As ever I return to Music(c)
By
Michael Casey
If
you have been reading my stuff for a while then you will know that I
like a bit of music, sometimes I listen till dawn before I am able to
sleep so it is great company. As is the BBC World service which plays in
the Radio4 slot during the night time hours.
I've
found a stack of stuff online so I'll be listening to that, my own
record collection is mainly 80s and 90s so the newer stuff will be a bit
more varied. Or it will be the remastered versions of my old stuff,
marriage and kids put paid to having any new CDs decades ago. So
online free stuff, with or without annoying adverts is what I'll be
listening to.
Timberlake is of course great, even if he
did steal all my dance steps. Stealing from a 248 pound dancer such as
I, has Timberlake got no shame? I'll hide my mirror, next time he'll
have to dance without his own reflection there to help and guide him.
You just watch him stumble, as if I tied his shoelaces together.
Seal
is dancing outside, can you hear him rapping on my front door. Snoop
has taken my dog for a walk, so Pink is making pancakes for us all, such
a nice girl, and a great pancake maker. As for Lionel Richie he is of
no use whatsoever, he just dances all over my ceiling. Adele is just
crying in the corner, she hasn't mastered how to switch on my washing
machine. When my Musical Heroes come around they could at least be
helpful. The Corrs just hang around on the corner outside, just making
rude gestures through my window, and I thought they were such nice
girls. Though they could just be gesturing how many cups of tea they
need, I really must get my eyes tested.
The Queen is
coming later on, or did they say May come later, I cannot keep up they
speak so fast. I told him the stars look so great from my garden, so May
said he'd come, he is an astrologer now, he has a PhD now in Aston
Villa, or Astro Turf, of Astrophysics or something with an astro in, or
was it Aston Martin, they earn so much money after all. Why don't they
all just take the bus. And look at the stars from the top deck of the
number 11.
Seal is singing that I'm his baby, and I'll
still be loved. That's so nice, he's such a caring man. But enough of
him, he's dancing in the corner with Theresa May. She is of course Brian
May's secret sister, they were split at birth you know. When Theresa
was dancing in Africa what she really was doing was pretending to be her
brother strumming on his guitar, that's why she didn't move much she
was afraid of falling over the invisible electrical cable. She could
have been in Queen too but she got lost on the way to the audition,
Geography was never her strong point.
So she became leader
of the Tories instead, she could have been in the Darkness instead with
the tight leotards and the high pitch singing. Instead she watches
Black Rod enviously, the way he twirls his stick would remind you of
dear old Freddie. It reminds her of Freddie Truman, the cricket legend,
Theresa's musical education does need a bit of help. Which reminds me
to the Commons' Disco. Frank has left the Field tonight to set up the
coconut shy, where you can throw white feathers at photos of various
politicians. Something to do with moral cowardice I believe.
But
what music will they play for Politicians? Stand By your Man, and Don't
Take your Love to Town are perennial favorites for Politicians. As is
The Politician by Cream. Abba's The Winner Takes it All is also a firm
Political favorite, along with The Windmills of your Mind, as nobody can
ever explain where the latest White Elephant came from. Too much time
spent in cheap bars, no not in sleazy parts, just in the Commons bars.
Seal
is still singing, he needs a bit of help so I'm going to give him a bit
of help now, then maybe he can fly like an eagle and avoid flying into
the sea. And speaking of sea, where do seagulls from the seaside go for
their holidays? BIRMINGHAM and we are the furthest spot from sea. Hang
on Totoro my cat has spotted a seagull she may just launch herself from
the garden fence.
I have to peel the potatoes for
tomorrow's dinner now, and I have to harvest the rice from our paddy
field outside, fresh food is a must for a Shanghai/Birmingham family.
Seal, can you stop the dad dancing and I'll show you some really cool
moves, so if ever you bump into Obama or Opera, the Double Os as they
call themselves, then you can show them both how to dance. Irish dancing
is the the only way to dance, I'll even lend you my old tights.
Hey
you Corrs come off that street corner and come on over, and bring
Shania too, we've got some jigging to do, the maybe Seal can finally
regain his street cred, and be good enough to dance with Theresa May at
the Commons Ball at Frank's Fields.
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