Auseinander - Apart

Apart from this very use of the word, I’m struggling to write anything for this entry. I suppose love will tear us apart could be a convenient excuse to mention Joy Division and the upcoming thirtieth anniversary of their landmark album Unknown Pleasures, released in June 1979. But I won’t, because I’d only earn your contempt as it inevitably turns into a Curtis bum-lick-fest with less gags than a made-for-ITV sitcom. And nobody wants to witness a textual account of necrophilic anilingus. Well, some people might, but I’m sure there’s plenty of subscribable websites that’ll do a far better job. So, instead I’ll do the second cheapest thing when inspiration is thin on the ground: break it down. In case you’re wondering, the first is to simply write about my inspiration being thin on the ground, followed by me questioning the point of this whole exercise and blah blah blah. It’s been done before and probably will make another tiresome appearance soon. Anyway, on with the breakdown. A part of me really wants to pick apart the Sterophonics for pretty much everything they’ve done in the last ten years. Word Gets Around is a cracking album and Performance and Cocktails has its moments too, but everything since has been so utterly and turdily dull, I’m amazed that during recording and performing they haven’t bored themselves to death. Instead of releasing Decade in the Sun: The Best of Stereophonics last year, they could have saved thousands of trees (blank CDs do grow on trees, right?) by just telling everyone to buy their first two albums again. But I suppose it’s not up to me. Anyway, all this talk of shit has suddenly made another part of me intrigued to find out who is into this whole necrophilic anilingus lark. Not necessarily to make friends or bum, rather more out of a morbid fascination as to what these people look like. Especially with a thirty year old corpse - it’d have to be pickled or mummified in some way for there to be anything left to lovingly tongue. I don’t imagine poo tastes that great inside a live shitbox, let alone one soaked in vinegar for three decades. Can’t say I’m aching to sample either any time soon, so any concerned rectums - dead or alive - can breath a collective sigh of relief. Just keep that Glade Plug-in cranked to the max.