There was a concert in London. Jazza was in the audience, because I saw her and said hello. Anyway, the concert went underway and all was well and good, until they were playing a new song. Mark, who for some reason was back on the right-hand side of the stage, was playing keyboard, sitting down and was messing up the intro to the new song. Jarvis was looking daggers, but Mark just shrugged and said that the problem was with his keyboard.

It gets a little bit kinky here. You have been warned. Skip the to the next paragraph if you are of a nervous disposition.

Mark jumped into the audience and was walking around. I walked over to talk to him, but he was angry with me. Then someone poured double cream over my head and Mark was licking it off my face, but being really sarcastic about it. (Do you want me to do this! Do you want me to lick it off! Do you!) Weirdly, I didnt want him too, as I knew he was angry and his girlfriend was in the audience, so I started to cry, so now Mark was licking my tears as well as the cream.

Anyway. they made it through to Common People, and then a scientist with a beard turned up and Jarvis said he was from MIT, but he had an English accent. Jarvis then thanked the scientist, who had brought a robot, without whom the concert would not have been possible. Then the MIT man got angry because something had
gone wrong with the robot, because someone had poured water on it. He knew this because there was ice crystals on the mainframe.

Then the whole band trooped outside to the street have an argument, but came in a few minutes later. Mark was in front, and as the doors opened to let them in, Candida swiped Mark across the back of the head, really hurting him, much to the horror of the audience.

Then the band were seated at a boardroom table with the MIT guy, discussing what went wrong and who was responsible. Mark was drawing on a poster, but Jarvis reached over and tore it up. Mark looked really sad, so I held his hand and told him everything was going to be alright. Then I began to wake up, but as I did, someone whispered at me,

"Mark IS the robot..."

Bort wrote:

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I had one last week where I was overseas for some big, corporate V-like festival, except it was inside some unnamed city and I was waiting up on the rail for Pulp on a surprisingly small stage, as was the girl next to me. And for some reason, I decided to check out the festival's app on my smartphone (which is an impossibility since Verizon phones won't work over there), and saw that I was at the wrong stage. So I had to leave and walk very far to the other end of town in hopes of making it to the other stage on time, and also had to catch a train, and I arrived at the station and the train just left and I had to wait around for the next one, and then I woke up.

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 Mexico City? They are wildly rumored to be heading there 2nd week of April. Dun dun dun!!! (then head towards California on the 13th, weee). 

Eh, some overzealous dj just said that. Nothing confirmed. Highly unlikely.

Looks like this is your Mexican DJ, my Spanish is not too hot, but I think I get the gist.

http://twitter.com/#!/Radio__Cable/statuses/151944562665979905

saw119 wrote:

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If that is the case then these new dates will almost certainly be without Russell.

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Finish it all off with a last hurrah at Sheffield Arena on his 51st birthday.

This is a much better prank:

Bort wrote:

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Yep, it's a joke:
http://www.lifeboxset.com/noticias/pulp-en-mexico/?utm_source=wordtwit&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=wordtwit

This is war.

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 Crikey, I was wrong. Pulp are big enough for Mexicans to pull a prank on them coming to their shores.

Here's a dream: I was travelling around a bit and in every city I went there was a big neon 'PULP' sign. I went out at night to take a photo of it, but  it changed into an announcement that Pulp would be touring (starting in Mozambique for some reason) and that tickets were now available online. I rushed inside to buy a ticket but my laptop wasn't working then I woke up, annoyed that there is no planned tour for 2012 yet.

fredthe3rd wrote:

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Isn't Morrissey a big deal in central America?

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 Absolutely huge, to an extent you couldn't possibly contemplate. I find it one of life's little mysteries. He's just finished a tour of Mexico. Do you know of any other musicians who tours Mexico? Festivals yes but full on tours are almost unheard of. In Morrissey's own words:

"We had been over-cautioned so continuously about dangers in Mexico, yet we met nothing at all but great support and warmth. The audiences were the most loving (and loud) that I have ever experienced. Everywhere we went people were very gracious, and eager to help. It was a dream tour, and we all felt that we were resolutely home, burdened only by the practicalities of wondering how soon we could return. "

Sorry, I was being sarcastic, I think it would be a stretch to say he was popular among actual gang members in L.A. (though I'm sure they're out there). I actually recognized someone in that Passions Just Like Mine video (no gang members though, )...

I'm sorry the whole Palacio de los Deportes thing was a hoax (cool venue), but there's no way I would go out there on my own anyway, even for Pulp!

I had another one. This time it concerns Mark.

