SMOKE ZOOTS DO CRIME

COP OUT

imagine if a porn magazine came with a disclaimer?

this publication exists solely as a record of the acts performed by those it contains but is by no means intended to encourage masturbation.

it sounds like some kind of week joke russell howard might expel whilst being boss eyed on stage talking like he’s a spastic.

or a sandwich with a disclaimer telling you that it is for ornamental purposes only and should you choose to eat it you do so at your own peril.

i’m no idiot, i understand why such things exist.

in this suing culture we’re drowning in, this hateful american mindframe where you can always find a way of holding someone else financially responsible for your own stupid actions, legal disclaimers can be a way of guarding agasint precisely such ridiculous behaviour.

like writing may contain traces of nut on a packet of nuts. once again, this is not a shit joke i’ve appropriated from a tv panel show, it’s something which actually happens.

as though we’re too feeble minded to possibly apply our own rational judgment, that unless something is expressly written down it becomes utterly ambiguous and impossilbe to interpret using rational thought.

therefore any absurd misinterpretation is the fault of the manufacturer not the consumer.

i’m allergic to nuts, but it didn’t say anywhere on this packet of cashews that it contained nuts, so i cannot be held responsible for the consequences.

we’re being conditioned into believing that we actually need a nanny state, that the world is too hazardous and baffling to possible traverse using our own judgment so lets let the eton boys behind the benches sort it out for us.

much safer, after all they know best.

which is why i find it so weak that graffiti magazines have legal disclaimers in them.

what a fucking cop out.

the first and easiest point to make is nobody could possibly think that painting trains is allowed. regardless of their stance on graffiti, the fact (in england) that you almost never see it running on trains nor do you see people doing it coupled with the uninviting appearance of the train yards hints ever so slightly at its illegality.

furthermore, who reads graffiti magazines? writers and vandal squads.

if you’re a writer then you enjoy painting and are all too aware of its illegality, typically evidenced by a colourful criminal record and various scars/torn clothes. when you pore over graffiti magazines it can wind you up or inspire you but it will almost certainly get you motivated to go and do some graff.

the vandal squads only exist because graffiti is illegal. a publication detailing exactly who got away with painting what in their city is not gonna irritate them less if it contains a disclaimer explaining that it’s intention is not to promote or encourage graffiti but solely to document these ephemeral pieces of urban art before they are heartlessly washed away.

the fact that a graffiti magazine ever even comes to fruition is a testament to the publishers love of graffiti and his desire to record panels for posterity. it serves no other purpose if not to promote graffiti, and its physical existence condones it wholly.

if everything the magazine contains contradicts the law, its pretty fucking gutless to then put that little paragraph at the beginning to cover your own skin. surely if you paint you should be proud and have such a strong disregard for the law that even just the notion of including a disclaimer is repugnant.

it is a total fucking cop out.

if i ever make a graff mag, the first page will say in highly legible letters:

this publication exists with the sole purpose of promoting graffiti globally, condoning it as an activity and supporting those who do it.

or maybe nothing at all.

SHOOK

SEBATICAL

for the first time in a long time ive got something better to do than this.

back in a few weeks.

COCOA BUTTER

yesterday was a hard day.

not to elaborate on it too much, but i listened to ghostface and grabbed an 8+1!

then i decided not to go to work.

no phonecall, no fretting, just a good old fashioned decision to blow my responsibilities for the day and possible near future and ride the happy wave i woke up on.

first text to my algerian don with the offer of a breakfast in the cafe if he built a head to smoke beforehand.

without delay his tactile african fingertips tapped out a confirmation and that he had already burned one that morning.

precisely what i needed to hear. the odds of this eyebrowless zoot instigator being awake at that hour were slim enough; but to be up, high and mobile!

true to his word a formidable cheese cone was unveiled alongside a trademark enormous grin and a “my nig!” accompanied by a firm handshake and then a “shiiiitttt!”.

explanations were offered up as our lungs puffed up, then we kicked back with a cuppa, beans on toast with cheese (“uhhh, can i have my cheese on top please..”) and a communal chips.

