So I pop to my local indie shop, sneakily check out a copy of Capital and, yes, it looks pretty damn sweet, if I do say so myself. The main thing I’m relieved about is the size of the wallet (it’s a lush thick card sleeve with a matt booklet, instead of a plasticky ‘jewelcase’ – I’m just well sick of them). I kept hassling Griff, who did the layout, that the dimensions were wrong on the templates and he kept saying “It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” And I kept thinking, “Arrgh, it’s going to be too small!”.
But of course he was totally right all along, it’s exactly the right size. And then, just as I’m thinking that the writing in the booklet is particularly snazzy, someone catches me, luckily a ‘normal’ Brighton friend, not a scenester: “Hur hur! Can’t believe you’re looking at your own CD in the shop, you’re like J.R. Hartley!”
Couldn’t buy a copy either, because the staff would’ve definitely thought I was an idiot.
I tell you what, Macca, if you’re reading this. I’ll do anything you want sexually for 23million quid and I won’t tell anyone.