I’M NOT whoops caps, I’m not a Political crusader. I have no mission statement, no set ideas on how a person should live their life, or even an actual proper “opinion”. On “anything”. Instead I sort of drift through life ‘liking’ things. However, it’s coming close to the end of 2009, and therefore (for some weird maths/year length reason that my tiny weeny brain can’t understand) it’s also the end of the decade. I can tell this by never-ending lists that are set to be published everywhere except the Pope’s bum, because apparently that’s “sacred”. (For the record, don’t even bother asking the Vatican when it comes to advertising space, they were so unbelievably rude to us. Like, really rude). So with all these best album/artist/designer/cheese lists there are going to be a few who don’t make the cut. A few individuals who deserve their actions and vocal outpourings to be noticed, but you can bet your Pope’s bottom dollar that they won’t be.
Well, they wouldn’t have been, but this is Platform, and at Platform we like to do things a little differently. So here is our list of people who should be recognised for their contribution to this decade, but definitely won’t be. Although I can’t be bothered to think any further back than last year, so all of these names, and by all I mean FOUR, are pretty recent.
Peter Andre
I kind of think Peter Andre is the greatest person alive. I kind of think he’s the archetypal man. He’s got that wonderful mix of fake tan and complete lack of self-awareness, but at the heart of it all is, well, a good heart. When he was with Jordan Price he just sort of disappeared into the background, poking up his head every now at then behind her huge mass of multi-coloured hair, to say things like, “Me and Katie, we’re a team. No matter what happens we work it out together”. Then they broke up, she started dating a cage fighter who was a fan of weekend drag, and he stuck his chin (and pecs) out and managed to coast through with as much dignity as a slicked-up heterosexual man can muster. It doesn’t even matter that the album was unsurprisingly rubbish, or that the food he most strongly resembles is a toasted hot dog, he’s a winner. A winner with flaws, vanity, and an Antipodean background. Hence the ideal man to represent this county and decade (past 3 years).
Balloon Boy
Despite not actually flying in a magical space bubble, to me balloon boy will always be a hero. The ridiculous coverage his non-existant plight through the skies in a silver balloon warranted, from every major news broadcaster, said a lot about our world. Also, kudos at how perfectly they coincidended their publicity stunt with the release of ‘Up’. Balloon boy even looks like a thinner version of the kid in that movie. Anyway, I think the reason there was such outrage about a child murmuring, “umm…you guys said we did it for the show” was because, yes his parents are clearly fame obsessed mentalists who wouldn’t think twice about using one of their children to emotionally manipulate, but also that we fell for it. We got caught up in the idea that, “oh my GOD there’s a kid in there”, and relished the chance to perhaps see him emerge victorious, a slew of TV apperances and products following. Or, you know, realise he’d plummeted to his death, a slew of TV appearances and products for his parents following. So when we found out it wasn’t true there was of course outrage, but also that horribly feeling of stupidity you get when someone reveals that a straight-faced statement, “No honestly my dad is Charlie from Casualty, and I actually did a bit on that remix of the theme tune ‘Bound 4 Da Reload” was in fact a lie. Suddenly all the big news channels were huffing about, doing their version of, “I knew it wasn’t you singing RELOAD all along, no HONESTLY, I did”. Then in the final act of rejecting every single acceptable way to behave publicly, Balloon Boy was sick on Live TV. This kid is the Sid Vicious of reality television and he doesn’t even know it. I love him. (However his parents are clearly completely bat shit crazy and I worry for his future).
Malcolm Tucker
The sole reason to watch anything on the BBC is Malcolm Tucker. I only discovered ‘Thick of It’ recently (I’m one of those dildoing BASTARDS, as Tucker would say, who watched ‘In The Loop’ before seeing the TV series and said, “oooh that’s quite good, maybe I should check out the rest of their work”). So I did. At first, if I’m perfectly honest, I thought Tucker was a bit of a tart - I’m not going to use proper swears in this, simply because my flowery pansy pants offerings would pale in comparison to Tucker’s brilliance. I thought he was a bit two dimensional, little more than a cartoon bug-eyed scot with verbal diarrhea. How wrong I was. As the show progresses his character gains more and more layers, turning him into a sort of swearing onion, an onion with the capability to make all mother fudging fornicators cry. He’s also starting to lose it. The scene where he punched Glenn was insanely uncomfortable viewing, partly for the blood and Olly’s annoying chump face (seriously Olly is such a jumped-up little plonker), but also for the fact it introduced another side to Tuckshop. He’s human. He’s going to breakdown at some point, I guarantee it. I thought that frumpy frances Nichola had him this week when she started crying and picking holes in his soul. There was a brief moment when something, some weird compassionate look flickered across his eyes. Then he ripped her apart with the swears. Anyway, I can’t wait for that huge pricking fucker to lose it.
Joanna Lumley
The only woman on this brief, but thoroughly researched list, is here because she represents all of womankind. We here at Platform genuinely hold her in the highest esteem when it comes to ladyfolk. She is a heavenly creature who not only personified a sex bomb with intelligence, then old age slaggery in ‘Absolutely Fabulous’, but also stood side by side with the Gurkhas in their plight to gain the right to live in this fair country of ours. She also speaks like a bag of plums, and has weird stretchy skin that always looks a bit shiny, but in a good way. She’s old and blonde and we love her. In fact I love her so much I want to make a model of her out of potato and take it every where I go, illiciting weird looks from people on the tube, then one day when it’s all mouldy I’ll send it to her with a lock of my hair and a pint of my blood in a jam jar, the words YOU ARE MY PEACE AND MY GOLD AGE (or something else creepy and adoring) scrawled onto an old sanitary towel, and wait patiently by the front door for her to come and adopt me.
So that’s our list.
This would have been longer but I’ve been on the phone to bloody Orange, yes SERVICE PROVIDER ORANGE, HELLO SUPERVISOR DANNY SINCLAIR, all day trying to sort out getting a replacement for my broken phone. Apparently because I left near damp sheets, and hence it stopped working, that’s not ‘accidental damage’ (which is covered by insurance), but ‘lack of care’ (which isn’t covered by insurance). Me not care about my phone? I sleep with the thing next to me in bed, I honestly do. I check it more times than Bob checks his reflection in shop windows, which is a LOT. Anyway I think it’s fair to say I opened a ‘can of whoop ass’ on them, key phrases being, “this is just disgusting” (it’s really not. My phone not being covered by insurance isn’t really disgusting) and even stooping to, “Check your records. I think someone is up for contract renewal soon, am I right? Yeah well guess which customer won’t be giving you their money again”. When I’m stressed I say everything in a very long-winded, third person fashion. I eventually got my own shouty way, but at the expense of this list. Although it has provided me with the evidence to say this, Orange - THE PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER ORANGE AND SUPERVISOR DANNY SINCLAIR - will not make it onto any ‘best of’ list written by me. No fucking sireeeee. Although they have started doing the iPhone now, so I probably will renew my contract with them, since the iPhone is amazing - you can play Doom and Monkey Island on it omg.