a short site about The Divine Comedy

Scram's Divine Comedy interview...

In which two fops converse, the first fog being our imprisoned gentleman’s issues editor, Richard Hutt, the second Neil Hannon (aka the Divine Comedy).

We at Scram HQ just love the Divine Comedy. Well, the editrix and her consort do, anyway. No doubt Richard could bend your easy for a good half hour about the peculiarly English reasons he feels this way. As for myself, I think it’s because Neil Hannon makes terrific rock and roll records that are unashamedly aimed at bookworms. In amidst all the wonderfully bombastic orchestration and the bitingly sweet melodies are references to culture pop and high, evoking a set of familiar images that glow with the light of one’s previous imagining. The excesses are similar to Scott Walker’s: brazen strings, pounding drums, and the heartening sound of one baritone taking on the world. The songs are peopled with an appealing cast of romantic misfits, film stars, minor deities, spoiled brats, and shellfish. They are unique in recent pop music, and extremely charming.

Lest the reference to shellfish mislead you, this is not the self-consciously wacky tunesmanship of a Robyn Hitchcock, but that of a dignified and reserved writer who sees connections in odd but suite reasonable places. The lyrics in question, ‘A Seafood Song’ from Neil’s early perfect second album, Promenade (1994, Setanta UK), is a loving tribute to the flavors of the ocean, guaranteed to include at least one morsel which you never knew was edible. Promenade also include ‘Don’t Look Down’, in which two lovers on a stalled Ferris Wheel are forced to argue atheism with a vengeful and dyspeptic god, and ‘The Booklovers’, wherein several dozen novelists are named, and each makes an amusing remark. He is, if nothing else, a writer of interesting songs.

Prior to this there was Liberation (1993, Setanta UK), with its ‘Death of a Supernaturalist’ (certainly the best pop song ever written about the early twentieth century mania for spiritualism) and a stunning number exploring the violent sexual fantasies of a young girl who chafes against her parents’ control. Plus eleven other clever songs touching upon such topics as crashing one’s daddy’s car, the financial rewards of Europop, allergies, romance, sibling rivalry and Wordsworth.

The new album is Called Casanova (Setanta UK April / US June), and the title reflects the record’s theme: a dirty slog through the depths of masculine sexuality. Opening with a giggle so sleazy as to inspire shudders, Casanova’s eleven tunes are calculated to leave the listener of either sex feeling soundly in need of a bath. ‘Becoming More Like Alfie’ sets the tone in postulating that since it’s always the louses who get the girls, one might as well become a louse. Neil does his best to lower himself to an appropriate level from which to observe both the behavioral quirks of his subjects, and the garters of any girls on the staircase. Fortunately for the listener, that Divine Comedy brilliance continues to shine, and moments of quite touching sweetness share the scene with some of the most brutally fascinating psychological songwriting around.

Our American readers will finally have a chance to purchase some domestic Divine Comedy product with the June release of Casanova; we think that you should. Right. Now here’s Richard’s interview.

The Editrix

Approximately once or twice an issue, Scram has its curmudgeonly ear bent by the warblings of one of the world’s newer ‘combos’. Then, for a brief and magical time we abandon our dusty cellars and cobwebbed 78s and live in the moment, for once grasping the nettle of here and now.

Recent viewing of the Divine Comedy live show revealed them to be an absolute epiphany – everything a band, and a troubadour, should be, and then some – all the literacy, drama, smarts, and sheer bloody tunefulness that tend to be sorely lacking from most other modern performers.

The Divine Comedy is/are Neil Hannon, and some other chaps for stage and recording purposes. Scram met Neil in a velvety London bar, and he proved a most friendly and urbane feller. Much respect is due to Setanta Records, home of such other pop minstrels as Edwyn Collins and the Magnetic Fields, and to Maya in particular, for her patience and for an underserved Pulp ticket (Kim says, “Thanks, Tim” as well). Cheers.

Richard Hutt

Richard: So where did you grow up?

Neil: Northern Ireland.

Richard: Now bearing in mind it’s an American readership –

Neil: Oh, will they want to know things about my life as a terrorist victim?

Richard: Nooo. They’re interested in the distinction, for instance, between the British Isles, the UK, Great Britain and the rest. And I can never remember (Neil laughs) because I got a D in Geography!

Neil: Just the political differences?

