February 20, 2006

# 48

To UTMG and the anonymous wraiths dancing on my ceiling:

The way I feel at the moment, if every band in the world decided on sending a representative to ask me to join their band for a one-off gig to show off my limited range of didgeridoo playing abilities in underwear guaranteed to get me arrested, while simultaneously raising awareness of the global theme of futility as the one and only worthwhile theme for 2006, I'd tell them all to find the longest vacuum cleaner hose on the market within a twenty-four-hour period, shove it where the sun refuses to greet their excrement and show me photos and/or video footage of the event so I had something to prove to my children that it truly happened as I remember.

All except for Muse, that is. To their representative, I'd say: 'You're on. Let's do this thing,' and then ask them post event to take as many photos of my arse within a twenty-four-hour period, or as their budget allowed, as a show of appreciation to those members of the human fraternity proudly still listening to classic rock.

From me to you, I say: you bunch of fucking twat-headed wankers.

By popular demand, and because it's as necessary as the next American Idol winner, this post does not feature Technorati tags.

DDC, your unrelated comment to this post is anticipated and will be answered by one of my many fluffers should they become available.

Bring on the dancing girls.


Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

Muse once hired a homeless guy who was notorious in their small coastal home town (somewhere in devon) purely out of pity.

They had to fire him when their sound system inexplicably failed, and the urchin in question was found asleep under a monitor, neglecting his most simple of tasks; Making sure the power was on.

I'm sure you're more employable than him, though.

Captain Berk said...


The dancing girls.

I can recite monologues to arouse them, should they need any more arousal than my torn-shirted presence. Which they won't.

Kaufman said...

UTMG: That guy sounds like a hard act to follow. Strangely, it hasn't triggered any memories. Coulda been me. Coulda been somebody else. Shoulda been me. I rarely get to sleep on duty.

CB: You're on. Let's do this thing. Bring on the monologues.

P.S. I'm surprised neither of you said anything about the fluffers. They're the most important people in the business. Any business.

Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

I hear that Berk has a klingon slave child employed solely to fluff his pillows up.

I presume this is the profession you refer to.

I, on the other hand, have no such employees at my disposal.

Kaufman said...

UTMG: I have a sneaking suspicion that the profession you allude to in CB's life is not the same profession mentioned here.

The fluffers I'm talking about have considerable money invested in knee pads and lip balm.

Possibly even Poison albums.

'Til I'm screaming for more, more, more...'