Potted Grammy’s 2014 for those that missed it


Potted Grammys for those of you that missed it. 

Beyoncé came on looking very hot in her undies and sang a carefully choreographed incredibly lit version of Drunk in Love while sitting on a Mandy Rice Davies chair. It is an ode to having sex with Jay Z, who showed up near the end in a DJ and large bow tie and phoned in an inaudible rap. I can't have been alone in wondering if there isn't a part of Beyoncé's brain thinking "I'm working way harder at this than he is..."

 Anyhow one person who probably was wondering something like that was Jamie Foxx who came on (after Pharell appeared in a weird oversize Mounties hat looking a bit like some weird Rupert the Bear sidekick) and  basically creepily flirted with Beyoncé who was by now sitting in the front row with her husband in a "sorry Jay Z I can't help looking she's so hot" way. 

Then Mackerelmore or someone came on (a white rapper who looks like Boris Becker with a tunnocks tea cake on his head) he rapped a very actually uplifting ditty about gay marriage. This took a turn for the bizarre when Queen Latifah - who looked very happy to be there in not a totally convincing way - announces that 29 gay couples and Mackerelmore's sister were gonna get married right there and then during the song. Latifah kind of asked them to say I Do whilst stood in front of a glass door through which unbeknownst to us , and apparently Queen L, Madonna was about to make a huge entrance. 

So Ryan Halibut (Mackerelmore's mute underfed sidekick) had to manhandle the heft of Latifah out the road just in the nick of time so that Madge could burst through said glass doors dressed like a diazepam befuddled Miss Haversham in a white cowboy outfit . Madge started screeching out 'Open Your Heart to Me ' in a vocally rancid way while holding a weird white walking stick (She must have had a sprained ankle cos nobody, I repeat nobody, could have thought it looked cool) . 

Basically Madonna was only the first of several over the hill superstars stinking up the place with their dazzling hasbeenosity, and made to look even shitter by on top of their game performers like Beyonce and Pink.

Daft Punk came on , well Chic with Stevie Wonder and Pharell,  to do 'Get Lucky' . Initially Stevie appeared to be have misunderstood the gig and seemed to be working as the stenographer in a court room taking a transcript tapping on this small box . You could see him actually typing "She stays up all night for the sun...," 

Google work revealed that the small thing he was tapping was in fact an iPad. Maybe the Stylophone app as a tribute to Rolf Harris? But you couldn't hear it or Stevie singing much ( though he clearly isn't over the hill in any way) which was a shame cos Pharell sang (allegedly his first live performance of the song) and sounded nearly as bad, but not quite, as the folk cover of Get Lucky by Aly Bain et al on Hogmanay.

Suddenly a curtain pulled back and there were the two Dafties in Darth Vaderesque helmets like two elective mute boys at Nursery. The music got suitably zowie wowee for a while.

Then less like a Monster of Rock more like the Bloated Carcass of a Dead Seal of Rock appeared ie Metallica with a Chinese pianist who had a two or three letter name beginning with Y. He did a ridiculous but suitably bish bash cod Liberace intro on piano until Metallica lumbered into full er throttle? strangle? like an overweight Dad going jogging in leather trousers and a tattoo sleeve.

Lars may have once been a decent drummer but now he drums like the guy who is still in the band cos he has a van but had to cut his hair cos he works in an insurance office during the week. In fact he probably spends his week counting his money.

In the middle of this came Lorde who was pretty good.

Pink did another dazzling aerialist display which wasn't as good as the amazing one she did at the Grammys in 2010 despite an increased range of death defying moves. It wasn't as good a) because in 2010 she hadn't already done it in 2006 and b) she didn't get dunked in water in the middle of it like an overexcited teabag ( as she was in 2010 to general astonishment). Then she jumped off the ropes and started doing angry couple dancing with a bare torsoed male dancer before changing into a frock and duetting with some singer I had never heard of in unfeasably long shoes.

Then, as if Madonna and Metallica weren't enough then came Paul McCartney and Ringo. Now I love the Beatles as much as the next man but since Paul McCartney did Hey Jude at the Olympics surely someone needs to have a word. Despite the massive back catalogue of great songs he did something new from a movie that was just bleaaah. 

