Here in West Yorkshire space and time are dimensional parameters often connected and casually used in currency as if their relational values are known in stature and phase. We think that the stresses may be radically wrongfully understood. We suspect that a disproportionate value is placed upon TIME as a commodity. It's amazing that more people do not realize how tenuous it is. Time is a funny fellow to be sure, and is only one way of understanding space. Smell & Quim are interested by concepts of describing, understanding, prescribing and utilizing space by means other than by time, and therefore transcending the concept of measurement and dimension. This is hard for humans to picture, being furnished culturally with armchairs and wallpaper designed by cyclic/linear modes, so our strategies may seem difficult or off-kilter at times. Drugs may help the newcomer to grasp our output, but we strongly suggest intercourse with aliens or skinny women with big tits or striking cleavage.

By following the usual tracks and arrows scrawled ignorantly by the official tourist agencies and chamber of commerce, the foreign traveller can easily miss out on a veritable cornucopia of delights known only to the connoisseurs and revellers of a specific area. To this end Smell & Quim would like to point out one or two (a few) enriching Alladin's Caves of culture within the area of West Yorkshire to which the excited visitor may repair in search of those entrées which give authentic substance to the usual superficial check-list garnish offerings on the bill of fare.

Sophisticated company and classy comfortable times can be had in some of the better pubs in Leeds. In latter years names such as The Nags Head, The Regent, The General Elliot and The Viaduct were watchwords for genteel and stimulating carousal. However recent years have seen a decline in these, and whilst the former retains a vortex of frisson reverberating within its' hallowed L-shaped accommodation, the undoubted boss venue for the ultra chic is now unequivocally The Duncan. No visit to Leeds is complete without several overflowing goblets of ale in this establishment whilst engaging regulars in stimulating banter or song. It is here that Smell & Quim spend many a jolly hour incontinent with delight in the company of all manner of chums... One tradition in West Yorkshire is to never eat on a dry stomach, so after a few sneck-lifters in The Prince of Wales, thoughts can then be allowed to stray to the subject of more substance - full solid ingestible items, namely food. We would thus take the opportunity at this juncture to explain some of the delights of gastronomic fare which are available in this section of the North of England.

Shepherds Pie is in many ways a mysterious dish. Its' major constituents being minced beef and potatoes, one has to wonder at the shepherd connection. Surely lamb would be easier for shepherds to acquire than beef. In current times it is in many ways surprising that anyone in the U.K. has any interest at all in ingesting meat. The cows are all mad, the sheep are radio-active and the national poultry flock is riddled with salmonella. The greatest loss is undoubtedly the ox-tail. The bovine spinal column is outlawed and sorely missed by Smell & Quim as a stage prop. Bull semen is also a ticklish commodity to come by. The only meats which seem safe are those of a more exotic nature such as kangaroo and ostrich. Or traditional game items like wood-pigeon and hare. Also showing promise is a type of genetically engineered dry-cured pork which doesn't shine and is called Matt Bacon.

Something closely resembling Shepherds Pie is often called Cottage Pie. I personally haven't been able to tell the difference between the two. Having "Cottage" in the name tends to put the average heterosexual off. Cottages in the English vernacular being the name given to the toilet crucibles used by homosexuals for encounters of a usually carnal nature, hence the term "cottaging." Such things as Cottage Pie and Cottage Cheese (especially) thus can lose the appetizing facets that the quaint label may intend. Famous people arrested for cottaging include Jimmy Sommerville and Peter Wyngarde.

Yorkshire Pudding is the regional namesake item of fare. Often presented as some kind of dry styrofoam frizbee, it is best when made with a stodge element to its make-up. A batter of eggs, milk and flour is introduced into an oven tin containing a drizzle of extremely hot fat, and cooked at high temperature to rise at the edges like some savory profiteroll thing. Herbs or even hashish or flowering heads can be included in the mix if desired and the pudding can be served filled with a rich stew, or even Lancashire Hotpot, but don't ask me about such a dish. The relations between the Rose shire counties of Yorkshire and Lancashire are notoriously delicate. Try Simon Morris for the lowdown on Lancashire Hotpot. It is a strange concoction from a hostile pan and I decline to attempt any description of a meal devised by those strange cloven reptiles from West of the Pennies. We are between the ice and the light. In constant need of redefinition. The light is more like a crystal than the crystal that is the ice. If we go towards the ice we cease to exist. We need to be part of the light. the heat. To change and evolve to redefine ourselves and so be our own creator. this is the only way we remain alive. We must not allow ourselves to freeze. We need to sparkle and flicker like the flame constantly in flux. Not just a surface reflecting that light, but the source of light itself. Yes, that was a great Yorkshire Pudding...

