Day 43: MY SEX IS SO AMAZING (PART 2)

Click here to see part one.

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From: Davey C pimpin4guns@hotmail.co.uk

Date: Tue, 2 Feb 2010 21:49:41 +0000

To: masante86@gmail.com

Subject: Word up Show!

Hey man whas happenin? Blood where you gon on dat Twitter shit - was tryin find u but u gone man!!

My man DJ JamJahz made dis well bizting vid of yo new track "So AMazing" and peeps were chattin 2u bout it on twitter but you be gone, man...

ANyway\z check out the vid let me know what ya feelin. Sound is whack but dat shit aint how we roll ye fuck that geek shit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNNEd7CFXpI&feature=player_embedded

U still lookin 4 yo leadin lady? Blood u shud check out ma sister she is well bangin-fit for reeal.

Massive respect love yo work keep it real 4 real.

DAVE-E C LONDON CREWE (Massive UK england 4real)

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From:	masante86@gmail.com
Sent:	02 February 2010 21:51:25
To:	Davey C (pimpin4guns@hotmail.co.uk)

Hey send some pics of her bruv.

Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network

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From:	Davey C (pimpin4guns@hotmail.co.uk)
Sent:	10 February 2010 12:24:41
To:	masante86@gmail.com

Yo word up word up Sorry for the slownees on this bruv - i got some snaps and that but want to realtalk that shit with my sisters boyfriend - hes my main man y'no so I want 2 to try get somehin a little drrrrty 4 u to give ya a FULL idea of what we're chattin bout here for real. I aint sayin I would cos she's my sister and yeah but hell man that shit is off the hook!!

Yo yo my main man JamJah wants 2 kno what you think of da video review I sent ya - he works in TV over here in da UK and wnts 2 know if he can get an early copy of yr album for a project he's workin' on - could get your ass involved in some of that BROAAAD-CAST shit you hear?

Let me know bruv could be slick - will get my sis's man to get snappin on that dirty shit.

Peace out show (real talk).

DAVE-EC LONDON CREWE

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From:	Michael Asante (masante86@gmail.com)
Sent:	10 February 2010 15:29:57
To:	Davey C (pimpin4guns@hotmail.co.uk)

Davey,

No worries bruv. I aprpeciate the word you are putting out there for me.

It is much appreciated! We would love to get down with your team and make things happen in the UK. I took a look at the video and I love it.

Give me your infor and I'll give you a call bruv.

Phone #

BlackBerry PIN#

Anything you can give me. We are moving quick with things right now and me and my team are ready to blow.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Appreciate the lvoe and the feedback brother.

Much love.

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From:	Davey C (pimpin4guns@hotmail.co.uk)
Sent:	11 February 2010 22:19:31
To:	masante86@gmail.com
	1 attachment LEGGGS BI...jpg (25.1 KB)

For real bruv - I need to speak to my man JamJahh and 2 get 4 his details and shit 4u so we can HOOK THAT SHIT UP.

HE works on this TV channel called Ideal World and if he can sort it we could be able to get your CD shown on that shit 4real. Need JamJah 2 sort shit out first though man and U might need 2 send some pictures and shit - keepin it real 4 real but not too real coz his boss Ethel aint usual featurin this kind of wicked shit on the show, but 4 U Show we can WORK THAT SHIT OUT cos we got to make Ideal World THE IDEAL WORLD, you feel?

But wait up hold up my little sisters man came up good and I got U a good shot of that ass man - let me know if you into that shit, bruv I know she's my sister and I AINT SAYIN I WOULD, but you KNOW I been thinkin about that shit A LOT.

Gon' speak to JamJah bruv will try 2 hook u up with a number

DAVE-E C (Massive 4Real London)

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Day 42: Being a Girl

Unashamed exhibitionist that I am, in all honesty it's amazing I've never done it before - but this weekend for the first time I dressed up in drag. My girlfriend Emma had a brilliant time painting my face to 'make me pretty', and the universal comedy value of shoving a couple of balloons inside a t-shirt is something anyone can appreciate.

With a black roll-neck jumper, a wig, and some fake glasses, she was going as Andy Warhol. Somewhere along the way I became 'Joyce' - a pretty rough looking thirty-something housewife with a penchant for pottery classes. We set off to a cross-dressing valentines warehouse party called 'Macho Minge' - but it was a few bus journeys away, in Hackney.

At the beginning of the night in particular, the distance to the party seemed vast. As the bus snaked up through South London to Elephant and Castle, I became quite aware that I was the only man on the bus dressed as a woman. I wasn't sure how best to handle this situation, even though I'd had ample time to develop a strategy before leaving the house. Part of me wondered if it might be best to actually pretend to be a woman. I decided that this might end up being a gamble I'd regret however, and realised that there really wasn't any good way of breaching the situation, and instead decided to just stare at the ground in quiet, fearful shame.

