Thanks for reviving these Child - absolute classic!
Can anyone add to them?
Voice of Reason 2018
Thread
Posts in chronological order
Sebastian
Yes you can but you've got to achieve the almost impossible task of being as good as fatty.
Cheers
Cheers
RETROLOVE
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]fatty wrote: [/QUOTENAME]Grim Reaper> The only mention of the 1984 Golden Rose festival is that Freddie was forced into wearing leggings beneath his wrestling leotard.
The second appearance in 1986 is just as uneventful apart from the after-show party in which Mark O'Toole (former bassist of Frankie Goes To Hollywood) made a snide comment to Freddie concerning poor lip-sync skills. Freddie laughed it off but later that evening he followed the scouse git into the toilets and battered him to within an inch of his life with a warm air hand drier that he ripped off the wall with his bare hands.
The 'Hot Space' sessions cover some three months of the 1981 diary and consist of a single sentence for each day. 'This album will be the end of our careers.' This is punctated by one entry which states' David Bowie turned up today and jammed for a while. This album will be the end of our careers.'
Again the dates are something I simply cannot be bothered checking but this an entry from sometime between 1982-1984 concerning the meetings with Michael Jackson
Dear Diary
Roger and I are in L.A at the moment for some reason or other and decided to pay a visit to our old friend Michael Jackson. We drove out to Neverland (which he may or may not live in at this point in time) and were greeted by a 7'4, 28 stone, heavily armed security guard. He asked our names and the purpose of our visit before calling the house on the intercom system. 'A Mr Mercury and a Mr Taylor to see you sir' growled the guard and we could hear a faint high pitched voice answer back. 'Oh shit, I forgot all about those limey bastards coming round this afternoon, stall them while I get these goddam kids back down into the dungeon.'
After 15 minutes or so the guard waved us on and it took another hour and a half to drive to the house itself. On the way we passed a fully functioning fairground, an eary shrine to Elizabeth Taylor, a zoo, the earthly remains of John Merrick (The Elephant Man) and a rather sheepish looking group of naked gentlemen running towards the woods with their clothes bundled up in their arms. Roger thought he recognised two of them as Gary Glitter and Jonathon King but I told him he was being silly.
Michael met us at the door and welcomed us inside. It was the first time I had been to Neverland and although it was a little glitzy for my taste, it was indeed a beautiful house. He is like myself something of an art collector and he has one of the most extensive collections of fine art in the U.S. In the Hallway he has two Dalis a Constable and a Turner. His dining room is full of original Jackson Pollocks and in his living room he has a couple of Picassos and an original DaVinci sketch. Roger was telling me that on a visist to the bathroom he has a collection of prints behind the cistern. He didn't know who the artist was but they were all of children in various stages of undress. After a breif tour of the house, Michael took us downstairs to his recording studio. I don't know how he manages to get any work done down there because of the contant sobbing of children. Michael assured me that the noises came from the orphanage next door. Funny but I don't recall seeing any orphanages when we arrived.
We spent the rest of the afternoon recording a couple of tracks which will hopefully be released as part of a box set sometime in the 90s.
Later on as we left Neverland, we saw Mick Jagger arriving humming a tune not too dissimilar to the one I had been working on with Michael Jackson earlier. As we got back to the main gate we saw our old pal Pete Townsend from The Who. We waved but he didn't seem to see us. Perhaps he was too busy crouching as far down in the seat of his car as he could.
Anyway, It was nice catching up with Michael again, even if he is getting weirder by the day and his holier than thou attitude is starting to get on my tits. It's ok for him to sexually molest children but he goes apeshit if I do a line of ch
The second appearance in 1986 is just as uneventful apart from the after-show party in which Mark O'Toole (former bassist of Frankie Goes To Hollywood) made a snide comment to Freddie concerning poor lip-sync skills. Freddie laughed it off but later that evening he followed the scouse git into the toilets and battered him to within an inch of his life with a warm air hand drier that he ripped off the wall with his bare hands.
The 'Hot Space' sessions cover some three months of the 1981 diary and consist of a single sentence for each day. 'This album will be the end of our careers.' This is punctated by one entry which states' David Bowie turned up today and jammed for a while. This album will be the end of our careers.'
Again the dates are something I simply cannot be bothered checking but this an entry from sometime between 1982-1984 concerning the meetings with Michael Jackson
Dear Diary
Roger and I are in L.A at the moment for some reason or other and decided to pay a visit to our old friend Michael Jackson. We drove out to Neverland (which he may or may not live in at this point in time) and were greeted by a 7'4, 28 stone, heavily armed security guard. He asked our names and the purpose of our visit before calling the house on the intercom system. 'A Mr Mercury and a Mr Taylor to see you sir' growled the guard and we could hear a faint high pitched voice answer back. 'Oh shit, I forgot all about those limey bastards coming round this afternoon, stall them while I get these goddam kids back down into the dungeon.'
