In the name of procrastination I'm coming out....

Dear Sirs,


I would like to bring it to your immediate attention that I am current supposed to be writing the screenplay for the music video that I have to make this month. Whilst allegedly performing such an action several things have come to mind that are a) far more important and b) far more exciting than actually sitting down and doing the one thing I'm supposed to be doing.


No it's not the second pre election debate that's happening tonight. Although I have, of course, been enthused to the point of explosion by BBC News 24's riveting coverage of the door to the hall in which the debates are happening later on - coupled with bemused members of staff walking through it and a really pissed off looking journalist whittering to camera about what colour the ties might be this evening.


Nor am I writing to rant about the two billboards that I pass on the way to work each day, the first advertising clothing and featuring a woman so emaciated that I want to run into the poster (in the style of Aha's Take On Me video) in order to wrap a blanket around the poor soul and hand her a large brownie, or the poster advertising dirty shampoo for filthy flaky scalped perverts featuring, yours and my favourite, the saucy nurse (I'm sure we'll find a record number of applications to study nursing as a result)


Or EVEN the fact that while we sleep soundly in our beds tonight Nick Clegg is apparently going to steal all of the babies in Christendom and feed them to illegal immigrants, along with our jobs, our women, our swans and any books that we were in the middle of, that were just getting to the good bit and we'll never remember to buy again.


No dear sirs, it is none of the above. I, instead, have become fixated by the contents of my iTunes.


It may have come to the attention of some of the readers of this blog that I am something of a music lover. I may also appear to have certain viewpoints that I might occasionally champion, perhaps at times of extreme drunkenness, perhaps about jazz, or prog, or rubbish Camden pseudo indie played by twelve year old berks with rubbish hair and bad jeans. Perhaps these outburst may be coupled with shouting, jeering laughter and the words "your arse". Maybe even the assertion that my views are entirely correct ALL THE TIME.


Well for all of you who might have found yourselves at the other end of my infinite wisdom, here is a small reprieve. I looked at the "most played" tracks list on my ipod the other day to find the following list. Here it is:




5. Doctors Orders by Carol Douglas
4. Winding Road by Bonnie Sommerville
3. chick Habit by April March
2. Never Ever by All Saints
1. Paparazzi by Lady Gaga


I'm standing by numbers 5 to 3. Carol Douglas is a disco queen, Sommerville's song is slushy and slightly embarrassing and Chick Habit damn well rocks. However, I am here to confess to you all today that I am, apparently, a pop bitch. I have now come out.


I trust no one will ever mention this again.


Yours Sincerely, 
Ms Tommy Lassoo