Rubbish, piffle, tommyrot, drivel and utter bilge

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Celebrity Pillow Fight

Laura challenged me today to write a poem about the band Status Quo having a pillow fight (random!!), so here goes:

I'll tell you a story you probably don't know
About a band of rockers, The Status Quo.
They've made loads of records and played lots of shows
Lived like true rockstars and travelled the globe
They've trashed some hotel rooms too, these fab four
And done other celebrity stuff, to be sure.
But I have this story, so let me begin
As I tell you the tale of the Premier Inn.

Now The Quo may be fond of livin' the dream
But they're fun-loving guys at heart, so it seems.
And one thing they love just for blowing off steam
Is a pillow fight followed by bowls of ice cream.

And whenever they find themselves out on the road
In late December when it seems it might snow
Is to book themselves into a Premier Inn
And get extra pillows, and lock themselves in.

Well, after a while, they began to get bored
With fighting each other up on the top floor
And so they decided to invite other bands
And assorted celebs, to give them a hand.

They've fought against Rush and Madness and Dio
And even Duran Duran, famous for 'Rio'.
Warrant, The Wombles, Def Leppard and Dokken
and other great groups that you may have forgotten.
But I think the most memorable fight of them all
Was the night that they fought against Cannon and Ball.

It was Christmas Eve '87, with snow on the ground
That the Cannon-Ball-Quo pillow fight went down.
They were stuck in St Helens off the M62
In a Premier Inn, with nothing to do.

Rick Parfitt stood up and he said, "We need ice!
I'll pop down to the machine and be back in a trice."
Well what to his wondering eyes should appear
By the ice machine? Bobby Ball, nursing a beer.

"Eh up!" Bobby cried. "It's you, innit mate?
You're in Status Quo! Well, I think you're great!
Just wait till I tell my mate Tommy you're here!
Come over to our room, we've got loads of beer!"

Well Rick's mind started racing. He said in a flash,
"Do you guys have more pillows? We'll fight you, for cash!
Just for a bit of fun, mind. Nothing funny."
Bobby's eyes widened."Pillow fightin' fer money?
Aye, we'll do that, Rick. We do it all t' time.
When we're out on t'road, it 'elps clear t'mind."

So Rick raced back to the group's hotel suite,
and he shared the good news. They leapt to their feet
And they grabbed all their pillows and ran down the hall
To begin their great battle with Cannon and Ball.

The first blow came from Frank Rossi himself
And it sent Tommy's dentures flying up onto the shelf.
Tommy returned fire with a Memory Foam shot
And Francis' ponytail came loose from its knot.

Andy Bown let fly with his Dunelm Mill weapon
And Bobby hit the wall, saying "How did that 'appen?"
Meanwhile John Edwards deflected a blow
From Tommy "The Cannon" Cannon's Tempur Pillow.

The fight it raged on until quarter to four
When the guys, quite exhausted, lay down on the floor
And they talked and drank till the sun came up
Then slept until noon, and then got back up.

They stood up and looked at the walls and the ground
With feathers and fragments of pillow all round
Then Bobby said, "Eh up! It's Christmas Day, ya know!
Let's go 'ave some dinner next door! Let's go!"

The place next door was a Beefeater joint
They served lots of meat there (that was the point!)
They sat themselves down to a slap-up feast
Did the Quo mind paying? No, not in the least.

They were eating and drinking and talking till four
When suddenly somebody opened the door.
It was guitar gods Ritchie Blackmore and Tony Iommi
Ball looked at Cannon and yelled "Rock on Tommy!"

The band called them over to join in their lunch
They fit right in with this pillow-fight bunch
Then they went to the studio and jammed until dawn
Then went out for ice cream and toffee popcorn.
And that was the end of this Christmastime tale
Pure rock & roll (though no-one wound up in jail)
All agreed it was surely the best Christmas ever
Though all their noses contained at least one feather
And they said that they wished they could do it again
Tommy, Bobby, Ritch, Tone, and those Status Quo men.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Unbelievables: Let it Snow? No, no, no!

The Unbelievables: Let it Snow? No, no, no!: I appreciate Michael giving me credit for being the "fashion maven" of The Unbelievables. Considering how much we've always relied on style ...

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Writer's, Um... What's That Thing Called?

I am quite sure that other aspiring writers such as myself have come up against certain stumbling blocks. There will always be things that prevent you from writing. There will always be writer's block, creative logjams, and the like. There will always be missed opportunities, ideas that fell by the wayside, and procrastination. There will forever be time misused and wasted. There will be mornings where you just cannot, however hard you try, find the time to write down what it is you are trying to say. There will always be moments in life where you cannot find a quiet place to sit and think and organise you thoughts.

What there will not always be, thankfully, is times when you are surrounded by two warring siblings, a screaming baby, and a British Telecom call-center operator in India who cannot understand the basics of English, when all you can think is oh for a baseball bat, a live grenade, a stiff G&T and four pairs of hands. Oh, for the ability to clone myself so that I may placate everyone. Oh why oh why oh why oh why...  and I am glad that this is so. Because things do sometimes work out the way you want them to. BT sometimes comes out and fixes the phone. Sometimes the words flow. Sometimes there are quiet spaces in life. Sometimes you remember to jot down that idea, sit and actually write instead of farting around on Angry Birds all morning. Sometimes you know instinctively know what it is that you want to say.

Nothing is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. Children grow up and get married and leave. Then they have kids. And then the kids bug them. And then they bring the kids over to you, the grandparents, to babysit. And then those kids fight.

OK, forget what I said.
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