Then the Beatle’s ‘She’s Leaving Home’ came on the radio. No forget it! It was a moment of Christmas aberration. X Factor is shit and Simon Cowell is an evil character from some Dr Who episode that never got made. Compare the Beatle’s beautiful poignant storytelling with our current Christmas number 1’s, “When we collide we come together. If we don’t we’ll always be apart.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Might I suggest an alternative’
“There are five toes upon my fo-ot. On my foot there are five to-o-oes.” Are my emotions really supposed to be stirred by the dictionary definition of a collision? No. And not because I’m a heartless old geezer, but because it’s meaningless, bloody dribble, that’s why! It’s like the biting satirical comment on English Couch potato life in The Royal Family has been taken to our hearts and we all go ahh as Matt Curdle attempts to inject falsetto emotion into it. OK it’s Cardle and that’s cheap, he’s a lovely guy, but forget it Matt. Look at JLS. Nice enough lads but they can’t even fart without some unseen management’s permission. No, stick to pubs where people spill real beer and girls don’t scream at a glimpse of your left shoulder. Otherwise you’ll have to dance to Darth and The Evil Empire and, like the Queen, never be able to use the toilet again. ‘Come on Barb, get that washing o-on, or you won’t have time to make mi te-e-ea.’ Yeh, that fits too. Ahh.
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