I needed distraction. Head just WILL NOT SHUT THE FUCK UP. Started a film. No good. Looked at the huge pile of books I've amassed recently. Montaigne? Too highbrow. Conor McCarthy? Too grim. Lovecraft? Too dark. Magnus Mills? Too freaky. And there, lurking at the bottom of the pile, was a book I'd been lent by a lovely man, who had insisted I would enjoy it and find it highly amusing. Hmmm. Now, I trust this chap, he's clever and has a mutual love of all things musical, but I'd dismissed it, mainly due to the word Britpop in the title. No. No. No.
I dusted it off, opened it up and thought "so, if I read a random bit, right near the front, and it can draw me in, then OK, I'll give it a bash". I opened it up at:
Prologue
Is it ever right to strike a dwarf?
Well, that's that. I'm in. And it was the funniest prologue I've read in a book for ages. Ever, perhaps. Chortles, guffaws - I've given in to the whole chuckle gamut (this must be the thing people call LOL). Superlative swearing, posturing and an obscenely hilarious onstage dwarf incident.
I've had absolutely no urge to write about anything for the last few weeks - so thank you, Luke Haines. Thank you, from the very bottom of my miserable black heart.
