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Close encounters of the famous kind

Moby & JLS: not destined to share a stage any time soon.
Moby & JLS: not destined to share a stage any time soon.

In my line of work I meet a lot of famous people: some blessed with tickly nearly-fame, others with sharp, pointy, face-splitting notoriety. Some who you’d walk past in the street without even noticing, some who you’d stop and think ‘now where do I know him from… was he the guy who pissed in Sharon’s salad? No, not him…’ In the last two days, for instance, I’ve stood next to the curly-haired one from JLS (wispy fame); spoken to the dark-haired half of Groove Armada (anonymous mega-fame) and sat in a plush hotel room in Marylebone with musical miserablist Moby (gargantuan fame). I know that Moby is certainly the most famous, because when I told my oldest sister she’d heard of him. She’d also just been introduced to the Black Eyed Peas that day by her students and thought their lyrics “interesting” and songs “catchy”. If I’d taken afternoon tea with will.i.am and Fergie, she’d have been majorly impressed, as opposed to the tiny yelp she allowed herself at the mention of every ad exec’s dream collaborator…


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Festival Withdrawal

glastonbury

So in my dayjob as a music journalist, I’ve been writing miles of copy about festivals – seeing bands, drinking cider from paper cups, having your tent blown away in a huge gust of piss, that sort of thing. And then it suddenly occurred to me that I really should have remembered to blag/buy a ticket to at least one this year. Fail.
Read more Festival Withdrawal

Festival Withdrawal

glastonbury

So in my dayjob as a music journalist, I’ve been writing miles of copy about festivals – seeing bands, drinking cider from paper cups, having your tent blown away in a huge gust of piss, that sort of thing. And then it suddenly occurred to me that I really should have remembered to blag/buy a ticket to at least one this year. Fail.
Read more Festival Withdrawal

Me, me, me!

me!

Evening then. Welcome to my new website, resplendent in red and black like a freshly laundered hooker. Let me set the scene for you. I’m sitting in my lounge, Scrubs is on the telly, the clouds outside are apathetically grey and there’s a crow sitting on the fence that keeps tilting its head at me. When I say sitting on the fence, I literally mean that – it’s not an indecisive crow.
Anyhow, for my first post I’ve decided to complete a bunch of sentences for your amusement. Here goes…
Read more Me, me, me!