The First One

Turns out it's not good enough to sit there in the sidelines sniggering & occasionally posting one-liner comments on more finely honed sites than this one, oh no.. Apparently you have to get wet/take the plunge/dive in (etc) if you want to be a contender, Charlie. But, as any fule kno, it's always the First One that kicks up a stink, that threatens to drag the half-baked ideas that refuse to come out nicely like they did in your head straight back to obscurity where they undoubtedly belong. It's these demons we're here to see today:

"Publish vs Delete. They're evenly matched & have been training hard for this moment, Delete traditionally strongest in the earlier stages but if Publish can hold off the initial pummelling I think we could go the full five. What do you think, Tim?"

"Championship whites.  Cliff'n'Sue.  Strawberries."

Exactly. No-one said it was gonna be easy but as my grandmother used to say before she was discovered naked outside Whipsnade Reptile House "If you don't come to the party, you.....you..............you don't..........I'm sorry, dear......................sorry." Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked : Last night my friend Donald & I were trying to come up with the kind of punch-the-sky global appeal chorus that gets played on football matches & commercials, thereby saving us the effort of actually having to form a band & do gigs. We've been mooting this idea for 3 months now & have managed 2 meetings in the pub after which we forgot what the minutes were ("I thought you were supposed to be writing this up" etc..) but commitment to the cause still astonishes me after all this time. He mentioned the plight of Midge Ure, having penned the evergreen 'Vienna' with it's rabble-rousing strapline "This means nothing to me" which consequently denied him the luxury of early retirement (Mr Ure to this day is reduced to selling ice creams from a van in the Easterhouse area & doing the occasional jingle for Radio Clyde). Clearly this is something we must avoid at all costs as our collective age already nudges 90 & the rigours of endless touring, drug abuse & casual sex may well tip us over the edge (although this does have the upside of lowering said collective age).

So many good ones have been had already, godammit! "Inger-land, Inger-land" (I could have been sipping my Tom Collins in Fort Lauderdale RIGHT NOW if we'd come up with that little beauty). Anyway, Donald reckons the football market has long since been cornered & we should concentrate on product. On telly. On the radio. Billboards. Direct mail. And the rest. Look what Tim did with Persil : He single-handedly turned Unilever round, they were going to the dogs before he quite brilliantly tapped into the nations' collective unconscious & made it cool to have a loser telling us to do laundry. I know this doesn't have much to do with writing a killer chorus but that's not the point, the ethos remains the same. We'll come up with the tune later. And the words. Next meeting, wait & see...