Steve Lamacq’s Roundtable

Lammo welcomes Nick Clegg, Simon Cowell and Angel Deradoorian from Dirty Projectors into the studio

LAMACQ: So that was Hard-Fi and “Good for Nothing”. We’ll start with Nick. What did you make of that latest effort from the Staines outfit?

CLEGG: Look, I didn’t come here today to talk about music. There are far more pressing things on the agenda – the NHS bill, House of Lords reform, golf, Doctor Who. These are all hot potatoes. Unfortunately, no other show would accept me, which is a sad indictment on –

LAMACQ: You weren’t our first choice, actually.

COWELL: Yeah, I didn’t vote for you.

CLEGG (sighing): Let’s just stick to the music then.

COWELL: Look who’s changed their tune – again.

CLEGG: With respect, what do you know about tunes, Cowell?

COWELL: Quite a lot actually, Nick Clegg.

LAMACQ: Order, order! Please – if I could refer you back to the topic in hand. Hard-Fi.

ANGEL: I found the song pretty depressing. To be honest, it was shit. Can I say that?

LAMACQ: No, I’m afraid you –

COWELL: What the fuck?! I must take issue with that. I think the song was a delight.

ANGEL: Disagree. This was by-numbers landfill indie all the way. The vocals were phoned-in, the guitars anaemic, and the lyrics were pretty good, if you like really, really, really bad lyrics.

COWELL: Actually, I was transported at the way in which the guitars and basslines danced contrapuntally round one another. It really was bish-bang-wallop pop-punk and garage-rock at its best. The song dragged me bodily through the emotional blender and out the other side, blinking with a renewed clarity.

LAMACQ: You know, you’re wasted on Britain’s Got Talent. Ever thought of penning music reviews for the NME? I can put in a word for you, if you’re interested.

COWELL: Sure, I’d love to.

LAMACQ: I was joking. Were you joking?

COWELL: Yes.

CLEGG: I’d do it. And I’m not joking.

LAMACQ: Let’s go back to Hard-Fi. How do you think it compares to the material on their first album, Stars of CCTV?

CLEGG: CCTV? Are these guys felons? If they are, I refuse to endorse them. By the way, we’re conducting a pilot study on the effects of CCTV cameras on allotment garden vandalism rates. Another Lib Dem initiative that’s been overlooked.

LAMACQ: If I may make so bold as to ask your opinion on the song?

CLEGG: My opinion? To be honest, I wasn’t impressed. It seems as if Hard-Fi have had some kind of musical bypass, such is the complete lack of melody. They make Coldplay sound like Captain Beefheart. Hard-Fi are none-hit wonders, and if there was any justice the song – and their career – would die without a trace. Is that okay for an opinion?

LAMACQ: That’s pretty good. Why didn’t you just say that to start with?

CLEGG: When you’re in a coalition, there have to be compromises. You can’t always say what you want to.

COWELL: You know, I’ve misjudged you. Fancy joining the panel on The X Factor? We need a replacement for Cheryl.

ANGEL: And I completely agree with your opinion, Nick.

LAMACQ: You’ve been the best guest we’ve ever had.

CLEGG (blushing a lot): Shucks, thanks guys.

Mindlessness meditation: how to achieve that state of blissful calm

1) Take a seat. Pick a comfortable seat, preferably one with memory foam and good lumbar support. A good chair is vital – remember, it is impossible to achieve complete relaxation on a chair that retails for less than £150 in IKEA.

2) Have a cup of tea to hand. The tea must be caffeine-free, otherwise your stress levels will grow. This can be disastrous when combined with a bad chair (see point 1).

3) Try and block out the irritating background noises which you don’t normally notice (next door’s television, the fridge, the boiler, a train, your own tinnitus, a coughing/showering family member/pet). This takes an effort, but is vital if you want to prevent complete mental breakdown.

4) Take a sip of tea, being careful not to scald your lips (if you do, go back to point 1).

5) Listen to your breathing. If you can’t hear it, try this again after walking up a flight of stairs.

6) Visualise rural images: poplar trees, hyacinths, fawns, garden lilies, fields, a charming piggery, Centreparcs.

7) Then visualise happy images: finding a wallet full of high-denomination banknotes, a repayment holiday from your crippling mortgage, a new set of UPVC French doors.

8 ) Try and block out all negative thoughts otherwise gnawing at your vitals. Don’t, for instance, think of work, your dismal credit rating, unfaithful spouse, work, Adrian Chiles, Christine Bleakley, or work.

9) Meditate for a while. If you don’t know how to do this, buy a book on it. There are plenty out there so there are no excuses.

10) Try not to fall asleep. If you do, disregard what I said about using a comfortable chair because this has backfired in your case. Ditto the caffeine-free tea.

