The Thousands

Nobody writes letters anymore. Except Luke You. This week I picked up the latest issue, sat down with a tea and read for the first time about how he’s been plagued with crippling doubt. Unusual, I thought. At some point he realised he would be playing the first gig in a long time as lead guitarist and my anonymous hard working zine hero has appeared to suffer a freak out.

This is weird, because not much seems to freak him, not even the time he damaged his parents car trying to transport the photocopier in the hatchback. Okay, maybe child-birth and bucks parties. But generally this guy struts through life like not even the sucker punch wall on wipe-out can phase him.**So he’s really left his readers hanging this time. But it’s okay. Next week he’ll write another letter to me and you and we can see if he got away with his trademark 90% attitude and 10% tunefulness.