Archive for 1990

Saturday, August 18th, 1990

Deacon Blue, Boots, That Petrol Emotion, Gary Bushell

I observe with some interest that Deacon Blue are to release an EP of cover versions of songs by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

They’re so f***ing tasteful, aren’t they, Deacon Blue. Don’t you just want to piss all over them just to wake them up a bit? How do you think these c***s spend their weekends? Drinking, whoring and jacking up, which is what we pay rock stars to f***ing do on our behalf? No, they f***ing well do not! They spend them browsing through Habitat catalogues, selecting curtains and listening to f***ing Dionne Warwicke albums! C***s! Tossers! Scum of the earth!

It seems that Boots have made a move which viagra for sale other major retailers may well follow – they have decided to stop stocking singles.

And about f***ing time too! now the next step is for the c***s to stop stocking albums and CDs as well, and devote more floor space to a decent selection of f***ing haemorrhoid treatments! You’re a chemist’s, for f***’s sake! Sell us something that cures us, not something that makes us sick, ie pisspoor pop records by cackbrained c***s!

That Petrol Emotion are back, with a new single entitled “Hey Venus” which features various mixes, including a “Mad Thatcher” mix and “Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy Mix”.

Hang on, I don’t get it. Shouldn’t that be ‘mad cow’, not ‘mad Thatcher’… ah, I see! Because Mrs Thatcher is a cow! Gosh, I am rendered incontinent with mirth! I haven’t heard that one roughly 174,638 times in the past month alone! You dead f***ing parrots! Next time you think of a joke, which will almost certainly turn out not to be your own but a joke so f***ing old and lame even f***ing Jasper Carrott would think twice about telling it, shove it three feet up your collective sphincter, you c***s. You ARE a f***ing joke!

This week, in the regular C*** Of The Week column, we received cheap viagra a letter from Piers Morgan, then of the Sun, and the ‘Bizarre Boys’ who worked on the paper’s pop column, requesting that Mr Agreeable have a crack at Garry Bushell, then also of The Sun. Mr Agreeable replied as follows…

You backstabbing shits! What the f*** do you think you’re playing at? I don’t suppose it occurred to you tossers that this Bushell character might have f***ing feelings? All right, it so happens we know he’s a flabby faced c***, an almost illegally ugly twotmonger whose personal appearance would lower the tone of a cesspit and who would burn down an orphanage if it stood between him and his f***ing career advancement but that’s not the f***ing point! The point is, “Bizarre Boys”, that the only f***ing “bizarre” thing about your feeble pop page is how the three or four least talented journalists in England could be allowed daily to foist upon us a whole f***ing page of ineptly rewritten press releases and sadly transparent lies about our “top pop stars” that constitutes the worst f***ing section in the worst paper in the country – and given that that includes Franklin the f***wit’s “cartoons”, that’s saying something, you loathsome c***s!