Is Shit the New Good?
Slothful Barman: [After chatting to his mates in the corner for a couple of minutes and then ambling in my direction like it was some sort of chore] Whatcha after?
What am I after? What is my desire? How about an afternoon in a locked Hilton room with all the members of Girls Aloud (except the ginger one) and a big pile of coke?
Or an assurance that my children will always see me as ‘Dad’ and never the hugely fallible ‘man’ I actually am? (Although I fear that ship has already sailed.)
Failing that how about a Travelodge with Holly Willoughby?
Failing all of that, how about a fucking drink?
I obtain my drink and find myself a quiet table. Somebody puts a song on the jukebox.
It’s quite good. Interesting guitar riff, not ripped-off from anyone. Lyrics concerning the essential emptiness of modern icons. And how they are merely useless tools of capitalilism. The essentially empty nature of advertising and commercialism.
Who is this radical band, you would think. The Manics? The Whoever Else Who Is A Bit Gobby?
Genesis. Phil Collins. Genesis.
I finish my drink and leave.
Later that evening I listen to the debut album of Del Amitri and am stunned by the level of insight that would not even see the light of day today. It is a Shit Record. But it is Very Good.
I physically prevent myself from listening to my old Lloyd Cole and the Commotions records. Because they are properly shit. But also very good compared to the output of, I don’t know, Pete Doh- no. Forget it. Too easy.
Tired Mam: Was he up for long last night?
It is a sensible question regarding the well-being of Favourite Son. Unfortunately, I have no idea what she is talking about. I decide to front it.
Me: Em. Not long.
TM: Oh good.
It seems that Favourite Son suffered some unrest during the night. And that I resolved it. Without fully Waking Up myself. Or remembering. Because I was sleeping.
Does this mean I am Shit? As a Father? Or so Good I can actually resolve things without even being fully awake?
And is Shit the new Good?