It's been a bit of a week. Tired out. A lot of trauma sponging done. Am awash with angst and tears.
Toy bears - the forgotten emergency service. Because Raj Persaud won't always be there.
I did have some help. A big shout out to Mr Devandra Bernhart. We take back everything we said about you.
*cough - scary folk muppet - cough*
We take it all back. We bow down before you. First there was that photograph. And we've heard a couple of songs from the new album and they're ok. Quite good actually. No one's going to be injured in the stampede to turn the radio off if they get played.
(J'accuse Vashti Bunyan - my paw hasn't been right since the Great Turn-That-Off-Now! Disaster of 2006 - I don't care if you do have star children in your hair - keep it to yourself in future. Yours, a small crushed bear)
Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes. Drum roll, please! Ta da! Dress Up Devendra!
Is it just us? Are we just easily amused? Well, yes, but ...
More fun than the dress-up dolls in Twinkle .
Actually I quite liked "Twinkle". It was Madame who had spoil things and tell the lovely Grandma that She was a big, grown up girl now and "Twinkle" was for babies and big, grown up girls read "Smash Hits". Not "Bunty". "Bunty" was for stupid girly girls who played with, yuk, dolls.
Oooooooo. That's odd. I started out with a bloke in a spangly bra and here I am having a Proustian tea and cake moment.
I'm sorry. I am going to have to retire to my cork lined shoe box now. To contemplate my past.
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