11) Relax. Enjoy the moment. Finish your tea if you haven’t done so already. Wash up your mug, or delegate this task to a loved one. If an argument ensues, repeat points 1-10.

The End of the World: A Timeline

446 B.C. – An old man anoints his chest with goat’s milk in the middle of the Parthenon and declares the end of the world is coming a week Monday. The threat is ignored, however, until a neighbouring woman in her early twenties does the same thing. A big audience gathers before the woman, topless, who describes how gale force winds will flatten Athens and a large bearded man (Zeus) will sit on Sparta. The crowd despairs – not least because the Parthenon is a new-build property with an appreciating market value. In the event, the world doesn’t end and the woman carves out a successful career as a glamour model. Sales of goat’s milk also improve. However, the old man anointing his chest turns out to be the goddess Athena in plain clothing and everyone is arrested.

1536 – Henry VIII tells his subjects that the world will end unless someone fetches him a plate of boar and roast tongue, followed by tarts and custard. (The boar needs to be free range.) After five minutes the king is still waiting and Anne Boleyn is beheaded. Soon the entire population of England is searching for a wild boar, on pain of global annihilation. A boar is found in Sherwood Forest, but it is not organic. In the end they have to order one in from France. The king is appeased, and later denies having threatened global extinction: ‘I never said that, and if some of the peasants interpreted it that way, well…that’s on them. Sorry about Anne, by the way.’ He blames his behaviour on a hefty night on the sauce. The king is posthumously diagnosed with an untreatable psychopathic condition. His obesity is also the subject of a BBC3 documentary in 2007: My Man Boobs and Me.

1962 – A millenarian cult claims to have deciphered a coded message in President Kennedy’s inaugural address, telling of the earth’s destruction by swarms of bees. They say the message is loud and clear if you ‘read between the lines, listen to his coughs, and disregard most of the speech, which essentially contradicts this interpretation.’ Some political commentators agree, understanding the importance of burying bad news – particularly for a first-term president conscious of the damage armageddon would do to his poll ratings. Kennedy appears on the radio to scotch the rumours, saying ‘the world will not end on my watch, come hell or high water’. Political aides privately curse his choice of words, and fears of global annihilation escalate until the start of the Cuban Missile Crisis calms everyone down again.

2011 – A rumour quickly spreads on Twitter that the universe is facing imminent extinction. This rumour has spread before, but gains traction this time around after it is retweeted by Stephen Fry and later confirmed by Ashton Kutcher. The story is lazily picked up by journalists who don’t bother to verify it and before long David Cameron is forced to call a press conference. He confirms that we are in for a ‘rough ride’ and that there will be a big squeeze on living standards. It is not clear, however, whether he is talking about armageddon or just the faltering economy. Ed Balls says there is no difference. Nick Clegg issues a statement confirming the end of the world, although no one believes him. The nation prays that the universe will stay intact until the Royal Wedding.

Train in Vain

Dan’s life was a lesson in middle-class accomplishment. Just 24, he was fair shinning his way up the greasy pole of white-collar respectability. He had already bagged a job (marketing), a girlfriend (slim), his own residence (rented), and 6,500 Nectar card points (enough for a new griddle pan). That said, he had to take the train every morning to work, and it was a living hell. It was a shame for Dan on a personal level, because in all other respects his life was peachy – still, there it is.

What did he hate about his daily train journey? Nothing much really, apart from the overcrowding, delays, cancellations, stultifying heat, robotic and repetitive announcements, over-price ‘inflation-busting’ tickets, and the unavoidable glimpses of Lewisham. He wore a very dapper suit to work, but was routinely afraid that it would be creased, dampened, or soiled by the commuter scrum. He bought the Daily Telegraph every morning and held it in front of him as a makeshift buffer zone. It was turning him more Conservative, but the suit needed to be protected.

Dan had been brought up to think he was destined for better things. As a youth he had ridden on a Virgin Pendolino – an Italian family of tilting trains. Bliss it was to travel in that way! His daily train to work didn’t tilt, though it sometimes felt like as if it did (because Dan was nauseous, or had read too much of the Telegraph). On the Pendolino the journey was so comfortable that he almost forgot he was bound for Manchester.

Despite his mounting Conservativism, Dan grew to hate the Major government which had enacted rail privatisation in the 1990s. They had made a real dog’s dinner of it – even if Major himself was a fundamentally decent man, who liked cricket. At the next election, Dan vowed to vote Lib Dem, even if their potential to overhaul the railways was much to be doubted.

Film Review: Pinch Point Predicament

Edgar Flop’s latest film, Pinch Point Predicament caused quite a stir when it was shown at Cannes earlier this year. Its tale of traffic calming, mystery shoppers, and the tuna ceviche industry left audiences bemused. Critics were split: was this the worst film of all time, or simply top five?

