Johnny Cigs’ Xmas Message

Bar Humbug to all pop Grinches!

So Brave Sir Cliff has failed in his bid to be Christmas Number One. Hoorah! Deck the halls with boughs of holly! tra la la la la la la la la! At the last minute, those bastions of good honest old fashioned British rock’n’roll values Westlife nobly stepped in to save the day, and avoid what would quite clearly have been an unspeakable disaster and a national disgrace.

So instead of that awful, offensive, repugnant, record, we have Westlife. Doing an unspeakably anodyne, choking-on-saccharine cover of an Abba song. Or if that’s a little too tasteful for you, there’s a double A-side of Terry Jacks’ ‘Seasons In The Sun’, a song, lest we forget, about saying goodbye to friends and family before you commit suicide! Happy Christmas, and see you in the afterlife!

In other words, the Westlife number one is every bit as awful as Cliff’s. And John Lennon’s drippy hippy anthem ‘Imagine’ is almost as insufferable at number three.

So why is it Cliff who gets all the abuse? Why have the normally wouldn’t-say-boo-to-a-goose George Michael and Mel C suddenly got up in arms, along with countless crappy tabloid pop columnists?

Because he’s the easiest target in the history of pop. Fancy a bit of crediblity? Just slag Cliff! Need some self-promotion to perk up sluggish record sales? Just slag Cliff! Want people to think that you are diametrically opposed to the kind of cynical, come-on-Grandma-if-you-only-buy-one-single-this-Christmas marketing tactics that you yourself have used time and time again? Just slag Cliff!

The reality, of course, is a national ‘black’ calling week for the nation’s kettles to one slightly bewildered looking pot. Hypocrites, every last one of them.

Of course Christmas records are naff. Of course they’re cynically marketed towards that crucial 8-80 year olds market. Welcome to the ruthless, cut-throat modern world of marketing, suckers! One that’s only been in operation for around half a bloody decade…

And meanwhile, all those noble, outspoken warriors for truth and justice are probably going out and buying copies of their own records, they’re so bloody desperate. Meanwhile, the Great British public will mysteriously fail to follow suit, having already seen through them as the worthless charlatans they are. And I’m not talking about Tiny Tim Burgess either!

Johnny Cigarettes