auntie | stalking runes on stilts

The legacy of the British Broadcasting Corporation as laudable custodian of culture is something of a poisoned chalice. Ever financially accountable to its board of governors, and – by extension of its reliance on a mandatory license fee – the public purse, its historic policy of erasing tapes of significance in a bid to balance

after balloon burning…

The wasted tail fin hovers under the radar. Peeling decals fluttering. The cockpit has been hosed down and the instruments crackle on autopilot; a rusting colossus immune to nagging; neglect; and niggardliness. “So far as I’m concerned, the early 70s were the Pretties’ finest twinkling hour. Ladbroke Grove was their acid drenched stamping ground, home