As I write to you I am listening to what OH calls ‘the only right-wing pop song ever’ (though I think OH may have forgotten ‘Sweet Home Alabama‘ or anything by Ted Nugent) in other words, ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again‘ by The Who.
I absolutely love The Who, not least because they are from my home town (though I was far too young to see them play at the White Bear in Hounslow) and I don’t consider ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ to be a right-wing song so much as a cynical take on revolutionary politics, more in the vein of ‘Animal Farm’.
I’m pausing for a moment while I wait for Roger Daltrey to scream.
OK that’s done. I’m now trying to think of some way of celebrating the New Year whilst realising deep down that having woken up at 5.30 this morning, I’m 99.9% certain to be asleep when it comes (I’ll be pushing out the zzzzz’s when it comes; I’ll be pushing out the zzzz’s when it comes….) there are times when I really do feel old and pathetic. But hey, it’s not as if a jumble of events are competing for my participation; as far as I can see folk in Loughborough are all asking themselves what’s happening for New Year and the furthest they’ve got is someone saying they’re going to Diane’s house. I don’t know Diane so I’m stuck. It would be nice to have somewhere at least to pretend to go even though I know I’ll inevitably fall asleep on the sofa before 10 o’clock.
In 2020 I’ll be there for a while but I don’t think I can have a drink or any dinner tonight or tomorrow night if I don’t have a drink or tomorrow night if I don’t have a shower then again I have a good time to do with this app.
That is what I’ll be doing next year according to the predictive text on my phone, which gives a rather dispiriting insight into the type of words I use most often and what a rock-n-roll life I lead.
Ah well. Happy New Whatever.