Stretch has thought about it a lot and realised the only thing to compare to the pain of experiencing the above lot, is to staple my nipples to my nads and throw myself off a large desk, belly-flopping into a blissful antidote to the music by numbers rubbish these people write. There are too many bands in the world and they’re not all worth interviewing. Van Morrison, maybe an icon for some, but not for all. Knowingly slagging off U2 is fine, but you would sell your dirty little snot-nosed children to get an interview with tho
se morons. And also, shut up about your kids, nobody fucking cares that you are a music journalist with a child. It’s meaningless. It means nothing to people who read music columns. Your child will fucking hate you anyway, mainly because of your stupid articles.
ahhhhh, Stretch is sorry about that, it got out of control…but still your fucking child and you are worried about being cool and a Dad. Here’s some news, you weren’t fucking cool to begin with. Cool people don’t exist, they are just mental constructs made up by the weak. Pah, I’m going to bed!