(no subject)

Painfully single American screenwriter says all British women are fat, frumpy, ugly, not obsessed enough about their appearance, unfriendly and dress like hookers. This being in The Times, most of the comments posted afterwards make Tad Safran appear to be moderate in his opinions.

Memeage

fuv zenith,

1. Go to the Wikipedia home page and click random article. That is your band's name.
2. Click random article again; that is your album name.
3. Click random article 15 more times (or however many times seems appropriate for your band); those are the tracks on your album.

My band is called Sidford. Oh dear, this is all going a bit Ocean Colour Scene...

My album is called Education, Audiovisual and Culture Executive Agency. I'm going to ignore the Preston School of Industry and think of The Fall instead. Gritty tales of twenty-somethings going slowly mad, that's my bag.

Track One. Coming Into Force Rock! Big start, with a song about a 'man' who doesn't let 'yes men' and 'advertising sheeple' get him down. The downside is that a former NME journo heckles me in the papers for trying to be The Verve. Bastard.

Track Two. Dordoy Bazaar Is it a clever song about the increasing Russian influence on British football, or is it two arseholes fighting in a sack? You can guess, but only I know.

Track Three. Sir John Wallace. Think Tracey Jacks fighting a Cyberman. In a quarry. With spoons.

Track Four. Đurđevi Stupovi. I'm really, really sorry. There is just no excuse for this.

Track Five. Philomena. You know how that Greek girl is really pissed off about Common People? Philomena is going to kill me when she hears this.

Track Six. Clarendon Entertainment Back when I first came up with the idea for this album it was going to be set at this fictional firm called 'Clarendon Entertainment' and was going to be full of muggers, rapists and paedophiles from the management down. After this grotesque seven minute masterpiece I got bored and wrote songs about cheese instead.

Track Seven. 2010 Olympic Village Don't be fooled by the title, it's really a vicious song about feta.

Track Eight. Na tragu istine This is the Croatian for 'Who ate all the cheese?'

Track Nine. Manaia Everyone has got a prog track in them and this one is mine.

Track Ten Witr I've got a copy of Horses: and I'm not afraid to use it. My closing ten minute epic based around whatever Islamic samples I think I can use without getting a fatwa slapped on me by either Iran or Brian Eno and David Byrne. The guitars and drums fade in and out while I potter around the studio doing the hoovering.

Reviews were mixed. Simon Price was busy dying his hair like a much younger man, The Sun gave it 'two thumbs up!' and the reviewer from The Times applauded it's 'bold iconoclastic vision of the dark heart of the British streets' because otherwise he wouldn't see his family again. The Crazy Frog remix of Đurđevi Stupovi went to number one on the hit parade for ten weeks because my Mum went out and bought a copy of the single. Our keyboard player left the band after it was revealed that he was an actual lizard rather than cool and our guitar player started growing his facial hair like George Harrison in the early Seventies because he was incredibly stupid. The band nearly split up after I caused a furore by claiming the band were bigger than cheetas and wishing that Noel Gallagher would get 'a really painful athletes foot infection'.

We're currently working on our sixth 'tricky' album. What's especially tricky is that we can't remember what we did with albums two to five.