N-DUBZ: AGAINST ALL ODDS - SNEAK PREVIEW! (Text)

There has been a lot of talk over the past couple of weeks about British rap megastars N-DUBZ’s new autobiographical book, "Against All Odds: From Street Life to Chart Life". The book details the hard times the group overcame to become the number 1 selling band they are now. Whilst most critics shall be reviewing the finished product, as available in all incredibly shitty bookstores which should be closed in my opinion for stocking such filth, I was lucky enough to be sent a draft version of the book, from before the publishers got hold of it, by an insider. So, with that in mind, I bring you the true, unedited thoughts of Dappy, Frazer and Tulisa – enjoy!




Inbox: Voice (i_miss_the_X_files@hotmail.com)

New message

From: Easyjetstelios69@Easyjet.gr
To: i_miss_the_X_files@hotmail.com
Subject: Against All odds - draft version.
Date: 02/04/2010


Voice,

Here are those pages from the new N-DUBZ biography I promised you. Feel free to use exerts at will, but promise not to publish them on your site until the book’s launch. The book is written in 3 parts, one by Tulisa, one by Frazer, and the final section is written by the group’s charismatic frontman, Dappy. In order to ensure honest opinions flourished on the pages of the book, the 3 members agreed not to read each others’ chapters, therefore offering a more real perspective on the events told. Of course, this led to a few contradictions, which the Publishers should hopefully be sorting out prior to release – however, I believe the original version has a more real, human feel to it. Keep up the good work on the site, and don’t worry about it, I’m sure that you’ll beat that O’Brien prick to any Seagal-related news that comes out this month!

Regards,

Stelios.



Attachment: N-DUBZ biography, Chapters 1-3.




TULISA


I grew up in Hatfield, just outside of Essex – my mum was working as a prostitute down in Lakeside, trading her body for alcohol and cigarettes, but she always wanted something better for me. I still remember, when I was only twelve years old, I got in a fight outside of school, and my mum was called there by the headteacher. She just gave me a long, stern look, and said “Tulisa, why are you fighting other girls like a Tomboy – you should become a slag and get your ex-convict boyfriend to beat the shit out of any girls who insult you instead”. She then went into the next room and fucked the headmaster to get me out of detention. I took those words to heart.

Aged 13, I lost my virginity to Diesel, a 26 year old Ugandan who had just gotten out of prison after serving 8 years for manslaughter (He argued provocation, cos apparently the guy was a Tottenham supporter). At first I was a bit nervous, cos I knew he already had an 8 year old kid with another girl in my class, but he convinced me that she would never find out, and we did it in the DFS showroom after hours one night (he was working there whilst on probabtion, but assured me he’d be back to robbing betting shops soon enough). It was amazing, and didn’t hurt at all, until he fucked my arse – with a cricket bat. Afterwards, as we lay in that luxury Queen sized £899.95 bed together, smoking white rhino (cannabis with heroin “dots” in it, innit?), I asked him if he was a cricket fan, and the words he told me stayed with me for years to come – “no, I jus’ carry a bat round to fuck niggaz up, innit?”. From that moment on, I started carrying a screwdriver in my purse, right next to the vibrator I stole from my mum when I was 7.

I first met Frazer when I was in his cousin’s crack house, aged 15. I had been sucking his cousin’s dick for a rock of crack, when Frazer came in. His cousin, Evil, told me I could have a whole gram if I let him and Frazer spit-roast me. I wasn’t really sure at first, because Frazer had a bit of a reputation as a Rude-Boy (I heard he once licked the chicken at the KFC he worked in before serving it), but when he told me he would wear a condom, I was sold. He blew his load in my arse, and that was when I knew we were destined for great things.

The next day, Frazer confessed to me, whilst we were out shoplifting from Harrods, that he was an aspiring rapper (well, he is black), and asked if I wanted to be his groupie. I told him I would for an ounce of crack, but also pointed out that I could rap, if he wanted a backup performer. He asked me to show him what I had, and I got my tits out. Frazer had just starting saying something about “I meant in terms of rapping ability”, when we were thrown out the store. God, princess Di’s dad is such a CUNT! I mean, what kind of a place allows public breastfeeding, but doesn’t let you show your tits? Babies are fucking disgusting, that’s why I had all 4 of mine aborted – but guys are supposed to love tits! I think this Mohammad Al-Faggot guy must be a homo or something, I mean – who wouldn’t want me? My friend Sophie told me I’m what you would get if Lady Gaga and TuPac had a kid – what guy wouldn’t find that attractive??>?

