So obviously the world cup has been ruined by a bunch of schmucks blowing party horns. All the spontaneous energy that a crowd can bring to a match has been spoiled by the drone-like tedium of morons blowing trumpets set on one note. The games have been rendered dull and uninspired - influenced by the soundtrack of an endless B♭reverberating around the stadium. Any game set to B♭ is gonna be flat. If anyone thinks i’m wrong and that this is actually a brilliant note, well what do the experts say?
“B♭ is the crappest of all the notes” - Beethoven.
“I’m not being rude, but any composer who uses a B♭is an idiot. It is definitely a note used by cocks” - Mozart
“Me, Brahms and Debussy all ripped it out of Chopin when he used a B♭in front of the Duke of Vienna. Absolute cock-muncher. He looked a proper numpty sat on his stool and everyone in the room was thinking what a dick” - Strauss
Enough said, I think. Even the kazoo has more grace than the vuvuzela, and the kazoo is a fucking stupid instrument occasionally played by kids on Blue Peter when they can’t book one of those shit acts who play drums on dustbins.
Some people say we shouldn’t moan and that the vuvuzela is an African tradition. Yes that’s right - that great African tradition of plastic party horns made in China and sold for £2. The saddest thing is - the South Africans are missing out on so much. Because of the vuvuzela - South African supporters will never experience the joy of singing “the referee’s a wanker…”. How many children in Britain can look back fondly at being taken to a football match by their father and being able to call a man a wanker for ninety minutes? These are memories that us British will cherish and are a vital component of the bond between father and son. At the same time these South African fans will never know how fun it is to accuse the opposition manager of being a paedophile for ninety minutes. This is proper fun. The proper way to enjoy yourself at a football match. How many people can look back on those hazy days of youth and remember accusing a perfectly innocent man of being a paedophile for ninety minutes and then getting some chips on the way home? Joking with the man in the shop about the opposition manager being a paedophile….and the chips only used to be sixty pence a bag!
The vuvuzela is crap, and doesn’t allow for any of the individual flourishes of genius that can lead to songs like, “Ian Wright has a big fat wife”, or “Berbatov’s dad’s a gypsy”.
Sorry to keep going on about them but seriously - imagine you hadn’t seen a friend for four years and were really excited about meeting up with them and catching up, and then you did but they’d brought a new friend with who was a massive dickhead who sat there going, “Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh” all the time whilst you were trying to catch up in the coffee shop - that is what this current world cup is like…
So what do you think about the vuvuzela?
By the way did i mention i’m doing a show at Edinburgh this August?
Yeah, you should check it out and stuff. If you bring a vuvuzela i will shove it up your arse and make you blow it so that you inflate yourself until you burst.
Much love,
Lee
So the world cup is over and it was a disaster. Terry was pissed off that there were no wives or girlfriends he could fuck. Heskey was given football boots instead of horseshoes - so he was totally out at sea with this alien footwear. And Wayne Rooney looked like a drunken Phil Mitchell holding a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale, who’d pulled on an England shirt and gone out onto the pitch in an effort to impress his son. “I just wanna make Ben proud. Show him i can be a good dad.” But you’re pissed? For God’s sake look at you? You look like a homeless person. Go home and sleep it off. You’ve got sick on your three lions…
It was, in short, disastrous.
Never has a more pitiful collection of individual performances been seen since the last Fix Live Comedy Night. I know. I was there…
…I was the Emile Heskey of the UK comedy scene, holding up the laughs, dying on my arse, running around the stage, sometimes facing the wrong way, people begging for me to be taken off…but Harry Deansway - the “Fabio Capello” of Comedy Promotion - inexplicably kept me on in the blind hope that SOMEHOW i’d get a laugh ….ME! - the man who has only got one laugh in the past fifty gigs!
I took it on the chin though - and part of me empathises with the footballers who are getting a bit of flack….because footballers…comedians….we’re all performers …and we all have our good days and bad days…
…only difference is, I don’t think the nation invests their hopes and dreams in a comedian in the same way that they do in a football team. THE SUN doesn’t have headlines that scream:
“It’s coming home…Kielty can do it….this time there’s gonna be a laugh!”
There’s isn’t a front page picture of Lenny Henry saying: “At 8pm tomorrow this man goes on stage along with the hopes and dreams of a nation…”
No tabloid has ever run with the epoch defining headline:
“If Paddy McGuinness headlines tonight will the last person to leave Britain turn the light off…”
They bloody should…
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Lee
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