Sunday, 14 September 2014

I'm a case study, and a grumpy old man


On being...a case study

I found out by accident. I went into the ensuite and there it was, by the wicker-basket loo-roll dump and my copies of Sh*t My Dad Says and the Hoggy autobiography, not even hidden:

Grumpy Old Men – A User's Guide (or something like that)

She reading up on me.

Superficially, I can't object. I'm a bloke...I'm old...and I have been known to have the odd, very occasional, moan.

I tend to see myself as enthusiastic rather then grumpy, in general, so...another illusion shattered and ground into the dust, I guess.

I flicked through some of the quotes. Rik Wakeman (how does a bloke with extra-long blond hair, fond of dressing like Merlin, who plays seven keyboards at the same time, grow into a grumpy old git, exactly?) said: “The band call me Victor Mildrew, the kids call me Victor Mildrew, and when my hair finally falls out, no doubt I'll even look like Victor Mildrew”. Albeit Victor Mildrew dressed a Merlin playing numerous simultaneous keyboards.

Michael Grade said, in a very sweary way I quite admired, that there's no such thing as plug and play electronic devices. I think he's wrong on the percentages, because, generally, I'm pleasantly surprised when, on sticking a new USB connector up the netbook's arse, whatever flavour of Linux it's running goes: “yeah, no probs, seeing that fine...wait just one moment...yeah...driver ...interface...okay, bub, we're nearly there...cool, up and running, kiddo”. But he's right on the level and length of the frustration when that doesn't happen:

From the kitchen: “are you okay, dear?”

“Yeah, just sorting out the [INSERT NAME OF NEW TECHNO-KIT HERE].”

“But it's been two days now...”

“...[gritted teeth] I know, I know...”

Arthur Smith was a bit defeatist: “it starts the minute you go out of the door...”

Jeremy Hardy was spot on about the anticipation of comfort food being better than the (boring, stodgy) reality...unless it involves bacon, sausages, eggs and beans (I think he omitted the sausages).

Best of all was Bill Nighy, on celebrity, which is something guaranteed to set me off on one (what, exactly, is it that Ant and Dec do? Let alone do (apparently) so well? Let alone get awards for doing so well?).

This is where the enthusiasm comes in, though. I'm typing this with the earth-shatteringly amazing first Clash album thundering away in the headphones ('Protex Blue's just finished... “JOHNNY, JOHNNY!!!”, which means next up is 'Police and Thieves' with those left-ear / right-ear chopping guitars, that ahead-of-the-times sparse production, that thumping, thrumping, thrumming bassline, that wonderful long workout cover version of that wonderful song) with shit this good out there, why're so many wasting so much time on rubbish that's just so, so, so very, very bad?

Nighy said that with so much 24/7 multi-channel media, there's a need for manufactured celebrity, coming off a conveyor belt that lacks decent raw materials. He's spot on. There's too many breakfast time sofas to fill. There's too many Cowels, Ants, Decs and Semi-celebs doing dancing. Too little force-feeding of the first Clash album.

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