Take That: Progress
Problem is, I rang up Virgin Megastore and they said all the stuff that’s been released so far this year is shwack, so I said, “fine, just give me something from last year, no one will notice”.
So apparently this album is meant to be quite popular at the moment. Something about lots of sex and drugs and rock’n’roll.
Doesn’t sound like rock’n’roll to me. I listened to the first two seconds of the opening track, The Flood, and then I just chundered everywhere.
I probably need to stop doing that. Anyway, these boys can’t sing but they ain’t half handsome. Especially that dishy Gary fella. I bet he could take a bit of that.
A bit of my cock, that is. Oh, and then there’s Robbie. I’d let him entertain me. In my bed.
Sod it, I’ll listen to the second track, SOS. What’s the worst that can happen? Actually, it’s not too bad. I like the drum beat. Oh yeah.
Now I wonder who’s swinging those sticks? Well blow me, that would be Feeder drummer Karl Brazil. What are the odds? I mean, this kind of thing doesn’t just happen by chance.
Clearly, higher forces are at work here. How else can you explain the appearance of a Feeder drummer on an album chosen completely at random by my local record shop?
It must be because Karl fancies me. It’s the only logical, rationally thought-out conclusion to make from this fluke.
Karl, if you’re reading this, I’d like to make a proposal. You, me, a glass of scotch, two straws and a leather sofa. Tonight.
Hang on, my phone’s ringing. “What do you want, I’m in the middle of reviewing a fucking album, like you asked me to.
“It’s Take That. They’re new aren’t they? What? You want me to find the next big thing, the next Radiohead, Michael Jackson or Lady Gaga? Or else I get fired?
“But what about Feeder? Feeder. You know, the greatest band of all time. Well I care! Oh fine then, fire me. The Onion have been trying to sign me for months anyway.”
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