The Next Big Thing

Well, the bird flu is here. Or is it? The media has come down upon the east neuk of Fife like a virus this week and the news bulletins look like they're being directed by Bill Forsyth. Cellardyke (or Sillardike as my Granny used to say because she came from just along the coast) looks like the reporters are on the set of Local Hero. Maybe The Fence Collective will appear in the remake of the ceidlidh scene? Have you taken your poultry inside?. No? Me neither.

Another big news story this week has been that "single" that made it to the top of the charts on downloads alone. Before it was even "released". Isn't that prone to the very apex of chart rigging? Surpassing the days when retailers had to write sales down and people who worked in chart return shops had cart blanche to list their fave at every turn. Of course in these days. The good old days before computerised stock checking and god knows what else, this was carried out in good faith. I'm not saying that a mass download was planned or even undertaken but isn't it distinctly possible that this placing was gotten through subterfuge? Couldn't I just sit here and download something again and again for it to register? Like sending your family and their family and a slew of other people to buy copies of an actual single you made in a bid to secure chart notoriety? It strikes me that this is a system open to abuse. They haven't got to the point where it's limited to one download per household. And what if every member of said household just has to have that "track" on their bloody iPod? Preferring to support the artist rather than just cop a dub of their old fella or wummin (delete as applicable). More power to 'em if that's the way they pulled it off because the Top 20 is such a mire that they're welcome to it. One of the only pleasures I get is to sit and watch Top Of The Pops (on whatever night they switch it to) and seeth. That's how fucked things are around here. If it weren't for the prospect of The Sopranos (cheers H) then I dunno what I'd do.

Go outside? You can forget that... i'm feart of catching that bird flu if I walk past a refrigerator o' chicken or whatever. You can't take any chances, like, ken?