ZOMG!
For the love of God, somebody take my debit card off me now. I can’t be trusted with it.
I’m telling myself that I wouldn’t pay £45 for a statuette of any of my Rock Band characters. Then I remember that I was nerdy and obsessive enough to spend the better part of half an hour painstakingly positioning all the letters for Kris (my heroin-victim vampire-punk guitarist)’s “YOUR FAVOURITE BAND SUCKS” shirt and I worry.
There is literally no chance I’ll resist the band t-shirts.
Between the cash-hoover effect of the regularly-released downloadable tracks (She Sells Sanctuary, Love Spreads, Bad To The Bone, All Right Now and the whole Blood Sugar Sex Magik album in the last 3 weeks alone, f’rinstance - bloody HELL) and the struggle I’ve had trying to clear the last few songs on Hard difficulty, living with Rock Band has been like frequenting a specialist club in Soho. Once a week I hand over money to get slapped around, and I absolutely love it.
Let’s pause here to allow you to get that mental image out of your head. Sorry.
