Dear Lionel Richie

"...Hello...!"

Hear me now, Li! (Is it alright if I call you 'Li'?)

After watching your "2 smoove" crooning behind the embalmed corpse of the King of Pop at the Michael Jackson memorial show, I wanted to just share my vision, Jim Bowen-style, for how it might've played out given a little more thought to the showmanship of the thing. Here's what you could've won...

Wouldn't it have been genuinely amazing if instead you'd performed Hello and, at the climactic moment (marked in the video where that blind bit o' totty clasps her hands round your sullen mush), at the utmost pivotal "Hello...!", Jacko's body popped up out of his golden casket and, via the miracle of invisible wire puppetry, flapped around onstage like a sad parody of Weekend at Bernie's?

Seriously, now. I can help but feel like you've missed out on a serious opportunity for TV gold there. It would've kicked Janet's tit falling out at the Superbowl into a cocked hat.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - "...Hello...!"

Dear World of Fashion, Jo Whiley, Idiot BBC Glastonbury programmers

If I could design a T-shirt - any T-shirt in the world - it would say this:

KATE MOSS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ROCK & ROLL.

That's it. White cotton, plain black type, bold letters and just those few simple words: "KATE MOSS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ROCK & ROLL".

So! Here's what I'm proposing. We round up the author of this article and all the guilty parties interviewed herein, together with anyone who's ever paid £250 for a pair of FUCKING WELLIES. We pelt them with mud for that unique "trampy boho" look that's so in this season (thus royally fucking whichever overpriced high-street attire they've switched into to go watch the Klaxons), then stamp their grotesque faces into the slop beneath a Prodigy-sized moshpit. Only when they've gurgled their last fearsome breath can the world truly begin to repair the irrevocable damage these appalling shits have wrought upon humankind's dignity and worth.

As of now, I'm coining a new phrase to describe this putrid culture of flouncing microbacteria: 'GLASTONBASTARDS'. Spread the word.

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Internet

At 12:21am, Davis McLelland wrote: [Some off-hand comment in generally poor taste regarding departed King of Pop.]


At 12:22am, SensOfPerspectiv wrote:
OMG DAVID, HE WOZ A GENIUS, WOT HAV U EVER DUN

At 12:23am, followrOfLord wrote:
YEAH MAN IT IS LIKE JESUZ OR SUMMAT

At 12:23am, SensOfPerspectiv wrote:
WTF R U TALKING ABOUT, IZ MORE IMPRTANT THAN DAT, JESUZ CUDNT MOONWALK

At 12:24am, followrOfLord wrote:
YEAH BUT HE CUD WALK ON WATR

At 12:24am, SensOfPerspectiv wrote:
SHUT UP, JACKO CUD WALK ON WATR HE JUST NEVR TRYD

At 12:25am, followrOfLord wrote:
JESUZ TURND WATER INTO WINE N DIED 4 ARE SINS, WOT DID JACKO EVER DO

At 12:26am, SensOfPerspectiv wrote: JACKO SED HEAL THE WRLD, MAKE IT BETTR PLACE, 4 U N 4 ME N THE ENTR HUMN RACE

At 12:27am, followrOfLord wrote: HE WOZ A PASTY NONSE, WANNA B STARTIN SUMTHIN, TRY UR HEART M8

At 12:28am, SensOfPerspectiv wrote: U R A NAZI

At 12:29am, Davis McLelland wept openly for the future of humankind.

Regards,
Lone Voice of Reason in a World apparently LOSING ITS MIND.

Dear Jarvis Cocker

Come on, Jarv. Arse out onstage at Jacko's funeral. We're all counting on you.


Regards,
Davis.

Dear Soulja Boy

If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not "kiss you thru the phone".

If it's one of those chunky old-school red efforts like Batman used to have, however, I would be quite up for clocking you over the head with it until no more words escape your worthless body.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Even a cursory glance at those shades yields the conclusion that you've blatantly scribbled your name on there in Tippex. Not quite the image of the super-bling "playa" you're trying to project, one suspects.

Dear Fred Goodwin

Voluntarily handing back half your annual pension, 'Sir'? Oh, what a fucking legend.

Truly, we must have all misjudged you. Just the £342,500 a year now, is it? Plus the tax-free £2.7 million snagged at the start?

Man of the hour. Humanitarian of the decade. Get the Nobel-fucking-Prize judges on the phone.

Stay in France; don't ever come back; and, most important of all - DROP DEAD, FRED you WHOPPING COLOSSACUNT.

Regards are too good for you.

Davis.

Dear Steve Jobs (II)

Re: the below. I take it all back. Apparently The Stig took his hat off on Top Gear tonight.

All around the country, one can hear the clackety-clack of a million tiny lives reverberating in unison, all Tweeting worthless proclamations of shock and awe. Yes, I can almost read it now, without having to go anywhere that puss-filled carbuncle of a webshite hell-bent on turning us into micro-blogging, monosyllabic automatons incapable of basic verbal communication...

@PointlessExistence: OMG! Bloke is some bloke! Fuck me! Thort it would be some other bloke! LOL

(...And yet most of my posts contain less than the requisite number of characters for a so-called 'Tweet'. God help us, we're all fucked).

Regards,
Davis.

PS - When I say I take it all back, I meant just the part about not giving a fruity hoot for your shitty liver. Obvo.