2 becomes 3; another countryside ex-pat had some errands to run in narm and some some construction based conundrums he needed our guidance on.

several more rounds of tea disappeared during a nice thursday morning of looking at graff websites, having back to back youtube mixes pulling out all the hip hop bangers (and obviously some gucci mane) and expelling inordinate amounts of gas.

the next event was rectified but at the time was a small cloud in an otherwise spotless sky. quantities of cannabis were purchased for myself and the 4th member of the party who was en route. disaster struck.

as i’m sure a wine connoisseur will tell you, if one gets used to drinking decent wine then anything less will taste all the worse for it.

well i’m used to drinking petrus pomerol, and what he served me up with was a flat night bus lambrini in a plastic cup.

fuck it, bottoms up chaps.

we ventured to a local high point, got high, pointed, and returned to base satisfied with our orienteering abilities.

stomachs were upset by a video this sticky girl once showed me of an interview with the german scat queen veronica moser. youtube that shit (no pun intended) and have your horizons broadened!

the group halved due to family and wifey commitments, so once more it was the arab and i left.

having refunded the bag of bog, we skipped all the way to jamaica road and bagged a bag of the whiff which was humming so loudly we had to shout over it. word.

free beer thursdays beckoned as we pushed on on foot to get footloose and fancy free. naturally we bumped into bruce bumbling about, billed one and bounced to brick lane to give our guts a run for their money.

it would have appeared kind of sophisticated from outside; a dozen or so smartly dressed men in their 20s sporting an array of polo products proudly. not so from within, but we specialize in deceiving looks, get me.

then like the red eyed sea we split and i nupped on the tube til home.

got in, billed a head and finally bust the nut that had been trying to escape for over 24 hours.

if you’re gonna do something wrong then you should do it right. there’s no point taking the day off work or in the grander scheme doing something reckless if all the time you’re going to be mentally burdened by the consequences.

most importantly though, is what gave my day such a good start.

the application of cocoa butter.

7.56

sunny morning.

tea’s been drunk.

little zoot’s been smoked.

now the days tunes are being sourced off datpiff.com.

out to my southwestern kush smokers and my northern tac enthusiasts.

summer’s here.

REFUSE

there’s a classic line often emitted from the mouth of authority;

“well if everyone took one, there would be none left for anyone else”

needless to say this sentence is contradictory.

a bit like notions of visual truth.

remember at school when teachers would roar “do you want a detention?!?!” never prepared for a genuinely delivered “yes.”

or the other chestnut;

“well if they all went and jumped off a bridge would you?”

probably.

these absurd phrases are a mere handful of the constant stream of aural bullshit we are subjected to in situations we are put in regardless of our will.

i was once in soho riding up a one way street the wrong way wheeling my friends bike in my other hand. some jumped up CSO with a hard on who thought he was doubly gangster because he was rolling with a genuine bonafide cop started giving it the big ‘un.

the standard speech of why i was wrong dribbled out of his good-for-nothing-but-sucking mouth while he kept throwing glances at the actual cop in a “check me out” kinda way.

“is there anything you can think of you can say to me to stop me from giving you a ticket?”

in case you’ve not noticed i’m no stranger to being a smart arse, so i loudly ummed and aahed and finally just shook my head, “nope”.

“well what about if you apologized?”

“oh yeah i’m reallly realllly sorrry…”

he did not take kindly to this, but i had had enough at this point and laid lyrics on him for which he was not prepared.

‘fuck it, either you’re gonna give me a ticket or you’re not, its totally up to you. so just gimme a ticket. i’ve got stuff to do and i work so £30 is nothing, just get on with it and write the ticket so i can get on with my day”

he looked at though i had just recited pi to a thousand figures…dumfounded, speechless, staggered.

silent.

the pussy didn’t even give me a ticket in the end! after my small tirade he literally didn’t know what to do, got really visibly angry, and then just barked at me “walk the bikes!”.

it reminds me of another infamous line teachers adore, especially the secretly mega cunty ones who wanna be your ‘mate’ but will throw you to the dogs at the first chance;

“if it was up to me i’d just let you get away with it, but my hands are tied…blah blah blah”

bullshit.

you ARE the one who has the choice as to whether or not i should get away with whatever monkey business i may be undertaking.

you just WANT to be a cunt because you’re that type of person, your life is shit, your job is so unbelievably boring that given half a chance you will pounce on any opportunity to throw what little weight you think you have around.

like the ticket inspector the other day. he rung the station i had gotten on at and asked the chap there (this is during rush hour too) how long the queue had been for the ticket office that morning. he then decided that instead of letting me buy a ticket he would fine me…so i decided otherwise.

i turned around, told him to fuck off and that there was no way i was paying a fine, marched back up onto the platform and got on the next train.

as it transpired i was able to bunk out at another equally convenient station and managed to avoid either the £3 train fare or the £20 fine. definitely a result.

but herein lies the point: i said no.

i refused.

imagine that, if everyone refused?

instead of bitching about train fares on the way to work, imagine if commuters stood up for themselves (i know it’ll never happen because they’re weak fucking ignorant pagan yuppy scum) and just said no. we aren’t paying that much, that’s ridiculous.

and EVERYONE at waterloo at 8am had no ticket and what is more refused to buy one. what could they do about it?

