Even though he’s turned into a git, I have great difficulty in slagging off Bono. You see, I liked U2 before anyone else, and even had the Bono boots to prove it. Remember them? They were dead gay and had leather straps and other paraphernalia attached to them -what were we thinking? But Bob Geldof went to shit years ago, like1980 or something. Face it, he couldn’t even sing God bless him. But what gets my chowdah rising, is that he, and his talentless, bland daughter Peaches are never off the Godamn TV, telling me how white my shirts should be and I can’t be a man cos I mustn’t smoke and my mere existence is causing death on a scale unimaginable across the third world. If I was rich he’d have a point, but I ain’t, so he hasn’t.
Here’s the trick Bob. Put your hand in your own deep pockets and shut the f**k up.
He’s a Londoner now like Madonna, so they’ll be all over our screens, berating us come the Telethon, then it’ll be off to Maxim’s for a righteous coke fest with naked women and everything, just like ancient Rome.
I do a lot of work for charity me, but I don’t like to talk about it.
So like I sent that nice man Mike Atkinson a post from last September for his charity book. If any of you want to send him something, this is the link. He’s not fussy, but you mustn’t be Irish, and why not? Because of Bob and Bono that’s why. It’s a backlash. Maybe he’s frightened of a repeat, or maybe he’s a xenophobic, fascist, Little Englander, or maybe it‘s copyright, we may never know.
Obviously if he doesn’t choose me for inclusion, I’ll scrub every reference to him. It will be as if he never existed.
Actually, It wasn’t nearly as funny as I’d remembered it.
Don’t you think life’s a bit like that ?