My listening habits when it comes to radio oscillate wildly (Smiths reference count:1, actually fuck this. C***ron did The Smiths reference thing the fucking cunt. He’s not going to put me off The Smiths with his cringing attempts at populism but I am going to put an end to what was definitely going to be a hilarious list of Smiths puns, yeah the tory twat ruined it: that joke isn’t funny anymore. Ha, I did one even after saying I wasn’t going to do another one. In your face you tory bastard, no-one stops me being unfunny). Phew, I did ok out of the contents of those brackets – I haven’t really got anything to write about on Saturday other than a couple of notes from what was said on Talksport, both of which were almost certainly not worth writing in my notebook. And certainly are not worth writing here. I am going to, though.
No, I’m not. It’s depressing looking at them. Well I am going to have to kind of now because how pathetic they are is the only point I have to make and to talk about how bad they are. But I’ve already written the bit about The Smiths that’s coming up now and I can’t be arsed..do you mind if I don’t? It was only being pedantic about something a commentator said and then getting annoyed because they read out a text message saying it was from a school bus full of lads on a trip desperate to know the rugby score. They had phones and a radio and thought that was the best way. Etc.
Yeah I gave up on The Smiths thing. Pretty Girls Make Graves just didn’t fit in anywhere. Hopefully tomorrow will see me back to the old house….
Oh fuck off that was a brilliant one to finish on. Come on I am very occasionally called House by about three people and so yearning for a return to form tomorrow works as part of the delicious wordplay – this is definitely a really shit entry. Fuck it, I’ll leave it on a really cheery note with one of my top 3 Smiths songs.
For clarity I don’t hold with all this ‘depressing bastards’ angle on The Smiths. I mean, of course, they have a lot of downbeat songs and this one is a particularly self-indulgent lullaby to self-loathing (self-pity?). And yes at the time I stopped protesting to my sister’s then boyfriend and gave them a chance I was a quite the self-pitying little wretch. But, I didn’t wrap myself up in the ‘misery’ of them, though, just thought ‘this flower-pocket bastard knew how to write lyrics and the music is class’. I was quite the exponent of the English language even back then. Anyway, it wasn’t the ‘woah is me’ lyrics that drew me in to this song, one of the first songs by them I would like, it was something special about the first third of the song essentially being a baying crowd. Fucking hell, am I still writing about this song?