Hello, viewers. rich and poor. And I don't want you to be all jealous, but this is Mark Knopfler's Strat, which I'm holding here. Mark, as I call him, let's me hold it for him. Yes, how delightful, my Juliet to his Romeo.
Just one of the benefits which accrue to one after a lifetime spent toiling as the PBC's Arts BrownNose in Chief, yes, Belbin Bagg with stubble.
But the arts world is simply fizzing, darlings, with the latest celebrity news.
Mr Ronald Wood, 72, a popular, elderly light entertainer, has announced that his wife, Ms Moira Gold-Digger, 38, is expecting twins.
Mr Wood, a famous narcotics addict, drunkard, layabout and romancer of young-enoughs-to-be-his-grand-daughter is said to be delighted by the news. Yeah, man, like I'm really chuffed to bits. Oh, I know there's an age thingy, like, a taboo, 'sthat whatchacallit? cos me Mrs, the current one, is, like, rather older than what I'm used to shaggin',
after all, but I suppose that at 38 she could still just be me grand-daughter an' so me twins'll, instead of bein' me kids, like, 'll be like they was me grandkids, no, me great-grandkids, that's better, me great grandkids. An' so all's well what ends well, like wot it says in the Bible. Great book, by the way, 'swhatchacall spirichul.
Yeah, spirichul, yeah, man, like Exile On Main Street.
Only I didn't play on that one.
Nah, s'pose not.
S'pose I didden play on any o' the good Stones records.
But it's all kinda spirichul, yeah, even the golden oldies retreads what we do. Sprichul music, man.
Ravver like me an' Keef,
when we do our shit, man.
Sprichul.
Old men, sat on their park-bench like knob-ends
Names? Nah, we int fawta no names yet. Although if they're boaf boys there's no question, istha, what we'll call em?
Yeah, the Two Ronnies, that should do it.
Divorce? Yeah, 'xpect so, int there always, but that's rock'n'roll, innit? I 'xpect she'll get custody, yeah, not much use in me 'avin 'em, dahn in the old folks rehab unit, istha?
Godparents? Yeah, Mick'n'Keef obviously. An' I fawt we might 'ave a coupla blokes wot's bin there an ' done that, an' could set the little buggers a good example. Yeah, got the tee-shirt.
As a young family, purchased from the very best of baby emporiums, we shall be thrilled to bits to stand-up for our dear friend, Ronnie's, children, and help them make the right choices through life. Y'know, speed or cocaine? Bondage or Fisting? Or both? Yeah, both.
Their mother?
Oh, please.
What's their mother got to do with anything?
Snarling as a young parent, myself, and, I may say, as Ronnie and the other Beatles' biggest fan, I have always considered parenthood to be the most important point on my moral personal compass. Y'know, I'm a son of the Manse, and people like m'self, we take these things very seriously, in my own case, waiting until the very last possible moment to become a typical young parent; my one child passing away in our most wonderful national health service, another child being disabled but Look, that's the point of having vaahl-ewes. And doing the right thing for the Countrty. And Sarah and I will be pleased to act as godparents to the two Ronnies. The very next time I see her.
And now, another heart-warming story from my world of talented, gifted and charitable people
DWARF, TAX-EVADING HUMANITARIAN ARSEHOLE EXPLOITS PARIS BOMBING.
DWARF, TAX-EVADING HUMANITARIAN ARSEHOLE EXPLOITS PARIS BOMBING.
Swami Guru Professor Paul O'Bono joins other clapped-out old codgers on stage in Paris.
Totally and utterly gutted and devastated by his fellow man's inhumanity, the wretched little fuck, desperate to get in on the ISIL act, invited Death Metal Eagle or whatever they call themselves, to share his limelight on a Paris stage.
Fucking typical of the man,
said his fellow humanitarian,
Mr Bob ArseGob.
All Bono knows how to do is fucking share.
Only not his earnings.
And just because my family seem to kill themselves rather than be around me doesn't mean I am not a truly special human being.
Mr Death Metal, 75, and his lead guitar player, 79, voiced their profound gratitude.
Oh, like Wow, man.
OK, them Muslin Ninja guys were a bit better at the Death Metal part than we ever was, Man,they cooked, but Hey, we're just elderly rock'n'rollers, hopin' to get some young French pussy before our last few teeth fall out and then, Pow, man, and thanks to those guys, we're only fuckin' supportin' U fuckin' 2, man. Imagine that, supportin' U2. Even our shitty old albums are flying off the shelves, or whatever happens to 'em, these days. Anyways, we're getting some bread.
