Where Were You When The Fun Stopped?

First things first: you will have seen where my old mucker Adam Clayton has sold off his collection of Persian carpets. There has been much comment in the press about this but, of course, all the mainstream hacks have missed the real significance of the story. So let Sam say it loud and clear: the rugs don’t work.

Right, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I want to return to the growing threat posed by the Anti-Happiness League.
Over in the States, when they’re not trying to ban same- sex marriage – which, for the record, is much healthier than some-sex marriage or no-sex-at-all marriage – or getting their rocks off by voting a bunch of bible-bashing, war-mongers into office, they’re determined to clear the airwaves of filth.
To them, Sam would simply like to say: arseholes, bastards, fucking cunts and pricks. Persons of quality and distinction will immediately recognise the words – they came from the mouth and pen of the late great Ian Dury on his classic ‘New Boots And Panties’ back in ’77.
Ian – another top mate of mine, incidentally – was once asked why he’d opened a track with such a robust mouthful. He didn’t like bad language, he explained, so he decided to get it all out of the way at one go.
What a chap. But imagine if he was around now and trying to get that wonderful album some airplay in the States – such is the climate of repression in the big country that he’d probably be lifted from his home at dead of night and spirited off in an unmarked private plane to Guantanemo Bay, to be roundly beaten on the soles of his feet with rubbers hoses. Or, worse, made to listen to Metallica.

Expensive Fuck
Latest bad tidings from the States are that the Feds plan to increase fines for bad language on the airwaves, from $27,000 dollars to – and I swear I’m not making this up – $500,000 per violation. Half a million bucks for one ‘fuck’? Jeez, not even Sam charges that much. What’s more, the Feds want the “individual offender” and not just the station to be fined.
There was a time when Parental Advisory Stickers seemed to be about as bad as it would get. Now, Tipper Gore is starting to look like a flat-out, counter-culture outlaw. But then the new clampdown has been booming along the turnpike for quite a while now – even Saint Bono got himself in hot water for saying ‘fuck’ at a televised awards ceremony and when, at the Superbowl, Janet Jackson exposed a left tit – not to be confused with brother Michael, a right tit – the moral guardians almost imploded at the unspeakable debauchery of it all.
Now Sam hears that shock-rock deejay Howard Stern has been driven off the terrestrial airwaves and out into far reaches of satellite broadcasting, the better to indulge his rude predilections. As it happens, Howie is a complete twat but since any enemy of the Anti-Happiness League is a friend of Sam’s, I’ll be the first to join him on the spacewaves for a bit of vile sex talk or whatever he else fancies. Jesus H. Christ, anything is better than Liveline.
Which brings me back to dear old Oirland and increasing signs that the AHL is on manoeuvres here as well. Only the other day, the Ombudsman came out against binge drinking, loutish behaviour and handbags that cost five grand. For fuck’s sake, what else is there to live for? The great Om had the answer: we should all tiptoe back to church.
To which Sam replies: no we fucking well shouldn’t. Whatever the current problems we face – and in a globe currently squeezed by religious loonies east and west who base their daft competing philosophies on a couple of very old books, I would humbly suggest that getting shit-faced is the least of them – they won’t be solved by an atavistic reversion to base superstition.

Dread Warnings
When the AHL aren’t trying to curtail our fun, they’re busy spooking us into a state of fear. No, make that a State Of Fear. Once upon a time, there was great stuff like that woman getting jiggy with the Shake ‘n’ Vac but nowadays the ad-breaks are almost entirely given over to dread warnings.
Did you know that if you don’t learn how to swim you could be one of the five million people who drown in Ireland every second? That if you don’t have a smoke alarm you’ll end up with no roof? That if you don’t wear a seat-belt you’ll “do all the damage”? That if you smoke a cigarette – just one mind - white gooey stuff will come out your ears? And that if you don’t wash that carrot thoroughly, you could end up poisoning your whole family (which can cause acute social embarrassment, apparently).
And let’s not forget (all together now): water is much more powerful than you’ll ever be.
Shit, there goes my plan to challenge the Pacific Ocean to some thumb-wrestling.
Well, we can laugh. At least while it’s still illegal . But between the twin forces of fear and repression, it won’t be long before people are asking each other: where were you when the fun stopped? And don’t say Uncle Sam didn’t warn ya.
Your ever lovin’ Samuel J. Snort Esq