Saturday, 1 March 2014

All the power in the hands, of the people rich enough to buy it

While we walk the streets, too chicken to even try it..

Yes Tony Blair was brought up on the Clash, he misunderstood the message and where are we now?

40 years on from the 70's - London may not be burning but everybody's sitting round watching television, they have the new religion. Electronic media killed the spirit of Trainspotting, just as, video had killed the radio star, allegedly.

When Joe talked about the new religion he couldn't have envisaged people bumping into each other playing text dodgems, the new British bulldogs for the school playground, but as I type as a screen, there's no getting away from it, it is the new religion. Churches are full of people who are not computer literate. Its obvious they turn to God when their PC wont come on. Why? is it broken or because their partner had wisely flicked the switch at the wall and the irascible auld git heads up to church seeking sanctuary and some divine inspiration, and if he's no too busy, intervention.

We predicted this back in March 1983 and by 1984 all our apocalyptic vision were starting to come true. Labour had imploded, Mrs Galtieri had won another election and was selling her pals all the stuff she'd found in the basement of parliament. The sign read, Poundies of Parliament. The whole infrastructure of the country was sold at everything must go prices. BT went with a 50% discount and to prove they couldnt be blamed for another flood or rail disaster, water and rail followed swiftly off the shelves. Obviously rail came with the bail out for life card that is normally reserved only for children. Obviously devolving power stopped at getting rid of the energy companies, but yes, again 'bail out for life' card comes with every nuclear plant. This bail out for life card came in useful when the 5th emergency service, oor postie, was seemingly on sale for ever. As soon as the £10bn pension shortfall was removed it was sold, aye, you got it, half price, nae bother. What aboot oor Postie? Slowly being shafted into oblivion. The last remaining care workers in the profession are being told to stop talking to people on their rounds. They are supposed to be moving so fast if a pile of mail is building up at old Janie Jones' hoose, feck her, you're a postie no social services....thankfully we still have a lot of Posties who know that if it takes a bit  longer its worth it. In this disconnected world there is still one person who knows a few people  in our streets and stairs, and do you think our MPs or councillors seek them out to ask them questions......but why would they do that...they only walk the streets and know the constituency. In any other country every James Bond would start as a postie, every under cover cop would do the rounds and learn the trade of their community, but what do we do? We privatise it so that there are less Posties on the ground and more managers in the moneymaking offices discuss strategy.

Deadbeat was there. We walked every step. Career Opportunities the one that never knocks. I knew I didnt want to be a bus driver or ambulance man and I certainly didnt want to go fight in the army or the RAF, despite the growing number of opportunities.. being a Postie really had appeal

After the success of the Higsons issue with Switch adorning the cover for the girls, Annie Lennox was our cover girl for issue 11 keeping the boys happy.

We never got that interview with Debbie Harry or Siouxsie Sioux, maybe that'll come before our 40th anniversary.

So Funboy three are the next cover issue 12 but spring forward to March 1984, 85 & 86 and its a different mob

My memory fails me just now but undoubtedly Lloyd Cole was darkening our front page in 85 for issue 29. The joint best album of the year. 30 years on I think it works. I've heard Lloyd now on his own and he can be a bit of a car crash without the smooth polished rigours of the band to keep him on track. He does become the wandering minstrel quite successfully. I think that's what Bowie sussed early, probably a week after the ivor novello awards night. Doing a gig is fourteen little sketches. A three minute tour for the senses. If its kept tight and it rolls on you have a fantastic sketch show. If you have an advert breaks where you discuss where a song was written and it becomes 'an evening with....' well it all goes pear shaped for me. I wanna shout, I wanna sing, I'm hear for the music, as Clinton famously said during his re-election, "its the music stupid",  Me I'm heading back to the garage because....I'm in love Janie Jones.... and to listen to the Clash at La Sorbonne again...and does anyone remember the name of the famous Edinburgh band who wouldn't step aside for them that night.....answers on a postcard....all will be revealed at the Deadbeat reunion on the 22nd