An' there's paparazzi followin' us all around.
Askin' us what we think.
'Slike they say:
That guy, Allah, he really is good.
Fucking typical of the man,
said his fellow humanitarian,
Mr Bob ArseGob.
All Bono knows how to do is fucking share.
Only not his earnings.
And just because my family seem to kill themselves rather than be around me doesn't mean I am not a truly special human being.
Mr Death Metal, 75, and his lead guitar player, 79, voiced their profound gratitude.
Oh, like Wow, man.
OK, them Muslin Ninja guys were a bit better at the Death Metal part than we ever was, Man,they cooked, but Hey, we're just elderly rock'n'rollers, hopin' to get some young French pussy before our last few teeth fall out and then, Pow, man, and thanks to those guys, we're only fuckin' supportin' U fuckin' 2, man. Imagine that, supportin' U2. Even our shitty old albums are flying off the shelves, or whatever happens to 'em, these days. Anyways, we're getting some bread.
An' there's paparazzi followin' us all around.
Askin' us what we think.
'Slike they say:
That guy, Allah, he really is good.
25 comments:
Predictable as fuck - I think Ishmaelites called the U2 Live at the Budokan wank-probability right here a couple of weeks ago. Wonder if Boner did his "every time I clap my hands" routine...
You better sit down before I admit to this, Mr Ish, but the late 60's Stones still make it through my speakers from time to time, especially the Mick Taylor patch. But fuck me, they don't learn, do they? I forced myself to watch a bit of the BBC footage of Glastonbury when they headlined, and it was bizarre as well as shit - the crowd seemed to be loving it, and I can only think that they were responding to a collective herd-memory of old tracks instead of the actual rank mess coming off the stage; a kind of delayed-reaction i-pod hallucination or something.
verge.//
Now come on Mr I, you really can't blame Bono and the Boys for cashing in on a 'retail opportunity'. After all, they failed to make into the Forbes 'Top 15' richest musicians' music chart chart this year! But just in case you're worried, 'we've' been holding our end up with Lady-Sir Elton John just easing himself in at number 15 (a cool $53.5m) and your old friends, The 'Stoned', putting in a very creditable performance at number 11 ($57.5m - a truly catatonic performance!). As for the 'deaf' metal folks, well if they make a few dollars out of it on the side, I don't feel so bad - at least they were there scrambling for their lives amongst the bullets and blood and horror of it all.
Meanwhile, in other 'news', I see that our Son of the Manse has had to return to 'work' following his early retirement, taking on his first major private sector role as an adviser to Pimco, one of the world's largest asset managers ($1.5 trillion under management - but not for long I wager!), alongside other 'heavy weight' public officials such as former ECB President Jean Claude Trichet. WTF? WTF is he there to do? Maybe tell 'em what not do?...
I was watching the Paris thing round a chum's house and we were rooting for the band being Bon Jovi but U2 would have put a whole new complexion on 'Liberty or Death' - urm, could we have a bit of both prapps?
That picture of Elton and the 2 nothingtodowiththem kids is rather grotesque, brainwashing made manifest. Let's hope it's nature rather than nurture and when the bald cunt dies it's before they're 21 so their trust funds kick in rather than the inevitable disinheriting them at university for some random, petty sleight. That he goes round offering to mentor 'troubled' stars yet can't be arsed to see his mum would only cause the analyst to venture more than 2 words when they realised the hourly rate they could charge. Granted, it wouldn't be too much of a rip off as listening to that ghastly cunt for any length of time other than from the shrill, dread, viewing platform above the tiger enclosure would be enough to stress anyone out bar weapons grade valium.
That's what I meant, mr verge. Woody spans the creative desert from Mick Taylor to Glastonbury, and thus to the grave. Bastard's EVEN robbed Taylor of those royalties, too.
even
Mr SG: that Pimco thing takes the biscuit. Had to have a large glass of red to calm down when I first heard that news.
Mr DtP: in the late 80s I was doing some work in Rome, staying at the Lord Byron Hotel (of all places). In the next room was Jon Bon Jovi. I had a chat to him one evening; he came across as a polite, very likeable sort of person, not what you would expect. His father, on the other hand, who I believe was his manager at that point, was a load mouthed arsehole. The fun bit was going in/out of the hotel fighting through the mob of young girls - I even signed some autographs - my 15 mins of fame.