NOTHING.

if everybody stopped paying their parking tickets or their court fines, the system would crash. keep sending out those letters, reminders, threats. but still nobody pays or pays it any attention.

it is only under these types on conditions that change can occur.

same with bail, and court, and all forms of punishment. we allow them to happen. we as a society have decided, or rather have had decided for us, that certain actions result in certain consequences.

imagine the laws which have been in place during the course of history which have since been overturned, abolished, discredited? the law cannot be codified, it must be an organic being in order to work, although that in itself would be an impossibilty due to the specificity of law.

rather, that people need to stop blithely and blindly obeying laws and putting up with a never ending cycle of abuse and hypocrisy coming from the mouths of our self appointed oppressors.

people need to unite as a whole, as a unit, and start to risk their own freedom or money or whatever else may be at steak for the greater good. would you rather stand up and be shot down or stay crouching? the more people who stand up, the less chance its going to be you getting popped, so your own personal risk is smaller.

everybody is made to be selfish under capitalism, it is encouraged and exploited. as such people are adverse to taking risks because they fear the punishment and they are afraid of having to sacrifice anything. that’s why our so called ‘riots’ and ‘protests’ are a joke and the participants should be embarrassed.

a load of fucking anarchist squatters who chat more gas than words can explain stood there in hoodies shouting at police is not effective. any clashes which occur are also pathetic and no police ever die or are seriously injured here during clashes, which is a real shame.

yet our european counterparts openly throw molotovs, actually at the police not by them, they fight, they don’t run, and they burn down fucking bridges and hotels and banks! not just some white dread booting in a starbucks, but actually firebombing the riot police HQ instead.

just take the risk. say no and mean it.

fuck the consequences, you’re gonna be dead one day anyway. don’t be scared or worried, be angry and mobilized and refuse to obey or abide by their nonsense anymore.

a tube single doesn’t cost £4.

fags aren’t £7.

one way roads aren’t one way.

a train works regardless of what colour it is.

fences are there for climbing.

34 in a 30 zone is never points on you license.

i’m fed up with it. with the situation, the system and society for being too meek and docile to confront problems properly.

JUST SAY NO.

TATTOOS

“never trust anyone with perfect tattoos”

truth from the wizardly erl.

PURPLE RAIN

remember when insides were battered?

it seems like something impossible now, it almost makes you wonder if it ever was…

i remember getting on the hammersmith and city line and it looked like the fucking bronx at its height.

50mm reaches galore, certain faces like EBOLA making such a sordid impact.

or STEAS on the bakerloos and victorias, that aggy black ink he was always rocking.

for some reason CRAP tags on the orange doors of the white districts also made a lasting impresssion. probably on the fucking doors too.

not forgetting the silverlink back when it was mad moody and you’d often see paint tags running inside for weeks and weeks.

a group of kids i knew from brondesbury got robbed twice in the same night on the silverlink. obviously that’s not a good thing technically, but everyone needs some shit like that when they’re younger, it puts a spring in your step and hairs on your chest. these days its just a camera filled sausage train. oh what a shame.

southwests got abuzed on by a variety of faces. notably LEARN and GUSTO with the super tough hand styles.

windows were scratched to fuck. remember the time when ENZO had a scratch, virtually without fail, on every northern line carriage?

this is what is sad about today. there is nothing to inspire kids.

nothing was supposed to run then anyway, but now you don’t even get to see a few cheeky corio reaches dotted about the place.

that’s why it’s so good and so important when faces come out from the dark and show the young uns how it should be done.

you have to think there are certain people who have been bombing ruthlessly, constantly, for over 15 years, same tags same styles. that’s a fucking important remnant from the past.

when you see a NIGAZ throw up, you better bow down.

once when you rode the lines you’d have your nose glued to the glass. so many burners from so many people. now you may as well not bother.

barons court to hammersmith was a who’s who of london legends, ladbroke grove to westbourne park even moreso. all the classic old DDS stuff around north and north west…

this is one of the few good things about graffiti on the internet; when blogs like LEAST BLOGGED appear and you get to see something special. something highly personal. tons and tons of amazing london graffiti from the 90s which is long since gone but certainly not forgotten.

