what could be finer than prising your eyes open through the fog of slumber, to be greeted by a programme about birds in wartime ('we spoke to a german who wanted to hear all the meaty war stories about our time in the falklands...and all we could talk about were all the birds we saw..he thought we were mad')

and then a marc riley narrated programme about Nico ('i was four when i realised my childhood was not normal...i was never in bed before five in the morning....taking drugs and things like this'......'how young'...'four....my mother (Nico) used to put a bit on my nose when i was nervous or anxious to calm me down'

it's like Peel and his famous description of the fall...always different...always the same

where would civilization be without it?