I’ll be honest with you, it’s been a mucked-up week. I’ve bought bridges for banjoleles, shirts and ties to go clubbing in (for which reason I may not be able to post a blog next Wednesday but will report on the events the following Wodensdag) and set up the Fringe show online catalogue entry (among other shit).
So not only have I dedicated no time to blogging (again) but I also have failed to write the pome/rap/grimey piece that I was hoping to add to the show repertoire.
So I’ll cripple two birds with one hockey stick and share the rubbish I’ve sketched out so far, pretending I’m doing it to give insights into the writing process. The end product will be interesting to compare, as it will either be a shining piece of sociological satire and wit or a crumpled ball of paper in a bin. Place your bets now …
As is often the case I started with the punchline and have tried to justify it with a whole load of preceding drivel … which goes like this…
They used to say if something isn’t broke, don’t fix it
Now it’s more a case of if you isn’t woke, don’t mix it!
I used to think of culture as a pick’n’mix counter
Takin’ anything from anywhere in any size amounts, yeah
I listen to Flamenco while I’s knockin’ up a curry
And sing along in Tagalog; I didn’t really worry
‘Bout performin’ silly verses in a crap Welsh accent
Never gave a lot of thought ’bout what the fuckin’ hell that meant
Now enjoyin’ somethin’ comin’ from another race or nation
The PC crowd, they calls it cultural appropriation
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxs’thing about sex/sexuality
And you can’t be sayin’ nothin’ without someone gets offended
then the brilliant final couplet that might get a laugh but which I don’t want youse guys stealing before I’ve found a place for it.
So now I want to go to bed. Go away.