Garry Potter And The Same Old Nonsense - David Backhim (lightweight ebook reader .TXT) 📗

York’ is at least as good as ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’. Even Pink Floyd’s ‘obscure’ album ‘Obscured By Clouds’ is nowhere near as inferior to its’ successor, ‘The Dark Side Of The Moon’, as some shallow experts would have you believe. Excuse my arrogance, ladies and gentlemen, but too many of you lovely people are swayed by the limited playlists and downright favouritism and neglect of numerous disc-jockeys.
Mind you, the worst culprits are the legion of Monty Python fans who draw attention to such highlights as the Lumberjack Song, the Dead Parrott sketch, or The Life Of Brian. It is patently obvious that these bandwagon-jumpers have not watched a single one of Flying Circus’s forty-five 30 minute episodes. As I said, you just can’t see the wood for the trees, especially the larch.

MONTY PYTHON’S FLYING CIRCUS
Nearly every October there is a documentary or newspaper article that celebrates the anniversary of the first reluctant BBC broadcast of a ground-breaking comedy show which Michael Palin wanted to be called Gwen Dibley’s Flying Circus. The continual Transatlantic fascination with the pythons baffles me. They are horribly, nasty, slimy creatures. I much prefer cobras.

CAREER ADVICE
My humble advice to any youngsters with aspirations of a life of luxury and wealth is to try pursuing one of the following occupations: Marry Paul McCartney, and then divorce him a few years later, thereby winning a substantial compensation settlement for having to endure his singing on a daily basis. Alternatively, to those of an artistic inclination, why not paint a mural glorifying an Ulster terrorist group and then receive a generous donation from the government to remove your original artwork. Failing these enterprises, a career as a grossly overpaid footballer, golfer, tennis player, or a rock star is an absolute must. In the last resort, perhaps making a dishonest living as a television star would be desirable.

FREE NELSON MANDELA
There are few records that have impacted outside of the pop charts. One obvious exception is John Lennon’s debut solo single ‘Give Peace A Chance’, famously recorded during a Montreal hotel bed-in in 1969, which became a great rallying cry for the anti-Vietnam War campaign. Similarly, John and Yoko’s ‘Happy Christmas (War Is Over)’ was another anti-war anthem which struck a chord with thousands of people worldwide after its release in 1971.
Another ‘historic’ single which has never quite received the recognition that it merited was a track from a group by the name of The Special AKA, called ‘Nelson Mandela’. Before this song squeezed into the Top Ten in early 1984, I had never heard of Robben Island ’s most famous ‘resident’. I suspect that most of the post-sixties generation had never heard of this remarkable man who two decades earlier was the ‘black pimpernel’ – South Africa ’s public enemy number one. However, this song, the brainchild of Jerry Dammers (a sorely under-rated composer and keyboardist) created greater awareness of the plight of Mandela in captivity and also of the sufferings of the black majority in the apartheid regime. Dammers assembled a host of artists, including ex-members of his former group The Specials, and The Beat, as well as recruiting Elvis Costello as producer for this rallying cry for the anti-apartheid movement.
Having never heard of Mandela before, I suddenly found this ‘terrorist’ being frequently mentioned on news items. Eventually, he was released in February 1990, and before long, this notorious ‘criminal’ became his country’s President, impressing the world in his role as international statesman. An uptempo record from 1984 cannot be under-estimated in its impact upon Mandela’s eventual release. Of course this ground-breaking single was dwarfed several months later when Bob Geldof and Midge Ure assembled an even more illustrious roster of pop artists to record the Band Aid single, ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’, which was a worthy response to the news reports of famine in Ethiopia. Who knows, perhaps pop music can indeed change the world…..a little bit.

LIVE 8 – THE SEQUEL
I am pleased to announce the exciting news that there will be another concert extravaganza to raise awareness of poverty in the Third World . At the time of going to press, the assembled entertainers include: Tony Blair on guitar; George Dubya Bush reciting poetry; Gordon Brown doing stand-up comedy; Vladimir Putin performing an organ recital; and a comeback appearance on saxophone from Bill Clinton. These ‘artists’ are performing in protest against the riches owned by the world’s wealthiest people: Elton John, Madonna, Bono, Robbie Williams, Paul McCartney, and Mick Jagger. If these egotistical fat cats donated half their undeserved wealth to the Third World, they would make poverty ancient history.

