Archive for the Music Category

Blog Review: Richard Barnbrook

Posted in fuckwits, Fury Home, Media, Music, Politics, The Written Word with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2008 by bootlegmarkchapman
Richard Barnbrook spots a black person in the middle distance

Richard Barnbrook spots a black person in the middle distance

Regular readers will know of my unrestrained adoration of Richard Barnbrook, London Assembly member and aspiring film director. It was to my delight, then, that I stumbled across the swivel-eyed racist’s blog on the My Telegraph site. As you will know, because they never tire of telling us, the BNP gets censored at every turn and its members are hauled over the coals for the merest little slip (like suggesting that rape isn’t all that bad). So it’s refreshing to be able to read ole Rich’s words as he intended them to be seen, and for doubt to be removed once and for all – he really is a colossal arsewit.

Recently, Richard has found himself forced to throw light on the tragic situation of John from London – for those of you who don’t wish to be overcome with all-too-understandable emotion at the poor guy’s plight, he is so sickened by the present state of the nation (with all the nasty immigrants) that he is planning to leave the country – or “emigrate” as I believe the vernacular goes. Confusing solution to such a problem, no doubt, but that’s how life is when you’re a “working white class” person in Britain.

Of course, being a dynamic kind of guy, the kind of guy who gets engaged to a woman mere weeks after the start of a relationship because he’s impulsive like that AND DEFINITELY HETEROSEXUAL, Rich doesn’t rely on correspondence from working white class guys to raise awareness of problems. In this post he fearlessly swedges in against the university course on which some British Muslims are learning to fly planes. But just be warned, Muslims – Richard B is on to you! He’s not about to be gagged on this issue, or any other because he is RICHARD BARNBROOK.

It’s not just Muslims and multi-cultural Britain that he’s got in his sights, though. He also makes clear that he’s not about to accept any flannel off renowned Marxist thought-criminal Lily Allen. Having earlier likened her hairstyle to that of Boris Johnson – and isn’t it good to see that the BNP are weighing in on such weighty issues? – Rich approvingly notes that she’s now dyed it “girlie pink” and has been posing on a Union Jack duvet cover. All is in order, yes? Apparently not:

Imagine my surprise though when I found out today that she has written a nasty song about me, called Guess Who Batman? and put it up on youtube. It just shows that one needs to be careful when making comments about silly spoilt pop star girls. She must be mad, and having a little pop star diva strop. Still I reckon she is just frustrasted at being surrounded by non blokes or boys who are girls…whatever they call themselves these days.

I think you might mean “homosexuals”, RB. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? Probably you’re just frustrated at being surrounded in the GLA by people who don’t agree with you, or sentient beings … whatever they call themselves these days.

But don’t assume from what I’ve said that Richard just churns out the words. He reads what other people have to say for themselves, and even responds with constructive criticism, as seen here on another blogger’s post – a review of To Kill a Mockingbird. See? Richard can speak on the big political issues, he can direct gay porn AND he can berate 18-year-old girls.  You may not agree with him on the issues, but Richard Barnbrook undeniably has style.

Ashley Cole in “total prick” shocker.

Posted in Music, Sport, The Written Word with tags , , , on February 13, 2008 by bootlegmarkchapman

The latest word is that Cheryl Cole has moved out of her marital home after the latest rumours about her “philandering” (good word that) husband Ashley Cole’s alleged extra-marital exploits (no, not THOSE ones). Now, call me Mr. Cynical, but I can’t say I’m greatly surprised that this relationship has jumped the shark. Indeed, the only shock is that it has been quite so long in coming. Ever since they walked down the aisle theirs has been the very model of a marriage of convenience. However (and you’ll need to stay with me on this one), I think it would be a real shame if the couple do eventually divorce.

“Christ alive Paul, why on earth do you think that?” Well, abstract entity constructed for rhetorical purposes, I’ll tell you why I think that. It’s a little rule I call the “Spice Girls Solo Career Principle”. A good number of my less musically liberal friends were delighted when the aforementioned pop quintet-then-quartet decided to jump ship back at the earlier end of the decade. A dangerous band of musical torturers had seemingly breathed its last (and if you listen back to the hits they had as a band, they were utterly fucking dire in almost every case, with the possible exception of “Say You’ll Be There”). They were gone. Thank fuck for that, eh? Well, no. Why not? Because they all plumped for solo careers. Now, a solo artist bangs out the same number of singles at the same rate as a band. So, instead of waiting three months for an unlistenable musical abortion, we were faced with the unedifying prospect of five times as many shitefests stacking up. Given that the Sugababes were even then showing how girl groups could still turn out good singles, it was an unwelcome festival of dross.

This “Gremlins”-style multiplication of suffering has not been limited to the Spice Girls, of course. In recent times, the same punishment has been visited upon our ears by the erstwhile members of Blue. With Simon Webbe in the “Emma Bunton” role turning out some quite listenable stuff, the other three rained liquid pop misery into our unwilling faces with greater regularity than they did when they were safely contained in a damage-limiting foursome (Wow. Ashley Cole and “damage-limiting foursome” in the same article. That’s one that won’t be troubling Google.). With Ali Campbell leaving UB40, and both parties threatening to continue recording, it’s not good news for the deafness-impaired among us.

