Frank Booth is gonna get you, neighbor.

I named mine Pinkie. Any street’ll do with that.

They should get Duran Duran to record the soundtrack. They’ve already done one Space Riders:

We have shite, too.

I heard you won’t get into the Big Brother house if you don’t say it at last once in your interview. And it must include a finger wag.

She is appropriating your culture. We don’t have pop tarts here, unless on import.

There was a local band here with that name but they were boys. And only two of them were tarts.

You’re hilarious, like the 70s.

An apple (arf) appears to have fallen far from the tree:

I don’t believe it
There she goes again
She’s tidied up and I can’t find anything
All my tubes and wires and careful notes
And antiquated notions!

If you line up the residencies on The Voice UK, they’re the bread of a Kylie sandwich.

Also works for bands.

Girlfriend on the shoulders is never okay. I’m over 6’ tall and sit in the back row of cinemas so as not to bother anybody, even when it’s quiet. I hate festivals anyway but those are the people I hope the flying can of piss strikes.

I suppose it’s the modern equiv of reggaefying a non-reggae song, which used to be a thing and “led” to some true awfulness:

So like KT Tunstall then?

George Orwell said there are two places the public should never see: the kitchen of a good restaurant and the laundry of a hospital. I’d add the recording studio of their fave rock bands to that. There are none so deluded as rock fans when talking about talent and there is no greater cover for a lack of talent than…

At a success rate roughly equivalent to the standard music business route of Monday night triple bill showcase in the local dive attended by drunken cokehead A&R person, who hands out restrictive contracts to bands who sound just like the latest Big Rock Thing, while declaring that he’s looking for the Next Big Rock…

It is also my fave. We are oddities but I don’t get the fuss over Ziggy Stardust at all.

Stay your tears, poor folk still have double tracking.