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Andy's amphetamine gorgons: they didn't need records: they 'scratched' themselves. Mulitple Personality Disorder. Magnificently de trop and subterranean: the 'mole people'.

Whereas all the DJs and Big Brother people and walking Glastonburied are depressingly NOTHING NOWHERE NORMAL NATURAL shiny happy empty. I find it truly mind boggling, if you want to think about it for a second, that in however many weeks days hours it has been, not ONE of the Big Brother people has said a SINGLE interesting or controversial or off-menu thing. Not one. Not ONE.

VOTE me out!

Think about that.
We are a country that just went to war this year ...
They weren't warned off certain subjects a priori contractually were they, do you think? Anything DAVINA or GRAHAM or DERMOT wouldn't be able to handle or make a slick one liner or readymade headline out of?

And how does this work?
If there was another 9/11 say - would the plug be instantly pulled, just like that? I mean - it came awfully close to being the case that Big Brother overlapped with the War. And from a certain P.O.V. you might say that they raced into it with rather indecent haste. One more example of the utter fatuity of that 9/11 chestnut that FROM NOW ON EVERYTHING WILL BE DIFFERENT. Gravitas, now. All that old tut. LAST FEW DAYS of blatant trivia . . .yeah, right. What would they fill all that blank space and dead air with?

{They're pushed as it is. It's really eye-opening to go on holiday or otherwise go without yr daily Guardian and Observer and so on; and then you open one up after your time off - oh, here's an article on how all the b list celebs are drinking, uh, bottled water and,uh, what your choice of bottled water "says about you"; the Guardian's annual obligatory 'Let's send an egghead or politco to the Fashion Shows' article; . My god and all those lame columnists! Has ANYONE ever read Alexander Chancellor or Barbara Ellen? Or - to put it another way: has anyone EVER read them a SECOND time?}

I guess only women in cages can play down
The things they lose . . .

So, yes, the housemates in their gilded sensory deprivation cage, deprived of the oxy-gen of pointless information.
Is there a sliding scale?
A Bin Laden impersonator upstaging the Royal Family - obviously, no.
What if he'd ben a real fake, and one or several of them had bin terminally FATWAH'd away?
A state of multiple DIANA in other words?

They way things are going - they could have leapt in to do a MOBILE PHONE link-up viewer poll so that we could vote one of the remaining household to be KING OR QUEEN of Blairland, nice sleepy FAIRland where you have more power over whether a scouser or a slapper or a perma sleeper gets to be in Hello! than whether we go to war or join Europe.

New Labour - sponsored by Big Brother!


Is there a sliding scale?
Don't interrupt the Brothers + Sisters, unless . . .

A bad case of DIANA - well, obviously, yes. But something like Mags or the Queen Mother - no real need to disturb them, really. All a bit 'so what?' But what if Davina miscarried? ("Who's coming out this week!!? - Uh? Oh - no ...") What if Prime Minister Alastair Campbell disappeared up his own arse - PUH-schlooop! - and the government fell?
Is there a secret Big Brother Grey Book do you think, to cover such sticky eventualities?
Have they checked and double checked (for instance) that no one 'in the house' has relatives in the Forces; or no friends/relatives who work in high buildings round the globe?

{Jeez, this year's Big Brother must be mind addlingly boring. I'm starting to pursue JON-like areas of speculation: I'm enJONed, I'm JONsing ...}

Will you still have a song to sing
When the Razor Boy comes
and takes your fancy things away?
Will you still be singin' it
on that cold and windy day?

Was 'E' then the quintessential {post-} Andy drug?
Wow. Gosh. Neat.
Isn't this fab-u-lous?
Oh wow. I think I might paint the Smiley man's portrait.(I wonder who gets the royalties on that. Mmm. Wow.)
Not threateningly psychedelic, more like a censored DVD of the psychedelic experience. LSD cut with social politesse. Wow. Gosh. Flashing lights: what a swell idea. And that repetitive beat: that's such a good idea. So economical. And I like the idea of the DJ being a star. They're so nothing. They do so little but they can charge what they want. That's so cool. They probably get WAY more money than the people who sang and stuff, on the records. That's very me, don't you think?

E. . .xcept for all that sweaty touchy feely stuff. Hugs aren't a good idea, I don't think. You should hug at home if that's what you want to do. Hugging in public seems awfully hippyish, or group therapy, or junior school to me. Hugs aren't anything, are they? Not love, and not sex. And I would feel funny about not knowing if they were hugging ME, or hugging the drug me: I'd worry about that all night I think.

{Cameron being told he was off to South Africa. Wha-ow! Gush! OH! You mean - in an EERO plane? In the big blue SKI? Wow. Sooth Africay - where all the Lion Kings they do live? Oh Mummy!}

I guess ultimately what depresses me most about myself is that I am insufficiently Andy like. I am not Warholian enough, for my liking, not modern man machine or post blase enough to NOT CARE. To uncritically embrace it all wow gosh cool.

I still get agitated, perplexed - I wouldn't actually say 'depressed', that's not true - but something like Glastonbury irks and niggles me, still, in a way I wish it didn't. I really do wish it didn't. And I still, desite everything, tend to think along value system lines. That 'x' IS better than 'y' ...

But, you know, once a sha'mon motherfucka quasi-Leninist speed freak punk ayatollah intolerance-is-a-virtue social critic ...
{maybe ... if I'd just had TWO Catholic parents instead of one Catholic and one Protestant ...

Could you P-L-E-A-S-E knock me off my feet, for a while?
P-L-E-A-S-E knock me off my feet for a while . . .
'Cos there's a GALAXY OF EMPTINESS tonight
A whole GALAXY OF EMPTINESS tonight ...
Still, I've been FIGHTING ALL WEEK tho' I don't know what for . . .

posted by Ian 7/10/2003 11:52:00 AM

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