Saturday, 6 March 2010



John was very handsome in the sixties and, y'know, we all wanted to be like film stars, didn't we?

John being John, with his secretary. Wot, an abuse of power, not me, cock, d'yer wanna punch in the gob? The Deputy prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

John, tired and emotional, with a totty.

John and Pauline. 'E just said to me, when 'e came in, Upstairs Pauline and I said Oh, John, you are naughty and 'e said No, I've got summat t'tell ya. Oh, I said, are you gonna divorce me? No, but ya might wanna divorce me, after I tell ya wots in't papers to-morrow..... But, I have to say that since the, um, affair, I'm in charge, now, and I speak my mind, like, when e guz off the deep end. Was I ever gonna leave him, No, never. Alright she was young enough to be his daughter, but it's me 'e loves, and the lads.

'E makes me walk into State opening of parliament on me own. cos a me 'ats, says I look too smart but I said Tony walks in wi' Cherie an' there's no way I'm gonna go t't State opening wi'out me 'at. I got standards. Aye, Pauline, course ya do.


Carly Simon had a hit record over forty years ago and it's kept her in cosmetic surgery ever since. You're so Vain, it was called and the narcissistic, junk-wasted tossers of rock's hierarchy were intrigued to know who it was, that was so vain. In the way of these things, shit journalists also ramped-up the urgency in identifying the song's addressee, there's only so much you can write abour rock music, even though Carly was a long way from rock music, but she had tits, eh, and a colourful love life, bedding the intolerably twee junky James Taylor, and probably a whole regiment of West Coast tossers.

It was a piece of dross, then, You're so Vain and it's a piece of dross now but Carly, bless her, has decided to put the world out of it's misery by re-recording, in a baritone growl, the original meisterwerk and inserting the name David, somewhere in the anodyne chorus. Like journalists do, Woman's Hour was all over the non-story, imagining that the public obsessed, these last forty years about Carly's lovers. Who, the proper response, especially from Woman's Hour would have been, gives a fuck about this old tart and the preposterous myths of the sixties?

So many talented female writers and singers around needing airplay and deserving wider recognition but trust the BBC to, instead, fall in line behind Hollywood marketing men. It's as though Woman's Hour was vying with the ghastly Michael Parkinson, to produce the most distinguished celebrity brown-nosing experience known to man. Or woman.


Rasmus said...

The last time I saw a mouth like that was at Ascot. There were some very similar on the horses too.

Rightwinggit said...

I believe it's known as a three dick gob.

Anonymous said...

trust the BBC to, instead, fall in line behind Hollywood"I would prefer the BBC to fall into a pit full of sharpened baboo stakes that had been dipped in shit just to be sure you know. 900 of them to cover the olypic games, millions paid to sexual deviants with speach impediments each year for playing fucking records. £94,000 to some tart who does the odd interview for radio Norwich. The world service that employs announcers who speak a form of English I am not familar because its PC with perhaps they forget that many people listen to try to improve their English, good luck as they will need it. As for Simon she is away with the mixer said on construction sites along with Maddona refers to us as, no don't laugh civillians, Sumner, Bonio, Sir Bob and I wonder how he is fookin taking the news that his money raised went on buying chrome plated Kalshnikoves and a few more wives fo the top boys who were not fat and thin from hunger. In the final analasyis as to who Dave is who gives a flying fuck?

woman on a raft said...

She was right, though, about Geffen.

He's still walking up to yachts - the Rising Sun, co-owned with Larry Ellison - and yes, I'm interested because who else is abord, why it's comme des garcons, Tony Blair et Lord Mandelson.

call me ishmael said...

Fuck Geffen. Jackson Brown would have come through anyway and the rest of them are effete over-indulged junky wankers, idiomatic, I suppose of white America, the Eagles, Zevon, Ronstadt,Taylor, Oh Mama my shit's fucked up. Who cares. Chuck Nerry, now, my kind of Uncle Sam.

Saw some bloated billionaire pig on the box, just now, they said it was Jon Landau, producer of Avatar, whatever that is. Is he the same Jon Landau who founded the Rolling Stone pop comic and invented everyone's favourite blue-collar folkie, Bruce Springsteen? No business like showbusiness, this, of course, being the lesson Mandelstein taught Tony and Imelda.

mongoose said...

Bread and circuses, Mr Ishmael. Everything else is tosh.

call me ishmael said...

Chuck Berry.

Anonymous said...

While you are at it tell Mr Sumner not to "stand too close to me" as he may well get a smack in the kisser perhaps his Amazonian mates might have a cure for a fat lip?

call me ishmael said...

Aye, utterly revolting, all three of them but Sumner especially so, even by the standards of UK showbusiness he's a hard act to beat.

mrs narcolept said...

Did you hear that disc of him murdering lute songs? Horrifying.

call me ishmael said...

No, I reads about it, Mrs n and managed to avoid it, same with the Police, best avoided.