Tag: Quick Press

AC/DC Live Wire

Prince’s 1999 song was rarely played on December 31st 1998 yet a year later was used extensively on various radio stations/disco 2000s to welcome in the millennium. We partied 364 days and whatever minute it was too late. One of these anomalies we have in life. I didn’t party. I was Doctor Whoming behind the sofa, with my whimpering K9, awaiting Armageddon. Something wicked this way comes.

The millennium bug was the end of days. Looking back now I don’t know why I was so worried. I did not possess a computer at the time (Y2K). The worst that could have happened to me would be that the toaster wouldn’t work. And this would have nothing to do with broadband issues or other related online jargon. The trouble would be dodgy wiring in the plug; when you’ve chubby fingers it’s hard to put that little wire in the right place; Major Tom to earth etc. Still, like the glorious Gaynor, I survived.

At the end of the page

What I don’t understand is why anyone would want to own or read The Mystery of Edwin Drood or The Love of the Last Tycoon. These unfinished masters are best left alone just as it’s wasteful listening to a rough uncut demo from a rock band; this is not the polished diamond of official recordings. Schubert’s unfinished symphony is another case in point. Only two movements long (personally I think one movement is enough but that’s another story) it doesn’t last the formal distance. These incomplete bodies of work leave too many questions dangling as to their ending. It can be Continue reading “At the end of the page”

It’s official, the age of chivalry is dead

There was no way that I was going to lay my denim jacket over the puddle in the camber for the fair damsel aloft on the kerb to step on and cross the road, no matter how pretty she was. I didn’t want history to repeat itself. My head is quite happy on top of my neck. I’m also quite fond of the jacket.

And as I observed a few couples idling walking along the pavement I knew that chivalrous behaviour was for the knights. It was something my old grandmother used to say to me.

The three partnerships I saw, of varying age groups, were holding hands as they strolled. Romantic as this was, it was their positions that was all wrong. The females were situated nearest the kerb and closet to the traffic. My granny always said that the gentleman should always be placed on the outside, otherwise the man was putting the woman up for sale.

The Modern Prometheus

You may have read of the former pub landlord from West Yorkshire that became the first person in the UK to have a hand transplant. Hoping not to lose my right appendage soon or at any time in the future if I do have a mishap I have asked for some special requests because, come on, if you don’t ask you don’t get. Therefore I would like Shane Warne’s wrist, Marvin Hagler’s knuckles and Warren Beatty’s fingertips. Thank you very much.

Going the whole whack and entering into Wildenstein territory if I needed a head transplant I’d opt for Martin Scorsese’s eyebrows…