The boy sneered and threw chips at me last night during tea. My crime? I merely asked whether 50 Cents, a popular American singer among young folk who like rap music, was really going to the candy shop in his latest song and, if so, why didn’t he order some sweets we’d heard of in the country to help his CD’s UK sales.
For example:
‘I’m going to the candy shop.
Uh-uh. I’m gonna get me some midget gems.
Uh-uh. And some Maltesers too.
Uh-uh. And strawberry bon-bons’d be nice.
Uh-uh. Because I want bright pink pooh.’
After removing the vinegar-covered missiles from my person and being told I was an idiot, I retired upstairs to do some work on my latest stage play and listen to the footy.
The stage play is called Trust and it tells the story of a councillor in a small northern town whose life-long dream is to stand as the local MP. But this dream is threatened when a new candidate is parachuted in by the Party – and when a scandal surrounding a crooked business deal and a recently deceased councillor threatens to become public knowledge.
It’s about real politics versus realpolitik, about the difference between the old school politician of conviction and principle (Benn, Kinnock, Heseltine, Tebbit, Thatcher) and the new breed of career politician (take your pick from all the faceless wonders representing seats they have no connection to) who want power without necessarily having politician convictions or the local power base to get it.
Writing this is proving to be slow work as I’ve yet to get a real handle on it even though it’s plotted out and I quite like the characters.
I did have another top idea for Chunky Shaft, though. In one episode he’s going to run a talent contest a bit like Fame Academy for would-be porn stars. His new show will be entitled Bone Idols.
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