I was in this hotel/shopping mall type place that I have been before in my dreams. I was working on a computer in a huge, brightly lit room, not far from a large towering window. It was early evening and I had just got up from my console to stretch my legs. I walked into a vast carpeted hallway, with concessions on either side and running down the centre was a strip of various seating arrangements, sofas, armchairs, ranks of plastic seating, benches and myriads of people sitting on them and talking or doing stuff. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mark (a present day version) at the other end of the hallway, so i have to hide. He takes a seat on a sofa about three quarters of the way down the hallway, not too far from door of the computer room and near the base of an escalator. I know this to belong to a chiropody concession, so I presume he is there to have his feet seen to. I go back to my computer to try and work, but I'm now distracted and I keep peering round the door way of the computer room to see what's going on. At one point he is lying face down with his bare feet hooked over the side of the sofa. There is a streak of dirt running up the centre of his feet and radiating outward. Both feet are heavily calloused but the weird thing is, the callouses are over the dirt. I go back to work on the computer, but again I'm eaten with curiosity. This time when I look out, Mark is lying face up on the sofa, bundled with blankets and with an oxygen mask over his face. His eyes are closed but he's breathing, but he looks really sick. This time I try to get a closer look, so I sneak round the other side of the hallway, but there are a bank of plastic seats in my way and I can't get a closer look. I go back to the computer and do some more work, but I can't concentrate, so I go back into the hallway to find that Mark has gone and the chiropodist, who for some reason is dressed like a fantasy stereotype of a middle eastern souk merchant. is brushing himself down. I see Mark walking away up the hall towards the exit. I follow him up the other side of the hallway. At one point he looks over and I try to hide in the crowd. I'm not sure he's seen me, but there is a look of worry on his face. I follow him right to the exit, and watch him leave, but as I'm about to catch up with him, I get accosted by a group of nuns who, mistake me for an employee of the cookware shop near the exit and harangue me for help. I loose sight of Mark but agree to help the nuns, as being chef irl I know a thing about kitchen equipment.

I don't know what all of this means, and I did wake up a little worried and confused.

Mark, if you are reading this, (which I presuming you are), I think you need to book an appointment with a Doctor, or at least a chiropodist. 

Anyway given I have so many dreams over the last few days, it's a possible that news, for good or ill is imminent, so be prepared.

SarahAWilson wrote:

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Mark, if you are reading this, (which I presuming you are), I think you need to book an appointment with a Doctor, or at least a chiropodist. 

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 Wait, what? Mark reads the messageboard?!

hawalius1 wrote:

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SarahAWilson wrote:

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Mark, if you are reading this, (which I presuming you are), I think you need to book an appointment with a Doctor, or at least a chiropodist. 

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 Wait, what? Mark reads the messageboard?!

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 He knows about Pulpwiki so presumably he knows about this site as well. 

And if you are reading this :::waves:::

lipglossed wrote:

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My girlfriend had been record-shopping and brought back a vinyl of Freaks with a full-length picture of Russell on the front in a white suit, a yellow background with blue and red details, the other bandmates' names in the bottom-right corner in an amber box, and the name of the vinyl - printed in all-caps serif font - was called 'Senioriality'.

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So I had this absolutely terrifying dream last night.

I was in this sea side town with great towering cliffs that surround a beach on both side(a place I have visited before in my dreams) and I had to find this hotel on the seafront to deliver something to the band. The thing I was carrying looked a lot like an omnichord. Anyway I found the hotel on the seafront near one of the cliffs. Mark and Candida were standing outside. Mark sees me, reacts in horror, grabs Candida and they both run in  the hotel. I follow them in to try and give them the omnichord but it becomes apparent that the hotel is much bigger and grander on the inside and full of twisted geometry. I try to follow them as best I can but I can't keep up. All of a sudden, the dream shifts and I'm on the tour bus, but it looks more those coaches you have to take school trips on. It becomes pretty clear I've been shanghaied onto the bus. Mark comes walking up the aisle and it dawns on me that instead of just delivering the omnichord I'm expected to play it. I'm now terrified as I have the musical proficiency of a brick. The next thing I know, Mark is dragging me onto a stage. He is furious, raging anger. The stage is surrounded by thick black and red curtains. As Mark is pulling me into the wings, I'm screaming and crying. I drop to my knees and beg him to stop and I can't go on the stage. He rages back at me.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

"No."

"You are always thinking how similar we are. Now is your chance to prove it" There is venom in his voice. He spits his words at me.

"I never meant like this. I meant the fear of loneliness."

He leans over. His face twisted, viscous.

