in the interim

A Californian freak who acts out like a cross between Bolan and Morrison, dances like a daddy-long-legs, shakes his hair like one of us, presumably can be caught scratching the old chin from time to time, sings covers of a Manson song, and, more to my point, a Caetano song. My little grasshopper... The Astoria, venue from hell, surges the waves and rises to a crescendo. whilst a big-booted baldhead tries to shepherd the band off-stage.

In the workshop, your host Ricardo gets a thespian horde to remove their shoes and contempate abduction. The mission is poorly executed when the wrong Matt is removed from the room.

Ms Derry concocts a gin-what-d'chu-call-it with a rosemary of lime and all is about is as well within a sectarian world as it could be.

An investment banker buys a cappucino in The City and expains he's got a deaf brother.

Krakatoa trembles in miniature. The waves act up like Gina Lollabrigida.