Here we are, back in the UK. We landed in London late tonight after a seven and a half hour flight, and two hours sitting on the tarmac in Toronto. And now we're back. We've been coming here for fifteen years, and it's so filled with memories good and bad for us.

In 1992, when we released the Yellow Tape on Cheree records over here, we undertook a series of humiliating "we'll do anything" publicity stunts, including busking on the roof of a double-decker bus, and capped off my barging in on the NME editorial board in a pub and playing to them. They were so embarrassed, they refused to acknowledge us, and so began a lifetime of bad press here. We realized that we are now in the "we've stopped giving a fuck what they think" portion of our career, and at the baggage carousel, I proposed doing it all again, just because their reactions would only make me gag with laughter. But I don't hate myself that much, I swear.

I must admit that amidst the diesel fumes, I truly enjoy British passport control at Heathrow. It's the only place in the world where I don't feel like I might go to jail instead of entering the country. Even in Canada, there's this odd paramilitary feeling, like if I say something while looking at my watch I might end up having my high school diploma revoked, and end up sent of to Syria for some good old fashioned extraordinary rendition. Instead, in the UK, it just seems to be a simple exchange of information between allies with their paperwork in order. Welcome back, they say. Glad to be back, I say, have a good evening.

When we were preparing to record Stunt, in early 1998, we went out for dinner with Sue Drew, our A&R person, and our two producers, Susan Rogers and David Leonard. Wine was consumed, and talk turned to politics. Tyler began deriding some politician of the day (who? Clinton? No, probably someone of lesser power), saying "it's not like he's the president of (prim British accent) ohhhh England or anything!" I turn to him and say "and who IS the president of oh England, Tyler?" He looks around the table blankly for a silent moment. "I know," he says,"it's The Maaaaj", referring to the nickname of the host of Toronto Rocks,CityTV's music video show in the 80s, John Majhor, or, more likely, Thatcher's successor.

It was actually Tony Blair's first year in office.

We don't let people live down their mistakes here at Barenaked Ladies, which can be painful, but often handily funny.