“Young people everywhere have been allowed to choose between love and the garbage disposal unit. Everywhere they have chosen the garbage disposal unit”


Less ‘shining a light’, more lining up a shite.

The VO5 © NME ©, formerly the New Musical Express ©, once more than a music paper, formerly an organ of critical theorising, cultural contextual chat, a site of intellectual investigating, searing, thought-provoking criticism (remember that word?) that challenged, confounded and created consternation in the minds of the readership. The right to reply letters page would be inundated with erudite, intelligent and irate missives aghast at the whims and flights of fancy of the scribes. It meant something, more than something, it meant everything.

Although you’d need to be in your post-35s hinterzone to remember those days, nowadays it’s a FREE (life)style bible in a universe of FREE ALIVE-style bibles, 100% adverts for food, drink, sports, clothes, cosmetics, itself, its sister ownership-off-shoots, oh and not forgetting some music-merchants plying their wares in the name of INDIE*.  Zombie-groups (re)playing undead sounds featured in a carcass-coffin vessel of mundanity and irrelevance where if it features it means it’s graded between 3 to 5 stars. Ain’t the future-present-past-now brilliant?!

Mike Williams (Bald Ed. VO5 © NME ©): “Politicians and people with influential voices are being irresponsible with their words and changing the views of otherwise decent people. There’s a negative and demonised view of vulnerable people not that different from us who have been badly affected by wars and terror attacks. We want to show a bit of the reality.” (The Guardian 14/02/17) 

What you are about to read is an imagined re-enaction of a probable-fantasy group-think gang-meet of the VO5 © NME © crew sometime this year.

Venue: IPC H. (low I) Q.


M-Will: ‘Guyz, think All the President’s Men crossed with Press Gang, yeah?’

‘Hey guyz, right, how are we going to move forwards, bring in the sides this week, action some perpendicular para-sizing?

The Summer’s boxed off as we’ve got an exclusive with the … *gulps* the comeback of the back-comb King, none other than Liam Gallagher and news of his new exciting side(part)-project. But, more of that later …

Here’s my inbox think-noise to get things going: there’s a lotta talk politics-wise about immigrants, refugees and the displacement of human-people. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking ‘we’ve had Bangladesh in the 70s, the Band Aids, your War Childs, they didn’t work, what else can WE do?’ I get it, guyz, but, WE have to try, our livelihoods depend on it.

Now I don’t want to alarm too many of you, your basic-rate-wage-income-salary-coke-fund is safe for now, but, with sales falling dramatically we need to up our game and start bringing in more super-consumers. They just ain’t buying it. Tragedy = turnover, yeah?

How about we get on-board, in-bed with Bands 4 Refugees, some no-marks and super-skid-marks and umbrella them as a ‘super’ group, ya know, like those 1960s super-acts like Cream, Blind Faith, Traffic? Whaddyamean who, Tabotha-Anomie?? Erm, they were like an unprecedented, prototype ‘come-to-gathering’ of titans, a bit like Bland Aid IV. But, with super-integrity and super-super-talent.

Back to the ‘refu-bee-gee’ crisis (hur-hur see what I did there?) … to show our support for the aid agencies and charity-covens we’ve decided to help amass the cream of the current crop of super-exciting artistes. Sadly, the Dumfords, the Coldploys, the Adulls, the Paddingtons are busy with b®and-commitments (Brylcreem © and V05 © are direct competitors in the hair -rearrangement market). Even The Doc’s tied up, we tried in-vein. Vain! Lolz! Anyhow, I digress …

If we can’t cash in on the deceased then the next best thing is the soon-to-be, framed and presented by the dead behind the eyes.

We gots (and no, no word of a lie this isn’t a roll-call for the Brit Young-C*nti of the Year 2016):

Poxie Geldoff-spring of the dishevelled, bedevilled money-mitherer and monarchy-monkey Sir ‘give me your money and I will save it … err … THEM’ Bog Off-Gold. Her ‘deeply upset’ fizzog’s sure to get some sister rag-mags on-board and also mask the true motives of this super-project. Plus, the one-time Boom-Rat-catcher needs to keep what’s left of his off-seeds on the straight and narrow and off the ‘wheel and barrow’**. A two-way beneficial street for us.

