Entertainment For Lively Minds
Wasps In Paradise: All Aboard The Fuckwit Charabanc
I went to see my favourite bearded hombre lobo at Brixton Academy last night.
It was a great show, with E in a distinctly perky mood, even playing air guitar on a maraca at one point. My considered opinion is that new songs Baby Loves Me, This Is Where It Gets Good, Oh So Lovely, Spectacular Girl and I Like The Way This Is Going are subtle pointers to the fact that Eels' frontman is probably 'getting some' (and who could begrudge him that?).
Highlights were a nuclear strength El Hombre Lobo, a superb Twist And Shoutification of Mr E's Beautiful Blues, plus a gorgeous pedal steel-guitar-drenched encore of That's Not Her Way from the new album. Richie45 wrote agreat review of an earlier gig on the tour, which I can't improve on: http://www.wordmagazine.co.uk/content/eels-2
BUT the show was almost ruined by an extraordinary number of fuckwits who, having obviously booked a fleet of charabancs from Fuckwit-On-Sea, arrived en masse with little or no interest in actually listening to the gig.
A seething chap in front of me turned roughly to one particularly vociferous offender, and silenced him (albeit only briefly) with the perfectly justified: "Can you please just shut the fuck up!"
On the way out, I congratulated the heroic fellow for his succinct instructions. He gave me the biggest smile, a hug, and shook his head, before uttering: "Oh well, there's always a wasp in paradise."
If only there was a fuckwit swatter. Or maybe just a sharp few blows with a rolled up newspaper would do the trick?
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Completely with you
I was there and in fact think it may have been my mate Rich who performed the heroic intervention in front of you (were you in black t shirt? If so, recall him commenting wrily to this effect with you on way out). Proud of him, as I was attempting to rise above the general fuckwittery just at the point that he completely lost it to above effect...
Fantastic gig, and I particularly liked the contrast between the quieter, intense songs and the louder blues/garage band feel of most of the show. Completely unexpected but fab versions of Summer In The City and She Said Yeah as well. The man E can do no wrong.
Yes, yes!
Short, fat bird, that was me! Tell Rich he is a good man.
It was still a great gig, though.
I wish I'd have known a member of the Massive was standing right in front of me. We could have had a lovely chat.....er....oh.
black t-shirt eh,
you a Goth?
No, James
I'm not a goth, but apparently Sean Penn is. This, unbelievably, is a real film. This Must Be The Place, a Paolo Sorrentino written and directed film which focuses on Penn's aging rock star and his quest to locate his father's killer, an ex-Nazi who is hiding out in the United States. Really. Really, really.
(EDIT: via http://dlisted.com/node/38549)
A Virtual chat will have to do
but its not the same. Will pass on your good thoughts. Great post.
What do Wasps do?
What natural function do they perform? Why are they here?
As far as I can work out their primary function is to crawl up my trouser leg and sting me on the fucking knee when I scratch what think is just an itch. The little pieces of shit.
There was a lot of them buzzing around the south of England a few summers ago, so much so that the local news had a feature explaining why that was so. I think someone popped up to tell us what they actually did for a living but it was something so infinitessimally unimportant I forgot it even while he was talking. They eat aphids or something.
No doubt, as ever, I am as wrong about that as it is possible to be. If they didn't exist we'd all be slaves to aphids by next Whitsuntide, I'm sure.
But we can't train something else to do what wasps do? Something nice. Spaniels, perhaps.
Then we could tell all the wasps we know to fuck off and make them cry.
Chutney
We convinced our kids that wasps make chutney. They believed us for years. Then they grew up. The kids, not the wasps. Obviously.
Apparently, though they do have a use, being "considered quite beneficial to agriculture since they feed abundantly on harmful flies and caterpillars".
Wherabouts were you?
as I was surrounded by attentive, smiley and mostly silent peeps that i've always found Eels fans to be. And I'm the most prone to play the 'shut the fuck up' card as anyone else.
Yes Mr E was great as ever: always different, always the same
There were a lot of E lookalikes in the crowd, the beard count was off the chart!
Quite far back
Being a short arse, I have to stand towards the back, where the sloping floor is higher, in order to have any chance of seeing anything going on on stage. And don't get me wrong, I know this means I'm nearer the bar noise and the 'excuse me' shouts as people go off to the loo, but there were a lot of bellowed conversations going on. The Look You Give That Guy, which normally makes me' want to cry (in a good way), made me want to weep with frustration because some sort of fuckwit oratory championship was going on.
But, my fellow Eels fan, you're also right that there were the usual bunch of lovely people in the crowd too - and a good number sporting fuzzy chin furniture. I did wonder whether any of the bearded boys were you, Mr Dog Face...
No I am not fuzzy faced
despite my moniker. There were a couple of people who looked so like E i almost thought he was doing a walkabout of the venue
I thought it was excellent. 'The Look....' was a highlight for me too. As has been noted there was a real mix of people there, plenty of young uns too. He seems to attract the heartbroken, quirky, misplaced and just plain weird of all ages and creeds. I spotted one guy who had a copy of E's book that he held aloft throughout and was singing along with the fervour of a gospel church preacher.
My favourite bit was the drummer, Knuckles, having his own showboating theme song. That cover of Summer In The City was ace, E giving it his all with a real raw throated vocal. Lovely thrashy version of 'I Like Birds' with the crowd joining in. I had to look the Stones song up when I got home as I couldn't place it at the time. The new stuff sounded great live and the reworkings of the older material fitted in with the vibe of the show.
Spent most of today listening to the recent trilogy again. They make much more sense together. "Let's do this sgain sometime" he said at the end. Yep and I wonder what it will be like
"All Aboard the Fuckwit Charabanc"
Brilliant. I'll be chuckling all afternoon now.
Actually, I love Eels, quite gutted to have missed this one, didn't realise that it was on.
I concur
Great turn of phrase.
I think Terry Fuckwit of The Fuckwits should be invited to appear on a special edition of the BBC 1 programme Who Do You Think You Are? The hour-long show will feature Terry and other Fuckwit family and friends believing they've won tickets to be cast members of a special performance of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang The Musical featuring their very own charabanc in the starring role.
Instead when they arrive on stage they will be confronted by a hostile audience of Massive gig goers shouting variations of Who The Fuck Do You Think You Are? at them whilst Dan Cruikshank and Dr. Alice Roberts provide a Waldorf and Statler type commentary from their box seat.
The alveolar trill-free Cruikshank and the fragrant Roberts will guide us through a potted geneaological history of the Fuckwits taking in such significant Fuckwit historical moments as:
- the time the Fuckwits of Luca travelled down for the feeding of the Christians to the lions in the Colloseum and carried on talking through the chow down;
- the time Robert Fuckwit of York blathered on incessantly to Guy Fawkes as they hid in the undercroft of the Palace of Westminster and alerted their presence to the guards;
- the time Henri Le Fuckwit, proprietor of the Cafe de Twat in Paris during the war insisted on playing 'Spot The Resistance Member' with his waiters while Nazi officers were present.
- the time Sir Clive Penis-Fuckwit decided to accept a call on his mobile in Westminster Abbey to discuss dinner arrangements with his mistress while Elton John sang a special one-off version of Candle In The Wind.
The programme ends with Alan Carr: Chatty Man walking on stage inviting Terry onto his show at which point en masse the Massive audience bursts into tears of agonised hysteria and storm the stage with rolled up copies of Word magazine to swat them to a pulp. The Stig then arrives to drive the charabanc off to the nearest car crusher.