Separating the sweet, juicy flesh from the stone and skin of this week’s major label releases.
We have spent the last week playing with a three-inch remote controlled helicopter. It taught us two lessons. Firstly, three-inch remote controlled helicopters can be “awesome” (us) or “so scary I did a wee and some poop at the same time, then refused to eat for four days” (our cat).
Secondly, mixing three-inch remote controlled helicopters with alcohol in a living room is expensive: vases, picture frames and emergency eye surgery don’t come cheap, it turns out.
That’s life, though: the good with the bad; the ups with the downs; the 30 seconds of fun with the six hours of retro-orbital bleeding.
