87 Regina Spektor: Remember Us to Life

OK, let’s first address the elephant in the room: I read a remarkable think piece in The Economist recently that broached the conspiracy theory that Ms Spektor’s name doesn’t actually rhyme with ‘vagina’. This is obviously #FakeNews and should not under any circumstances be tolerated

-4

I mean, maybe once in bloody Moscow Ms Spektor might have refrained from that pronunciation, as in the bloody Commie Ruskie language it wouldn’t have had the same impact, but I think we can safely assume that she is well aware of its power now. I mean, why wouldn’t you encourage that? I would kill to have my name potentially rhyme with a woman’s genitals. But no, I’m just plain old Alexander Sveti-Hollogs

-3

God damnI say God damn!- I used to adore Ms Vagina, she released two albums of absolutely masterful indie pop that managed to expertly combine flashes of arch Soviet weirdness with an unquenchable pop spark, without ever amounting to anything less than utter beauty

+4

Continue reading “87 Regina Spektor: Remember Us to Life”

89 Ash Koosha: I AKA I

The cracks first started to appear in the marriage to my fourth wife, Fedlimid-Harper, rather early on. On the honeymoon, in fact. I was kind enough to pay for two whole nights in the Scarborough Ainsley Court guest house, allowing her use of the bathroom between the hours of three and four in the morning and stating that- although I couldn’t allow her free use of the WiFi for fear of her getting radicalised and/or aroused- she would be allowed to ask me seven questions over the course of the trip which I would happily Google for her

+1

Since you wondered, the questions she asked were:

Continue reading “89 Ash Koosha: I AKA I”