Flop has been having a thin time of it of late. His previous effort Cash, a biopic of Pat Cash, went straight to video – before filming had been completed. The released film only covered the first nine years of Cash’s life and had a running time of 22 minutes. Plans for a sequel were shelved when Flop himself withdrew from the project, citing ‘confidence issues’. Then followed reports of a retirement from the film industry and a new career in data entry. Last year’s announcement of a new Edgar Flop feature film was a big surprise, not least since he had been reported dead by no fewer than seven Sunday newspapers just the week before.

Pinch Point Predicament will delight Flop’s fans, as well as provide further ammunition to his critics. The bizarre plot owes much to posthumous Spielberg – the significance of the brogues, in particular, is pure Deep Impact 2 – and the cast of unknowns will confound many audiences, who will be unused to seeing consistently naked actors in a ‘PG’ rated film. Tom Cruise is the only established name in the film, although his character dies halfway through in a shocking and unforeseen plot twist.

There is much that is pathetic in Cruise’s performance. His range is limited, and it is sometimes difficult to hear what he is saying. His brief time on screen easily coincides with the film’s worst parts. That said, those going to see this film just for Cruise won’t be disappointed.

Flop’s hand is evident throughout the film (sometimes literally, owing to some sloppy camerawork). The special effects hark back to his very first release, Puzzler 2, while fans of his ‘classic period’ from March – April 1998 will delight in the sadistic puppetry. The film has a runtime of exactly 90 minutes (which will keep television schedulers onside), even if some scenes have been noticeably truncated to make this so.

It takes a special kind of director to make Pinch Point Predicament, and a special kind of filmgoer to see it. That said, I recommend it wholeheartedly. The film is a rollercoaster and there is no higher (or lower) praise than that.

Pinch Point Predicament is in HMV stores on Monday

Debate – Gyms: For and against

On the eve of the 43rd anniversary of Shropshire’s first functional cross-training machine, self-proclaimed ‘gym bunny’ Jack Fuikj debates his hobby with avowed gym-hater Lisa Thorpe

Jack Fuikj – I went to my first gym aged six. I loved rowing, but strongly feared water. My Dad told me I should try a ‘gym’. The next day I did. They turned me away, however, because I was too young. I was distraught. But the day after I bought some dumbbells – I’d seen people in the gym using them, you see. I couldn’t lift them until I was fifteen, but six months later was I boasting the biggest left bicep in my class. I soon joined my school gym, and was later appointed ‘gym captain.’

Lisa Thorpe – Well, I’ve only been to the gym once in my life. I hated it. To make matters worse, I signed up to a twelve-month contract and couldn’t cancel. I had only used the bench press and I wiped it after.

JF – You probably should have used the bench press again that year – to get better value on your initial cash outlay. Or you could have tried not signing up to that gym at all. That would have been decent value, too.

LT – What I most hated about the gym was all the people exercising. They were exercising in that annoying way, you know? I couldn’t bear it.

JF – Actually, I love that way of exercising, if I know the way you mean. With shorts on, right?

LT – I’m also a keen runner and that gives me all I need. Running is the perfect way of escaping the ‘treadmill feeling’ life can give you at times, particularly from work, family etc.

JF – There is no ‘treadmill feeling’ in a gym. Anyway, if you don’t like the treadmill, use the rowing machine, yoga ball etc.

LT – And the music they played! It was thump-thump-thump. Must have been Chicago house, dubstep, early-naughties trance. Quite a good set, actually, but it was like being in a nightclub, only even sweatier.

JF – I like nightclubs. Sometimes I go straight from the gym to a nightclub without showering, though I take care to dance solo if so.

LT – No, no, no. When jogging I can only listen to BBC 5 Live. I can’t stand music – the rhythmical beat puts me off my stride. I get cramp if I can hear anything musical, even Mumford & Sons.

JF – Well, I did try jogging outdoors once, but it wasn’t for me. I got dizzy – I’m not used to moving anywhere when I jog. It seems a waste of time to me. Because you have to get back to where you started anyway, you see. In my opinion, a treadmill should be pressed into the hands of every aspiring athlete.

LT – It would squash them.

JF – You know, you have a good sense of humour – that’s funny. No one in the gym really laughs very much.

LT – Really? Thanks. Good job I don’t go the gym then – you don’t want to be making people laugh in there, while lifting heavy weights.

JF – You’ve made me laugh again.

Eurovision – Behind the Scenes

7.34 am

Doing a big gig in Germany tonight – ‘The 56th Annual Eurovision Song Contest’. Never heard of it before, but apparently it’s a pretty big deal over here. Like the Super Bowl, so I’m told, only with no football (or ‘soccer’, as you’re supposed to call it here!). Going to be lots of talking and adverts with songs in between – that’s the format. Sounds good to me. My agent seems to think it will revive album sales over here in Europe, which have been flatlining of late. Might save me from having to appear on Jonathan Ross again.