After 15 minutes or so the guard waved us on and it took another hour and a half to drive to the house itself. On the way we passed a fully functioning fairground, an eary shrine to Elizabeth Taylor, a zoo, the earthly remains of John Merrick (The Elephant Man) and a rather sheepish looking group of naked gentlemen running towards the woods with their clothes bundled up in their arms. Roger thought he recognised two of them as Gary Glitter and Jonathon King but I told him he was being silly.
Michael met us at the door and welcomed us inside. It was the first time I had been to Neverland and although it was a little glitzy for my taste, it was indeed a beautiful house. He is like myself something of an art collector and he has one of the most extensive collections of fine art in the U.S. In the Hallway he has two Dalis a Constable and a Turner. His dining room is full of original Jackson Pollocks and in his living room he has a couple of Picassos and an original DaVinci sketch. Roger was telling me that on a visist to the bathroom he has a collection of prints behind the cistern. He didn't know who the artist was but they were all of children in various stages of undress. After a breif tour of the house, Michael took us downstairs to his recording studio. I don't know how he manages to get any work done down there because of the contant sobbing of children. Michael assured me that the noises came from the orphanage next door. Funny but I don't recall seeing any orphanages when we arrived.
We spent the rest of the afternoon recording a couple of tracks which will hopefully be released as part of a box set sometime in the 90s.
Later on as we left Neverland, we saw Mick Jagger arriving humming a tune not too dissimilar to the one I had been working on with Michael Jackson earlier. As we got back to the main gate we saw our old pal Pete Townsend from The Who. We waved but he didn't seem to see us. Perhaps he was too busy crouching as far down in the seat of his car as he could.
Anyway, It was nice catching up with Michael again, even if he is getting weirder by the day and his holier than thou attitude is starting to get on my tits. It's ok for him to sexually molest children but he goes apeshit if I do a line of ch
RETROLOVE
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]fatty wrote: [/QUOTENAME]19th NOVEMBER 1991
Dear Diary
The Pain has become almost unbearable and the doctors are reluctant to give me a straight answer as to how long I have left to live. To make matters worse, Roger came to visit me today and in the course of our conversation he mentioned his solo career. You can only imagine how shocked I was and it took all my skills as a stage performer to act as though I was aware of this. When he went home I had Pheobe look into this and it turns out he has released 2 solo albums and a further two albums as lead singer with another band. I had no bloody idea what he was talking about. Roger kept asking me which of his solo songs I liked best and I had to pretend to lapse into a coma to avoid answering him. I really will have to set a day aside and listen to them. In fact I think I'll make a note in my diary just now and keep that day free.
F.M.
25th NOVEMBER 1991
Keep day free to listen to Roger's solo albums.
F.M.
[/QUOTE]
LOL!!! That is too damn funny Fatty!!!
Keep it coming!!!
Dear Diary
The Pain has become almost unbearable and the doctors are reluctant to give me a straight answer as to how long I have left to live. To make matters worse, Roger came to visit me today and in the course of our conversation he mentioned his solo career. You can only imagine how shocked I was and it took all my skills as a stage performer to act as though I was aware of this. When he went home I had Pheobe look into this and it turns out he has released 2 solo albums and a further two albums as lead singer with another band. I had no bloody idea what he was talking about. Roger kept asking me which of his solo songs I liked best and I had to pretend to lapse into a coma to avoid answering him. I really will have to set a day aside and listen to them. In fact I think I'll make a note in my diary just now and keep that day free.
F.M.
25th NOVEMBER 1991
Keep day free to listen to Roger's solo albums.
F.M.
[/QUOTE]
LOL!!! That is too damn funny Fatty!!!
Keep it coming!!!
RETROLOVE
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]Sir GH<br><h6>ah yeah</h6> wrote: [/QUOTENAME][QUOTE][QUOTENAME]Fenderek wrote: [/QUOTENAME]One of my absolutely afv threads on QZ ever! There was another one, when Freddie was visited on his death bed by Rog and Bri and John but i think this one got lost... I can't find it even on the old board :([/QUOTE]
I saved this one. Enjoy (again)!!
----------------------------------------
Saturday 23rd November 1991, Garden Lodge, London.
Roger, Brian & John have come to say their final goodbyes to Freddie.
Roger, Brian & John poke their heads around Freddie's bedroom door.
Brian: Hi Fred, it's us. Can we come in?
Freddie: Well to tell you the truth 'Noel's House Party' has just started. Can you come back in about an hour?
Brian: (looking slightly perplexed) er...ok.
An hour or so later Roger, Brian & John peek around the bedroom door again.
Roger: Is it ok to come in now Freddie?
