The Twerk Ethic

Last night, I had the misfortune to have to hear the Miley Cyrus offering - Wrecking Ball.   I was trapped in a moving car - there was no escape.  Christ on a bike, it was bad.

I accept that I'm old and that I'm not the target Cyrus demographic and that I am obliged to complain about young people's music.  However, I tried to be subjective and simply to judge it on artistic merits. Trouble is that is has none.  There isn't even anything resembling a tune.  Over-produced, creatively-bankrupt shite, mostly.  Women wailing, men shouting, lots of whistles and clicks.   It sounded more like  two dolphins cage-fighting in front of a hostile crowd, while playing kazoos out of their blow holes.


And then there are the cover versions.  Many good songs being taken out and ritually humiliated by a new 'interpretation'.  I can only hope that the original artists has been connected to a generator - they're going to be spinning in their graves so fast, they can be used as a power source.


I also heard renowned Doner Kebab-wearer, Lady Gaga droning on that her man can "Use my body any way you want to".  This was followed by another woman shouting that she'll "Use them any way I can to get you". These seem to be pretty unambiguous - these girls are top trumping as to who can be the dirtiest.  Is that necessary?  Is it wise?  What next?  "Baby you can go in dry!"  or "Hey boy! I can stick a pineapple up my bum!"   At least if they did that, I have good reason to turn off the radio.

Far too late to close the Pandoras Box that is Psy, though.  My kids - all kids - love 'Gangnam Style' - even if my youngest insists that it is 'Gammon Style'.  They have no idea what 'sexy' is but they use it all the time.  Heyyy! Sexy Breakfast!" and "Heyyy! Sexy School Tie" etc. etc.

My kids want to listen to Capital Radio in the car.   But not the London Capital Radio - not the Capital Radio of the Clash - ooo no - they want the parochial, regional Capital Radio with inane advertisments for local car dealers and kebab shops. The DJs are the usual post-lobotomistic fucktards and all in all, I feel that I am being a good parent by refusing to allow it in my car and giving them Pere Ubu instead.  What doesn't kill them will make them stronger.

I'm not giving in and I'm certainly not getting down with the kids.  I have plenty of other ways of losing what little dignity I have left.  I don't need to pretend to like young peoples music to get them to like me.  They won't like me and I won't like their music.  It a deal.

I should be down with the kids though.  A quick look through my music collection will show that I'm pretty fond of stuff that doesn't have a tune.   But there is a difference between the joyous noise of Husker Du and the wear-out-one-note-and-then-struggle-to-the-next-one 'tune' of Wrecking Ball -  a song that owes more than it intends to Ted and Dougal's original version of My Lovely Horse.

Mmmm.  My Lovely Horse.  I feel much better now.

Beardy Weirdy

Those of you who have seen me recently might have noticed that I'm growing a beard.  Many people are growing 'taches for Movember and so I thought I could slip in a beard while so many others were also looking repellent.   But instead of Movember, I've got a head start for Decembeaver or Fanuary.  Doesn't matter which - I know my beard will fit in a treat.


Movember and 'taches aren't really my disco demographic. A beard, however, can be a dignified and noble addition to a face.  There is no possible shape of 'tache that isn't going to make me look like a massive wanker.  And not just me.  

To be honest, it isn't a great beard.  It looks more like I have used my shepherding skills to corral stray pubes onto my face.  And there is some truth to that.  Rather that using a real sheepdog to chase my pubes to my face (too 'specialist'), I simply shaved off all the wandering pubes except those on my chin. A feature of middle age is that larger, coarser hairs start to appear all over the place.  This is a perfectly normal phenomenom - it's called the 'Pube Sabbatical'.  After a pube has spent 30 years or so, hanging round your bollocks, it gets given a holiday in your eyebrows or ears.  I've simply used social media* to tell a few pubes that there was a house party on my chin.   It went viral and they've all turned up.

The beard's days are numbered though.  My poor long-suffering wife puts up with a lot but she has put her foot down about the facial hair.   It is too bristly and she says that I am unkissable.  I'm very fond of my wife and do not want to be unkissable.   Seems that my bristles are too coarse and spiky.  She tells me that other mens beards are much softer.  Make of that what you will.  But she has a point - it does feel like I have shredded wheat glued to my face.  In tests, one out of one wife who expressed a preference, said that the whiskers were shit.

I've had a look on the internet for beard softening.   One recommendation was to use hair conditioner.  I slopped a load of it onto my face.  I saw myself in the mirror. With all that cream conditioner on my face, I looked like the closing frame of the worlds worst porn film.   Didn't work either - my beard stayed resolutely brillo-pad like.

The old adage about cultivating on your face what grows wild around your arse is plainly untrue.  If I had hair like this on my arse, it'd rip my boxers to shreds and wiping my arse would require me to wear leather gauntlets.  Again, a bit more 'specialist' than I'd like.

I've been through the bathroom cabinet; trying out various oils and unguents. I've tried massage oil, cocoa butter and cough syrup so far. I smell nice but I still have a beard like a hedgehog's minge.

I had been hoping to grow the beard and 'tache and use wax to make a showpiece of them - something a bit Salvador Dali.  I still have the moustache wax that I bought for a seabed-themed fancy dress party.  I used the wax to straighten and set my ballbag-pubes so that my bollocks looked like sea urchins.  Looked great but I had to walk really slowly.

And so, unless on of you can come up with a credible beard-softening suggestion, I'll be shaving it off in the next few days.  



*Yes.  My pubes are my Facebook friends. Why ever not?  I see them every day and they never fail to make me laugh.  Best Friends.