The Princess Diana Memorial Concert: A Special Report
Because no-one demanded it…
For those of you in a permanent state of amnesia and unable to remember events from one moment to the next, a few years ago Britain’s Princess Diana died in an automobile accident in France. The accident wasn’t her fault although if she’d been wearing her seat-belt, she may well have lived to warm the cockles of the nation’s hearts for a few years more.
So far so Paris Pancake Princess.
Also a few months later the citizens of the United States Of America elected it’s first wizard President. President Zanathor of the Seven Mystic Keys of Ur-P’thakk will be fondly remembered for his conference with Russian Premier Boris Yeltsin during which he produced a series of pigeon’s eggs from behind the Soviet Vodka-holic leader’s ear. There was also the scandal involving a drab intern by the name of Moronica Thrimble who was turned into a newt during a private meeting in the Oval Office (which had been renamed The Crucible Of Torments). It’s true my amnesiac friends, check it out.
Trot on a decade or so and Diana’s sons, Prince Hitler and Prince Toff-Twat-Arse are planning a Princess Diana Memorial Concert. All well and good I hear you weep but I for one have three major issues with the planned Mourn-o-ganza and these issues are the words “Diana”, “Memorial” and “Concert”.
Let’s examine those words and their connotations in greater depth (caution: the following may feature a ritual stamping upon the memory of the Princess Of Hearts™ and may be unsuitable for those of a stupid disposition).
DIANA
Lady Diana has joined a select group which includes John F Kennedy (the ‘F’ interestingly stood for ‘Fuck’), Marilyn Monroe, Bruce Lee, Kurt Cobain and Dale Winton all of whom have died with their deaths inspiring conspiracy theories. In the cases of Kennedy and Monroe the evidence is compelling, for Lee it’s thought-provoking and for Cobain and Winton the theories are tenuous at best.
Although much has been made of the fact that Diana’s death may have saved the Royal Family a good deal of embarrassment and that it paved the way for Prince Charles to marry his horse, rather than being a cause for suspicion, Diana’s death should probably be considered to be the least mysterious death in the history of not being alive.
Princess Diana died from injuries that she sustained in a car crash. The car was being driven at between 70 and 100mph by a man so drunk that passers-by became intoxicated by osmosis. While speeding along Terence Trent D’arby Tunnel in the area of Paris known as “Le Wanky”, Diana’s car narrowly avoided a collision with a white Fiat Uno (possibly driven by blundering Gallic detective Inspector Clouseau) but failed to avoid a collision with a big wall. If I was writing for The News Of The World I’d write “like some hellish game of ping-pong, Our Princess Of Hearts’™ brum-brum rebounded off the Froggy wall and ker-smack-smashed into a big pillar. Diana (godresthersoul) was so splatty that ambulance men had to carry her to the hospital in a series of Italian-style espresso cups which are made extra-small because of science.”
If I had died in similar circumstances your first thought would most likely be no thought at all. Guy killed in drunked-up moto-prang. The world continues to turn. So what?
Your second thought may well have been “So he was taking it in the ass from Dodi Fayed huh? Interesting…”
For the record, I have never allowed any of the Fayed family to enter my rectal regions.
If anything, it could be suggested that Diana rigged her own suicide in order to kick-start the cult of maudlin fuckwittery that writhes along in her wake. Perhaps through the power of belief she will lIVE again as Dianor the thrice-damned soul drinking Princess Of Hearts™. Her holy book shall be The Daily Express and only one hymn shall be sung in tribute to her and you all know what that is.
Aside from the tendrils of stupidity that keep obscuring any rational view that anyone can possibly have on the matter, it is fair to say that her death was tragic. She died young-ish in a car accident which also claimed the life of her boyfriend which is a scenario so quintessentially tragic that it should be added to The Dictionary Of Tragedy (now online as Tragipedia!).
Fun fact:
Other events recorded in The Dictionary Of Tragedy include “The time that Young Alf the kitten stubbed his toe” and “That fucking awful Michael Richards interview on Letterman”.
Particularly crap is the suspicion that the car was being driven at such naughty speeds to escape Paparazzi who were desperate to snap pics of Our Sacred Lady Of Flowers And Happiness™ for the entertainment of braindead neo-peons.
Exit pursued by twats.
