The ancient White Horse in Uffington, Oxfordshire, is my most favourite place in the world.  Its timeless beauty of undulating waves of hills, carved when a melting glacier rumbled down this old valley, finds me at one with Mother Nature.  To sit where George slew the Dragon, spilling its blood and leaving a patch of forever-bare chalk (on which no grass since has grown) inspires modern storytelling.  The silence that surrounds this thoughtful place allows the mind to drift back to how it must have been to live at the adjacent Iron Age fort and ponder distant cultures and their basic, yet iconic, art forms still present in the chalk carving of a simple horse.  Paddy Power's recent addition of a jockey astride this ancient monument is the worst case of  neo-equine graffiti I've ever seen.  It's like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa and saying "Don't worry, it wipes off."  When Banksy started to appear in my home town of Bristol, his offerings were clever statements that added to dull stretches of urban concrete.  Paddy Power's neolithic vandalism offers no such aesthetic life comment.

There is a skill mixing old and new cultural influences.  Till Lindemann achieves this by remaining true to his Germanic roots (his timbre and rhyme are strikingly similar to that of the Nibelungenlied (Song of the Nibelungs), a medieval German epic poem of over 1,000 verses.)  Yet he adds his own lime twist of observational statement by choosing difficult themes to write lyrics to, such as childhood anxiety, all types of love and dependency.  His lyrics gather pace like the rolling hills at Uffington, undulating as you speak them.  Take this verse from Angel  "Only when clouds go to sleep, A glimpse of us you surely peep; We are afraid, we are alone - God knows, I don't want to be an Angel."  Perfect in form and delivery, casting new light on familiar themes. Paddy Power, learn from this:  take a giant eraser and scrub your moniker from our green and pleasant land.