For those about to shop...
... Not even the sight of a bloke with a sock on his head, hiding his saucer-eyeness behind a set of Bolle safety glasses and trying not to look like a fat Marco Pantani can put them off running into the street in search of bargains.
Under my bloody bike wheels.
And the reason I'm unaccountably saucer-eyed is that I've just come back from the eye hospital with the news that at least one eyeball is finally having a proper go at exploding. Which, um. buggeration.
Anyway.
Modern SAABs seem to be driven by entire families of complete cocks. Let's hope that Mr. Spyker and his putative 92-emulation do as well as the revisited Mini and Fiat 500.
Watched that there Iron Maiden film on that there BBC4 last even. Jolly good stuff. Even if the entire band now look like Nigel Planer and walk like old man Steptoe. I'm never going to be a fan of that sort of thing, but it was strangely life-affirming to watch all that rock&roll malarkey run by and for the benefit of a bunch of geezers who would have seemed equally at home welding up Transits under a railway arch in Dalston. There are an awful lot of g*th bands who've borrowed wholesale from that lot, too.
Meanwhile.
Does Six-Music play anything other than drippy indie, old drippy indie and Gary bloody Crowley? The state of modern music is clearly not shite, because Warp keep sending me emails filled with mad things and there's this lot.
Perhaps I am the wrong demographic.
(I'm hoping that this overtraining hatefulness is at an end. We'll find out tomorrow when I can't get out of bed for the suicidal thoughts.)
Under my bloody bike wheels.
And the reason I'm unaccountably saucer-eyed is that I've just come back from the eye hospital with the news that at least one eyeball is finally having a proper go at exploding. Which, um. buggeration.
Anyway.
Modern SAABs seem to be driven by entire families of complete cocks. Let's hope that Mr. Spyker and his putative 92-emulation do as well as the revisited Mini and Fiat 500.
Watched that there Iron Maiden film on that there BBC4 last even. Jolly good stuff. Even if the entire band now look like Nigel Planer and walk like old man Steptoe. I'm never going to be a fan of that sort of thing, but it was strangely life-affirming to watch all that rock&roll malarkey run by and for the benefit of a bunch of geezers who would have seemed equally at home welding up Transits under a railway arch in Dalston. There are an awful lot of g*th bands who've borrowed wholesale from that lot, too.
Meanwhile.
Does Six-Music play anything other than drippy indie, old drippy indie and Gary bloody Crowley? The state of modern music is clearly not shite, because Warp keep sending me emails filled with mad things and there's this lot.
Perhaps I am the wrong demographic.
(I'm hoping that this overtraining hatefulness is at an end. We'll find out tomorrow when I can't get out of bed for the suicidal thoughts.)