It had that sub Chas and Dave chug a lug groove of so much of his post Beatles stuff.

Ringo was on drums in the sense that he was sat behind a set of drums and waving his arms about holding sticks. He was clearly miming and clearly didn't even know what he was meant to be playing.

At this point I went to bed and unfortunately missed Taylor Swift head banging to a ballad while playing the piano which I have seen since and looks like she was either having an orgasm or had tetanus.

Basically it was all good.

It was definitely Not Jazz.

Rats vs Ashes

 One of my passions is cricket......This is 100% true:

I was dawdling at the pub last night having played bodhran at our weekly thursday night folk music session intending to get back home for the start of play in Adelaide Ashes Test match. My mate Iain MacLeod, the ex-Shooglenifty mandolin player (and the only other person in the pub who gives a toss about cricket cos we are in Scotland) asks "who won the toss?"  I go on OBO ( a live cricket score website) on my iphone a suddenly see 1) Katich the australian opening batsman has been run out 4th ball so they are 0 for 1 and then suddenly at that moment it updates and they are 0 for 2 and Ponting their captain and best batsman is out for a golden duck ie first ball! Me and Iain shout and hug each other (in a manly way) in the pub and I leg it off down the street back to my house (nb it is minus 10 degrees and Pathhead is covered in snow). My wife, Gina, is Scottish but came to OZ 4 years ago with me to see the Ashes and we were at the Gabba and Adelaide test matches. She follows the cricket a bit. Having been there last time it means a lot to see England go back and compete like this.

I am running down the street (a bit tipsy it has to be said) in a kind of drunk manic dreamland. I run in the house kind of expecting TV to be on and her watching the game. I run in. She shouts " We've got Rats!".

I didn't really listen. I shout " Australia are 0 for 2!" and look at her expecting an outburst of wifely empathetic joy.

She shouts "We've got f***ing Rats!"

I shout "Australia are 0 for 2! Eh? What?" She screams - "WE'VE GOT F**ING RATS!". Starting to notice...

She screams - "WE'VE GOT F**ING RATS! YOU DRUNK *$!&". Starting to notice  lack of wifely empathetic joy.

We had rats before many years ago and it was really bad - they kind of drove Gina and the kids out of the house while I was away working - and so the news fires deep protective neanderthal warrior instincts within me.

These compete in my drunken brain with the euphoria and gobsmacking excitement about Australia being 0 for 2, plus the disbelief that I missed it. I am completely overwhelmed - what to do - and then we realise the TV is down ( snow on the aerial!!).

I spring into action, my wife yelling at me pretty much the whole time. I am kind of ignoring her continuously although knowing that I will pay a price for it later. First I get the TV on (go outside, climb on outside boiler in 3 feet of snow, slip and fall off, get back on, reach up with pole, bash snow off aerial). Go back in and twiddle leads on the upstairs landing. 

I am aware of wife now screaming "TV is back on" with a "so this is more important than the rats obviously” tone. Then I find out it is 2 for 3 (ie 3 Australian batsmen out for 2 runs) - WTF - what is happening! my brain is truly churning.

Then I go up into the attic with a rolling pin while Gina is screaming 'Don't go up there!' - she wants me to sit quietly and listen to the rat noises. My hindbrain (with that kind of unrealistic decision making caused a) being male b) being pissed and c) by watching the Bourne Identity too many times (and identifying innappropriately with Bourne)  has obviously decided to just decisively sort the rat problem as quickly as possible so I can watch the cricket.

“Simple plan.Kill the rats. Then watch Cricket.” says my hindbrain.  I totally ignore her again. I go up there looking to bash in the rat skulls before another wicket falls and then remember from our last rat infestation that rats hide when approached by noisy large men with axes or other objects. Come down.

Gina goes off to bed in what I took to be a “you are a twat” huff. I sit down and watch the game till 5 am with the sound of rats merrily running about in the attic and in the walls behind the plasterboard. Happy days.

Got up after 2 hours sleep and kind of semi-grovelled to wife and went out and got anti rat stuff. 

So now Me vs Rats is on as well as England vs Australia. There can only be two winners. Game on.