Bible Of BadnessNumbers is the fourth book of the Bible, one where the Israelites are wandering around, fatalistically looking for a home. Had their Father forsaken them, had they plumped for the wrong religion after all? Its alright being the chosen ones, but when the requirements of your God get more twisty than Chubby Checker in a twisting competition then you might be justified in thinking that fate had dealt you a big hand of nothing. But who would have the guts to say that out loud, who knows what kind of fatwa could be called down on their heads.

The Magic Numbers on the other hand are a band whose nepotismic line up cannot be too far from the marriage situation with Adam and Eve’s kids. Its a bit of a Cain and Abel situation: though I am not suggesting anything as fatal as incest here, there are plenty of partners for the Gannon and Stoddart kids to plump for. But from the rotunda of life choices, being in a band with your sibling leads you to directly to living the plot of Joseph and his Technicolour Dreamcoat. Clearly there were lots of families going round in the band of Israelites, so this would be a direct parallel, with the Stoddart family who were hounded out of Trinidad, Venezuala and the US: one assumes for playing lousy blues rock.

I for one cannot fathom how this band of no-hopers ever got popular. Of course I hate all music but I can imagine even a so-called music fan being in the audience for a Magic Numbers gig and being well-fed up with the performance. They don’t even have larger than life personas. Its just lanky hair (washed in lard one supposes), weak guitars and fatuous harmonies. It would not exactly feed the a public greedy for innovation of novelty. But then the British audience have never been one to embrace chance, its not exactly fatalistic of me to see the public going pie-eyed over yet another band of guitar toting fools. One might think that a woman in my position might get fatigue, watching yet another band of no-hopers becoming the next big thing. What is worse I can’t even work out whether its the blokes or the birds in the Magic Numbers who have the beards.

I wish they would get forever lost.

(There. I managed to do it without stooping to the level of Richard Bacon!)