At the risk of being labelled Scrouge I’ve got to say – I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it ! I can’t stand it !
I think what I find most painful about Christmas are carols sung in ‘soulful’ voices. While I was in a DIY store today buying screws I was subjected to a version of Silent Night sung by a female with an adenoidal glottal stop sob dripping with emotion and probably a fair degree of phlegm. When it finally came to a throbbing conclusion I half expected that fuzzy haired piano playing div from Fame – Bruno I think his name was – to emerge from behind the plumbing supplies and opine that it was indeed very beautiful. And the boiler who did the singing, a touch of hispanic, a hint of the ghetto, bucket loads of Revlon and quite possibly a Santa Claus outfit, would glisten ever so slightly, and for a moment we’d all forget what a fucked-up place this world actually is.
I don’t want to hear Away In A Manger while I’m selecting a new blade for the Black & Decker or Once In Royal David’s City sung by an eminent baritone who can’t get work now the adverts are all Stereophonics records. It was bad enough hearing that cunt singing Only The Crumbliest Flakiest Chocolate Tastes Like Chocolate Never Tasted Before as though it was going to break every heart in the world. It goes along with hearing one of your all time favourite records oozing out of the ceiling while you’re trying to find the best deal on toilet paper. Or an upbeat er…funky selection while you’re on the phone waiting for a human you can complain to about the water bill, the gas bill or the electricity bill. You know the sort of thing : press one for sales, press two to tell us you have paid, or are about to pay your bill, press three to tell us you are moving house, and for a selection from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons press four…
And while I’m about it what about the use of the word funky? It’s become the sort of word that people who think they’re hip to all things African use. At the drop of a stylus on a Bhundu Boys record (probably one of the duff ones they did when they got hold of eighties technology) those people assume a bowlegged crouch that to them suggests lithe and limbo, roll their eyes and intone the ghastly word Affreekah…
Then they’ll tell you about these new kitchen tiles they’ve got that are reeeelly funky you know. And they’ll probably put a touch of up-speak into you know to show how positive and absolutely vibey they are.

Anyway, apart from all that, I’ve got three rules in life that have stood me in good stead over the years :

1 Never eat near the railway station
2 Never stay in a hotel near the railway station
3 Never trust a man with a ponytail

People who eat near the railway station are generally in a hurry to catch a train. They haven’t got time to complain and the restauranters know this. Unless they’re stupid that is, and who wants to eat in a restaurant run by stupid people ?
Hotels near the railway station are generally the last refuge of the desperate It’s a plain fact you can rely on, just as every bus station, cathedral or public library has a resident lunatic. I stayed in plenty of station hotels during the 1978 Stiff Tour. Most of them were owned by British Rail and they were vile.
A few years ago I stayed in a hotel in Krefeld, Germany – during the night the reception was left in the hands of a cigar smoking old man and an asthmatic scottie dog. In the morning I discovered that the sheets were crawling with little white bugs. The hotel was round the corner from the railway station.
And I once stayed in a very grand hotel in Gent, Belgium. It got less grand the further up it you went. My room was on the fifth floor. In the course of explorations during a sleepless night I discovered that the sixth and final floor was all discarded furniture covered with tarpaulins and open to the stars. There was no roof on the hotel, just furniture. That one was near the station too.
Last year in Aberdeen Amy and I revisited one of the Stiff Tour British Rail hotels. It smelled like the inside of a discarded bottle of Heinz Salad Cream and the bed was so old and horrible that neither of us wanted to get in it even though we were exhausted, it was the middle of winter, the heating wasn’t working and we couldn’t get the window fully shut.
As to men with ponytails – I think that’s fairly self explanatory. A possible exception might be PJ Proby but I’m more inclined to thrill to him than trust him.

I don’t want to hear that stuff - a band should always strive to give the impression that they arrived in a space craft. Unless they’re a blues band, and then I want to know that they arrived in a Bedford van having spent the night in a lay-by, sleeping in ex-army sleeping bags on top of the amplifiers. The only band I've ever witnessed transgressing rule number three was a Brighton band called The Electric Soft Parade. Their frontman said yeah cheers so often I lost count. The Electric Soft Parade weren't very good. The Dykeenies were but the singer said cheers after the first three numbers so I gave up. Actually that’s not quite true - I was getting cold and I had to go and get organised for my cameo appearance.

I don't know what to say about The Proclaimers shows without sounding corny, trite or bland. Someone who isn't reading this carefully might leave under the impression that I'm using those adjectives to describe The Proclaimers but I'm not - they could never be any of those. So I have to resort to fabulous, fantastic, they went out with a bang etc...
I've probably said it all already anyway. Erika Nockalls played the violin on Sunshine On Leith wearing a green satin frock. I played my green Microfret guitar on Whole Wide World. So there was a bit of colour co-ordination - a matching his 'n' hers Eric section.
Anyway, they were talking about getting together to record a new album beginning next March. I can hardly wait.

There's loads more to talk about but if I start on that I'll get bogged down in it so I think I'll stop now and put this on the site without finishing it off...