good fun songs and he’s not leaking any of it out, but he had a good time listening to them, so I think you just have to keep an eye on the site.”
The interview is put on hold for a few moments while I laugh uncontrollably at the mental image I have of the boys going round service stations sticking CDs to newspapers.
Egg is indignant: “It’s what Prince did!”
Rhys: “If you get there early enough in the morning… well, you’ve got two choices, either early in the morning or when it’s really busy.”
Which newspapers do you stick the CDs to?
Rhys: “Daily Mail… all of them really.”
Are Daily Mail readers really your target audience?
Rhys: “Anything except the Financial Times.”
Egg: “Daily Mail, Daily Record, South Wales Argus…”
Rhys: “Hopefully there’ll be something available in February and something available after April, but obviously we have to split up in April for tax purposes, and then we reform on April 6th. It’s the way of the world now. You know when you get a tax rebate if you wind your company up? So we’re breaking up as the GLC then we’re starting up as the CLG and then next year we’ll go back to the GLC. But that’s only on paper – we’ll still be known as the GLC. And then the other album will come out after that as well.”
Egg tells us that he’s had an upset stomach for the past four days. “My dumps are a bit runny, but I’m not really ill or anything.”
Diarrhoea is not that terrible really though, I suggest; I always find that bum sex is better when you’ve had the runs. It’s a bit cleaner.
Egg: “I dunno, I’ve never had bum sex.”
You don’t know what you’re missing.
Egg: “I’ll try tonight with Adam, perhaps.”
Rhys: “Just lube Adam up with a bit of diarrhoea…”
Egg: “Ugh, imagine it. Oh God.”
Rhys: “Shit on Adam’s face with your diarrhoea and then have bum sex with him.”
Egg: “As he’s choking on Castrol GTX. Horrible. Anyway, have you got another good question for us now?”
Rhys: “One that doesn’t involve bum sex?”
Not so much a question, but you know that invention Rhys has got, the Shitbag 2000? They actually sell something similar in Tesco. Seriously.
Rhys: “They give something away very similar, you mean.”
No, they sell it. You know in Bangor there’s a gigantic Tesco? I’ve not seen them recently but a few months ago they had these special plastic bag things for shitting in when you’re on the road.
Rhys: “The first thing is, the reason you haven’t seen them on the shelves lately is because they’ve been pulled off because we’ve got patent pending, so they all had to come down. The second thing is, they do give something away very similar, because what we do is, the Tesco carrier bag has got the little holes in the bottom to stop you breathing [we think he means suffocating]. We realised this after trying to apply to go on Dragon’s Den. All it is, all we’re actually offering you is the idea of what to do rather than actually… so we can’t sell you the idea of shitting in a plastic bag, but you can get a plastic bag anywhere you want and shit in it. It’s all about how you use it. The answer is to hold it like that” – he demonstrates – “but the second answer is to have a smaller bag sellotaped to the front because you can’t hold the liquid and shit at the same time, especially if you’re really desperate.”
Do you put your legs in the handles?
Rhys: “No, just hold it like that, it works a treat. When you hear the weight and it fills up, you tie it up and chuck it off the top of a car park. Or you just chuck it at a wall. Or better still, if you’re driving down a motorway, it goes on a lorry or something.”
Returning to the subject of the website, on Rhys’ profile page it says that he hates David Bowie. Why’s that?
Rhys: “David Bowie’s rubbish. Him and Sting, they can kiss my arse and fuck off while they’re doing it, as far as I’m concerned. I can imagine them having a fight with Jimmy Nail and Jimmy going” – he does an impressive Geordie accent – “‘why aye, come ‘ere like, I’ll fuckin’ ‘ave yer, yer bastards’. And then Jimmy Nail busts him up. ‘Cos Sting thinks he’s American” – he sings – “‘I’m an Englishman in New Yo-ork…’ – fuck off, prick… fuck off to New York then, prick!”
Is this a fantasy of yours, then? Them being beaten up by Jimmy Nail?
