Suddenly it's hip to be anti-war. Six months ago, when the rest of us were having to put up with, "We saved your bony butts during World War Two," and, "Something has to be done otherwise Saddam could kill us all in our beds with his Anthrax-stuffed-in-a-sock bombs," etc the majority of the Great British public were siding with George "The Butcher of Texas" Bush and Tony "The Butcher of British Socialism" Blair...God bless 'em and their little cotton thongs.
Then came the arguments. The statements of the obvious for the lateral thinkers. The history lessons and the morality. Collateral damage took on a new and more realistic meaning. Those of us who'd been arguing against this blatant act of aggression found ourselves in an interesting new position. For once in the political minefield that is right-wing Britain, common sense was starting to win ground. The newspapers were forced to shift opinion or suffer sales losses. The protest marches (whilst not swaying the government's position...and let's face it, whoever realistically thought they would?) suddenly highlighted the fact that most right thinking people in this septic isle had seen the light and were willing to stand up in the name of resistance no matter how futile that might be.
Then came the Brit Awards.
Always controversial...always pathetic. Appealing to the emotionally stunted, the adolescent minded and the desperately shallow.
And suddenly the brats are shouting, "Thanks for this award! None of us are going to live to appreciate it if Bush gets his way. But it's one heck of bang to go out on." ("On which to go out," you illiterate morons!)
And so the anti-war movement gets set back by at least twelve months as the opportunistic, gate-crashing, gravy-train riding molluscs of the music industry surf the tide of genuine public opinion with their own brand of cash-in enterprise.
On the one hand it's good to have the 'influential teeny poppers' backing the cause. But opinion generated purely for the sake of sales is almost as worthless as the mass manufactured crap that's being digitally pulped from their lucrative studios. Fair dinkum to George Michael, mind. He's been complaining about this farce since before September the Eleventh. He was hounded out of America and back to Blighty with death threats from war-loving, gun-toting decent American citizens for his song about Blair and Bush if memory serves. But as to the rest of them...baggy trousered, rap-crapping retards with smooth chins and photogenic, unthreatening, sexually ambiguous, androgynous faces...morons thrust into the limelight with the political understanding of boiled whelks and the sort of mentality that only Barrymore could love...well, seriously!
Fair do to the literate, the right minded, moral and thoughtful amongst them. But "fuck off and pester somebody else" to the Stock, Aitkin and Waterman simpletons whose political dishes consist of "fame, fortune and idolisation to impress our lesser-spotted school chums" without being able to argue a single issue either in favour of or against the impending disaster.