Sinister: Isobel joins Orbital; renamed Sorbitol

[Michael Jones]

Hey !

Thanks to the Virgin sale, I finally have a copy of the Gecko Whores
record for less than 50p/min (I could call Gay Xchange for cheaper
than that).  It's lucky I have such a sweet tooth - much of it is
like ploughing through a big block of coconut ice, with extra
twinkling and froth.  If one suppresses the impulse to demand that
someone administer oxygen to the singer *and soon*, it's really a
pleasant frolic through a land where the grass is knee-high and
tulips whisper weather warnings to each other in the language of
ice-cream.  

Sorry, just lost my mind for a moment there.  

Occasionally meltingly pretty, which is just what I want right now. 
That, and coruscating digital filth.  The unexpected joyous scree of
accelerated Bo Diddley on "A Chapter In The Life..." damn near
loosened my foothold on the Tube this morning; I nearly sprawled
across two Metro-reading backpackers.  Which would violate my
probation.

William Messent said something about UK confectioners over-reaching
themselves.  Too true.  I think the BPI, being the standard-bearer
for all that is Good and Right about Britain, should intervene.  They
cracked down on 'limited-edition' double-choc Kit-Kats soon enough,
didn't they ?  How about a blanket ban on the sort of ruthless
exploitation of brand loyalty that has seen 55 different incarnations
of Smartie seep onto the market ?  I reckon only three types of any
particular sweet should count toward overall sales; and there should
be some guidelines in place regarding how far from the original brief
an item of confectionery can stray whilst still retaining its
identity.  I mean, those miniature orange Polos have less to do with
the GB's favourite annular breath-freshener than they do with those
Vitamin C tablets I was addicted to in the early 80s.  They know what
they're doing, the bastards.

Mr Miller - your tape(s) is/are almost on its/their way.  Though any
more of the g-word (especially in the collective noun sense) and I
might have to re-consider your status as competition winner.  You
still get the tapes, but the Bronze Fist Of Triumph stays here. 
Them's the rules.

I now owe the list such a backlog of ThaiFacts, that I might have to
start making them up.  Which would be wrong of me.  Especially as the
lovely Oon sent me a genuine Pissing Boy recently - anatomically
dubious though it was.  

Next time, I'll sort me head out and do it all proper, like.

Michael.
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