FUCK YOU hoople twerple purple nipple pretentious pansy gender bender bozos

I hope this won't sound too insensitive.

But FUCK YOU dead assholes that people are crying about. FUCK YOU, people that are crying about dead assholes.

The assholes? The latest are BOWIE, Smiley and Muffin. Puffin. Pipkin. Gherkin. Whatever his fucking name is.

Completing a trifecta of Who Gives A Fuck, some asshole from one of the worst-named bands in the history of rock finally disappeared up his own asshole.

This guy was such a "Lord of the Boot Sale," he looked at senility as a great way to get into the papers. Which he did back in 2010. What? Got a brain-addle disease? Hey hey! Take my picture while I do my best ERIC IDLE smirk!

IF I'M BEING HONEST, dementia has always been part of the rock star's repertoire.

Dementia means you wear tarty ridiculous outfits, sing pointless pretentious piffle-bits and gnome nonsense, and titter about pretending you're important.

When people say "You must be bonkers," you grin like it's a compliment.

Blowie, well, he stole from everyone didn't he, grabbing from Anthony Newley, Jayne County, Warhol, Asshol, you name it. As long as he had that adorably slim build, "such white skin," wonky eyes and fake-up carrot hair, a modicum of listenability was all he needed. That's all there was.

Need I even mention how utterly mediocre and inter-changeable his songs were? T-Rex could've done "Suffragette City," and Peter Gabriel could've done "Putting Out Fire with Gasoline," and Blowie could've done "Bang a Gong" or "I'm a lawnmower, you can tell me by the way I walk."

All the same bits of gamey grit in the stew.

Who else croaked? Poor Butterfly Brett. Don McLean (arrested the other day for domestic assault) would've crooned, "the world was too sensitive for youuuuuu." Yeah, another drug and sex casualty we're all supposed to mourn.

And now? Now idiots are e-mailing me about Stale Muffin? Muffin?? Isn't that The Bore of the Boot Sale's fucking dog?

I never bought or listened to that fucking "Mott the Hoople," just on name alone. Hoople?

The word may have meant something in England, but it meant nothing elsewhere. So, some Pilgrim's Progress bullshit book is about some apple named Mott, who is turning into a Hoople? Not a Bilbo? Not a Baggins? Not a Laughing Gnome?

Man, I do NOT dig HIPSTERS who invent terms for anyone, whether it's straights or bent-up freaks like themselves. Who the hell ARE you jerks, to label anyone? What, we need a whole world of hipsters? Don't we need some hooples to do the laundry, drive the bus, and figure the tax forms so we don't land in jail?

So a glam band decides the title of a book would make a good name for a band? HOW ORIGINAL.

Glam-rock? For fucks sake, that was over 30 years ago! It was shit even then. Hunter was an also-ran. This junk hasn't been a factor in several generations. Can anyone name ONE of their songs? I can't. He wasn't even Graham Parker.

This Muffin guy was what, the drummer? I don't think he came up with anything that even rivaled the infamous Ringo solo on "Abbey Road." Shitty progrock...the singer stunk, the music stunk, the lyrics stunk, so the drummer was...good? Here's another clue for you all, the drummer usually was the most offensive idiot of the lot. Think about the schmuck who played with The Who, and the jerk who played with Cream.

If there was any likelihood that the moron's family would be reading this, I would've changed "pretentious pansy," because he was married. That's about it. The truth won't fade away (although Boko Harum won't either, so let's not expect intelligent slogans from rock songs). The truth is that most of the 70's shit is firmly wedged in cardboard boxes in charity shops and nobody's buying. Stupid names don't help. Not Jethro Trull. Not Butt the Boople.

I have my own troubles, and people who are carrying on about Blowie, Brett Smelly, and this Barfin guy, well, I wish them MASSIVE TROUBLES to take their minds off TRIVIA.