this ain’t a history rant, more of a reminisce. i just think its a shame those days are over. all in all the quality of graffiti in london has gotten steadily worse when you compare it to the styles people had in those days. standard boring arguments about how much time they had etc. are gas because you can spend as long as you like on a trackside and still the majority of them are, if not soulless, certainly less impressive than their forefathers efforts.

maybe everyone should relax, let loose and go in on the different styles. are those who enforce the graff rules not in reality a bunch of fucking bods whose opinions should be discounted based solely on what they’re spouting?

or maybe we should all get back on the lines, pump up the stainer and let the LU have it once again?

i’m for the latter. i wanna see a london graffiti renaissance. damage to everything with anything. more screwdrivers less montanas. if kids never see what is possible they’ll never try to get beyond that.

look at other cities. brake pull wholecars on subways like its nothing. painted stations. battered streets. big tracksides not tiddly little floaters. now is the time, when the olympics is bearing down fast upon us, to let london have it. show them exactly why they can get fucked. how that big buff from 06 simply strengthened resolve.

buff everything again? go back and do it twice as hard. no mercy. get hyped up, watch DIRTY HANDZ 2, go rack a shoe mop.

graffiti is thousands of years old, its a natural coping mechanism for an urban or arguably any environment. the BTP date back to 1826. there’s no way they can win a losing battle. that’s like trying to outlaw prostitution. it ain’t gonna happen.

RESIST

EQUALITY

back when i had a certain flat in south east, eggs galore got thrown at anyone foolish enough to walk within our sights.

they were some of the best days, getting 30 packs of super battery bred eggs for less than £2, then hiding on the balcony belting them at people, giggling profusely when they inevitably reacted loudly and angrily.

we had some rules at first, but they swiftly boiled down to only 2: no old people, no children.

obviously girls got egged, why wouldn’t they? here’s my stance; it’s 2012, the 60s has happened, womens rights have prevailed and despite the enormous salary divide which still exists, men and women are (so we’re told) on a more equal footing than ever. well, in the UK anyway.

i’m not a sexist, the teachers who always had the greatest impact on me were intelligent and strong women. i would define them as feminists, but in a very positive way. ignore that image of the dumpy dyke in dungarees burning her bra with natural arm pits, they just became the negative poster girls for a very powerful movement, if for no other reason than to undermine the seriousness of the cause.

go check the gorilla girls, they set pace in the art world and its male dominated history. their most infamous poster stating that “less than 5% of the artists in the modern art section (of the MET gallery in NYC) are women, but 85% of the nudes are female”.

chivalry doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist. women who object to having a door held for them or being offered a seat on a busy tube need to check themselves; it’s not a patronizing gesture, it is basic manners which most people extend to both sexes anyway.

the main division which exists between the sexes still is the subject of violence. there’s a strong general consensus that you shouldn’t hit girls. it’s drummed into you from a young age and as you get older the reasons for this are patently clear. domestic violence is one of the most sickening occurences, but even more scarily in some lands it is heavily ingrained in their culture, this notion that a man’s wife if his property and he is free to do with her what he chooses.

ever heard the expression ‘the rule of thumb’? look up its origins. for real.

i have to make generalizations now which i generally try to avoid, but by and large men are physically stronger than women and as such it would not be a fair fight.

yo i said by and large. i know there’s plenty of girls who could fuck me up, i’m not trying to say all women are weaker than men and live under constant tyranny, or that they are helpless individuals who rely on men to protect them. but that if you grabbed a 30 year old man and a 30 year old woman off the street and made them go toe to toe, the man would probably be able to beat her up or leastways subdue her.

it’s not condescending, it’s kinda just a fact. that’s like someone getting the hump if i said men have penises and women have vaginas. there are physical differences between the two sexes; gender is of course a whole other can of worms which at this point can stay sealed.

this is where the controversy may lie.

if women are doing the same job as men, and want to be treated the same way as men, then they have to prepare for the same consequences to befall them.

i would happily fight a female cop. i would smirk as i launched a brick in her face. giggle as i kicked and punched her. why the fuck not?

they are scum, both female and male cops. my loathing lies with them as individuals, for wanting to do their job in the first place. have you ever encountered female police? they are fucking cunts, because they know they can throw their weight around and there’s nothing you can do.

i once got bagged and some cunt WPC tried to get me done for assault on a police officer because as i was fleeing she grabbed my arm and i broke free. her version of events was that i turned around and punched her in the chest. so they want to have their cake and eat it. play the man when it suits them, getting involved in the fracas, but then equally abusing the fact they are women to appear defenseless and to help establish themselves as the victim in the situation.

