the music of the clods

The U2 concert with Serafina.
I'm not really happy to be here.
I've never entirely accepted that the great Bonio is all that great.
I've never quite managed to approve Bonio's role in persuading our kleptocratic banks to prop up African and Asian dictatorships by cancelling their debts.
I can't help wondering if it really was an act of charity to write off billion dollar borrowings for psychos like Mugabe and Gadaffy, or for Three Million Men Killer President Omar Hassan Ahmed Al Bashir of Sudan, or for Four Million Men Killer President Jose Eduardo Dos Santos in Angola, or for the nameless Five Million Men Killers in the Republic of Congo, or to those lovable nuclear weapons wielding population starving would be humanity wipers out loons of North Korea .
Hmmm.
And did Bonio's largesse to mass murderers help collapse the world banking system itself?
I think it did.
Our idiot kleptocratic banks actually couldn't afford to write off the money they'd spent fifty years throwing at African and Arab murderers.
More.
I can't quite understand how Bonio could have stopped caring about civil war, desolation and deprivation in South Africa just because his faction the Mandelas had attained power.
Nor did I ever quite understand how Bonio managed to overlook Winnie Mandela's predilection for killing children in the Mandela mansion at South Western Township.
And I must say I continue to feel a frisson of distaste when contemplating the Jihadi attacks on London which took place while Bonio and the gallant little Belgian (Geldoff) had distracted the entire British security apparatus with one of their useless Feed The World concerts up in Scotland.
But all that's neither here nor there.
Serafina and me are here though.
So I guess I'd better make the most of it.
I can't be much fun to be with when I'm busy blaming Bonio for everything in the world.
And Serafina's in love with him.
I never quite forgave him for that either.
So run my thoughts.
Then suddenly all is well.
For lo!
Bonio is singing the U2 cover version of Bob Dylan's All Along The Watch Tower.
With a shock of delight, I realise he's singing it about The Heelers Diaries.
Now that's what I call class.
You'll never hear another word from me against U2.
Bonio sings as follows:

"All along The Heelers Diaries,
And Jihadis kept the view,
Independent Newspapers journos came and went,
The Johnston Press too.
There must be some kind of way out of here,
Said the Jihadi to the Johnston Press.
There's too much confusion here.
Heelers' writing is just a mess.
One minute he's attacking the cops.
The next it's the island of Jersey.
None of us knows if he's satirising us,
Or if he's really ephin crerzy.
Hey, hey, hey.
No reason to get excited,
The Johnston Press man he kindly spoke.
There are many among us here,
Who think The Heelers Diaries is just a joke.
But you and I we've been through that.
And that is not our fate.
So let us not walk softly now.
Because the hour is getting late.
Late, late, late.
All along The Heelers Diaries.
Jihadis kept the view.
Independent Newspapers journos came and went.
The Johnston Press too.
No reason to get excited,
Some extortionately overpaid Irish teachers, nurses, police officers, bus drivers and civil servants, they kindly spoke.
We're gonna play this one to the finish.
Even if the country goes up in smoke.
There's no constituency for integrity.
The truth is something we make.
Heelers heroism will be swept away.
We'll replace it with something fake.
Fake, fake, fake.
All along The Heelers Diaries,
And Jihadis kept the view,
Wild free masons came and went,
Corrupt cops too.
No reason to get excited,
The thieving banker he kindly spoke.
The people are farm animals.
Television is their dope.
Throw em another few condoms.
Some prozac for their church.
We have destroyed Ireland.
And left its people in the lurch.
Lurch, lurch, lurch...
No reason to get excited,
The Jihadi he kindly spoke,
There are many among us at the Saudi Academy for Young Islamist Assassins in Falls River Virginia,
Who think The Heelers Diaries is just a joke.
We quite like the Paddy Pup episodes.
And the ones where he's praising God.
After that you've just got to take it all,
With a little bit of infidel salt.
Salt, salt, salt.
All I've got is a Dell computer.
A battered keyboard and the truth.
All I've got is a Dell computer.
The rest is up to you."

Good old Bonio.
Now that's what I call music.