Who Killed Liddle & Queues at the Pumps!!!!

Many Moons ago, mis amigos, when yir SToNedHolYBLogGEr wiz a plooky n sexually inexperienced young buck, newly discharged upon the seemingly limitless Savannah that would be the 1980's n Margaret Thatcher's era of Blue-Rinsed Xenophobia & Little England Politics , ma Not-Quite-Stoned-N-Holy-Young-Mind wiz filled with REVOLUTION!!

Though rightly divining the Spirit of the Age to be one of Sheer Greed & Utter Vacuousness I do feel though, that in cleaving all the more to our pimpled notions of Anarchy & a Brave New World as a reaction to that, we, the little Band of Bubblegum Revolutionaries I was one of, somehow conspired to cut off our own noses to spite our faces! Being Punk Rock Zealots, we eschewed the outlandish fashion excesses & tastes of our generation and retreated instead into Revolutionary austerity. As the 80's dressed up we deliberately dressed doon. Yi get the picture ahm sure - We woz driving the wrong way up a one way street! We were a Revolutionary, if not Evolutionary Dead-End!!

But ahm no here tae gibber aboot the folly of Youth. Ahm no here tae tell yiz aw oot there in Cyberspace that instead of reading the Communist Manifesto n dreaming aboot Spectres Haunting Europe we shoulda been dancing tae Duran-Duran n shagging girls with back-combed hair n shoulder pads! Ahm no here tae say that since everybody else was goin' out n havin' fun we woz a right bunch o eejits for stayin' in n havin' NONE!! Ahm no here tae be lookin back n thinkin ah coulda been doin' something more constructive n useful, in regards to ensuring a certain amount of comfort and security in middle age, than pogoing around bedrooms tae 'Who Killed Liddle Towers' by The Angelic Upstarts.........then again, maybeez it is that I am!!

If only I had had the intelligence tae realise that by 2012, the only thing that could rouse the British Lumpen-Proletariat tae anything remotely approaching mass collective action would be the threat of there bein' nae f******g petrol in the pumps when they rolled up to refill their little metal box on rubber wheels with the personalised number plate they paid two grand for on the way to get their darling pooch pampered at the Doggy Boutique!!!!! N how the fuck are yi supposed tae get tae the tanning studio or get yir nails glued on if yi dinnae huvva car?!?!.....or get tae the Chipper for a Kebab Supper?!....or go out Dogging?! Do these Greedy Bastard Tanker Drivers not realise that we need tae get tae JB Sports tae buy another pair of trainers n a pink velour tracksuit for her-indoors?!?!....

N tae think Ah frittered away ma youth dreamin' aboot REVOLUTION!!!!!!!!!Ah dinnae ken whether Jesus wept or no'....but ahm as mad as hell n ahm no' gonna take it anymore.....(well, that last bit's not actually correct, cos I am gonna take it - I've no choice but to take it. So I'm gonna take it exactly like I've always taken it.....Squarely on the Stoned Holy Chin? No! Profoundly, up the StonedHoly Arse!!!!....OUCH!) Ach man, if yi didnae laugh yid huftae cry!!!

See yiz aw soon Pop-Pickers - Over N Oot.