Music, Art, Comics, Videos, Short Films, anything that requires more thought that opening a tin of Stella and settling into a televised Port Vale F.C. match.
Music lovers with deep pockets that will bring all the solid gold talent to the forefront, Nash the Slash, Pete Doherty's dealer, God (I hear she's fit), the Ghost of Christmas Past, Elvis (even though he's old and hiding out with Hitler in the Canaries), the dude who sold me grass seeds at four in the morning in Picadilly (my lawn looks beautiful now), the dude that sold me oregano in Camden (pasta's not the same without it), the dude that sold me baby powder in Heaven (not the place, but the club near Charing Cross, my rash is cured, thank you), left handed bass players named Mitch, Dr Who (so I can knick his time machine and save John Lennon, and eliminate Yoko Ono), the fella responsible for scaling the entire Lord of the Rings down to a music filled three hours (and then his dealer), Geronimo.
The world is a small place now, so hook me up with your tunes. Fruit Machine Blues, JD and the Longfellows, Big Girl's Blouse, Chet, Bretton, Honeycube, Suburbanite, Sodared, Lucid Oak, Mumrah, Kvetch, Black Maria Memorial Fund, Fahrenheit 451, The Fore, etc, etc.
It costs too much to see them in cinemas, piracy has taken the fun of it, and frankly I can't sit still for two hours to watch recycled Shakespeare, but a few good'uns are Hard Core Logo, SLC Punk, Empire Records....
TV is rubbish, fact, 852 channels nowadays and still I'd rather be sat in the park with some good friends with a cricket set and some nice wine and cheese.
instead of right hooks.
Hunter S. Thompson, our parents, Stuart O'Connor, anyone who gives up their seat for the pregnant and elderly, and the elderly who tell off shitty children for being shitty children.