Editorial

The Hands of God

The Horrible REM

Read & Write Snowmail

Eric Clapton's Football Focus

Pop Analysis: Annie Lennox

Strobe Nostranger is Dead

Snowball Think Tank

Clapto Mania!

Sex

Strobe Nostranger, seer, voyant, playful muso-muse of the West died last night after consuming a busload of drugs.

Thought of by most as being the archetypal Clapton fan, Strobe strove to bring the light to the blind, befuddled masses who were ignorant of the great one (Eric Clapton) and his various swine followers.

Strobe represented Clapton on earth. He resolutely struck down the false prophets with his plectrum of might. Silent to the end, he encouraged the onslaught of Claptosteins.

In his final days he had just gotten round to writing the definitive guide to the history of blues (to be serialised here soon!). Sadly, in his final attempt to emulate his hero (oh foolish youth!) he drank a bucket of vodka, shoveled down a sheet of acid, and consumed countless doughnuts.

How cruel! Farewell Strobe, as Clapton himself once sang:

"I got my plectrum, I strum my guitar, for I am the lonesome Blues man, I am the King, I am the King. When my guitar breaks I take a busload of drugs.
Then I go to the bridge!"

Roland Bath