Noddy Needs His PRS Cheque

As we come to the fiftieth anniversary of the greatest Christmas song ever created, Tom FreakyTrigger has written up an investigation into the changing of the Guard, as the GlamChristmas era starts to fall out of the Christmas canon, leaving a distinctly American tinge over things. And that’s a little sad. Tom cautions against nostalgia in his piece, and I totally agree, but there is something wonderful about a bunch of Brummies just having a great time on the Top of The Pops set:

I miss the era of Britain which was basically: “We’re crap, but in a funky skillo way”¹

Of course, I’m a fine one to talk, given that I left the country and live in the country that has, perhaps due to the information superhighway, retconned the pasts of the Western world across television, music, books, film, video games, and more besides. But Maeryn will at least grow up groaning as I pull out Wizzard for one more go-around every December.

We survived our trip to New York, which sounds a little over the top, but we did get caught in a scary crowd crush on Fifth Avenue, which would be scary enough in normal times, but when you factor in a small baby who’s just woken up in her buggy as around twenty people press into her, it is a little frightening. But we got out of the crush, saw the tree at 30 Rock, and went back off to Brooklyn, and soon somebody was bounding all over the hotel bed like nothing happened. She will get sick of us telling the story when she’s about ten. Although that won’t stop us…