The Voice 2016 – my audition
Now I’m not sure whether I dreamt this or not, as it’s getting harder to distinguish fantasy and reality at my advanced age, but it certainly felt real enough.
So, there I was, up on stage, having slammed through the best ever rendition of ‘Satanic Lust’ by Hammercult from their “Steelcrusher” album. All four judges had pushed the button, and they were readying their pitches.
The one with the bum fluff promised to make me a cuppa round his Mums, and how we’d have such a fun time, Boy George offered me a lifetime supply of candles and a VIP to his local Gas Board showroom, Paloma Faith said she would take me round Noel Fielding’s and that we would have a wacky, zany time, while Will.I.Am may or may not have said something about helium rabbits, the cast of Glee and a wickety wackety woo.
So I responded; Bumfluff – I’m not really sure who you are, but as I do recall you in a video with a cartoon Lily Allen, you are dead to me.
Boy George – you are a disgrace. I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire, especially as you probably enjoy that sort of thing.
Paloma – you can scrub up nice, but your mediocre career has failed to deliver one song you would want to listen to twice, but you’ve still managed to disappear up your own arse.
Billy boy – your disregard for punctuation would have disqualified you anyway, but anyone involved with “What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps (Check it out)”
Should be taken outside and beaten to death.
So, fuck youse all, I’m off to the pub with Tom Jones.
There was more, but it got a bit mucky, so I won’t bother you with that. The worst part is, I’ll need to watch it to see if it really happened. Bugger.