VBS ON ANDY CAPPER ON VBS
August 17, 2009
by VBS Staff
Rule Britannia
Andy Capper is a mysterious ginger who edits Vice UK, shoots all of the Britishy things you see on VBS, and moonlights as a “journo” or “bloggo” or some other ridiculous anglic term for “guy who does word stuff.” We sometimes forget about the semi-regular pieces he writes for the Guardian on account of them usually assigning him reviews of sub-awful pap like Glasvegas, which is in fact the very reason why we missed out on his dispatch from Liberia last week. Well that and the seemingly inhuman sense of mystery which permanently envelopes his every act and has led certain theorists to the conclusion that he is not actually a real person, but rather the constructed public face for a secret confederation of this generation’s greatest literary talents and media critics. Anyways, we’ll let you get on with reading his “Postcard from the edge” (we guarantee you they picked that corny title for him) without a whole bunch of spoilers and innuendo. OK fine, just a couple. Frozen strippers. General Butt Naked. General Bin Laden. Handwash. Now git ’r read.
THE ELVISWIFE OF BLACKPOOL
July 22, 2009
by LEO LEIGH
Rule Britannia
This is an extract from our trip to Blackpool a bit ago that didn’t make it into the final film. Andy and I had heard about an Elvis impersonator who’s been walking around Blackpool with a Zimmer frame [British for “walker” – ed] for a number of years, so we went to meet him and have a chat in a cafe.
Blackpool Elvis is slightly overweight and was wearing an Elvis wig and gold sunglasses for our interview. He was sitting next to his wife, who has a military-style crew cut and looks slightly like Biff from Back To The Future. They’re both from Wigan, so if you want the full effect you’ll have to read the following transcript in thick, near-indecipherable northern accents. Nothing has been changed or edited, all the dialogue is exactly what was said.
WELCOME TO BLACKPOOL
July 12, 2009
by ANDY CAPPER
Rule Britannia
Meet Vickie and her vibe. Leo Leigh bought her from a gift shop in Blackpool, which is a seaside town in the Northwest of England. Every time I look at it I’m overcome with lust.
I went there with Leo in January 2009 to make a film called Blackpool: Las Vegas Of The North, which you can watch on VBS this Wednesday!
CRICKET IS A THING PEOPLE PLAY
July 08, 2009
by TERRY HAND
Rule Britannia
- Reuters
in honor of something we’ve never heard of called The Ashes, somebody in the Vice UK office put together a ridiculously exhaustive explanation of the British Isles’ national ball-and-stick sport: Reverse Baseball. We think it’d be pretty rude of you not to read it considering all the effort and sentences that went into writing it, but as an added incentive I’ll send a mix CD of 1980s English fag-rock to the first three people to email me with the name of the guy who spent his childhood throwing golf balls at a water butt. It’s in the middle of the piece, so don’t think you can just skip to the end or anything. You people, I swear.
DEER STALKING SOUVENIRS
June 11, 2009
by ANDY CAPPER
Rule Britannia
The thing on the left is the remains of a .308 Winchester soft-point cartridge, which was shot through a Blaser rifle into the chest of a West Highland hind in January 2009. The bullet killed the hind about 15 seconds after entering the body. The animal wasn’t killed because the bullet pierced any vital organs, but because of the sheer trauma of the impact.
CONGRATULATIONS, BRITAIN
June 09, 2009
by ALFIE NAUGHTON
Rule Britannia
How fitting is it that the week we decide to roll out Rule Britannia, our love letter to these great and storied isles, our fellow countrymen decide to go out and do something classy like elect two members of the BNP to the European Parliament? Good work, guys.
MY DEER DIARY
June 05, 2009
by ALEX MILLER
Rule Britannia
I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that says: “If you eat it you should be able to kill it.” But when someone suggested that I go stalk a deer in the Western highlands of Scotland, it seemed like a decent moral excuse to indulge in a primal, morbid urge.
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