Freddie: Oh sorry dear, but 'Blind Date' has just started and I want to see if Wayne and Donna hit it off on their weekend to Skegness.
Roger: Er.....em...Well shall we come back in another hour or so?
Freddie: Yes, you do that dear and if you see Pheobe on your travels ask him to bring me up a cup of tea and some wagon wheels, would you?
Roger: Er...ok.
An hour later the three of them trot back upstairs and into Freddie's bedroom.
Brain: Can we please come in now Fred?
Freddie picks up a copy of TV QUICK and reads the listings for Saturday night.
Freddie: Hmmmmmmmmm...Ok, you've got half an hour. 'Murder She Wrote' is on at 10.
Roger and Brian sit in chairs beside the bed while John parks himself at Freddie's feet.
Roger: Well Freddie, how are you feeling?
Freddie: Oh you mean apart from the chronic mouth sores, ulcers and crippling agonising pain of drawing breath.
Roger: Yeah.
Freddie: Not too bad.
At this point Pheobe enters the bedroom carrying a tray of tea and Jaffa Cakes.
Freddie beckons Pheobe over to him and whispers something in his ear.
Pheobe takes the plate of Jaffa Cakes away and returns a minute or so later with a plate of plain digestives.
Freddie: Well boys, I suppose you know why I've called you here tonight. It looks like this thing has finally got the better of me and I don't think I'm going to be around much longer.
John: What thing?
Freddie: You know, my condition.
John: I'm sorry I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about.
Freddie: AIDS.
John: Who's got AIDS?
Freddie: I've got AIDS?
John: Well this all news to me.
Freddie: Oh of course you weren't at the last meeting were you?
John: No I was on holiday in Beliz.
Brian: (interupting) Look John, Freddie explained to us at our last meeting that he had contracted HIV in the eighties and it was now full blown and he didn't have long to live.
John: But how did you catch AIDS? I thought that only affected drug users and homosexuals.
Roger: For fuck's sake John, don't tell me you didn't know that Freddie was gay.
Brian: I think you missed that meeting too.
Brian hands John a folder containing the minutes of the last twenty years band meetings.
Freddie: While John is catching up I want to straighten out one or two things with you two.
Roger & Brian: OK.
Freddie: First of all, the name Queen dies with me.
Brian: AWWWWW Freddie!
Freddie: No arguments Brian. I don't mind you and Roger going off on your own projests but Queen dies with me.
Roger: Can't we carry on as a three peice band?
Freddie: I don't think John will be able to cope without me to look after him. Just look at the poor bugger.
Freddie points to John who looks up from the papers in the folder.
John: Did we really release Bohemian Rhapsody as a single?
Freddie: You were in Torquay when we had that meeting dear.
John shrugs his shoulders and goes back to reading.
Freddie: (to Roger & Brian) See what I mean.
B
I saved this one. Enjoy (again)!!
----------------------------------------
Saturday 23rd November 1991, Garden Lodge, London.
Roger, Brian & John have come to say their final goodbyes to Freddie.
Roger, Brian & John poke their heads around Freddie's bedroom door.
Brian: Hi Fred, it's us. Can we come in?
Freddie: Well to tell you the truth 'Noel's House Party' has just started. Can you come back in about an hour?
Brian: (looking slightly perplexed) er...ok.
An hour or so later Roger, Brian & John peek around the bedroom door again.
Roger: Is it ok to come in now Freddie?
Freddie: Oh sorry dear, but 'Blind Date' has just started and I want to see if Wayne and Donna hit it off on their weekend to Skegness.
Roger: Er.....em...Well shall we come back in another hour or so?
Freddie: Yes, you do that dear and if you see Pheobe on your travels ask him to bring me up a cup of tea and some wagon wheels, would you?
Roger: Er...ok.
An hour later the three of them trot back upstairs and into Freddie's bedroom.
Brain: Can we please come in now Fred?
Freddie picks up a copy of TV QUICK and reads the listings for Saturday night.
Freddie: Hmmmmmmmmm...Ok, you've got half an hour. 'Murder She Wrote' is on at 10.
Roger and Brian sit in chairs beside the bed while John parks himself at Freddie's feet.
Roger: Well Freddie, how are you feeling?
Freddie: Oh you mean apart from the chronic mouth sores, ulcers and crippling agonising pain of drawing breath.
Roger: Yeah.
Freddie: Not too bad.
At this point Pheobe enters the bedroom carrying a tray of tea and Jaffa Cakes.
Freddie beckons Pheobe over to him and whispers something in his ear.
Pheobe takes the plate of Jaffa Cakes away and returns a minute or so later with a plate of plain digestives.
Freddie: Well boys, I suppose you know why I've called you here tonight. It looks like this thing has finally got the better of me and I don't think I'm going to be around much longer.
John: What thing?
Freddie: You know, my condition.
John: I'm sorry I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about.
Freddie: AIDS.
John: Who's got AIDS?
Freddie: I've got AIDS?
John: Well this all news to me.
Freddie: Oh of course you weren't at the last meeting were you?
John: No I was on holiday in Beliz.
Brian: (interupting) Look John, Freddie explained to us at our last meeting that he had contracted HIV in the eighties and it was now full blown and he didn't have long to live.
John: But how did you catch AIDS? I thought that only affected drug users and homosexuals.
Roger: For fuck's sake John, don't tell me you didn't know that Freddie was gay.
Brian: I think you missed that meeting too.
Brian hands John a folder containing the minutes of the last twenty years band meetings.
Freddie: While John is catching up I want to straighten out one or two things with you two.
Roger & Brian: OK.
Freddie: First of all, the name Queen dies with me.
Brian: AWWWWW Freddie!
Freddie: No arguments Brian. I don't mind you and Roger going off on your own projests but Queen dies with me.
Roger: Can't we carry on as a three peice band?
Freddie: I don't think John will be able to cope without me to look after him. Just look at the poor bugger.
Freddie points to John who looks up from the papers in the folder.
John: Did we really release Bohemian Rhapsody as a single?
Freddie: You were in Torquay when we had that meeting dear.
John shrugs his shoulders and goes back to reading.
Freddie: (to Roger & Brian) See what I mean.
B
Sebastian
Of course I can't stand up to 1% of Fatty's creativity, wit or humour, but here's a poor attempt to keep these diaries going:
-------
UNKNOWN LONG RANT, SOMETIME IN LATE 70S
Dear Diary:
Saw Brian's son today. It was about time for that hairy bastard to have children since our dear Johnny's already got two and probably he's expecting a thid anytime soon. It seems like the poor bugger is not that dull when he's with 'er indoors. Maggie's son is called Jimmy, which shows again that he's as predictable as the day is long. Just when I came visitting he told me he had written a song named Fat Arsed Birds or something, no comments! Poor little Jimmy, the combination of Brian and Chrissy must lead to weird kids, I bet he'll grow up into some lazy career such as physiotherapist, and I wouldn't be surprised if he ever finds a way to use future technology and put a shitty collection of memories in order to share his (anything but interesting) stories with the public.
Anyway, the visit helped me to forget about my own problems for a while: Mary told me to fuck off just because she figured I was a shirtlifter. I mean, I knew my girlfriend was dim-witted, but nearly a decade and she hadn't noticed? I'm starting to date that cute little lad, Tony Bastin, I think that's his name - I hardly understood what he said while he bit that bloody pillow. He always lets me entertain him even if I feel jealousy. Whenever we have it off he asks me not to stop him and he keeps making up those silly games about question-answer, when one says "rolls" and the other says "royce", one says "pillow" the other says "bitter". Funny ol' bloke who, let's face it, is nowt but a bore, but he fucks well so I'll keep him unless he stops playing the fucking game. At least he helped me with my depression, telling me not to try suicide. But I'm quite worried about my recent lack of imagination for song titles. I guess for the next couple years I'll just pick a random page of these diaries and make up a little ditty out of the most stupid words I find.
By the way, that blonde bitch Mary didn't get the post for me as a revenge, so I had to go to the office. I'm expecting a letter from Elton about a possible group we're gonna form with Rod Stewart. We've been having that idea for donkey's years but haven't defined anything yet. While I was there I ran into that bearded bastard Paul Rodgers from Free. Brian admires the bugger and he's even told me he'd love to play together with him when they're both old, fat and grumpy. Myself, I think he's total pants and if I go with Elton and Rod and form our group or I leave Queen for some reason anytime, the worst person who could possibly replace me is that nasty ol' twat. I swear I'll never grow a ridiculous moustache like his.
Time to leave since Roger's screaming next door some sort of crap like "no more of that jazz". The worst is that he thinks that insane yelling can be called "music". We've definitely got to change our producer, and change our music, even if it's to the most stupid beat-driven shite ever. But as long as we get into Yank charts ... I love NY, too many wooly woofters in there, I think I'll just take some holiday in the US now that I think of it!
---------
BIG APPLE VACATION, THE NEXT DAY
Been here for some hours and I ran into that odd clown Jamie Moses. He claims to know Crystal and he asked me for an autograph. I thought he was gay and gave him the key to my hotel room but he felt offended and declined my proposal. I got brassed off and started to call him all sorts of names after which he said something along the lines of "someday I'll dance on your grave and get rich with your music". Poor little tart.
Other than that, Roger phoned and told me John Harris quit. John's so pissed off that he wants us to dedicate the album we're working on at the moment to him, since it's the crappiest thing we've ever done: the
-------
UNKNOWN LONG RANT, SOMETIME IN LATE 70S
Dear Diary:
Saw Brian's son today. It was about time for that hairy bastard to have children since our dear Johnny's already got two and probably he's expecting a thid anytime soon. It seems like the poor bugger is not that dull when he's with 'er indoors. Maggie's son is called Jimmy, which shows again that he's as predictable as the day is long. Just when I came visitting he told me he had written a song named Fat Arsed Birds or something, no comments! Poor little Jimmy, the combination of Brian and Chrissy must lead to weird kids, I bet he'll grow up into some lazy career such as physiotherapist, and I wouldn't be surprised if he ever finds a way to use future technology and put a shitty collection of memories in order to share his (anything but interesting) stories with the public.
Anyway, the visit helped me to forget about my own problems for a while: Mary told me to fuck off just because she figured I was a shirtlifter. I mean, I knew my girlfriend was dim-witted, but nearly a decade and she hadn't noticed? I'm starting to date that cute little lad, Tony Bastin, I think that's his name - I hardly understood what he said while he bit that bloody pillow. He always lets me entertain him even if I feel jealousy. Whenever we have it off he asks me not to stop him and he keeps making up those silly games about question-answer, when one says "rolls" and the other says "royce", one says "pillow" the other says "bitter". Funny ol' bloke who, let's face it, is nowt but a bore, but he fucks well so I'll keep him unless he stops playing the fucking game. At least he helped me with my depression, telling me not to try suicide. But I'm quite worried about my recent lack of imagination for song titles. I guess for the next couple years I'll just pick a random page of these diaries and make up a little ditty out of the most stupid words I find.
By the way, that blonde bitch Mary didn't get the post for me as a revenge, so I had to go to the office. I'm expecting a letter from Elton about a possible group we're gonna form with Rod Stewart. We've been having that idea for donkey's years but haven't defined anything yet. While I was there I ran into that bearded bastard Paul Rodgers from Free. Brian admires the bugger and he's even told me he'd love to play together with him when they're both old, fat and grumpy. Myself, I think he's total pants and if I go with Elton and Rod and form our group or I leave Queen for some reason anytime, the worst person who could possibly replace me is that nasty ol' twat. I swear I'll never grow a ridiculous moustache like his.
Time to leave since Roger's screaming next door some sort of crap like "no more of that jazz". The worst is that he thinks that insane yelling can be called "music". We've definitely got to change our producer, and change our music, even if it's to the most stupid beat-driven shite ever. But as long as we get into Yank charts ... I love NY, too many wooly woofters in there, I think I'll just take some holiday in the US now that I think of it!
---------
BIG APPLE VACATION, THE NEXT DAY
Been here for some hours and I ran into that odd clown Jamie Moses. He claims to know Crystal and he asked me for an autograph. I thought he was gay and gave him the key to my hotel room but he felt offended and declined my proposal. I got brassed off and started to call him all sorts of names after which he said something along the lines of "someday I'll dance on your grave and get rich with your music". Poor little tart.
Other than that, Roger phoned and told me John Harris quit. John's so pissed off that he wants us to dedicate the album we're working on at the moment to him, since it's the crappiest thing we've ever done: the
M a t i a s M a y
It's REALLY great
:D
:D
Sebastian
25th MARCH 1989
Dear Diary:
Today Elton had his birthday, but I missed his party because I'm stuck in Switzerland working on the album. It's going on slowly since that cunt Brian wants to save all the songs for his solo project. On top of that, he's planning to release it shortly after I die so he can sell the bloody thing. I'm applying reverse psychology on him as I'm always singing his tunes to try to persuade him to give them to the band. It did work with one song, one named I Can't Live With You. I'm trying to convince the tart to let me sing Headlong as well since he simply can't handle rock vocals. Other than those, so far I've written two songs, one as a tribute to Noel Coward (who is expecting me to visit him in either heaven or hell quite soon), and another one influenced by Zeppelin, although I'm sure Robert would never be able to sing it correctly, he'd even forget the bloody words.
The twat rang me up this morning by the way ... he'd lent me that JR Tolkien story, The Hobbit, and wanted to know if I'd liked it. He also told me he'd been singing Crazy Little Thing a lot lately and he wanted to do it on stage sometime, especially if it was at Wembley or something. I told him "over my dead body" and hung up. Back to the Tolkien thing, it was sort of spooky, since I was reading it and suddenly a troll came into the studio. He said hello to me and to David Richards and sat down to chat. I thought I was on coke again but the ugly-faced lad kept speaking to us and telling how he liked the album we were working on. Brian asked him to record the flamenco guitar on 'Innuendo' and I could hear the "thing" could play quite well. I was still quite scared and kept going 'round the studio hiding from goblins, since I thought the damned book was becoming real. Suddenly I heard a noise and crapped my pants out of fear, but then I realised it'd been my cat Delilah. I promised to compose a song for her if she never scared me again.
