I am no expert on the UK Grime scene. All I know is that over the past year I have found myself enjoying more and more of it, finding its beats and frenetic rapping an invigorating change from white, angular rock bands. Roll Deep, Lethal B and now Sway, whose first official album This Is My Demo has gone to number one on the 6 Music Chart. His real name is Derek, a fact he acknowledges and makes fun of on tracks like Little Derek ("Little Derek's doing OK/Little Derek's doing fine/Little Derek's doing cool etc."). I am particularly partial to the track Download, on which he bemoans the fact that although he's tipped for the top he doesn't sell any records, as everybody's downloading the tunes. This seems to be borne out by the fact that he is number one in our chart, and not the Official UK Chart (where his album went in at 45 and dropped this week to something like 72). And after the reams of broadsheet and specialist press coverage he's enjoyed, usually wearing a bandana over his face to increase da mystique, you might think mainstream success would be his. But no.

Sway should be glad. Look at how unhappy and shifty success has made my favourite band Arctic Monkeys. (I am not selling the album pictured above, by the way, even though it has a price tag on it.)

I don't know if Plan B is Grime. I like him very much as well.

Some of the corpsing is amusing
Each Sunday, Richard Herring comes in to my radio show and we talk about what's in the Sunday papers. If it goes well, we laugh a lot. Today, we laughed too much. It is known in the trade as "corpsing" - that is, being unable to speak due to laughter. It is not rare than one of us laughs a lot; it is rare that neither of us is able to speak. We had attempted to cover the story in the News Of The World about some rugby players filming themselves "roasting" a young lady in a kitchen. It's not important what we actually said, only that it was Richard's fault that we both descended into tearful, choking laughter - which I can only hope was a joyful sound on the radio. I had to play the next record early to restore normal service. The moral of this tale is: you can make light of serial killers and bird flu and the news in the Mail On Sunday that all cabinet ministers are to be given Jaguar cars (all tax issues at the end of the day), but there is no way, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon on a Sunday to satisfactorily interrogate the concept of "roasting", despite it being featured often in newspapers that are available to buy by small children, without conjuring images that you don't wish to have in your mind.

Is there a worst surprise than a bad nut? I was happily scoffing some organic, roasted hazelnuts this afternnon and I had a bad one. The only thing to do is keep eating to get the taste out.