LONDON CALLING

Krems, Austria in shambles behind us, we motor (on an airplane) to London. Hopefully, we destroy this town as well. So to speak, of course. Today we enjoy our interviews, realising again that journalists ask the same exact questions, regardless of where you happen to be in the world. Kudos to the smart Stool Pigeon writer who broke the mold. I love our faces when we are surprised, and cross my fingers it happens more often. Today we are in good moods. I could attribute this to our wild and crazy rock'n'roll lifestyle, but honestly, it's the 11 hours of sleep we lapped up in our cavelike hotel rooms last night. Today we play a venue called the ICA. It's very artsy and littered with extremely fashionable types, the kind of neatly foxy folks you might expect the posh side of London to entertain. Most girls are in those pointy, heel shoes, the kind I will never wear because they make me look like I have pigs' hooves. In 12th grade I swore never to put on a pair of pumps again. That's what we called them then. Today we unveil the new songs for the Brits. Would love to peel the skin from their faces. So to speak, of course, and in a good way. Hopefully they'll dig it and clap their hands and close their eyes every once in a while. Mine will be closed too. With luck, we'll play like a giant locomotive, and steamroll this place to the ground. Gotta find my bandmates now, it's time to get rowdy. xojanet