I googled “Paparazzi” and all I got was this disturbing image. Catamites with Cameras.
At the time the amazingly repugnant Daily Express had been printing grainy photographs of the People’s Princess™ - taken through long lenses over walls and under hedges - on an almost daily basis.
After DDDD-day (Diana and Dodi’s Deadly Death day) the Express got a fair amount of stick, though not quite as much as they should have done. Most likely other media outlets were slow to criticise them for fear of having the microscope turned upon themselves. The problem with living in shit is that it’s often difficult to complain about the smell of your neighbours.
More about the Daily Express later, but suffice to say that Britain’s Favourite Princess™ didn’t go the way that many would have liked her to go. Personally I’d like to have seen her stuffed to the gills with Chewits and detonated over the city of Wolverhampton as a kind of Piñata Of Hearts™
This tragic and possibly untimely death was the perfect fuel for a cult of Diana which fits the maudlin celeb-obsessed parasites that infect Britain like a glove. I don’t begrudge her the amazingly overblown funeral because - as crap as it was - as a former member of the Royal Family it was due to her if only to stop one million sub-idiotic Britons just turning up at the church. I don’t begrudge the Elton John tribute song largely because just slightly altering the words to a song that you’ve already written about someone else is a tribute so half-arsed that it renders the entire thing a farce.
I mean come on Elton, you cock-chobbling dullard, even I could do better than that. To prove that rather bold statement I have rewritten the lyrics to top cock-er-nee music hall song “My Old Man” so that it’s now a heartfelt tribute to the Princess Diana (Of Hearts)™:
My old man said "Follow the van,
And don't dilly dally on the way".
Off went the van wiv me 'ome packed in it,
I walked behind wiv me old cock linnet.
But I dillied and dallied, dallied and I dillied
Lost me way and don't know where to roam.
Well you can't trust a special like the old time coppers
When you can't find your way 'ome
DIANA’S DEAD AND SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
YOU KILLED HER, YOU FUCKS
YOU KILLED HER AND SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
What really grates is that Diana Supporters (two words which when joined together have precisely the same meaning as “Jizz-gulping donkey fellators”) pass off the most uninspiring facts about her as if they’re a cause to have her deified.
The Flame Of Liberty: a tribute to Diana at the mouth of Le Tunnel De Royale Morte. I think it looks like a really big poo. Or maybe a croissant. The Croissant Of Liberty?
“She was so beautiful” Really? Was she? I’d have said that she was above-average at best. A bit too mumsy for me quite frankly.
“She shook hands with a guy what had an AIDS!” True but like many Royals, she had her hands removed immediately after and new hands were grafted on in a matter of seconds. This is a common procedure amongst the Royals and is for our protection as much as theirs.
“She did so much work for charity” so do the repugnantly ugly cleaning ladies that scrub the toilets where I work but I don’t see no tribute fountains for them. Unless of course you call the volcanic sprays of shit which someone keeps doing in the second cubicle a “Tribute Fountain”.
My personal favourite is “She gave so much of her time”. Of course she did. One thing that we can all be pretty sure of is that Princesses have stacks and stacks of time. Really, think of all the things you know about Princesses and see if any of those things involve working in Tescos.
I know a story about a Princess that Kissed a frog (the frog later filed a sexual harrasment law-suit). I know a story about a Princess that did a pee through a mattress. The hard-hitting documentary series Super Mario Bros has taught us that Princesses can be expected to be kidnapped on an hourly basis.
My personal favourite Princess though is Princess Stephanie of Monaco because she’s the only Royal person that I know of who’s been pictured in a magazine having a wank, as can be seen here.
Wanking, widdling. Sexually molesting amphibians and continuous abductions. It’s not hod-carrying is it?
So Diana: A slightly attractive over-privileged toff with Borderline Personality Disorder who did a bit of work for charity and died because she was too dim to know that if you’re going to let Oliver Reed drive you home then you probably shouldn’t let him put his foot down.
MEMORIAL
I have no shitting clue as to why the planet needs more Diana memorials. We already have a crap fountain, the French have a crap croissant and every single day we have The Daily Express, a newspaper which ensures that there is no danger of anyone forgetting any time soon that Diana died for our sins (despite the fact that they were paying photographers who routinely made her life a misery).