COMMERCIALISM
I find that there is something distasteful about mega-rich celebrities earning even extra thousands of pounds, endorsing various products in television commercials, where they are encouraging people considerably less well-off than themselves to part with their hard-earned money for a quick fix of a materialistic ‘high’, thereby going further into debt. There is something lacking in people who throw their scarce resources at unnecessary items of furniture and ornaments to make them feel good about themselves again…..briefly.

STOP YOUR SOBBING
If you are complaining about your job, spare a thought for those who cannot get one. If you are moaning about the lengthy building repairs to your house, spare a thought for those who are homeless. If you are moaning about only being able to go abroad once every year, spare a thought for those who can scarcely afford to put food on their tables. If your children are giving you a hard time, spare a thought for those couples who cannot produce offspring. If your loved one is upsetting you, spare a thought for those souls who have nobody to love them. If your bout of influenza is making you feel miserable, spare a thought for those people who are terminally ill. There are an awful lot of drama queens out there who need to dry their tears and count their blessings. As Ray Davies once penned: “each little tear that falls from your eyes, makes me want to take you in my arms and tell you to stop all your sobbing”.

ANGER
There are a lot of angry people about – even angrier than me. Are they not getting much sex either? There is something horrible about certain individuals who take great pleasure in raising their voice, playing the role of a drama queen and making some unfortunate wretch look small. I also find that too many people are very horny in their cars, wanting to beep furiously over nothing in particular. If I had a pound for every storm in teacup which is blown out of proportion, I could take an early retirement. I must concur with the abuse dished out by the late Graham Chapman in Monty Python’s ‘Argument Clinic’: To all you angry, frustrated little people “shut your festering gob, you tit, your type makes me puke”.

MOTORISTS
We all have our ‘moments’ whilst driving. My own grievances focus largely on the apparent reluctance, even refusal, of many ‘responsible adults’ to use their indicators whilst driving. Is it just ignorance or another bad-mannered manifestation of the ‘don’t give a stuff’ mentality that plagues our roads, footpaths, homes, and workplaces? To get to the point, this young man remains baffled why many drivers wish to keep their movements in their vehicle concealed from other road-users. Do you ignorant people think that I am a mind-reader? Indicate which exit at the round-about that you are planning to take, if you would be so kind. Adding more insults to more injuries, and yes I am feeling increasingly wounded, many individuals not only don’t indicate when they should, but horror of horrors, indicate when they don’t need to! Why, if the lane that you are in goes right only, are you indicating to go right? Even more ludicrous are the desperados who break the world land speed record when rushing through amber lights. Do these silly people expect the subsequent red light to stay red for an hour and a half? Those cretins who just have to overtake all and sundry are not driving their wife, who has gone into labour, to hospital. No, they are in a frantic hurry to be home in time for Coronation Street . Gosh, they lead such important lives. Oh, who will rid me of these turbulent motorists?

RUSH HOUR
There is no quality of life in sitting miserably behind the wheel of a car for what seems like an eternity, as traffic crawls along at what is ironically referred to as ‘rush hour’. My suggestion for Belfast and a few other British urban centres is that more businesses need to take the initiative (which is what business firms ought to specialise in ) and start their employees at earlier times in the morning. If we had more people starting at the staggered times of 6, 7, and 8 in the morning, there would be much less motorists all heading in the same direction between 8 and 9am each weekday. Consider the advantage of working from 7am to 3pm. Children could be ‘collected’ from school’, instead of killing time around shopping centres each late afternoon. There would also be an opportunity for a little shopping, which is denied anyone on the 9 to 5, Monday to Friday treadmill. I accept that this solution is far too crazy and/or sensible, but ultimately maybe several companies could be given a financial incentive to start earlier each morning, thus alleviating traffic congestion during the laughably-titled ‘rush hour’.

LIFE IS A PERPETUAL SHOWER
Like most semi-normal people, I