We met Dappy 3 months later, when we were performing a gig in Grays. I heard Russell Brand’s from there, but I hate him – eugh! Who does he think he is, using those big words? I mean, what does obsequious mean? “I’m a Homo”, I bet. Original humour that appeals to the middle-classes should be banned in my opinion – like that Lenny Henry – who the fuck does he think he is, talking like one of them posh pricks from Oxford Poly or something? Has he forgotten his roots? You’re black, you poser – act like it! I hope his wife leaves him.

Anyways, Dappy was our support at that gig, and we were just blown away by his style! I mean, he was wearing a sky blue tracksuit with a James May ball-ball hat, white Nike airs (size 6), and shades – at night! It was unreal! He also had all these tattoos – written in Arabic or something! He’s from Greece – I think that’s in Dubai, so that could explain it. Anyway, we all smoked some weed and agreed to form a group, and that was it – N-DUBZ were born!



FRAZER


I grew up in Hackney, London, and spent the first part of my life living with my grandparents. I was told my mother was only 15 when I was born, and that my father was the assistant manager of the MacDonalds on the M25 junction of Waterloo and had used his position of power to get my mum to sleep with him. I swore that if I ever met the guy, I would knock him out. I never saw him.

School was tough, I was one of the only black kids in my class, and was constantly teased by the Asian kids because my Grandad worked in a library, not a kebab shop. I used to visit the library after school, whilst my Grandpa was cleaning, and I would read all the books on music. One day, I read a Rick James autobiography, and it was a revelation! Black people didn’t have to be amazing on instruments to become world famous! All they needed was an average sounding bassline, and lyrics working-class white people enjoy! When Run DMC came along, I knew I was going to be just like them. But English. Of course, I said the same thing about Bon Jovi when I was 9, but this time it was different, I could feel it...

I started rapping at the age of 14, and was just starting to get good when my Grandparents were murdered in front of me outside the theatre in a drive-by shooting. I have never been able to prove who did it, but I sent my demo to Dizzee Rascal the week before, and suspect that he shot them as a warning to me to stay out the rap game, knowing I would put him to shame if I ever got up on the mike. The police said it was “random”, but what do they know? I mean, would a guy with a Mac 10 really hit 2 old people by accident if his actual target was an amateur boxer who was working part time as a bouncer on the door they were shot by? I don’t think so!

After that, I went off the rails a bit, and started hanging out with my cousin Frederick (whose friends know him as “Evil”, but whose full name is actually Frederick Winfried Frazer-Jenkins) who was a small-time crack dealer. I didn’t want to stay with him, because his house always stank of drugs and was full of underage sluts, but I had nowhere else to go – especially after I was fired from my job at KFC after licking a white guy’s chicken as revenge for him making a joke about all Black people liking Watermelon.

One night round Frederick’s I went to bed early, and one of his friends came into my room and injected me with heroin. When I woke up, I felt like absolute shit and was certain I was going to die. Frederick told me that if I wanted to counter the effects of the dope, I would have to smoke some crack. I don’t remember much more of that night, but when I woke up the next day, I had a beautiful Essex girl lying next to me, and I knew that she was the one.

That afternoon, I took Tulisa to Harrods to get her an engagement ring, and whilst we were there, I let slip that I was into music, especially groups like Run DMC and Aerosmith. She told me that she was a rapper, and would perform with me in exchange for my marrying her (I believe her exact phrase was “for a nice big rock” – obviously referring to the diamond on the engagement ring I was to get her with my Chicken Money). She showed me her breasts, presumably to show me that she was developed enough for kids, but we were kicked out the store for “indecency”. How is love indecent, I ask you? Unless it’s between a man and his Pit-bull, which is what I heard Fredrick’s mate Keyshawn is into...

