April 1st, 2007

Lennon, Andrew Marr, The Saw Doctors, Travolta,

I note with the faintest of twitches of my eyebrow that a DVD is to be released of a documentary broadcast just last week entitled The USA Vs John Lennon. It shows the former “moptop” in his revolutionary period, which included going to bed, befriending the Black Panthers and writing songs about the IRA with the invaluable assistance of his wife Yoko Ono. It also shows how the FBI monitored his movements and attempted to quash his bid to become an American citizen, arguing that he was a dangerous revolutionary.

Christ’s smelly f***ing loincloth, if you ever needed proof that the Americans couldn’t find their own gigantic f***ing arses using both hands and a f***ing multibillion dollar laser guided arse-seeking device of their own making, this has to be f***ing it! Lennon’s f***ing revolutionary period? You’re talking a few f***ing months in about 1972, squeezed in between his screaming-for-his-f***ing-mummy phase and his brandy bender f***ing midlife crisis phase! He wore a f***ing beret for a while, end of f**ing story! He lost all f***ing interest the night Nixon “won” the election! Screaming Lord Sutch made more political f***ing impact than f***ing John Lennon! And thank f***ing Christ! Ever hear his searing f***ing analysis of the Irish situation? He goes on about f***ing leprauchauns! Leprauchauns! Or rather, his cretinous f***ing wife does! “Imagine no posessions!” Yeah, that’d have become a general reality about six months into any f***ing administration in which Lennon had been anywhere near the levers of f***ing power! No posessions, no food, no jobs, loads of f***ing money, mind you, ridden around in f***ing wheelbarrows, but that’s only because a f***ing wheelbarrow full of money would have been worth about five f***ing pence as inflation hit 2000%, thanks to Lennon’s radical “Power To The Leprauchauns” policy! “The USA Vs John Lennon”? “Stupid C***s Vs Even Stupider, C***ier C***, more f***ing like!

A review, commissioned by the BBC entitled Household Values has in its early stages already reached the conclusion that the BBC is “too upmarket”, over-investing in such heavyweight, analytical figures as John Humphrys and Andrew Marr, as well as period dramas, all of which alienate lower income families, while not paying enough attention to programming like EastEnders or Radio 1 figures such as Chris Moyles.

Rim my f***ing dead dog, Andrew Marr a f***ing “heavyweight”? He’s as heavyweight as a f***ing Versace daughter! If the f***ing unwashed consider an inoffensive, noncommital, celeb-interviewing, medium-sized portion of f***ing Chardonnay-scented piss like Andrew f***ing Marr too intellectually f***ing intimidating, then it’s about time the f***ing unwashed had a long, hard f***ing look at themselves and asked themselves quite frankly if they aren’t letting the f***ing species down, endangering our f***ing “erectus” status in the evolutionary scale! And if the prospect of watching some ex-f***ing soap opera starlet poncing around in a f***ing bonnet on a f***ing Sunday evening is equivalent to studying for a f***ing Ph.D in English f***ing literature, you should really ask yourself if it’s the f***ing BBC’s fault if your brain could comfortably fit in one of your f***ing nostrils! Jesus S. Wept, if there’s one segment of f***ing society that’s already being over-f***ing serviced, it’s the Heat-reading, Chris Moyles a-lot-of-sense-to-making, Twizzler scoffing, living-in-Dagenham-but-Man-Utd-supporting, knucklescraping, satured fat coating the f***ing protein of mankind demograph!Bovine f***ing twatjacks!

This week’s Observer Sports Monthly takes a look at US magazine Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit edition, which abandons all pretence of covering sport in favour of pages after pages of young women like Beyonce Knowles in bikinis. “Don’t mock!” runs the blurb. “With 70 million readers in the US alone, this is the most consistently read issue of any magazine in the world. Ever.”

“Don’t mock”?? “Don’t mock”?? No! Mock! Mock, I f***ing say! Mock the fact that there are 70 million slavering f***ing wankers in f***ing America alone! Above all, mock because the f***ing Observer believes we should all genuflect f***ing reverentially in the face of vast sales figures, as if they’re proof of some awesome f***ing universal truth rather than evidence of the pitiful, risible, chronically incurable c***dom of all f***ing mankind! F***ing mock!

It has been confirmed that The Saw Doctors have been confirmed for the Acoustic Festival on July 28 and 29 at Dorfold Hall Park near Nantwich, Cheshire. Other acts scheduled to appear at the festival include Jethro Tull, Chris Difford, The Bluetones, Midge Ure and Hazel O’Connor.

Gnaw my f***ing left foot, is that the most arseachingly repellent farrago of pop f***ing deadweight you ever f***ing witnessed? How wild and how numerous would the f***ing horses have to be to drag you to watch this pack of c***s? It’s not so much a f***ing day out as a Dantean f***ing descent to some fresh f***ing circle of damnation! F*** f***ing Guantanemo Bay, they should just airflift those f***ing manacled terrorist suspects into f***ing Nantwich! By Chris Difford, they’d be lining up to sign up to full f***ing confessions, by f***ing Midge Ure, they’d have given you the full address and postcode of bin Laden’s f***ing cave, together with written directions as to how to get there from the f***ing airport! Now can you please get us the f*** out of here back to our 2′ by 4′ cells before f***ing Hazel O’ Connor comes on?

John Travolta appeared last week on Jonathon Ross’s TV show, discussing his new movie, taking questions from an enthusiastic Mr Ross regarding his ownership of jumbo jets and discussing his adherence to the Scientology faith. C***ing hades, if they did a f***ing microscopic, forensic analysis of Jonathan Ross’s f***ing tongue, how many f***ing hundreds of trace elements of celebrity f***ing excrement would they find embedded on it? Calm down, you toadying f***ing arsedweller! Stop worshipping the bloke like a f***ing Sun God just because he flies around in a giant plane in some laughably conspicuous display of phalliccompensatory twatitude! Ask him what the f***ing f*** he’s doing signing up to a religion with all the f***ing ontological credibility of the f***ing daleks, if you want to make yourself f***ing useful!

Finally, it seems like The Jam’s upcoming tour is a sellout – although of the group’s founder members, only Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler will be playing.

My f***ing Godfathers, in the Pantheon of Patheticness this f***ing reunion has to take the premier f***ing plinth, does it not? A life whose immediate future involves a round f***ing trip to the Wolverhampton Lump Of Coal or the Droitwich Jug Of Sick or the Ipswich Cowshit Exchange or whatever f***ing venues these benighted pillars of petrified f***ing toss are playing is a life which might best contemplate the option of a trip to a f***ing Swiss clinic afterwards! Mind you, it could be f***ing worse – at least f***ing Paul Weller won’t be f***ing playing!

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