I can't see John Terry turning up in Countdown's Dictionary Corner anytime soon.
This, from the back page of today's Times:
Terry's explanation is that he responded in an aggressive fashion to an accusation phrased in the form of a question from Ferdinand, "Did you just call me a f***ing black c***?" The England captain has told Chelsea officials that he reacted by shouting, "Oi! I never said f***ing black c*** you f***ing knobhead."
Fly/Navy: one of the many flight stickers adorning Fame's Hammond
Georgie Fame without his beloved Hammond organ? It's a contender for Rhod Gilbert's Celebrity Out Of Context Bingo, surely: Ant without Dec, A Chuckle Brother on his own, Jeremy Clarkson on a bus etc.
But when penning a jingle for a popular brand of petrol, Fame didn't have time in the studio to show his guitarist the chords. So he played it himself. And the song, which doesn't even mention petrol, went to Number One.
Neil Harrison doesn't believe in anti-ageing cream
After 31 years of aping John Lennon, head honcho of The Bootleg Beatles, Neil Harrison, is finally hanging up his Rickenbacker. During a gig in St. Albans earlier this year Bootleg John announced that he was leaving the group 'to bring the average age down a bit.' Harrison's mimicry has mesmerised audiences the world over - the refrain 'it's like he's in the room' has been echoing around Bootlegs' shows for so long that retirement probably won't come easy (the real Lennon would have been 71 today, and obviously for him retirement was never an option). So big shoes to fill then. Step forward Adam Hastings. Not surprisingly he's been headhunted from another Beatles tribute band.
Adam Hastings - they found him in Hamburg, you know
So now, instead of plying his trade in the lower leagues, the Blue Square if you will, he's now, quite literally, playing in Europe. How will audiences react? Will they believe in the new Lennon just as they did the old? For what it's worth, I think there's another 30 years in the tank yet; a bit like The Harlem Globetrotters, or The Drifters, it's the name over the door the punters come to see.
At our last songwriters circle on Monday we got to talking about Bob Dylan's Sara. It was suggested that it was the only lyric to contain the word kelp. Would that it were. Looking at this list it would appear we are living in a kelp abundant world.
Likewise Jona Lewie's 'Kitchen at Parties.' I really did think that it was the only song to mention the word rebuffed. Wrong!
We all remember different things from our childhood and adolescence. Some of the most memorable moments for me came from sitting in my bedroom in front of my very first portable TV (Black & White, of course). I say in front; when adjusting the aerial (nothing more than a glorified coat hanger) to obtain a better picture I was stood invariably to the side (and sometimes behind the damn thing) trying, in vain, to get rid of the permanent snow which blighted most programmes. Most programmes after 11 o'clock at night, that is. Which is when I saw 'La Cabina' (The Telephone Box). A foreign film with no dialogue, it left me with a permanent fear of using public telephones. Dating back to the early 70s I would probably have seen it around '74/'75. And then only the once. VHS/Betamax was just a pipe-dream so it was burned into my retinas where it's remained for 35+ years. Until today. I've finally found it; I can now uninstall it from my brain's hard drive.
Anyway, put the kettle on and pull up a chair - it's worth it.
I've had a cracking few days; in no particular order: newly found relatives coming miles out of their way to have lunch with us. Calling an old school friend long distance in California. I've acquired a new guitar. The weather, for once, has been something to write home about. And then my best friend and his GLW stopped with us a couple of days - and he played me this:
I can't see John Terry turning up in Countdown's Dictionary Corner anytime soon.
