We Change Your Channel

Charlie came to London with ten bucks in her back pocket and a guitar strapped over her shoulder. She called the Pink Flea by accident, and got Seanie on the phone. She was full of stories of horny Brits eager to meet her, and she composed a song every day while waiting to get her ass pinched at the pubs every pretty immigrant falls into in Bloody England. Not surpisingly, her songs were about the desperate men who saw the answers to their prayers in her jeans. "Made my songs better, since I felt like every day was the Battle of Hastings," she says, "And every day good old England would stub its toe on me and curse the heavens. I am on my way to America. I've already got the boots. I'm headed to Nashville, gonna sing about getting pissed on just like Dolly Parton, except my story isn't about my brothers in a small bed but my customers in a grimey pub on a Saturday night, alone, and drunk by seven o'clock." Charlie is our correspondent in Birmingham, England.