The way to deal with tourists.

The Sun makes me laugh.

For those of you with a concern for the greater picture or politics in general, you'll probably be aware of the fuss stirred by the new EU Treaty.

Gordon Brown, having pledged a referendum on the original constitution, has backtracked all over Labour's election manifesto and put pen to paper on the treaty without asking the people.

Bless its heart, The Sun has campaigned relentlessly to overturn this decision and even offered a petition which it would send to Downing Street demanding a referendum on the matter.

I just read the paper online and as it turns out, 28,000 readers have signed the petition.

The nation has spoken, says The Sun.

Err, that's all well and good. But what about the rest of our 65 million strong population. You know? The ones who didn't answer your petition?

28,000 readers call for action, so the other 64 million of us are overruled. I'm sorry, but you do the fricking maths.

Regardless, how many people actually read The Sun? I'm guessing a few million at least. If only 2% of the readers have bothered to answer the petition, you don't have much of a leg to stand on.

I'm paranoid when it comes to feeling like a burden. And right now, I can sense the unease and discomfort whenever it appears that I'm going to say too much (ie. open my mouth). Diplomacy is not for me however, so screw it, I'll say nothing at all.

I can be pretty ruthless when it comes to wiping people out of my life. I don't get in to arguments, but I remove all traces of contact and make no effort to heal the rift. It's not that I'm particularly angered by the latest friend to try my patience, because we haven't even argued, but rather they've scrambled my mind with so many mixed messages and kickbacks that to be honest, I'd rather just block and delete out of my head.

Unfortunate but probably for the best, by the sounds of it.

Ten days and I still haven't found time to mention the fantastic experience of seeing of Montreal at the ULU. I have what's bordering on an obsession to the Atlanta band, but when you discover a relatively unknown gem with a huge back catalogue of great music, it's much more memorable than nodding along to the latest XFM hit.

I've decided that I can't stand overly masculine music. The death metal and heavy grunge bands of the world do nothing for me, and likewise, sacrificing melody for artistic snobbery is like taking the sound out of a song. I've got a massive soft spot for of Montreal - and psychedelic rock in general. From Apples in Stereo to Beulah, Caribou to Neutral Milk Hotel. I appreciate any band that's willing to put itself out there and add some colour to what it pumps through the speakers.

It's a little hypocritical for me to preach it, being the massive Radiohead fan that I am, but artists that insist on the importance of pop should be given a lot of credit. I admire Kevin Barnes in particular, for releasing probably the best pop album of the year, when the subject matter relates to his flirtation with suicide and deep depression. How many other bands would drown in their own melodramatic misery?

There's also something pretty mundane, to me, about going to see a band that simply stands on its spot and plays its instruments without the slightest bit of crowd interaction. Which is why I love bands in the Elephant 6 collective who rally the audience and stir up something a little more uplifting than a moshpit. They're definitely the type of artists that are better to go and see with girls though. My friends struggled to get past the outrageous outfits and camp posturing, which is half the fun where psychedelic bands are concerned.

You have to be able to tuck away your alpha male streak, slap on some purple blush and gyrate like it's 1964 all over. Alright, the purple blush is just a fantasy of mine. But I still had an awesome experience.

The next time of Montreal roll in to town, I'll be rallying up my party girl friends for an emasculating dance-off. And I'm hoping Our Last Summer as Independents will be recorded by then.

Did I write about the guy with the warped understanding of tourists? I was walking through London a few weeks ago when a babble of Japanese school girls approached a rather hurried looking businessman with their digital cameras in tow.

"Can you take a picture?" they must've said.

He promptly took the camera, smiled, snapped his own face, gave the camera back and walked off.

I found it absolutely hilarious.