F**k Yeah! by Al Calm (english readers TXT) 📖

way too many. Chat to some people still recovering from whatever they done the night before, I can't think of too many names, fuck knows what they're doing, we all proper loved up and nice though. Just the raver way, full of loved out vibes. I won't forget their faces but fuck trying to remember their names.

 

Some real dodgy fuckers too. They look fucked and sound fucked. Just like me, I guess. Way too many parties here, yeah vibes all the way! Nothing but a party twenty-four fucking seven, it don't usually stop, even when you're trying to come down and get real chilled. Got to watch those pigs now and then and the odd on top nosy neighbour when it gets proper mental. But it can't be all the time, just feels like it. That's when we ain't fucked. So maybe a little chilled out down time does happen.

 

Feeling it now. Fuck. What the fuck I drop? I don't know. Remember seeing Ruffstuff, Fabio and Grooverider, Bunter and Slippers, Dugs, Brockie and Det, Blackmarket, Goldie, Rat Pack, Doc Scott, Doc S. Gachet, Randall. All the dons, and I'm sure Skibadee and Shabba D were there, classic SAS, smashing it up as usual. Harry Shotta smashing it up too, fucking real incredible, I can't believe more people don’t know about him. Fucking kills most commercial fuckers dead with his bars! RIP Stormin – never forgotten bruvva, proper ADHD bizzle! Yeah, the vibe; the sound; it all clicked just as I was really rushing me nuts off! Where the fuck was I at? I don't know, fucking wicked club though.

 

Came back to the flat in the morning just after ten-ish, but we will were still going for it till after two-ish. Some fucked fucker's gone and put fucking Neighbours on to chill us out before Old Bill pop round, proper fucks your come down sticking soaps on. I fucking hate TV sometimes. What a messy one, though. I must've blacked out for a bit. I wake up, try to take a shit, can't squeeze it out, so out of sheer boredom I do a huge line of bash then find a sweaty MDMA wrap hidden in a tissue.

 

Fuck it, might as well roll another jay while I'm trying to take a shit. All well quiet for a while, get a bit groggy on the bog, then P-Funk Era woke me up again. I must have passed out on the bog, I proper lost track of time. Fucking does that to when you’re a waster like me. Fucking big up Pascal though, love P-Funk Era. Great tune to wake up hearing – can’t do pop shit unless it’s been proper remixed. Nothing like a proper classic to get you with it, though! Peshay's Piano Tune mad ting too. It's got to be after five, right? I check me mobile. Fucking time, man. Freaks me right out. OK, it just seven.

 

What the fuck I been doing all day?

 

Just as well I'm a total fucking waster! I got fuck all to do, I just get real fucked. I'll be straight up with you, I don't know when the party's over. I'm the poncer of ponces, a real chancer's chancer. Yeah, I go with the flow, good old Hogman. I don't call myself Hog. Hog is me DJ name. Not that I actually DJ much. I just like the whole scene and vibe. To be honest with you, I'm a total fuckhead, it’s so much easier like that. I know that much about it! I’m definitely still a learner in the DJ stakes, but I’m a fucking expert in the Fuckhead league and anyone who meets me knows it straight away! They give you that look, you know the one! I'm looking for Bungle Bob. He's a real funny fuckhead. He's fucking some random bird with four kids from Harrow. She's a bit rough looking, but Bungle's a beast. Real animal. I love him and hate him at the same time.

 

Bungle Bob goes to me, Here's a bit of MD, mate. On the house for Hog! I’m sure I owe you! Bungle hands me a massive wrap of MD, me eyes are popping out! One for the raver massive alright! Bungle Bob shouts down me ear. I nod, I don’t quite know what to say. I know how much of a crazy fucker Bungle Bob can be, but I enjoy his crazy periods. He might be getting laid off at work again, so he’s spending it while he’s got it.

 

He’s ticking like a fucker again, I can’t believe he can tick so much. I can't believe me luck, though! I end up saying, Cheers, mate. Bungle laughs, nodding, still saying, Go on, bro, have it, he says to me. He must think I’m spazzing out like him. What a crazy cunt, but you got to love him. Original ragamuffin bizzle, bruv! Bring on the rubadub! Bring on the jungledub! Bring on the One Love! All those Jungle Love vibes! Wickedest mashup! Wickedest Sound!

 

Yeah, I think Bungle Bob got it all off some random he knows real well. Someone blasts some Congo Natty, fucking banging, nothing wrong with Drop the Beat at this time. Bungle starts telling me about his dodgy contacts. He’s got loads of them. Bungle goes, Yeah, he’s a fucking carpet-fitter by trade, you would never guess it, serious mate, it’s proper well random! What a mentalist! You would never have guessed it. Bungle Bob knows all sorts of random fuckers, I ain’t amazed no more. I know it’s a joke, but if the PM sorted him out, I wouldn’t be surprised, real fucking result scoring some posh candy! No bash for rich kids, innit?

 

Bungle didn't ask me for cash up front, which has to be a first. He don’t usually trust me at all. I think it has to be all part of his percy. He was doing a fair bit with me before, anyway. He might’ve forgot I ain’t the one paying. Who am I to correct his fucked memory?

