The Shits..........
Oh dear. It just gets worse every year. Just when you think the British Music Industry might have taken a hint it slaps you in the face with a dead fish. This year in the shape of Britain's "National Treasure" and wife of Ex-Arsenal N95 King Cashley, Cheryl Cole. I didn't waste any minutes of my precious time watching the shite they reel out every year for the Brit Awards last night, but heard and saw enough unavoidable press/photographs/complaints about the event this morning to be pretty damned pleased that I didn't!
They just about managed to pick nearly all of my least favourite people in the Music world to appear in one naff event together. Minus Peter Kay, whom it appears at least made light relief for the audience by poking fun at this year's shambolic bunch of ****'s. (insert profanity of your choice here). Mind you - it's not the crappy Pop Stars who are to blame is it? I guess it's the people who put them there.
You know who you are.
I am somewhat sad but at the same time proud to say that I don't own one record that was being promoted or celebrated on the shower of shit of a show last night, and forever shall it stay that way. Bring on next year. Or the year after that, or whenever it may be if ever that people decide to celebrate fabulous Artists that are actually talented.
The good news is I dropped my album promo in to be pressed up yesterday, soon to be followed by the complete album for which I am drawing up artwork and deciding on images for at the moment. The real crunch decision now for me is wether I go for red and white or pink and black as a colour scheme for the main artwork now I've decided I think i want to do it myself. Difficult choice. I don't want to make the wrong decision at this point, and I hope once I decide the rest will fall into place....
Anyway, for those of you who are still awake! I met a man I speak to regularly at the London Farmers Market today (go there if you want proper, home grown food - it's wicked) and we started talking about Jon Lydon, (prompted by my personalised Sex Pistols shopper) whom I haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet but adore, and he sung his praises and said what a diamond he is in the flesh and how much fun they had hanging out with him in America and I told him about my trip to Riga where I never got to meet him and the rest of the band were wearing slippers and the PIL gig at Chrimbo and that whole conversation cheered me up a load, because just yesterday I was reading this really annoying load of dribble by a load of Music Biz whingers and they were reffering to Morrissey as a twat and giving these pathetic accounts of why and how awful he is and I just Loved him all the more and more with every single sentence.
It's not all bad. The world is not completely full of crashing bores, just mostly....;-)
The bad news is though, stepped on a ladybird last night in my kitchen. By sheer accident of course but it's still upset me. I hate killing creatures. Anyway, I put it on a pink heart sticky note and placed it in my plant pot and it's still there and alive, phew! I'll let you know if there is any movement.
Inabit.;-) XXXX