Richard: Well yeah: the skinny

Neil: (in fruity, professorial tones) Great Britain is made up of four individual nations, England, Scotland, Ireland, and Northern Ireland, no – Wales and Northern Ireland, yeah. The south of Ireland is a republic that rules itself (chuckles) not particularly well.

Richard: So what part of Northern Ireland did you grow up in?

Neil: Well, my first eleven years were in Londonderry, just at the right time, I must say. Blood and guts everywhere. And then we moved to Enniskillen just in time for a huge fucking bomb on a railway station (chortles). But then you couldn’t really get away from it. It wasn’t a particularly sort of interesting or lovely childhood.

Richard: What sort of school did you go to?

Neil: Uhm, well, a perfectly ordinary primary school. The secondary was Portora Royal School, which is a lovely old place, sort of up on a hill above the lakes. It was the alma mater of Oscar Wilde and Samuel Beckett. And Neil Hannon! (Laughs)

Richard: Were you a ‘swot’?

Neil: No. I was reasonably intelligent, enough to get by for a while. But then gradually music just got more and more –

Richard: So you never reached ‘boffin’ status?

Neil: Only musically, and that was no use. It didn’t cut any ice with anybody. I was a lazy git.

Richard: I take it you live here now?

Neil: Yeah, I live in London.

Richard: Why did you move?

Neil: I’d kinda had enough. Over the last five years I’ve been moving.

Richard: Where from ?

Neil: Northern Ireland. My parents –

Richard: Fighting the fact that you actually had to move, or ?

Neil: It was a bit of both. Trying to get away, and not sort of having to motivation. It’s hard work when you’ve been a country boy…

Richard: To adjust to the ways of the big city?

Neil: Oh yeah. And just having to look after yourself. I had the ridiculous notion that if I wrote really good music, that everybody would want to hear it. It’s gradually coming true! (laughts) But only by sheer force of my persona; I’ve written so much now that the can’t ignore me!

Richard: So did you step off the train with stars in you eyes, literally?

Neil: No, it was really boring actually. Just sent lots of demos off. Setanta sort of rang and said “We want to sign you.’ “Okay.” And then me and my little band of the time tripped over to London, did really badly, tripped back again. Back and forth, doing really crap. And eventually the guys in my band left me, stranded. They were quite right, ‘cause we were doing fuck all. So I thought, “Well, the hell with you, I’m doing to be a star!” And went back home, thought it out – as you do when you want to be a star, really. And just told my boss Keith, “Give me a year and I’ll make a great record.” And as it happened, I went home and wrotetwo great records in a year! (Laughs) And then I came back, recorded ‘em, and everybody loved ‘em. And suddenly I was on a roll.

Richard: And didn’t have any useless band members around you to share your rider with!

Neil: Exactly! Fantastic! (Laughter) To share my royalties with!

Richard: Is it just handier, just being you and nobody else sharing the blame?

Neil: I’ve no real problems being me. As far as the band goes, I feel like I’ve got a band again, even though they have no artistic input, ‘cause I’ve put a live band together. “Rock and roll.” It’s very boring and very depressing, but in the end no one has to give in to the pressure to “kick it out” (laughts)

Richard: And you don’t have to end up sharing a house and a van with four smelly people.

Neil: A van yes, but definitely not a house.

Richard: Well there you go, there’s a saving right there!

Neil: Yeah.

[At this point, the charming Maya from Setanta enters, and Scram reader are treated to a brief insight into the complex workings of London nightlife…]

Maya: Hello.

Neil: Hello.

Maya: I’ve come to bother you just for a quick moment.

Richard: Please do.

Maya: Hello Richard. Nice to meet you. I hope you’re not having too much trouble.

Richard: No.

Neil: What’s going on?

Maya: Right, about this party, Mr. Hannon. I’ve got two tickets –

Neil: Yeah!

Maya: They’re Charlie’s tickers, ITV. I spoke to Charlie and he’s not going. There’s two tickets on the door, right? Obviously, everyone knows who Charlie is, so you can’t just walk up to them and go “I want Charlie’s tickets.” Charlie said get Dean to talk to Mark, the tour manager of Supergrass, and he’ll talk to some guy, I’ve got the name written down, who’s the manager of Supergrass, who will pick up the tickets for you and give them to you.

Neil: Right!

