And the dear boys who sold them to me, in Impulse at Liverpool Street, were so adorable! One looked like he styled himself on Mungo Jerrie (the band, not the cat) and the other was an archetypal mid-90s indie kid, and they spent the half-hour I was wandering round the shop chatting to each other about how much the country would benefit from getting the conservatives back in power. Odd, but very sweet.
I have also just finished Christopher Fowler's 'The Water Room', which, like everything else of his I've read, is one of the best things ever to grace the printed page. I now want to spend the next ten hours writing about London whilst simultaneously being aware that there's no point because I could never do it as well as he does. ~s~
Also this week's Popbitch digest has just arrived and brings us this :
"We were probably one of the ugliest boy bands to enter the pop world." - Antony from Blue.
And this :
>> Pony club pop stars <<
How not to be a working class hero
Pop music has always been a working class
profession: you can list the posh ones on one
hand... Charlie from Busted, Will Young,
Genesis... Now we can add the blonde one out
of 411. She's been told by her PRs that when
asked what her favourite hobby is, she should
stop saying "show-jumping".
Which explains a lot, really.