Super-good thing Wikipedia has this to say about Britain’s most fucking useless newspaper:
“The Daily Express has a reputation for consistently printing conspiracy theories based on the death of Princess Diana as front page news; this is often satirised in Private Eye and the newspaper is joked as being called the Diana Express or the Di'ly Express. Even on July 7, 2006, the anniversary of the London bombings (used by most other newspapers to publish commemorations) the front page was given over to Diana. This tendency has also been satirised by the website Mailwatch, which satirises and discusses the Express, the Daily Mail, and other newspapers. BBC News Online's Magazine Monitor has frequently noted that articles about Princess Diana are often printed on Mondays regardless of the existence of more pressing news.
As of December 8, 2006 the Daily Express has devoted its front page to Diana on 51 occasions during 2006 alone. For the week beginning August 27, 2006, the paper printed the "Diana Dossier" in which it claimed to ask all the questions related to the death. Diana was on the front page every day (except Sunday) that week.”
I asked top cultural commentator and skateboard enthusiast Ricky Tubular for a deconstruction of the Daily Express phenomenon.
“Radical! Oh man, my hang-time is boss! Dude! Daily Express though dude, that is so not cool. Daily Express is whack, dude.
In fact if you read the Daily Express then you deserve to have be hoisted into the air by pins driven part-way into your skull. Then while candle-flames lick at the souls of your feet, your jaw should be dislocated while your eyes are gradually extracted from their sockets and replaced by angry vinegar-soaked scorpions. As your fingers are gently smashed with toffee-hammers you should be forced to defecate, consume your issue and then defecate again thereby creating a cycle of disgust. Just before your kneecaps are smashed, removed and then driven through your heart, your stomach will be opened and a large hot coal in the shape of a foetus will be planted there until you give birth any way you are fucking able.
Gnarly! Peace out.”
Neither myself nor Ricky Tubular are in favour of a memorial.
CONCERT
I understand that for this memorial to be a success, only mainstream acts can be booked. Still, as the acts are supposed to represent the musical tastes of Diana and her sons, it says that between the three of them they haven’t a fucking clue. Actually, that’s not strictly true because Diana was said to be a big fan of Swamp Blues lunatic Captain Beefheart, but I suppose that your musical tastes become blander as you get older and deader. I mean, you might well be planning to have “Black Flames and Blood” by Barathrum at your funeral but you just know that some nonce is just going to play “Angels” by Robbie Williams instead. “It’s what he/she would have wanted” they’ll say. “It fucking isn’t” you’ll say. In hell.
Wouldn’t it be great though to see the faces on thousands of terrified Diana-ites as some Captain Beefheart tribute band belts out “Ice-cream for croooooooow!” We can only fantasise.
Remember ages ago when I put up this picture of Good Friends cereal that I’d potatoshopped to include a Jew and Josef Mengele? Yes, it was funny wasn’t it?
Particularly tragic is the addition of hipple-hopper Pharrell Williams. Now, I have no idea about this Williams aside from the fact that he’s a rapper. This means that Prince Charles, a posh old white guy is going to be forced to attend and will have to listen to rap and pretend to enjoy it and let me tell you, he’s not going to like that at all man. I remember when my Dad heard Sean Paul, I thought that he was going to collapse from culture-shock alone.
Still, I bet that was a funny invitation. “Oi Charles, we’re having this big love-fest for your dead ex-wife. You know, the one which everyone thinks was killed on your orders. Well anyway, there’ll be rap and pop music and Joss Stone whoever the fuck he is. You will be there won’t you?”
Elton John is of course going to be there too. With his ten year-old’s haircut he’ll most likely be singing Candle In The Bastard Wind. Some people say that Sir Elton gives homosexuals a bad name. I say that he gives bipedal life a bad name.
Announcing the concert, Prince William said: "We both wanted to put our stamp on it. We want it to represent exactly what our mother would have wanted.”
Really, are you sure that your mother would have wanted a memorial concert to herself? I think she would have preferred just not to be dead, thusly rendering a memorial concert unnecessary. Less money for memorials and asylum seekers and more money for Princess resurrections.
And that’s it. I have no idea what my original point was but I’m sure you’ll agree that it was well made and is a fine tribute to Dirty Diana, one of Michael Jackson’s best-loved hits.
