Spine Shut Ladders

Not bothering too heartily with patience, I have plonked Tom back into bronze position on the back of three new posts. He's not likely to remain there very long, of course, as the posts in question have fairly weak spines, but I may as well give him enough rope and a few inches now before his stakes are finally burnt at the Joan and his fingers slip into oblivion. The top two still seem to be subscribing to the "less is more" school of writing, and are putting themselves on considerably shaky turf, whilst wholesome Stephan holds out for another couple of months and another couple of Booze & Karaoke™ anecdotes. Harry, on the other hand, is busy re-sculpting his fingers for a tunnel at the end of the light. He's even cleaned his train for the occasion.

And then there's Anh Tu. Slumped unceremoniously in a steel tub of coal on Harry's express, he whittles away the hours by thumping monochromatic melodies with the wooden stumps on the ends of his arms, and planning world-beating literature for when the Australian version of the voice recognition software arrives. He's currently exempt from competition, and his punishment is extra ambition.

If Tom And The Pole Cats does indeed hit stores in the near future, Ben will be thrown out of complacency and into the vile pit of the second fiddlers, making room for Tom and his security complex, which comprehensively guards his secret desires and serves as an intimidating backdrop for the inevitable sophomore slump. And he will remain there until one of the other competitors releases a full-length LP. So forever, then.

Somewhere else entirely lies something else entirely, so excuse me.