Stef N Tel

Stef N Tel



Another verbalised adventure going boldly where no duck (or goose) has gone before...

There are some things that are archetypal, things that come up again and again as though they're buried deep in the collective unconscious. And one of these reoccurring archetypes is the 'kebab apocalypse' which has aroused both fury and indignation over countless thousands of years. You know how it is, one too many down the pub and grab a kebab on the way home. Staggering along with nose to the pitta bread and next thing WALLOP! You get sucker punched by a hoodie on a mini bicycle. Lamb and salad flies everywhere and you're down on the floor fighting the hoodie mercenary for possession of what's left. He doesn't want your phone, oh no, neither your money nor your rather trendy Nikes. No, he wants that kebab and to get it one of you must die. It's been going on since the Bronze Age and it'll probably go on forever, wherever both man and kebab come into close contact.

I was wandering through Aldi picking up a few things; eggs, weetabix and cabbage (which together make a tasty meal) and I bumped into Davros. He's the ultimate Dalek leader. He was there looking for pickled onions and getting furious cos they only had the sweet ones not the sour sharp ones. I told him to calm down but he exterminated me! Bugger! No worries, Stef has built a Dalek eradication weapon from sticky back plastic and washing up liquid bottles. Revenge will be nigh!

I was flying, on a bed, a big bed, springy mattress, dolphins up my nose, loose in the head, tech crazy, it was a helluva ride!

Everyone's heard of the 5G conspiracy but how many people know it has all been a conspiracy of dolphins? And how does this fit in with the Germanic Pyramid Theory?

And so we come to the final part of electric kebab head: a jovial tale of 2 men talking nonsense.. Some say that existential comedy is the hardest thing to do, harder than pushing a bus up kings hill, whilst others say it's as easy as frying an egg. The truth may be somewhere in between; pushing a fried egg up kings hill, or frying a bus.. We are sick to death of listening to all the preachers, all the experts, all the know it alls, those who think they know but have forgotten that they know very little. We know that we don't know and that what comes out automatically is as good a response as any.. Comedy died (with notable exceptions) cos it got serious, cos it forgot how to play, really play, not in a superficial way for playfulness reveals the substance of the nonsense we take too seriously day to day. Life's a sandpit, get in and jump about!
Nothing in this video is original and nothing is copied or borrowed, it is all electric kebab head.

Life: What's it all about? earwigs, genitals and detergent? It's all a part of life and the cosmic thingy wotsit. So here we sail on ships made of reinforced concrete into the unknown supermarket of life. We make ladders outta cocktail sticks and cocktail sticks outta ladders, that's called relativism. In the end what's left behind? Wallpaper, clothes brushes and baby hippos that's what. So we must take our time before time takes us to the cleaners. In this episode Stef N Tel reveal their deep philosophic sensibilities and sensitivities to all of lifes wonders like cauliflower, straw and bubble machines.
This video contains certain altered images and a wee bit of music for the use of comedy reflection. We don't make money we make dinner!

Fry me to the moon and let me scorch among the stars, fry me to the moon where I'll play with Lucifer in bars. And when I see the magic sea is waiting just for me, then I'll find another kind of soup made out of tea. So fry me to the moon and let me swing among the trees, fry me to the moon and I'll crawl upon my knees. The purple kiss and tragic lisp of tiny little ants, will stagger on to dingly dong and eat up all my pants..
What is created is out there and what is out there is used. Credit where credit's due but ideas can't live in cages. Who claims to own knowledge? Who can decide who can comment on what?

Comedy misadventures on the far side of reality.. Meet Jim the Gym the candle maker extraordinaire.Yes here we are.. Or are we? It is reported that kebabs have lost 10 IQ points over the last century.. So, no more genius kebabs!! Of course kebabs live in the 'Lamb that time forgot' near to where the fish n chip shops died of exposure to fake Chinese cod. Chips were replaced with French fries and bacon with chapatis. Spring rolls can't stand winter and dumplings feed on melons occasionally. So now you know..
All ideas expressed in this video are 100% original except those that are not. When we expose ourselves to media should we have a right to reinterpret that media? Stealing an idea to use it unchanged as ones own is one thing but putting ones own slant on anothers idea is not stealing and is in fact a necessity of progress. I am the walrus, we are the walrus..