Rhys warms to his theme and becomes very animated. “I’d get Quentin Tarantino to make a film, it’d be like a western and there’d be a lot of whistling, like this” – he whistles a western-style tune – “and you’d see a lot of people from that aspect down” – he demonstrates – “and in the distance there’d be two people; one of them would probably have big things on them, like big hair and a cape, and the other one would just be there going ‘why aye I don’t believe it, I don’t even sound like I’m from Newcastle no more’ and then Jimmy Nail would turn up, he’d probably have a leather jacket, and there’d be like a stand-off, and Jimmy Nail would… y’know, not a lot of dialogue, just looking, and then at the end they’d shoot each other and they’d die and Jimmy Nail would probably win, and they’d be fighting over a piece of gold, a box of gold, and just as he did that and they died, a puff of smoke would go up in the air and he’d go to pick the gold up, and just as he did this” – he demonstrates – “you’d see the aspect from there and you’d see two more people in the distance and they’d be there with guns, like” – he whistles again – “and it would begin again. And it could go on forever. And every time they beat the other person, it’d be like” – he whistles again. “This is a dream that I have.”
Loo: “It’d be lovely if Mick Hucknall was caught in the crossfire.”
Rhys: “Halfway through for instance, Hucknall turns up in an ice cream van and goes ‘why aye, I’m not even from Newcastle but I’m stuck on the accent now, I’ve got some ice creams for you’ and they’d just shoot him. And then they’d get his body out… no…”
Loo: “They lift his ruby tooth out with a penknife.”
I don’t know why you’re not in film making, I tell Rhys. It’s a wasted talent. You’ve obviously thought a great deal about it.
Getting back to the GLC, who puts your music together? You all obviously rap, but who does the musical bits?
Rhys: “We had a guy from Bristol that we employed for a while, what was his name? Andre? And he was a 56 year old guy, it was brilliant, he’s got a little house, you go in there, all these kids are running round…”
Egg: “Tiny little place, there’s all these grandchildren – it’s lovely isn’t it?”
Rhys: “It’s brilliant, ‘cos he starts off by just playing it all on the piano, and then he comes back to you – ‘cos he goes off and orchestrates it all and you think ‘that’s never gonna sound any good’ – and he comes back a couple of weeks later with a tape that he’s recorded in the studio, and it sounds amazing.”
Egg: “He’s got marvellous stories. His wife, who’s dead now, was called Delia Derbyshire and she wrote the music to Dr Who. She used to work for the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. Marvellous man, he tells us all these stories about her, but she’s dead.”
Rhys: “They were doing a hedge and there was a bizarre chainsaw accident. She was cutting on the other side, he was cutting on that side, and they didn’t know.”
Egg: “It’s terrible when he starts crying, he misses her terribly, but what can you say? I’ve never lost someone in that way so I can’t…”
Rhys: “The type of hedge that it was, there’s not many of them left, so he wanted to try and get that breed of hedge named after her, the Derbyshire. It never happened.”
Eggs, it says on your profile that you enjoy dressing up like a TV detective in your spare time. Do you have any favourites?
Egg: “Anyone will do.”
Hetty Wainthrop? Angela Lansbury?
Egg: “I can’t really get the clothes for that. John Nettles as Bergerac, that’s a good one.”
Rhys: “When you get the boat” – Egg claims that he’s trying to buy Simon Le Bon’s yacht, Drum – “you can dress up as Quincy, ‘cos he lived on a boat.”
Egg: “Quincy lived on a boat, yes. So I can get a boat and dress up like Quincy. He was a chief medical coroner, wasn’t he?”
Rhys: “Imagine a superhero called Medical Man, right, and his superpowers are that he can perform medical operations on people and fix them up.”
Loo: “He’s a surgeon? A supersurgeon?”
Rhys: “Well I dunno, calling him a surgeon might belittle him. Medical Man is better.”
Loo: “Would he have scalpels for fingers?”
Rhys: “No, he’d have a bag of scalpels or how would he scratch his face? That’d be ridiculous.”
Egg: “It’d be horrible wouldn’t it?”
Rhys: “He goes to scratch and forgets and goes ‘Oh no, I need another medical person to fix me up!’ ‘Cos you’ve gotta have two hands to do stitches and stuff, you can’t hold something with a scalpel and some forceps.”
