This is not an easy question to answer. For while, yes, Bob Pollard is the greatest musical genius known to mankind (and woman kind, 'natch), there is little to commend his prescence to a fast-growing town in the south-west of England, with a reputation for being near nowhere and famous for very little.

So, we hear you ask (yes, we can hear you clamouring, even this far away), what could attract Bob to this place? Well, we looked around, found a few things, and stuck them up here for everyone to see.

To push the boundaries of common sense, here are some pictures of scenic Swindon with a pithy commentary. Imagine you're on a smelly Stagecoach bus with a local guide called Donna with greasy hair, if it'll help. Hell, it'll prob'ly make the whole thing that much bearable. Hold on now, and don't ring the bell unless you really want to get off.

Kindly move to the back of the bus.

To your right, you can see a really low bridge what buses hit all the time. It's only ten foot high. Can't they read or sumpfink?

To your left you can see the famous outlet village, which is a biiiiig shoppin' centre wiv lots of designer clothes at bargin prices. I go there all the time for my fings. It's great.
I don't know what this is, but it's pretty, innit? Bet those 'ouses cost a fortune...
And finally on our tour, the Moonrakers pub. There's some sort of story to it, sumpfink about the moon, and some rakes or sumpfink, oh I dunno. Cor, look at those two roundabouts. 'Ere, are we back at the garige yet?

If you can think of anymore reasons, please email Mavis