[Sound of the most vigorous 1940s applause from a packed concert hall]

The Workaholic guys

He raps like Eminem in the same way Alastair McGowan does.

100% Top marks to those who don't take a few quality points off their project by jamming their less polished showmanship in, but can I say I would be among them? Probably not. Finding someone with the talent & charisma of a young Donald Glover would have made a better show but it wouldnt be Hamilton

Soul selling for a donut? I like how it follows on from Bart Gets Hit By a Car

I always think of the super cold version from Albert Finney's Scrooge.

I will watch!

I love the floors and angles in that one. Easy to forget 20th century Burton was a great. I've been falling asleep to Ed Wood this week and, even with who Depp became and the fact he's managing a prediction of a Jack White impression, it's a perfect film.

But, Daddy issues that I seem to do an inexplicably good job of engaging and exorcising aside, I get it. The culture's making young men, and men in general, worse and worse. I met a nice woman, petite, looks younger than her years, & she said men keep asking her to play at being their little sister.

This is why I could never be a billionaire. Anyone under about 32 showing even the most passing interest in me is baffling and deeply off putting. Gross. Find a lad with a broccoli haircut and a Playstation and I'll talk to women about grown up things. Like, I dunno, their growing to hate Morrisey.

Rock them bells.

I was juat talking with Jon about folk, country, and the earliest rock n roll and there's something so exciting about being able to point at a spot where a New Thing has emerged from the influences its synthesised. The Franks Casket is King Tim III by the Fatback Band.

I like modern pop music, but it'd be have more depth if it was as concerned with sin as Lewis, Cash, Presley, and Little Richard were. It's the journey from the pulpit to the cocaine orgy and back that gives each its power. You can't just do the blow, charlixcx, and make art that lasts.

Shane first met Jerry Lee Lewis around the Dennis Quaid biopic. Lewis was propped at the head of an huge table, like a fading Faulkner patriarch. Bottle of rye in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other. Shane took the message as "Either drink with me or die by my hand." He was probably right.

Oh boy. I can hear the arrangement. Fluid, autumnal, barn burning. Cajun accordian. Hank's singing down a key and the voice doesn't resound as it did, but the traded lines with 1989 growling, slightly off-beat, heroin Shane are perfect, like an oak tree in the wind.