Letter From London - The Deed is Done - Humorous Gossip from London

What About Bob - 7 June

Dear Lulu,

What About Bob? Well, for starters, he’s not Bill Murray or we’d all be laughing. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck all!” Oh - it’s Bob. Sir Bob. Mad Hatter Hair Bob Geldof in search of a cause, in search of a brain.

There could be two ways to look at what Sir Bob is doing. There’s the obvious: what the fuck are you thinking? Or: hmmm - it’s an attempt at a conceptual/environmental art piece. Sir Bob’s matted homage-to-what-exactly hair may just be protecting brain cells run amuck, because it’s decidedly difficult to come up with a rational explanation for some of Sir Bob’s ideas - regardless of how forcefully he continues to yell, scream, pontificate, punctuate every sentence with the afore mentioned expletive.

Only one African has been deemed suitable for the African awareness event: Youssou N’Dour who has to perform first in Paris and then be shuttled to Hyde Park since there just aren’t any qualified musicians from Africa. “If we only had African musicians how many people would want to come?” asks Sir Bob rhetorically. What about a few? Here Bob, let me help you: Selif Keita, Baaba Maal, King Sunny Ade, Thomas Mapfumo, Lucky Dube, Ali Farke Toure, Oliver Mtukudzi, Bhundu Boys, Angelique Kidjo…best to leave out the evil Papa Wembe who may be in jail at this very moment anyway. Well Bob, it’s a start.

So Sir Bob’s overview is: white youth willing to text for 150,000 lottery tickets at £1.50 per attempt (with O2, the communications company pocketing millions of pounds) to see white mediocre musicians. Mariah Carey is considered the token black performer. I think I get it; a ‘black’ person representing the entire continent of Africa, whose skin just happens to be white. Clever. Do we see evidence of a parallel universe in operation here?

“It’s not about money. We don’t want your fucking money. It’s about awareness.” Bob! We’re aware, we’re aware. In fact, we’ve been aware for a very long time. Where were you and your awareness? And by the very nature of the power of this white kids’ collective awareness, we can assume that Mugabe will don a loin cloth and go on a hunger strike, men will kiss babies instead of raping them as an Aids prevention/cure, all the evil spirits of the dark continent will turn into good fairies and stop ‘making’ people do all those horrendous things to each other, US pharmaceutical companies will send only appropriate drugs, not those past-sell-by-date remedies for haemorrhoids, hay fever, sinus congestion and warts, all those lobbed off limbs will miraculously regenerate and the World Bank and the IMF will become sources of benevolence. Dream on.

Even if this event were altruistically inspired and not a vehicle for some sort of white-man-as-saviour complex – or even if Sir Bob simply wants to play with the old band – sadly the result will not match the effort. If you were to consider it art, Live8 might at least be entertaining rather than annoying. Picture this: a massive pilgrimage to Edinburgh that includes Sir Bob’s new initiative, Sail8. Ferries and boats of all description are being personally encouraged by Sir Bob to transport people from France to the UK. He says the point is to recreate Dunkirk. Now there’s an idea no one has thought of…presuming Dame Ellen MacArthur is going to clear all the shipping lanes first. Ah, the “long walk to justice”: African flags waving in the breeze, a million voices raised in unified song – a negro spiritual thrown in here and there – ubiquitous Make Poverty History white wrist bands, dogs, babies, picnic baskets. We’re waiting for Air8 Bob. Don’t disappoint.

Goldie Hawn is white; she could join in. Although, she was just so exhausted from holding the pen at her book signing, she failed to show for the christening of the cruise liner, Sea Princess (in her case, No See Princess), having been flown to Southampton in a private jet by the owners. She had reportedly ‘fallen ill’ from grinning. Goldie did give a subtle hint when she told an audience, who had probably queued for days in the rain: “Enough of the tour, I want to stop. It’s so much harder than film tours: I have to meet lots of people and sign so many books. I always give them eye contact.” Did I miss something? Is she giving these books away? What film tours? Was I in hospital in a comma last month while she was doing back-to-back films? This tedious, gruelling, boring ordeal has dissuaded her from considering a West End debut, following the clomping footsteps of other clambering LA stars. Has someone actually asked her as yet? “It’s the repetitive movement that I mentioned before. I can’t do the same thing again and again for very long.” Oh. As if anyone can. Goldie’s next gig could be a short visit (considering her attention span, it would have to be wouldn’t it?) to the millions of factory workers in China, to inspire them to keep working all day and all night for less than £2 a day. “But do they have certified organic there?”

Apparently not all people in the UK are as impressed with Goldie as she is with herself. According to The Independent, when she arrived at The Hay Festival in Wales, where distinguished novelists read their works-in-progress, Goldie pulled up in her limo and needed the lavatory. “You can drive to the loos on the far side of the festival site, “ said Diana Blunt (I’m not making this up, I promise), the bookshop’s charmingly direct manageress, “or you could go in that hedge over there.” Just a minute; I have to regain my composure. The suggestion may not be so far off the mark. I do recall years ago when Goldie had the dubious distinction as being ‘the least hygienic’ of Hollywood celebrities. I’m going to have to quickly "go to the beach" in my mind’s eye now.

TTFN, Maggie

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