Things got better once we left South London however, once we started being surrounded by people who could appreciate the joke. Brilliantly, I'm also pretty damn sure a bunch of pissed polish blokes were genuinely giving me the eye at one point (to be fair, I did have one hell of a rack). Still, after a sustained campaign of blushing, we eventually we got to the party, where things loosened up considerably. It's funny how walking into a room full of bearded men in dresses can have this effect, I'll freely admit.

After spending the night drinking, dancing, and being photographed by questionable men who in retrospect will probably end up doing terrible things with pictures of me, it was time to take my clip-on earrings off and get a taxi home.

Despite the immediately overwhelming sense of "OH GOD MATT WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING I AM TERRIFIED" it ended up being a great party, and a really entertaining chance to play up to stereotypes like silly buggers and pretend to be a girl for the night. I played hard to get, I threw tantrums, I lost my handbag, and was repeatedly touched up by strange men. The defining moment of the night however came at the very end when I was presented with a beautiful home-made valentines card, and - big girl that I'd become - I found it very difficult to stop myself from welling up.

Thank you. You deserve so much better than a slag like me. x

Day 23: GREGGS SIGN DEAL GROUNDBREAKING DEAL WITH RUSSIAN PROSTITUTE ALLIANCE

Honestly: I was just as confused as you are.

Oh, and sadly the headline isn't true. Or if it is, to my knowledge it's not something that's been openly disclosed into the public domain. What you're looking at is the promotional material for what must literally be the most misleading application available on the iPhone:

Tasty Pasties.

Beg my pardon for asking - but where's the fucking bakery, ladies?

A quick spot of googlage leads me to a discovery - 'pasties' (or 'pastys') is also a word that's also used to describe nipple covers, the rights free image on the Wikipedia page suggesting that these are items usually used by women on beaches you are reet keen to get their knockers out, but feel that throwing nipples into the mix might be a bit presumptious. i.e. women I am entirely unable to relate to, but will somehow manage to endure.

I can appreciate that words have multiple meanings, but this is one's a little hard to swallow; primarily because i'll never be able to think about Cornish pasties again without having this mental image scratched into the depths of my consciousness:

Despite having spent ten years living in the north of England, I somehow still can't bring myself to find this arousing. I might just be old-fashioned, but I tend to feel filthy enough as it is just buying stuff from Greggs to begin with. Maybe in later life when things get boring I'll spice up my steak bake purchases by diving into the sordid world of flaky pastry fantasy, but right now it's all a bit much.

Back to the matter at hand however, the Tasty Pasties app describes itself as being 'the most explicit app approved by Apple', which is a bit like someone lending you a DVD on the recommendation that it's 'the hardest porn my dad will let me buy'. Load the beast up, and it's an incredibly well thought out piece of software with two unique options: Blondes, OR, Brunettes. Altogether as a package, I can happily recommend it to anyone who's sexually aroused by bored industrial cleaners with stuff stuck to their nipples. If you're not a fan of the genre however, I'd recommend you try the demo first.

Each time (the first time) I booted up the app I was immediately coaxed to buy the full version of the app with the promise of being able to see '200 hot women in pasties'. I honestly wish I had the time and patience to photoshop something so clearly epic, but to be honest considering how close she is to my PC i've been lucky enough as it is to get away with superimposing images of savoury baked goods onto soft porn without her noticing.

If anyone wants to give it a bash however, I'll rustle you up an amazing prize for your utterly senseless efforts.

Lick my lattice, touch my traybake. Two for a pound bitch, two for a pound.

Day 12: Alakazam!

After being kindly bullied by my colleague Rami, I've amazingly managed to get my shit together and join the gym - something I've been saying I'd do for about a year. I've even managed to go twice in two days, and my body now feels like i've been failing to learn to surf on a tidal wave of toffee hammers.

If you've been following my earlier thoughts, you might recall I was slightly worried about the going-to-the-gym process. My induction went smoothly - Naturally finding myself nodding knowingly to everything the instructor said, unashamedly lying through my teeth about my previous experience with all the equipment, then later pretending I was catching my breath whilst secretly trying to read the instructions on the machines out of the corner of my eye.

The entire event was a glorious charade of confidence, going through a selection of entirely invented stretching exercises before throwing a towel around my neck in a Rockyesque manner. After an hour of following Rami around the gym like a pathetic mute sidekick, I felt like I was getting the hang of things and wandered off to try out machines ON MY OWN.

Changing rooms naturally bring up another set of fresh questions to be answered - primarily what the correct gym etiquette is in terms of letting other men see your cock. I've no shame in the matter - if anything it seems a little more graceful than the alternative method of shuffling your boxers up underneath your towel, a procedure which always makes me feel a little bit like an incredibly shit magician. I've been trying to imagine how Paul Daniels would pull off this tricky switch, but considering his catchphrase I reckon he'd be more the type to just slowly expose himself to the room whilst cheekily raising an eyebrow.

