Well, my hangover hasn’t yet thrust its barbed lance into my brain so I still have the strength to write. I did something this morning that I rarely do; I switched on the radio. Now, normally, I’d prefer to staple my nuts to a horses arse and yell, “giddyup”, than listen to the turgid, spineless, soulless, plastic shite that they play on most radio stations in this country but a momentary lapse led me to press a button that should forever remain unpressed. After hearing a cliché-laden piece of shite, I decided that something needs to be done.
I am going to write a classic and you can help. Now this song will not be a good song. It will be a song that will be poison to the ears of music lovers. Lyrically, it will be the worst kind of drivel known to man but it will follow a formula that will lead it to No.1. This is no mean feat, given the amount of cliché-laden drivel that’s already out there. To help, you will need to borrow a couple of CDs from a friend who’s done for musical taste what Donald Rumsfeld did for public speaking. Will there be a message? You fucking bet there will. I’m going to write a love song off the top of my head now and see if you can decipher the message it contains. This won’t be the finished article but it will give you some ideas.
Fill me with your love,
Until our hearts beat in perfect time.
Caress my soul and tell me you’ll be mine
Katy be mine till the end of time.
O let me in, baby
Fill me in honey
Find the part of me that I have lost
You stole my heart, baby
O can’t you see, honey
Until I have you I will count the cost.
Cuts like a knife.
Under a perfect starry sky,
Never doubt that I’m your loving guy.
Tell me or my broken heart will die.
I should remind you that this isn’t the song I’m going to write nor the actual message I’m going to convey but it’ll give you the idea. It’s not that hard if you stick to the tried, tested and nonsensical cliches. If we create the perfect song, I will record it and post an appropriately cheesy video. All profanity must be hidden. Get as much help with this as you need. Remember, I only need to sell a couple of hundred copies of the song to get to No.1 in Ireland and all proceeds will be donated to a charity of your choosing. I need the cheesiest cliches. I’ll also need to borrow a white suit from someone. The pirate gear just hasn’t had the same appeal as it did in the eighties. Ado, I know you’ve heard more of these shite songs than any mortal man deserves to so now is your time for revenge. Pablo; you’re drafted in, whether you like it or not. I’ll also need tons of extras for the video. It’s obviously going to have to be shot, at least partly, on a beach so I’ll need someone who knows how to edit a crappy music video. Bock; you’re also drafted. If its cheesy enough, you know that Westlife are going to want to cover it.