Insider info and illuminati analysis...

...from the man they just can't recruit.

Monday 4 November 2013

Popstars of the Apocalypse Act 1 Scene 2

Act 1 Scene 2

The O No arena, a music venue built on a former toxic wasteland in the London marshes which has successfully reinvented itself as a toxic wasteland of culture. The female popstar Pl-attitude or ‘Player-attitude’ is onstage in front of 20 000 fans made up of teenage girls and mostly homosexual men.

Pl-attitudesingingHave you got what I need?

Dancers: Uh-uh! Uh-uh!

                       I’m not ashamed of it!

Backing singers: Skank!

Pl-attidude: Better get used to it.
                      When they’re down on me
                      I’m down on you
                      Then pin me up to the wall
                      And give it to me all!
                      Cos I’m a..

Backing singers:  Skank!

Pl-attidude:  Gonna sing and dance about it!
                       Let me be your

Backing singers:  skank!

Pl-attidude:  And you can be my bank.
                       I’m a car and  I’ll empty your tank.
                       Or let me give you a....

Backing singers:  Ah-ah!

The song ends and the crowd screams and cheers in robotic delirium. Pl-attitude surveys the crowd and then starts skipping around the stage as the music begins for her next song. Pla-attitude looks out at the crowd and starts her next number:
                   Na-na-nanana na!
The crowd react by screaming and jumping up and down. Several girls at the front are knocked over and trampled by the crowd who have now taken up the chant of ‘Na-na-nana-na!’
                  Na-na nana na!
The crowd are now all echoing the call of ‘na-na-nana na!’ except the half a dozen small girls who are trying to stop themselves getting trampled to death by what has now become a mindless 20,000 strong herd with one thought in its mind: ‘Na-na-nana na!’

Looking out at the crowd and Pla-attitude from the VIP salon are three gentlemen. One of the men walks over to the window and slides it closed reducing the noise from the concert.

Mr Hands: Thank God!

Second man: She’s totally certifiable you know that don’t you?

Trevor: Curiously Oh?

Second man: Drily Just look at her for a start. She feels the need to dance up and down a stage for over an hour in front of a group of children, whichever way you cut it, that’s strange behaviour. We can chalk down narcissistic personality disorder as a matter of course. But what else? Why does she need a room full of 20,000 teenagers to give her life meaning?  Isn’t that rather excessive? Most people are content with a couple of close friends to obtain their comfort. But of course, she doesn’t have any friends.  She has an emptiness inside her the size of Bournemouth.

Third man: No friends eh?

Mr Handspiping inOf course not. We don’t allow her to have them. Everyone who is close to here, including her present gentleman friend have all been put there by us.

Trevor: The Tailors?

Second man: languidlyWho else?

Trevor: But why?

Second man: Isn’t it obvious. She is a very high profile person. She has the media at her beck and call 24 hours a day. Her life is under constant scrutiny and so is she. That’s why there must be maximum control.

Trevor:  Over everything?

Mr Hands:  Don’t want her saying anything which isn’t on the script. No ad-libbing.

Second man: Certainly not. She has her lines and there they are gestures to the singer on the stage who is still singing Na-na-na.

Trevor:  What’s it all about though. Why do the tailors promote these troubled young people and make them into stars. Is it for money?
Mr Hands:  The money is more of a bonus than anything. She’s a holding fund. Her net assets of 40 million she never gets to touch. We give her pocket money. Her real fortune is used by us for our investments and shall we say, ‘expenses’.

Trevor:  So what else is behind it all then?

Second mancutting inWarfare my boy, warfare!

Trevor:  Warfare!?

Mr Hands: Yes indeed, we’re at war with the public.

Trevor:  Why?

Mr Hands: Because they outnumber us  100 to one. We’re the Spartans here. Fighting a barbarian horde by any means necessary. Most of the public if they knew who we were and what we got up to would hang us from the lampposts. That’s why we’ve got to distract them and give them something else to fuss about, preferably something totally meaningless. Better if it’s something which we can use to project OUR values on to them and make them think more like us.

Trevor:  Na-na-na?

Second mantaking overThat’s the meaningless part. Pure drivel. How can someone oppose us rationally and intellectually if all they can think of is ‘Na-na-na?’. But there’s more. If we can subvert their moral values to make them more like ours then what moral right do they have to oppose us? We are tunnelling beneath the moral high-ground which has been used to attack and denounce us for centuries. Now, as the public’s morality and imagination sink lower and lower they find themselves on the same level as us. If they don’t even have the wit and awareness to protect their children from this noxious and sexualising rubbish then they do not deserve the mercy we won’t give them anyway. They are happy to see their young children emulate these fallen-women but we’ve still got some way to go before they have to complete moral freedom we enjoy, but we’re getting there. The next stage is the biggest of all. A task so difficult and a change in perception so radical that from the present view point it would appear impossible. But we know that nothing is impossible because we have done so many impossible things before. We have committed the most duplicitous and reprehensible impostures upon the human race in the name of our war. We have achieved glorious victories when crushing defeat seemed the most logical outcome.

Trevor:  So what is the next step?

Mr Hands: Ahh, I can’t tell you yet. You’re not cleared for than information.

Second man: Suffice it to say, that it’s not only policemen who are getting younger.

Mr Hands:grinningDeftly managed.

Second man: Would you like to meet Miss Plattitude?

Trevor: Not particularly.

Mr Hands: Too bad, you’re going to. That’s why you’re here.

Trevor: Oh really, I was wondering about that. I suppose my niece will be impressed if we can get a photo taken together.

Mr Hands: I know the set-list like an ugly scar on the back of my hand, she’ll come off for a two minute break after this one while she changes her costume. Let’s go backstage.

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I'm on FIRE with dat TROOF.

I'm on FIRE with dat TROOF.
Kundalini refugee doing a bit of landscaping.