I go away for a while, and the world goes crazy. I can’t get to Fandango’s site by the regular channels, I’ve requested access from the man himself, but we’ll have to wait and see if permission is forthcoming.

In other news, 2 shouty rude men who put together about 20 good tunes about 30 years ago at exactly the right time to become very much part of the zeitgeist. They swore at their fans, sneered at them, standing motionless on the stage and belted out the first two albums to the delight of the crowd morphing into one giant karaoke venue, night after night. And like Olympian Gods they looked down on their worshippers with distain while counting the pennies at the expense of their souls. 

Britpop; fucksake. Now in a cost of living crisis, which they never experienced, snorting thousands up their noses they were never out of the Tabloids, front pages, swearing at paparazzi, shagging this woman, that woman, the calculated reluctant darlings of the showbiz pages, column inches their currency, remaining relevant for their antics as the music tailed off into easy listening Dad rock, becoming the establishment which they sought so hard to rebuff in the early days. Then a punch up before some gig and they split, they didn’t speak again and they went their own separate ways until the prospect of a insanely huge pay off materialised for their possible reform. A cynical Reformation,  Any credibility which their music may have had back in the early 90’s becomes divest and reverts to a kind of karaoke scratch and sniff. A nostalgic sing along in soulless stadiums and sticky floored exhibition centres up and down the country. Ticketmaster operating some sort of dynamic pricing which increased the price as the demand for them rose. So tickets which were meant to be £125 tuned out to be £325 and above, £600, £900… it’s disgusting, but good luck to you if you’re going. I hope the credit card bill is worth it, for hearing a 50 year old pretend cross man with a noticeably much weaker voice standing bashing a tambourine and a man on an expensive guitar with some catchy tunes you won’t hear because everyone will be drowning out the tunes singing, stacked up on expensive low grade lager. Those two men and the band, but specifically those two classless men will be laughing all the way to Primrose Hill, safe in the knowledge they’ll never have to work or indeed speak to each other again as their mattresses sit high up on bundles of cash from people who don’t have it any more, that’s capitalism, fraud or theft, you decide. 

Good luck to them; Oasis, more like a stagnant pond now, don’t forget the reissues of all the records (clogging up all the record making capacity like Adele or Ed Sheeran did  a few years back) and B sides, rarities, t-shirts, tea towels, mugs, hair products. Not to mention endless TV appearances for the whole summer next year which I think is when the gigs are. I’ll be glad to miss out, I had no interest in going to a gig, No one is worth over £100 surely. And they know we know they were chuffed to bits at the furore created by Ticketmaster as they became richer than in their wildest dreams within a couple of days of the Gigs selling out, but they don’t care, eat the rich; they are the rich.

Some might say you’ll have to pay, an enormous amount for a day; well I hope it’s worth it.