Milking more encores than James Brown, he's finally stumbled back to the dressing room to enjoy a responsible low-alcohol lager and a bowl of M+Ms with all the red ones taken out. No groupies, just Hazel Blears to service his ego.
Like most of us, I'm still not really sure what to make of Mr Tony, so I offer you an appropriately disjointed and confused post, borrowing bits and pieces from various places to present something that looks coherent but isn't really. I'm also slightly hampered by the fact that YouTube is still verboten in the Land of Smiles, so the usual recourse for bloggers devoid of inspiration and energy is not available.
But anyway: the lovely Amylola draws my attention to another review of WTTM, this time at 3am Magazine; coincidentally, about three and a half years late, I uncover a roundup of music books that describes one of my previous efforts as "sugary and a bit tacky", which is pretty close to the truth, to be fair; everything you always wanted to know about stock photos; happy birthday, Helvetica (and yah boo to Comic Sans).
And I know I shouldn't find the story about virtual paedophiles in Second Life remotely funny, even in a bleak and disturbing way, so let's just call it oddly Ballardian (which is pretty much the same thing, with literary pretensions).