This week's Weekly Review of Dance Music is coming at ya (you) live from the insides of my mind, and it's inside my mind where you'll come (not cum) across things like my memories and bits of brain (my brain). Can you imagine what it's like inside of my brain? I can because it's my mind and everything inside of my brain is just for me, except for when I share selected items from my brain mind and transfer it on to the cyber pages of the world famous Weekly Review of Dance Music. I love telling you about things that have happened in my past because, in a literal kind of way, I'm indulging in nostalgia, and nostalgia is a big market at the moment.

A big fucking market, and I'm getting paid fuck all for anything lately; that Mixmag job offer didn't come to anything, my quarterly Google AdSense cheque isn't half as much as I expected after the DJ Harvey interview, the WRDMHQ boiler needs fixing, we've got damp under the stairs and Meoko still owe me seventy five quid for something I did for them a year ago.


To be honest, ladies and gentlemen, WRDMHQ Capital Holdings Ltd. in Northolt is currently in a state of regrettable restructure. I've had to let go of three of my red hot teenage German bisexual lesbian typists as part of the first phase of cost-cutting exercises and I can see more job losses on the horizon. Maybe I need to clean my act up so that I can get paid to write about the clubs YOU need to go to over the weekend in the Friday edition of Metro, or something. The other week I had a PEER to PEER with a Guardian journalist slip through my fingers because of a blue routine I performed on the Ran$om Note. She didn't like the anal sex/mint choc chip condom anecdote any more than anyone else did and reneged on our interview. I don't fucking blame her. Who's going to throw money at me and fly Tonka off to LA to chat with the two remaining Beastie Boys after reading about me shit stabbing a wench I picked up in Walsall back in the day? Who's going to buy a feature on early noughties hard house anymore? Who wants to read about how I can ecstasy E tablet ANYBODY under the table, even Shabs off of Channel 4 Drugs Live?

This website (I can't even say its name right now, I'm that angry) is a fat and greasy receptacle for all that's bad about dance music journalism (sometimes). It's ramma-jamma full of crap stories, needless swearing, excessive use of brackets and capital letters, total disregard for ANYONE else in the music journalism universe, shameless promotion of people I'm friendly with on social media and desperately transparent, long-winded 'articles' about how I want WRDM to be taken seriously alongside pseudo-intellectual-bum-tonguing-sub-cheeky interviews with artists I want to associate myself with and, lately, PROPER journalists I'm cynically shining a light on in order to have a larger light shone back on me in my PEER to PEER series! It's a fucking shambles, to be honest, and I'm embarrassed at myself. Who'd fucking read this, eh? I'm not being funny, but it's fucking rubbish and I'm quitting being Tonka as of today. Somebody else can do it from now on because I'm finished. As of now!





Only joking! LOLoutLOUD. The Weekly Review of Dance Music is fucking brilliant and it always will be. PEER to PEER with the brand new, and very well deserving, North American editor of Resident Advisor, Andrew Ryce, is coming sooooooooooooooooooooooooon.

My nose is fucking filthy.

And it stinks of shit.

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You’ll be pleased to read that I've not got any more MASSIVE QUESTIONS or regional features in the pipeline because, for the first time in ages, I've run out of friends to plug and events to get free entry to. So, back to what the Weekly Review of Dance Music SHOULD be about, eh? If there’s one thing this website is good at, it’s independently reviewing dance music on a weekly basis, and it’s on that basis that I, Tonka, after three and a half years of non-stop quality output, have been offered a job at Mixmag!

Yes, I received a phone call from someone called Konrad at Mixmag at twenty three hundred hours army time last night to see how much I charge for dance music reviews. He spoke in a ridiculous, faux-Jamaican-faux-capital-faux-embarrassed accent and littered his request with exactly a quad of unnecessary accoutrements like, “vibes”, “bro”, “hype” and “hashtag jingle jangle.” I told him, crisply, “No one writes like I do in dance music. No less than ten pence per word, mate.”

He snapped my fucking hand off and I suddenly felt undersold. I said, “Steve, let’s not commit to anything before…” and he rudely interrupted with a whisper, “My name’s Konrad.”

Konrad and I then entered into a lengthy negotiation about how and where I'd fit into their organisation (should I accept their offer of employment). I strongly advised that I would be best suited in a managerial position, possibly overlooking the magazine's editorial direction, with an overlap into HR where I could be assigned the role of restructuring their current music/event review teams and their Friday afternoon Boiler Room thing promotions and programming sub-team. To this, I was offered 1 x house single review with Joe Muggs, 1 x techno single review and 1 x event review on the online edition of Mixmag on condition that no contracts are signed and payment for my services could be paid as and when the employer remembers.

