Introducing Andrew, the Prince of Mirth, and Phil Collins, the living reincarnation of a survivor of the Alamo
Lost in Showbiz presents itself to you reeling from a week of astounding revelations. First there was the OK! magazine's eye-popping disclosures about the forthcoming royal nuptials. "VIP invites will go out to David and Samantha Cameron, Barack and Michelle Obama, Nicolas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni and assorted royals. The extended congregation will consist of William and Kate's close friends, relatives and public figures," it boldly asserted, plainly shock news to anyone who thought VIP invitations would go out to Lemmy from Mot�rhead, Rusty Lee and Roy "Chubby" Brown and that the extended congregation would be comprised of winners of a phone-in competition on JK and Joel's Saturday Night Thing on Humberside's 96.9 Viking FM.
Then there was the Daily Mail's news that Phil Collins, a long-time collector of Alamo memorabilia, now believes himself to be the reincarnation of John W Smith, a horseback courier who left the battle of the Alamo shortly before the remaining Texan troops were massacred in order to deliver a message, was known as "Il Colorado" ? the redhead ? because of his abundant hair, and was later the first mayor of San Antonio. "They all want to know," revealed the woman who told him (a psychic called Carolyn), "because it gives them something stable to believe, that they are not just nutcases collecting this Alamo stuff." Of course! Collecting military memorabilia? Woo-woo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Collecting military memorabilia because you believe yourself to be the reincarnation of 19th-century horseback courier "Il Colorado"? Oh, that's all right then. Phew.
This presumably explains Genesis's remarkable 1983 single Illegal Alien, on which Collins sings in a Speedy Gonzales accent about how Mexicans will pimp their sisters in order to gain access to the US: he wasn't just being unbelievably racist! It was the disembodied voice of his former self, calling from the hereafter in order to avenge his fallen comrades with the scalpel of satire!
It also sheds light on why Collins has apparently had a painting made of himself in 19th-century military uniform alongside the rest of the Texan garrison at the Alamo, and has been stockpiling cannonballs from the Alamo in the basement of his Swiss home ? a relief for Lost in Showbiz, which had long feared that Collins was stockpiling hundreds of cannonballs in the basement of his Swiss home because he believed himself to be the reincarnation of a 15th-century Swiss general and was planning on declaring war on the Milanese and invading the Ossola valley.
But, of course, even the news of Collins's past life pales slightly in comparison with the revelations from WikiLeaks. The world has been shaken by Saudi Arabia encouraging the US to attack Iran, Pakistan "rolling the nuclear dice", and the fear of sustaining permanent physical injury through laughing too hard at Richard Littlejohn's parody of the cables in the Daily Mail, in which he brilliantly posited that all Americans are called things such as Hank Cheeseburger III and demonstrated that he absolutely doesn't have some kind of pathological obsession with homosexuality by only making 10 jokes about gay people in 800 words.
But Lost in Showbiz finds itself most chilled by the US embassy cables' description of what appears to be The Worst Social Event In History. CS Lewis thought hell was an endless, desolate twilight city upon which night is imperceptibly sinking, Sartre thought hell was les autres, Zoroastrians believe it may involve purgation in molten metal. Nice tries all, but how wan, how ineffectual do those descriptions of misery and torment seem when held against the idea of a "raucous brunch" in the Hyatt Regency hotel, Bishkek, attended by Prince Andrew and the US ambassador to Kyrgyzstan, Tatiana Gfoeller.
I know! Lost in Showbiz can scarcely believe it was credible either! A rare chance to bask in the golden philosophy and sparkling bon mots of one of the world's great intellectuals and wits! It's not like Prince Andrew has a lot of time to spare in his pressing schedule of playing golf and taking private planes around the world at the taxpayers' expense. And in the Hyatt Regency hotel, Bishkek too! Lost in Showbiz has been on TripAdvisor and it sounds like the last word in luxury, although it regrets to inform you that more than one correspondent suggests anyone who touches the eggs in the restaurant can expect a dose of the runny bum. "I was so ill from the breakfast my entire time in Bishkek was ruined," complains "bespoketravel". I wasn't into admiring the facilities from the toilet which I could hardly move from," wails "howlr", piteously.
Lost in Showbiz hastens to add that the failure of the event had nothing to do with HRH, who, reliable as ever, regaled the assembled masses with his legendary brand of mirth that has proved such a pivotal influence on Al Murray The Pub Landlord: "Rawrf! Rawrf! Rawrf! The French are all corrupt and smell of onions and go hon-he-hon-he-hon! Rawrf! Rawrf! Rawrf! Americans are thick and called things such as Hank Cheeseburger III! Rawrf! Rawrf! Rawrf! Germans get up early and put towels on the sunloungers! Rawrf! Rawrf! Rawrf! Och aye the noo! See you Jimmy! I'm being Scottish now! Rawrf! Rawrf! Rawrf!"
I know, I know: the second "H" in HRH should stand for "hilariousness"! How could the unnamed senior former diplomat have possibly drawn the conclusion he subsequently expressed in the Guardian: that Prince Andrew is "a twat"?
The problem lay very much with Ambassador Gfoeller, who seems to have sat there pursing her lips into a cat's bum of disapproval, like Nick from The Apprentice, every time HRH took off in his taxpayer-funded private ROFLcopter. Way to ruin a "raucous brunch" at the Hyatt Regency hotel, Bishkek! Perhaps she'd had the eggs, in which case, LiS can only say: "Man up, ambassador ? a case of the trots is no excuse for losing your sense of humour."
Ananda Lewis Kate Bosworth Tamala Jones Yamila Diaz Alicia Keys
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