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alexsarllSo I'm on the 29 bus home from the Indelicates; it's been intermittently chucking down, and I am trying my level best to read, stay vertical, and not let my umbrella drip on anyone. Suddenly, I am distracted from Three Men In A Boat by outraged shrieking. A Concerned Mother is yelling at an apparently blameless chap sat on the back seat "YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER! DON'T YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER! SHE FOURTEEN YEARS OLD! I CALL POLICE!"
She then proceeds to start hitting him with her bag. Aforementioned daughter is, as any teenager would be, mortified by the display and attempts to move further from a) her mother and b) the alleged assailant, whom she was nowhere near from at latest the point where my attention was drawn to the situation.
The bus lurches. The daughter slams bodily into your innocently reading narrator.
I wonder briefly whether the mother's English is good enough to grasp the concept 'own goal', but am mainly profoundly glad that that was the lurch of the bus slowing for my stop.
(And for the record, you dirty-minded sods - no, not with someone else's)
The Indelicates had, of course, been excellent as ever, although given some of the banter I feel the need to act as peacemaker in the needless beef apparently developing with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
kgillen over the lyrics to 'Heroin'. Kieron - it's meant to be a pastiche of bad indie lyrics. Indelicates - he likes lots of your other songs. Let's all stay calm here, eh?
They were supporting, inexplicably, another 'new Lily Allen' - this one anointed not only by being a female singer-songwriter with a London accent, but by famous parentage. Alas, while I respect Bill Oddie greatly, his daughter hath not the pop skillz of Keith Allen's.
And if I'm trying to keep this semi-linked, the Indelicates' masterful dedication of anti-protest song 'Julia, We Don't Live In The Sixties' to "the million people who marched through London to protest against the removal of a fascist government" brings us nicely to the depressingly predictable outrage over Sir Salman Rushdie's knighthood. My sentiments on this moronic, self-contradictory posturing and anyone spineless enough to sympathise with it for a moment do not need any lenghthy elucidation, but they do make me a little sad that I have almost finished my current bag book, Christopher Hitchens' excellent God Is Not Great; at times like this, it's nice to have an excuse to register on every public transport trip one's utter contempt for monotheism's claims to 'respect' simply by the title of one's reading matter. If you'd rather have a less hectoring Dawkins who learned a little more about prose from Wodehouse and a little less from the zealots he condemns, then this is the heretical grimoire for you. I resist the temptation to quote from it as extensively as it deserves, but shall content myself with noting that I'm still giggling at his description of one particularly witless creationist screed as "unlikely even to rate a footnote in the history of piffle".
Elsewhere in the realm of baffling ideologies: "30 masked anarchists armed with CS gas, iron bars and baseball bats stormed the stadium at approximately 11:20 pm while the Beastie Boys were performing." Are the Beasties agents of The Man now, then? I appreciate that they've gone off the boil a bit lately, but this still seems excessive as a critique of their recent work.
She then proceeds to start hitting him with her bag. Aforementioned daughter is, as any teenager would be, mortified by the display and attempts to move further from a) her mother and b) the alleged assailant, whom she was nowhere near from at latest the point where my attention was drawn to the situation.
The bus lurches. The daughter slams bodily into your innocently reading narrator.
I wonder briefly whether the mother's English is good enough to grasp the concept 'own goal', but am mainly profoundly glad that that was the lurch of the bus slowing for my stop.
(And for the record, you dirty-minded sods - no, not with someone else's)
The Indelicates had, of course, been excellent as ever, although given some of the banter I feel the need to act as peacemaker in the needless beef apparently developing with
kgillen over the lyrics to 'Heroin'. Kieron - it's meant to be a pastiche of bad indie lyrics. Indelicates - he likes lots of your other songs. Let's all stay calm here, eh?They were supporting, inexplicably, another 'new Lily Allen' - this one anointed not only by being a female singer-songwriter with a London accent, but by famous parentage. Alas, while I respect Bill Oddie greatly, his daughter hath not the pop skillz of Keith Allen's.
And if I'm trying to keep this semi-linked, the Indelicates' masterful dedication of anti-protest song 'Julia, We Don't Live In The Sixties' to "the million people who marched through London to protest against the removal of a fascist government" brings us nicely to the depressingly predictable outrage over Sir Salman Rushdie's knighthood. My sentiments on this moronic, self-contradictory posturing and anyone spineless enough to sympathise with it for a moment do not need any lenghthy elucidation, but they do make me a little sad that I have almost finished my current bag book, Christopher Hitchens' excellent God Is Not Great; at times like this, it's nice to have an excuse to register on every public transport trip one's utter contempt for monotheism's claims to 'respect' simply by the title of one's reading matter. If you'd rather have a less hectoring Dawkins who learned a little more about prose from Wodehouse and a little less from the zealots he condemns, then this is the heretical grimoire for you. I resist the temptation to quote from it as extensively as it deserves, but shall content myself with noting that I'm still giggling at his description of one particularly witless creationist screed as "unlikely even to rate a footnote in the history of piffle".
Elsewhere in the realm of baffling ideologies: "30 masked anarchists armed with CS gas, iron bars and baseball bats stormed the stadium at approximately 11:20 pm while the Beastie Boys were performing." Are the Beasties agents of The Man now, then? I appreciate that they've gone off the boil a bit lately, but this still seems excessive as a critique of their recent work.
