Dead posh

I went to Leicester yesterday. My interweb friend Dave showed me a few pubs. I had a brilliant time.

On the way back I had a genuine “panic on the streets of Birmingham” moment. Yeah, walking around a strange city trying to find a train station that’d supposedly get me to Worcester in the middle of the night.

When stuff goes wrong with the British train system and delays occur, it stuffs everything up, but when it’s running smooth it’s an amazingly excellent way of getting around. It’s sad that New Zealand’s passenger rail system is so minimal. Oh, I weep bitter tears for Tranz Rail.

Oh, I was pleasantly surprised when Dave said he hadn’t heard of the Datsuns. (“But… but… they’ve been on the cover of the NME! They’ve been on “Top of the Pops”!”) Then I realised that the bloody Datsuns were just another cool-in-London band who’ll soon be uncool when the next cool band comes along (and I suspect such a band may have already come along). I’d rather put my money on Daniel Bedingfield.

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