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Nosmo v Kris B
For more information about Nightshade Music founders Nosmo and
Kris B, please visit their website nosmovkrisb.com.
Do you enjoy eating hot dogs? I hope you won't be put off by my
frankness when I tell you that I absolutely love them. In fact, I enjoy
no food item more than a freshly-boiled hot dog. Now, I've done a lot
of movies, and it's true that I've worked with quite a few celebrities
who did not share this opinion. I'm sorry to say that these people have
always angered me.
There are two types of people in this world: those who eat hot dogs
whenever it is possible to do so, and those who opt to do other things
with their free time. Who do the latter think they are kidding? What
pastime could be more rewarding than the consumption of hot dogs? I
haven't yet found one, and I don't expect to in my lifetime. Unlike
other foods, hot dogs can be eaten at any time, in any place, and it is
not necessary to cook them. Now, I ask you: Why not eat hot dogs? They
are delicious.
I carry a bag of hot dogs with me wherever I go. I eat them from the
bag whenever I get the urge, regardless of the circumstances. When I
make a movie, my hot dogs are my co-stars. If, in the middle of a
scene, I decide I want to consume a hot dog, I do so. I waste the
director's time and thousands of dollars in film stock, but in the end,
it is all worth it, because I enjoy eating hot dogs more than I enjoy
acting. This bothers some people. I was supposed to portray Batman, but
when Tim Burton learned of my hot dog cravings, he asked Michael Keaton
to wear the cape. To this day, I am peeved about this.
When we filmed The Dead Zone, I ate over 800 hot dogs a day. It was
necessary. My character needed to come across as intense as possible,
and I found the inspiration for that intensity in my intense love for
hot dogs. The director, David Cronenberg, said that he would never work
with me again. I kept eating hot dogs when the cameras were rolling,
and that seemed to bother him. I say [expletive deleted] him. He
doesn't even like hot dogs.
I would like to end by emphasizing once again that I really like to eat
hot dogs. If any of you people disagree, I loathe you. I despise you.
Not only that, but I also despise all your loved ones. I want to see
them torn to pieces by wild dogs. If I ever meet you in person, I'll
smash your brains in with a [expletive deleted] bat. Then we'll see who
doesn't like hot dogs.
There he goes... one of God's own prototypes. A
high-powered mutant of
some kind never even considered for mass production. Too
weird to
live, and too rare to die.
Picture the scene. Wednesday morning in the Volley. Me and
Tommy are
playing pool. No problems, and I'm playing like Paul fucking Newman by
the way. I'm giving the boy here the tanning of a lifetime. So anyway,
it comes to the final ball, the deciding shot of the whole tournament:
I'm on the black and he's sitting in the corner, looking all
biscuit-arsed. Then this hard cunt comes in. Obviously fancied himself.
Starts staring at me. Right fucking at me. Trying to put off, like,
just for kicks. Looking at me as if to say, 'Come ahead, square go.'
Well, you know me, I'm not the type of cunt who goes looking for
trouble. But at the end of the day I'm the cunt with the pool cue and
he can get the fat end in his puss anytime he likes, like. So I squared
up, casual like. So what does he do, the hard cunt? Or so-called hard
cunt? Shites it. Puts down his drink, turns around and gets the fuck
out of there. And after that, well... the game was mine.
