Saturday, 7 March 2009

Virgin! Virgin! Virgin!

People who don’t like The Young Ones are instantly suspect. The only reason that you could not like The Young Ones is because, instead of blood, you have the screams of the damned flowing through your veins due to you being the thrown away child of The Prince of Darkness and Sonia.

Dave showed some episodes last night and, even now, it just seems like nothing else. Every line is either hilarious or just baffling. Every scene is inventive and then immediately, brilliantly stupid. It’s a sit-com that in 1982 wanted to destroy the sit-com. Just to prove it, in the very first episode the sit of the sit-com gets demolished. While watching it last night I just couldn’t get over how fresh, energetic and funny it was. Even the shit joke about the TV Times (I never knew there was so much in it) made me laugh. I first saw it when I was 13 and to me it was the newest of the new. It came from nowhere. All I knew was that I wanted to be exactly like those four twats. And why wouldn’t I? They were four grown men pretending to be in a cartoon. Brilliant.

Sadly, or perhaps excitingly, The Young Ones got banned in my house after episode three. Apparently my parents didn’t really like me calling everyone they knew a complete and utter bastard all the time. They are so reactionary! They certainly hated it when I wrote “VERY METAL” on the back of the jacket I wore at my confirmation.

Barely a day went by in 1982-83 when I didn’t quote The Young Ones. If the phone rang in my house I immediately shouted “Answer the phone, Neil”. If someone in my family had the slightest bit of good news I would congratulate them with a really sarcastic “Far out. Really great. Woooo-ooodstock”. One time, I bumped into my mum in the street. She was delighted to see me but all I could say was “Oh, no. I’m being hassled in the street by a chick”. Basically, this incredible piece of art turned me into a bollock. I thank it for that.

I guess the only really heartbreaking thing about The Young Ones is Ben Elton. This is how high he reached. He MADE THE YOUNG ONES. This is how funny he can be and yet he has chosen this other horrible path of greed to walk down. His fucking books and his fucking Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals and his fucking, fucking, FUCKING Thin Blue Line. How could he do it? The massive cunt. Him going from The Young Ones to We Will Rock You is like Sir Edmund Hillary going from conquering Everest to killing babies with his cock. IT’S EXACTLY THE SAME.

If you haven’t seen The Young Ones before, and I’m so jealous of you if you haven’t because you have something incredible to enjoy, then watch it today. Nothing you have planned for today is as good or as important as watching The Young Ones. That funeral will still happen whether you’re there or not. Speaking of funerals, when I moved to London in 1989 one of the first people I met was Pete Wear. He played the part of the Witchfinder in Flood. He said “No. No. In the pit” a lot. I know him. In REAL LIFE. How exciting is that?

By the way, Happy Birthday to Susan Murray.

The last few days have been both busy and lazy at the same time. I think Johnny and I have given up even trying to write King of Everything and instead we’re going to go on stage tomorrow night with practically nothing. Should be interesting. Car crashes are interesting, right? Still, something funny happened to me and Johnny the other day. Well, it happened to Johnny but it was my fault. Johnny needed Steve Best’s phone number. Unfortunately, I got Steve Best mixed up with Steve Day, a comedian who is both very funny and deaf. I gave Johnny Steve Day’s number and watched him call Steve. I laughed and asked Johnny what he was doing? Steve’s deaf. He’s not likely to answer the phone. Good point, thought Johnny. Oh, well. Johnny will just see him at the gig and ask him for a lift back to London then. Unfortunately, by this time Johnny had also confused Steve Best with Steve Day so when he finally saw Steve Best later he made eye contact with him and slowly said “HELLO. STEVE. HOW. ARE. YOU?” Steve just assumed Johnny was having a nervous breakdown.

Please come to King of Everything at the Hen & Chickens this Sunday at 9.30. Don’t let me down. Cancel all your plans. It’s only a fucking fiver. Have I ever asked you for money for all my blogs that I just GIVE you? NO. Call 020 7704 2001 right this second and book your ticket. It’s cheap, it only lasts half an hour and it will be mental. Don’t throw away this chance to see us. Each gig could and should be our last.

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