It lives.

As opposed to Michael Jackson whose unexpected croak-age has completely upset the celebrity dead pool. It also knocked Farrah Fawcett off the front pages – a major disappointment for those of a certain age who had THAT PHOTO on their wall, and in their minds during periods of lonely sexual activity.

Or so I’ve been told. Anyway, not old did Jacko supplant other dead celebs, he also managed to subvert the entire news agenda for more than twenty four hours. Watching the Sky rolling news, I saw the same grainy picture of an ambulance informed by voxpop scrolling messages “I still have the paper cups from the 1984 Bad Tour, and they are my greatest treature. Michael, you were my life and you’ll live forever”.

No he won’t. Let’s face facts here:

He was a kiddie fiddler. He was such a proper nutter I’d grudgingly award him Hedgehog Loony Status. His best work was some twenty years behind him. He’s dead and/or working in a chip shop with Elvis. Okay I accept he made the odd decent record*.

But now he’s dead from an overdose of painkillers or chimp jism or who gives a fuck. He’ll live long in the memories of those people who have no life of their own to cherish, and the rest of us will remember the “Thriller” Vid being pretty cool and not much else.

So get over it 🙂

Anyway I’ve had a day of fixing things. Bicycles, children’s toys, gliders, lawns, etc. My first foray into soldering for twenty years proves – once again – how completely clueless I am with any tool other than a big hammer. Still the glider flew, didn’t catch fire even once and even came to land somewhere close to the house.

A bit too close really, Carol was starting to panic a bit as I began to hum the Dam Busters theme tune, when the big yellow winged incendiary was locked onto the perfect flight path to smash through a window. I was never really worried, but then I did have a beer in one hand.

Flying the Electric Glider. And it not catching fire. Again. Flying the Electric Glider. And it not catching fire. Again.

Important to relax I’ve found during times of stress I’ve found. And on that note, I have many half written, half baked, quarter arsed things to say about lists, London and loving the summer. I shall committ them to the unwary readership as soon as the next batch of beer is appropriately cool.

Until then, have you noticed the nights drawing in? 🙁

* Don’t push me on this. I’m struggling to think of one, but 65 million people can’t be wrong, can they?

3 thoughts on “It lives.”

  1. I got a cash-in-hand casual job one summer working for a catering company. I got paid£25 to serve burgers @ a Michael Jackson concert @ Aintree racecourse. It was proper mental when they opened the gates, thousand of fat kids running faster than they ever did at school sports day in an effort to be right at the front. Probably the best concert I ever saw though, and that’s even before you consider the fact that Kim Wilde was the supporting act

  2. I too was aghast that Farrah Fawcett’s demise wasn’t headline news as her poster was as big an icon as the woman scratching her arse whilst playing tennis.

    I think the difference between Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett is that one fiddled with majors and one fiddled with minors.

  3. Oh very good Julian 🙂

    Kim Wilde? Oh yes. Right. I’ll be back in a bit, that was the other poster on my wall.

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