Seafood can be good and one must also consider vegetarian alternatives. Bombay Mix is terrific, but just how did Linda McCartney manage to cook all those meals?? It's no wonder that she got cancer, with the stress of having so many pans on the go constantly. Perhaps if she'd had a mastectomy it could have formed the basis for a tasty soup or stir-fry. Also I keep bringing up the subject of the vegan position on oral sex, but it keeps getting edited out of Smell & Quim interviews. Smell & Quim are prepared to keep a whole dressing room of groupies fed in this way for as long as it takes, to glean enough data to write a nutritional paper for the Surgeon General. Inventive recipes could ensue. Does the intake of the donor significantly affect the flavour of the semen? We could initiate tasting parties. I've heard of wine and cheese parties before. Also olive oil tastings and Balsamic vinegar tastings. I suppose that the connoisseurs would insist on spitting though, rather than swallowing. Would this mean they don't love us?

Many strange culinary concoctions exist in West Yorkshire. A little earlier I mentioned such from the concept of a hostile pan. We must also explore the magic of the foreign pan. We do in fact have slop of all denominations from all manners of gastronomic crucibles. Astute readers will have noticed how I slipped in a reference to Bombay Mix a while ago. This was in fact just a little appetizer or nibbler to arouse the tastebuds for the next section. For here we will go to Bradford, where many a mecca exists lurking around even the most unlikely corner. These can of course vary greatly in quality. Smell & Quim wouldn't want a visitor or tourist to stumble upon the likes of some rodent biriani or feces rogan josh. For indeed we are talking here of an Asian cuisine transported from the Indian Subcontinent. The magic of curry! Contrary to popular belief, the streets of Bradford are not populated by industrial bands recording street ambience on Walkmen. Rather, said noise-mongers are far more likely to be scarfing down chuppaties and curry in The Silver Jubilee or The Mumtaz. Smell & Quim most often frequent The Karachi where up until recent years Brain's Curry appeared on the menu. In fact, no visit to Bradford would be complete without a meal in The Karachi where a metal can full of steaming slurry can be acquired for a handful of loose change. Good Alien Penis Curry is a fine standby. Bindhi Bhaji, divine nectar with lumps. Gosht Karai in the company of colourful crazy friends is a good recommendation. Cheap and delicious. Then to initiate an orgy with copious libations of Gordon's Gin back at The Old Schloss. The exotic dream that is the Sweets Centre. Ahh! We need more alcohol!! We listen endlessly to Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Coleman Hawkins and Rolf Harris; and as we digest those tender morsels we can select the evening's soundtrack. A Fantasia of Earl Bostic, Lester Bowie and Thelonius Monk, and imagine what we will be playing in twenty years time when we're on in Reno or Lake Tahoe in some casino. Smell & Quim quite like lounge saxophone along with polka saxophone and Bavarian Oompah / Noise crossover is one to separate the men from the boys. One surefire way to fuck up record labels who think they're hip, like RRR and Tesco, is to always put lounge saxophone on your recordings. It is a method known as the "Spot the Goth Pussies" device. Ask Schimpfluch. They understand Oompah music, and so they should. They too are from retarded peasant stock like Smell & Quim. Our musics are just an interlude to voracious sexual intercourse and alcohol consumption. We all have bad backs from humping and kidney failure.

When not drinking beer, pastis or gin or red wine, Smell & Quim's favorite drink is the Bloody Mary, which I'm sure all you readers will know was invented when someone called Mary, under dark conditions, mistook a bunch of celery for a tampon at the time of her menstruational period. Effete, non-purists have substituted vodka and tomato juice for the real thing, thinking that a dash of Worcestershire Sauce or Tabasco will provide the required piquancy. Of course Worcestershire Sauce does contain anchovies, but Smell & Quim maintain that these these people have pussied-out on the thing. Our love of the Bloody Mary was the inspiration for the Smell & Quim Western song of that name, some lines of which include: