I paid her; I get to carry her corpse

Never meet your heroes, that’s what they say isn’t it? 

Looking back, I guess I have met a few people that could be considered ‘heroes’ in a broad sense as most of mine are pretty far from the mainstream.  The majority of my idols are dead to be fair.

I would like to think that if I met William Burroughs he would be a fairly nice guy, as long as he wasn’t on a massive comedown.  We can all get a bit crabby when we’re Jonesing and that man did take a lot of skag in his day.

I did meet Lemmy; I gave him change for the fruit machine back when the London Astoria 2 was still there; that was pretty cool.  The LA2’s been knocked down now and is getting replaced with executive living quarters of some shitty office building.

I used to love that place, so much better than its bigger brother and I have been to so many legendary gigs in there.  I have seen so many killer bands in that place, Cannibal Corpse, Morbid Angel, Death, At the Gates, Dissection, shit even a band that I was in played that place.

The times I have spent just queuing up outside there.  Standing in the rain and the cold clutching my ‘first 50 on the door’ goodie bag coupon cut out of Metal Hammer magazine.  Remember them?

But anyway… heroes and all that.

I know a guy that was working at Reading this year and purposely avoided Mike Patton on the off chance that he turned out to be a bit of a prick.  I’m sure he’s a nice guy but you just don’t know do you.

Take for example the peoples favourite (well in the 90’s anyway) Michael Barrymore.

The guy goes from being the host of one of the most popular game shows on prime time television to a depressive coke head with a dead homosexual boy in his swimming pool.  Class.  Apparently he works part time in a garden centre in Brentwood.

But it doesn’t stop there; look at the Operation Yew tree arrests.  My entire youth has been destroyed.  It seems like every bloke that was on the telly/radio has been arrested for paedophilia or rape.

Only the other day I was watching some old public information films from the 70’s and 80’s on You Tube.  It brought back so many memories.  The kid getting blown up trying to retrieve his Frisbee from the pylon.  The creepy voice of Donald Pleasance laughing away as a child floats face down in a foot of stagnant water.   http://youtu.be/m0xmSV6aq0g  Check it out!

But then things took a sinister turn. 

Jimmy Savile popped up with the ‘clunk, click, every trip’ tagline and my blood ran cold.  Of course he want kids to put their seat belts on, if they don’t die there are more for him to fuck.

Then a clip of Rolf Harris came on with him surrounded by kids at a swimming pool.  It was for teaching children to swim.  A few years ago everyone that watched it would be saying “Nice one, Rolf, cheers for keeping our children safe, well in!”  Now everyone that sees it would just call him a fucking nonce.

And he painted the queen.

I wonder what she makes of it all.  Loads of people that she has met and endorsed for their charity work turn out to be kiddie fiddlers.  She’s probably down with it; after all they only really targeted working class kids and she did knight the majority of the monsters.  That’s why they all work for children’s charities, get and old list going, easy to source addresses and what not.

It’s funny how no modern day celebrities have been exposed as predators.  I reckon that Ant and Dec have a very dark past.  When the cameras are off in the jungle it all goes a bit ‘Cannibal Holocaust’.  I wonder if they raped that Cat Deeley, I wonder if that’s why she’s not on the telly anymore.  I was really wanting her to be hit by a car.  I didn’t much like her anyway… too many teeth.

I can’t wait for some more celebrity scandals to come out, really juicy ones like Mr clean cut Phillip Schofield is found having his nuts whipped in a Soho dungeon by an inexpensive dominatrix.

Maybe some kind of drug induced breakdown involving Dale Winton going on a bumming rampage on Hampstead Heath.  He would be found by a ‘Sun’ reporter asleep in a bush, naked as the day he was born covered in the seamen of seventy men.  It would take an operation to remove the traffic cone from poor old Dale.  The media attention will eventually drive him to suicide.

We were playing guess the next celebrity paedophile at work and someone had Rolf Harris before it transpired that he was a nonce.  I had Jim Davidson but he turned out just to be a rapist.

I still have Dave Benson Phillips in the paedo sweep stake.

Simon Cowell looks like the sort of bloke that doesn’t like hearing the word no.  It’s that fucking haircut; it makes him look like a sex pest.  But having a pop at poor old Simon is a little too easy; the material writes itself with that cunt.

I’d like to see some Hollywood A-listed get caught trying to dispose of the corpse of a cheap hooker.  Christian Bale out in the desert burying a whore rolled up in a rug or dissolving her in acid in a back road motel/meth lab.  That would be brilliant.  Maybe even someone like Adam Sandler gets caught fucking a corpse in a morgue; that would be killer.

And I don’t think we have had a serial killer celebrity yet.  Or a killer that just targets A-list actors and personalities.  They could call them the Golden Globe killer or something.  The Oscar night strangler.  Awesome.

I can feel a novella coming on.

We have been spoilt over the last few years with celebrities taking just a little too much of this that and the other and say, slip under in the bath and drown.  So don’t take too many painkillers or drink till you choke on your own vomit.

How much do you have to do to get to that point?  Now, I have drunk to excess on several occasions but I have always managed to wake up the next day.  I might have been late for work but I have managed not to die in my sleep.

There was that time I thought I was having a heart attack in the night but it turned out that I was just laying on my arm and it had a bit of a spaz out.

It did freak me out a bit.