Don't say it's useless and don't say forget it
A couple of months ago, I came home from a working holiday in England. I never really liked being there, probably because I lived near Crawley, home of Robert Smith and the highest teen pregnancy rate in Britain. It wasn't really as much England as a little piece of Eastern Europe where you happened to speak the language. So I don't really miss it much. Except when I wear stilettos; I'm sick and tired of the cobbled streets of Denmark, they're ruining my shoes so just pour some asphalt over them (the streets, not my shoes) already!
Close-ish to Crawley is Haywards Heath where Brett Anderson grew up. Brett Anderson has cleverly decided to get back together with Bernard Butler to make music. I refuse to get excited about this, because if I do, I can tell already now that whatever comes out of that cooperation will be immensely disappointing. However, you can see pictures from the studio here (via Frekvens). I never knew Brett had such hairy arms!
And speaking of people breaking up, these two are getting a divorce. I'm pretty unbothered, especially seeing as I'm a republican, but I do look forward to an explanation as to why they're both moving in with their ex-in-laws. Is it just that other people's parents always seem a bit nicer and normal than your own, or what?
I never liked that woman anyway. Had they been dysfunctional in a more normal way, I promise you that she'd been dragging him around IKEA, screaming "Joachim! We need more beige!".
Anyway, I'll be leaving for home now, hoping that my Kasabian-album has arrived!