You wouldn't think it thanks to Sir Bob and that bog trotter sidekick of his. Yours truly turned up to Band Aid 20 recording to do his bit and was told in no uncertain terms that his contribution was not required. Apparently they preferred that long-haired poser from the Darkness because he had more 'target audience identity' - whatever that means. In my humble anyone can hit the high notes wearing trousers that tight.
Anyway, after being escorted to the street by a couple of Geldof's minions, I repaired to the local musos boozer with the groupies. Now there's another thing, I reckon they're getting past it. All they do is sit in the corner with bottles of mineral water saying things like 'Is it me, or is it hot in here?'. Not very rock and roll, is it? I do have my reputation to think of. Perhaps I should take a leaf out of Jagger's book and start running some sort of youth opportunity programme.
The season of goodwill has managed to bypass the Grope household as well. My mum vetoed the Yueltide lighting extravaganza I had planned for the outside of the house. For some unaccountable reason, she was not keen on the flashing statue of Jordan dressed as Mrs Santa I had commissioned from my mate Damien. As you can imagine, it cost me a bundle on account of extraordinary number of lights required to project the right, um, image. Well, I tell you something, the old lavender bath salts gift pack will not be nestling under the tree this year.
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