And if you've lost your faith in love and music... Wonderful. One of the lad's better stunts and certainly a mood-lifter after the JP news. See how mood-swingingly fickle I am?
We two read M's new play last night. I played a succession of teenage ragamuffins, which isn't easy for an elderly ragamuffin with no acting nouse. It is a very good piece of work and, as I fall by the wayside unable to finish my current piece of nonsense due to 'other commitments', I have faith that M will find a real home on the stage for her tale. The mini-ultra-minimalist performance - there was no set, we both played multiple parts, we lacked even the most basic of props - took place after we had each scoffed several vegetarian hot dogs. As I was eating my fourth, I became stricken with a panic and some twisted inner thought that had me believing that vegetarian hot dogs inflate after you've swallowed them. Sort of like a life raft. Irrational, I know, but my stomach appeared to be growing in front of my eyes. Then it dawned on me that, perhaps, I just eat too much. I have made amends today by bringing a banana to work. But I ate it at 11am and now wonder what I will eat for lunch.
Best of a badly recorded bunch at the arse end of Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads: The Delaney. That's that then, I no longer hear the music. Or I wouldn't if I could just stop playing the bleedin' stuff. But, alas, I fear that Carl Barat is John Squire. He has taken away our dream and left us with soddin' Razorlight. Oh to publicly burn those Seahorses recordings.
RIP John Peel. And that's all I can say, really. We all know what he did.
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