Wednesday, 23 March 2011

my big fat pop song


It must be hard for pop songwriters. Having to plumb the depths of metaphor, to strive for something new and original in a genre that has been pumped, sampled and autotuned to hell/Ke$ha and beyond - to find imaginative and different ways to say 'I'm having fun in the club, DJ play my song, on the floor etc. etc.' ad nauseam. 


Perhaps that's why artists have taken to increasingly abstract themes in a bid to make their songs more interesting. Bruno Mars is blowing himself up for his evil girlfriend (he'd catch a grenade for ya), Katy Perry is getting it on with aliens in E.T. (Kanye West really knows how to woo the ladies: 'Pockets on Shrek, rockets on deck, tell me what’s next, alien sex. I’mma disrobe you, than I’mma probe you, see I abducted you, so I tell ya what to do') and Enrique Iglesias, well. He's a man of complex subtlety."Please excuse I don't mean to be rude, but tonight I'm fucking you." 

And they say chivalry is dead.

Anyway, it's all very well to mock, but could I actually do any better? Well, I tried. Using Katy Perry's E.T. as inspiration, I penned a sexy floor-filling tune about cleaning the kitchen. Enjoy.

'Fast-acting grease-removing love'

Boy, when you put on
Those marigolds
You know you set my soul on fire

Just the thought of you
Cleaning the kitchen
It’s like a hurricane of desire

(Chorus)

Oh baby baby yeah
Let’s get antibacterial
I want your, I want your
Fast-acting grease-removing love

Yeah that’s right
Make it hot
Oops I think you missed a spot
I want your, I want your
Fast-acting grease-removing love

See, my hob, yeah
It’s really dirty from that time when I cooked rice (oooooh rice yeah)
So baby, get the Fairy out
I think that it needs a scour
You and me can clean for hours

And boy, my microwave
It’s got some
Weird mouldy shit on it
Think I need another hit
Of your fast-acting grease-removing love

Oh baby baby yeah
Let’s get antibacterial
I want your, I want your
Fast-acting grease-removing love

Yeah that’s right
Make it hot
Oops I think you missed a spot
I want your, I want your
Fast-acting grease-removing love




Sunday, 13 March 2011

where is the love? co-op, apparently.

Swans. Why?


Blimey, it’s been a long-ass time since I wrote anything on this blog. In the words of Gaga herself ‘I’m kinda busy’. However, I felt physically compelled to return to my keyboard to address the matter of these ridiculous Co-Op ads. No, I’m not referring to the vaguely period drama ones – I’m talking about the earnest two-part husband and wife his-and-hers specials that have plagued our screens for the past eternity or so.

The concept is simple: a psychotic husband goes on television – unbeknownst to his beleaguered yet still sort of a MILF wife – and starts blurting out all kinds of trivial but intimate details about their relationship. He blames supermarkets for the deterioration of their marriage, and the turgid joyless nature of their lives:

“I don’t want to do that massive weekly shop anymore. I don’t want us to sit in that traffic jam anymore.”

Hitting his stride, he babbles on, becoming increasingly less coherent and more hysterical. There is a sort of chilling madness in his eyes as the camera zooms in and, channelling Brontë’s Heathcliff, he all but screams:

“I don’t want to throw any more sausages away. I LIKE sausages!”

All of this is set against a backdrop of bizarre and disturbing imagery that appears to be only slightly relevant. As the husband informs the nation that he wants to “You know…” with his wife on a Saturday morning, pictures of lions chillaxing on the savannah flash to the fore.

No, we don’t know. We can only guess. You want to go to the zoo? You want to go on a safari? The Co-op thinks lions are sexy? Or, worse still, maybe he does, which would explain why the marriage has gone to shit – and by the way, if you’ve been together for 20 years, shouldn’t you be past the tentative ‘wink wink nudge nudge’ stage?

At any rate, this unfortunate woman publicly forgives her husband for exposing this sorry state of affairs – though she’s still not sold on that whole kinky lion sex thing. Presumably, the viewer at home is supposed to be left with the conclusion that supermarkets are evil, homewrecking divorce-peddlers and that Co-op is the only solution for marital discord.

In reality, we are left cold and puzzled. These two could clearly use a holiday, or maybe couples counselling.

Oh, and someone should probably tell them that Tesco deliver, too.