For those of you in a permanent state of amnesia and unable to remember events from one moment to the next, a few years ago Britain’s Princess Diana died in an automobile accident in France. The accident wasn’t her fault although if she’d been wearing her seat-belt, she may well have lived to warm the cockles of the nation’s hearts for a few years more.
So far so Paris Pancake Princess.
Also a few months later the citizens of the United States Of America elected it’s first wizard President. President Zanathor of the Seven Mystic Keys of Ur-P’thakk will be fondly remembered for his conference with Russian Premier Boris Yeltsin during which he produced a series of pigeon’s eggs from behind the Soviet Vodka-holic leader’s ear. There was also the scandal involving a drab intern by the name of Moronica Thrimble who was turned into a newt during a private meeting in the Oval Office (which had been renamed The Crucible Of Torments). It’s true my amnesiac friends, check it out.
Trot on a decade or so and Diana’s sons, Prince Hitler and Prince Toff-Twat-Arse are planning a Princess Diana Memorial Concert. All well and good I hear you weep but I for one have three major issues with the planned Mourn-o-ganza and these issues are the words “Diana”, “Memorial” and “Concert”.
Let’s examine those words and their connotations in greater depth (caution: the following may feature a ritual stamping upon the memory of the Princess Of Hearts™ and may be unsuitable for those of a stupid disposition).
DIANA
Lady Diana has joined a select group which includes John F Kennedy (the ‘F’ interestingly stood for ‘Fuck’), Marilyn Monroe, Bruce Lee, Kurt Cobain and Dale Winton all of whom have died with their deaths inspiring conspiracy theories. In the cases of Kennedy and Monroe the evidence is compelling, for Lee it’s thought-provoking and for Cobain and Winton the theories are tenuous at best.
Although much has been made of the fact that Diana’s death may have saved the Royal Family a good deal of embarrassment and that it paved the way for Prince Charles to marry his horse, rather than being a cause for suspicion, Diana’s death should probably be considered to be the least mysterious death in the history of not being alive.
Princess Diana died from injuries that she sustained in a car crash. The car was being driven at between 70 and 100mph by a man so drunk that passers-by became intoxicated by osmosis. While speeding along Terence Trent D’arby Tunnel in the area of Paris known as “Le Wanky”, Diana’s car narrowly avoided a collision with a white Fiat Uno (possibly driven by blundering Gallic detective Inspector Clouseau) but failed to avoid a collision with a big wall. If I was writing for The News Of The World I’d write “like some hellish game of ping-pong, Our Princess Of Hearts’™ brum-brum rebounded off the Froggy wall and ker-smack-smashed into a big pillar. Diana (godresthersoul) was so splatty that ambulance men had to carry her to the hospital in a series of Italian-style espresso cups which are made extra-small because of science.”
If I had died in similar circumstances your first thought would most likely be no thought at all. Guy killed in drunked-up moto-prang. The world continues to turn. So what?
Your second thought may well have been “So he was taking it in the ass from Dodi Fayed huh? Interesting…”
For the record, I have never allowed any of the Fayed family to enter my rectal regions.
If anything, it could be suggested that Diana rigged her own suicide in order to kick-start the cult of maudlin fuckwittery that writhes along in her wake. Perhaps through the power of belief she will lIVE again as Dianor the thrice-damned soul drinking Princess Of Hearts™. Her holy book shall be The Daily Express and only one hymn shall be sung in tribute to her and you all know what that is.
Aside from the tendrils of stupidity that keep obscuring any rational view that anyone can possibly have on the matter, it is fair to say that her death was tragic. She died young-ish in a car accident which also claimed the life of her boyfriend which is a scenario so quintessentially tragic that it should be added to The Dictionary Of Tragedy (now online as Tragipedia!).
Fun fact:
Other events recorded in The Dictionary Of Tragedy include “The time that Young Alf the kitten stubbed his toe” and “That fucking awful Michael Richards interview on Letterman”.
Particularly crap is the suspicion that the car was being driven at such naughty speeds to escape Paparazzi who were desperate to snap pics of Our Sacred Lady Of Flowers And Happiness™ for the entertainment of braindead neo-peons.
Exit pursued by twats.
