More Non-Stop Glamour. Or Something.

Note: some of the "facts" in this post may be spurious. Like you didn't know that already.

He may claim he's gone to St Ives to finish his novel, but I can exclusively reveal that James Henry is actually on a secret mission to West London, and will be providing live musical entertainment on Wednesday evening at the Crown & Anchor on Chiswick High Road. If I hadn't dropped my digital camera one too many times on to an unforgiving concrete surface I could provide photographic evidence of this, but as it is you'll just have to take my word for it.

Coincidentally, the Crown & Anchor was also the location of some high-level diplomatic dealings last night, when LC, our newest recruit Autoguy and I sorted out the Middle East Problem (although in fairness I should point out to the Nobel panel that my own contribution to the peace process was almost entirely limited to paying for the drinks) before sketching out an infrastructure for the fairer redistribution of wealth worldwide*. See, we're not just pretty faces in the world of high-tech copywriting.

In other news, the ever-glamorous Pashmina kindly sent me a copy of Zouk Nouvelle Vague's cover of Dead Kennedys punk classic "Too Drunk to Fuck". I was convinced that this was going to displace Lambchop's version of the Sisters of Mercy's "This Corrosion" as the Best Cover Ever, but I was oddly disappointed. Maybe it's just because it's not laidback enough, or maybe it's because it misses out this (quite charming) little stanza:

"You give me head, it makes it worse/Take out your fucking retainer, put it in your purse"

The second line of which mystified me for many years, before the advent of Friends and Frasier and their ilk taught me that "retainer" is what our American friends say for "brace", and "purse" is what they say for "handbag". But then, "Take out your fucking brace and put it in your handbag" doesn't really have quite the same snarly ring to it.

All this means that "Come Hell or High Water" by Barry Adamson may well remain my Song of the Week for an unprecedented third week, unless anyone has anything more fabulous to suggest?

Finally, it hasn't been escaping my attention that my birthday falls at the end of this coming week, and people keep asking what I'm doing to celebrate it. I did actually get invited to "hang out" with some middle-class rock stars, one of whose brother shares the same birthday, but I'm not sure that's what I should be doing at the grand old age of 35. Instead I think I'll go home, mope a bit, and read my Delia Smith book. It's about time I learned to boil an egg, after all.

* Almost forgot this snippet of conversation from last night:

AUTOGUY (who hails from LA and has only been in our fair land for a couple of months): Another thing I've noticed. You British say such disgusting things!

ME: Like what?

Pause while I brace myself for what is about to issue forth...

AUTOGUY: Like...'toilet'.