Wednesday 19 December 2007

KIRSTY McCOLL CAN’T SAY FAGGOT ON THE RADIO… BUT EVERYONE ELSE CAN

FACT OF THE WEEK: Nobody loves Raymond

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “You can’t go wrong if you smell like a celebrity.” – local waste of skin interviewed whilst actually buying Paris Hilton’s perfume


MAIN EVENT:

A Christmas tale from No One Really Likes Jazz….

Fairytale of New York is without question the best Christmas song ever recorded. Admittedly it’s not a field overly crowded with classics, but it’s still a good song purely for focussing on the true spirit of Christmas: Alcahol abuse, relationship break-ups, arrests and bells. It also features Kirsty McColl, who was - before she got run-over by a boat - the closest thing Britain’s ever had to a good country singer. Suffice to say, Choon!

Anyway, earlier this week Radio 1 decided that when playing Fairytale of New York and thereby slightly stemming the flow of Wizard induced Christmas suicides, they would beep out the word Faggot from the song’s second verse. Fair enough I suppose. I doubt Shane McGowan really meant any affront and it’s certainly no more offensive to gays than say The Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘Angry Mob’ is to anyone who happens not to be middle-class, but it could feasibly offend a portion of Radio 1’s 18 billion or so listeners, so no problem.

Conversation over. Or so you’d think. In actual fact this vaguely understandable decision gave the ‘political correctness gone mad’ brigade - who of course can always be relied upon for a sensible, measured response - a reason to go crazy.

One enormous twat interviewed in a shopping centre stated, "The time will come when everything is banned and we'll have to watch whatever we say." Yes, very witty, if the microphone hadn’t been snatched away he’d probably have added something about a ‘nanny state’ to delight us further but alas, he wandered off to buy Jeremy Clarkson’s latest masterwork and stock up on opinions for the new-year. Mr Twat was not alone however and soon the message boards were crammed with demented listeners abusing their work internet connection to demand action.

Instead of issuing a statement simply reading 'Shh!', the BBC - who seem to continually forget that they are a uniquely powerful organisation, to all intents and purposes above conversing with the mortals that tune in - folded, completely reversing their decision. Not only that, they went on about the whole thing endlessly, ensuring the offending word was uttered by pretty much every employee with a microphone, spectacularly undermining their original point - the six o-clock news alone contained more faggot references than a kindling convention.

So the big bad company listened to the common man, all the Hobbits rejoiced and all was well in the Shire. The end.

Except that there are still two wars going on, you can buy a gun for 30 quid on any city street and David Cameron is going to be Prime Minister, but never mind all that.

Merry Christmas you cheap lousy Faggots!

Friday 14 December 2007

THE NO ONE REALLY LIKES JAZZ TWAT AWARDS 2007

GO SEE THIS: If David Cameron did this I’d vote conservative Till the cows come home. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDUQW8LUMs8


That’s right its time for the inaugural No One Really Likes Jazz, Twat Awards coming at you from my dining room and hosted by yours truly Matt Thomas – for red carpet enthusiasts I’m wearing a towel dressing gown with food-stain piping by Marks and Spencers.

It really has been a great year for twats. From Lohan to Cruise, from The Borrell’s to the Geldof’s our celebrity superiors have not disappointed, delighting us with their self righteous diatribes and cocksure paddies, the best of which are honoured below.

BEST NEWCOMER

The younger Geldofs are coming on nicely in Peaches’ wake and Lilly Allen’s brother, Alfie -an actor you know- is sure to be a solid performer in 2008 but this year it had to be Emily from Big Brother. She’d probably have made it for her “There’s this new music called indie” comment alone, but after failing to recognise that there’s literally no situation in which a skinny blonde from the home counties can say the immortal n-word (though if you’re a Jewish comedian it’s all good) she was a shoe-in. Mad props to Big Brother for kicking her out in he socks, though unfortunately she seems to have returned to her natural habitat – a Hertfordshire cafe most likely – instead of delighting us further. She’s a twat of the highest order, even though we all still would.

BIGGEST INTERNATIONAL (US) TWAT

I don’t really know where to start, there’s a case to be made for every single LA resident but I think I’m going to go with the first lady herself. That’s right, Paris -too fabulous for prison- Hilton. In a way you have to admire the gigantic balls of a woman who can get out of prison by pleading that she’s about to have a nervous breakdown and throw a garden party in the same day or attempt to appear in court via phone because she didn’t feel like driving across town. But in another way you really don’t. Apparently she bought the entire prison McDonalds to avoid becoming someone’s bitch, I wonder if it worked. If it didn’t there’s probably a tape knocking about somewhere.

BIGGEST POLITICAL TWAT

This one’s split between cuddly fascist Boris Johnson and the British public for buying his whole amiable fop shtick. The Brits have a longstanding thing for bumbling toffs and that’s all well and good when they’re in a hilarious wedding film, but should we really give them nuclear launch codes, or worse still control of the tube.

THE BORRELL AWARD FOR MUSICAL TWATTERY

He’s had it sewn up for a few years now and this year was no exception. Pete Docherty. For one count of releasing a terrible album, several counts of being allowed to sleep with Kate Moss but being too fucked to remember and most of all one count of releasing a coffee table book of your demented, miss-spelled, Adrian Mole on crack scribings and then going on the Jonathan Ross show talking about how sad he is that everyone knows his secrets.

THE FRANK LAMPARD CUP: FOR OUTSTANDING TWATTISHNESS IN SPORTS

The FA. Guys, he may be a brilliant manager but Fabio Capello speaks NO English at all. You’ve just employed a guy that wouldn’t be able to get a job in Starbucks.



Have I left someone out? Is one of these guys a misunderstood genius? Let me know and I’ll enter you into a prize draw to receive a poke in the eye.

Peace out Playas.