busker

Hey, hey - Get off-a my cloud

Or get off *of* my cloud, as the unfortunate younger girl is accustoming to.

Just as I ready the zimmer for the Oct 30 Key Arena Rolling Stones gig, an horrific article in the NYT about some geriatric Stones fanatics, the Shidoobees.

Makes one question not only one's own taste but the whole Keef/Sir Mick scene.

I'd ordered some cool T-shirts via my London trader that I could wear on the night and generally establish my impeccable street cred with my fellow paunchy Seattle ravers.

HowEVAH - m'lady hostess in possession of the actual tickets has screwed that pitch by pointing out that we'd look a bit odd, me 60-yr-old mutton garbed as 1960s lamb, she sashaying in at half my age, archetypal Nat Henstridge-lookalike ice maiden - dressed in her usual prim Swiss nanny gear.

Just the thought was grisly, so I sold the t-shirts for the price of one ticket and am now thinking of suggesting to Herself that we might as well just E-bay the actual seats and splurge on a decent nosh at Madoka followed by mild rocking sounds from the loudspeakers.

It's not as if Joss Stone was the intro act.

Meanwhile, a new TV show I've asked my Londoner contact to record:

Girls and Boys: Sex and British Pop

Sun 23 Oct, 9:00 pm - 10:00 pm 60mins

Love Me Do

New series telling the story of the pop music revolution of the past 40 years and how it has been driven by our very British fascination with sex and gender.

The 60s brought short skirts, long haired men in kaftans, the pill, and legalised gay sex. This is the story of gay managers like Brian Epstein; the rise of the beat groups like The Beatles and the Stones, and the new pop girls like Cilla, Marianne and Sandi, plus a more assertive generation of screaming fans. It was the start of our fascination with camp - step forward Brian Jones and Mick Jagger. With brilliant period archive footage.