I've forgotten where I was going with this.

CONCLUSION: I am not Paul Daniels.

Day 10: Bayonetta

This week I've been playing a game called Bayonetta. Quick synopsis: It's bonkers. It's also frightfully well made, deeply challenging, and shamefully childish. But before all these things, it's a just a bit bloody mental. I'm aware that not everyone who reads this is an avid gamer, so i'll do my best to keep it grounded. Apologies in advance if I spiral off like a catherine wheel of perplexing jargon.

Basically you play this woman called Bayonetta who's a witch who's got fully automatic pistols in the heels of her shoes and she's wearing this sexy black cat suit but the cat suit is actually made of her hair and when you do moves it uses up your hair so that she's a bit naked but then when you do the big special move the hair turns into a big dog that chomps up the enemies into meaty chunks then she blows a kiss at the camera and decapitates an angel and there's explosions and blood everywhere and it's Mental.

Insanity aside however, I initially found myself a bit on the fence concerning how I feel about the game overall. It's a sentiment that's been echoed throughout the internet a lot over the past few days - some relish the shameless sexual nature of it all, but at the same time many begrudge it; an unwanted throwback to the 'Jugz n' Gunz' trend of the early 1990's, when your typical female protagonist was often unable to engage in conversation without playfully suggesting she might have a semi-automatic weapon concealed in her vagina.

Bayonetta is a bloody excellent game, but I admit I did feel a little torn about how I felt about the overall content. I had a similar experience over Christmas playing Gears of War 2 with my brother on the family telly; It was great fun, but I couldn't help but feel ashamed every time my Dad walked into the room. As it turned out there was no need for this - he surprisingly seemed to enjoy watching us mince up aliens in a hail of gore. Considering this is the same man that wouldn't let me play Mortal Kombat when I was 10, I wasn't happy about this. As impartial spectators of my hobby, I didn't want my parents to accept Gears of War 2 as being a reasonable form of entertainment; from an outside perspective, in my mind Gears of War 2 shouldn't be seen as anything other than a brash and unpleasant collection of monochrome macho slosh. I wanted to make it clear that this was an exception to the rule - because of this, I felt the need to nonchalantly justify to my parents why we were playing the game, and that we were aware of just how stupid and adolescent the overall package was.

It was an unprovoked reaction, and one that most gamers have been guilty of succumbing to at some point. Whilst there are only a few who constantly soldier on trying to convince the world that GAMES ARE FUCKING ART MAN, most of us are happy enough just trying to assure those around us that we're not a sexually deprived idiotic child. Some gamers deal with the second part of this by hamming up the first, often rubbishing games that are clearly brilliant fun simply because they then don't meet a selection of pseudo-socio-prickademic criteria, which is a shame.

Conversely, the other of the spectrum tend to just play games for a laugh, and don't give a shit about any of the deeper stuff in the slightest; an attitude which regularly infuriates intelligamers, fueled further no doubt by the reality that it's the former group which has most control over what faces commercial success/doom. Irritatingly again, it's usually the doing of these brash gamers that leave many of the rest of us defensively justifying why we're playing these dubious looking games: The main reason I'll make it clear to you that I don't masturbate over chainsaws and headshots is because I'm fully aware that there are a big chunk of people out there who genuinely do.

But anyway, Bayonetta. It's a brash and bloody romp with tits in it. Spin yourself a yarn about the hidden feminist nuances if you fancy, or brand it as a violent wank-bank for spotty teenagers. OR, maybe you've decided it's an ironic statement about videogame culture. Personally, I think it's just deeply silly.

Of all the systems and rules videogames have borrowed from other media, the most damaging is the underlying tendency to believe that for a videogame to be truly worthy of critical acclaim, it must be either meaningful, intelligent, or beautiful. Bayonetta is none of these things, and as such the reaction has been to either scoff at the praise it's received, or to weave a web of pretension trying to transcend it into something it's clearly not. 7/10 games however tend to get by a little easier... I personally can't recall a huge debate surrounding the nature of the portrayal of women in Dead or Alive: Xtreme Beach Volleyball, a critically series of games designed to be specially compatible with man-sized tissues.

Bayonetta is uncomfortably cringeworthy at times; a spaghetti junction of absolute nonsense tied together with overblown sexual references and nudity. But fundamentally, beneath all this it's a fucking brilliant game about fighting things. And the wonderful thing is, it's so good at being a a fucking brilliant game about fighting things that it doesn't actually need to be anything else. As fans of the medium, we're able to see what onlookers cannot: The core of the experience that hides away beneath the shiny - sometimes embarrassing - veneer.

If you're able to look through to the core of Bayonetta, I think you'll find it's solid gold.