THE WILDHEARTS frontman Ginger has issued the following recording update:

"The solitary runner smiled at the shy old sun inching, with almost timid hesitation, atop the Danish landscape. With the choir of sparrows and finches cheering on it's performance, like a reticent starlet appearing naked on the stage it's confidence grew with every new shaft of sunlight that blasted away the dawns remnants from the blanket of cornfields.

The lonely runner no longer felt alone. The connection wasn't merely with the grand light show on offer, nor was it only with the birds providing the gleeful soundtrack, but with everything around.

'How could one not believe in a God, the supreme force behind all of this?', the runner silently remarked.

How indeed could the existence of the greatest power be denied in such circumstances? The runner needed to look no further than the butterfly crossing his path, who's origins could not be more far fetched than if fabricated by the greatest imaginations on earth.

An insect crawls into its self made sleeping bag, dissolves completely, then reforms as an entirely new organism which then flies out of the previous insect's cocoon.

'With', the runner remarked 'no more of a molecular link with that caterpillar as I have with the road beneath me'. It would be stranger to think that there wasn't a God.

Me, on the other hand am starting to get really sick of these fucking flies.

Flies, man, they're like that episode of South Park with the super Nannies, where Cartman is incapable of behaving in a normal, rational manner.

Flies, man, they're in the house, they're in the studio. They shit on the plates, they puke on the food. They try to crawl around on your face, and when you 'shoo' them off, it's like they're annoyed at your for stopping them from shitting and puking on your lip?

So what is God's idea behind the fucking fly then?

Maybe the souls of those that caused suffering in others, sent here for one last bout of punishment to be the most annoying species on earth, and if they don't get swatted by a spatula looking contraption they'll get caught by a spider and slowly drained of their juices? A shit life for shit people?

Shit, you even eat shit. You live on shit. Then you shit your shit on a plate while you scavenge leftovers you can't eat unless they're covered in puke. Your puke.

They have a fly swatter in the studio with which they swipe these pesky fuckers to death with stealth like ease. I'm told it's the holes in a fly swatter that make it unnoticeable to a fly, the air between your hand and the fly being the dead giveaway for the little critter. I'm also told that swiping two rolled-up newspapers at once confuses the fly and makes them easier to target.

Until today I liked to think I was the kind of guy who would literally not hurt a fly, but if these motherfuckers don't stop landing on my mouth I'm getting me a swatter and I'm killing me some rapists.

Feeling very, very good.

I'm up before everyone again, having got my run in nice and early this morning. I like to run four songs there (wherever 'there' ends up being) and four songs back. With the iPod on shuffle sometimes you get RAMONES and sometimes you get RUSH. Today my iPod wanted to go out doors for longer so it cooked up some epics. Funny how they know, huh?

Yesterday we finished the vocals on Scott's as-yet-untitled song, and awesomely heavy slab of pop punk that sounds remarkably radio friendly. It would be great to see the band garner a larger audience based on something that Scott sang. The new audience assuming that he's the lead singer, would then force me to take my dream role as guitar player and second vocalist.

Hey, you often get exactly what you wish for.

So God, if you're not too busy making flies out of corrupt politicians, I'd like to be Scott's back-up singer on the next album please. Can you make that happen?

-clicks heels three times-

Fuck, now there's even more flies. We're not in Manhattan now, Toto."

Ginger