I came into FM Music last Thursday looking for a copy of the new Darkness album. You told me the Darkness were "a fac'in novelty act dressed up as a proper band" and refused to order it in, before spending twenty-five minutes playing me something by a band called Kyuss that I'd never heard of and wouldn't have chosen myself in a million years. I have now listened to nothing else for two weeks. My wife is concerned. I am not. Please keep doing what you do.

Quality. Told ya. You want the whole Kyuss catalogue, come back in, I'll sort ya aht. And tell yer wife she's welcome to come in an' all — I'll do 'er a Fleetwood Mac greatest 'its if she needs easing in gently. Tell 'er it's on me. But tell 'er to come before fac'in Trading Standards shuts me daaahn again, yeah? Just in case.

 

I am writing on behalf of the Trading Standards Authority to notify you that we will be conducting a routine inspection of FM Music's inventory and retail practices on the 14th of next month. We trust you will cooperate fully with our officers and have all relevant documentation available for inspection. Please ensure that all stock is properly labelled and that receipts are available for audit.

Regards,

Whhyy? 'Old on a sec — WHHYYYY? Come in anytime ya like, mate. Everything's in order. Everything's always been in fac'in order. You'll find the stock is pristine, the receipts are immaculate, and there's a cup of tea with yer name on it, which is more than Falcon Records ever got from you lot. Come on the 14th. Come every fac'in day if ya like. I'll be 'ere. I ain't going anywhere. Not this time.

 

It's Marty. Don't pretend you don't know my handwriting. I know you know my handwriting, you've known my handwriting since 1987. I want you to know that I am fine. I have a flat. It is above a dry cleaners and it smells slightly of solvents but I am choosing to interpret this as character. I am working on the cartoons. They are going extremely well. I am also choosing to interpret the fact that you haven't called in three weeks as you being very busy and not as you being a selfish golden-haired bastard. I require you to confirm this interpretation is correct.

Also I need a fiver.

P.S. If you've got any unsold Chilli Peppers stock I'll take it off your hands.

P.P.S. I am only asking about the stock because I genuinely want it, not because I need the money. I do not need the money. Send the fiver.

Mar'ee. I know yer 'andwriting. Obviously I know yer 'andwriting. You're me best mate, not some fac'in stranger off the street. I'll call this week, I've just been mental busy — got a new local band I'm trying to get in, plus some Trading Standards wankery, plus the bloke who delivers the stock 'as been coming on Tuesdays now instead of Thursdays for some reason and it's thrown me completely. I'm sending you a tenner. Don't argue. And yes to the Chilli Peppers. Come daaahn to Southampton soon, yeah? I'll get the Chardonnay in. We'll 'ave a proper catch-up. Like the old days except without the sewers.

 

My name is Mrs. Patricia Wentworth and I am 74 years old. My grandson brought me into your shop last Saturday as he wanted to buy a record. While he was looking around, you made me a cup of tea and spent nearly an hour telling me about someone called Nick Cave. I had never heard of Nick Cave. I have now purchased two of his albums and I find him absolutely marvellous, though I will admit the lyrics have given me some unusual dreams. I also want you to know that my grandson bought four records instead of the one he came in for, so you are very good at your job. My late husband Derek was also a man with a great passion for music, although in his case it was mainly Jim Reeves. I think he would have liked you, though he may have found your language challenging. Thank you for the tea.

Mrs Wentworth, you are an absolute diamond. You come back in anytime ya like and I'll 'ave a pot of tea ready for ya. And I reckon Derek sounds like a solid geezer — Jim Reeves is a perfectly legitimate choice and I'd never say otherwise, even though between you and me it ain't quite underground metal. Tell yer grandson 'e's got good taste and that there's a Pixies album with 'is name on it next time 'e comes in. My language is challenging, you're right. I'm working on it. Slowly. Cheers, Mrs W.

 

I know what you're probably thinking when you see this letter, and I want to say right away that I am NOT him. I am a completely different former work experience student. I did two weeks at a record shop in Brentford in 1997 and it was perfectly fine and I left on good terms and nobody accused me of anything. I just want to say that I think what happened to you was disgusting and that FM Music sounds brilliant and that I have never, ever scratched a CD in my life. I also do not have a car with a personalised number plate. I drive a Nissan Micra. The registration is completely normal. I have receipts for every CD I have ever purchased. Please believe me.

Mate. MATE. Calm daaahn. I believe ya. Not everyone who did work experience in a record shop in the late nineties is 'Im. ...Though I 'ave to say, the fact that you felt compelled to write this letter is making me fink abaht it more, not less, if I'm being 'onest. What's the make of the Micra? And what colour is yer beard? Just curious. Fac'in 'ell.

 

Just wanted to say: Hives, Strokes, White Stripes. The New Rock Revolution. You told me in 2002, when you were in what I can only describe as a non-optimal physical and olfactory condition outside Camden Tube, that these bands were "the future of fac'in rock'n'roll." I told you I thought you were probably wrong. I was incorrect. You were correct. I am writing to acknowledge this formally. Please do not let it go to your head as I believe it is already at capacity.

I TOLD YA. I FAC'IN TOLD YA. Write that daaahn. Frame it. Stick it on the wall next to yer Trading Standards report. The man was right. The man was right even when 'e was in a sewer. Imagine 'ow right 'e is now 'e's got a fac'in Chardonnay and a proper job. Huuuh! Huuuh! Huuuuuh!