Dear The Lightning Seeds
Re: Sugar Coated Iceberg
My wife Jean and I are enthusiastic viewers of the popular 'science entertainment' programme ‘MythBusters’, which is about two American men who conduct detailed experiments in order to disprove or affirm long held beliefs or statements. Despite repeated requests to the show's producers, I have so far been unable to watch an episode addressing your above-mentioned song's seemingly ludicrous pivot and thus had no option other to take it upon myself and my wife to devise our own non-televised edition which was not aired this morning at precisely 10.30am. As pensioners with no access to the coffers or technological gubbins of the ' slacker scientists'' benefactors, The Discovery Channel, Jean and I have had been reduced to utilising household constituents and crockery in order to keep each simulation pure and simple every time.
Assuming that you are not referring to the compact-leafed rabbit food staple, we have this morning assembled a 1:894.54 scale model of a typical iceberg within its natural habitat of exceedingly cold water, the measurements of which have been modelled on a 1” squared equivalent to the mean average Titanic scuppering mass (most typically between 3.3 feet and the dizzy heights of 246 feet) of 74.54 feet.
Our first practical was initially to employ a blackcurrant Jubbly, which I am ashamed to confess was, perhaps subliminally, selected by myself on account of its close simulacrum of a bona fide liner sinker. However, as I was making towards the larder for the first crystalline carbohydrate laminate Jean correctly counselled me that the stickless popsicle's compound ingredients would only have occurred in nature if a cargo or freight vessel associated with Calypso Soft Drinks Ltd. had met with a calamity, but that, since the internet yielded no record of such a maritime debacle or resultant asulfame / stabiliser slick, a more unadulterated faux-floe would be needed in order to retain empirical veracity. A common or garden ice-cube was therefore employed in its stead.
To commence the trial a shallow sided nibbles bowl which had most recently been host to a large helping of Sainsbury's Basics cashews was thoroughly rinsed out to eliminate the presence of any sodium residuals which may potentially haved skewed the sequitur*. We then let the tap run for a minute before carefully reducing its flow to a near drip and filling the receptacle to a depth of one inch. The frozen rhomboid was then precariously and centrally lowered in with a pair of pre-chilled tea bag tongs designed to avoid exposure to thumb and forefinger tepidity and then, entering into a small window of opportunity, before the frigid chunk would start to melt and the quasi ocean warmed up, we speedily poured the entire gritty spectrum, from the diaphanous dust of icing to the cumbersome bolder of demerara (via caster and granulated) directly onto its upper face
The results, Sir, were unanimous; in the case of each pouring the sugar dissolved immediately upon contact with its target and permeated it, breaking down the molecular structure in the same way as sodium would have done and causing the frosted mass to rapidly decompose into the surrounding fluid.
In conclusion, your UK number 14 hit has, I regret to inform you, been nullified.
As regards to your instruction that I should fly away on sugar coated wings, whilst is to be admitted that any aircraft in which I may be conveyed would likely still achieve take off if its ergonomic appendages were thus drizzled, Jean and I are keen animal lovers and were therefore not inclined to subject any avian or insect specimens to a similar glucose pinion sprinkling, to say nothing of the fact that we are both too bulky to sit astride such creatures. Furthermore, Jean had now become quite terse and informed me that we had already spent far too much time on this nonsense and were now late for a bacon doorstep sandwich at Freda’s Tea Room, Stafford Road, with our friends Wilf and Olive Turnbull.
I would like to say that overall we much enjoy the back catalogue of your fulmination pip-mantled 'indie group', but would recommend that further cavity threatening serenades reference not the whimsical but that readily available at newsagents or supermarkets such as the nearest counterpart to your unfeasible confection, the Fox's Glacier Mint.
*Aware that, technically, saltwater would still have been conducive to the procedure we were not in possession of a Saxa-infused drink chiller at the time
Reply from Ian Broudie, received 20/8//2014
It's a letter and a half. I have no answer to thar. Partly because I can't get past the first paragraph