In which Stef N Tel say words like 'banana' 'car' 'dog' 'cranberry' 'table' and 'bullfinch'.. Mostly animals and fruit because Tel is half fruit half animal.. Meanwhile the CIA invades Tels nose with helicopter gunships dressed as tractors and Stef provides inside information on how to get from said nose to brain. It's a tough path, a long unending tunnel, all black and sooty, with no assurance there is any form of brain or conscious to be found at all..

Psychedelic kebabs you can light a cigar with if you're a Gremlin that is.. Tel lives on an island, last outpost of imperial delusion, while Stef zaps through time and space in his magic car.. Eileen lives in Tula Mexico, indeed. This episode sets the stage for the paranoid ramble to come; involving CIA tractors, witches, ant fuel and Norman candle sellers..
Like, share and subscribe if, by some mad instance, you wanna support us to continue to explore the nether regions of the existential imagination; we're paddling down a river into the swampy gloom, drifting and laughing like deranged gibbons!

Finally the finale! Will they find the fabled mower? Or will they lose their underpants? Or both!? There are no other options when all's said and done. You can't hope to change the world if you can't change your pants!
Meanwhile, down in the underwear factory there are rumours about tall pygmies with undercover accents..
Oh how the butterflies fly! Just like butterflies flying.. Eggs don't have wings, not yet anyhow, that's how we can tell an egg from a butterfly. But an egg from an egg is tough. A butterfly is smaller than most birds but bigger than most insects, however there are exceptions, which just goes to show you can never be too careful.
Free commons attribution cos of the beginning.. Otherwise it's all downhill.
The next exciting Stef N Tel adventure will be forthcoming (or even third!)
'Plagiarism is necessary progress implies it'

In which our intrepid anti heroes indulge their love of cows and other things like teapots, egg sandwiches and flying cars (in that order)..
Warning this video is not serious!!
Free commons attribution for the purposes of comedy critique.
All opinions expressed in this video are not opinions expressed in this video. The world is not real. We are the dream images of invisible giants. Invisible giants do not recognise copyright or hate speech therefore neither exist as we also don't exist. Maybe the invisible giants themselves don't exist too, in which case they are the dream images of tiny salamanders in a Japanese ornamental pond.

'What is man but a lonely potato in the frying pan galaxy of life' Mrs Trotsky .. Potatomania! Stef N Tel continue their odyssey across deserts, forests, mountains, corner shops, multi storey car parks and hedgehogs (hedgehogs?).. 'What goes up must come down, unless it goes sideways.' Mrs Lincoln
None of the opinions stated represent the opinions of those who state such opinions even if they mean it or allude to meaning it they do not mean it really excepting the odd case where they actually do mean it in which case it can be assumed they do not mean it anyway... Nothing in this video is intended to cause offence and hatred is definitely not the purpose, for we must all live together as if in a nursery school in little chocolate covered dew drop sugar coated houses where we can dance and sing and play together without ever saying rude or bad things nor being the least bit angry, frustrated, unhappy or negative at all. Rather, it is in a spirit of harmony and humanity that this video is broadcast... Potato

