one month passes...
three months pass...
A number of public and cultural figures have signed a letter in support of Jeremy Corbyn to be distributed to newspapers and media outlets. Boab is not one of the signatories. He is not best pleased.
*Coldplay ringtone. Brian Eno answers*
BRI: Hello, Eno speaking.
BOAB: Holl', it's me.
BRI: Me? Who's me?
BOAB: Boaby fuckin' Gillespie, that's who.
BRI (slight pause): Oh, Mr. Gillespie, to what do I owe the considerable pleasure?
BOAB: Here, never mind that shite, whit's the sketch wi' this letter?
BRI: Letter? Forgive me...
BOAB: The fuckin' letter supporting fuckin' Corbyn, don't get wide wi' me, baldy.
BRI (bristling): Right, what about the letter?
BOAB: How am ah no' oan it?
BRI: ... er, I...
BOAB: Ah mean, ah've no' even heard o' hauf o' the cunts who ur oan it...
BRI: ... well it's...
BOAB: Plus it's fuhll o' fuckin' Yanks - like that lanky cunt, Thurston Moore. Whose fuckin' band ur shite, by the way, ah mean where's aw his gold records? Oh aye, that's right, *voice rising to a pitch* he's no' fuckin' goat any! Let me ask ye this, big yin - were his band a key part of the mid-1980s indie pop scene, eventually moving away from their jangly sound, taking on more psychedelic and garage rock influences, before incorporating a dance music element to their sound with their 1991 album Screamadelica, which broke them into the mainstream? Ah, don't fuckin' think so, mate.
BRI: He does actually live in the UK these days.
BOAB: Aye, using oor NHS and livin' aff benefits fae ma tax money, ah'll fuckin' bet!
BRI: If you don't mind me saying that is a bit reactionary?
BOAB: Reactionary? I'll react oan you in a fuckin' minute and, while ah'm at it, whit the fuck ur you daein' oan it, ah thoat you were a fuckin' Lib Dem these days?
BRI (heavy sigh): Not this again. Nick Clegg...
*Boab blows a raspberry*
BRI (clearing throat): ... Nick Clegg hired me as an advisor on youth issues...
*sniggering from Boab*
BRI (firmly): ... on youth issues, but that's as far it went, I imagine he felt he needed someone who was more in touch with the concerns of young peop...
*sentence interrupted by a full minute of hysterical laughter from Boab*
BRI: ... if you've quite finished.
BOAB (wiping tears away): ... aw man ... ah'm sorry man but... noo ah've heard everyhin'! Fuckin' Brian fuckin' Eno 'hinks he can talk to the kids oan the street, how you gonnae dae that? Wi' a 90 minute album of a fuckin' tap runnin'? Ya fuckin' clown!
BRI: Right this phone call is going nowhere.
BOAB: Aye, and your fuckin' letter is goin' nowhere! Stick yer fuckin' feather boa up yer erse, ah preferred yer earlier funnier albums anyway! Bryan Ferry was better looking than you, he was a better dresser than you, he had more hair, he told funnier jokes, and he could dance the pants off of you!
BRI:.. OK, I'm hanging up now.
BOAB (still fulminating): ... with your cigars. With your brandy. And your rotten painting, rotten! Bryan Ferry, there was a painter. He could paint an entire apartment in one afternoon! Two coats!
*Boab's wife enters the room*
MRS BOAB: Robert, I've just had a nice phone conversation with an American chap called Thurston Moore, he's interested in maybe working with you.
BOAB (with childlike glee): Is he?!?!?! Here, that's smashing that! I've always liked that Sonic Youth. Wait tae ah tell the guys in the band!
*BOAB runs off almost skipping*
― 'Skills' Wallace (Tom D.), Sunday, 17 November 2019 13:38 (four years ago) link
one month passes...