Despite their historic animosity, it is quite easy to get to Greece from Turkey. So after filling up on Turkish Delight (not to be confused with Afternoon Delight, which is anything but an afternoon delight, more a somnalistic paean to the worst sex ever) I finally got on a ferry to Greece. Of course as a child I would often find myself at other children’s parties taking sides with Turkey. Not being able to spell beyond the letter G and T, I was unaware that the Greece I despised was actually spelt Grease – and came with an OST behind it.

And yet the memories of our youth linger on. And getting off of that ferry, all I could think of was Olivia Newton-John in those ridiculous painted on leather trousers, John Travolta using all the oil produced in Alaska in one year on his head – and that terrible, terrible film…


As noted above, the Grease in this films title refers not to anything automotive but the amount of it in John Travolta’s hair. Grease is a celebration of the birth of a rock’n’roll generation – which to me is a bit like holding an Hooray For The Nazi’s day. American Bandstand, greaser boys, pink ladies, and just terrible music: there is nothing right in this film.

Not that the music is right either. A Gibb brother sponsored literal white wash of the history of pop music, it seems to revel in its own insipidness. The production of all the songs is the aural equivalent of shooting through gauze, and the songs themselves are neutered to the extend that Hopelessly Devoted To You sounds like something Newton John is singing to her cat. Or something her cat is singing. And yet as a child you could not go to a party when the brainwashing sounds of the Grease Original (HAH!) Soundtrack was not pumping out, and five year old boys were not telling five year old girls that they were the ones that they wanted. This was not amusing, it was tantamount to overt sexualisation and child abuse. And yet it was seen to be okay because it was a happy musical. A musical about cars, about teenaged sex and about – lets be frank – thirty year olds* grooming teenagers for sex. (Okay, maybe the teenagers they were grooming were also played by thirty year olds – but it does not change the principle of the matter).

I have a special layer of hell where Greased Lightning is played over and over again. A pointless song about how fast a car is, and when you see that car it is clear that it would only be good for running Travolta over. But if this car is so fast, so good, then why is the first thing they point out about it is that it is an automatic. Is Travolta so rubbish at driving he can’t shift gears? It gets even worse. Further on the car is described as hydromatic. THAT MEANS IT RUNS ON WATER! Its not a proper car at all, instead some sort of tonka toy which runs on water pressure. Its clear the T in T-Birds stands for Toytown if not Twats.

Grease ruined the lives of a generation. Now it is time for that generation to stand up and return the favour. If you ever see anyone who owns a copy of this film, destroy it. It is for their own good. Destroy Grease 2 while you are at it. I believe Michele Pfeiffer will pay you to do it.

*Not including Stockard Channing who was well into her fifties when she played Rizzo.