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   Rant about Politics and stuff (belatedly re-posted from POSTMAN BATT site) 18th April, 2010 I suppose I ought to write a bloody nother blog again. It’s a bit like going for a run around the park, you drag yourself out of bed and get on with it and when you get into a pace it’s quite fun, and then when you get home you’re glad you did it. I’m not even over the road into the park yet in blog terms but maybe I’ll get into my stride. OK so the Man In The Golden Tie “won” the first Prime Ministerial debate, but for one main reason. He – and he alone, looked down the barrel of Camera One all the time he gave his answers. None of the others looked into the camera once – except in their opening and closing pitches. Job done. At the moment I want Cameron to win, not least because I can’t stand another 5 years of a further-empowered Brown. Bloody hell, does ANYBODY? A hung parliament is a potential disaster. We should give Dave a go. If he fucks it up we can vote Gordon back in in five years’ time (!). I’ll be dead or at least badly ill by then. The fact is, Governments get arrogant after 13 years in office. Let’s let a new lot in and then kick them out after their 13 years of becoming tired and arrogant. The “Vote For Change” motto is quite good – except I suggested to party treasurers they should have their own badges made saying “Notes Or Change”. (Geddit?) Hey, I’m over the first bit of park, starting to run round the Serpentine. A few Canadian Geese jump out of my way as I head towards the swimming changing rooms where lunatics swim every morning, wearing BATHING CAPS. Surely if you are hard enough to swim in the icy waters of the Serpentine you don’t need a woossy bathing cap? Dear me, what are you, vegetarians? Anyway so
tomorrow we have the launch party (not the actual release) of
Katie Melua’s fourth studio album (although I would say
this wouldn’t I?) it’s a CRACKER!!! People from all
over the world have been unable to come because ICELAND who have
crap supermarkets, crap banks and crap volcanoes have decided
to let one of theirs off just before our party. Bastards. Volcanic
ash we don’t need. Can’t people keep their volcanic
ash to themselves? Or does this signal the fact that the World
is just one big place and we should pool our resources, - like
volcanic fall-out, - have a World Government (headed by, er…)
and share our volcanic ash and our cash and our territorial boundaries.
Muslems would be free to kill anyone they want for violating their
religion if they are – (or especially if they aren’t)
OF their religion, and Catholic priests could be as lovely as
they like to choirboys. Labour and Tories wouldn’t exist.
Only Lib Dems would. Yellow would be the only colour of government
– let’s face it, it’s the colour of sun, wheat,
butter, bananas, guaranteed anti-cholesterol margerine, puss,
er – oh, I said puss, sorry, I meant piss, oh no sorry,
I meant beautiful Chinese girls waving banners and singing songs
about working together. And those lovely little ducks for the
bath that you get in hotel rooms - at least, in the ones I go
to, not no-homo B+B's. Canyou imagine: Fucking hell. The World’s gone mad. Actually it’s BEEN mad since Coelacanths turned into humans , some time just before the first World War. So it’s ALL OUR FAULT. We shoot each other, pillage, win by-elections against each other, spit in customers’ food, burgle each other’s houses. (I’ve often wondered what a burglar would think if he got home from a night’s burglaring to discover someone had broken in and stolen his video and fucked his wife) – anyway moving on, or MAYBE NOT. Maybe that’s far enough for one night. In blog/jog terms I’m already passing the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens and on the final straight. It may have been bollocks bit at least it’s been MY bollocks. “And now the end is near…” Katie album coming out on May 24th. Phew, New suit, one would hope. New trainers. Eric Pickles
said at the special Conservative screening of the live debate
this week that he bought his shirts at Marks and Sparks, unlike
Brown and Mandelson, who clearly shop at Turnbull and Asser. I
proudly claim that everything I wear EVERY DAY is from Marks.
Suit, shirts, socks, -er, undies, - just my shoes come from the
finest shoemakers in the land. That’s fair – I’m
a reasonably famous songwriter. We are supposed to have posh shoes.
Aren't we? Can I get a socio-economic popularity steer here?