Egg: “Nah, it wouldn’t work.”
Rhys: “Imagine a cartoon like that. After I’ve done the film I might do a cartoon called Medical Man. Who’s the dude who did Sin City? Richard Rodriguez?”
Robert Rodriguez?
Rhys: “Him as well, yeah. Get him to do it. Sin City, Medical Man. It’ll be gritty drama shot in black and white but maybe with a splattering of red. He could be in a hospital, but it won’t be a full time hospital; it’ll be like up in Merthyr Tydfil, they have these practitioners, like a clinic thing where people come in and talk about their sex problems. You know, they think they’re pregnant and they’re not even women. That’d be cool.”
Egg: “Use one of those… what are those things you file your nails with?”
Emery boards?
Egg: “Emery boards. You go to the doctor and he does it round the head of your phallus to clean it up.”
I haven’t got one but I’m cringing at the thought of it.
Egg: “You must’ve seen one, at least in a magazine.”
What, a cock? Yeah of course I have.
Egg: “Then you can imagine. You’ve probably got an emery board at home.”
Rhys: “I remember when I was young in about ‘85, they did that, they got Dick Pertwee or whatever his name was and they got the emery board and went round the top of his cock on Blue Peter, to show the kids what they can do.”
Egg: “And then the cat licks it.”
Rhys: “You know Pudsey, off that TV show?”
The one you did last night? Children in Need?
Rhys: “No you bell, that’s Pudsey! Happy Days, Putzy. Cos a putz apparently is when you cut the skin off and remove it, that’s called a putz, and that’s why he was called Putzy, because he cut the skin off his dick. I guess if he was in England you’d call him Foreskinny.”
Chris Moyles is named after the bloke that does the cutting though, isn’t he? In Jewish culture the man that does the snip is called the mohel (pronounced ‘moyle’), then you’ve got the briss which is the ceremony around the cutting of the foreskin. Ahaha, Briss Moyles - that would be brilliant wouldn’t it? Look it up on your internets.
Mike would apparently have joined us today, if he hadn’t been taking his girlfriend up in a hot air balloon in Bristol. Makes me wonder though – isn’t it hard work being the wife or girlfriend of one of you lot?
Rhys: “Or husband.”
What do you mean? Are any of you gay then?
Egg: “I’m not gay.”
Loo: “We didn’t say you were…”
Egg: “I’m not gay, God no.”
Rhys: “Mysty always used to talk to men.”
Egg: “For some reason Mysty was probably likely to be the gay one, but he somehow seems to be having sex now, with a woman, so well done to him.”
Rhys: “She’s got more testosterone than he has. She does Chinese burns on his cock. He went off the top ropes with her and there was terrible bruising at one point, his balls went black. He had a stick tied at one end with elastic bands round it.”
Egg: “Jumped off a wardrobe on top of him she did, it was horrible. It made a muffled popping sound as it snapped. That’s what’s horrible about it.”
So – when these new releases come out, will you be touring them?
Rhys: “I’d like to do some dates in February but that’s next year so we probably won’t get them together until six weeks before. We’re gonna have a break for Christmas and probably won’t start again until after Christmas time.”
Egg: “But something will happen.”
Something in North Wales, please!
Egg: “North Wales is always fun. Look at this:” – he does a comical Gog accent – “‘My friend was raped by a alien!’ That’s what they say in North Wales. ‘My friend was raped by a alien!’”
Yep, we say that allllll the time…
Here’s hoping Goldie Lookin Chain do indeed get a tour sorted out soon. In the meantime, you can keep up with the latest GLC news by visiting www.youknowsit.co.uk or by joining the band’s vast list of friends at one of the very many GLC MySpace pages (there were at least eight of them at the last count) - www.myspace.com/goldielookinchain is a good place to start. Or go chat with the lovely nutty folks at the GLC forum, without whom this interview wouldn't have happened... warm welcome guaranteed.
Goldie Lookin Chain: such marketing geniuses, they make Deborah Meaden look shit. You fucking knows it.
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