it’s shameless.

in my life i have never even come close to raising my fist to a woman. it is utterly abhorrent, especially within the privacy of the domestic sphere when the woman is isolated from the outside world. this kind of abuse also extends to mental abuse and manipulation.

but a female cop? why not.

it’s like when people cry over soldiers dying; i don’t give half a fuck. they’re all murderers anyway, they’re doing the job they chose to do and fell foul of the consequences they knew existed.

or when sharon beshenivsky was killed on duty. so what? it was her job. she was a selfish cunt for doing that job when she had a family. if i were her relative i would hate her not mourn for her. and don’t for a second try to justify her choices, there are so many other jobs as shitty as being a cop she could have chosen from, she chose her path. just because you do not expect it to happen, it doesn’t mean it won’t.

these senitments obviously extend to male police and soldiers too, but children have a stronger yearning for their mother than their father when they’re young. for a mother to be able to do such a job is baffling to me, surely they must be severely lacking in maternal instinct.

you won’t catch me in fisticuffs with a female anytime soon, but if the situation dictated i’d headbutt a female cop and not think twice.

for me, a cop is a cop. sex has nothing to do with it.

ACAB

SNEAKY CUNT

this one is for the newest snake to oust himself in our midst.

what’s the golden rule between friends?

and i’m talking about a rule which extends beyond the world of graffiti and nonsense, this is even more serious than not snitching.

you don’t try and fuck your friends ex girlfriends.

it’s probably been written in stone somewhere.

now amongst my sordid group of mates, there are girls who have slept with more than one of us.

that happens, it’s just one of those things.

by and large it doesn’t create ill feeling because we’re all friends and we’re all aware that we’re all pests but it’s not like anyone’s toes are being trodden on.

and no it doesn’t make the girls slags; we’re all old enough to realise sex really doesn’t have to be a massive deal and some girls much like some boys are just on sex, they dig it. i dig that. ya dig?

even to try to chirps a girl someone you know is making the move on is pretty poor form, but you gotta live and let live.

the snake in question is no stranger to night of passion with whatever he can scrape back to his gaff, and he does always seem to have a beat lined up somewhere. it’s kinda what he does i suppose, just pester girls to he gets a wet dick.

that’s all well and good, apart from when the girl you’re pestering on the sly on facebook is one of your so called friends very recent ex. the friend in question does not struggle to get girls to share his bed, but he was well behaved with this bird and they went out for over a year.

had he been out lagging, seen the girl and tried to drunkenly stick it on her, it would have been arms initially, but they are mitigating circumstances especially when the snake is a known pussy pursuer, and an honest apology the next day when she said no would have been the honourable thing to do.

but my man drew for the ‘do you wanna come round mine and watch a dvd ?’ type message. the groomer in action. needless to say my friend saw this message and hit the fucking roof.

so the snake got exposed. how did he react? did he take it on the chin like a man and admit that yeah, he was sniffing around her but she is single now so while it’s not the done thing technically he hadn’t done anything wrong? obviously he was in the wrong but at least that response would have shown balls, instead of the wet, pathetic, moist text he sent my friend.

i’ve fucked up, it took me ages to earn your respect now ive fucked it…blah blah blah.

spoken like a true outed rat. kinda cunt who will probably try and gas that he has a sex addiction and he needs treatment. yet as ever the plot thickens, and it soon came out that he had also tried it on with my friends only other long term ex girlfriend who he was with for years and years. one of those romances that blossoms during early teenage years and meant a lot to both of them.

snakes and rats always slip up in the end. it’s just a shame that they are always in your midst. see in some older post i was banging on about how you should trust your gut feelings? on this occasion i actually thought the dude was a pretty good egg but in the words of MIN ONE, “that’s some never forgive action right there”.

they weren’t my birds but they were a good friend of mines, so there’s no question as to where my loyalties lie. now that the anger has died down, its more a case of disappointment (though, sadly not surprise); he could have pestered any of the hundreds of horny hipster honies in hoxton who aren’t connected to anyone and so for the sake of the argument are fair game.

at least he wasn’t such an ingrained part of the family that his presence is too sorely missed.

it’s some simple lesson though; you don’t try and get with your friends ex girlfriends in an underhanded undercover manner. firstly, you should have more respect for the ex girlfriend and your friend than to pull that shit, and secondly if you really do like the girl and it’s more than just your dick crying out for a little vagina jacuzzi party then talk to the dude upfront.

however sly you think you may be, everything always comes out in the end. remember that.