I can just about see how the Stones could make so much - they play private gigs to rich wankers and are always trailing around the world's stadia, as well as repackaging the Seventies in as many formats as possible, mr sg, but I am always amazed at Lady Sir Elton's bunce, he always seems to be at fashion shows and perfume launches, didn't know that he played live or released any new stuf, not that he ever did either. I never understood his popularity among the glittering ones, back then, dreadful songs, limply played, we had so many other, better singer-composers,
I suppose that now Snotty's gifted Westminster to the Spivs and Scotland to the Tribesmen, he needs a new challenge, maybe he'll take his familiiars with him - Wendy and Dougie Alexander, the Ballses, the Milibands and the Eagle sisters-in-carpet. They'd find room for fucking Hitler, they would, GlobaCorp.
Brown and Bernanke, eh, mr mike what a team. All they need is Bernie Madoff, Sir FredGoodwin and that guy, Diamond, and Larceny'll have a full house.
Not comparable that, I should think, to fifteen minutes here.
Never mind that, mr dick, just wait 'til Brenda croaks and we have Candle In The Wind Revisited all over again, maybe with Dr Brian Badger taking a solo. They all start to look and sound alike, after a while, our Alice in Wonderland celebrities. And their fucking spawn.
That pic of Lady-Sir Elton with the 2 kids gives me the shivers. Very wrong.
Me, too, mr mike, it's not just that it's fucking awful, it just speaks of wicked license to do awful and be applauded. He was on the Royal Variety show, last night, Reggie, with Hooligan Harry drawing the short Ruritanian straw, sat up there, on his own, probably off his face on coke, mind.
I don't know too much about the Borgias but Elton John seems to be from their mould or that of Bourbon Louis, the SunKing, decadent, pampered dandies, protective of a reputation they will never own, apart from amongst their paid courtiers. Elton John's music is shit, end of. And his personal life is a horror story running from him getting his arse gucked ragged by his dwarf manager, through his wicked, cruel marriage to Renata, his extravagant drug addictions, his heterophobia and to whatever it is which that photo represents.
What mr sg predicts, about a tragic bust-up, between the buyer and the bought will be high, tabloid drama, such is Reggie's relationship with the rest of the world, these poor kids merely flesh-out his meagre story, Pinnar meets Sunset Boulevard.
fucked ragged, getting his fat arse fucked ragged.
I reckon you had it right the first time - "guck by are" being what one imagines him saying with his mouth full.
v.//
I don’t think I’m the only one who thought that the Paris thing was a fucking fantasy. And it’s now just become a showbiz extravaganza for same old same old same old cunts.. Cui Bono and all that. If all those benefit gigs are making money…who gets the fucking money? We know who gets the publicity and they then go on to sell more shit to the shit eating public.
Every so called humanitarian tragedy is turned into a variety performance.
There’s an advert on at the moment for humanitarian aid to Syrian children displaced …some library pictures of kids wandering around. The thing is…last time the advert was on it was 5 million. Now it’s 7 million.
Don’t the people who make these adverts know simple arithmetic? Assuming these kids have parents….(Where are they?…or is it only distressed kids who have most marketing value) by my simple reckoning there are 10.5 million parent’s kicking about. That’s about 27.5 million displaced souls..living in a camp. Come on… FFS..
You wonder how folk like Bozo, Ronnie Woods and Sir Elton last so long and others don’t. It’s easy…they sold their souls to the devil. Now it’s payback .
U2..oirish lads who probably just wanted to play in a band…got the gig..Now look what they do. Turn up at every media hyped bullshit…what a miserable existence…how’s it feel now boys..to be the most detested in showbiz.
Has Geldof had a wash yet?
Thank you, mr doug, I am sure you speak for tens of millions, hundreds of millions who see that all the world is a stage, from which they are barred, doomed to be unwilling sudience. I believe that the Lord thy Bob, has taken unto himself a new wife-lady, may God have mercy on her doomed soul.
Too much, mr verge, too much.
I meant to add. Mr Woods is an irrelevance. Just there to make a 5 piece. He probably wouldn’t know that. It’s evident that the only real musician in that band was left behind…what 40 years ago? And in those years in between then and now, all that they’ve produced by way of anything memorable is printed in tabloid and not vinyl.
Bozo is a different matter. All he’s useful for is grandstanding for globacorp masquerading as charity.
Elton John…who him? Matters not a fuck. Just another example of ghastliness paraded in the meedja for our delectation.
In the end they’re all poseurs. Not musicians.
Yes, both Taylor and Jones, I feel; odd, how StonesCorp could handle decades of Keef being off his face but Jones had to go after a year or so, the only creative musician in the whole sorry gang, Bob Dylan's Dancing child in his Chinese suit. As mr verge hints, above, a miserable metaphor for our times, that Glastonbury horror show; there be daemons.
