None more metal

"I was in New York the other week," says Angry Tom, dejectedly. "It was all right."

This is dropped in the same out of the blue way as he'd said (a bit earlier), "I was out with Peaches Geldof the other week. We went to an Oxide and Neutrino gig" - and in the same slightly depressed tone. Apparently Angry Tom has taken to shouting at non-existent people in his lounge when he gets home drunk. He only knows this because his housemates have told him they've walked on him yelling into thin air.

"I met this guy called Clint," he continues.

"Are you sure she was a girl?" I say, thinking he said 'girl called Clint'. Luckily he doesn't hear.

"He was a heavy metaller," says Tom, who is also not averse to the likes of Iron Maiden. In fact, he's wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. Then, perking up a bit, "He'd lost two of his fingers in an industrial accident. But the thing was, he'd lost these two fingers." Tom signals the middle and ring fingers on his right hand: "His hand made permanent devil horns!"

We crack up. "But that's not all," he continues. "He lost his fingers in a metalwork accident. He'd lost his fingers in the most metal way it's possible to lose your fingers." We laugh some more.

"In America, you can go out drinking on your own - people just come up and talk to you," he goes on.

"Okay," I say, thinking, yes, that sounds quite nice.

"I hate it," says Angry Tom.

"Yes," I reply.

Watch us wreck the Nike

Great stuff from my friend Angry Tom who writes, in an email:

Went to a Nike focus group last night. Heads of Nike Europe watched us from a balcony. They were not impressed with me. Rich's brother organised it. Afterwards he told me: "They wanted some rocawear-loving rude men. Instead they got you clowns. If I ran Nike Europe and I flew in from Amsterdam to listen to you tell him that his new sportswear range looked like Alan Partridge in Flashdance and I'd paid couple of grand for the privilege, I'd be pissed off too."

Tom and the Chinchilla

Got a text from my friend Angry Tom yesterday to tell me that he'd just had "a rather embarrassing encounter" with ex-Art Brut guitarist Chris Chinchilla, who he'd spotted in the street. I said that I hoped he hadn't told Chinchilla about the Harvester advert idea we drunkenly came up with a few weeks back (it involved the man Chinchilla, a small dog wearing a skinny tie and Bob Hoskins). Tom said no:

"I spent five minutes modulating my walking speed so I was awkwardly next to him on New Cross Road. Turned. Smiled. And asked simply... 'Do you know any local guitar collectives?'"