Simply Red-iculous

I decided recently that I fancied watching an old Simply Red music video. I decided upon one of my favourites – “Something got me started” – which in my opinion is one of the all-time-great music videos…

 - Mick Hucknall

So I found it on the Youtube and watched it. Wonderful. However… something happened. Something got me started, you might say…

Underneath the video I noticed comments about Mick Hucknall. Unsavoury comments. Deeply upsetting comments

It’s outrageous, and they kept making reference to his hair. And it’s out of order. It needs to stop. NOW.

Because, as Mick says himself, it’s racist:

http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/showbiz/news/a95846/hucknall-mocking-redheads-is-racist.html

Come on. Is this really how you repay a man who has given you nothing but hits?

Well I had to write about the comments I saw on the Youtube. I had to get it out somehow….

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick (By Malcolm Head)

“Mick Hucknall is a great big ginger shit, ROFL :-)” says Plymouth_Dean82

Is this an appropriate comment for a man who has sold more than 50 million records? How many records have you sold Plymouth Dean82?

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick…

“Hucknall’s face is like a swollen testicle covered in tinned spaghetti” says des_O-Connor’s_illegitimateson

How do you sleep at night des O-Connor’s illegitimate son? What innocent genius are you going to attack next? David Jason? And I suppose you think it’s funny to suggest that Des O Connor CBE has an illegitimate son? Well more fool you, because Des O Connor is widely-known to be a wonderful father despite having children with 4 different wives

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick…

Then buckyohaire15 left a comment that simply can’t be repeated. The sort of thing you wouldn’t even say about Hitler.

Are we talking about a genocidal maniac here, or are we talking about a jazzy-smooth-toned pop maestro cum philanthropist whose only crime is having too big a heart?

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick…

“Every Simply Red song is well shit, except Money’s too tight to mention. Obama’s a filthy liar”, says Iwantanswers35

The irony here, is that Money’s too tight to mention is so similar in style to the rest of Simply Red’s catalogue. So it really makes no sense for this to be the one song that Iwantanswers singles out. If he had said Fairground, then I would have understood to some degree, because despite being a ground-breaking song, it was a clear change of direction from Mick, and some fans just couldn’t handle it. As for Obama, well, the jury’s out and to be perfectly honest, this is hardly the right place to discuss him

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick…

“Go Mick. Love Simply Red. Stars is best album. Love it” says mumfromderby54

Finally, some sanity, courtesy of mumfromderby. How refreshing. And Stars is a great album. Not their best in my opinion; for me Picture Book just edges it, but what a nice comment…

Don’t pick on Mick; it makes me sick…

“Proper gash from a little bitch ginger batty boy. Bare gash” says realtalk12345z, with an arrogant disregard for spelling and grammar.

I suppose it’s cool to have bad grammar is it, realtalk? It’s cool to spell badly. I’ll bet the rappers advocate poor spelling. Well I like to spell and punctuate properly. And so does Mick. So you can shove your rap…

I’m sorry for the lack of cohesion in this piece. Needless to say, the anger filtered through into the creative process. People often talk about the dark-side of the internet but I’d never given it much thought. But now I’ve seen the dark-side for myself. And it’s brought out the worst in me. An aggressive streak I scarcely see. Is this the future? This online, tit-for-tat nastiness? Because if it is, I want no part in it

Again, apologies for my angry tone. No offence intended. I’m going to crack open a much-needed Capri-sun and take a breather…

Bye for now

M

The Poetry of my youth...

The poetry of my youth was a different animal entirely. I flirted with surrealism in various forms, and the content had the ability to fluctuate between starry-eyed optimism and outright pessimism. I decided yesterday, it being a Sunday and all, to pop into the loft and take a peek at the poetry of my youth. It was very enjoyable, and I’ve decided to reproduce for you within my blog some of what I found.

It is worth noting that much of it, including the following short poem/short prose piece, is distinctly different to my current style of writing. I was young, and God knows we all did things differently back then! I was constantly searching for new and innovative ways to create poetry. One way in which I used to attempt to galvanise my work was by skipping meals. I was a very consistent eater. 3 large meals a day, no snacks. I would never and will never touch recreational drugs, but an altered state of mind appeals to a struggling artist. How would skipping a meal affect me? Well I honestly can’t remember writing this so let’s see…

A time and a place (By Malcolm Head)

Bleak. Bleak. And weak…

“There’s a time and a place, it’s not a race”, said one man to the other,

“But life is a race, is it not?” replied the other, “Survival of the fittest? Dog eat dog?”

“Koreans eat dogs” replied the man, as he chopped the crusts off of his cheese sandwich with a razor-sharp knife

Bleak. Bleak. And Weak

“I’ll have a sandwich” replied the other, grinning naively

“You’ll have more than a sandwich”, said the man, turning and stabbing the other with one swift and brutal movement

The other fell to the ground. The world stood still

“Survival of the fittest” said the man to himself. He put down the knife, and went and turned on radio five live to see what the cricket score was. David Gower was at it again. Another 50…

Bleak. Bleak. Bleak…

As I say – it’s very different to my current stuff. But it’s odd, because I can’t imagine ever writing something like that. Skipping a meal really did pull something from within me that I hadn’t seen before. It was like an out-of-body experience. Needless to say the next morning I had more than a bowl of cornflakes to get myself back in shape! (To be fair I usually have more than a bowl of cereal anyway. I tend to have 3 weetabix - thin covering of semi-skimmed milk, no sugar; then 3 pieces of white toast - one just butter, one Jam, and then the other varies depending on mood and/or availability of Jam)

More of my old stuff to follow soon…

Best

M

America - I'm just not sure about it...

