Small Man Syndrome

Monday 28 February 2005

Jesus, if it’s not Peter Phelps it’s Johnny Farnham thrashing about in his tiny, inflatable wading pool of insular celebrity in the misbegotten belief that you can endear yourself to the world by acting like an egomaniacal tool.
A week ago the prime minister of New Zealand suggested that an ageing pop singer warbling “Sadie the Cleaning Lady” (or even “Pressure Down”) might not be the most appropriate way to commemorate the slaughter of ANZACs at Gallipoli this year. Not only did Johnny F. take it personally, but he’s still whingeing about it:
I won’t say she is a real dog. I wouldn’t say that about my mother-in-law … and she is.

Charming bloke; fragile sense of self-worth. I suppose we shd be grateful he didn’t call her a dopey, hairy-backed sheila. Or at least grateful if we weren’t at his gig on the weekend, judging by the playlist (posted after the article above). “Hold On I’m Coming”? “It’s A Long Way To The Top”? Brrrr!
Now to show how topical and up-to-date I am here’s a photie of Michael Moore or somebody from last year’s Oscar ceremony.

My apologies to anyone who may have read the title and was worried I was going to post something about the Fred Durst sex tape.