Has multimillionaire media entrepreneur Sir Robert Geldof rescinded his decision to throw open part of his property portfolio to Syrian refugees ? Sir Bob has not opened his gob; uncharacteristically. In the light of recent events he may be frightened he`ll get headchoppered in his own house. Or he`s donating to charities closer to his life; those involving drugged up, fucked up families, perhaps.
You sometimes use a quote Mr Ishmael, ' give all you have to the poor and follow me '. Like fuck these gobby cunts will. Like tank headed tax efficiency expert Bono. There`s a successor to Bono etc shaping up and I hope for the sake of your blood pressure Mr Ishmael they haven`t appeared above your horizon. Coldplay, they`re called. Its leader also is a tank head, dunno `bout the taxes but wouldn`t surprise me if he was a dodger too. Cunts.
Coldplay? Fuckin'...Zzzzz...
Middle of the road, middle class , middling talent self-indulgent areswipes.
I don't know anyone who doesn’t think otherwise. But still their records sell.
No, I know nothing of Coldplay, save that Mr Cold has separated from some bimbo to whom he was wed, just like common people do, only he did it ethically, y'know, to spare his image any pain, what was it they did, uncoupled, they said, like highly principled railway carriages.
Take what ye have and give it to the poor, is the scripture. Now, of course, in the world of Wogan, our betters have adapted that to their own advantage, they, themselves, do not give but devote themselves to exhorting the poor to take what they have and give it to the poorer. Maybe there's even some witch doctor, some gobby cunt like Geldof, in Africa, telling his starving, diseased tribe to Give us yer focking gruel, it's fer focking charity. It's an inversion of that flea thing: .....and smaller fleas have smaller fleas, and on, ad infinitum. I wrote a big, big post about Geldoffery but wound up choking with rage and abandoned it, maybe dig it out for Christmas, the time when the stars extend us their goodwill. Mouth open, for an hour last night, I watched a documentary about Ken Dodd. He's not Jimmy Savile, or any of that gang, but his act, on which he has grown rich, is the same, pushy, defiantly unfunny and actually quite pathetic freak show, ugly people bullying the rest of us. The only good thing about the Diddyman is that, as far as one could tell, he doesn't do that charity schtick.
George Carman QC, summing up the defense for Doddy v Inland Revenue:
"some accountants are comedians; comedians are never accountants".
Case dismissed.
Now, there was a character, Carman, the rich crooks' lawyer. I did have a book about or by him, but I just can't find it, the noo. He had a miserable death, as I recall or maybe he was loathed by his family, shouldn't be surprised. Dodd, even now, remains seemingly over-concerned about money.
The G&S, by the way, was delightful. I realised that I had only ever seen - and much enjoyed - it in am dram productions. the English National Opera version was somehthing else: huge, bright, lively, dazzling costumes, fabulous dancing, wonderful orchestra, chorus and soloists.; The ENO, too, are doing these broadband live-to-global-cinema performances, which, I can only guess, are qualitatively better than being in the theatre, you see, for instance, the orchestra pit and its doings, which you never see from the seats; the close-ups were a mixed bag, sometimes foreshortening some of the fantastic BusbyBerkely style coreography. But the tickets were less than a tenner.
Do see them if they come your way, they captured the inevitable jauntiness of G&S like nothing I have ever seen. Next one, in February, is the Magic Flute, which I last saw by a professional ensemble, in Bolsover Castle, one July evening, before before.
One of my favorites the Mikado.
In the 80s I saw Pirates of Penzance in the West End. George Cole was the Major General. He did the Major General's song flawlessly, to a 2 minute standing ovation. Then he taunted the audience: "what faster?" To orgasmic cries of "yes, yes" he then repeated in double time, again flawlessly. Fantastic. Underrated, George, in my book.
G&S is as much relevant today as it was then. The lyrics are a serious comment, but invariably the audience comes away smiling and happy.
Shows my Philistinism, mr mike, we have had two cats - ko-ko and yum-yum - for a decade and I never knew why, until the other night.
...as much relevant today....
As much or as little, mr mike, for that is Satire's tragedy, from Swift to Private Eye, it is all seen as a bit of a laugh.
The guy in the ERNO, singing the Lord High Executioner role, he's been doing it since the 'eighties, writing a new Little List every year. there's a ENO trailer for the Mikado, on youtube, and for all their other productions, too.
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