which kind of sounds as though I’m pissed but I’m so completely not!
And so the snow spreads beyond London village.
Snowploughs out on the A40 at 05.40. Three cars at crazy angles in hedges.
The season of the twat driver is upon us.
Even now, we’re gently meandering down the M40 at… umm… about 45… Even now the twats are still upon us.
Overtaking in their snow-covered cars. It’s easy to imagine the drivers peering through the snow-cleared slits of their windscreens like some kind of First World War artilleryman in the trenches.
Revise my speed downwards. The speed limit signs are illuminated at 40mph.
And that white van has just cruised past us at maybe 55mph.
Anyway, arseholes aside, it’s an interesting view of the world.
I find myself very excited by this unexpected whiteness.
It’s the schoolboy in me.
Why, mummy, is that car all covered in snow? And why is it on the motorway mummy? Does the driver think that if she or he clears all the snow off the car *before* they start the journey, it won’t go as well as if it is covered in snow? Huh huh huh?
Sorry, I’ll put the schoolboy down for a couple of minutes.
This morning my first meeting is in Victoria. My second is in Southwark. My third is in Greenwich. My fourth is in a different building in Westminster and afterwards I am to spend the rest of the day incarcerated in my office in a different building in Westminster.
The joys of a typical working day made significantly brighter by a simple coating of white.
Except disappointment looms.
The closer we get to London the less deep, crisp and even is the whiteness. This firmly implies that by the time we get in to Central London Village the snow will be all gone.
This might explain why the rest of the country heard sweet Felicity Arkwright from the BBC about snow this morning. Because as we all know, if something doesn’t happen in London then it doesn’t happen; it vanishes in to some kind of Orwellian Room 101, a non-place where non-things erm non-happen.
No bitterness there. As you can tell.
I’ll sing my heart out tonight
To a black sky under a street light
You’ll cry your eyes out tonight
Over something that was never really anything at all
Whoa!!! Slow down Leigh. I can’t transcribe as quickly as you can get the lyrics out!
We’ll make our beds lying down…
Soddit. I can’t keep up with his vocal.
Ladies and gentlemen… I give you one of the two new tracks by The Razorbax.
And I challenge you to not tap your feet while you listen to Tonight or the other new song Shooting Stars
There really is no justice in the world. The Razorbax; four immensely talented, capable, hard-rockin’ young lads who write their own material and get out and gig… get no media recognition whilst manufactured, talentless, semi-conscious, plastic, anodyne, personality-transplanted bimbo-esque karaoke acts like Rhianna get acres of column inches (fnarr!) and more television and radio exposure than all of the starving millions in the third world.
Justice sadly lacking.
I’ve been sent an album to review for an Eastern-European guitarist.
He’s a kind of Ukrainian Mark Knopfler with a multi-track fetish and a taste for flourish where basics might be more appropriate.
So you want me to say he’s absolutely rubbish?
He’s the best solo musician I think I’ve *ever* listened to, and I’ve been listening to musicians of all numbers for too many decades to be entirely comfortable with.
The trouble is, no matter how favourably I review his album and no matter where the review gets published (hello NME!), the sad fact is this guy, this Ukrainian wunderkind of the plank-spanking world… he is so completely unlikely to cut it in this country.
Maybe Germany. And a handful of Eastern states. But make it in the UK – the home of the largest music-spending public in Europe?
Because we can’t even pronounce his name.
So the mainstream media will continue to throw Rhianna at us and the boys and girls who know no better will continue to lap it up like cats from saucers of just-about-going-off cream.
Anyway, Leigh, Louis (who is the hardest working drummer I’ve seen live since…. Muse at the NEC 18 months ago), Jack and James are done.
And the next track up on iTunes is…
Holy Moly! It’s Muse (Time is Running Out).
Karma, my friends.
It – unlike justice – exists.