Bloggers past a certain age worship different cultural icons. They run the gamut from Sigur Ros to Jimmy Clitheroe. I've sampled both in the past 24 hours, trying to discover which side of the cultural fence I should be sitting. I've liked the Ros's for well over a year and a half, but what about Jimmy? Am I missing something?
I've had enough of comedians impersonating teenagers with crap catchphrases; "bovvered?" and "Yeah but no but" spring to mind. But that's just crap, not disturbing.
Disturbing is where you get adults acting as children. A regular nightmare of mine is the image of Colin Welland and Michael Elphick in shorts in Blue Remembered Hills. Then there's Terry Scott, Jeanette Krankie...And the original Clitheroe Kid.
We've started to utilise our telly to record the radio. Five hours of Edwin Drood this week...no, of course we fucking won't. No time, mate.
There's the John Lennon interview on Radio 4, 15 minute Oscar Wilde and DH Lawrence short stories on BBC7...ooh, I'm feeling all Christmassy already.
And there he is, slap bang in the middle of the BBC7 schedules, The Clitheroe Kid.
So, for some of you bloggers out there who may not be old enough, and for those of you old enough but whose memories are shot due to a lifetime of overindulgence in drink, drugs and wild wild women/men, here's a sample of the dialogue from The Clitheroe Kid:-
Have you put your conkers in my drawers again, Jimmy?
It weren't me, Mam. It were Grandad.
You lying little fooker.
Fook off, Mam.
No, you fook off, Jimmy.
No, you fook off, Mam.
Grandad! He's telling me to fook off! And he said you put conkers in my drawers!
I'll tan the little fooker's hide.
No you won't, Grandad. You fooking old twat.
So get out those protractors, get out those compasses, get out those slide rules. For...
The Clitheroe Kid is strong and tough,
And only the worst is good enough,
The sauciest words,
The most insults,
The evil that's in Clitheroe.