Sinister: And I will wear a badge to show my delight

[Madeleine McNeil]

So, our favourite wandring mistrels are taking themselves to Glastonbury to 
spread a little love. Hmmm. I wonder who will be dedicated and hardy enough 
to follow them? Not I, for one. If you're going, do remember to pack hat, 
scarf, super noodles, contraceptive devices various and sherry. It's a 
jungle out there, kids.

There has been much Reporting Back of gigs. I went to the Manchester show 
with my sister (not a fan, found the tweeness amusing), her fellow and 
Daveylicious, ex-sinister and member of the East Midlands Massive. It was 
good, but not that good, certainly not as good as when I saw them last 
summer. It was quiet, but then again, I was standing near the bar, at the 
back. I felt rather disconnected from it, but that's a churlish thing to 
complain of.

The thing that really did piss me off was some ugly drunken hecklers 
standing next to me, shouting and generally making spanners of themselves. 
(And if you're on the list, I'm not sorry, you were a pain in the arse). I 
don't get it. Why do people spend quite a considerable amount of money to 
see a band and then spend the night drunk and abusive? No one's asking you 
to be there, drunk hecklers! No one's forcing you to shell out fifteen quid 
for a band you hate!

I shall soon be joining the ranks of bookshop girls, as I have recently 
conned someone into employing me in his second hand bookshop. It has very 
few customers and smells funny. Great. My signature scent will become the 
odour of musty, well-loved old books and I will attract handsome clever boys 
and girls for whom this smell is an aphrodisiac. I can't harldly wait. It's 
the job I've always wanted, although I have recently been turning my sights 
toward long distance lorry driving. All that time alone to listen to records 
and audio books and all that huge lack of people. (was that a sentence, or 
was it butchery of the English language?).

Question. Can the Americans amongst us please explain, in full lurid detail 
(or charming euphemism if you wish) what exactly first, second and third 
base are? I mean, I do know generally, but I want specifics. If someone 
sticks their hand up my top, what baseball euphemism would I use to describe 
it, if I were so inclined? Is there fourth base, or does it go to home run 
after third base? I am eager for knowledge.

I have recently been extending my repetoire of places frequented on a night 
out. I have been gay clubbing, pretentious indie clubbing, down to earth 
indie clubbing and goth clubbing. All have been very amusing, but not for 
the right reasons, I'm sure. Clubbing either makes me feel like a teenager 
again, or like a slightly uncool auntie at a wedding. I always seem to miss 
the mark.

Speaking of Marks, well done to Big Gay Mark C, on recent employment. A G&T 
to you next time we meet.

Cheerio, petals.

Madeleine xxxx

PS I've been reliably informed that the 'I HEART KEN CHU' badges were my 
idea. Ooops. Sorry. I never thought I'd be in any way responsible for mass 
maths teacher worship.





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