Dr Unnecessary has spent the week perusing my diaries, in search of material for thirteen episodes for a US show of the Vicar Chronicles. He and Donny Greenhair have spent the week set up in the hall at the Vicarage, typing on computers and writing on white boards. When my feeble life has proved insufficient, I have made telephone calls to a few chosen friends in search of additional material.
Sean Fitzpatrick told me of the barcode scam, where a CD that is slipping in the charts – for some reason he chose Phil Collins as a random choice of an artist who might on the slide – is stickered with the barcode of a "rising CD", which the ever eager record company is pushing. This "innocent readjustment" for the purposes of massaging chart positions, would of course also mean that the sales, and therefore the royalties were wrongly allocated. Hmmmm.
Donny Greenhair has a sense that I will want to work with Harvey, the singer songwriter in Punk's band. I trust Donbledore's intuitions, and will brave the smoke filled depths of the Cock in the Bottle next week.
I miss my wife, she has been away too long. Dr Unnecessary has left his young wife, and two children in LA, and Donbledore is recently separated. What a lonely trio we make.
"If we wish to know, breathe the air around someone who knows."
