Pick of the Political Pops: Big Star “Don’t Lie To Me”

 

Mirroring the country at large our own election process is in full swing as you know and the position of Editorship is up for grabs. We have had the ballot papers printed – featuring just the one name obviously – and we have been having a fulsome and detailed hustings. Unfortunately The Editor was unable to attend citing reasons of utter apathy but we like to think that we carried the torch in his absence and that our democratic process is going swimmingly. So swimmingly that we have decided to let you, our dear reader, have a vote or votes of your own. You can’t vote for The Editorship but you can let your feelings be known about other stuff that has happened this year by heading over to our Official Best Of Year page.

For our own part it was going off without a hitch until Andrei, the one time Romanian accordion playing busker but now Head of Communications@AUK , decided to go rogue and titivate our social media platforms. He was acting in all good faith (his officially sanctioned translator said) but the fall out of his actions may come back to haunt us. We did have a perfectly usable Twitter account called, imaginatively, “Americana-UK”. We have somehow managed to switch that to “Death Metal GB”. It’s still full of bollocks but we are, apparently, saving the public from itself by filtering out the bollix bollocks and cutting straight through to the fucking ballbag bollocks. Andrei thought it would be ok because in very, very, very small print it said AUK somewhere in the very, very, very complex terms of agreement. Similarly our Facebook page, yep – you guessed it – Americana-UK, has been redesigned and is now entitled “TripHop-EU”. We are reliably informed that it is now the go-to place in order to filter out the fucking ballbag bollocks and cut straight to the absolute bollocks of bollocks magnitude. We are very excited at this new development and have started to hide our assets off-shore in case the internet Gestapo come sniffing around. Obviously we pay them handsomely to mind their own fucking business but who can you trust nowadays? As it goes we trust Vadim, our Russian friend who asks nothing more than a half of lager, a packet of cheese and onion and several high denomination notes secured in a brown envelope at our weekly meetings in our local pub ‘The Banjo and Cancer’. Vadim’s guys can do a proper job, we understand, that even Andrei is incapable of comprehending. Both are useful idiots but as long as our subliminal message gets across we don’t care. We can’t be doing with liars after all, eh?

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