Went to change and run into Roger, who insisted that for this album we should share credits as we did with 'The Miracle'. I told him "that's ok dear, anybody with one ear and half a brain will notice that 'Innuendo' can't be written by you, so it doesn't matter what do the credits say". As he was leaving I asked him who that guitar creature was, and he told me he was Steve Howe. The chap even says he's my friend but I don't remember him, I mean, there had been dwarfs at my parties, but never a troll as far as I know. He looked heartbroken to see I didn't have a clue and then he showed me a photo of his PA. Then I remembered: he's the Yes bloke who's got a beautiful roadie!
I'm a little tired so I'll get some zeds.
Dear Diary:
Today Elton had his birthday, but I missed his party because I'm stuck in Switzerland working on the album. It's going on slowly since that cunt Brian wants to save all the songs for his solo project. On top of that, he's planning to release it shortly after I die so he can sell the bloody thing. I'm applying reverse psychology on him as I'm always singing his tunes to try to persuade him to give them to the band. It did work with one song, one named I Can't Live With You. I'm trying to convince the tart to let me sing Headlong as well since he simply can't handle rock vocals. Other than those, so far I've written two songs, one as a tribute to Noel Coward (who is expecting me to visit him in either heaven or hell quite soon), and another one influenced by Zeppelin, although I'm sure Robert would never be able to sing it correctly, he'd even forget the bloody words.
The twat rang me up this morning by the way ... he'd lent me that JR Tolkien story, The Hobbit, and wanted to know if I'd liked it. He also told me he'd been singing Crazy Little Thing a lot lately and he wanted to do it on stage sometime, especially if it was at Wembley or something. I told him "over my dead body" and hung up. Back to the Tolkien thing, it was sort of spooky, since I was reading it and suddenly a troll came into the studio. He said hello to me and to David Richards and sat down to chat. I thought I was on coke again but the ugly-faced lad kept speaking to us and telling how he liked the album we were working on. Brian asked him to record the flamenco guitar on 'Innuendo' and I could hear the "thing" could play quite well. I was still quite scared and kept going 'round the studio hiding from goblins, since I thought the damned book was becoming real. Suddenly I heard a noise and crapped my pants out of fear, but then I realised it'd been my cat Delilah. I promised to compose a song for her if she never scared me again.
Went to change and run into Roger, who insisted that for this album we should share credits as we did with 'The Miracle'. I told him "that's ok dear, anybody with one ear and half a brain will notice that 'Innuendo' can't be written by you, so it doesn't matter what do the credits say". As he was leaving I asked him who that guitar creature was, and he told me he was Steve Howe. The chap even says he's my friend but I don't remember him, I mean, there had been dwarfs at my parties, but never a troll as far as I know. He looked heartbroken to see I didn't have a clue and then he showed me a photo of his PA. Then I remembered: he's the Yes bloke who's got a beautiful roadie!
I'm a little tired so I'll get some zeds.
PlanetMercury15
omgosh i am sitting here laughing hysterically at this someone please make more!
rocks.
"This will if anything, annoy the hell out of that old cow Mrs Patterson across the road who for the past five years has been moaning about my cats creeping into her garden and shitting on her roses.
F.M"
ROFLMAO!!! HAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Oh my god, rofl Sebastian, really takes the biscuit...rofl!
F.M"
ROFLMAO!!! HAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Oh my god, rofl Sebastian, really takes the biscuit...rofl!
Sebastian
January 1989
Dear Diary:
Shot the video for 'The Miracle' today. That stupid kid who played my part kept thinking he was me for some time after the filming ended. I don't know why but it seems like the little lad is gonna grow up well and have some beautiful bird.
He passed the audition over some scores of children, including an annoying irritable odd faced one who Brian had particularly liked. It looks like the boy's parents are fond of minimalistic low budget soap operas since they named him Robert Peter Williams. Brian even played a crappy version of 'We Are The Champions' with the kid, adding a pretentious solo at the end. So long as it never gets recorded...
--------
15th August 1986
Dear Diary:
The tour has finally ended a week ago and I'm enjoying a well-deserved break. Went with Jim and some others to watch that 'Biggles' film, only because Neil Dickson was there, and during one of the featured songs Ratty told me "that's John playing bass, it's completely his style". I just laughed because I know he would never be in a project outside Queen. I mean, can you picture him working on, say, an Elton John track? No way! Even if Roger were there as well, the poor bloke would get missing between the control room and the bathroom if I'm not there to help him out. At the theatre I ran into Tim Curry, who kept setting me up because of my (according to him) ridiculous stage antics. I only wish I don't die before I can see him making a fool of himself playing a pathetic part in a TV film, for instance, doing that silly clown of Stephen King's new novel.
