Not much time to write, but I wanted to mention last night's Cassetteboy Gig (Put on by the Pedestrian people). While clearly the dystopic cut-up comedy trip-hop doesn't really lend itself to a live experience, by leaning towards performance it worked beautifully. While it'll be easier to recall the image of a man in a George Bush forcibly pushing a man in a Tony Blair mask towards his crotch, while old Tone playfully performs fellatio, what actually sticks in the mind is the DJ at the back. In a terrorist balaclava, beer-gut beneath a "BARRY" T-shirt and boredly smoking fags.

Of course, I'm guaranteed to be on a CIA list for turning up to the gig now, but fuck it. It's not like I didn't want a death-squad of my very own anyway.

And managed to meet another of the Careless Talk writers. Which leads to the following question: How come everyone who writes for Careless Talk is attractive? It's meant to be outsider music. Where are all the outsiders. Bunch of pretty fucks. If it wasn't for dependable ugly-mug Houghton, I'd end up feeling somewhat insecure.

Just finished putting together the first episode - or prologue, to be precise - for the "thing" I'm working on for the relaunch of Jim's Big Robot. When it goes live I'll talk a little more about it - it's essentially experimental comics work leaning towards the improvisational, social literature end of the scale. Serious work, but minor in intent. The site is meant to launch tomorrow, but it'll almost certainly hit a last minute delay in the way these things do, but may be worth checking. I'll update when it does.

Finally, I point you in the direction of this MP3 by The Capricorns, which a friend pointed me towards a week ago and I've only just realised is a stroke of genius. Some of my favourite things are found herein. It's Bis with a Sleater-Kinney-vocal-flow which captures the hysteria of the pop-love, cramming too many words into too small a space because you've got so much to say and you realise that you could rip assunder any second.