Every time I die... I’ve been thinking a lot about death recently. Not because I’m a maudlin SOB freewheeling through the best years of my life with only broken dreams of long-lost mail orders, incontinence and paying for everything in coppers [very slowly] to look forward to. Mainly it’s because I bought Friday XIII parts 1-8 from our recently shut indie DVD rental shop (RIP Videosyncratic, you were a wonderful place) and with an average of 12-15 killings in each gory, slasher fuck-em-up thriller, these kinds of things do tend to come up. So – dear 405 readers and correspondents – I thought it best to make note of exactly what you should do on the eventuality of my death, and where better to do it than in my monthly column..? What with hockey-faced serial killers hanging around every leafy glade, and my propensity to do things sure to lead to my untimely death by fucked-off, undead once-bullied murderers – y’know it seems the right thing to do. And so it shall be: While a horde of scantily clad trumpeteering hussies play the Candyskins greatest hits in slow and sombre mood, much like a Viking I expect to be placed on a 405 branded shroud, lain on a significantly large, wooden raft and sailed down the Thames. Set on fire as I go, it would be great if any surviving members of Chumbawumba could be sacrificed as my corpse chars – but most important shall be the aftershow party, DJ’ed expertly by Wil 405, playing a bevy of Papa Roach hits… We’re talking Between Angels and Insects, Infest and even Broken Home. Meanwhile, guest of honour will be Andrew WK - compeering the entire show with his own special brand of intense, yet massively personable, partying… But finest of all – there will be an open call begging Helen Love to reform especially for the occasion. For anyone who hasn’t heard Swansea’s finest – the purveyors of the most magnificent bubblegum pop since time immemorial, imagine a big swathe of gorgeous summertime, skateboard aceness, bashed out on a £3.50 keyboard locked at 200bpm – all served with a healthy Joey Ramone obsession, and you’re pretty much there. They may only play two gigs or so every decade, but on reading this heartfelt plea – I’m sure Helen would relent and bash out a few tracks. So there you go, and like that it’s all sorted, with not a bobsleigh in sight… Although, thinking about it would it not be better to be pushed a bobsleigh ramp at the Winter Olympics… Oh yes! Just make sure I have my lucky egg… You can find out more about Alcopop Records by clicking HERE