:: Folk Off and Die... ::

Nearly weekend time again. I'm going home to tidy the house before the royal visit tomorrow (Granny's coming to play the piano of course). But I might fit in a sneaky pint beforehand. Unfortunately that tactic got me into trouble last night as one pint turned into five and I got back at 9.45, then fell asleep in front of the TV. So much for "getting the hoovering done".

Fortunately I did manage to use my lunch hour productively, though, as I headed into town to buy a penny whistle. I should point out that I'm not planning to join the South London Ceiladh Society, but will be playing it on stage during Twelfth Night. Not being a folk-music aficianado (or a fan for that matter) of folk music, I was a little nervous about setting my foot in Hobgoblin Music, "Britain's First Choice for Folk". Against all expectations the shop assistant didn't resemble a cross between David Bellamy and Ricky Tomlinson and only had a modicum of (very well groomed) facial hair. Actually he was quite fit and very helpful, and I bought one of these:

Carrying on the live music theme, I notice NY musicians have been taking advantage of new byelaws, allowing them to busk on the Subway. It turns out some of them are banker types who lost their jobs in the downturn after September 11th. Thus they can follow in the footsteps of their British compadres, who have also recently been allowed to busk legally for the first time on the Tube.

Still on the theme of music and performance, after months of speculation, it has emerged that the Russian TV programme Prison Idol will go ahead. Convicts will compete for a recording contract - and their freedom. This reminds me of a Latin American gameshow last year in which the top prize was... a job. Has TV exploitation gone to far, I ask myself? Probably, but like the rest of the population, I'll watch it when I'm drunk anyway (my routine excuse for watching - and subsequently getting hooked by - Big Brother).

The media have already succumbed to a mini bank holiday silly season, with the news that a New Zealand MP is to take his carburettor into parliament and that in Eccles, a rabbit hutch was issued with a parking ticket.

Right - before I head off to the pub for a boozy evening home to vaccuum the house, two mini items: a surprisingly hard "art or crap" quiz mentioned in the b3ta newsletter - I did very badly, despite claiming to know something about art. I implore you all to join this campaign to ban Comic Sans, the scourge of many a typographer ("It's so whimsical! And it shows my sense of light-hearted humour!" - piss off you unoriginal HR people everywhere. And my Mum).

Back on Tuesday - enjoy the Monday morning lie-in...