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MrPleasant
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Voodoo?
I was cornered by a man with what can only be described as yellow hair in my local gin palace last week, something which perturbed me greatly. I dislike being cornered at the best of times, but when I have to fear not only for my life but a prime glass of Bombay Sapphire and Schweppes my battle skills are somewhat impared. However with my free hand I managed to tug on his ridiculously scraggy beard and ask why he was disturbing the peace of the juniper berry.
“The Beach Boys” he breathlessly forced out, as I applied pressure on his thorax. “They must be your weakness.”
I finished the fool off with a quick knee to the solar plexus and removed his No Fear T-Shirt, rightly thinking that he would have no need for it anymore, having looked fear in the face and been very, very afraid. But he did leave me and Sapphire musing (for which do not mean making terrible records in the style of Anyone Can Play Guitar). You see the truth is I have never really considered the Beach Boys worthy of my aprobation. A couple of surfer dudes, a madman and a dead guy really should not concern me. And their record – and indeed records – speak for themselves. Especially “Fun Fun Fun”.
As a child I was always wary about anything which advertised itself as Fun Fun Fun. As far as I could understand things could only really be Fun, and most things described as fun were not even that. Where is the fun in a fun sized Mars Bar? Where is the Fun in Fun by The Blue Aeroplanes (I’ll tell you that actually, watching their “dancer” spazzing out and knocking the half arsed Gerard Langley into the drum kit). Ripping the wings off of beatles is fun, as is ripping the piss out of The Beatles – and Wings. The day I had my first gin and tonic is about the only time I have experienced Fun Fun. But never have I reached level three of fun, the so called nirvana of Fun that the Beach Boys made it to.
So let us examine what it is that creates the third degree of fun? the clue is in the line
“And we’ll have fun fun fun til your daddy takes the T-Bird away”.
T-Bird can only be short for Thunderbird. Yes, this song is merely the Beach Boys paean to underage drinking. You can see them hanging round phone boxes with their acned faces sureptitiously sipping from litre bottles of this foul fortified wine. Being lary to honest decent citizens whilst their young brains go wild on this nasty cocktail. It probably led to Dennis Wilson glue sniffing round the bike sheds whilst Mike Love graduated on to two litre bottles of Strongbow and Spesh. As for loopy old Brian Wilson – the reason Smile was never released is nothing to do with a nervous breakdown. What do you think the 20/20 on bottles of Mad Dog actually means? Its the number of years it takes simpletons to recover from the hangover.
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