Oh joy of joys. Did you hear that that great homophobe/misogynist Mr Potato Head is making a comeback on radio? I know seems unlikely after t’Yerkshire gimp was kicked out of Radio 1 three years ago for calling a spade a gay shovel and failing to cut it as a stage actor (titter) or tv sleb. But now Xfm Radio has been re-launched as Blerks’ RadioX and 42 year old PH (or to give him his native American name, Dresses Like a Farmer, Eats Like a Pig) has been recruited to do his dj thang once again playing music and discussing topics with no appeal whatsoever to the ladeez. Like Vindaloo and Leeds Utd’s most admirable managers. Oh and they’ve recruited Chris Moyles too.
But even bigger news today was the unlikely announcement that a trio of grizzled middle-aged men from Glasgie have been tartanned up in a grim attempt to reform as the Bay City Rollers despite looking like they shipped more drugs, booze and groupies in an afternoon than Keith Richards, Keith Moon, Jimmy Page, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison managed in their lifetimes…
Why on earth would the now milk-drinking (ha!) trio of 60 year-olds want to start warbling Shang-a-Lang again after a bitter and litigation-strewn break of 40 years? Well I thought it might be a desperate last attempt to cash in any shred of their remaining dignity for the money. But lead singer Les McKeown pointed out how wrong I was… “You think we’re doing it for money but we’re doing it for the glory of Scotland and the glory of the tartan. Taking the Scottish name all around the globe. That’s what we’re doing it for – to see our fans again one more time.” Ah right. He added that they have promised “a very special Christmas present to all the fans that have kept the faith with the band over the years”. So touching and so genuine.
Wouldn’t it be great to see them top the charts again and, as Les stares into Cheryl’s eyes, perform those classic words on the X Factor finals night…
Should’ve told her that I can’t linger
There’s a wedding ring on my finger
She’s got me but I’m not free, so
Bye bye baby, baby guidbye
(Bye baby, baby bye bye)
Bye bye baby, don’t make me cry
Classic.
pp
Pasta Paulie 