THESE days, buying records, actual vinyl, from Boots the well-known High Street chemist and purveyor of beauty products probably seems about as likely as the idea of buying, say, a vibrating cock-ring from Boots would have seemed 30 years ago.
But, of course, thanks to the unending onward and upward trajectory of civilisation, you can now buy vibrating cock-rings in Boots. Terrific. I’m glad. I am genuinely pleased that cock-ring enthusiasts are now catered for. I’m just disappointed that you can’t buy vinyl there anymore.
MUCH as we hate to admit it, blokes often develop what little musical taste we possess from hanging around with women.
We might bemoan their inability to put the right CD in the right fucking case, get all condescending about their blissful ignorance of the intricacies of Jah Wobble’s early career or straight take the piss out of their lamentable regard for Coldplay, but women tend to like stuff because they actually like it, not because it’s fashionable and they think they should. Unlike many blokes. Continue reading