Sunday, October 19, 2003

The greatest band in the world, Suede, release their Singles album tomorrow. On Tuesday, they're playing a free gig at HMV in Oxford Street, and to get tickets you have to be one of the first 150 people to buy the CD at that store tomorrow. So I'll be there, along with all the other, ahem, beautiful ones show, show, showing it off and shaking their meat to the beat, feeling somewhat like the litter on the breeze and sheltering from the nuclear sky. Actually, it'll probably be just me. Maybe Brett Anderson will be there to personally greet me and sign my copy. Or maybe there'll be massive queues, like in that U2 video when they played on that rooftop, the traffic snarled up and the cops mildly perturbed because of ROCK N ROLL! Phew!

Syd keeps trying to bite my toes. How sweet. I almost wrote a Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells grumble to the BBC this week ('Come on BBC...') because they broadcast a programme that showed little boys beating rats to death with sticks and presenting this as if the kids were not future serial killers but, in fact, lovable little blighters. They then presented rat fanciers as looney nutters who should be locked up and spat on for being slightly different. Ooh, it made me angry.

Talking of the Beeb, still no news about Killing Cupid. And still talking of the BBC, they announced the Big Read top 21 yesterday. No Secret History. I've read 8 of the books - I guess that's not bad going. I've voted for Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. But everyone knows Lord of the Rings will win, with Harry Potter in second place. Or there could be a huge shock, with Harry winning and Tolkien coming second. God, the tension is too much.

I just had an apocalyptic experience while walking to Blockbuster. Which isn't the kind of sentence you get to write every day. There were hundreds of small birds - starlings or sparrows, maybe - swooping into a single tree in the town centre. I walked beneath the branches and looked up: there was a swarm of them, their combined voices drowning out the passing cars. Well spooky. It was like being in that Hitchcock movie. Then they flew down and, taking hold of my clothes, lifted me into the air, carrying me high above the houses and away, through the clouds, to a faraway land where humans, birds and small hooded rats lived together in harmony, listening to Suede records.

Alright, I made that last bit up.