Being rushed out by Country Mile Records, so they can sit at the bottom of a postman’s bag for a few weeks.
They’ve all been lovingly licked by Country Mile drones. Don’t they look nice? I wonder how many of them will actually end up in a CD player? It’s like those little blind turtles hatching on the beach, fumbling towards the sea, most of them will be looked at briefly by a radio station production assistant and tossed into a pile where they eventually become compost. I think I’ve mixed up my metaphors there, but you get the idea.