When I was a small boy one Paul Francis Gadd asked me repeatedly if I wanted to join his gang. At the time a tin foil suit and platform heels seemed like an intriguing proposition.
With a hairbrush in place of a microphone, sticky play felt replacing facial side-burns, wide corduroy flares with a patch on the knee, a sponge on my head and wearing my mother’s high heels, I was, for a short while, in said gang.
Well, let me tell you Mr. Gadd, aka disgraced former pop star and convicted paedophile Gary Glitter, I emphatically do not want to join your gang. In fact, please can you take your sick, twisted self and your gang of perverts (which probably includes disgraced former DJ Jonathan King), into a locked concrete bunker and bury yourselves at the bottom of the ocean. Git – with your little whispy white beard, bald head and shifty evil eyes.
Glitter may be the Leader of the Gang, but it certainly ain’t any gang of mine. Come on Come on.
3 Comments
And to think, Slaughterhouse 5 used to do a spirited cover version of My Gang. (Hangs his head in shame.)
Oh, and let me tell you: there’s nothing wrong with facial side-burns. It’s the other kind you have to look out for.
What are the other types of side-burns? I used to love your cover of My Gang - great crowd reaction - bet it’d be a different kind of reaction nowadays.