Swell were one of the first bands I went to see. I was seventeen and went on the TRAIN to LONDON and it was at the BORDERLINE which I thought was WEIRD. Pretty sure I cried because I thought they were singing FOR ME.
Not much changes although on the plus side I have mastered peroxide since the days of buying box dye and wondering why my hair was orange. Progression is: spending so long in Sallys squealing at colour swatches that your card-carrying friend tells you it is ‘unprofessional’. Looking professional: over-rated.
The Soundtrack To My Minxing
If you are a devotee of the Becky Sharp school of minxery / have read every single one of Katie Price’s FIVE autobiographies / believe that the best way to display love is to poke the object of your affections with a stick (metaphorically, conversationally, during The Sex, by email, through the medium of quizzical looks, general pisstakery ETC) then this should be your soundtrack. It’s got the tippy toes a-creeping and the best bass brass.
Isn’t it weird how behavioural advertising companies cannot get it together to have an opt-out function that ever, ackfing works?
I mean, usually they are so scrupulous at making sure I see the exact pair of pants I once looked at on M&S until I am sick of them (‘I am sick of these pants’); and after all, they work so tirelessly to make sure that my advertising experience is meaningful, valuable and tailored to my interests.
Searching Kickstarter Turns Me Tebbit-y
Case in point:
Obviously this is enough to provoke a person to check Whois and see if c*ntstarter.com is free.
It isn’t :(
The internet really, really wants me to have a bigger penis. And obviously it is very important that I clear out my spam folder right now - even though I am on a deadline. Because hey man, that shit is not going to clear out itself.