Word The Cat

OK so Robbie Williams has finally come out as the Warrior-Bard for a new era of self-made pop gods. The Eschaton finished its fag break and sat back down at its cubicle, needing some pumping tunes to juice to while it finished the spreadsheets by deadline. No problem, dog, we gots what you need. Is this the final death of the weird? Or some kind of geek-esoterica ripple effect as we approach the end of the world? Regardless, the magiks make for great tabloid stories and uncool is the new cool (which is so uncool, when you think about it).

Grant Morrison is Robbie’s new guru. They speak on the phone all the time. Check the sigils if you don’t believe me.

No-one knows yet if, like 2002’s “Escapology”, buying this album makes you sterile. But early reports suggest it does.

Says Grant, regarding his involvement in this: “So, I’m just going to keep doing more and more, more until I achieve mega-karoshi – the state of transcendental employment-as-suicide. You know me.” The flow of ideas into money continues with a weird-eyed grin.