Hey freakenders.

How are you all? I hope you're not sore, sick or sedated for any reason. There's a lot of 'it' going round.

I went to the BAFTA pitching thing the other night and it was very interesting. I learned how to survive and bullshit my way through Cannes. Although, the chance of me ever going to Cannes is beyond remote. Still, it was useful because I managed to 'network' and mingle with other writer types and make some contacts. Creatively, I pulled.
I offered some advice to a younger guy and that helped me to feel useful because, before he came over, I was sat at the back, drinking Pepsi and avoiding pretentious types with beards who were 'knee-deep in a project about current affairs and issues'. It's the stiffness of writers that I don't like. I do it for fun, for some kind of release. Anything to do with pleasing markets and demographics freaks me out. I went through all that with 'Bent Soul' and it left a bitter taste in my mouth (Along with a 'Grrr' face towards Hollywood types)
In other news, I joined The Sock Monkey Army, aquired some new rad t-shirts, watched the new Rush video, settled into my new job incredibly quickly and made some songs. I say songs, they're more like little noise cookies.

This song is for Nick and Adam P:

Manic Street Preachers 'Underdogs'