Maya: Those two tickets are for you, right. The party’s in Ladbroke Grove, round the corner from the café, which is where I’m going after the Pulp gig. So you’re going to come to the café with the tickets, and you and I go to this party.

Neil: So where am I getting these tickets from?

Maya: They’re on the door, under Charlie’s name, but they probably won’t give them out to just anyone, so you have to get Dean to sort it our for you.

Neil: I have to get Dean…?

Maya: I will write this down for you.

Neil: I think you better! (laughter) [At this point, tape cuts out, and the Scram reader are denied the chance to hear Neil tell of Scott Walker’s address. And the fact that Scotty digs the Divine Comedy.]

Richard: – recording. That was really interesting. Everybody loves Scott Walker!

Neil: [garbled] – just hand around Mayfield Road.

Richard: Can we print that, so you might get some people coming around, lots of American tourists just walking up to him on the street?

Maya: I don’t think Scott would appreciate it.

Neil: That would be an extremely bad idea.

Richard: When Syd Barrett’s actual address became common knowledge, they get so pestered. And he’s such a very very sad man. Better to just leave them be.

Neil: Indeed, indeed. Scott’s not sad, he’s just lonely.

Maya: He needs you, Neil.

Neil: Yeah.

Richard: Anyway, so, where were we? I think you’d arrived in London.

Neil: Yeah, I’d done the albums and they were great, and that’s really it. (Laughter)

Richard: But you live in London now?

Neil: Yeah, supposedly. I’ve been in Brixton and Tooting and Peckham.

Richard: I used to live in New Cross Gate. It was a life. Well, actually no, it was a shadow of live. But you’re in Camberwell now?

Neil: Yeah. It’s pretty shadow-like.

Richard: Only for a fleeting moment. You will be moving on.

Neil: I certainly hope so!

Richard: So has it changed things for you, writing songs for instance, that you’ve been living in The Smoke?

Neil: Yeah, it’s changed from when I used to live in an idyllic country setting, in Ireland, to horrible, grotty flats in tower blocks in Camberwell. That’s what’s changed for me! Apart from that, I have lots of fun, lots of French girlfriends (giggles), lots of alcohol, and not enough drugs!

Richard: So basically the same life you always had? Except with French girlsfriends!

Neil: (Laughs) Exactly!

Richard: So, are you now a London man, would you say?

Neil: Oh, no no, I’m a nowhere man. I simply drift. No, it’s like – it’s really weird, the band is only a band in the live sense really – although Joby [Talbot, who plays woodwinds on Divine Comedy records, and arranged and conducted the wild ‘The Dogs & The Horses’ on the new album] would probably take issue with that!

Richard: Oh, they’ll never read it.

Neil: Yeah, fuck ‘em! (Laughter)

Richard: Anything else you’d like to say to anybody else who won’t be reading this?

Neil: Yes, he’s a wanker, right, and so’s the fucking bass player! No, not really. Everybody’s okay – apart from the entire record company, excluding Maya. (Laughters)

Maya: I’m lovely.

Neil: She’s lovely, the rest of ‘em are cunts. (Laughter)

Richard: Gooood. So, has anything else changed since pop stardom, such as it is? Do you still take public transport?

Neil: Oh, very definitely. I enjoy public transport. I think it’ll be hard for me to give up public transport. When I get my Mini Cooper I’ll give up public transport, but not ‘til then.

Richard: You’re happily looking forward to driving in London? You think that’s gonna be a ‘good’ thing?

Neil: No, well, it’s funny because I used to be really really scared for it, but the last few days I’ve got a company car, a Volvo, and I’ve had to use it to move house – to a new dingy flat, anyway – and it’s great. I got rather aggressive! I don’t usually et aggressive about anything really, and I bumped into this lady, in Clapham – (giggling)

Richard: In a car?!

Neil: Don’t tell anybody! In the Volvo!

Maya: You ran someone over?!

Neil: No, no!

Richard: Was she in a car?

Neil: She was in a car, in front. And I just, I looked, and for some reason, and then I thought, well, I couldn’t see any impression on her, it was the smallest tap really. And then later I saw her pulling in to one side, and people were calling and waving at me as I was driving past! (Laughter)

Richard: So essentially what you’re saying is that your record company’s going to get a letter in a few days – (Laughter)

Neil: Yes, probably! I know. I mean I was told by Joby afterwards, “You know, you’re actually meant to stop whenever you do that.”

