Well whilst we’re getting all pc and woke about awards ceremonies, I wish to challenge the offensive, prejudicial and highly inflammatory nature of the ‘Brits’ themselves. It’s all very well deciding to ‘remove gender based titles’ for awards, no longer having ‘best male’ and ‘best female’ categories, but the very name ‘Brit’ is a massive problem for many people of a highly sensitive, gender-dysfunctional, chromasomally-confused but predominantly Jewish, disposition. The word Brit means, in Hebrew, ‘circumcision’. Without being too old-school about this, it is something normally done to those with penises. Should an 8-day old baby have transgender issues and ‘identify’ as a male, whilst not in possession of a penis, the rabbis say that performing this ritual might be problematical. Ideologically. So to name your awards after a procedure dating back to Abraham (thus avoiding copyright issues) stands to offend or upset anyone… who might be upset by this kind of thing. The anti-Jimmy-Carr-lobby. Half the Labour Party. And possibly those at Brit Central who decided to leave out gender based awards. And the award for best singer of non-presumptive genitalia distinguishing gender-neutrality goes to… Adele. They all go to Adele.

Back in the realms of ‘proper music’, they keep re-showing the Fleetwood Mac documentary called ‘Don’t stop’. So therefore I have to keep re-watching it. For numerous reasons. Most of them being ‘Stevie Nicks’. But not ONLY for her. It goes back to the beginning. To the John Mayall Blues Band where it all began. With Peter Green. And it moved to LA where the merest remnants of the band were guitaristless and directionless until a very random and chance encounter with Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. Which produced the band we pretty much knew as Fleetwood Mac and produced the Rumours album which, according to Rolling Stone, is the 7th best album of all time. But life was not without its traumas. And marital problems plagued the band, fallouts over music, drugs, material, the ‘direction to follow’, everything. Yet they endured. And Stevie. In a top-hat, belting out Rhiannon… Oh. My. God.

Happy music

A xxxx