The Moon
Welcome to the the official sports pages of electronic music. Going where no man has gone before, eh? If he’s not careful our unhinged columnist will be queuing up where lots of people have been before – the dole office
Lifeboat
All aboard for another wild wordy ride with our, what do call it? Oh yes, columnist. There are sick bags under your seats should they be required
HMV
Blah blah blah, part-time columnist blah blah filing copy late blah blah rattling on about something or other blah blah haven’t really read it blah blah is it any good this month?
Attack, Decay, Sustain, Release
Say there was someone, and He (or she) was sending us weird rambling emails And despite asking, he (or she) wouldn’t stop. We should call the police, Right? Anyway, here’s whatshisface
I’m no Adonis
It had to happen, our wotnot columnist person has been unleashed, let into the real world to talk out loud. To other people. Maybe you should go see him. We can’t, we’re washing the office that day
Scotch Eggs
Deluded, misguided, ill-informed, flawed, confused, and for the most part, barking up the wrong tree. Oh, sorry Fats, opened A letter addressed to you by mistake. It’s from your doctor…
I ate the dog
Starting 2018 as he means to go on, Our columinst has been working hard on his late copy excuses. This month: “my column is late, I ate the dog”
Drizzled with sizzling techno
“It’s Christmas time and there’s no need to be afraid”, goes the song. Thing is, it’s when our loose cannon of columnist is at his most dangerous…
Madchester
A man who can’t understand that disco biscuits and chocolate biscuits aren’t quite the same thing, our… what’s that? He’s done it again, hasn’t he?
A Dog Ate My Fingers
Like a Rat up drainpipe, our columnist is as naked as a Jaybird and proud as a Peacock… he’s a sitting Duck. let sleeping Dogs lie. look, it’s complicated