Like James off of The Apprentice, I took up a smile, went a bit cross-eyed and told my sub-team team leader - who'd been standing meekly next to me the whole time - to shut up and came back hard with the same demands as before plus recommendations of my own for at least two members of staff to be offered a sensible redundancy package which I would be willing to process and sell to them both as a magazine cost cutting exercise in person. Quick as a flash, the negotiation was ended when I accepted 1 x set of trial dance music reviews, unpaid, on the Weekly Review of Dance Music prior to anybody at the magazine agreeing to authorise the publication of anything written by me being associated with Mixmag. This is all with a view to see if I fit in with their editorial mission, or vision. I can't remember if he said mission or vision.

Here's some reviews in the style of a top Mixmag reviewer. Wish me luck, guys!

Tensnake feat. Jacques Lu Cont
Feel Of Love - remixes

Tensnake is no stranger to bigtime collaborations. On his debut album Glow he called in Nile Rodgers, Stuart Price, Jamie Lidell, MNEK and Jeremy Glenn, and on the Feel Of Love remix EP he’s enlisted more huge names. There’s the German power-unit of Boys Noize & Djedjotronic, whose edit features shining synth flashes, big bass stabs and a staggered drum pattern that gives the cut a playful edge. Kaytranada’s edit fuses wild drum-fills with jazzy interludes and a vibe that Pharrell would be happy with. Strong.


Berkson & What
Make It True feat. JoJo De Freq

Berkson & What are next up to release on Seth Troxler’s legendary Play It Say It with Make It True feat. JoJo De Freq; an elastic, fantastic, bright green plastic radiant house jam with sharp kicks, an acid tinged bassline, sultry nag nag nagging female vocals and the smoothest synths this side of your little sister's legs. Dance hero Luke Solomon delivers a ‘Remix 4 Turnings’ version which turns it into an almost new track (!) with a deeply grooving bassline, funky melody, spoken human vocals and very, very, very, very noticeable hats. Dance legend Larry Heard aka Mr Fingers heads up the B-side on the other side of the record, with his ‘Psychedelic Jungle Mix’ and ‘Smooth Mix’ doing just as they say, being both psychedelic and smooth.


Springblade/Chain 2.0

Korma is from Seattle and part of a wave of international producers giving UK bass guys a run for their money (see also: YNGN, Moslem Priest, Air Max ’97). Fans of that WTF?! sound that first emerged around the turn of the decade thanks to Bok Bok, Untold, Ikonika et al will dig these unpredictable tracks. ‘Springblade’ is a mechanical riddim shot through with warped bass and glocks being cocked; ‘Chain 2.0’ is mutant ghetto house music sheathed in sheet metal FX. See also Korma’s EP for Car Crash Set sub-label Ice Rink. Pure fire.


DJ Pierre
What Is House Muzik (Ricardo Villalobos What Is Remix)

Major big time riddim fire here from not just one maestro of the scene, but two. This stretched out, panoramic snapshot of a house past is brought right up to speed, and into the present day future, by way of a K-hole inducing trip via a minimal dance floor circa 2006 and into your eyes and ears today on a YouTube near you. Those trademark Ricky V slow-mo snap-claps and fizzing hi-hats sit perfectly alongside DJ Pierre's sultry "What Is House Muzik?" vocal line and that cheeky bass line in what is a sure fire Christmas minimal banger. 32 minutes of pure, absolute TUNEAGE that is sure to make your hashtags jingle jangle.


Kingthing & Jamie Grind

Here’s a split EP from two underground producers who know how to twist bass music inside out. Kingthing delivers ‘Waking Up’, a monstrous acid techno squelcher, and ‘Cold Diss’, a pounding juke run-around. Flip it over and Jamie Grind brings ‘We Still Play 140’ and ‘For You’, two warm, melodic future garage cuts with cosmic tendencies. Bliss.


Daft Punk

This is the track that would have been in Tron Legacy if the film featured an illegal drugs rave. Reminiscent of Rinzler, the contrast between modern synths and classic string and drum sections works beautifully. Expect frantic drum fills and a cheeky flute section that carries the song all the way to the abyss.



If I'm not getting the drinks in at the Mixmag Christmas party this year, I'll smash WRDMHQ up even more than I did last Christmas when I got my hopes up about a freelance writing job at Resident Advisor that never materialised and Meoko stopped paying what they promised me.

