“The ball’s gone over the top, the defence have stepped up but there’s no flag. After that it’s a one-on-one biscuit race between Owen and the keeper.”

“When you’re taking a free kick, the wall’s a bit like a porn film. You’re better off ignoring it or else you’ll just get distracted.”

“You’ve got to blame the defence there. The left-back came home early for his tea and got jam in his eye.”

“You can’t legislate for skill like that. He’s done a right Pan’s People on John O’Shea there.”

“Seven hours Palace fans have waited for a goal, and when they get one they’ll probably spell it wrong.”

“He’s gone up and given the centre-half a short back and sides there. Look at the replay, there’s dead hair all over the six yard box.”

“Blanc’s been caught by the quick ball over the top there. He was expecting The Troggs and they’ve gone and hit him with a right Frank Zappa.”

“Villa’s midfield’s like a handful of premium bonds. They’re there but you’re not quite sure why.”

“Zola’s split the defence with a birthday ball there. Candles, the bumps, and a sloppy kiss off his Auntie Rita. The lot.”

As I tried to get a handle on the shocking, sorrowful news, I remembered my own period of hardcore Beastie Boys fandom – hearing Slow & Low on an EP that was given away with Record Mirror in 1985 and having my 13-year-old mind BLOWN; avidly buying up everything they released over the next year or so; being disappointed when they broke into the mainstream with Fight For Your Right (it wasn’t hip hop – I didn’t like it). Yes, I liked them before you did – I’ve always been hipper than you.

But this morning, my sadness has turned to blind rage after seeing and hearing the ‘tribute’ to Yauch from those unwelcome suppliers of lite-rock corporate shite, Coldplay (the Hamfatter that somehow made it) – a piano-led cover version of the aforementioned Fight For Your Right. Here, look… see… cringe…

In case you don’t have the stomach to play the video, what Chris Martin and his gang of humming building society cashiers have done is take a goofy, dumb-as-fuck, rock anthem and clinically removed everything about it that made it great, before infusing it with their trademark empty, soulless earnestness. Yes boys, you’re sad; we get it because we’re ALL sad – just don’t apply the standard Coldplay filter to what is the Beasties’ best-known song and instantly rip apart everything that it represents.

The only thing they could have done that would have been LESS appropriate than this fucking fiasco would have been to break into the morgue, find Yauch’s still-warm corpse, flicked his penis into some kind of vague erection and then wanked him off while Chris Martin played the harmonica and tapped his foot on the floor to keep time.

NOW look what they made me do….

Indoor Dentistry

Remastering Electronic’s second album

Taking the pig to market

Borrowing God’s socks

Cancelling a standing order

Draining the Zambezi

Contacting the ombudsman

Singing the browns

Conquering the Cayman Islands

Supporting the Brand New Heavies

Upgrading to HD

Upstairs parachuting

Giving away the image rights

Knocking the top seed out in the quarter-finals

Burping the keynote speech

Getting the bonus ball

Observing the 10pm curfew

Ignoring the lodger

Combing the beach for old coins

Ash Wednesday

Puking the blue Smartie

Australia

Exercising the witch

Hosting the Eurovision

Bombing the car boot sale

Special J

Chatting with Edwyn Collins

Crop rotation

Queuing up for Pearl Jam tickets

Intimidating the witness

DMing Pee Wee Herman

Sneaking in to the labour exchange

Peter Panning / Tinkerbelling

Liberating Illinois

Handing back the MBE

Paddling in the septic tank

Unlearning Yiddish

Council Hutchence

Fiddling while Rome bursts

Fanning Her Majesty

Ignoring the gymkhana

September 11th

Feeding Boss Hogg

Bottling Morrissey

Dot Cottoning

Loving the alien

Mining for spam

Driving Miss Daisy

Escalating the grievance

Drizzling the beatnik

Getting to know James Bolam

Decorating the panic room

Multi-Coloured Swap Shop

Being affected by one of the issues in tonight’s show

Drinking the bra dry

Cheese and cheese and cheese and cheese and cheese and cheese and biscuits

Spoiling the Durham Miners’ Gala

Now I must go and mournfully throw away my hastily-written one page treatment for ‘Starfish Hitler’…

Please note that factuality of facts contained within the book cannot be verified. Do not attempt to use any of them in a life or death situation.

But the good news is that you can have it nestling in your phone or e-reading device in just a few seconds time for only 99p (or for £1.02 in the Kindle Store – not sure why it costs more there to be honest)

——————

To buy it in .mobi format (for Kindle), click this button.

——————

To buy it in .epub format (iBooks and other e-readers), click this button.

——————

To buy it in a slightly crappy-looking PDF format, click this button

——————

[via @harikunzru]