Sinister: Poppycock

Lucy Alder lucyalder at xxx.com
Wed Dec 6 18:33:09 GMT 2000


I'm still at work and am likely to be here as late as last night, but if I
don't get these darn spreadsheets done, Cinderella can't go to the ball. 
It's the office Christmas party tomorrow night and it's at London Zoo. 
Quite how I'll manage to tiptoe round heaps of camel dung in my heels is
beyond me, but unlimited champagne and the opportunity to see coworkers
make fools of themselves is not to be missed.  Anyway, we all need a
break, don't we?  So rather than attempt any Drew-style escapades, I
thought I'd write to you lot.

A couple of weeks ago, Julie Burchill tried to sound Important and
Controversial in the Guardian by writing about grown-ups who profess to
like P!O!P! and how they should leave shiny, fluffy music in the territory
of teenagers.  I tried not to imagine what she'd say to me (if she really
cared) if she heard I, at the age of twenty-five, had acquired tickets for
Britains top Saturday morning show.  That's right, last weekend I went to
CD:UK.  

We arrived at the studios at the ungodly hour of 10am and were shown into
a hospitality room where they served us... cups of water.  Then, they made
us practice dancing to garage hits.  Sober.  On a Saturday morning.  This
was meant to warm us up.  They also made us practice clapping and whooping
and sounding enthusiastic.  The bloke standing on the table getting us to
dance/clap/whoop/sound enthusiastic then told us what a rubbish show it
was going to be.  We were about to enjoy performances by Madison Avenue,
Oxide & Neutrino, Sugababes and S Club 7.  5ive would not be live.  Slash
would swear and talk about blow jobs, but his mic would be turned down, so
we would miss it.

Have you ever tried to dance/clap/whoop/sound enthusiastic when you
really, really, really can't stand the music?  It's HELL!  Especially in a
great big shed with only a hundred-odd people inside, swinging cameras
threatening to decapitate you and a bunch of scrawny clones in cowboy hats
wiggling their arses on stage.  We had to dance/clap/whoop/sound
enthusiastic to a very forgettable Madison Avenue song THREE times
(they've recorded another two versions for future programmes, oh joy,
watch out for me next week, folks).  S Club 7 might not have grinned at
each other quite so happily had they realised they had only half a dozen
fans in the room and the rest of us were cheering their choruses because
if we didn't, a chap in headphones would sneak up behind us and threaten
us with violence.

Dear old Important, Controversial Julie Burchill, you got it right for
once.  P!O!P! may look shiny and fluffy, but underneath it's made of grey
old brillo pads.  Or something.  Thank goodness I didn't go last week.  I
don't think I could bear to see Kylie looking haggard and lumpy.

On to other stuff...

We wonder if the person masquerading as Edna Welthorpe considers himself
on a literary par with Joe Orton and if he sees himself as a watchdog of
public morals, a daft egotist or both :)  Beat Goes On was, indeed, the
name of a Sonny & Cher song, but I was just joshing when I (not Mark C)
said that - it was Sonny Rich who did the version the Gents (I like that
name, thank you Mr Miller) covered and I remember the All Seeing I also
did it a couple of years ago.  Actually, I thought the GW gig was pretty
good.  I didn't catch a glimpse of Isobel's bum, but I did hear a couple
of bum notes.  She was both sharp and flat and she knew it because I saw
her wince, but I'll forgive her because when they rocked out a bit, they
weren't half bad.  Shame they didn't do Sister Woman - I think it would
have been quite successful.  I still got the feeling Bill Wells had been
helping Bel with her homework though...  I found the BW Trio about as dull
as a theme repeated over and over again with very little variation.  Oh,
hang on, that's exactly what they did.

People appear to be crushing on my old email address - does that mean
people preferred me as I was six months ago?  Should I get my hair cut?

Is anybody else going to see Monica Queen at the Notting Hill Arts Club on
Saturday?

Juicy Lucy

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