Showing posts with label Rupert Murdoch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rupert Murdoch. Show all posts
Friday, 5 December 2014
An Open Letter To Russell Brand Which He'll Never Read But Makes MeFeel Better For Writing It
Dear Russell,
I'm sorry for every joke I've made about you. I'm sorry for mocking the way you write, though, I confess, I still find it frustrating that people treat your prose as though it were penned by the mighty Orwell himself. I might not be a fan of your stand-up but I've not seen enough of it to judge. There are also many stand-up comedians I dislike and very few I genuinely admire. You still do things which make me grimace but that's because you're an extrovert and I'm an introvert. I don't wear my hair long or adorn myself with bangles or open my shirt to my hairy navel. I don't wear tight leather pants and I generally distrust men that do. I mean: don't you get hot down there? I know you will still annoy me every time you punctuate a sentence with the word 'mate'. Not everybody might want (or even deserve) to be your mate but I'm sure I'll learn to live with it as I'm sure you've learned to live with your extremely sweaty orbs. You also support West Ham but even this is forgivable.
So even if you still represent so much that I dislike about the modern world, I must now take a step back and say: here is a man whose heart is in the right place. You are picking the right enemies and the right enemies are now picking on you. If I ever thought you were doing this out of a misguided sense of seeking the limelight, then this proves otherwise. No sane man takes on the British media simply to further their career. You've made powerful enemies who are now intent on destroying you. Maybe they won't destroy you tomorrow or the day after but they have long memories. When fame's light diminishes and you enter the shadowy world of minor celebrity, I worry that they will return and their bite will be sharp.
I hope that never happens because I find myself warming to you. What you did for the people of the New Era housing estate in East London were the actions of a good man. People might question your motives but motives are an impossible thing to establish. There is no easy way to make a window into a man's soul. There isn't even an app for that. We can only judge each other based on our actions and the results of those actions. Your actions have highlighted a situation which is nothing less than an Anglo-American disgrace. Yes, even a bigger Anglo-American disgrace than your remake of 'Arthur', for which I'm now forced to forgive you. You are right to question the motives of Channel 4 who twisted the debate by asking dumb bitter questions when they should have been aiming their barbs at the people making self-serving decisions. When are The Sun going to devote their front page to the two Tory MPs, Christopher Chope and Philip Davies, who filibustered during the Commons debate and thereby blocked the bill that would have stopped stop landlords evicting tenants at will? Isn't it more important for the country to know that these MPs were also landlords and that they abused their positions to further their own interests?
So, there you have it. My apology in less than 700 words or the length of one of your shorter sentences. You gave me good reason to mock you before but now you give me equal cause to lavish you with praise. Each day, you are rising in my estimation. At the moment, I'd say you're on the same level as Janet Street Porter. That's not a bad place to be. I like Janet Street Porter, though every time she speaks she risks a rapid slide. Keep up the good fight. Don't let the bastards grind you down. One day, you might rise so far in my estimation that you're beside Christopher Hitchens or even George Orwell himself. On that day, I'd be very honoured if you'd call me 'mate'.
Sincerely Yours,
Etc. etc. etc.
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
The Bus Seat

Woke up monumentally uninspired to write anything this morning. I blame Roy Hodgson. He has to be the luckiest football manager ever to take the England job. He sets out to play a dull but compact football, gets on the right end of a few bad decisions by officials and a few lucky breaks, and he ends up winning the bloody group. All of which makes my Euro 2012 animation seem out of date. Needless to say, I think we'll get thumped by the Italians but, then, what do I know?
If that’s not bad enough, I wake up to read that Jimmy Carr thinks that he’s done nothing wrong and that he is now being victimised by the Murdochs. Christ riding a moped! As Frankie Boyle has correctly pointed out: it makes it hard for a comedian to criticise the conditions of the country he lives in when it’s partly his fault.
Urgh... Now I hear that Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis have separated. I've always liked Depp. He likes the things I like and this just makes me sad.
That's the final straw. I'm heading into Manchester to buy myself a new sketch book, my current one now down to the last page...
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