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.
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.
Davis.