Richard: Yes, there is a little law about that.

Neil: Yes, sorry. Sorry lady.

Richard: So what public transport do you favor?

Neil: Busses. The 176 High Street, took it this afternoon, in from Camberwell and Castle. Victoria –

Maya: Over the bridge, Strand –

Neil: Charing Cross Road

Richard: So you still look out the window when you go over the bridge?

Neil: Well, you see, I’ve been taking tubes so long because I’ve lived much further out. But now that I’m in Camberwell, you get on a bus to go to the tubes, and you might as well stay on the bus if you can get the right route. And it’s good. Tubes are okay for long distance, but busses are cool.

Maya: And London makes sense when you’re in a bus, because you see how everything’s laid out.

Richard: It’s the only way to travel. Except for between four and six. We’re trying to create a picture of London here for American who will never see it.

Neil: (Laughing) Big red busses! Pearly kings and queens! Smiling guardsmen! London’s okay, but you know there’s one thing you’ve got to remember about London: if you’ve got shitloads of money and you’ve got plenty to do, it’s the greatest place on earth. If you’ve got fuckall to do with no money, it’s the worst place on the planet!

Richard: So you’re half the way there then?

Neil: I’m sort of wandering in the hinterlands. I walk the line.

Richard: But you’ve got lots to do.

Maya: But no money.

Neil: Lots to do but no fucking money. (To Maya) That’s a good point, I need some money. (Laughter)

Richard: When was the last proper job you had?

Neil: I’ve never actually had a proper job –

Richard: In your whole life you’ve never had a proper job?

Neil: I like to quote Morrissey at this point. ‘I’ve never had a job because I never wanted one.”

Richard: (Laughts) That’s quite on achievement.

Neil: It is actually. I’m quite proud of myself. It’s simply through luck more than judgement. I was well on my way to writing some quite half decent songs by the time I left school, and I kind of got a band together just in time, after my year out from college, I just avoided going to the deplored polytechnic to do foundation art, and the rest just sort of happened. Lucky – just luck!

Richard: That’s a good gravestone quote.

Neil: It is.

Richard: You realize there is now a small subculture of Americans who picture London really clearly. When a friend came over, I actually took him to a Brit Pop club, in San Franscico, just to see what it was like!

Neil: Are there little girls with pigtails and tight skinny trousers?

Richard: Absolutely! The strangest thing you’ve ever seen in your life is a healthy Californian-looking youth of about seventeen –

Neil: Trying to make themselves look pale! (At this, the pale people laugh)

Richard: – who has actually literally, literally taken a picture of Meanswe@ar from Melody Maker, and modeled himself as closely as he possibly could, yet he looks somehow healthy and bouncy.

Neil It’s just not the image, I mean you have to be sick!

Maya: You have to look like you’ve done too much fucking drugs.

Richard: Yeah, I’ve noticed all the pop stars in their early twenties look considerably older.

Neil: Yeah, yeah. Well’, I’m in my mid-twenties now.

Richard: How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?

Neil: Twenty-five. How old are you if you don’t mine me asking?

Richard: Twenty-five.

Neil: Really? Well, hey!

Richard: Date of birth? 1970, was it?

Neil: What was yours?

Richard: 1970, tenth of October.

Neil: Tenth of October? Seventh of November. You’re one month older than me!

Richard: Are you a Libra?

Neil: No, I’m a, uh, Sag– Scorpio. But don’t care, ‘cause it’s a crap sign.

Richard: Well, you’ve definitely done better than me, because I’ve had normal jobs, and will continue to have. So, how long do you think you can make it last, never having a normal job, if you don’t mind me asking?

Neil: Definitely not too long, because I think I need some worldly experience. (checkles)

Richard: Do you think working in a shop would be good research material for you?

Neil: Yeah, that sounds wild! (Laughts)

Maya: I’ve worked in a shop.

Neil: I know it’s crap, but I’m so completely, completely at sea in the normal practical life. I’m not saying that that’s particularly a bad thing, it’s just it’s rather embarrassing sometimes, you know? When people describe their normal working days to me, I just cannot imagine how they are. It’s simply an alien world, the world of work that my careers teacher used to go on about; “Now in the world of work, you have to do such and such, and you’ll need to be able to add, and subtract, and stuff like that–” Which I never could.

