So, the countdown to Goffick Chrimbo, aka Halloween, continues and thus two things are certain.
1. That the pound shops of the world will be stocked with more fake blood than a Dario Argento movie and…
2. Alice Cooper will be touring somewhere in the UK.
Is it just me or does the born again rocker always somehow manage to be playing every city in the UK simultaneously on the 31st October?
Regardless, it can’t be long now before the ageing transvestite finally realises he’s past it, so if you haven’t had the pleasure so hearing him murder his 90’s anthem “Poison”, then now would probably be a good time.
In other tour news, there’s good news and bad news in the form of the announcement that Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson are staging a joint arena tour in November. I say good news and bad news for obvious reasons, as pretty much the only thing that would stop me seeing Rob Zombie live, would be the slim chance of having to sit through a set by infamous geezer bird Manson.
I mean with any luck Manson will be the opening act and therefore the risk of hearing his dreadful whining could be dramatically diminished by sitting in the pub and consuming my own weight in beer.
On the bright side, if he is the headline then I suppose I could leave early, but then that scenario is somewhat marred by the possibility of me giving in to the urge to torch the entire arena.
Weirdly a tiny speck of hope has surfaced in an open letter from the genuinely scary Charlie Manson to his little sister, which if there is a god of metal, will inspire someone to creepy crawl into Marilyn’s Hollywood mansion and scribble “piggy” and “Helter Skelter” on the pastel walls in his blood… (Of course Mazza could just be too scared to leave the house.)
So what’s in this letter? I hear you ask. Well much like one of Marilyn Manson’s songs there’s some stuff about graveyards and most of it makes no sense, but then Charlie never was much of a writer. The glimmer of hope relies on the fact that for some reason and much like his little sis Marilyn, Charlie’s words will have some incredulous effect on teenage girls the county over, and somewhere in the prose is a secret code that reads something like… “Go to his house and cut the goffick eejit to pieces with nail scissors and end his war on good music.”
On the plus side Halloween is the one night in the year where normal women raid the costume shops and poundland to give us a rare glimpse of what they could look like if only they listened to a bit more Pantera, died their hair blue and wore a bit less in the pub.
Ah Halloween… It comes but once a year.
More news soon and horns UP!