I googled “Paparazzi” and all I got was this disturbing image. Catamites with Cameras.
At the time the amazingly repugnant Daily Express had been printing grainy photographs of the People’s Princess™ - taken through long lenses over walls and under hedges - on an almost daily basis.
After DDDD-day (Diana and Dodi’s Deadly Death day) the Express got a fair amount of stick, though not quite as much as they should have done. Most likely other media outlets were slow to criticise them for fear of having the microscope turned upon themselves. The problem with living in shit is that it’s often difficult to complain about the smell of your neighbours.
More about the Daily Express later, but suffice to say that Britain’s Favourite Princess™ didn’t go the way that many would have liked her to go. Personally I’d like to have seen her stuffed to the gills with Chewits and detonated over the city of Wolverhampton as a kind of Piñata Of Hearts™
This tragic and possibly untimely death was the perfect fuel for a cult of Diana which fits the maudlin celeb-obsessed parasites that infect Britain like a glove. I don’t begrudge her the amazingly overblown funeral because - as crap as it was - as a former member of the Royal Family it was due to her if only to stop one million sub-idiotic Britons just turning up at the church. I don’t begrudge the Elton John tribute song largely because just slightly altering the words to a song that you’ve already written about someone else is a tribute so half-arsed that it renders the entire thing a farce.
I mean come on Elton, you cock-chobbling dullard, even I could do better than that. To prove that rather bold statement I have rewritten the lyrics to top cock-er-nee music hall song “My Old Man” so that it’s now a heartfelt tribute to the Princess Diana (Of Hearts)™:
My old man said "Follow the van,
And don't dilly dally on the way".
Off went the van wiv me 'ome packed in it,
I walked behind wiv me old cock linnet.
But I dillied and dallied, dallied and I dillied
Lost me way and don't know where to roam.
Well you can't trust a special like the old time coppers
When you can't find your way 'ome
DIANA’S DEAD AND SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
YOU KILLED HER, YOU FUCKS
YOU KILLED HER AND SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK
What really grates is that Diana Supporters (two words which when joined together have precisely the same meaning as “Jizz-gulping donkey fellators”) pass off the most uninspiring facts about her as if they’re a cause to have her deified.
The Flame Of Liberty: a tribute to Diana at the mouth of Le Tunnel De Royale Morte. I think it looks like a really big poo. Or maybe a croissant. The Croissant Of Liberty?
“She was so beautiful” Really? Was she? I’d have said that she was above-average at best. A bit too mumsy for me quite frankly.
“She shook hands with a guy what had an AIDS!” True but like many Royals, she had her hands removed immediately after and new hands were grafted on in a matter of seconds. This is a common procedure amongst the Royals and is for our protection as much as theirs.
“She did so much work for charity” so do the repugnantly ugly cleaning ladies that scrub the toilets where I work but I don’t see no tribute fountains for them. Unless of course you call the volcanic sprays of shit which someone keeps doing in the second cubicle a “Tribute Fountain”.
My personal favourite is “She gave so much of her time”. Of course she did. One thing that we can all be pretty sure of is that Princesses have stacks and stacks of time. Really, think of all the things you know about Princesses and see if any of those things involve working in Tescos.
I know a story about a Princess that Kissed a frog (the frog later filed a sexual harrasment law-suit). I know a story about a Princess that did a pee through a mattress. The hard-hitting documentary series Super Mario Bros has taught us that Princesses can be expected to be kidnapped on an hourly basis.
My personal favourite Princess though is Princess Stephanie of Monaco because she’s the only Royal person that I know of who’s been pictured in a magazine having a wank, as can be seen here.
Wanking, widdling. Sexually molesting amphibians and continuous abductions. It’s not hod-carrying is it?
So Diana: A slightly attractive over-privileged toff with Borderline Personality Disorder who did a bit of work for charity and died because she was too dim to know that if you’re going to let Oliver Reed drive you home then you probably shouldn’t let him put his foot down.
MEMORIAL
I have no shitting clue as to why the planet needs more Diana memorials. We already have a crap fountain, the French have a crap croissant and every single day we have The Daily Express, a newspaper which ensures that there is no danger of anyone forgetting any time soon that Diana died for our sins (despite the fact that they were paying photographers who routinely made her life a misery).
