Issue #15 / December 2018

So to continue! You say you would freak the fuck out when you heard that you have only 72 hours to live. I don’t hear you writing anything about your sons and the other band members. Did you forget them?


Dear Carolina,
Just to be clear, I did in fact mention my sons in the second Freak The Fuck Out answer – Issue #12. I said, “I would gather my family together, hold them tightly, and speak some comforting words…” The family I am referring to is my wife and my sons.

You are, however, correct in pointing out that I omitted to mention my band members and, as I read your question, I felt a pang of shame to think that we were all going to be atomised in 72 hours and I had not attempted to say goodbye to them. In my defence, there are very real problems in contacting The Bad Seeds. Firstly, only George answers the phone when I call. Tommy & Marty rarely go near telephones – Tommy has full-blown telephobia and the ever-elusive Marty hasn’t, as far as I can tell, unboxed the Apple iPhone XS Max recently bought for him (at great expense) by our management. Larry only does social media, which I don’t know how to do, and to contact Jim, I have to go through his wife, who I like very much, but who isn’t speaking to me at the moment. Warren and I are so spiritually aligned that we communicate telepathically, which is fortunate as he never rings me back when I call, rather he messages me saying he will ‘call back later’, which he rarely, if ever, does. I have a terrible, lurking suspicion that none of The Bad Seeds like me very much. What I should – or would – therefore do, is contact my assistant, Rachel, and have her send out a group email. The email would say:


Dear Bad Seeds,

As we only have 72 hours until our mutual annihilation, I will keep this brief. You are the very best there is. It has been an honour working with you.

With love to you all,


PS After much thought I have decided to give you all a bonus. It will be deposited into your account within three working days.


Then, I would go back to my family – my wife, my sons, my dogs, my Brian Eno records – and continue to freak the fuck out!

Much love, Nick



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