Faggots And Sluts

There's too much going on to enable me to cycle at all this week, for a start I'm off to Sewage Central again tonight. So it's a good job I did four cycles last week. At least going to work in the car, gets me a lie-in and a bit of 'sport'.

The whole country appears to be enraged that Radio 1, the supposed station of the young, has censored 'Fairytale of New York' by removing the words 'faggot' and 'slut' from it. They are the only station who have, even Radio 2 are playing it uncut. The odd thing is, that when the record was originally released twenty years ago it was the word 'arse' that caused offence and they had to omit that when they played it live on Top Of The Pops but in those days 'faggot' and 'slut' were considered fine. What a progressive society we have.

Now if they wanted to remove any words from the song it should have been the whole of Ronan Keating's cover version of it, now that really was offensive. For anyone like me, who's really into their music, nothing riles you more than a bad cover version. Usually an excuse for laziness, in this lazy age of ours, they show a complete lack of imagination, talent, and inspiration but then they're just after your money. They usually don't even admit that the songs a cover, so anyone who was born after the original was out thinks it's original.

Later in the day Radio 1 back down and reinstate the original version. They probably set Shane MacGowan on them.



One I get home, I eat and kick the dog at the same time. So if L decides to take him out on a run he should be fairly edgeless. I contemplate collecting L from the gym in the car, just so that I can see her before our long and painful period apart but in the end she get home in plenty of time.

She straight away prostrates herself on the bed. I can't argue with that. She obviously doesn't intend me to feel the need to stray any further than Stella tonight.

We have a good drive down to Maidstone, that is until we are within a mile or so from the hotel. Just as we can smell the beer we hit a queue on the M20. They have closed two junctions for no apparent reason. Scandalous.

After a half-an-hour delay we get there and I head straight off to meet Stella in the bar. We settle in to watch the drunken teachers stagger out of their Christmas party that's going on next door. I avoid Stella and hit the Boddingtons again and also have a rather large Isle Of Jura. Very nice.

My MD hasn’t eaten but there's no food in the bar, not even crisps or peanuts. So the hotel orders us a takeaway pizza which we eat in reception. Cool, or not.