Monday, July 02, 2007

Present laughter...

Children can give their parents pretty naff presents. In the early days its stuff you have to stick on your fridge. Ocassionally it's something you can eat. Sometimes it's a combination of both of the above. Now and then they'll buy you a CD by a band you can't stand. Today, however, I celebrate the realisation that, as bad as it's got, my offspring have never given me anything as terrible as Duran Duran, Orson and The Feeling. I'm far from a royalist - indeed, I'd happily hang all members of the monarchy from the nearest tree if it wasn't, well, illegal (come the revolution, I'll be the one at the back citing all the reasons why we can't revolt). But I do feel sorry for The Princess Diana of Whales. Did she really wander through land mines, shake the hands of lepers and have her hair feathered just so that one day a concert with a line-up so dreadful it's a wonder it hasn't already been on at the KC Stadium could take place? Fair enough, Kanye West, P Diddy, Take That and, gulp, the English National Ballet came out the other end with some credibility intact (P Diddy and credibility is an oxymoron, I know). But did Princesses William and Harry really need to inflict Status Quo on a potential audience of 500 million people? Did the airwaves really need Ricky Gervais embarassing himself as he desperately tried to fill time with zero material? And shouldn't Bryan Ferry have been put down by now? Charidee, blimey, is it worth six hours of that?
And then there's the BBC coverage (oh, the irony, it was a fine example of car crash television). What a waste of resources. What a lot of disastrous dead air and pictures with no sound and Fern Cotton. And Jamie Theakston handing over to Fern Cotton with a never-ending stream of totally useless and incorrect links (in the end it was more of a surprise if he got something right). "To Fern, who's with Take That." "Here I am, with Joe Perry, Joss Stone and Tom Jones." Kill them, Fern, kill them, there may never be another chance to rid the world of this trio with one deft, swift martial arts move. But no, not only was she unable to Uma Thurman them out of existence, she couldn't even ask a killer question like, "why did you completely mess up your guitar solo during Kiss, Joe?"
And how many times did we need to be told that "the atmosphere is electric". It quite plainly wasn't. Sure, Wembley filled up by the time Elton John shuffled on in his half-mast stripey pants, but there was so much space between people holding their Concert for Diana tribute programmes aloft (lack of lighters, was it, in these post-smoking in public days?) that I'm certain there was more atmosphere on the planet Mercury. Where was the rock? Where was the roll? Where was the excitement? None of that but always space for Lily Allen, eh? What's wrong with the world? My God, it was so bad I would have happily enjoyed seeing my anathema The Who headline and, for once, I wouldn't have shouted nasty stuff at whatever area of the screen Pete Townshend was stood in.
You know what I'm thinking? As much as I despise the cult of Diana, the poor, misguided woman deserved a whole lot more than the flakey bloke from Supertramp, Simon Cowell being his usual egomaniacal self and Dennis Hopper introducing acts that don't even deserve introductions as if they were the Second Coming. The truth? This wasn't a celebration of someone's life at all - it was a massive PR exercise for her two sons. And the pro-war Harry speech? Leave it out, hereditary parasitic warmonger, and heed the words of Kanye: Peace.

4 comments:

David said...

But you enjoyed it really?

Dave W said...

Loved every minute of it, DC. You?

Stephen Newton said...

I forgot it was on, but XFM's afternoon DJ was laying in to it yesterday. Is it true P Diddy said: 'scream if you miss Princess Di!'?

Dave W said...

P Diddy was a bit of a preacher at the altar of Diana and said a lot of silly things although I don't recall that one - but I may have nodded off. I've since been informed that Ricky Gervais's "I've got no material, I've not written any. How bad is this? How many more minutes?" drivel was actually scripted. Oh, in that case it was hilarious comedy genius.