“What in the name of all that is good and holy does this have to do with Cheryl and Ashley, you deranged fuck?” Well, I’m just getting to that. Here we go! Firstly, Cheryl Cole is a quite appalling human being with only her involvement in some of the most enjoyable moments of pop genius of the past 20 years to mitigate against just putting her against a wall and shooting her. Even leaving aside the oft-mentioned spot of racially-motivated violence that could have derailed her career before it began, she has a rather nasty habit of being a poster-girl for body fascism. Charlotte Church and Lily Allen have been targets for her acid tongue in the past, while anyone who has happened to walk within radar range of the bigoted cock-wit has at one time or another been the victim of a needlessly shrill “cussing”. While I have a platform to stick up for some people I don’t know, I’d just like to point out that Cheryl is so far subordinate to Nadine Coyle in terms of both talent and looks that she needs a telescope to see her. Not only metaphorically, neither.

As for Ashley, his own past utterings regarding his move to his spiritual footballing home show a lack of self-awareness that would be funny, if it weren’t … no, wait, it’s hilarious. He’s a cast-iron, copper-bottomed, cork-filled, ocean-going cretin. He and Cheryl really deserve one another, and it would be a shame for the world in general if their poison were to dissipate and infect two other people who, at the present time, may actually be salvageable human beings. For the sake of karmic balance, let’s all say a prayer that Ashley learns to walk the line, and that Cheryl gives him one last chance.

You know, I like to think I’m a lot like Jesus. I think this post proves it.

Tired “rehab” puns may force Amy back to crack.

Posted in Music, People, The Written Word with tags , , , on February 13, 2008 by bootlegmarkchapman

Look at this. And this. How about this? This? And another….

Just a few headlines for stories about Amy Winehouse’s latest effort to get clean from the hard drugs that have turned her from voluptuous jazz-tinged sex bomb to emaciated bra-clad scarecrow. Now, before I deal at greater length with the content of stories that we know only too well, I first wish to have a word about the headlines. Perhaps she was asking for it by writing the line that spawned a million plays on words (or, more accurately, about three different plays on words repeated again and again and again, until I found myself quite keen to smoke a whole bunch of crack just to escape the pain). But shitting hell, surely it’s time for an Amy Winehouse Rehab Pun Headline Amnesty. Given the fact that her latest album has a title containing two words that rhyme with slang terms for drugs to which she has proved partial, why not push the envelope?

“Amy goes Back to Crack”, “Crack to Smack for Troubled Amy”, ” ‘You Know She’s No Good’ : Blake Warned By Worried Parents”, “FUCK ME! Amy Pumps Dose of Killer Drug”, “Pete Advises Sad Chum Amy ‘You Should Be Stronger Than Me’ ” “Back to Brown”. Perhaps they could even advise her to talk to Frank. Anything, just for a bit of variety. It’s not as if anyone’s having to work very hard to find new photos, or “concerned friends” willing to speak to the press. The stories pretty much write themselves, with the aid of a thesaurus which handily falls open at the pages for “sad”, “thin” and “singer”. Affect a tone of pained, paternal concern, break out the Big Book of Drug Cliches, insert a picture of Blake Fielder-Civil looking like a prick in a hat and Bob’s your shady drug buddy.

The tone of concern is another predictable and generally fraudulent element to these stories. Barely able to go more than a few sentences without a doe-eyed exhortation for Amy to stop throwing her talent away, The Sun is the chief offender in this respect. While their biggest worry plays in the background (“For how long exactly can we have stories about poor, troubled junkie Amy before she either dies, or worse, gets clean once and for all?”), Wapping’s finest take an editorial line based on the not entirely convincing premise that they really just want her to get better. They could at least show some gratitude to Winehouse for giving them a bit of a change-up from stories about “Junkie Waster Pete”. They even get to change the personal pronoun in their copy-and-paste op-ed pieces. On a side issue, why is it “Junkie Waster Pete”, but “Troubled Chanteuse Amy”? How long has she got left on the goodwill list before the stories start containing thinly veiled wishes for her death?

“Come on, you old cynic”, I hear you cry (“you” being in this case an imaginary crowd that I have made up for the purpose of advancing my article), “These journos are just ordinary people, they may have friends who have been through the trials and tribulations of addiction! It’s not fair to launch a scathing attack leavened with very nearly amusing asides! Play fair!”.

And perhaps, in different circumstances, I would concede that Imaginary You had a point. But when the latest “Shock Video” of Amy on the internet comes complete with a big ol’ banner “The Sun” logo in the bottom corner, swallowing any protestation of good-heartedness becomes harder than listening to an entire Maroon 5 album without slaughtering the next four people you clap eyes on. Virtually impossible, in other words.

Perhaps, though, the final words should be left to “a friend of the waif-like chart-topper”, quoted in the good ol’ Currant Bun: “Her family and her few real friends have begged her to pull herself from the brink many times. But here is proof she has pressed the self-destruct button … Her fans would scarcely recognise the drug-addled wreck in the video as the talented performer they love”. The friend remains anonymous, which is rather a shame – not many people have learned to speak English by reading cliche-ridden newspaper articles, and it would be nice to put a name and a face to that phenomenon. Either that or the quote is entirely invented, but surely that’s not possible?