Thanks for the Honey, Bitchy Bunny

Gary had gone quiet for over six months. Last we heard, he’d boarded a flight to Tokyo—into the land of orange vending machines and life-size Pikachu sightings—and then nothing. No dispatches, no updates. The kind of silence that means either something went very right or very wrong.

It was a woman, apparently. It usually is with Gary. She got too persistent, he went underground, and that was that—until now. He’s back, and because Gary is Gary, the first major report he files from months of self-imposed radio silence is the rediscovery of S Club 7. Not ironically. The man had been wading through winter-depressed heartbreak soul, some pseudo-goth nothing, and Duffy—who, fine, can actually sing, but still—and then he landed back on "Don’t Stop Moving" like he’d found religion. He says he won’t take his pills now without playing "S Club Party" first, which is either the saddest thing I’ve heard this year or the most sensible morning ritual I can imagine.

All that nineties pop energy has to go somewhere. Some of it apparently goes into producing genuinely horrific Photoshop work. Some into picking fights with small rock bands. Which explains why he’s already on a plane to Queensland, from where he promises to keep filing weekly dispatches on the most important unimportant things happening in the world. He signs off the way he always does: "Thanks for the honey, bitchy bunny."

Good to have him back.