A Drinking Song

For what I imagine will be fairly obvious reasons, tonight’s post will not be about football or politics.

Instead, as this appears to be my 600th post (how did that happen??), something to raise a glass to and a voice along with on a Friday night.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how I’ve never really been fond of musicals. It’s not the songs: I love The Proclaimers, but hated the jukebox movie “Sunshine on Leith”; I quite like some ABBA records, but have no intention whatsoever of ever sitting through “Mama Mia!” (unless I have it on x30).

But the other day, I heard that the creator of US drama series “The Wire”, David Simon, along with his  wife, crime novelist Laura Lippman, and fellow thriller writer George Pelecanos,  is writing a musical based upon the music of The Pogues. Spider Stacey is apparently involved in the creative process somehow too.  I have to admit, I’m intrigued and maybe a little tempted too.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the show, for a time it was touted as the greatest drama series ever made (that was just after “The Sopranos” stopped being described as such, and right before “Breaking Bad” gained the top spot). A few years ago, when I found myself unemployed, my brother loaned me the box set. I, of course, ignored it until I started working again, at which point I suddenly found myself binge-watching it every evening when I got home.

I’ll assume you know the premise and plot of “The Wire” by now, but suffice to say if you’ve watched it, you’ll not be surprised to learn of this new Simon/Pogues link, since one of their songs features in a couple of episodes of the show.

This one, from the first ever record I bought by The Pogues:

The Pogues - Poguetry In Motion EP

The Pogues – The Body of an American

Some of you will know that several of my blogging peers are meeting up this weekend: a Bloggers Summit, if you will. Kind of like “Avengers Assemble”, only with less CGI and many, many more references to obscure UK Subs’ B-sides.

I was invited to attend (and was immensely flattered to have been, I must say) but sadly was unable to make it.

So, to all of them, this one’s for you. I hope it goes just like the words to the song:

“The men all started telling jokes
And the women they got frisky
By five o’clock in the evening
Every bastard there was piskey.”

Have a great weekend, make sure you down a drink or seven for me.

More soon.