Either way, I'll be back next week with loads more FREE content on the internet. You can read all about my week on the Ran$om Note every Friday too. Join me.

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Clubbing in Birmingham. Check. Desperate attempt to expand my readership beyond the tiny pocket of eyes in east London. Check. Minimal techno. Check. Techno. Check. Industrial techno. Check. Chubby Funster and Seb Wheeler. Check. Making zero pounds from writing about dance music...

Aww fuck, there he go again. Talking about hoes and dough again.

A rap reference. Check. Ricky V. Check. Hard house. Check. WWF. Check. MASSIVE QUESTIONS with a DJ or producer I've become mates with on social media. About to check.

Chris Finke is a man. He's also a DJ, producer, male model, and planner/programmer for one of the longest standing, and most respected, techno nights in the UK. If you've never heard of Atomic Jam you've either not been reading WRDM or Tonka's Week for the last month or you're new to dance music, and I forgive you. I met up with Chris at the weekend for a chat about his life, a drink of steaming hot tea and a play on the big boy swings at Roxeth Park in South Harrow.

Here is a transcript of every single word we breathed at one another:


Q. For anyone unfamiliar with the name Chris Finke, could you tell them who you are, what you do and why you do it?
A. Chris Finke is now officially dead. He was a techno DJ and producer. He was a bit of a wanker. Bodyjack and He/aT seem like cool guys though. They are much better looking than him, and make really good music.

Q. Has establishing yourself in the dance music industry been a pain in the arse or the opposite of a pain in the arse?
A. It's has been what my mum would say “a fun pain in the arse.” I've done things, seen things and met people I never would have ever had the chance to do so that's great and I'm so appreciative of all that. But I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of hassle by getting a normal job years ago. So yes, a fun pain in the arse.

Q. Clap or snare?
A. Clare or Snap. Both together are fun. Like most things.

Q. Atomic Jam starts celebrating its 19th birthday this week. How long have you been involved and what's your job?
A. I've been resident there for the last 12 years (as Chris Finke) and now under my He/aT alias. I also do the planning and programming with Danny the promoter too now, but that's it. My promoting days are long gone.

Q. I’ve not stopped banging on about House of God since I accidentally went there in 2012 because I was, patronisingly, surprised at how great it was. Do you see Atomic Jam and HoG occupying a top table in Birmingham's underground nightlife universe?
A. When Birmingham is on form it can be the best place for clubbing in the UK. But it's a really odd place. It goes through massive ups and downs when it comes to nightlife – it has recently come out of a massive slump and things are really picking up steam which is great. There are some great little nights popping up too.

Although I do think it suffers from too many promoters trying to do the same thing at times...if a few of them clubbed together (pun intended/no apology) then they could do really well.

Q. Ive just checked my stats and it says that most of the people who read WRDM in the UK live in London. HoG and Atomic Jam parties are rare. Can you recommend any other nights in Brum that people outside of the Midlands can go to? Or don't you give a fuck about anything other than Atomic Jam?
A. Well, the great thing about that is Atomic Jam is now bi-monthly! The first one is sold out but the next one is in January and we are doing every other month right up to the 20th birthday after next Summer. So I would absolutely recommend buying tickets for future parties on sight, as things are about to “go off” as they say...

Q. Stone cold sober or absolutely fucking terminated?
A. People do stupid things when they are drunk. I do stupid things when I'm sober. So, I'm going with absolutely fucking terminated as it's more fun.

Q. What's your favourite Fabric CD?
A. I haven't listened to all of them, but the last ones I heard and really liked were the Pangaea and DJ EZ ones. Fun for all the family. Aside from my uncle, who is deaf.

Q. How many pseudonyms do you have and what’s the difference between them all?
A. I've been called every name under the sun, but for music I use Bodyjack, which is for fun stuff and He/aT which is for techno. I did He/aT for a year totally anonymously when I killed off Chris Finke as an experiment to see if people liked my music without knowing who was behind it, and it was better received than any of my Chris Finke stuff, which is interesting. Bodyjack is just a completely new audience for me and its really good to be doing that. He's a character, I can tell you.

Q. What kit do you use for a He/aT live performance? Synthesisers and microphones? Is it just you?
A. Yes, it's just me. I had never played live anywhere before or even used Ableton before I played Berghain in May. That was a scary experience, but I couldn't have been happier with the way it went. I've only done it once since and I'm only pulling that out on special occasions. I much prefer DJing really, and I'm banned from using a microphone in most major cities in Western Europe after the 'unpleasantness' when I filled in for Wogan at an after-dinner for Comet last year, so that's out I'm afraid.

