Times are tough for everyone, and that includes impressionists. But their hard times are not caused by the recession, but because of Barack Obama.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Rory Bremner, 65. “I’ve got three kids, a mortgage… I’ve been making a living impersonating these guys for twenty years. Jesus, things were so good in the Bush years, I even left the BBC!”
“Now what am I supposed to do? Black up?”
Bremner claims to have the impression down pat, excepting that one fatal flaw. But why not just do the impression white?
“I tried it,” Bremner sighs,”And no one knew who it was.”
And Bremner is not alone. Becoming an impressionist seems to be a uniquely white phenomenon, from John Sessions to Vincent van Gogh.
Ronni Ancona stood to make a killing if Hilary Clinton was elected. As things stand, she is reliant on the rapidly diminishing scraps from the Sarah Palin ticket. Roni, a proud Scot, relectantly admits that she is preparing to impersonate Kerry Katona to keep food on her family’s table.
Brethren and Sistren, be strong. Michael is gone, but soon he will join the Chapel of Dead Rock Stars, where, all being right in the world, Lennon will give him a good telling off. Do not allow this to upset the mission of the C:O:C at Glastonbury this weekend - the fans need love more than ever. Give them a Thriller, Thriller night. I’m looking at the man in the mirror - but it’s too late to make the change now.
I have now been in the basement for more than a week. I have not seen sunlight in this time, and while Alex Jones and Coldplay continue to soothe my troubled soul, I am growing extremely tired of Level 42’s Greatest Hits - which I have come to realise, were there any accuracy in the world, it be a CD single.
According to Rapture Ready, Armageddon is closer than ever, but all anyone seems concerned about is some insane antisemite octogenarian who thought he was back in the trenches for a moment.
Yet I have had much time for analysing Chris’s lyrics, and it does seem that he predicted the present parousia:
Can’t you feel it coming? Can’t you hear that sound? (Gravity)
How long must we wait for it?(In My Face) - Not long now!
I want to live in a wooden house(We Never Change) - Maybe he’ll get his wish soon!
And there are many more. But listening again to Viva la Vida and Prospekt’s March, I was struch by how many of the songs from those sessions concern a post-apocalyptic world:
Smoke is rising from the houses
People burying their dead(Prospekt’s March)
Then there was rain
The sound foundations are crumbling
Through the ground comes a bit of a-tumbling (Rainy Day)
There’s a cold war coming
On the radio I heard
Baby it’s a violent world(Life in Technicolor II)
From the windows they were watching
While we froze down below
When the future’s architectured
By a carnival of idiots on show
You’d better lie low (Violet Hill)
We get a picture of a world where it is dark and raining permanently (perhaps Gotham City?). The good survivors huddle on rooftops or in alleyways when not burying the dead, and the baddies - the Catholics, the Bankers, the Scientologists and Coldplaying.com - watch them through surveilance cameras. Time seems to have come unstuck. Is the tribulation immanent, or is the tribulation always immanent, waiting until humanity falls asleep and time becomes soft enough for it to become manifest?:
Time came a-creepin’
Oh and time’s a loaded gun
Every road is a ray of light
It goes o-o-on (Life in Technicolor II)
And time was just floating away
We can watch it and stay (Rainy Day)
I ask somebody what the time is
But time doesn’t matter to them yet (Prospekt’s March)
Yet Chris’s role in this is clear in the repeated phrase which signifies his acceptance of his Holy Office - “Now my feet don’t touch the ground”:
I could hear it coming
Like a serenade of sound
Now my feet won’t touch the ground (Life in Technicolor II)
Now my head won’t stop
You wait a lifetime to be found
Now my feet won’t touch the ground (Now my feet won’t touch the ground)
Cold, cold water, bring me round
Now my feet won’t touch the ground(Strawberry Swing)
That’s all for now. I have to go and eat my can of beans and mini sausages before it gets dark. That’s when the rats come out.
Down here in my bunker, I feel a little like Gordon Brown: as the world outside seems close to collapse, I am buffetted by threats of party dissolution and accusations of weak leadership and feeblemindedness. An act of contrition is what is called for. But more on that later…
For now, the results of the latest poll:
Another closely contested competition, the result of which is that from now on, members of the Church of Chris Martin shall be officially known as Martinites. Viva!
Now, much like Gordon Brown being forced to concede to UKIP after the embarrasing European Election results, I offer this latest poll as an act of contrition to the dispossed members of the assembly. Let the Martinites decide!
And that doesn’t even matter! Even the ever-reliable Fox News says it’s ALL OVER!
Not only that, but it seems that the accursed Coldplaying.com have CURSED Coldplay’s current tour - causing Chris to burn himself and the rains to come every night - in an attempt to discredit and divide the Righteous Church of Chris Martin.
The reason that things have been so quiet around here of late is that I have been converting a corner of my cellar into a bunker - not easy, due to my disability (acute corpulence). I’ve got a mattress, a camp stove and a bunch of weapons, and I’m going out this afternoon to stock up on bottled water and canned food. I’ve fixed it so I can get the internet down there, so I can continue to report the coming apocalypse, direct from my trusty laptop to the world, via thechurchofchrismartin.com!
I’m going to have lots of free time, however, and as Alex Jones only broadcasts four hours a day, I intend to devote much of the coming days to an in-depth scouring of Chris’s lyrics, looking for clues about the coming apocalypse and how humanity is going to survive it.
Chris - nobody said it would be easy, but now is the time to fix us. Yet we know that the Last Days are upon us, the Third Gospel, the Gospel of Truth, or X&Y having been revealed, that the rapture must be upon us soon. The signs are there. It is as foretold. IT’S TIME FOR CHRIS! COME ON, CHRIS! SORT STUFF OUT!
Times are tough for everyone, and that includes impressionists. But their hard times are not caused by the recession, but because of Barack Obama.
“I tried it,” Bremner sighs,”And no one knew who it was.”
Day 10
