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...
Boaby has been called to a meeting with with a film producer at his manager's office. He is somewhat late.
Producer: Is he actually going to show, he's nearly an hour late as it is.
Manager: I did warn you not to organize anything before 2pm, he'll just be getting out of his bed, he thinks he's a rock sta....
Ostentatious series of knocks at the door.
Manager: ... that'll be him, come in!
Boab breezes in.
Boaby: Morning, chaps!
Producer: Afternoon.
Boaby: Aye, whatever. So whit's the fuckin' sketch?
Manager (to Producer): Shall I? (to Boaby)What it is, Bobby, is we've had an offer for you to provide a onscreen commentary for a DVD of a movie...
Boaby (interrupting excitedly): Ya dancin' bear!
Manager: ... of a movie in which ...
Boaby: Let me fuckin' guess. It's "Vanishing Point" intit? (to Producer) Did you know we hud an album named efter that film? Aye, ah course ye dae! Huv ye seen it, by the way, it's fuckin' awesome, Randy Newman is fuckin' great in it...
Manager: ... if I may continue, Bobby?
Boaby: Oh right, aye, fire away, ah'm aw ears.
Manager: The movie in question heavily features the Scream's music...
Boaby (interrupting again): ... here, it's no' Tarantino is it? That fuckin' shite he did aboot Manson? Ah've no' seen it masel yet but ah'll be sure tae check it oot when it's next oan at the pictures...
Producer: That was set in 1969.
Boaby: ... and your point is, caller?
Producer: Excuse me?
Boaby (same intonation): And your point is, caller?
Producer stares blankly.
Boaby: ... ye know, like Jimmy Sanderson? (high pitched Glaswegian voice) "Were you at the game?"
Producer continues staring blankly.
Boaby (to Manager, out of side of mouth): Jesus, where did ye dredge this wan up?
Manager: Er, if I may, I think the point is it was it was set in 1969 so Tarantino used music from that era on the soundtrack.
Boaby: Aye, well that makes sense, ah suppose. We can sound like we're from 1969 if ye wahnt though, we've done it afore.
Manager: I know Bobby but we're... look we're getting off track here.
Boaby: Aye, ah'm sorry but ah'm jist so fuckin' made up, man! Me daein' the commentary fur a Hollywood movie!
Producer: It's not exactly a Hollywood movie.
Boaby: Aye, well, cult classic then, nae cunt went tae see "Electra Glide in Blue" either when it came oot, know what ah'm sayin'?
Producer: It's not a cult film either, it's been very successful at the box office.
Boaby: Is that right, big yin? Well ah'm the very boey fur the joab then!
Manager: The film in question, Bobby, is "Shaun the Sheep: The Movie".
Boaby's face hardens.
Boaby: Shaun the Fuckin' Sheep?
Producer: No, Shaun the Sheep.
Boaby: That's whit ah said, Shaun the Fuckin' Sheep.
Manager: We think that...
Boaby: Here, haud oan a minute, d'ye think ah wis born yisterday?
Producer: I've seen your publicity shots, so no.
Boaby: Oh ha-fuckin'-ha, ya f-
Manager (rapidly interrupting): If I can stop you right there, Bobby, we think a commentary track on this DVD will help introduce the Scream to a new audience...
Boaby: ... aye, a fuckin' audience o' 6 year aulds!
Manager: ... 6 year olds and their parents.
Boaby (cautiously): Ah'm listenin'.
Producer: There's a demographic of adults in the 30 to 40 year old bracket who will have become acquainted with the music of your group for the first time as a result of viewing "Shaun the Sheep: The Movie".
Boaby: Aye, ah see where ye're comin' fae, big yin. Go for an audience that's a wee bit aulder than we normally attract.
Manager: Older? Bobby, I've been at your concerts, the audience is almost as old as yyyyyyyou'd be surprised at the age of your audience.
Boaby: Aye, probably. Tae be frank wi' ye, ah've goat nae idea whit age the audience is at oor gigs, ah cannae fuckin' see the cunts, ah'm that oot ma nut maist nights! (nudging Producer who inches away)
Manager: That and you refuse to wear your glasses in public.
Boaby (Shaun the sheepishly): Aye, there's that an' aw.
Producer: Anyway, there is one proviso.
Boaby: Holl', me no speaka de Italian, can ah huv that in fuckin' English, mate?
Producer: One stipulation...
Boab looks puzzled.
Manager (to Producer) Here, let me... (to Boaby) The producers would love for you to do this commentary but... no swearing.
Boaby: Whit? Whit d'ye mean, nae fuckin' swearin'?
Producer: Well, the DVD is aimed at children and their parents.
Boaby: And?
Producer: And, as you have amply proved this afternoon, your language can be on the colourful side.
Boaby: That's fuckin' freedom of expression, pal, ah cannae be held tae society's rules, take me or leave me.
Producer: Well, all things considered I think we might le...
Manager (interrupting): ... I think what we're trying to say is that we want the pure unadulterated Bobby Gillespie....
A serious looking Boab nods furiously.
Manager: ... but with maybe a little moderation in the language.
Boaby: Moderation? Moderation? Ah cannae even spell moderation!
Producer: Now that I can believe.
Boaby: Don't get me wrang, ah'd love tae dae some'hin' like a fuckin' DVD commentary, in fact ah've goat an idea tae dae a track by track commentary oan oor 2013 album, "Mair Light", ye heard it, big yin?
Producer: Me? No, can't say I have. Was it a hit?
Manager: Hmmmmmmm.
Boaby: The thing is, ah'm fae Glesga, whit the fuck dae ah know aboot sheep? Ye'd be better aff gettin' some Teuchter tae dae it or, better still, some Welsh cunt - here, that's an idea!
Producer (checking watch): What is?
Boaby: Ah could gie ye yon Nicky Wire's phone number - they'd be gled o' the work, (sotto voce) huv ye heard their last album? (pinches nose).
Manager: Bobby, if we could get back to the...
Producer (looking desperately for an out): ... no no no, this Nicky, er...
Boaby: ... Wire...
Producer: This Nicky Wire sounds like she...
Boaby: ... he...
Producer: He could be what we're looking for...
Manager: ... but ...
Producer: Guys, I really have to go, I've got another meeting way across town...
Manager: ... but we haven't...
Producer (rising from chair): I'd love to stay a bit longer but time...
Boaby (who has been ineptly scrolling through his phone all this time): But ah've no found Nicky Wire's number fur ye yet.
Producer (now at door): Just, er, get in touch with my PR when you, er, find it...
Manager: ... but we never even...
Producer: Later.
Boaby (cheerily): Don't call us, we'll call...
Door slams.
Boaby: ... you.
As the Producer stands pressed against the door, breathing heavily, we can hear Boaby's voice in the background.
Boaby (muffled): Huv ye seen "Electra Glide in Blue"? It's aboot this wee cunt who's a polis, a motorbike polis mind ye, and he's played by William Blake...
― Frozen Mug (Tom D.), Monday, 13 January 2020 19:15 (four years ago) link