As loathe as I am to continue this interuption

As loathe as I am to continue this interuption (though I cannot say I am altogether proud of my antics in The Pub Of Sexism), the reason only men scab fags is that the ladies they are with ask them to do it. Ask in that “Twelve Tasks Of Hercules Before You Are Allowed In My Knickers” way. I am not a smoker, yet I am quite often sent to collect smoking sticks from other pub punters. I’ll always go for a bloke out of earshot, explain the situation and will come off usually successful.

This is why you should never scab (or tap) fags off of ladies. Any excuse will not be good enough, they’ve worked for these fags god-damn it, and you as a hunter gatherer should have killed enough in the field to sate you. This approach certainly will not work:
“Bung us a fag, I’ll have a guaranteed shag” Even if it does rhyme.

Now, back to the fate of Magnus….

Tom, surely the Sugababes are post nu-bubblegum

Tom, surely the Sugababes are post nu-bubblegum. Nu-bubblegum was killed by Atomic Kitten (or at least mercifully put to sleep). I rate Overload higher than 30, but mainly because I could not believe such a classy sounding track was by a band with such a rubbish name. And props to the ‘Babes for releasing the only proper Christmas single this year. Even if it is called New Year (a marketing mistep there and no mistake).

TANYA’S ADVENT CALENDER OF FILTH

TANYA’S ADVENT CALENDER OF FILTH

Welcome dear reader to the undisputed section of my Pandora’s Box of vileness. No-one, not even a fool who wished it could be Christmas everyday, can honestly say that Christmas records are any good. This may explain why people don’t really make them anymore (excepting the Sugababes excrable New Year which is about Christmas but appears to be date stamped a week later. Its a best before date I can only surmise). So in my not strictly accurate advent calender of filth I shall be cataloging some of the horrors which have been performed in the name of Baby Jesus.

1: BAND AID: Do They Know Its Christmas

That’s Band Aid as in a BAND put together exclusively to perform a record with the express purpose of raising AID money for African famine relief. As opposed to the American word for plaster. The plaster reference must be to the state that everyone was in when they agreed to be in this toss - absolutely plastered. Not withstanding that the single is supposed to feature the great and the good of British pop circa 1984 (Marilyn?) - out of such noted songwriters the best they could do is Midge Ure and Bob Geldof.

Remember. Geldof does not like Mondays. Ure wrote Vienna - the only paedophillic paean for a boys choir which has ever lurched past the censors.

Anyway, this pissed bunch of popsters want to raise money to save the starving in Africa. Perhaps save their careers as well, but it was at least a well meaning event. They could all have dipped into their pop star pockets and given away much of their personal wealth (10p from Marilyn). Instead they decided to sing a song written by the musical equivalent of Abbott and Costello, and then belch it loudly over Top Shop stereos for the rest of eternity. It would be laughable if it was not so atrocious.

The song is littered with lyrical mishaps, but they tried to craft a loving song which compares and contrasts our relative wealth with the poverty and famine in Africa. They did this by getting Paul Young to screech:

“Well tonight thank God its them, instead of you”

Perhaps on the page it worked. Perhaps on the page it really did conjure up proper reflection on the fickle finger of fate which dealt Bono such a lucky hand (hold on, its in comparison) and Femi Kute such poor fans. On record it sound like the fattest western, gloating laugh going “ho ho bloody ho - you did something wrong in a past life”. Given the age of many of the starving kids I can only assume they bought Nillson records in their previous incarnation.

Oh, and Midge - there will be snow in Africa this Christmastime. If only he had consulted with Toto, who could have told him about the glacial peaks of Kilamanjaro. Mind you, they were too busy touching the non-existant rains…

Band Aid is shit, they could have done with one over their collective mouths. Do They Know Its Christmas Time? Well if you got this for Christmas you would be forgiven for not knowing either.

Loathe as I am to interrupt this pub crawl

Loathe as I am to interrupt this pub crawl there is a point to be made regarding the fascinating topics of alcohol and language. True bilingualism comes into its own in social environments and particularly at the bar. Well, in The Crown last night it did, having overheard Mr Foreign Johnny request ‘ a pint of Guinness and a half pint of Stella Artois’.

When did you last hear a native speaker ask for a Stella Artois? Or a Kronenbourg 1664? Or a half? What other ridiculous foreign requests have you overheard at the bar readers?

On a similar theme, Senor Spanish Bloke made a ludicrous attempt to tap a fag whereas Mr Native made a perfectly reasonable request for a light. This is not necessarily a foreigner thing as plenty of British blokes (it’s never girls for some reason) have tried to tap fags. The best one of recent times was a bloke who dashed into the pub as if it were the emergency room, breathlessly demanded a fag (god, I hope he wasn’t in the late stages of emphysema………) and dashed out again. His success was down to his urgency. And the fact that he was alone.

Just thought potential fag tappers might be interested.

TRACKS OF THE YEAR: 2000

TRACKS OF THE YEAR: 2000

Starting today: thirty tracks, best of the year, counted down in order. I’m going to get Blogvoices put on so people can discuss the choices, I think. Other contributors - feel free to intersperse with additions and brickbats, and your usual nonsense of course. But without further ado:

30. SUGABABES - “Overload”
“Train From Kansas City” redubbed as a Bliss agony page letter: the girls sing the words like they’re sleepwalkers, more burnt-out than overloaded. Everything’s going to end badly, as usual. Sugababes in their best songs have a great shrug-yeah-so-what thing happening but with hooks and production and voices even too. Though I’m less sure of the voices: they do that thing of singing “mehhh” instead of “me” and there’s a melisma problem, too. Shrug, yeah, so what, “Overload” is a fine, cold single, swapping popstandard girlband fireworks pizzazz for stripped-down style, which I approve of though it means the album turns anonymous and classy too often. That low shuffly rumble “Overload” rides on is, after all, the closest the Nu Bubblegum has so far got to menacing me.

Response to ‘Am I Cool Or Not?’ has been very poor this week

Response to Am I Cool Or Not? has been very poor this week. Do the readers of FT know nothing about women’s music tastes? I may have to start offering prizes.

Chris Cunningham

Chris Cunningham, Aphex video guy, interviewed and his work profiled. Nice. (via The Morning News)

“Blogger ate my post”

“Blogger ate my post” may be a “dog ate my homework” for the 21st century, but you know, sometimes the dog did actually eat the homework (um…). Anyway, I was going to link to DAA’s piece on Rolling Stone’s pop list long before now but the most vanished into the ether and I’m too worn out now to remember what I said. Probably that Rolling Stone has as much business making a pop list anyway as I do making a Greatest Drum Fills Of All Time list. And that the Backstreet Boys should have been higher, not lower. (The usual, in other words).