The Osteopath From Hell 28th March, 2010 We were shooting the video for Katie’s new song “The Flood” at Elstree Studios a couple of days ago, and I had a bad chest pain that I thought might have been, but probably wasn’t, a heart attack. The pain had started the day before and I’ve had that same pain years earlier and it had all been radiating from a vertebra about heart-level, between my shoulder blades. Since I broke my C2 and nearly died, six or seven years ago, I don’t like going to osteopaths, - it just isn’t something I like to do, understandably. Anyway, this pain was SO bad, and I was working on the video (I wasn’t directing this time; Kevin Godley was) – but I said to my assistant that I really thought I ought to see an osteopath to get me through the day! It was bloody painful. Anyway, it turned out that just across the road was an osteopathy place, so she was able to make an appointment for me, well-timed, right during our crew’s lunch break. Perfect. Except they DIDN’T tell her that they were a “College Of Osteopathy” and that I would be a guinea pig. In other words a student would ”crack” my back, observed by others. Not mentioned. So off I go to the place, at lunch time. As I walk in, I notice it says “College Of Osteopathy” but just think, that’s fine, some of the best hospitals are “teaching hospitals”. A young bloke in a white jacket, dressed up like a doctor, comes out and invites me into a room, saying “I’ll be treating you today”, and informs me there will be some observers. I’m in so much pain I don’t mind about observers. Key information missing was “…and I myself am a student, as in not a qualified Osteopath”. So I sit there for 45 minutes answering a huge load of questions, - really detailed medical questions. There’s one girl “observing” from the other side of the room, so I still think this guy is the osteopath and she is the student. He asks me way more info than you usually get asked in situations like this. Can I shit normally? (I normally can), whether my Mother and Father are alive (yes and no). Just to be clear, it’s not that they are both sometimes alive and sometimes not; my Dad has died and my mother hasn't. After the 45 minutes the guy tells me that of course (of course!) a student will treat me, as in crack my back. At this point I’m thinking “Hang on, nobody told me or my assistant about this! So I say, “Look, nobody told me about this: I broke my neck a few years ago – as you know because I told you half an hour ago in huge detail, - and I’m a bit nervous about being here at ALL. A student cracking my back is out of the question I’m afraid. I’ve already spent an hour now, getting here and being here, and nobody mentioned this. What’s more, I’m in agony and I have to get back to the studio to get this video made” He goes off, and five minutes later comes out and explains that this can’t happen. This is a college and a student ALWAYS does it. Another, older bloke, not wearing a doctor’s outfit (presumably the owner or principal of the college; maybe the Headmaster) walks in and starts arguing with me, saying I should have known a student would do it because it says “College of Osteopathy” on the door. I said “Are YOU a qualified Osteopath” He says, ”Yes, I’m highly qualified” I say, “Well, could you please make an exception and treat my back for me because I’m trying make a video over the road and I have to go soon, - and I paid your receptionist on the way in?” He says “I could, but I’m not going to”. I say, “You mean you’re a qualified osteopath, and you’re going to let me walk out of here in agony when you could help me?” He says, “Yes”. I say, “I’m leaving; don’t worry I’ve already paid. He says “You can have your money back” but I’m already half way out of the door. “I haven’t got time” I call, as I close the door quietly behind me. Should've slammed it, really. So I spent the whole day in pain, with restricted movement and chest pains that could have actually been a heart problem if the osteopathy had been given the chance to illiminate the idea of it being anything more than a skeletal problem What a bunch
of turkeys! And if any of you are reading this and thinking of
suing me, for defamation, just try it. You behaved unprofessionally
by not warning me either on the phone or in person that I was
to be a guinea pig for a student, and you wasted my time on a
day when I could ill afford for it to be wasted, and had a floor
full of artists and crew across the road, waiting for me to get
back and work with them. Thanks for nothing. If you don’t
destroy my intimate medical notes it’ll be me suing you.
Snow
Business Like Show Business “Well
here we are Don’t Be So Ridiculous Valley…”
These words ring in my ears today not only because I put the rough
demo vocal onto my orchestral track yesterday – for the
“Opening Scene” of Ergo – The Chronicles Of
Don’t Be So Ridiculous Valley, but also because Batt Battlements
DOES look out onto a vast valley and it’s covered in 12”
of snow at the moment, honest! |
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