McCarthy - Banking, Violence and the Inner Life Today

We kept a bottle of champagne in our fridge for years, ready to pop it open when Thatcher died. When it finally happened, we woke up in the middle of the night in Australia, popped that fucking cork and danced around the kitchen.

This album would easily be in my all time top ten, despite it opening with a sample of Thatcher’s nasty, shrill voice, which always sets my teeth on edge.

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McCarthy - Red Sleeping Beauty

A bloke I worked with in the Post Office, was mad into McCarthy, Half Man Half Biscuit and the Wedding Present and the tapes he did for me became the soundtrack to my time trudging round my walk as a postie or flying round on my bike like a maniac.

McCarthy had the best political lyrics. Red Sleeping Beauty is one of the three best Thatch songs (along with Shipbuilding and Tramp The Dirt Down). I still wonder that they remain so relatively unknown.

When I was putting the record back in its sleeve, I noticed it had a stamp on the inside. My extensive research tells me that 376 Pitt St, Sydney is no longer the home of Ashwoods record store, but of Silver Fox massage parlour ($100 for 30 mins, apparently.)

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