Britain 2014. A nation that is in the grip of a million types of crisis. Need and want is evident wherever your eyes dare to wander. Today though, a new, desperate voice has been heard. A voice that roars, ‘Who will babysit my sourdough starter?’
To the uninitiated, this sounds like the confused howl of a lunatic but in fact a sourdough starter must be ‘fed’. You can’t just bang one out in a few hours like it’s a white tin loaf or something, you fucking tit. Jesus. Something something yeast, something something bacteria – OBVIOUSLY.
If you’re lucky enough to have a job or go on holiday, you’re screwed. As with a cat or dog, the sourdough starter needs to be nurtured, otherwise it’ll die. And like a dead cat or dog, the stink will soon become unbearable and there’ll be maggots everywhere. Probably.
Just like ghoulish, silver-topped human penis Paul Hollywood, we’re stuck with the cult of the sourdough starter, and it could be a 2015 election-winning issue.
Victory might hinge on whether Cameron or Miliband have the (dough) balls to introduce paid paternity leave for fathers of sourdough starters (because it’s mostly blokes, right?). At the very least, free nursery places for fledgling sourdough starters will surely be on the agenda.
Meanwhile, UKIP will dodge the issue as it’s too modern and weird, and a newly-independent Scotland will be immune, too concerned with fully utilising its shortbread mountain.
Britain 2014. A nation that is up to its neck in bread trends and can’t stop. A nation that has become an artisan bakery junkie, forever chasing that next, more elaborate, hit.
A nation that needs to get a fucking grip and just send off for some sea monkeys instead.
I scripted these. Tim Major drew them.
Yesterday, a great man passed away. Beastie Boy Adam Yauch, aka MCA, aka Nathaniel Hornblower died at the criminally young age of 47. The outpouring of grief around the world can be measured by looking at social media – at one point in the US yesterday evening, nine of the top ten trending topics were Beastie-related.
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….
So, I made an advert for a top firm…
Here’s some cartoon strips that I wrote for Loaded a long time ago. A genius called Tim Major drew the pictures.
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
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
Puking the blue Smartie
Exercising the witch
Hosting the Eurovision
Bombing the car boot sale
Chatting with Edwyn Collins
Queuing up for Pearl Jam tickets
Intimidating the witness
DMing Pee Wee Herman
Sneaking in to the labour exchange
Peter Panning / Tinkerbelling
Handing back the MBE
Paddling in the septic tank
Fiddling while Rome bursts
Fanning Her Majesty
Ignoring the gymkhana
Feeding Boss Hogg
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
Got the January blues? Take heed of the advice handed out by this car park ticket machine in Durham…