Wednesday, 27 June 2012

The Dirt: A Real Classic

I just picked this off the shelves, a book to be handled with caution, a lesson, something like The Bible, but somehow inverted, full of verses to learn from, but in a really perverted way. I used to come home to find Scott engrossed in this on his lunch break between attempting ply panneling. He would acknowledge that 'The Dirt' is a truly great book, but in it's fabulous summit, a monument to collossal, and I mean collossal, error, it becomes a totally obligatory lesson, like some sacred text. I've had distinguished editors shouting 'Read this book!' as they commissioned me. It's just a shame that no matter how many mint copies I buy for said library from E-Bay, the pages always fall out. It's like the book self destructs just like the characters themselves. I'll have to keep buying it forever, even when I've bought a 'hardback' with proper binding, it's turned out not to be, pushed by some numpty in South Shields for his next hit of smack. But it is absolutely brilliant nontheless, and ANYBODY who has the faintest bit of interest in modern culture should read it. There are bits which are so ridiculous, the satanic bits especially, which have you rolling on the floor, but most of it is just a jaw dropping story of four fuckwits with hearts of gold, who made a couple of great records (Dr Feelgood, Girls Girls Girls at least) and got monumentally fucked up in the process. It has elements of Scott Fitzgerald meeting Confucious, if Confucious were a fourteen year old high on chicken nuggets and tamazepam.

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