10.49am

Arrived at the venue now, but a massive hitch! Apparently you need to represent a nation-state in Europe – like France, or Czechoslovakia. V. angry with agent – beginning to think he’s not at the races. What did he think this gig was? Later with Jools Holland? Holland aren’t even in it.

10.58am

Managed to sort it out, though hardly an ideal solution. I’m to represent Lithuania, but in disguise. Need to wear a blonde wig and some worryingly tight t-shirts and spandex-like pants. Even angrier at agent, and became angrier when he laughed in my face when I was dressing. He claimed he didn’t realise it was me. ‘The disguise works!’ he said.

12.09pm

A little concerned at the quality of the competition on show during rehearsal. My agent told me that this would be ‘a potpourri of the elite performers of European music and poetry today’. The French singer has what looks like some potpourri on her head. This is as close as it seems to come to that description. Said agent nowhere to be seen. Became even angrier with him – the rest of the Lithuanian performers want me to channel that anger into the performance tonight. The song is an ambient number. Think Enya, or something.

3.59pm

I’m beginning to like this show actually. Just saw the Polish entrants performing during rehearsal – some Euro-pop number – and I really vibed with it. It reminds me of my early stuff. I mean, it isn’t as good – and there’s certainly loads more synth than I ever used – but it’s spunky, passionate, and lyrically astute. The singer gets her boobs out halfway through, I should mention. Or she did during rehearsal. Not sure whether that will happen during the actual performance (it’s a family show, although apparently Graham Norton is presenting it in Britain).

6.42pm

I can’t do this. I’m an important singer-songwriter with a reputation to protect. I don’t need ‘Eurovision’ on my scoreboard. It’s would be like Laurence Olivier appearing on CSI: Miami. My agent says I’m thinking of Laurence Fishburne, who had a recurring role in it. Another factor is the spandex-like pants, which seem to be getting tighter and may turn me into a soprano yet – this which would have further repercussions on my career. I’d have to start using autotune. Why isn’t Justin Bieber here instead? Seems like it’s more his kind of thing. My agent said he was on Jools Holland tonight.

11.38pm

The performance went as well as it could be expected, which was extremely poorly. To make matters worse, we won and have to perform it again. Very depressed. Agent has pulled Polish singer, too, whose boobs are out again. Taxi for Robert, please.

- Extract from Bob Dylan’s Diary, 14 May 2011

Superinjunction Issued

Reportedly, a ‘noted’ celebrity has been granted a superinjunction in order to prevent an embarrassing episode of their personal life from being aired in the press and subsequently analysed on The One Show. They are justifiably worried about becoming a target for mockery and on-the-money jokes by Adrian Chiles or the man that has the ‘Chiles role’ now.

[An earlier version of this article stated, in bold text, the full name of the ‘noted celebrity’, as well as outlining – in terms bordering on the gut-wrenching – above ‘embarrassing episode’ (including pics, vids, merchandise links, forwarding address). All details were redacted following the issuance of court proceedings and a 14-point demand to cease (and desist). Their lawyer also threatened to publish an 'embarrassing episode' involving me and a former ladyfriend from early ‘97, at which point I requested a superinjunction of my own. This fell through after I was unable to stump up the necessary legal fee, which exceeded the revenue of this blog.

Alternative Donald

Donald felt most keenly about the upcoming AV referendum. To him, its implications could hardly be more profound. It was a totemic moment, not just in British politics, but in Donald’s short life. He had been interested in electoral reform since an early age and attributed all of the country’s ills to the first-past-the-post electoral system that it had used for every general election in its history. To him, the system was antediluvian, barbaric, and antidemocratic.

He routed every conversation back to this point. Whenever someone happened to complain about tube strikes, bankers’ bonuses, or the consistent failure of British tennis, Donald would unfailingly cite the United Kingdom’s exhausted electoral system. He would often do this sharply.

‘It was Murray’s slump in form at the end of the third set which is most frustrating.’

‘What do you expect when you don’t have fairer votes?’

It was an inflexible approach, and it frequently drew conversations to a premature close. Donald was called strange, insane, maddening, or just plain mad. To him, it was symptomatic of the public’s naivety and before long he joined the Liberal Democrats.

Donald loved elections the same way that people used to love their birthday. He would host election ‘soirees’, to which few people turned up, even though Donald had sent out the invitations as soon as parliament had dissolved. Crucially, AV represented the chance to vote more than once, doubling (or trebling) the pleasure of the ritual.

Leading up to the day of the referendum, polling was not favourable. The ‘No to AV’ campaign looked set to win handily. Donald scoffed at this, asking whether the pollsters had conducted their research using the alternative vote system. He also wondered why he had not been polled, even though he was readily contactable during business hours. Donald did not have a girlfriend.