All that is good may be rapidly going to the dogs but inspiration comes
from the strangest of places and while the rest of the world tries to steal the
bread from my grasp, others offer me a choice of different fillings to wet my
sandwich appetite.
I recently read an interview
with one of the Gallagher brothers. I’m not 100% on which of the two it was but
I think the words came from Noel (but only because I don’t recall my upper lip
snarling, my teeth glaring and spittle flying across the room as it tends to
when t’uvva Gallagher is in the news – gifted, maybe; arrogant, perhaps; a role
model for someone you love, never).
Good old Noel was discussing
the fourth Oasis album (released all those years ago), he said he regrets ever
releasing it, he didn’t want to write it and only did so because of contractual
obligations. Now forgive the rant but WHAT?!?! I remember waiting ages for that
ruddy album, I remember turning up to the local Our Price at 8:30 in the
morning to get my copy as soon as humanly possible. I took that much prized C.D
and went and sat on the seafront at the Barbican in Plymouth, listening to it
on my Sanyo Disk-Player alone because I wanted to ‘hear the music’ (over and
over). The pure joy of owning the latest Oasis album was insurmountable, I’d
handed over my hard earned cash and glowed with excitement, I was the biggest
Oasis fan in the world and by the time I got to my pub job around eleven-ish, I
was already learning the lyrics (and all this from a southerner).
These days I am no longer a
fan of the Northern Brothers’ Grim. Their music was too repetitive for me.
Snarly Liam became too arrogant, the whole show was too boring. The fights. The
‘have they split up, haven’t they?’ became ‘who gives a toss if they split up’.
I got bored and moved onto The White Stripes. Still, I must admit hearing that
the northern monkeys had cashed in and let their artistic integrity be
scuppered really pee’d me orf!
And
then I read today that Labour have plans to stop the ‘quick buck’ nation that
we, as British citizens, have become. Reading, whilst standing on the shoulder
of giants, this informative piece (thanks BBC) I couldn’t help but notice that
Ed (leader of the reds, Milliband) wouldn’t give any direction as to how Labour
would get into government to bring about these changes. He couldn’t tell us
what Labour stood for, just what the Camerons’ were doing wrong in government.
Ed’ hasn’t handed out policy, he won’t commit to anything, in fact if you made
him wear blue satin boxers, with a mustard yellow pin stripe instead of the red
cotton ones he dons every morning, you wouldn’t be able to tell him apart from
any of the other ‘coalitioning’ muppets that hang around Downing Street these
days. Nobody wants to commit, nobody wants to act, nobody has the doo-dahs to
stand up and be counted. The world is a fickle place and we are all paying for
that.
Then
I read an article on the X Factor.
Now
before I go on, there may be a spoiler here, for anyone who doesn’t read the
gossips. Please, if you love the tv show and don’t want the ruined to be shit…
Sorry, I mean the shit to be ruined, then please stop reading – although who
really gives a toss if Sian Phillips failed to get a visa for Kelly’s Judges
House in Miami.
The
rules are there, if you are a convicted criminal then certain things are not an
option to you. You’ll never get a job driving the Queen if you’ve been done for
drink driving offences.
And
this is what I mean. People need to take responsibility of their own actions.
Stop fannying about and blaming everyone else. Sian, you couldn’t get a visa
because you is proper gangster, deal with it. All those nights, blagging to
your mates that you’ve got a criminal record, showing off your new ankle bracelet,
well who is laughing now? (Whoever replaced Sian in Miami, I suppose). Tough
shite if something you did in your past stops you in succeeding in the future,
we all know how it works – take hold of your own life, stand up to be counted
and never let your integrity be scuppered (artistic or otherwise). Its like a
nice bit of picallilli on your cheese sandwich. Know how much you like and
apply – one mans ‘too much’ is anothers ‘not enough – please open another jar’.
No comments:
Post a Comment