Azza child i would wake late in the night and childishly stumble the corridor to my parents room at the front of the flat (azza child an apartment was called a flat) and sleep between them in their warm bed waking, to Morning Ireland playing from the wireless (a radio, and we called it a radio back then too). Onna Sunday though, LMFM would broadcast from the large messy room and between the talk, the songs that would play . . . well, they stayed with me my life although i couldint name them for shit . . .
. . . and today this Irish musician guy died and like the honey badger i didint care, i didint give a shit, UNTIL i heard his song and then i slowly cried a tear, from my left eye for my father, for the cardboard cutout offa Ford Sierra hatchback (that i glued to his bedside locker and which i cut from the back offa Lyons teabox), and of course for the early years of LMFM.
RIP Jim McCann