 

I’ll turn into Sir Ponce-A-lot if it’s free gear. Fucking A! All abroad the MD-X-Wing! And we'd already done a fair few facebooks and smileys, I'm getting a bit old for them, I go straight for the party mix these days being too poor to buy decent coke. Bash seems to be everywhere these days, but I got to watch me nose, it bleeds like a fucker when the cut up coke gets proper harsh.

 

I should've helped him knock it out, wicked atmosphere, working up a proper sweat. A bit blatant though, not that the bouncers were arseholes, we were just proper fucked, I can't blame them for looking away. We don't start no fights, we're all about the love vibes and procurement of top buzzes. And it's only money, as those Jungle legends, the Ragga Twins say, the drugs you buy just to get smashed!

Bungle decided to buy up shitloads. The place was getting ripped up, proper smashed up by some mental sets. I don't dig loads of dubstep stuff but when the D&B legends get on it and fuck shit up, throw in the old skool vibes mash it right up with some dubstep, and jump up, it ain't a bad sound and it goes real crazy.

Mentalism deluxe, for sure dudes! Loads of dudes there. Trying to remember them seems to be straining me brain like mental constipation, as if me head'strying to shit, but I'msure it was Dillinja, Brockie, Det, Shy FX, DJ Rap, L.T.J. Bukem, Randall, Skibadee, Shabba D, Harry Shotta, Stormin (RIP), Shockin B, Eksman and Herbzie, Stormin, Kenny Ken, Nicky Blackmarket, Nookie, Billy 'Daniel' Bunter, Slipmatt, Uncle Dugs, Vibes, Phantasy, Ragga Twins, Co-Gee Gully, IC3, Trigga, Bassman, Sly, A.I., Jumping Jack Frost., Bryan G, Krust, Moose, Navigator, Ray Keith, Flux, Congo Natty and Tenor Fly(RIP), Remarc, Mampi Swift, Hype, Nicky Blackmarket, Marky, S.P.Y., Roni Size, Pressure X and Times Two, Jaguar Paw and Dizzy Blonde with Yush, Krome and Time, Fabio and Grooverider, Ed Rush and Optical, Doc Scott, Fresh, Bailey, Crissy Criss, Dr S. Gachet, Andy C, Adam F, Zinc, Micky Finn, DRS, 5-Alive, Fearless, IC3, GQ, Dynamite, Stamina MC, Evil B, Fatman D a lot of proper legends.

I ain't joking, too many to name, even though me mind has been proper shot to shit, I still got the flyer somewhere. I'm just reading off some flyers now, I'm thinking real hard, all I can think of has to be the vibe, such a great vibe, all a proper blur though. They can'thave all been there, but I'll catch each and everyone again, fucking live for it fuckers! Yeaaaaboieee! Wicked night, wicked buzz! Fuck: needed some fucker to record these legends really, but then people wanna film it, it's all about sound, I wanna clean copy to buy and rinse again and again! Don't want some shaky trust-fund hipster filming it all, probably would've looked fucked anyway. Everyone just be zoning out for the cams, fucking Facebook generation fuckups man! It's fucking mad sounds us old skool heads want, not fucking fashion footage!

Shame the house party after was so fucking random! Think I'm too old for house party shit. Channel 4 made out house parties were like the next illegal rave vibe, fucking middle-class bores who had never been to one, starting with all that watered down poser shit TV, proper ripping off Shane Meadows; but some house parties can be like real fucking banging. Some mental shit can go down, or it can be real dull. They're like extremes.

 

Channel 4's house party TV night thing wasn't too bad for a bit of slumming. I was off out too. I missed a fair bit of Annie Mac though. They should've had Sister Bliss on there, too, she'd proper smash it, she's wicked. But most house parties are proper shit. I'm getting older, need to be more intimate these days, like little gatherings, dropping dodgy acid and shrooms, having a proper toke in a kids’ Wendy House. Fucking random shit sums up the 21st century for me.

The house party or even the festival never can live up to the club and warehouse vibe these days, no way does it beat it but it can come close. I can't think of who was there and what the fuck went on, I never can. A decade seems to have blurred into one long rave. House parties always go weird like that. I remember having a puff, doing some lines with me school mate Dave's folks. We're clearing up after a real destructive house party, where the fighting and trashing everything came first and the music got forgotten. I'm a house party veteran these days so vibes are a must.

Used to be too poor to rave as much as I do now, you don't get a break for shit when you're fourteen, always scrimping, bits n bobs - it just easier to get on it with a mass festival vibe, maybe try to catch the DJ you want to see headlining on their own, loadsa cheap places for indie bands, a lot gone, though could still go to Swerve midweek; it's a Friday now, ain't it?

Or just blag a cheap club as they do exist. Stink's always wicked value on Sundays, though I can be too fucked for it sometimes. It's the extras, don't mention the fucking drinks. Buying water seems bad enough. We all know why the clubs need to make the water nearly the same price as booze, or most clubs will be out of business by the end of the month, that's what finished off Hacienda back in the day. It don't matter to me no more if the clubs decent or totally shit. It’s all about the tunes.

All clubs should be like on the warehouse vibes. Fucking quality, for proper raving! I'll be there, having it right out, doing a proper fucked up one foot skank! Buzzing me balls off! Hear a tune I love!