Unlike Jesus I am actually feeling quite sprightly this Friday – at least I only have a sore head.  Last night, instead of being a nice sensible boy and doing some work and getting up for proper job in the morning, I realised that Mrs. Toad was off doing nothing today and I thought I might take advantage of it.  So I was kindly given a last minute holiday and we proceeded to get absolutely hammered and listen to Song, by Toad Records bands far too loud until the small hours.

Seeing as this five is going up incredibly late I assume it will be a pretty quiet one, with those off work not being anywhere near a computer and those actually at work being five minutes from fucking off down the pub, to drink with the kind of determined malice that only a day at work while the whole rest of the country puts their feet up can give you.

Well to start with, a spot of pressy news – firstly, The List featured an article by Laura Ennor about the Edinburgh music scene yesterday, which included plenty of Toady things, including a big ugly picture of a pair of Foxxes at the very top.  They also liked He Was Such a Quiet Boy by Trips and Falls, which you can buy here, as did The Skinny.  In addition to that, The Skinny have also just published a track-by-track preview of the new Meursault album, written by the bald man himself, so it’s been a very press-friendly week here at Song, by Toad.

Not really on the subject of that at all, Dylan and Mrs. Toad and myself were in the pub last night discussing Roman Abramovich’s yacht.  Can you imagine being the sales clerk in the Shiny Boat Shop when he came in for a bit of a browse?

Roman: Hello, I’m looking for a boat.  A very big shiny one.
Clerk: Splendid sir, we have lots of big shiny boats.  We are in fact a big shiny boat shop.
R: Excellent.  As I am a Rich and Important Gentlemen of Consequence I would like a boat which makes an appropriate statement to that effect to the world at large, do you think you can do that?
C: Why yes, sir I like to think that we should be able to meet sir’s needs.
R: Well I want lots of stuff on this boat to make it cooler than all those pesky Emirs boats, because that’s how important a fellow I am.  Do you have a pen and paper?  Take some notes, boy.
C: Yes sir, go right ahead sir.
R: I want a cinema in my boat.
C: A cinem…?
R: Don’t interrupt, boy, just write it down.
C: Sir.
R: A cinema, and an aquarium.
C: Very good sir.
R: And a discotheque for when I wish to do some disco dancing.
C: Certainly sir, a discotheque.
R: And a hospital.
C: Yes sir, one hospital.
R: And a swimming pool.
C: Yes sir, one swimmin…
R: No, everyone has a swimming pool these days, I want THREE swimming pools!
C: Three swimming pools, certainly sir.
R: And a helipad – no, make that two helipads, that’ll show those Emirs.
C: Two helipads, certainly sir.
R: And a submarine.  I want an escape submarine which launches from underneath the boat!
C: And, erm, yes, a submarine.
R: And, and, and I want bulletproof glass, armour plating and a missile battery!
C: *splutters tea everywhere* Er, just one moment sir, I may have to have a quick word with my supervisor.

Roman Abramovich actually is a Bond villain, isn’t he.  The man’s so ludicrous he actually makes an awful lot of Bond villains look downright unimaginative, don’t you think?  If only he’d start turning up to Chelsea games stroking a white cat, he’d finally complete the transformation.

Clerk: Sir, I’ve asked my supervisor about the missiles and he asks you to step this way so he can show you the arsenal.
Roman: Arsenal??  I fucking hate Arsenal, you impudent nincompoop!

Boom-tish!  Thank you very much, I’ll be here all week.

So instead of doing a Friday Five this week, those of you still around can simply help me design a Roman Abramovich yacht.  I want a petting zoo!