That hangin' lady that resembles a blowfish, Sarah Brightman, was there as well, and she told me her husband was working on a musical about the Phantom Of The Opera and wanted me to star along with her. I sort of liked the idea but as soon as I listened to the main motif I noticed he had plagiarised Roger Waters. Can't that cunt be original for once?
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16th August 1986.
Dear Diary:
Brian rang me up and told me he was going to produce a Jap teenager named Minako Kudo. Poor old Brian, he's depressed because he knows he's not getting any younger and wants to feel he can still attract a beautiful lady. I'm sure that twenty years from now, if Brian's still doing concerts someway (and I'm sure he will since he can't simply understand when the golden days are over), he might even lose sense of balance and fall down.
I don't know what's Roger doing right now. When I phoned him his kid told me he was "working with The Cross". Perhaps he's bored and became a male nurse or something...
Dear Diary:
Shot the video for 'The Miracle' today. That stupid kid who played my part kept thinking he was me for some time after the filming ended. I don't know why but it seems like the little lad is gonna grow up well and have some beautiful bird.
He passed the audition over some scores of children, including an annoying irritable odd faced one who Brian had particularly liked. It looks like the boy's parents are fond of minimalistic low budget soap operas since they named him Robert Peter Williams. Brian even played a crappy version of 'We Are The Champions' with the kid, adding a pretentious solo at the end. So long as it never gets recorded...
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15th August 1986
Dear Diary:
The tour has finally ended a week ago and I'm enjoying a well-deserved break. Went with Jim and some others to watch that 'Biggles' film, only because Neil Dickson was there, and during one of the featured songs Ratty told me "that's John playing bass, it's completely his style". I just laughed because I know he would never be in a project outside Queen. I mean, can you picture him working on, say, an Elton John track? No way! Even if Roger were there as well, the poor bloke would get missing between the control room and the bathroom if I'm not there to help him out. At the theatre I ran into Tim Curry, who kept setting me up because of my (according to him) ridiculous stage antics. I only wish I don't die before I can see him making a fool of himself playing a pathetic part in a TV film, for instance, doing that silly clown of Stephen King's new novel.
That hangin' lady that resembles a blowfish, Sarah Brightman, was there as well, and she told me her husband was working on a musical about the Phantom Of The Opera and wanted me to star along with her. I sort of liked the idea but as soon as I listened to the main motif I noticed he had plagiarised Roger Waters. Can't that cunt be original for once?
---
16th August 1986.
Dear Diary:
Brian rang me up and told me he was going to produce a Jap teenager named Minako Kudo. Poor old Brian, he's depressed because he knows he's not getting any younger and wants to feel he can still attract a beautiful lady. I'm sure that twenty years from now, if Brian's still doing concerts someway (and I'm sure he will since he can't simply understand when the golden days are over), he might even lose sense of balance and fall down.
I don't know what's Roger doing right now. When I phoned him his kid told me he was "working with The Cross". Perhaps he's bored and became a male nurse or something...
Sebastian
19th June 1987
I went to the Marquee today and saw an American band, Guns N' Roses. The ugly guitarist plays like God but the banjaxed singer is a pretentious twat who apparently can't hear his own cat-voice. He told Phoebe he wanted to meet me but I just spit on his face and told him to fuck off. I hate the bastard and he entered into the list of people I never want ever to sing my songs, especially 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The other two on the list are the barmy bluesser Paul Rodgers and the petty geezer Bruce Dickinson, who was on the audience with me and overheard I was working on an album with Montsy and asked me if I could contact them with each other. Silly old fart - it's obvious that she'd rather die than go down to the level of a cunt who sounds the bloody same always.
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20th June 1987
I still can't believe I'm working with Montserrat Caballé. I had to do it since duets are quite popular right now: Aretha's releasing a single with George Michael, and what hurts me deeply is that the prat does sing quite nicely. Yet I know I'd have done it better and I'm planning my revenge with the fat lady.
Mike Moran is on the sessions too, he's playing piano and helping me out in the creative process. I'm feeling thrilled that Elaine Paige is recording an album of Queen covers next door, although I think it won't be released for a decade or so. Her hubby, Mr Rice, offered me to write lyrics for a couple of tracks and I accepted, that frees me a lot and lets me focus on the music and Montserrat.
Elaine sings really well and she's one of the few people I enjoy doing Queen songs. I'd hate if one of our tracks were to be performed by that throatless gumpy Paul Young, or that beast Annie Lennox from Eurythmics. In fact I'd hate if the Queen name were ever associated in one way or another to either Dave or her.
I'm off since I've got to work on a Japanese lyric I'm doing. It's merely random syllables put together forming nonsense words but very few of the public will ever know...
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25th May 1984
Just recorded 'I Was Born To Love You'. I'd written that one in NYC some weeks ago and my driver insists me that he liked more the ballad feeling (sort of Love Of My Life-esque) instead of the disco beat I want to put it into. But I'm entirely sure the record can sell better if it's dance-oriented, none of my fans would complain about that.
