It’s the OST - really nice edition.

My Splatoon-obsessed son recommends In Filtration from Splatoon 3.

From Streets of Rage 2: Slow Moon by Yuzo Koshiro and Motohiro Kawashima.

Great choice. I’ve got this album on vinyl and it’s excellent from start to finish.

Cwtch is the most obviously Welsh word there.

Talk of the Devils (Manchester United podcast) The Athletic FC (general football) Kino Kingdom (movie podcast by two of my friends) By Far The Greatest Team (football history, my uncle is one of the hosts) The Rest is History (er, history) Doom Tomb (doom metal) Page 94 (UK politics)

Dredicus.

The first Roman fort on the site of the castle was likely built around 55AD.

Exquisite Corpse by Poppy Z. Brite is an experience.

What Does Your Soul Look Like, Pt. 2, by DJ Shadow. On a weekend away, drinking wine with a Spotify playlist on.

There’s an excellent greentext with that as the punchline.

I’d play the hell out of that.

I work from home a lot so I can use my record player, and I’ve got all kinds of stuff ranging from Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey to Electric Wizard and Monolord. I write for a gaming website on the side and often get sent soundtracks to review, so I can spend ages on that as well. It’s mostly what I’m in the mood for, although if I need to concentrate it has to be something without lyrics or I lose focus.

Record collector here too. I can tell you exactly when I started, and it was when I saw a copy of Beggar’s Banquet by the Rolling Stones for 50p in a charity shop. Didn’t even have a record player at the time. Now I’ve got 471 records and counting and spend far too much money on the hobby.

“Schrödinger’s Jew”, as David Baddiel puts it.

I have to tell you that I’ve been compelled to listen to the Tiny Toon Adventures theme song on Spotify, because your username has been stuck in my head all evening.

That’s mesothelioma. You’re thinking of what happens when the doctor tells you you’ve got a different disease to the one you actually have.

I was in Ibiza with some friends (we met famous drug smuggler Howard Marks in Manumission, but that’s not the point of this story). One night two of us were out in San Antonio town, and on the way back to our hotel we spotted a mannequin outside a clothes shop. It was clearly bin collection day the following day, so obviously they didn’t want it any more and clearly we could, indeed we must take it back to our hotel room and put it on the balcony. So we picked it up and walked back towards the hotel. I’m in front holding it across the shoulders, my mate behind me holding the legs. We’re walking past bars and everyone is laughing and cheering us (drunk British people, we’ll cheer anything out of the ordinary).

Then the police turn up in a van. You hear horror stories about being taken to the police station which is miles away and having to pay hundreds in fines, so I instantly become sober. One of them opens the back of the van and says, “In, in.” So we put the mannequin in. In fear and trembling I ask, “What about us?”

And he just says, “You go. Go!”

I’ve never run so fast in my life.

I’m a big music snob, and I’m in my forties, but Decompression Period by Papa Roach hit me really hard the first time I heard it, and it’s always one I go back to. I’ve never had a bad breakup or anything, but it really captures the feeling for me.

I kind of assume everyone has, but if you haven’t read Terry Pratchett, his books are absolutely chock-full of lore, detail and references, some of them so obscure that I haven’t actually got the joke for years.