Richard: Not true. I remember three months after my maths O-level, not being able to add four cans of cat food together. And of course we were the generation that was taught to use calculators rather than our brains, anyway. Calculators were gonna rule the world. (Nevous laughter)

Maya: Well they do, don’t they?

Richard: Yeah, somewhat.

Maya: You don’t have to know what real life’s all about anyway. You’ve got other people to look after that for you.

Neil: Yeah, but it means it’s hard to write songs that actually mean anything to anybody really.

Maya: Well you do quite well.

Neil: Yeah. No, I mean I’ve been trying to work it out, just sort of how and why I’m able to write songs that sort of do anything for anybody, when in fact I’ve never really done anything that anybody else does.

Richard: Do you talk to a lot of people?

Neil: No, I’m very shy.

Maya: Are you an observer?

Neil: I think a subconscious observer.

Richard: Do you spend a lot of time in the pub?

Neil: Yes!

Richard: Oh, well then there you go.

Neil: But I’m usually just drinking –

Richard: Ah, you may think you’re drinking.

Neil: I mean, I dunno, I do have this sort of abstraction from everybody else, which in a way is good, you know, you can sort of look from outside in and you’re not completely chained within a certain frame of mind. But I don’t know. It means a certain lack of real experience that can be tapped. I mean, a lot of my experience that I’ve written into songs is received experience anyway, from books and TV and cinema. And I’m almost sort of being censored by the media, y’know, because the media is where I get most of my inspiration.

Maya: Don’t you ever take inspiration from other people though?

Neil: Oh yeah, sometimes. I’ve tried to more on this album than previous ones, ‘cause I finally did something that normal people do.

Richard: What was that?

Maya: Had sex?

Neil: Yeah! (Laughter)

Richard: Thank you, I would never have said that! Has that changed everything?

Neil: It didn’t change anything much, but it was something to write about. (Laughs) You know, it gave me a certain subject around which to pin certain sort of ephemera and ideas, y’know? Because all you need’s a structure, and then the rest just follows subconsciously, sort of easily. But it’s actually just finding the initial sort of thing to start off, to open the floodgate, and it’s very difficult sometimes. With the previous album, I had to go to the extreme of actually making up an entire story around which to hang each individual song. And it was fun! And I think it makes some good songs, by accident, but I don’t think it actually worked (laughs). As a concept, I don’t think it was particularly successful in describing these two people’s day, you know? But all I was doing it for, all I wanted that structure for was an excuse to actually write, to get what’s in there out there. You need that. So there’s something in between to make that happen, I think. I did actually have sex before last year! (laughter)

Richard: Yes, we should make that clear. Do you have an exact date for our readers? Perhaps we could have some sort of competition?

Neil: It just hadn’t been particularly successful, that’s all.

Richard: I think most of people fudge the date of their actual loss of virginity. It’s a complete gray area.

Neil: I don’t really want to go into it too specifically, but my virginity was a smudged affair, I really don’t know. There are several dates that I could choose because it was such sort of…

Richard: To tell the truth, I usually pick the earliest, which probably isn’t the most honest.

Neil: When was that?

Richard: That would have been the first of May, 1987. (Laughter) I knew it was the first of May because it was May Day, and –

Neil: Well my initial fudge was earlier than that, it was when I was sixteen.

Richard: Oh, well! Mmm-hmmm.

Maya: Stud!

Richard: What a youth you were! (Laughter) That’s where he obviously gets it.

Neil: But that was just unspeakable. And unspeakable horror of yuckiness, really.

Richard: Those things have the power of make you shake.

Neil: Oh yeah.

Maya: Why?

Richard: Did you not have a…?

Neil: No, don’t talk to her about this, she’s just had fun.

Richard: The first one should be embarrassing, a big fluff, successful in some way in that you walk out of there saying, “Well, y’know, it’s over with.”

Maya: It’s different for men than women. I went out with someone for six months before I slept with him, so it was a relationship. I never had a one-night fluff. (Laughs)

Neil: Oh, this wasn’t either. This was a big-time relationship, but it was a year-and-a-half fluff, really.

Maya: But you were only sixteen.

Neil: I was. And I didn’t know my ass from my elbow.

Maya: Oh dear.

Neil: I didn’t know who I was or where I was or why I was. (laughs) And it’s great, I mean, my current charismatic, enigmatic, egotistic –

Richard: Incarnation if you will.

