On With My Bad Self

One of the best things about getting married to Sam was gaining three amazing Wakefield lass sisters-in-law. And the nicest bit of all is that the Smyth siblings are so happy to have their scruffy punk brother finally ending up with a girl who's like them.

And by that, I mean a bit townie. Somebody who reads shit magazines and watches Celebrity Big Brother and looks like a dolly bird. And, at the heart of it, that's me. Just because a girl owns limited edition Mission of Burma vinyls doesn't mean she can't wear 6" stack wedges and rock a bubblegum lip-gloss, yeah?

Anyway, a few years ago at around this time I asked middle-souer Lucie what she wanted for her birthday, and she said the best thing I could possibly give her was a mix CD. She was giddy as a kipper to get it, and it was on constant rotation for months. So I'm doing her another one. Mostly because I came across this song and KNEW how much she'd love it:


Juice just loves a good tune and isn't fussy about where it comes from.  This is a blinder. I have woken it up with it in my head at least three times since I first heard it, and you just know when you dream an earworm it's solid gold.

What a chorus. Yeah!