Captain Purplehead

I wasn’t going to do a Christmas post this year but, everyone seems to be so full of fucking cheer, despite having being shafted from every possible angle and in every orifice by greedy right-wing pricks, I feel I need to point out a few fucking home truths to people. No, I’m not going to go on about the worsening European crisis or fascism or anything political because you’ve heard enough of that and there are people out there doing it much better than I could. No, I’m going to talk about the Christmas formula, particularly – (ah fuck it, exclusively) – the entertainment side of it. Because of this, I’m not going to do just one post, I shall do two.
Right, let’s briefly speak about the music side of it. I don’t mind the old crooner songs because they are not invasive and annoying, they are what all Christmas songs should be; something to be played lightly in the background to build atmosphere. The crooners knew that. The orchestras that backed them knew that and that’s correct and proper because that’s just how it should be. I don’t mind a Christmas atmosphere. No, I’ve come to hate Christmas because people tend to just shove shit in your face and expect you to swallow it. There is never an acceptable occasion to do that to anyone. My personal peeves are that fucking horrible Driving home for Christmas song. Fuck me, how pathetic is that piece of fucking horrible rancid shit? Chris Rea was obsessed with traffic jams at the time. He wrote a song called The Road To Hell. It was a song about a metaphorical traffic jam. He likens the world’s slide towards doom to a traffic jam. He uses this imagery because it occurred to him when he was stuck in a traffic jam once. His bad mood about being stuck in traffic gave voice to some dark thoughts he had about the plight of the world. “It boils with every poison you can think of”, chirps little Chris. He’s right, I fucking hate traffic jams. When it comes to Christmas, however, he writes a happy little ditty about Christmas. What is the subject matter? Being stuck in a traffic jam as you’re driving home for Christmas. All of a sudden, that murky, dark, hopelessness evoked in an earlier recording is transformed into “Top to toe in tail lights”. Suddenly, he’s so delighted to be in this traffic jam that he’s singing to himself. Not only that, he looks at the driver next to him and he’s fucking singing too. Too much fucking Prozac on the motorway is never a good fucking idea! MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND, CHRIS!
Slade seem to have started this fucking all encompassing need for bands to bring out fucking Christmas songs. This is mainly because more singles are bought around Christmas so it is the hardest No. 1 to get. Call me cynical but I guarantee there is NO other reason for Christmas singles. They don’t fucking care if you’re out in a fucking pub, covered in glitter, singing it between shots of over-priced luminous fucking syrup. They want the cash! Simple as that.
Look at Mariah Carey, for instance. I’ll be the first to admit that she can be quite pleasing on the eye. Not so much the ear though. Look, being able to reach high C may be a talent or it may simply be an ability akin to being double jointed. I haven’t given it much thought and it doesn’t matter either way. The point is this. The fact that you are able to reach high C, does not mean, under any circumstances, that you fucking should. Mariah Carey is a disgusting little fucking money grubbing trollop that is less fucking appetising than a marmite and toejam sandwich with extra fucking earwax. She bleeds cheese. She almost makes Jordan look fucking classy. And, yes, she spouts some fucking horrible Christmas shite. “All I want for Christmas is you”. I’m willing to bet that they had to put a fucking small mountain of cash and a diamond encrusted rampant rabbit to inspire her to sing that. Fuck off, Mariah, you fucking toerag!
We cannot discuss Christmas songs without mentioning that fucking nut tumour, Cliff Richard. What a fucking spoofer that man is. If you play the Lord’s Prayer backwards, it says, “fuck off and die, Cliff, you old fucking cunt”. I haven’t tried it, but I’m reliably informed. Enough about that fucker.
Then we have the Bandaid song. There won’t be snow in Africa? Really? I’m not even going to go into how badly conceived that song was. Yes, their heart was in the right place but it’s a terrible fucking song.
Fairytale of New York is a very well crafted song. It is an excellent song but it’s overplayed. How Ronan Keating ever thought it was a good idea to cover it is, frankly, beyond me. The idea of the younger Cliff Richard singing “T’was Christmas Eve, my love, in the drunk tank”, is hilarious.
People like Dana and Cliff order us to remember the true meaning of Christmas. They want us to remember that it is a time when our saviour was born. He was unique because he was born without original sin. Original fucking sin! For fuck’s sake! They want you to believe that you never had a hope. They want you to believe that you can’t possibly amount to anything good without the guidance of their makey uppy religion. Your children are born without a malicious thought or intention. They are born innocent and beautiful and precious but these fucking zealots want you to believe that they are born sinners. How utterly disgusting! How fucking dare they. Of course, this is just to coral you into a ball of fear and confusion, which can only be fixed by the guidance of the church. If you’re lucky enough not to be dicked in the ear by one of them, you may grow up to understand that the whole thing is a load of bollox.
Part 2 of this rant will be up shortly. Stay tuned, or don’t, it’s up to you.