I love fancy dress. What I don't love is the fact that of late I am busier than a one-armed fan dancer, and might not have the time to organise some suitable glad rags for a function this Saturday night. The function is a charity trivia event, with a Spicks and Specks theme. I have been put in a team, and there will be prizes for best dress. I have been approached to judge this, so naturally I will have to disqualify myself, but I would still like to organise a costume. The table I have been placed on want to do 'Woodstock' as a theme. Okay. The head of the table has promised to help me a bit with some clothing, and assures me I will make a very convincing Janis Joplin. I usually get told I look like Kate Bush, but I admire Janis, too. I would rather go in 'glam' theme, but if I'm in a team, then majority rules. So Woodstock it is. I consider myself lucky because my table had wanted to have a Eurovision theme. Oh dear Lord, who wants to dress up as Bucks Fizz? I remember seeing that woeful winner on 'COuntdown', which for those of you who don't, or choose not to remember, is 'Making Your Mind Up'. 'First you gotta speed it up/Then you gotta slow it down...' Huh? Won't you just end up back at the starting velocity? Physicists, enlighten me. The morning after during school assembly, up the back of the quadrangle as we whispered and muttered among ourselves whilst the deputy headmaster bleated about not loitering near the bush near the fence and/or leaving chewing gum on the gate post, my bestie muttered, 'Did you see the spunks on 'Countdown' last night?' I was like, 'Uh, no.' My other bestie squeaked, 'That song? It's too.... nice.' Yes, it's a barfous piece of bilge, and I am glad I don't have to dress like a member of Bucks Fizz. But back to Woodstock. I said to my husband, 'I know! I'll go as a tab of that infamous brown acid.' Hubby looked at me as though I had finally blown all my inner cogs and wheels and pistons, and I said, 'You know, there was an announcement about this bad strain of acid, and people were warned to stay away from it and if they had taken some, present to the first aid tent.' He thought it would be pointless to go dressed in a costume that had to be explained to everybody. I sighed at the futility of being as brilliant and clever as I am; nobody ever gets my jokes. Truly, gentle reader, this polymathematical maelstrom of a mind is a curse. So is my beauty. And my humilty. Ahem.
Speaking of glam, I spent the previous evening arguing a point on a FB page about posting a particular song not necessarily meaning one supports nefarious activities of the singer (a group member had posted a Gary Glitter number). Today I did a post, and I stand by it: Phil Spector is a gifted producer, and with his wall of sound is responsible for timeless classics that give an amazing rush and make the hairs on the back of my neck stand when I hear them. Phil Spector is also a convicted murder. I do not support the senseless snuffing out of an innocent life, but I do not see why I shouldn't listen to music I enjoy that he is associated with. Does listening to a Wagnerian opera make me anti-Semitic by association. Methinks no. Then it would stand to reason that choosing to listen to a Gary Glitter song merely means I enjoy the evocation and memories of my childhood, not that I am in favour of the abuse of children. And trust me, there are other performers who have dallied with underage girls, too. And although I am confident old Satan has mouthpieces sufficient, I will play his advocate and point out that the Glitter band still tour, and why should they suffer? And suffer they did, for a while. That is grossly unfair. Glitter did not write those songs along, he had a co-writer Mike Leander. Mike Leander is now deceased, but why should his estate suffer? I still love the song 'Two Little Boys', and it's associated with a newly convicted child sex offender. I don't love the dude with which the song is associated, but that song still puts a tear in my eye toward the end. I always say: take the high moral ground, and you will have a limited playlist. If you want to take the high moral ground, Paddy Pallins might have some good deals on rope, crampons and pick axes.
Anyway, I'd better go. I've got two wildly bored children who are hell-bent on annoying the shit out of each other, and the flow-on effect to this is that I will end up infuriated. Their father is already theatening 'If I have to go out there....'
Next project: get my radio interview on the Internet for all to hear. Watch this space.
No comments:
Post a Comment