Neil: –self is the entire result of that moment when I got shot of that first horrible harridan girlfriend.

Richard: Do you think of writing in the same way, especially if you haven’t written in a while, that you have to get some nonsense out before you can write quality stuff? Clear the pipes, so to speak?

Neil: Well, I do! And when I’m working at home, I work on a really bad amateuristic four-track, really stupid toy keyboard and bad guitar. And writing lyrics is not where I get my frustrations out, it’s the music that always happens in streams, positively endless steams. It’s grotesque. You now, I sit down and suddenly, flash

Richard: Bang!

Neil: Wallop! It’s a techno track, and that’s sort of where it all floats out, all the crap inside. It manifests itself in bad reggae, y’know? And some of the worst domes I’ve ever made, in the worst styles possible, have eventually metamorphosed into some of the best songs I’ve written. It’s the way to get the musical ideas out is just to keep on fucking around, really, and the eventually by accident you come up with a pretty tune. But as far as lyrics are concerned, that’s terrible, I’ve usually got the whole album musically finished before I even start on the lyrics.

Richard: And than what’s life like? Do you just have to sit up all night, chewing a pencil?

Neil: Yeah. And for this album, I was in a, almost a bed-sit in Brixton with my little microwave oven and my crappy TV and my bad, and I lay in bed for literally weeks (laughs) and days and nights meant nothing to me, because I had no particular window or anything. They all blended into a sort of strange – I mean, basically my day began when I had my first KFC. (Laughter)

Richard: Which was probably like two doors down.

Neil: It was, yeah. And, oh god, talking of which, I’m starved.

Richard: The food here is not that bad, actually. I just had a Stilton and cauliflower soup that didn’t kill me.

Neil: Really.

Richard: It wasn’t bad. And then there’s bar snacks.

Neil: I’m tempted.

Maya: What time is it?

Neil: Seven.

Maya: I’ve got to go.

Richard: Are you not going tonight?

Maya: No, I have to go see Pulp and Edwyn.

Neil: Oh, it’s a harsh life, isn’t it?

Maya: I don’t actually want to go, I’d rather see you.

Richard: Why are you going?

Maya: Because Edwyn Collins is on our label, and it’s one of those things. We all went to see Neil last night. (tape cuts out)

Richard: – the quick next album thing, America thing. (in caveman voice) You America like? You go?

Neil: (in caveman voice) America like, I like go. Well, actually I’m completely ambivalent. (laughs)

Richard: You’re not in the least bit tempted?

Neil: Well, I’ve been to New York, which is very nice. But I just came away from it thinking, “That was very nice.” But then again, I’m not very, I’m not ambitious, not for dosh.

Richard: If you feed of the media, I mean, seventy-seven channels!

Neil: I know. Well that’s just silly, isn’t it?

Richard: Well no, frankly it isn’t. Four is silly.

Neil: Four is cool!

Richard: Well, if they’re good. Yeah, all right, six o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, four is very bad.

Neil: The more boring the better. You can find the most incredibly ridiculous things on television.

Richard: I have entertained frequently at parties, telling Americans about One Man and His Dog and Crown Green Bowling.

Neil: Yeah, the most exciting television in the world!

Richard: Darts!

Neil: Darts! I tell you, it’s what people want.

Richard: In America they have ten pin bowling.

Neil: America has boring television, just an awful lot of it.

Richard: But there is the Food Channel, there’s two public access – right, that’s one thing you don’t have, public access channel, were ordinary folk –

Neil: I’ve seen bits of public access.

Richard: – get up and make their –

Neil: I don’t want to see amateur crap! I want to see professional –

Richard: High quality –

Neil: – pot-holing, in the afternoon, that’s what I want to see. I want to see Arthur Neagus presents –

Richard: Today’s the Day, the quiz show about this day in history?

Neil: Yeah, right. I mean, jesus, I like to keep things small and manageable. (Laughs)

Richard: Yes, with that kind of information coming in, who knows what… So, any plans for America, ever go?

Neil: Oh, it’s all in the hands of –

Richard: Dame Fate?

Neil: Setanta. They want me to go to America sometime, and I’m sure I will. But until that time, I’ll be just plodding around Europe, making the best of it. Rapidly accruing a small fortune, with which I shall conquer America!

Richard Hutt, 03/1996
Scram 5, Summer 1996