May 6th, 2007

Bringing a cheery titter to those cheeky chops, it’s… Mr Agreeable!

Waking up to a silver salver of assorted high fibre cereals, grapefruit, melon, figs, green tea, lightly buttered bagels and a hosepipe connecting me to a septic tank full of Kestrel lager, I breakfast heartily then turn my attention to a certain periodical. Therein, I notice that the combo Gym Class Heroes have recently scored a hit, “Cupid’s Chokehold”, based around the Supertramp song. “Breakfast In America”. Said one of Gym Class Heroes’s number, “I remember the first time I realized I wanted to write songs. I was watching a Fruity Pebbles commercial and Barney Rubble started rapping and I figured if he could do it, I could do it too.”

Yeah? Well, it’s a f***ing pity you weren’t f***ing inspired by Wile E. Coyote, isn’t it? “I thought, like, wow, hey, man, if he can jump off the edge of a mile high precipice and come back two seconds later unscathed, like, I figured, like, maybe I could too.” A giant sized f***ing pity! When you say it’s ‘based’ on the Supertramp song, you’re basically f***ing saying it is the f***ing Supertramp song, aren’t you? Because face it, take away the f***ing Supertramp song from the f***ing equation, and it’s a bit like taking the horses away from the f***ing equation in the f***ing Grand National  – all you’re left with is a bunch of twats dressed like silly, jabbering little c***s running around like blue-arsed arses at the f***ing starting line with no business being at the f***ing races! Which is what you f***ers are!

Singer-songwriter and veteran anti-war campaigner Joan Baez has been barred, it seems, from performing to soldiers recovering in hospital from their tours in Iraq. Army officials intervened to prevent her participation.

Well, for f***’s sake, the American f***ing military might well be the most cementheaded, incompetent bunch of f***ing lunkheads currently running f***ing riot in uniform on the planet and about as f***ing subtle and sensitive in their operations as a f***ing 100 metre high concrete penis dropped from a f***ing B-52 onto a f***ing Red Crescent orphanage, but credit them with a modicum of f***ing compassion! If I’d had half my f***ing arse torn off by some insurgent’s f***ing incendiary device and was condemned to shit sideways for the rest of my f***ing life, the last thing I’d f***ing want is my that warbly, reedy f***ing bint Baez strumming at my f***ing bedside, sandpapering my f***ing eardrums! It was as much as f***ing Bob Dylan could do not to shove a wet dischcloth down her throat in the 60s! He only went f***ing electric to f***ing drown her out! “Turrrnn! Turrrrnnnn!! TURRRNNN!!” TURN IT OFF, YOU F***ING CRUEL AND UNUSUAL C***!!

The Sony Award Winners for 200, the biggest awards in radio, have been announced. They include the following; The Broadcaster’s Broadcaster Award to John Peel; The Lifetime Achievement Award for Tony Butler, BBC West Midlands; while Music Radio Personality Award goes to Chris Evans of BBC Radio 2.

John The Baptist’s f***ing jockstrap, what the f*** are these all about? I mean, bless his soul and great respect to f***ing Patron Saint of Elderly Obsessive Hamsters John Peel but unless I missed a f***ing seance, he hasn’t exactly been doing a lot of f***ing broadcasting these last twelve months, has he? And Tony Butler? You spend your f***ing lifetime trying, and f***ing failing to gravitate from the f***ing broadcasting backwater of BBC West Midlands and you get an Achievement Award? You achieved f***ing nothing, you c***! That’s why you’re still in the f***ing West Midlands! And finally, Chris Evans, personality of the year? What does that f***ing say about the rest of the f***ing DJs at BBC2, that they have inferior f***ing personalities to Chris Evans? What are they? Paeodophiles? Spaniel torturers? Granny f***ers? What?

The Arctic Monkeys latest album, Favourite Worst Album has been hailed as the most anticipated new release since The Stones Roses’s Second Coming, according to the NME.

Yes! F*** me, yes! And Could They Possibly Be The Greatest Indie Group In The World Since The Arcade Fire, The Greatest Band In The World Right Now? Meanwhile, Are Muse The Greatest, Most Godlike Band In Britain? Are Kaiser Chiefs The Greatest Band In England Right Now? Are The View The New Beatles? Or Even Better, The New Oasis? Is Every Generic Brown Square Lump Of F***ing Refried, Reprocessed Indie That Appears On The Cover of The F***ing NME The Greatest Thing Since Last Week Ever? C***s! Get this drilled through your f***ing fevered skulls! 2007 is the f***ing worst, the palpable worst year in f***ing music history since “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window” topped the f***ing Hit Parade! Truly, this is the era of c***s to end all c***s!

Finally, it seems that Tony Blair has just passed a milestone –  ten years as Prime Minister.

You deranged, gleaming-eyed, rictus grinning, pusillanimous, reptilian, toothsome, scumsucking, trust-abusing, Cliff Richard rimming, childkilling, poverty gap widening, cesspit dwelling, NHS up-f***ing, useless f***ing trail of terminal f***ing right wing slime! Bush’s f***ing cockboy! You should be made to pass a f***ing milestone, having first been f***ing forcefed it, one with the names of every poor f***er you sent to their deaths in f***ing Iraq inscribed on it, you loathsome c***!

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