Q. The Atomic Jam 19th Birthday Party Part 2 is in January. Are you planning many other parties for the rest of 2015? If so, will you be staying with Next Door, and do you have any names lined up?
A. Yes, as I said before (if you were bloody listening and not staring at that girl in Greggs) that we are doing a full on schedule next year. Joining me and the new resident Stephanie Sykes in January we have Shifted and Truss & Tessela doing their TR//ER live thing, which will be wicked.

I can't say who we have booked for the following parties, but we have some killer line-ups and a load of acts that haven't played for us before. It's the 20th birthday year so we are looking at some tour dates and another really exciting project I can't talk about, which will really push things on for us. So, it's an exciting time for all concerned.

Q. What is Stephanie Sykes really like?
A. For legal reasons, I can't say much other than she is a very good DJ and is a really good laugh. Oh, and she picked up a broad Manchester accent when she lived there for a few years up until this year. But that is really all I can say until the courts make a decision.

Q. I'll be attending the first part of your birthday party this Friday night. I might have a mate with me who doesn't have a ticket. If he turns up, could you "sort him out" on the door please?
A. I'm sorry...what? The line went fuzzy then and I couldn't hear you...

Q. Is there anything else you'd like to plug, mention or say in your defence?
A. Yes. This month I've got two Bodyjack releases: my remix for Chambray on Jimmy Edgar's Ultramajic and my next BodyTrax EP. Next month the 4th He/aT EP (Helping the Police With Their Enquiries) drops and also my split EP (with new guy Soundbwoy Killah) is out on the Bodyjack label. All of which I'm really happy with. So please go and check them!

Finally, thanks for the questions...as I said before, it's great to chat with a music journalist who clearly has absolutely no agenda and is doing it for a laugh. Big ups, breadbin x


What a lovely young man - even though he pretended not to hear my request for one potential freebie on the door! I never knew half of what he told me before so I'm glad we met to clear those things up. Please join me in wishing Chris all the very best for all of his future endeavours and then support his various pseudonyms and Atomic Jam. If you're going to Atomic Jam on Friday, contact me on Facebook, Twitter or email (details below) and I'll gladly buy you one pint of beer at the bar.

BOOST Chris Finke's moral by joining him on his various social media outlets:

He/aT Facebook: facebook.com/heattrax
He/aT Twitter: @heeaatt
He/aT Soundcloud: soundcloud.com/he_at

Bodyjack Facebook: facebook.com/thisisbodyjack
Bodyjack Twitter: @chrisfinke
Bodyjack Soundcloud: soundcloud.com/bodyjack

Next week, there's a special PEER to PEER with a proper print journalist! There'll also be MASSIVE QUESTIONS with Anne Savage, loads more Hilarious Lookalikes and my cheeky, inimitable thoughts on the week in dance music.

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Next week's WRDM was supposed to be a PEER to PEER with a Guardian journalist but she pulled out on Friday afternoon after reading my Tonka's Week opener where I told an amusing anal sex/mint choc chip condom anecdote. She, understandably, did not want any association with a writer who writes about 'impaling' a sexual partner with his willy - and it will teach me never me to pick up the Profanisaurus instead of the Thesaurus again when trying to write creatively. The bit was eventually censored by the powers that be at R$N Towers who received a record number of complaints. My words were deemed 'too hot' and 'dangerous' for publication.

I'm not bitter at all, but I know for a fact that in 20 years time Ransom Note will have an influential chat show hosted by Joe Europe and he'll introduce my 76 year old mother onto the set to read that banned anal sex bit out to a live studio audience on the tenth anniversary of my death, followed by an insincere apology for not publishing such an important piece of writing at the time. That said, I'll be playing it very safe this Friday, lads.

WRDMidlands Special

Oilroight, lads? How we doin’, cocka? Yow oilroight, mate? Gorrany Mitsibishi ecstasy E tablets gewin? How much, mate? Five powend? Five fuckin’ powend?! Fuck me, kidda, gew on then. We’ll have to call yow Five Powend Fred from now on, woe we, ya fuckin’ rob dog! Doe mind me, mate, I’m saft as a fuckin’ bag of grey pays ‘n’ bacon! Right then, he’s ya ackers, where’s me suck? Bostin’! Cheers, mate!

