Secret Agnes.

I wanna refund! or

La la la, in the midnight hour La la la, I will come to you, I will come to you I will take you from this sickness Dinner parties and champagne I'll hold your body and make it sing again


If you can stand I'd like to take you by the hand And go for a walk Past the people as they go for a walk


The room is cold and has been like this for several months If I close my eyes I can visualise everything in it right down Right down to the broken handle on the third drawer down of the dressing table And the world outside this room has also assumed a familiar shape The same events stuffed in a slightly different order each day Just like a modern shopping centre And it's so cold - yeah it's so cold And as I'm standing across this room I feel as if my whole life has been leading to this one moment And as I touch your shoulder tonight this room has become the centre of the entire universe So what do I do? I've got a slightly sick feeling in my stomach Like I'm standing on top of a very high building oh yeah All the stuff they tell you about in the movies but this isn't chocolate boxes and roses It's dirtier than that Like some small animal that only comes out at night And I see flashes of the shape of your breasts and the curve of your belly And they make me have to sit down and catch my breath It's so cold yeah, it's so cold What is this feeling called love? Why me, why you, why here, why now? It doesn't make no sense It's not convenient It doesn't fit my plans It's something I don't understand F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A. double L.E.D. L.O.V.E. Oh what is this thing that is happening to me Oh. What is this feeling called love Why me? Why you? Why here? And why now? It doesn't make no sense no. It's not convenient no It doesn't fit my plans but I got that taste in my mouth again

Come on! Jarvis Cocker RULES! I am having quite a Pulp renaissance. I totally loved Pulp back in '94. They make even more sense now I am not a virgin and I escaped my first cage.

But still, I have been in the gym four out of five days this week, which I would hardly have approved of back then. I grew tits! DOOSH! Now they hurt. I had to take a day off yesterday because of this, but then it was a very productive day. James Brown set me some music in the morning, and I wrote a song to one particularly resonant piece. Then Narstie came over and we did some catching up and I had a spliff, which hardly ever happens these days. Narstie got DRUNK! I had to walk him to the train station, and we got harassed by teenagers who'd seen him on Channel U and thought I was wearing a wig. I must say, the people who stop me in the street are a lot less demanding than Narstie's peoples, who demand "showcases", and follow you all the way up Stamford Hill sucking your soul away with video camera phones. Then Dego appeared, in a strange mood and pretty T Shirt, with an old friend of his, then they went and were swiftly replaced by Bashy, who I haven't seen in AGES, and that was lovely. He's developed a new persona, who croons, which I fully approve of. He was also not wearing any loud colours, which was initially disconcerting. The music industry has been having a go at destroying his love for the pure art of sound, but we had a good chat and he's all invigorated again. Plus we are gonna make a conceptual song that will make a mockery of pretty much everything, so there with a bright red hat on top.

Did you see the front pages of the tabloids yesterday? Apparently those two 12 years olds who murdered 10 year old Damilola Taylor are "LAWLESS SAVAGES". So two black kids, the product of poverty and a pitiful education are "LAWLESS SAVAGES" (nice subtle racism there), but what of the mad-eyed Blair? How many 10 year olds you think he's killed this week? Hmm? Does thinking this way make me "weird"? Are they going to find child porn in my PC? You think?

"So, if the plot was foiled, why was the terror alert raised? That in itself tells me everything I need to know." Sunny

The crawl on MSNBC Thursday night read Terror in the Sky... There is no terror in the sky, unless you're Iraqi or Lebanese, or reside in northern Israel or any of the world's other free-fire zones and might expect to see death fall from it. Or unless we can include the sky itself, churning with strange weather and unwholesome artifacts, and a sun that now seems to burn an alien white. Because if we look up, we may just catch our breath.

"Weeks before September 11th, this is going to play big," boasts a naturally unnamed White House official in the AFP story "Bush Seeks Political Gains from Foiled Plot." Bush and Blair conferred last weekend on the "imminent attack" (though neither man was sufficiently moved to break off their vacations), and the White House tooled its response to Joe Lieberman's defeat at the hands of a "far left" cut 'n runner accordingly. The thwarting of the plot (with a man inside, as is the custom in plots both thwarted and unthwarted) became itself a time bomb, rigged to detonate in the faces of populist leaders who even modestly reflect the now conventional wisdom that the war is an abject failure (at least according to how failure is conventionally understood). This would be a reminder and an example that the threat is real, though the threat was no less real - and possibly more real - when Bojinka was foiled in 1995. Jeff Wells

Oi, dickheads - you may have worse approval ratings than God during the Great Flood, but don't think trying to scare the shit out of us with crazy airport plots is going to change that in the slightest. And how dare you tell me I can't take a book on an aeroplane, and that my sisters have to carry about their tampons in see through plastic bags, you fucking monsters? WE ARE PEOPLE! We are not "useless feeders" (cheers Henry Kissinger") and we are not "CIVILIANS" neither! We are PEOPLE, and you are babyraping scum, and the world is ours, not yours. We will stomp you like lab rats, and dance in the entrails. We will use your bones as percussion instruments. Yes, there is a fire coming, but it is you that will burn. Your nightmares will last for ever, but we will wake from ours, and when we do... we will still be able to FLY.

Serious as fuck.