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Janis Ian - Stars

Aye, sorry about that. Normal Alf Poier service will be resumed as soon as we've got some new management in.

Must... not... grasp the throbbing rod of innuendo... I probably won't be out till near full-time, especially by the time I've got over from Goodge Street. That might be for the best though. Text me and let me know where you end up.

Down here, I assume? Tell me more, tell me more (like does it have a car?). Something to toast tonight through the football-induced depression, anyway.

No

Must we?

Yikes.

Redd Kross - Phaseshifter

Rob clearly still feeling guilty about that time he shackled his slaves and their wives and children in the basement of his mansion.

I think you mean "thingings", "gaggings" and "journalistings". I can do work

Is it The Sound Of Music?

$21bn or $28bn, $21bn or $28bn...

Not only is their workplace a horrible place to be right now, but they'll barely be able to get half what they paid for their garish mansions, the poor wee buggers.

Well I suppose we'd better find somewhere to watch the Spurs game on Wednesday. I'm at a recording of a moderately diverting Radio 4 thingummy earlier in the evening, but should be done in time for the gruesome denouement (as long we go somewhere central, anyway). Thoughts? Any other London-based folks fancy it, also? Our cool kid gang is cliquey as hell, but if you like pies, you're in.

Gaah, Jeff Probst.

This is not just any insult... this is a Magma insult.

No worries mate, no point in risking doing yourself some permanent damage. Besides, I'm planning on doing it next year (the run, that is, not permanent damage to my knee), so we can mince around the course together in gay abandon.

Yes.

Seriously I thought you actually had a brain, it appears not. You made a "general" comment that everything in the 80s was crap, I proved you and your argument wrong, now you quote shit polls and purposely miss my point about current technology. But that's ok because Bladerunner is cack. Fuck off. Mate, maybe you don't get the same kind of cobbled-together "talking head" shows we're fed in the name of entertainment over here. The whole point of them is that they're full of superficial analysis like that.

So does anyone remember sweets?

If you hadn't had such a crap night I'd be queeny-stropping at you for that.

Me too, but at least it's not a feature film.