Up The Gary...

Me and the Missus are on holiday on the Geek island of Lemnos and are sat down eating dinner.

I say dinner but I really mean tea but because I am now an adopted cockney and have picked up the vernacular of their posher members dinner is now the evening meal and lunch is what in the north is dinner as in dinner ladies and dinner money.

But I digress. The Missus is eating and becoming quite vexed about Gary Glitter, a man she has a passing knowledge of after briefly kissing him while working at a gig venue in her native town of Aylesbury one Christmas.
‘He’s out soon and I reckon the British press are going to hunt him for all he’s worth. I think they’ll drive him to commit suicide…’
‘And you think that’s a bad thing?’
‘No. He’s a kiddy-fiddler and he deserves whatever he’s got coming, especially when he had the chance to serve his time and start a new life but decided to piss that opportunity away in Vietnam.’
‘I actually think you’ve missed out a few steps in the Glitter-to-top-himself process…’
‘How?’
‘Well for a start I think you’ve underestimated the sick nature of the British press… I reckon one of the tabloids will do a big exclusive interview where he claims he’s seen the error of his ways and all he wants is the chance to rebuild his life. They’ll run this then when he next fucks up as he inevitably will they’ll round on him then and use that interview as ammunition against him because they’ll pretend they were suckered in by him and wanted to give him an extra chance but now he’s betrayed them they’ll slaughter him good and proper. Hence the suicide…’
‘You think they’re really that depraved?’
‘Absolutely, but there’s more… As a reaction against the press all the Glitter fans will demand a re-release of one of his hits and they’ll buy it as a backlash against the sanctimonious press and ensure it’s No.1.’

The Missus looks at me like I’m an idiot.
‘I’ll bet you money…’
‘How much?
‘£50?’
‘Done…’

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