I was a big fan of Ian Dury for no particular reason other than he was bloody brilliant. I wondered why he faded away. The beats and the music and the imaginative lyrics had so much further to go.
It never occurred to me that the Righteous did it. One Tim Yeo, a pompous extrusion of foetid self-importance in a suit, a man who has no idea what any disability means but who pronounces what is best for the disabled anyway, destroyed Ian Dury for his Spasticus Autisticus song. He regarded it as insulting to the disabled but he did not realise that Ian Dury was disabled. His fans did. We'd seen him topple over at concerts when it all got too much. We knew his limits better than he did, perhaps, and we admired him for ignoring them.
Why did Righteous Tim not realise this? Because to him and his collective, the disabled sit at home feeling sorry for themselves and living as pets of the Righteous. No disabled person could possibly manage for themselves, ever. Successful band frontman? Impossible.
Now, Tim Yeo realises he was wrong. Too late, you arrogant waste of pinstripe. Ian Dury was not poking fun at the disabled with that song. He was poking fun at the Righteous who think the disabled are their property, to be looked after and controlled as if they were poodles.
Disabled is a relative term. If you have no legs then you are disabled as far as long-distance running is concerned (although amputees below the knee can get some cool spring-steel ones which look brilliant) but you are not disabled in terms of thinking and typing and slapping and punching. The fuckers never expect it, you know. Never mind punching above my weight, my first punch is going below your waist. The second goes straight in your throat as you double over. Middle knuckle out. It will take but a second. I don't fight fair. That's no way to win.
Perfectly able-bodied politicians include people I would consider seriously mentally challenged. In non-PC terms, thicker than a pile of shit sandwiched between two very thick planks and covered with thickness tape, thicko filler and a layer of Chavvo Thickener Cement which does exactly what it says on the tin if anyone on the estate can read it. Yes, Cleggeron, I'm looking at you, admittedly from lower than normal and through a haze of smoke. Oh, you can cycle and dance around being oh-so-important but think? You pay people to do that for you. I pay buses to move me around and do my thinking myself. My way is cheaper. And more efficient. I pay buses that know what they are doing. You pay people who don't. I get where I need to be. You have no idea where you are going. One of us is stupid. Go on, guess.
Ian Dury says he was not moaning in that song. He was yelling.
Tim Yeo, Righteous Inquisitor, was not listening. All he heard was 'Spastic' and drew all his conclusions from that. Disabled. Smoker. Drinker. I am not a monster. I am a human being. Try to keep that line in mind, Righteous drones, and see the person, not the clinical definition. Then you might actually turn out to be some damn use. As for me, nothing - and I mean nothing - gets me angrier than patronisation. Do it to me and I will rub chillies in your eyes and then when you're on the ground, I'll drop some crushed ones into your pants. And then massage them in with a two-pound sledgehammer. You are not dealing with a pet. You are dealing with a 168 IQ and an Italian temper. Piss me off and you will feel pain. It won't be over quickly.
An end to patronisation, to being treated as pets, won't happen any time soon. If you don't fit the BMA Standard Human format, you are 'wrong' and must be corrected. Just as those with a bit more waist than necessary are now 'obese', just as those who have never been totally drunk are now 'binge drinkers', disability is coming to a diagnosis near you very soon.
Anyway, here is Ian Dury and the Righteous Tim in the same video.
And the full song.
Tough. Get over it.