Super-good thing Wikipedia has this to say about Britain’s most fucking useless newspaper:
“The Daily Express has a reputation for consistently printing conspiracy theories based on the death of Princess Diana as front page news; this is often satirised in Private Eye and the newspaper is joked as being called the Diana Express or the Di'ly Express. Even on July 7, 2006, the anniversary of the London bombings (used by most other newspapers to publish commemorations) the front page was given over to Diana. This tendency has also been satirised by the website Mailwatch, which satirises and discusses the Express, the Daily Mail, and other newspapers. BBC News Online's Magazine Monitor has frequently noted that articles about Princess Diana are often printed on Mondays regardless of the existence of more pressing news.
As of December 8, 2006 the Daily Express has devoted its front page to Diana on 51 occasions during 2006 alone. For the week beginning August 27, 2006, the paper printed the "Diana Dossier" in which it claimed to ask all the questions related to the death. Diana was on the front page every day (except Sunday) that week.”
I asked top cultural commentator and skateboard enthusiast Ricky Tubular for a deconstruction of the Daily Express phenomenon.
“Radical! Oh man, my hang-time is boss! Dude! Daily Express though dude, that is so not cool. Daily Express is whack, dude.
In fact if you read the Daily Express then you deserve to have be hoisted into the air by pins driven part-way into your skull. Then while candle-flames lick at the souls of your feet, your jaw should be dislocated while your eyes are gradually extracted from their sockets and replaced by angry vinegar-soaked scorpions. As your fingers are gently smashed with toffee-hammers you should be forced to defecate, consume your issue and then defecate again thereby creating a cycle of disgust. Just before your kneecaps are smashed, removed and then driven through your heart, your stomach will be opened and a large hot coal in the shape of a foetus will be planted there until you give birth any way you are fucking able.
Gnarly! Peace out.”
Neither myself nor Ricky Tubular are in favour of a memorial.
CONCERT
I understand that for this memorial to be a success, only mainstream acts can be booked. Still, as the acts are supposed to represent the musical tastes of Diana and her sons, it says that between the three of them they haven’t a fucking clue. Actually, that’s not strictly true because Diana was said to be a big fan of Swamp Blues lunatic Captain Beefheart, but I suppose that your musical tastes become blander as you get older and deader. I mean, you might well be planning to have “Black Flames and Blood” by Barathrum at your funeral but you just know that some nonce is just going to play “Angels” by Robbie Williams instead. “It’s what he/she would have wanted” they’ll say. “It fucking isn’t” you’ll say. In hell.
Wouldn’t it be great though to see the faces on thousands of terrified Diana-ites as some Captain Beefheart tribute band belts out “Ice-cream for croooooooow!” We can only fantasise.
Remember ages ago when I put up this picture of Good Friends cereal that I’d potatoshopped to include a Jew and Josef Mengele? Yes, it was funny wasn’t it?
Particularly tragic is the addition of hipple-hopper Pharrell Williams. Now, I have no idea about this Williams aside from the fact that he’s a rapper. This means that Prince Charles, a posh old white guy is going to be forced to attend and will have to listen to rap and pretend to enjoy it and let me tell you, he’s not going to like that at all man. I remember when my Dad heard Sean Paul, I thought that he was going to collapse from culture-shock alone.
Still, I bet that was a funny invitation. “Oi Charles, we’re having this big love-fest for your dead ex-wife. You know, the one which everyone thinks was killed on your orders. Well anyway, there’ll be rap and pop music and Joss Stone whoever the fuck he is. You will be there won’t you?”
Elton John is of course going to be there too. With his ten year-old’s haircut he’ll most likely be singing Candle In The Bastard Wind. Some people say that Sir Elton gives homosexuals a bad name. I say that he gives bipedal life a bad name.
Announcing the concert, Prince William said: "We both wanted to put our stamp on it. We want it to represent exactly what our mother would have wanted.”
Really, are you sure that your mother would have wanted a memorial concert to herself? I think she would have preferred just not to be dead, thusly rendering a memorial concert unnecessary. Less money for memorials and asylum seekers and more money for Princess resurrections.
And that’s it. I have no idea what my original point was but I’m sure you’ll agree that it was well made and is a fine tribute to Dirty Diana, one of Michael Jackson’s best-loved hits.