The Frank And Walters are shiny happy people. They sing in short sparkling couplets. Their three piece suite is in the shed and they think songs get baked. They are manic and quite mad and I love them.

These Leeside darlings of the music press have thrown themselves to the critical lion's den with not even a glance in the direction of attitude and they've come up grinning. Now that Paul Heaton's cough has been irretrievably softened in the comfortable confines of The Beautiful South, the field is clear for an outfit operating at a slight tilt to the rest of the world to corner the market in delirious pop ditties and wry observations on life and anything else that grabs their attention.

'Trains, Boats And Planes' is a funny album. So funny that it makes you laugh out loud and urges you to share their dandy rhythms with the woman wilting next to you on the bus. A decent dose of The Frank And Walters might be just the ticket to transform her solemn countenance into an animated part of her anatomy again.