Wait a Minute.

April, 2007 :

So, those there Pussycat dolls, five or six fine, fine, women. Absolutely fantastic, but unfortunately, only one of them (the old bint in the tight spandex camel toe pants) seems to be singing and the other lot are just flapping in the background.

I'm having a go at no talent, but I have to congratulate the rest of the current crop on the countdown, fantastic music and I'm not going to harp back to the eighties and make comparison, as, for all those kids out there, this is their eighties.

But what are they going to call it. The zero's?

Back in the zero's, those groups that could not be surpassed, those Billy Talents, the romantic Chemicals, Three days grace, the Killers, good Charlotte and all those american Idol losers who made it good.

And the supergroups.... oops, there are none.

Music has such energy at the moment, elements of my eighties, times when the clock was ticking but no-one was taking notice, when an extra pint wasn't a waistline worry and we'd never dream of not having more food at midnight.

Sitting here, listening to todays countdown, its cool and warming to think that its still going on out there, while I quaff my wine, relax in my oversize pajamas and think of staying up a minute past eleven o'clock.

It's the rebel in me.

And yes, I'd shag all those Pussycat dolls, even the old one with the voice.