If you've ever been to ANY nightclub in Birmingham*, you've seen a young man with ten different hair styles on his greasy bleached-blonde head, wearing black labelled Adidas tracksuit bottoms and a pair of Kickers on his feet holding up a top half: untucked, lime green and red box-checked Ralf Loren shirt with bright white collar and cuffs, and a small hooped copper earring on the left side of his pock-marked, bum-fluffed face carry that very conversation, word for word, a million and one times – especially if you were frequenting Sundissential at Pulse, Q-Club and The Sanctuary between the years 1999 and 2003.

In the mid-nineties, before I was old enough to go out and experience it for myself, clubbing in Birmingham was great. Miss Moneypenny's was an exotic, glamorous, mythical, glamorous and exotic mirrored cave of excess and beauty. You could only get in if you were a Premiership footballer, a male model, a lady model or a lad called Simon Mobley in my year at school. Sundissential was, at the time, something new: a fresh, anything-goes Sunday afternoon alternative to the hand bag house being played out to the suits and dresses on a Saturday night...at Sundissential, they played hard bag. Chuff Chuff sounded like it was fucking brilliant and I'm losing steam now on why and how clubbing in Birmingham was good, but it definitely was, I think.

Today, clubbing in Birmingham feels very different to clubbing in London. It feels rougher. It feels a little unsure of itself. It feels like you’re still out clubbing in your late teens even when you’re a thirty three year old man in 2014 because you’re still surrounded by blokes in brightly coloured untucked fakes on the pull and you have to wear shoes to get into most of the bars in the city centre. There are exceptions though. There are places you can go.

Steer clear of the sick-stained pavements of Broad Street and reluctantly head towards Digbeth because that seems to be the only area where you can walk into a pub wearing trainers, holding a library book and order a pint of Black Country BFG without being laughed at by a gang of fat lads getting ready for Godskitchen. I say "reluctantly" because you might bump into my fifty six year old trendy dad who celebrated middle age a few years ago with a crisis, a divorce, a wardrobe trip to Urban Outfitters, a move to Kings Heath and a wedding to a younger bird in New York because it's "romantic in New York." How a place is romantic is beyond me. New York isn't romantic; what you do there is, and I know for a fact that all my dad did in New York was have his photo taken outside bars and Check In on Facebook all week. Anyway, my point is this: there are places to go in Brum where you won't end up being in a fight, watching a fight or having the shit kicked out of you for not fighting in a fight you were trying to watch, and I'll get to them in a bit.

Bakers and Stoodi Bakers used to be on Broad Street, Key Largo and Ministry of Sound Bar too. Those places were glitzy and fun and full of slappers, sluts, slags, dirties, open cockpits, easy dreamers, ginger West Bromwich Albion strikers and blokes who loved fighting. I had the opportunity to finger a pretty Indian woman in the Ministry of Sound Bar (circa 2000), and I took it. I never saw her again but I don't think it's because of my technique or the length of my middle finger. These days, the middle finger on my right hand is a little crooked. It's hairy, wrinkled and dry around the joint that separates the intermediate and proximal phalange. It's slightly fatter today than it was during the Millennium. Back then, my middle fingers were like scaled down human javelins; sleek and ready to be thrown into various grassy mud holes up and down the back streets of Brindley Place. They were slim and sturdy, not crooked in any way, and only the ghosts of a hairy future were visible. I fucking hate the passing of time.

I once stood upright and proud on the Bakers dance floor, waving my twiggy arms around behind my sister's head and gurning as June Sarpong hopped on a podium and screamed, "SEE YOU AFTER THE BREAK" to the MTV Dancefloor Chart camera crew. The amount of glittered crop-tops, whizz, Smirnoff Ice and furry boots. The amount. Fuck me. I've still got this episode taped on video, and when I get around to popping into Snappy Snaps, converting it to DVD and disguising every shot of my face with that Tonka shepherd picture, I'll put it on YouTube.

House of God has lived through the nineties, the noughties and is still plodding on through the tens and teens. House of God is different. House of God is good. HoG celebrated Halloween last week with a party at Tunnel Club where, I heard, Paul Birken, Surgeon, Terry Donovan, Jinx, Slobodan, DJ X, Deadbeat, Grindi, Stacked and Sir Real all played sets that incorporated the following genres: techno, drums and bass, jungle, beats, bass and happy room. Apparently, it was fucking brilliant...and I'm not just saying that because I've become friendly with the people who run it on Facebook and Twitter.