Tulisa and I started playing gigs later that year, and that was where we met Dino Contostavlos, a.k.a "Dappy". I love his act, the way he plays a mentally challenged Greek guy “from the streets” on stage is hilarious – he could easily be the next “Flight of the Conchords” or Sascha Baron Cohen – I heard he even had a fake argument over style with Martin Freeman - the guy who played “Ricky C” in “Ali-G Indahouse”. I would have loved to have seen that – Dappy so clearly bases his character on Ricky C you could swear he really was a plain-old chavvy cunt. Ah, great guy... Anyway, we asked him to perform with us, and he agreed. And so N-DUBZ was born!



DAPPY

M8 I’Z A GANGSTA – WOZ BORN ONDA STREETZ OF AFFINS, AN’ SPENT ME LIFE REPRESENTIN’ DA EA$T AFFEN$ MA$$IVE, INNIT? MY DAD WANTED ME TO FOLLOW HIM INTO DA FAMILY BUSINESS, BUT I SED – YO, POPS, I DONT WANNA RUN EASYJET WEN I GROW UP, I WANT TO BE A RAPPER. ALL THE OTHER KIDS AT SPECIAL SKOOL ARE GONNA BE EITHA FIREMEN OR MUSICIANS, THAT’S WOT I WANNA DO! SO HE FLOO ME TA INGLAND IN HIS PRIVITE JET AND PAYED THE OWNER OF DA MOST EXCLUSIVE CLUB ON DA WEST END (ITS CALLED “BUTLINS” IF YOU WANNA VISIT SUMTIME) TO LET ME PERFORM. I OWE A LOT TO MY DAD – ITS A SHAME HIS IDEA FOR EAZY CROOZES DIDNT TAKE OFF – I TOLD HIM PEOPLE WOULD THINK IT WAS A PORN SITE FULL OF HOT SPANISH CHICKS RATHER THAN AN ORANGE BOAT COMPANY, BUT HE DIDNT LISSEN!

WEN I WAS ON STAGE ONE TIME, DIS GIRL AND DIS BLACK GUY ASKED ME TO BE IN THERE BAND – COOL, I FORT – WORKIN WIV A BLACK GUY AND A CHICK WILL BOOST MY STREET CRED (JUS LIKE THOSE ANTI-LITTER CAMPAINS WE DID LATER THAT YEAR!), AND WIV THAT, N-DUBZ WAS BORN. I NAMED THE BAND AFTER MY CLOWN DOLL FROM WEN I WAS A KID – N-DUBZ IS THE BE$ST GREAK KIDZ SHOW EVA!!!

SAFE, YEAHS?





The horror...


Voice

First Impressions: No Country For Old Men (Text)

