All my own work

After stealing somebody else's talent with my last post, I think it's only fair that I think of something original of my own.

Watching the music channels recently, it's refreshing to see how the artists use their talents to come up with original Christmas songs.  You've got Roy Wood and Wizzard (I wish it could be Christmas every day), Cliff (Mistletoe and wine), Elton (that song that he did at Christmas), and those others that I can't be arsed to remember, mainly because my brain has been saturated with them for the past three weeks and it is now using protective measures to prevent recall.

Anyway, there are some songs that have been done to death - Do they know it's Christmas (three different versions, too many releases), White Christmas, Santa Baby, errm and some others (again, the protective measures have kicked in and I daren't delve too deep in case something fuses and I end up running around the house nakes, chomping on the cardboard tube from a roll of wrapping paper while screaming All I want for Christmas, is yoooooooooooooo-hooooooooooo!!!)

So yes, cover versions.  There's a bit of controversy at the moment because somebody (the winner of a TV talent show no less) DARE do a re-hash of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.  Who's complaining, Cohen?  Like hell he is, he needs to fill the $10m hole in his pension that was left when his manager shafted him.  Nope, the evangelical fans of deceased singer Jeff Buckley are kicking up a stink  because somebody who can sing better than Jeff (even before he drowned himself) will probably get to the top of the chart with their version of the song.  You see, Jeff's fans see his version of the song as sacred, never to be touched again.  Not that his is the best version, having listened to a load of them (and there have been gazillions) the best version is probably John Cale's - as featured in Shrek, but not on the soundtrack (that was the perpetually flat Rufus Wainwright).

It's a bloody song, for goodness sake.  Jeff Buckley, my arse.  If he was alive, do you really think that he'd give a shit whether the latest talent show hopeful had done yet another cover of a song that he didn't even write?  No, he wouldn't, unless he was an idiot, which he might have been since he went for a swim and drowning - even I couldn't manage that (because I know I can't swim and I wouldn't try it).

People get so precious about things.  If you don't like a new version of a song, don't listen to it.  Get your Walkman out, find your Jeff Buckley tape and listen to your heart's content.  Just stop fucking whinging.  And let's face it, nobody would've even heard of Jeff Buckley if it hadn't been for Alexandra Burke singing the song as X Factor winner.

Jean genie

Last night, I tried some jeans on that I bought in 2006, they'd been consigned to the back of the wardrobe since summer 2007 because I'd grown too fat for them.  They're baggy now: arse crack-exposing baggy.

I celebrated by having Dominos pizza for tea.

And there's another thing.  Dominos must've delivered here about 4 or 5 times now and they STILL have to phone up to ask where I am.  I know this is a a new estate and the road's not on any maps yet, but don't you think they'd make a note of where these new places are when they deliver to them?

Nice pizza though.  Mighty meaty with extra jalapenos and black olives (no onions, I detest onions on pizza, but quite as much as I detest pineapple or peppers).