People often say to me ‘Malcolm, why have you never been to America?’, and it’s a good question. Why? The land of opportunity. Home of the brave. Land of the free. The Big Apple. What’s not to like?

It’s not that I don’t like America; far from it. As many of you will know my favourite actor is Tom Hanks and my favourite film is Apollo 13. Both from the US of A.

I also love Beethoven (the family film, not the composer. That’s not to say I dislike the composer, I’m just not necessarily a fan as such), Mississippi Mud Pie, Native American History, processed cheese… the list goes on. So why have I never been there? Do I have a problem with America?

I decided to deal with this conundrum in much the same way I deal with other conundrums in my life. I decided to write a poem about it, and then perform it in a working-men’s club in staplehurst. Please note: As explained, I have not been to America, so have based this poem upon films, television and American tourists at the museum, the majority of whom are extremely pleasant (with the notable exception of regular visitor Tag Sherman, who's appetite for rudeness is matched only by his appetite for fatty foods. I'm sorry Tag but I've been wanting to say that for a while. It's not on. We provide our service for free. We're understaffed, and we do our damndest to trace every one of your ancestors in the Kent police force but sometimes we just don't have the time. Your aggressiveness is uncalled for and what you said about Derek's teeth is unforgivable)

Is it America, or is it just me? (By Malcolm Head)

Is it America, or is it just me? I wondered as I wandered, through the streets of New York,

A man with a leathery face shouts something about coffee, while an overweight teenager screams at his mother to buy him a Charlie Sheen mask,

A burly woman tries to take a picture of the Statue of Liberty, but a Korean man leaps in front, to capture a pose for his own photo,

An aspiring actress smiles coyly at a man with long sideburns, as a large rat crawls on to the lap of a sleeping tramp, and steals some salami from his sandwich,

A pair of elderly women sit on a bench cross-stitching pictures of Mickey Mouse, and become disillusioned when they run out of thread

And is it America, or is it just me? I wondered as I wandered, through the streets of Philadelphia (which is of course a featured song in the brilliant Tom Hanks film Philadelphia, which really did for AIDS what Saving Private Ryan did for World War Two and Forrest Gump did for people with learning difficulties),

A teenager cycles along on a tiny bicycle, wearing his baseball cap back-to-front despite the obvious benefits of wearing it correctly on a sunny day such as this,

A man in a basketball vest who calls himself T-Bone tries to stop his dog from defecating on a busy crossing, which in my opinion is a fine example of precisely why it’s irresponsible to have a dog in a city,

A businessman in an unnecessarily large car parks beside a robin, who has landed to investigate an abandoned syringe,

As another man shouts something about coffee,

And is it America, or is it just me? I wondered as I wandered, through the streets of Dallas,

A smiling man wearing shorts and knee-high socks buys a variety of fruit and vegetables, some milk, and 4 boxes of bullets from his local grocery shop,

An alcoholic in a Bon Jovi T-shirt bites into a burger, and immediately throws it onto the ground and stamps on it, shouting ‘I asked for Ketchup’,

A woman wearing pink jogging bottoms with superstar written on them trips over a sack of uneaten tacos, as a character on a sitcom being filmed nearby suggests that he’s going to murder his wife because she wants him to help around the house more,

A student collects money for a shark charity, and gets told by a man carrying a bag of books covered in petrol that he’s wasting his time,

And is it America, or is it just me? I wondered as I wandered, through the streets of Los Angeles,

A ginger-haired man from Watford auditions for a part in a film about a children's baseball team, and he is unsuccessful,

A woman in an unflattering top waits outside the home of Julia Roberts,

A Mexican plumber listens to a Michael Buble CD he got for Christmas, finding it pleasant if a little uninspiring,

Whilst a bearded man tries to impress a pregnant woman by telling her he's Irish...

Is it America, or is it me?

So - is it America, or is it just me? I still don't know. I'll have to write some more verses. After all, it is a very big country. I've barely scratched the surface. So watch this space, and please, don't take any of this out of context. This is purely a discussion. I once performed a poem about Scotland in Sidcup, and was called a racist afterwards by a man who worked for British Gas. All because he took my comments out of context. Yes, I did say that some of Scotland's charm is marred by it's high concentration of drug-addled dole-seekers, but that came immediately after a line about how beautiful The Hebrides are.

I'm just a man from Horsmonden, Kent, trying to understand this crazy planet we call home...

All the best

M

I'm back...

At the moment, I'm not in a position either emotionally or legally to explain my long hiatus. Hopefully, in the future, that situation will change. But for now, let me just say I'm ok, I'm physically healthy and I'm still writing my poetry! Poetry that was once described by Simon Mayhew from the Sittingbourne Herald as 'without parallel in the South-West Kent area' and 'well-written'. So rest assured, I'm back, I'm here to stay, and crikey, have we got a lot to catch up on!