Stef N Tel discuss everything, everything ever in the world or extraneous to the world, plus Tesco, Yurts and lawnmowers etc.. Tel is a British ex pat living on the last island left in the empire 12ftx7ft and Stef is a swash buckling Celtic shaman with a banana in his ear. Stef is supposed to be from Ireland but sometimes it's hard to tell..... This year marks the duos 10 years on youtube.. They started well but slid inexorably into obscurity when Tel went off around the globe searching for the fabled Mongolian Lawn Mower of legend and Stef got lost in a potato field one night in October 2012, he only just got out yesterday!! Tel never did find the Lawn Mower but instead found out he had haemorrhoids, breasts and a leg made out of match wood and candle wax (or is it a head?). Stefs experience in the potato field taught him shamanic wisdom and chips with a wally on the side, go easy on the vinegar! Thus, somewhat intrepidly, and filled with a sense of dumb bravado, ignorance and a tolerance for unspecified diseases affecting the colonic canal, amongst other things, the pair are attempting a once in a lifetime comeback by trying to figure out what it's all about; it being it, not it, but it. Stand by for action as they try to string together random yet profound sentences understandable by goldfish and sedentary marsupials like hedgehogs, camels and extinct bird species (the Arizona sparrow throat warbler).... PART 2 COMING SOON! OOH!

Ladies and Gentleman, to use a lost colloquialism, the final presentation of the Eratics 1979-2019 EP .. Now we can totter off to the old punks knackers yard, from whence we sprang, where the speed grows on acid trees and toothless bunny girls spray smack, tcp and mothballs onto crowds of bald spikey tops. Punk rock gave me piles! But what's a little discomfort compared to the Marquee club in Wardour Street on a loud n sweaty night? Jeez, we couldn't even spell 'ERATICS' back then nor even guess that it means a 'loose boulder'.. Did Thatcher really put all those downers on the streets back in 79/80 to take us out? Damn well nearly worked in my case! In these days of convenience, with a spy cam in everyone's pocket, You have to order your tickets months in advance, if you can even get one! Back then we made discoveries every week, a quid on the door, 50p a beer and three blues a pound. Bunk the tube back to Seven Sisters for the last train, no ticket. On the way vault the barriers at Oxford Circus tube. Bondage got a snare drum, invented hardcore drumming! Squatted the old Church on Pentonville road, it's still there, forgotten its name but it's not a church any more. Not even god wanted it back then, the gigs there were great fun! Someone brought along big rolls of crepe paper which ended up like pink spiders webs all over the joint. Did we play with Crass? I can't remember but Conflict and Flux and Rubella and the mob and the subhumans, Apostles, supported Chelsea at that very marquee club and kept getting asked if I got the gig by offering my ass, NO for the last time! D+V Dave and Julie, MVD, Tom Vague (his holiness), Hope N anchor, Greyhound, pubs all over, and Italy Bologna Jumpy and Laura, half the band came home half dressed, the other half got stuck behind with the luggage, the magic bus, the spare driver got left behind in the Alps when he foolishly went for a pee, now that was funny! Pickled Onions being thrown, the Gay Butchers with Hagar the womb on Holloway road, I wanted to do their entire set, wanted to be them! There's elephants! Dan running up the platform as the train pulled out going to Amsterdam, did he turn up late at the new Merlins cave on the back of an open truck playing his kit? Or is that my imagination? Blood N Roses, flowers in the dustbin, Brigandage, Alien sex fiend. Turning up to Hammersmith covered in paint 'are you the decorators?' asked the landlord 'no, we're the fucking band mate, we always look like this!' Snout getting tied to a chair whilst sleeping at the peace centre in Roseberry avenue, He always managed to get to work next day, it was strange.. He worked! Interviews in the squat in Milne st; where nonsense descended over anarchist political issues. Nights in Amhurst Rd. Jim N Harry turning up for y'know, and Dean Tis ah 'get yer shirt off!' The Triad and the Newtown Neurotics gave us a gig but we blew it big time, I spent more time at the bar than playing my bass when we were on, Mick and Anarchy, Pat and all the others, Stringy walks on Guinness and the big punch up in the playhouse in Harlow. Ambition and confidence Vs Money and resources. Those that came to see us, not mentioned by name but neither nameless, faces remembered. Take the 73 bus it'll drop you anywhere your heart desires. Square pegs in round holes, youth eternal, a catapult to send one flying through life. In the end those solitary loose boulders they call ERATICS though what we intended was 'unstable' were quite a good metaphor, that's kinda how I think of it all now, a hill strewn with loose boulders created by some mega blast or ice sheet way back when. I dunno if they'll be another anniversary, 50 years, perhaps, perhaps not, maybe it's time to end it here. When you play with the same band all your life time it’s a funny thing. Kinda like the gang at school stayed the gang at school forever. But it's not. We melt into other lives and realities, we're not really the eratics any more, it was like a first car, you know what I mean (humour me).. Bard Buster? They are! Look Mummy Clowns, The twins, Clare, Asa, Steve, Cathy Mr Blue Mohican, yeah you! Max, Bunny, Tom, Mole, Our Karen and my Pat. I am marking time, marking what was, bringing it back for a moment into the now before it vanishes again and maybe for good. Nostalgia, yeah why not, sometimes, not all the time.. The sun sets on my east Asian island, it's the same sun as back home, cos I am a son of distant clouds, but I suffer less runny noses now! Eratic hordes go garrity 1979-2019 Cheers Stringy

