Saturday, 27 February 2010

Dear Cheryl Cole (II)

Hey, great news! I've found a female friend of mine who hasn't fucked your husband!

Now, she's prepared to not do it, but only on the strict proviso that you're willing to end your life as soon as possible.

- No? Oh, well. Fucky-sucky-Ashley it is, then.


Dear Norm Lurie of Larrikin Music

I have been following your dubious legal claim against Men At Work in a land Down Under with interest, and have a few observations I'd like to share with you.

[Glasses, slaphead, shit-eating grin, next to the ginger bird in the middle].

I'll cut right to the heart of the matter first of all: you are the VERY WORST KIND OF CUNT. I say this with utmost sincerity, conviction and venom, for it is an indisputable truth. Please do not attempt to paint your claim of Copyright Infringement against Men At Work as anything other than a flagrantly transparent display of opportunistic greed. Do not attempt to turn yourself into the underdog fighting the noble fight against the juggernaut of corporate dominance. You are part of a multinational publishing conglomerate who laid its position bare the moment you opened your rancid, sewage-spewing mouth and uttered the words, "I must say, it's earned a hell of a lot of money for us since we bought it".

Your claim for 40-60% of the song's royalties is an affront to common sense which I sincerely hope will be laughed out of court on appeal. I'm going to try and put this as simply as possible, as you clearly have no interest in, or understanding of, any aspect of the creation, theory or practice of music. Are you ready? Pay attention, you nutty little shit-stain.

The phrase in question which you claim has been lifted wholesale from Marion Sinclair's Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree forms NO PART of the actual song itself. It in an instrumental flourish which forms part of the recorded track's arrangement. It is a musical afterthought which enhances the atmosphere of the song by paying unconscious homage to national tradition. Mathematically, it forms less than 1% of the final recorded track. The four notes - four notes - in question do, however, have NO BEARING WHATSOEVER on the structural, melodic or lyrical composition of the song itself. The term 'plagiarism' implies a deliberate, calculated theft of another person's work to form the basis of another. This flourish was added nearly a year after the song itself was written, wholly independently from the final recorded version.

Were it the case that you are a blood relative of Marion Sinclair or a representative of her estate attempting to put bread in the mouths of her ailing, poverty-stricken grandchildren, your shameless money-grubbing might be vaguely excusable. However, you're not. You're a contemptuous arsehole who purchased someone else's creative endeavour for the sake of his own financial gain. The author of the work in question didn't notice any similarity between her song and Men At Work's during her lifetime - or, at worst, simply didn't care. Were it the case that the original composer did notice the fleeting similarity between this song and hers, it is fair to assume that she would have taken the line exactly in the spirit it was intended: as an off-the-cuff tribute to a famed children's standard.

Just so we're clear, people like you are the reason why artists, composers, fans and creatives loathe the infrastructure of the music business and await its collapse with eager anticipation. I would like to propose a mass free-download of Kookaburra in the hope that you would respond exactly as one would imagine: by attempting to take each and every person to court to get your 1 cent's worth of royalty. Ranked in preferential order, here are the methods of death which I sincerely hope will visit you soon.

1) Kerosene-based immolation.
2) Slow, painful cancer.
3) Protracted asphyxiation through drowning. In a piranha tank.
4) Torn limb from limb while being dragged through the streets to a soundtrack of Men At Work's greatest hits.

You are a truly disgusting individual motivated solely by greed. Not only are you off my Xmas Card list for life, I sincerely hope you get shit in your stocking this Christmas. Those wishing to share these sentiments with Norm Lurie in person should feel free to pass their thoughts on via the following channels -

Tel: +61 2 8252 6200