Here’s a glimpse of the seismic meet-up of the global-givers: 


Two bit Peace***-artists (and co-organiser) Henry ‘Harry’ Koisser and his frat-kin Sammy, super-keen to change things across the universe with Dumb and Som, the ensemble’s rhythm sectch.

Henry Harry’s ‘sent a LOT of texts and emails and Whatspps to as many people as he can think of … Joe from Circa Waves**** was a last minute addition, he called him about three days ago about it …’

Slave brain-salve, Isaac Drumbo, he copes by handing lollipops out, not sure what Freud would make of that.

Soft Olly off of Years & Years, the voice to sink a thousand drinks (of Rat-Kyll), his inbuilt auto autocue still 5 seconds behind human-meantime. Extreme patience is required when engaging.

Also totes immersed in this spiritually-nourishing, bank-balance incrementing project are:

Ellie, Jonty, Nige-One, Izzy, Auzzie, Chazzy, Rupert, Dessica, Shim Zlady, Hugo and Skank.

They’ve wracked their brain cell (all that private education too) and hit on the emotion-notion that The Stones’ seminal classic ‘Gimme Shelter’ is the note-perfect anthem to articulate the forced diaspora we see on our shores. A song about social unrest and destruction is still an an-them for THEM, THEM that are bereft, THEM without a roof, THEM devoid of a coffee-to-go, THEM without the latest Iapp, they deserve our pity and love and above all our TIME. Time don’t cost us, man, it cost THEM lives.

Here’s the super-main event from the VO5 © NME © Awards ©. Now tell me you don’t FEEL anything?! #shiversupthespine 


NM-er Sub-Ed Torquine St. John: ‘Mike, please, me ‘ead’s bangin’ I went to the Cereal Café’s Annually Awards’ Aftershow last night, three Grot-brews necked, a snort of Vimphetz and now these Anadin simply aren’t cutting it’.

Cue further nose-picking, cranium-scratching and tech-tickling from these ‘dip (shit) young dung slingers’.



Now I don’t know about YOU, but, I’ve got a few bones to pick through here.

Take ‘Choose Love’ as the message, a lazy play on that 80s anti-mammon-mantra as adorned by George and Andy Wham, from subversive to recursive (again …), a depressing sign of the times (then and now). Choosing love? As opposed to what? ‘Hate is Gr8’, ‘Opt into opprobrium’?

This counter-intuitive marketing horseshit is designed purely to sell the sponsors’ consumables, the magazine’s vacant ideals, the ‘artists’ (sic) product and career-extensions.

Re: the chosen-chanson, why not go for ‘Welcome to the jungle’? Too raw and too edgy? ‘Wherever I lay my hat’? C’mon guyz, you need to get your super-thinking caps on, yeah?

‘Gimme Shelter’s been watered down that many times any trace of veracity and potency has long been pissed into the drink-streams of Gen Britta © ,

No wonder the Stones agreed, this version will make any self-respecting person go straight to the original, throwing more coppers into the coffers of these coffin-dodgers. The wheel keeps turning.

‘It’s important not to be like Bono’

Having a go at Bono, I mean it’s nigh on impossible not to hit the target with the fella, but, these gimps manage to do it, with a Gatling gun to boot. Thing is, as hypocritical and odious as the leprechaun can be he’s still produced infinitely better music than any of these parasitic narcissists can ever dream of.

Ultimately the end product makes Bowie and Jagger’s prescient Stella Street rendition of ‘Dancing in the Street’ seem as transgressive as 1930s Berlin.

They say every generation gets the cultural totems it deserves, Generation Zed’s supping from a puddle of shite.

‘Member, text WE F.U. NOW

Guy Debored 2017 ©

*floating, meaning-free noun with 20th century roots in an archaic form of independence and innovation. Now a bland uniform of conformist sounds and styles.

**Narc reference first used by William ‘Bugsy’ Burroughs in 1951

*** I know, this generation’s Matt Bianco.

**** Beats me, I’m-a gerrin’ sub-Kaiser Chiefs vibes meself.


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