Trying to save every last penny available for next weekend's Electric Picnic means that alot of time has been spent lolling about the house in front of the oversized flatscreen (that actually came with the house?!) like a stroppy teenager, drinking coffee, watching shit television and getting understandably agitated at many many programmes.
I'm sure nobody reads this blog for Big Brother news but it is absolutely necessary to alert you to the fact that life-size, inflatable sleazemonkey, GI Joe Mario came back for an excruciating cameo on Sunday to propose to dead-eyed shark woman Lisa in a stunt that was so irredeemably naff it made watching the closing ceremony of the Olympics - and subsequent handover to London - seem like a wonderfully inclusive spectacle that we should all embrace while wearing United Colours of Benetton cardigans and tickling little playful monkeys on the belly. I'm lying, of course, about the Olympic thing being in any way watchable.
Mario and Lisa make me feel sick. I would rather watch my grandparents copulate loudly in front of me than ever see the two of them on a television screen again. They repel me to my very soul and I think I could probably watch 27 episodes of Grey's Anatomy back-to-back rather than have to see a single photo from their horrendous future nuptials. Jesus Christ.
And as for the Olympic handover. What the fuck? A London red bus bungled into view with a bunch of ethnically balanced dancing Troglodytes whirling about with umbrellas until the top of said vehicle eventually peeled down to reveal the legendary Jimmy Page - now looking like a dulling, badger-like Chinese pensioner - and Leona 'reality TV singing sensation?' Lewis singing one of the greatest Zep songs of all time. Jesus wept. Then David shitting Beckham smiled vacuously at the little Blue Peter competition girl and booted a football into the braying masses, a football which I think one of the Chinese athletes caught and looked like he had just soiled himself with glee.
Who was this aimed at? Is there really a lobotomised collective that watched it and thought 'yes, I am so glad to be a part of this wonderful circle of life, this championing of inclusiveness'? Maybe I'm just a bitter old bollocks and this
really was wonderful but I doubt it.
In other news, I have had interviews recently with both Calexico and Fucked Up that have made me feel glad to be alive and have helped build a little foundation of hope for the future. Joey Burns was a lovely man, full of knowledge and wit and Fucked Up's lead singer, Pink Eyes, proved to be an outgoing, chatty, shockingly honest interviewee. And the punk gig that happened after the interview was the most fun I've had in Whelans in a while.
Thank god for the music.
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7 comments:
The London handover bit involving people at the bus stop throwing their papers on the ground as the bus came perfectly summed up much of my time here in London: queuing for public transport and casual littering, oh and shoving the wheelchair guy out of the way to get on the bus, which is too full anyway.
As for the Bacon, there are big retrospectives of his and Rothko's work opening this autumn to help restore some faith, and fear, in humanity...
tryptictastic.
It was genuinely traumatising. It gave me the vapours.
Lisa is sitting on my face right now. It's actually rather pleasant down here.
G'head, you so nas-tee mmm hmmm
Maybe the Olympic handover ceremony wasn't too memorable but Boris Johnson's (he's practically royalty you know) performance at the London post show party was truly impressive. Whiff-Whaff to you sir
Loving the Bacon though.
Yeah, the Bacon helps alot. I'd say meeting him might have been as traumatising as all these things combined.
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