Blowing In The Wind . . .

If there's one sight I can't abide, it's a red-faced pseudo-Scotsman dressed in a skirt loitering on a street corner squeezing the final dregs of life from a deranged bagpipe. So, what happens when the instrument is being tortured by a young woman outside a church? Hmm, the sound still has the aural appeal of chalk being scraped across a blackboard, but at least the passers-by are spared the usual hairy legs and bony knees poking out from beneath the skirt . . .

PS The new ColdType is now on line HERE - accompanied by a striking, if violent, photo essay from South Africa . . .