Penultimate number of the Eratics 40th anniversary ep.. Trying to get to a rehearsal, trains stopped, body on the line. We churned this one out following that incident, it got mixed into a metaphor.. I guess if there's such a thing as 'country punk' this might be it.. Appearing are Stringy, Snout, Bondage, Roper, Dan and Jim, Karen (fleetingly) Tel and Harry RIP.. Photo's are Eratics, Look Mummy Clowns, Peckinpah and Sergeant Snout, which are essentially the same band. We started as a primitive punk band, got caught up in the anarcho punk scene then the post punk scene, then faded away, came back as a heavy duty rock band then went a bit prog punk. Now we don't know what the hell we are! But the point is, we aint stuck where we started, and that if anything, remains true to the ethos we originally had. It's been a long road, a road to nowhere, but a road I'd walk down again any day of the week. Life's an adventure, full of pit falls, highs n lows, we stay the same but we change too. That winding road is there to walk down, where it leads one knows not, but if one stops to rest too long then the energy to move on quickly evaporates. We are explorers, our own creative impulses cannot be bottled into ways of thinking, being, that's for the people who can't or won't follow that road no more. Nothing is finished, it's just developing, the end is just the start of another beginning. Stringy 2019

Continuing the Eratics 40th anniversary EP. Tiger Man was originally cut by Rufus Thomas Jnr in 1953. It's just on the cusp of the transition from Rhythm n Blues to Rock n Roll and has a great energy about it. It's been one of those songs that keeps coming back to me since I first found it on a beat up old Sun recordings comp back in the early 80's. I tried playing it solo but never quite nailed it. One day I got the pace wrong and slowed it down a bit, that seemed to be it! We got it together and came up with this version. It's a bit of a jam out but worth a listen.

40 years ago about now, June 1979, three erstwhile teenage punks from the outskirts of London played their first gig as the Eratics. Since then we've played together on and off under many names. This is the first song of an EP recorded as the Eratics to mark the anniversary. We have never been stuck in the past, we change, we always write new material which we hope retains a certain spirit but reflects the changes we've been through.
Stringy: bass vocals
Snout: guitar
Roper: drums
Other members - Bondage: drums, Dan: drums
and Jim: clarinet, Karen: bananas

Millionaires of the world unite! You've nothing to lose but your chains! An anthem for all the left wing millionaires and wanna be's.
Brian O'Blivion is a jaded punk rocker from another dimension. The Handshakers are his metaphysical band.
The rich shall inherit the earth

Morrisey thinks Fascism is a form of Socialism.. Cue shit storm!

Cambridge academic gets fired for doing science..

Atheist and Lefty Rationality Rules dares to be a tad critical of Transgenders in women's sport. Gets excommunicated by PC atheists (a contradiction in terms).

Danny Baker joins the PCPC: Politically Correct Pillory Club.. Members enjoy the benefits of public humiliation, career termination and branding as a bigot first class.
Music by Brian O'Blivion

Hello, I am the universe, nice to see you!


Created 2 years, 1 month ago.

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