Not everything is good news unfortunately: I'd wanted to perform a duet with Robert Plant but instead he decided to take Roger to drum for him during a short while. He's probably hurt because Jimmy decided to form a band with that bloody tart Paul Rodgers. I can't blame Robert, only an idiot would ask Mr Loser to sing for them.
I also heard Roger Waters'new album, which had been planned for his band but he decided to put it under his name. The last two Pink Floyd projects had been almost entirely his so 'twas a natural step for him. I'm just dissapointed about his obstinacy: the bloody pillock's a brilliant musician and he can certainly choose whom to work with (I'd love if his director, that Kamen something, ever scores an arrangement for one of Brian's crappy ballads and flourishes it up a bit), but when it comes to singing the old china's just a pseudo-melodic sewer. Doesn't the word "pitch" ever appear in his vocabulary?
I was told the band dissolved, which is just logical: they would never be able to sell-out stadiums without Rog, and I think now he's touring the States with Eric Clapton. Thank God he's got good taste for guitar players: Brian's a good friend of that unwashed tart Tony Iommi. As long as he or the Metallica twats never dare playing 'Stone Cold Crazy' that's all right.
-----------------
I went to the Marquee today and saw an American band, Guns N' Roses. The ugly guitarist plays like God but the banjaxed singer is a pretentious twat who apparently can't hear his own cat-voice. He told Phoebe he wanted to meet me but I just spit on his face and told him to fuck off. I hate the bastard and he entered into the list of people I never want ever to sing my songs, especially 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The other two on the list are the barmy bluesser Paul Rodgers and the petty geezer Bruce Dickinson, who was on the audience with me and overheard I was working on an album with Montsy and asked me if I could contact them with each other. Silly old fart - it's obvious that she'd rather die than go down to the level of a cunt who sounds the bloody same always.
-----
20th June 1987
I still can't believe I'm working with Montserrat Caballé. I had to do it since duets are quite popular right now: Aretha's releasing a single with George Michael, and what hurts me deeply is that the prat does sing quite nicely. Yet I know I'd have done it better and I'm planning my revenge with the fat lady.
Mike Moran is on the sessions too, he's playing piano and helping me out in the creative process. I'm feeling thrilled that Elaine Paige is recording an album of Queen covers next door, although I think it won't be released for a decade or so. Her hubby, Mr Rice, offered me to write lyrics for a couple of tracks and I accepted, that frees me a lot and lets me focus on the music and Montserrat.
Elaine sings really well and she's one of the few people I enjoy doing Queen songs. I'd hate if one of our tracks were to be performed by that throatless gumpy Paul Young, or that beast Annie Lennox from Eurythmics. In fact I'd hate if the Queen name were ever associated in one way or another to either Dave or her.
I'm off since I've got to work on a Japanese lyric I'm doing. It's merely random syllables put together forming nonsense words but very few of the public will ever know...
-------------
25th May 1984
Just recorded 'I Was Born To Love You'. I'd written that one in NYC some weeks ago and my driver insists me that he liked more the ballad feeling (sort of Love Of My Life-esque) instead of the disco beat I want to put it into. But I'm entirely sure the record can sell better if it's dance-oriented, none of my fans would complain about that.
Not everything is good news unfortunately: I'd wanted to perform a duet with Robert Plant but instead he decided to take Roger to drum for him during a short while. He's probably hurt because Jimmy decided to form a band with that bloody tart Paul Rodgers. I can't blame Robert, only an idiot would ask Mr Loser to sing for them.
I also heard Roger Waters'new album, which had been planned for his band but he decided to put it under his name. The last two Pink Floyd projects had been almost entirely his so 'twas a natural step for him. I'm just dissapointed about his obstinacy: the bloody pillock's a brilliant musician and he can certainly choose whom to work with (I'd love if his director, that Kamen something, ever scores an arrangement for one of Brian's crappy ballads and flourishes it up a bit), but when it comes to singing the old china's just a pseudo-melodic sewer. Doesn't the word "pitch" ever appear in his vocabulary?
I was told the band dissolved, which is just logical: they would never be able to sell-out stadiums without Rog, and I think now he's touring the States with Eric Clapton. Thank God he's got good taste for guitar players: Brian's a good friend of that unwashed tart Tony Iommi. As long as he or the Metallica twats never dare playing 'Stone Cold Crazy' that's all right.
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RedSpecial1979
I can't believe how great these are! Good on ya both, fatty and sebastian!
rocks.
ROFL!!! I love it, speccially the bit on Annie Lennox, she cannot sing. IMO. Hahaha, Paul ROdgers bits are hilarious too! NICE!
PlanetMercury15
create more someone, please?