Ding dong

Festive word up!

Having just returned from Dame Reg's nuptials, I'm not best placed write my annual Christmas message to my adoring fans but here goes.

What a do that was. Having spent 3 hours in traffic on the way there only to find that it was the queue for Ikea, you can imagine that yours truly was not in the best frame of mind on arrival. Still, the old queen did us proud and I managed to put away my fair share of the bubbly on offer. Good to see Ozzie Osbourne and Mrs Beckham there even though I did get them mixed up - and that was before I'd hit the Bollie.

So now its back to reality and Christmas Day at my mum's. She's in a bit of tizz because of all this bird flu business. Last I heard she was basting the turkey with Vick as a precaution. I only hope we don't have Lemsip sauce to go with it. Unlike the royal wedding, it will be a modest affair. Just me, my old mum and her toy boy. I was hoping my beloved would be able to join us but she suddenly remembered she had to climb Kilimanjaro or something. So it'll be the usual turkey and all the trimmings followed by a 3 hour drunken doze in front of the Xmas edition of Pimp my Ride. I believe it's Santa's sleigh that's getting the treatment this year.

So another year closes without a number 1. I was going to re-record 'All I want for Christmas is a Beatle' but looking at the ones that are left, I decided not to bother. What a year it has been in the rock firmament, what with that 70's throwback - Rod Stewart fathering yet another sprog instead of collecting his pension and moaning about the state of the paving stones outside the post office. It set yours truly thinking about the future and what it holds for the golden generation. I mean, what with Sir Mick and the boys on yet another tour with Keef asking every 5 minutes whether he's had his dinner yet and Lady Elton getting spliced, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the world has tipped every so slightly off-centre.

Anyway must dash, there's a carol concert at the Al Jazeera Tapas bar and Massage Parlour and I'm keen to get a front seat.

Season's Greetings and a Happy New Year


VG - RS

Blinking into the sunlight

Word up!

So you thought VG was no more? Well let me tell you, he's back and he's better than ever. For those of you who are the tiniest bit interested, I've been on a bit a sabbatical 'oop north drying out writing my memoirs in a desperate bid to make some moolah for the forthcoming festive season. I decided to miss out all the childhood stuff - living in one room with 11 siblings ( mainly because I lived in rather a nice house in the suburbs with my own room)- and jump straight to the '60s. Five months later and I can only recall an afternoon in Earls Court with a australian backpacker who taught me the chords to 'Tie me Kangaroo Down, Sport'. Plus ca change, c'est le meme chose, as my old dad used to say (he was a french polisher).

So, now I'm considering, as they say, my options. Casting about in the muddy pool that is rock (or is that the rock pool that is Mud?), I see that anybody who's managed to survive the years of excess is now on tour peddling 30 year old songs in the hope that some anorak with a computer will sample something for their next downloadable ditty and save them the trouble of going out of the house at all. If you are Robert Plant, you stick a load of rugs on stage, burn some incense, play everything at half speed and call it world music. Cynical? Moi? At least you won't see me on Coronation Street. Yes I mean you, Rossi and Parfitt.

Anyway, I'm off to revisit my usual haunts in a bid to make binge drinking an Olympic sport by 2012.

Someone's got to do it...