If we now consider Band Aid ‘patronising’, surely then logic is: Shut food banks and charity shops
SADLY, the world is full of starving people – and stuffed to the brim with ungrateful ones.
The furore over the 40th anniversary “ultimate mix” AI version of Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? shows us all that is strange, mad, bad and down-right pathetic about our Woke New World — one where we somehow manage to find fault in just about EVERYTHING.
So now, a tuneful little ditty about raising a glass to everyone has been branded disgusting and evil and patronising and we-should-all-hang-our-heads-in-shame-for-ever-for-finding-it-nice-and-melodic. Or, even worse, we bought it.
Because, apparently, our charity is doing more harm than good.
First, British-Ghanaian Afrobeats star Fuse ODG said the lyrics “perpetuate damaging stereotypes that stifle Africa’s economic growth, tourism and investment [and] fuel pity rather than partnership.”
This prompted Ed Sheeran to then chime in: “My approval wasn’t sought on this new Band Aid 40 release, and had I had the choice I would have respectfully declined the use of my vocals.
“A decade on, and my understanding of the narrative has changed.”
So Ed, a man who went to court last year to deny plagiarising Marvin Gaye’s song Let’s Get It On, complains about his vocals being used without permission. Hmmm.
And now Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has suggested that while Sir Bob Geldof’s humanitarian commitment is laudable, it is “frustrating to see our nation’s ancient history, culture, diversity and beauty reduced to doom and gloom”.
Bob Geldof, pop’s wokest man — a chap who looks like he doesn’t shower, to conserve water — is being cancelled.
By this logic, we should scrap all charity shops, all food banks, all charities, full stop, lest they be seen as “patronising” or, I dunno, part of the patriarchy.
The term “white saviorism” is being bandied around, and anyone who downloads this latest re-release isn’t feeding young, malnourished children or distributing mosquito nets. Oh no, they’re patronising an entire continent.
Bob Geldof, pop’s wokest man — a chap who looks like he doesn’t shower, to conserve water — is being cancelled.
But as he pointed out, this song has raised almost £150million for relief in Ethiopia. (Fun fact: The only reason Ethiopia didn’t feature in the lyrics was because it contained too many syllables to fit the melody.)
For those criticising it, what, precisely, have you done? How much money have YOU raised for charity?
Sure, there are problematic aspects to Band Aid.
Much of the monies raised got wasted and used inefficiently, and the global 1985 Live Aid concert reportedly helped line the pockets of Ethiopia’s corrupt government — something Bob has furiously denied.
Brilliant endeavour
The lyrics themselves aren’t ideal.
Newsreader Michael Buerk intones: “This is hell on earth”, which seems both a little hyperbolic, and mean.
If someone penned a tune describing my home as “hell on earth”, I’d be raging too.
“There won’t be snow in Africa this Christmas time” is also, technically, not spot on — there will be in Ethiopia’s Semien Mountains — whilst “nothing ever grows, no rain or river flows” is a little insulting to the farmers of West Africa, who produce 70 per cent of the world’s chocolate-making cocoa.
Sure, cynics might suggest some of the celebs desperate to get front and centre of previous single covers may have been self-serving, but so what?
Whatever their reasoning, this is not a Captain Tom situation.
No monies raised have been poured into a snazzy swimming pool out in Sir Bob’s garden.
This was, and continues to be, a brilliant, well-meaning endeavour, and the reality is people are still starving and living in horrendous, grossly unfair poverty.
Why pretend they’re not?
Instead of turning our backs on a problem and hoping it’ll go away, shouldn’t we be praising something that spreads both cheer and some awareness?
Izzard to tell: Who’s Eddie and who’s Denise?
NOW, Denise Welch is a very versatile performer. The West End, Corrie, panto, Loose Women . . . there’s seemingly no end to her talent.
But should the thespian well ever run dry, fear not Den, a career as a lookalike beckons.
Over the weekend, a pop website breathlessly ran a story about American chat show host Ellen DeGeneres moving to the UK – accompanied by a pic of Denise.
The previous week, another site wrote a gushing review of Hollywood actress Renee Zellweger’s “tour de force” performance as Judy Garland – beside a photo of Denise.
In September, a regional newspaper excitedly wished US superstar Pink a happy 45th birthday – yep, above another photo of our Den.
And, last but not least, Denise regularly gets mixed up with another star, one closer to home: Eddie Izzard.
Still, you win some and lose some.
SAD to read about the death of John Prescott, a rare breed of politician – genuinely passionate and memorable.
A bruiser of a man, but one with heart, he liked a drink and, unlike many, never took himself too seriously.
One year, at a Christmas party with my Labour-supporting former paper, I was dragged up to sing karaoke with John.
From hazy memory, we performed a tuneless rendition of It’s Not Unusual and, to my horror, was later told I twerked him. RIP, Prezza x
So, my dying wish…
POLITICIANS remain divided on how to vote on Friday’s Assisted Dying Bill.
For me, it’s really very simple.
We put our beloved pets down when they want to die, we write wills when we’re alive because we like to plan for death, and we take drugs to combat whatever fresh hell – cancer, MND, dementia, etc – that Mother Nature decides to throw at us.
So why shouldn’t we have the final word on Mother N by deciding when we die?
I do not want to be hooked up to tubes, machines inflating my lungs and puréed vitamins coursing through my veins, while making the state – or whatever poor family I’m relying on – foot my bill. Because that’s not living.
Sure, there are cases where it could be abused – but that’s for lawyers to finesse, to protect us all.
Over to Times writer Caitlin Moran for the final word: “One of my greatest joys is walking away from a party I’m not enjoying.
“Everyone should be able to say when they leave.
“Let me call my taxi; let them dance when I sleep.”
Trans tripe
DONALD TRUMP reportedly plans to issue an executive order on his first day in office to ban transgender members of the military.
It would cause around 15,000 active service personnel to be “medically discharged”.
If ever there was a policy about cutting off your nose to spite your face, surely this is it.
If he doesn’t like the idea of trans women serving, he should rethink his previous arguments that they have a physical, biological advantage.
Surely this is precisely what any army would want?
And at a time when the US is struggling with military recruitment anyway, to lose so many – presumably trusted, competent servants – seems mad.
And is yet another example of persecuting a tiny minority for political point-scoring.
KUDOS to Demi Moore for her latest film, The Substance, where she shows an absolute disregard for any personal vanity whatsoever.
She plays an ageing TV aerobics instructor who injects an elixir of youth to give her back her 25-year-old self.
It’s a cross between Death Becomes Her and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray.
A drooling, sagging and collagen-lite Demi gives a fine performance in this very grisly satire.
Walkie all the talkie
BIASED I may be, or am, but this week’s Meme of the Week features my own flesh and blood.
On Saturday night my pal Phil, a content creator and influencer, fed up with my desultory attempts to engage, decided to make my miniature dachshund Dora a social media star.
Within eight hours, she had 100 followers (it’s a start, OK).
The next day, a meme of a reel played to a backdrop of Carmina Burana: O Fortuna, featuring the dog being veritably dragged out for a walk, had received 10,000 views and counting. Messages started dripping in.
“Welcome to the world of Dogfluencing!” read one, excitedly.
“Dora is going to become HUGE,” said another new dogfluencer friend.
Within minutes, Dora also had her very first offer of a brand collaboration.
Yup, a dog nutrition company called Scrumpf asked to send Dora a range of herbal supplements to aid her digestion and keep her calm in the face of DHL workers, postmen and Chihuahuas.
Granted, she’s yet to receive her first paid endorsement, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.