House of God is ramma jamma full of clued-up industrial techno kids in their late twenties and ravers from ‘Generation Rave Late 1980s and Early 90s’ who are probably in their early sixties now. One wrinkled-up dread-locked Mad Max-type bloke I met at their 20th birthday party was stomping around with his twenty six year old daughter! He was pushing a bottle of poppers up her nose and letting her lick drug powder off the back of his house key. It made me feel sad on the one hand and really happy on the other because although I knew that what I’d witnessed was a gross mishandling of the traditional father/daughter relationship, they’d let me sniff from their bottle of Liquid Gold for the last thirty or forty minutes.

Atomic Jam is a bit like House of God, I think. Their parties are rare, but very well done, like a confused steak...and I'm not just saying that because I've become friendly with the people who run it on Facebook and Twitter. I've never been there before but they've got a long history of booking Dave Clarke so they must be alright. And Jeff Mills. I’m going for the first time on Friday 14 November with Micky John and Draper. I’ll be signing copies of the Weekly Review of Dance Music for most of the night before hitting the (dance) floor (with my feet) for the last couple of hours.

I'll be signing copies of the Weekly Review of Dance Music on the side of the dance floor whilst He/aT, Ø [Phase] Stephanie Sykes and Dave Clarke enhance the spectacle by providing a background soundtrack of birthday-themed techno songs to a clued-up Brummie crowd. I can't wait. The promoters have already bought a little trestle table and mock-up posters of me climbing Mount Everest with an Atomic Jam flag strapped to my back. By way of a trade off for helping me promote WRDM outside of London, I'm providing He/aT with the MASSIVEST platform to showcase his talents; fuck the time he played Berghain, next week He/aT will be the subject of next week's MASSIVE QUESTIONS next week.

Atomic Jam are that good that they're giving themselves TWO birthday parties! The first one, next week, sold out in about twenty seconds, so they're doing another one on the 23 January 2015. Friend of a very dear friend, Truss, will be DJing with his brother along with Shifted, He/aT (again) and Stephanie Sykes (again). Maybe I'll make it, maybe I won't...it all hinges on how many page views, Twitter Followers and Facebook Likes I can farm from Birmingham after next week's promotional exercise.

In summary then, clubbing in the midlands used to be fucking brilliant, and maybe it still is, I don't know. I haven't got a fucking clue, and that's the point of this week's post. They haven't got Miss Moneypenny's anymore. If you have a look at the Sundissential Facebook page lately, you'll see that the whole operation is a fucking shambles now - they need Madders back, urgently. Nobody cares about Godskitchen. The less said about Gatecrasher the better. So, correct me if I'm wrong, but it feels like there are only two decent nights left in Birmingham: House of God and Atomic Jam, and they're both about twenty years old! I hope I'm wrong because, although I'll never move back and live there again, I do wish my old city well...and if I have to keep alternating between two aging techno nights every time I come up and visit it's a sad state of affairs. Very fucking sad.

Please let me know if there is anything else good happening in Birmingham club-wise and I'll happily shine a light.

I'll be back next Tuesday with MASSIVE QUESTIONS with He/aT, loads more Hilarious Lookalikes, loads of free promotion for things I like, a brand new Remix of the Week, MASSIVE QUESTIONS with Anne Savage, PEER to PEER with Andrew Ryce, Tonka's Week on Ran$om Note, my exposé into the murky goings on at a famous online dance distributor and an in depth look at the ongoing Musical Bingo war in London and a wonderful PEER to PEER with Kate Hutchinson when she gets around to sending back her answers back to me.

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*I can’t speak for every nightclub in Birmingham because, before I fucked off to London in 2004, I was so one-eyed when it came to clubbing I really did ONLY go to Sundissential (and the affiliated seasonal Tidy Trax parties at Wolverhampton’s Mezzanine) and almost got the ‘boy and girl’ symbol tattooed across the skin above my heart. At the age of nineteen, I gave up Catholicism and adopted Sundissentialsim; with Madders as my God, Nick Rafferty as my Jesus, Lisa Lashes as my Virgin Mary, Mother of God, Paul Glazby as my Joseph, the Tidy Boys as two of my shepherds, Ian M as one of the other shepherds, Fergie as my Judas, Tony De Vit as my Angel Gabriel, the Brain Bashers as my Mary Magdalene and John the Baptist, Andy Farley as my Luke the Apostle, the 12” Thumpers as my Pontius Pilate and Herod the Great and Pulse, Q-Club and The Sanctuary as my St. Paul’s Cathedral, Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris and The Annunciation of Our Lady on the Yew Tree Estate in Walsall.