It’s disaster time, and the stars are out. Having now heard the appalling single for Haiti, I can firmly say that it is a song I never wish to hear again. But that does not mean I disagree with the principle of the song. For the millions of people that watch X-Factor and relentlessly buy shoddy covers of classic songs because some schmaltzy kid down on his / her luck sings it with a broad enough appeal, this is their way of donating.

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When anyone asks me what I do for a living, I tell them that I criticise people for what I can’t do myself. I can’t write or perform music and I can’t play Rugby League. But yet I write on both these subjects, and criticising people for doing these things infinitely better than I could myself is my way of paying the rent. Call me a professional hypocrite…

Getting paid to write about music sounds ludicrous in itself, John Peel once wrote about being on the radio, “I’ll laughingly call this ‘my career’”, because the concept of simply playing music and being paid to do it was (and still is), quite frankly, too good to be true. Peel couldn’t even do it well most of the time, playing the wrong tracks at the wrong speeds. And it’s the same with writing about music and (just about) keeping the wolves from the door – there are probably a million worse ways to get by in life.
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