PD. Ooh look at me, I'm doherty, I support QPR, write poems and stuff, because I'm cultured and sensitive but oh so tortured...and I wear a hat that makes me look a right gezza/wally...you know, like the artful dodger or summing. The world stinks, and I'm a rock n roll son of a bitch with ma Bob Marley posters and me New York Dolls vinyls. Oh yeah, and I do a bit a charlie as well. As Kate. Yeah?
Of course Pete Doherty probably wouldn't say this. Why does anyone give a toss anyway? Is it because he smacks himself up? So what, he's hardly a role model. I know I couldn't care less what he does with his life or how crap his songs are. It's a right he has, and when people say he's squandering his talent, well on the evidence of what we've already had, what talent? As far as I'm aware there's only ever the latest celeb teen mag, NME who's proclaimed his god-like genius, and written fake fan letters (I have it on good authority) Strange, and ironic, considering, there's no god. Don't know about any of you but I don't actually know anyone and have never met anyone who has more than a passing curiosity for Pete Doherty, let alone own any albums or have been to gigs. Perhaps it's a London thing. Curious? Buy a Clash album, see how it could have been done in 1976. Thirty years later, this retrowank is wearing thin.
Let's not beat around the bush with fake concern, designed in a celebrity death watch suit. No-one gives a shit. There is no shining star to be damaged. But I'd defend his right to push sub-Clash shite into the music industry, just don't expect me to like it. I've known journos to say 'Pay me...and I'll give him a wrap of brown that finally send him to the great Albion in the sky.' If he wants to become the new poster boy, a'la Zammo in Grange Hill, then who am I to Just Say No? If it wasn't for the shit gigs and cult like obessive nature of a hundred and odd insecure fans wanting to say they'd witnessed the next Cobain or Morrison, he'd just be another member of The Libertines, which no matter how you try and rationalise it, are yet another shit MOR band wih guitars, styled hair and not a lot to say.
If you unfortunate enough to be a commuter then your day probably won't be helped by the Turner Prize's attempt to gain more attention by imposing itself upon the public in the form of some kind of mobile art gallery at some of the UK's train stations. So you'll have a chance for yourself to witness the house of indifferent, anodyne shite, which attemtps to pass itself off as art. Janet Street Porter reckons that it'll be a great opportunity for the public to see the talent of great British art, blah, blah. Like we have to go to London to see art. Like we don't have art galleries everywhere else in the UK, which I have to say puts a lot of the stuff on display in London to shame. So folks, soon you'll be able to voice your opinion and maybe suitably interact with the art. Me, I'll be staying in and listening to the Kate Bush's album.MICK HUCKNALL: Undisputeably a Cunt?We're well aware by now that Mick's hair colour often brings about that snide and silly animalistic vitriol in people, even to the point where poor Mick feels it tantamounts to racism...but that is only half the point. He's still a cunt, isn't he? Don't believe me? Then check out the recent Q magazine interview in which he drop kicks a Cuban fan offstage and then storms out. Does he later apologise? Of course not. He's Mick Hucknall. He's rich and sold millions of records, he's better than that. But this poor Cuban fan who only wanted to join his hero onstage may face three years in jail according to reports after it emerged that Police found cannabis on the young fool. Will Mick step in to save him, and use all this so called influence? Nah, 'He's a silly boy. A very silly boy,' was all Mick had to say on the matter before getting onto his jet. Source. Q magazine (December 2005)
I had the misfortune to catch Duff Hilary on the Late Show with Letterman. Yeah, we know she can warble, we are probably aware that she does the blonde bimbo stereotype not many favours (or every favour if you happen to be blonde and stupid). But, christ oh christ wept buckets, why did this airhead really feel that anyone would find her pathetic Paris Hilton act complete with pooch fashion accessory anything less than stomach-churningly dull or duff? The Jessica Simpson-esque witch proceeded to introduce this pooch on her poor audience and get the poor mut to do some party tricks (which as it happened where no more than when dogs shake a paw or get into their poised to pounce stance.) Someone please call the RSPCA. Someone needs putting down fast.
I know it's a bore and very simple to write so much hate filled piss cakes, but people make it easy. Take Stella McCartney. Nothing against her personally. I mean, sure she's the daughter of Paul, she's hardly going to struggle. I understand she designs clothes. And from what I've seen I can't say that there's anything particularly that distinguishes her from most other British fashion designers. I suppose they're like artists, prone to bouts of the emperors new clothes syndrome. But none of this is important. It's the arseholes, the shallow sad lives that are willing to queue outside for four hours outside H&M just so they can bag a bargain and tell their mates, 'Ooh look, I've got a Stella McCartney...aren't I great?' Well, excuse me if I don't entertain this collective middle england gasp. Maybe it wasn't surprising that the majority were women but what was more surprising, considering that it was H&M, was that there wasn't a stampede of gay men, demanding McQueen!
This problem does go wider and it is particularly annoying. (I swear blind it does exist). It's the habit some fuckers have, to refer to items of clothes as fashion designers. Hence,
Prick. Ooh look it's a McCartney. Think it'll go with my Miyakke? Oh I don't know. Maybe it'll go with that McQueen belt or those Starke shades.
Me. I'm sorry for you. I used to be like that. Die soon.
Go ahead, if you want to be back-stabbingly despised or kind of treated as a secret joke. These people are living, and exisitng like they are in Absolutely Fabulous or Glamourama, and they need to be beheaded. There is an aristocracy out there but it's not the upper class, it's the new art media elite (again I have some experience in this area until I got myself better. But this tale does create other problems as I'll explore next week.) and they have to be stopped, as their stupidity and twattery inspires cold blooded murder. These will be the same cunts who will queue for years outside of King Harrods. They're just clothes. That's all.
