An observation of a nation

This piece of writing was written a couple of years ago now, but it was the only thing I had to hand - little outdated by the general feeling is still the same

Bring back The Sex Pistols, the band that managed to capture the imaginations, anguish

and repressed rebellion of the youth of the 70’s. They sound tracked a generation,

attacking consumerism, social conformity and even the music industry. Nearly 40 years

on, and it’s clear, that they had a point, musically speaking take, Ed Sheeran, now I don’t

doubt that he has talent and a throaty romantic crone, but even teeny bopping favourites,

One Direction are doubtful to draw the crowds of bra burning, crying, fainting, panty

throwing crowds of The Pistols’, or even The Stone’s age. Now electric lights and high

metal fences replace the 10,000 white butterflies and crowd surfing, the lyrics of peace

and love or uncensored honesty, replaced with one word chorus’. Not so much sung as

spoken with corrective computer tones. But with the right looks and the fake computer

generated voices, the crowds fall in line. Faced only with others the same. Scattered are

the artists with actual talent. They, also fall in line, allowing words to be cut and added to

their songs, and branding beyond belief, releasing their own condoms and using parades

of naked women in their video‘s because their agents tell them, “sex sells“. The punk

initiated rebellious days are gone. May be not for us. The mere un­famous public, and we

can lute as many shops as we like without needing to worry about our images. I’m not

saying that JLS should breakout their crowbars, I’m just saying, “Never Mind the

Bollocks”.

Now think about it, the public crush with the royal family at present. The eagerly awaited

marriage of “Wills and Kate”. All sound tracked by the ethereal tones of “Never Mind the

Bollocks”. Yes, yes I’m sure that for some the royal wedding represents some fantastical

preface to the countries downward spiral into recession and jobless depression. Whilst

Peckham postcode wars will all pause as the Capital’s close knit communities pull

together for their street parties. And the jobless arise from their depression and worries of

eviction to fish out their last coins for strawberries and cream, (we all know we can’t afford

the typically working class miners pasty anymore, thanks to the newest of cons, the pasty

tax, still, let them eat cake.).

With the rich now taxed even less and the politicians and footballers nailing every cheap

w***e that scatters the sidewalks from Edinburgh to Exeter selling their stories of sex and

scandal, the papers control the nation. Petrol prices soar 3p in one day, because of the

stupidity of sheep like paranoia of a non­existent strike. Dear the sun, we thank you for

your pricelessly accurate information.

If there was ever a time that Britain screamed out for Johnny Rotten and his gang of

proud to be British misfits, now is that time, all together now, god save, The Sex Pistols!

Author's Note

What do you all think then?