"We are not the same.We never have been. And you were a fool to ever think we were."

At this point my body turns into worms and unravels,  disintegrates. Mark, disgusted, snatches the omnichord from what used to be my hands and marches onstage.

I woke up disturbed, scared and very confused.

Hours later I'm still feeling really uneasy. I don't know what this dream portents but I'm afraid.

I had a dream a few nights ago, but I really didn't want to go back and resurrect this thread after over a month.

Anyway, I was at a theme park and there were Pulp themed attractions advertised. One of them was called "Dishes", so I went to have a look. 

There wasn't many people in the queue and when the time came, we were ushered into this small kitchen that kind of looked like my kitchen at home. Mark was giving a cooking demonstration, shirtless, (he had a lot of body hair)  but wearing chefs trousers and was ferociously rolling out some dough, whilst flour was getting everywhere. Being a professional chef, I was inwardly critiquing him. He saw me in the crowd and stopped cooking and came up and greeted me really friendly, which I was kind of confused by, and he asked me how I thought he was doing. At which point I woke up.

This reminds me of another dream I had, a few days before Steve died. I was on a bus, travelling through the back streets of some suburb, when I saw Mark standing on a traffic island - like for the Different Class sleeve. I waved at him, but he looked at me and he seemed really angry, then he crossed the road and then went into a building that looked like some kind of restaurant and there was a party going on. I tried to get into the building, but there was no doors so I couldn't get in. I went to nearby building that had a raised veranda around the outside, and stood and looked in the restaurant, I could see children running around, but I couldn't see Mark anywhere. Suddenly a voice behind me said "You want to get in there, don't you?" I turned round and there was Richard Hawley. I looked at him and said "I want to know the truth." He took both my hands and looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you really want to know the truth?" I said yes. We back and forthed until Hawley said "OK, I'll tell you the truth."

Then I woke up, very frustrated.

I had a dream the other night.

Jarvis was dead... and Russell was driving a tractor pulling a trailer with the coffin & flowers. The country lanes had people dotted about, and they were clapping. It was a lovely sunny day - blue skies, green hedgerows and wild flowers blooming on the verges. My view was right in front of the tractor, in line with Russell. He was looking behind him to check all was ok - it was ok - he was calm, stoic & resolute.

I noticed he was wearing a very pale suit... was it white? His hair was very black. Was he dressed like Hopkirk as in Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)? 

Jarvis might have been watching on the sidelines, looking pleased with himself, or was that a memory of another time? And if Russell is like Hopkirk, then is he the deceased?

I wasn't sure if what I was watching was real or a TV show being filmed - but I couldn't look anywhere but into the cab of this tractor and everything behind it via the back window.

I was trying to find out what was going on... and then I woke up.

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I will say Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)* was a favourite programme when I was very young, and Hopkirk was my favourite character... so that figures.

*Obvs the original show, not the Reeves & Mortimer reboot.

Fingers crossed i have a Pulp dream tonight. My dreams are always always without fail related to something that happened in the same day so maybe I'll get Pulp mixed with Barbie and Meadowhall where i went to see it today, which will make for interesting reading.

I had a Pulp dream the other night.

Somehere in a US/Mexican bordertown in the early 20th Century Russell works in a diner slinging food - very faced past, very rough crowd. I see him through the hatch, his eyes are so dark they are almost black. He is looking pretty frazzled and I feel so sorry for him working so hard - it is very hot in the kitchen. I am a waitress sick of it all, I pull out a pad & pencil and get back to work. 

I turn to look around the room which changes into a seedy nightclub (still in that early 20th century bordertown). Lots of cigarette smoke. I am (apparently) a dancer and am being ushered out to dance - I really don't want to. I look back to where the hatch was, and it is now a door and out comes Russell playing his violin - he has to go entertain the tables. We exchange looks like, "Oh god this is embarrassing." He plays and sways around the tables... I take a deep breath, straighten up, check my attitude and walk out to dance... 

Then I wake up.

[Similarities to the 1935 Paul Muni/Bette Davis movie Bordertown are inexplicable as it is a terrible film.]

Very brief snippet of an otherwise-unrelated dream.

I'm flatmates with today's Jarvis Cocker. I'm talking to my girlfriend in the kitchen. Jarvis walks in with a bowl of cereal and milk. There's little white discs floating in the milk. "Jarvis", I say, "the milk is mouldy". He shrugs and goes "awright" and tucks in regardless, sloping off, bowl-in-hand.

Eamonn wrote:

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You guys been munching too much mozzarella ? 

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 Stilton. It's Christmas.