Day 9: I Am Not Encouraged By New Musical Releases

This morning I went from Brixton to Highgate via Big Ben, Admiralty Arch, Nelson's Column and a load of busses on Tottenham Court Road. It was 6.30 so no-one was out (apart from strange men in little vans and wild-eyed advertising people in convertible TTs), and I listened to New Order, St Etienne and Belle and Sebastian, in that order, and it was brilliant, and all the lights were green and the sun was out.

On the way back, however, I saw something dark and it scared me. I saw a poster, and then I thought a twat of a record company man had a conversation with another record company man and it went like this.

Man 1: Time for a new Blunt.
Man 2: Surely not.
Man 1: Damn right. I've got a 3 week holiday in the Maldives to pay for and the little lady won't go less than 5 star.
Man 2: How is she?
Man 1: Having her tits done.
Man 2: Give her my best.
Man 1: Will do. Right, mate, listen to this. We take the typography of Blunt. We add the styling of Dylan and a smidge of Chris Martin, especially around the chin area. Then we pick a name out of a kid's book, preferably a classic. What do you get?
Man 2: This?









Man 1: You got it.
Man 2: We're gonna make a million.
Man 1: Lapsang Suchong?
Man 2: Don't mind if I do.