The blackness scale. In order of increasing blackness:

1) Michael Jackson.
2) The night sky viewed from the edge of a mid-sized town in Hertfordshire.
3) The neighbour’s cat. It would have been higher but for the fact that it has white paws.
4) Coal.
5) James Brown (see also: the proudness scale).
6) James Brown’s hair.
7) A cormorant drowning in an oil slick. At night.
8) Jeremy Kyle’s soul.
9) The empty gaping void of all-consuming nothingness that will take the place of the Earth after the inevitable apocalypse has rinsed you and all you sinners out of the cosmos’s bowl.
10) Robedoor.

If you need any more proof that Robedoor are the blackest thing of which it is possible to conceive, have a listen to “Penitent Runes”, and then pause to consider that they have hewn (at least) two albums so far this year of this churning, howling, throbbing matter from the rockface at the end of time. Do whatever you need to do, to whoever you need to do it, in order to get your hands on either or both of these.

Start your journey to the dark side of the dark planet at Not Not Fun.