WARNING: Balustrade are TOO sexy

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to September.
Today is Wednesday September 1st 2004, and as I write, I’ve just received word that Balustrade are to meet this evening for a practice session. I caught up with Lord Lexington of Tinkerville on the phone just ten minutes ago to get all the latest news from the lads.

Balustrade HQ: Hello? Hello? Can I speak to Lex please?
Angry Woman: Leave me alone!
BHQ:… Sorry… wrong number…
(dials 118 118)
Bored Geordie: What number?
BHQ: I need the number for Balustrade, please.
BG: Balustrade? The pioneering masters of alt.westcountry, savious of the music industry?
BHQ: Yes, the very same
BG: That number is 01225 ******** (the guys don’t want to be inundated)
BHQ: Ta
(dials 01225 ******)
Lex: Hello
BHQ: Ah! At last! Lexington! How the devil are you?
Lex: Oh. It’s you. Not bad. Is this going to take long?
BHQ: Song brewing?
Lex: No. Neighbours is on.
BHQ: I won’t keep you long then. You guys have been pretty quiet over recent weeks. Anything goingon?
Lex: Well, we’ve just got back from the V festival in Chelmsford, and it certainly was an inspiring event.
BHQ: WTF?? You ain’t going to go down a turgid lad-rock vein like Athlete, Snow Patrol or the devil’s own Keane are you?
Lex: No! Carts is turning into Black Francis from Pixies…
BHQ: On a diet, is he?
Lex:… and I’ve decided to follow the fashion advice of Pink. I’m sitting here now, in front of the telly in tight black hotpants, a push-up bra and a funky pair of earings. Oh, and I’m also sporting a fine pair of slag-wellies make from purest chav-skin. Would you like to come over and rub my-
{ENDS}

At this point I remembered I had something urgent to attend to and had to hang up. I suggest you all go for a cold shower… I find that thinking of dead puppies always rids my mind when I’ve got terrible images to wipe. Guhhhahahahha. Dead puppies. Dead puppies.

Nigel, BHQ