Welcome all to ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ป๐ผ๐น๐น๐โ๐ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐๐๐ฌ ๐ผ๐ง๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ฅ๐ค๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฉ playlists.
๐๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ง๐ – ๐๐๐ผ๐
Charles by name, Charles by natureโฆ
I am just back in London. Like, JUST. Right now, it is 3:30pm on Monday (time of writing). I got back home just before 2pm. So with just enough time for a quick bite to eat, here I am. Duty and all that. I can tell I am back in London because as soon as I left my nearest station, the air had a strong smell of weed. Then I was deafened by a helicopter and an angle grinder (which I morbidly call an angel grinder). And then I turned onto the cheap, filthy high street. Ah, home sweet home. So where have I beenโฆ? Well, I was at a wedding. Not my own. It was to be the wedding of a dear old friend of mine, who I have known since I was 14. Iโm older now. And so is he. In recent years, he has moved to Canadia. Which is probably nice. His wife is Canadian. Who is probably nice – I met her for the first time at the wedding – seemed nice. There was most certainly a theme of niceness throughout the whole shindig, for my dear friend has always been known as the nicest man in town. Whichever town. So, they had a wedding in Canada, and then had a second wedding in England – quite a nice gesture, considering plane ticket pricesโฆ But this was not to be in London. No no, they wanted it to be somewhere actuallyโฆ How shall I put itโฆ Nice. So they picked somewhere in the middle of nowhere. A farm. A barn, to be more specific. The Barn, to be quite precise (for that was its name). What this meant for me, of course, was the possibility of a rather lovely weekend away with my girlfriend. A weekend in the English countryside, away from the horror of London (itโs truly getting to me these days).
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