As a general rule, if you enjoy a book, you should avoid any film adaptations of it, as they almost never cease to disappoint. Even small changes to the plot or characters that wouldn’t bother the average movie goer will enrage fans of the original books, sometimes a lot more so than you feel they really should. I recall the outrage expressed by fans of Watchmen when the movie reached its climax, and no giant alien squid appeared. In the book (or graphic novel, I should say), the squid was merely a plot device, not a significant character; it could have been anything else, or even not existed (as in the film), and would not have affected the story. Yet fans of the graphic novel went crazy over its exclusion. There’s probably even someone out there who stormed out of Lord of the Rings when he realized Tom Bombadil had been cut. People just can’t stand to see stories they love being butchered to make them more exciting from a cinematic perspective.
On many levels, this is true when it goes the other way, too. Almost everyone I know who read The Bourne Identity after having seen the film hated it, whilst those who read it before watching the movie loved it. The same is true for many other books, even Jurassic Park. If you enjoy a story in one medium, you probably won’t enjoy it in another, because the changes necessary to make a book into a film will almost certainly modify the story by a huge amount, possibly even beyond recognition.
It’s interesting, then, that a mere 40 pages into Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men, I feel as though I’ve just been reading an incredibly detailed movie synopsis someone’s printed off IMDB. All the elements I remember from the film, which I watched when it was first released, are there in vivid detail, and it’s incredibly easy to picture the scenes unfolding, much more so than with most other books of this type. However, there is another reason why I have likened it to a synopsis from the internet Movie Database, and that is that it’s incredibly difficult to read, despite the language being very simple.
Since the last couple of sentences may sound completely contradictory, I shall explain further. The descriptions of people and places are extremely detailed, but only where they need to be. Whilst Stephen King may spend a page or two explaining exactly what it feels like to smoke your first cigarette, McCarthy is more than happy to just give one word explanations. However, the detail contained within the few words that he uses is incredible. Rather than give a simple explanation of “The rifle was custom built, with a telescopic sight mounted on top”, McCarthy describes the weapon as “a heavybarreled .270 on a ’98 Mauser action with a laminated stock of maple and walnut”. This description tells us everything we need to know about the rifle, without spending an entire paragraph detailing the action on the Mauser ’98, or explaining the advantages of a .270 calibre to a .308 when hunting deer. It’s simple, but at the same time detailed. Whilst in sentences such as the one above, this style of writing is brilliant, keeping the story going along at a good and fast pace, while at the same time giving us a clear picture in our heads of how the scene would appear on film or in real life, it often makes reading sentences tedious. Unfortunately, in order to simplify descriptions of events, and to keep the story moving, McCarthy very rarely uses commas, and floods his sentences with the word “and”. The result of this is that you can’t pace the sentence naturally in your head, and I often found myself having to read long sentences 2 or 3 times just to make them sound right, and get the emphasis in the right places. This is a major distraction when reading, and I found it very often destroyed the images of the scenes I was picturing in my head whilst reading, instead replacing them with nothing but a train of thought on how I would go about saying certain sentences were I to attempt to read the book aloud.
To help put this into context, I shall now give you the same sentence in 4 different styles: the over-simplified, the normal, the over-complicated, and the Cormac McCarthy.

Over Simplified:
Jerry Seinfeld told a funny joke and the audience clapped.

Normal:
Jerry Seinfeld finished telling the joke. As the applause grew, it became clear to those watching that this man was a one of a kind comedic genius, and that his brand of sarcastic humour was going to be incredibly popular.

The Over Complicated:
Jerry Seinfeld finished his joke. The facetious tone of the joke, although entertaining, was, in the end, erroneous, as the anecdote itself was more than enough to cause the audience to grow more vociferous than could be reasonably expected; the laughter and applause of the raucous crowd echoing throughout the grand concert hall, growing and growing, like a balloon of raw energy, encompassing all within earshot of the riotous comedian. Indubatively, It was clear to all present that this man would go on to do great things.

The Cormac McCarthy:
Jerry Seinfeld finished telling the joke and paused for effect. The audience began to laugh and applause and soon enough there was a standing ovation and the entire crowd cheered for Jerry. Seinfeld thanked the audience and waved goodbye and left the stage and the crowd kept on cheering. He was going to be huge.

All 4 styles have their benefits, and all convey the same event in a slightly different manner, but I just cannot get over the constant use of “and” which McCarthy employs. Look at that last sentence, and tell me that you would use that one if you intended to describe the scene depicted. Sure, if you changed it around to read “Seinfeld thanked the audience and waved goodbye. He left the stage, and the crowd kept on cheering”, I may well agree with the statement, but as far as I’m concerned, if you use “and” more than about twice in a sentence, it just doesn’t flow, and becomes annoying to read. Before you say I’m exaggerating, I would just like to quote a line from No Country for Old Men:

“Then [Chigurh] picked up his air-tank and the stungun and walked out the door and got into the deputy’s car and started the engine and backed around and pulled out and headed up the road” (McCarthy; No Country for Old Men: Page 7)

I distinctly remember a child in my class in year 2 writing a story much like that in Primary school, and being told by the teacher that he needed to break up his sentences more, otherwise no-one would be able to read it. When 7 year old kids know more about writing than a Pulitzer Prize winner, I find myself losing faith in humanity.

Oh yeah, and McCarthy doesn’t use speech marks, either.

Nevertheless, I find myself captivated and enthralled by the story itself, no matter how much I despise the writing style of the author at times, and will no doubt continue to read it, to see how the story and characters develop, and hopefully I will get to the point where the draw of the story is so intense that no number of uses of the word “and” could put me off reading it. Either that or I’ll just watch the film again.