Me and Red Sal.

Back in the 60’s when me and Red Sally were teenagers we were at it. No I mean fermenting ideas about changing the world to the sound of The Who and the Beatles. This was ‘My Generation’ and we were up for it. Mods and Rockers and rollers, Beba, Carnaby Street, Apple and the Maharishi. That’s what teenagers are for, arguing the toss about stupid society, religion and politics with dim-witted decrepits. And now as we reach frosty top status ourselves it’s like we’re having to come out of teenage retirement because the current crop are as passive as a wet fart. Give them a TV and alcohol and they’re as disputative as a stick. The pinnacle of their discourse on moral ambiguity is hair straighteners. Questions like ‘Is there a God?’ would only become relevant if he was featured in a new primetime sit-com series. Catholicism would only achieve cachet if it ran adds where a guy knocks on an attractive woman’s door and asks, “Hi I’ve just moved in, do you have a cup of the blood of Christ I could borrow?” Without adds for walking, sports, hobbies, debating and playing music, which there won’t be because there’s no profit in them, they just won’t feature on a teenagers agenda. Wake fucking up! They will always only prompt you into paying for things. You’re not here just to supply Carlsburg and Clairol with money! You’re not just the cash cow for unis, landlords, Microsoft and skunk growers. This is ‘Your Generation’, your life and your society. Start thinking or they’ll happily enslave you. Maybe Gordon Brown did save the world from financial ruin, or maybe he just capitulated to commercial forces, choosing to save the banks and saddle you with debit rather than take the more difficult, messy option of fighting for fairness for ordinary men and women. It’s your fight now; Red Sal and me have our bus passes and want to grow old gracefully. Yeh right, like that’s going to happen.