Firstly, HAPPY NEW YEAR! Isn’t it exciting? Like a wonderful fresh new page of a beautiful new notebook. I love New Year. To me it is a day of hope. A chance to start fresh. To make a difference. It is a day I have been desperate for this year. 2014 was a strange one. Depending on my mood it was either the best or the worst. I think it is probably one of the hardest I have had but it certainly was full of incredible things. Mainly, my husband. I can’t say that without smiling from ear to ear.
Anyway, I don’t want to go on about the joys of New Year and reflect on my last. I want to highlight something that happened in 2015 which has offended me so much I could cry. Already!
Now, I don’t know what this Adam Lambert is, but I can tell you this. After watching the UK burn about 2 million pounds in fireworks to, what sounded like, a city bankers iPod on shuffle (Was the DJ sick? Did Boris Johnson decide upon the set list? What WAS going on with it?) My spirits started to lift when I heard the beginning of Bohemian Rhapsody. Queen.
Queen isn’t really the thing that excites me. If I am honest it is JUST Freddie Mercury. That man makes me so happy that I can hear my womb squealing. I used to listen to a few things when I was a kid. Madonna, Michael Jackson, Alison Moyet and Queen.
I remember the first time I heard them. My mum had bought the album for Christmas and she put it on, a tape obviously, in her Saab 93 Turbo. We backed out of my Granny Connies house and as the first few bars of Save Me – not a song one would perhaps play a new comer to Queen – but the words hit me and the music, the arrangement. It got into me.
Freddie Mercury’s story. Who he was. His illness. His features, his face, his movements. I was fascinated by him. His voice. I’ve never since heard a voice like his.
He is a one off. When Freddie Mercury died, Queen died.
Losing your front man, losing the man that makes your band jump out, the man that fascinates, that leaves people in awe, is a tragedy to a group like Queen. You will NEVER be what you were. In my eyes, you should never try. When Freddie died, Queen should have laid down their instruments and left it there. Until, of course, technology gave us the ability to beam him back via special effects and magic.
Last night, at around 18 minutes past midnight, the BBC allowed the most hideous thing that I have ever witnessed to happen.
They placed Adam Lambert, a make up wearing emu with leather trousers covered in, what looked like, snail slime, in front of Queen and encouraged him to squeal his obnoxious personality down the microphone whilst prancing about like a pony on acid at a Freddie Mercury fancy dress party. For, um, horses? (That happens. In the animal kingdom. By the way)
At one point he did some Ad Lib. It was like he took out his penis and urinated all over the wonderful perfection that was Freddie Mercury.
From the eye make up to the fingerless gloves to the weird pout and that strange, bizarre, strained accent he sang with, the whole thing made my eyes weep blood. My ears too. Half way through the dog had to push my chin shut with his paw because I was so aghast by the whole thing I was catching flies.
I shared my thoughts on Twitter and then I realised the mistake I had made.
The Glamberts caught up with me.
I should have learnt the perils of knocking an idol of the prepubescent. In 2013 someone tweeted “What would you like to hear from Taylor Swift?” and it appeared in my timeline on one of those horrible promotional tweet things. So I replied “Silence”
I was then the victim of cyber bullying from about twenty-five, twelve year old girls. I tried to stand my ground like an adult, reasoning with them, offering inspirational women such as doctors, engineers, world leaders but after 3 hours I gave in and I think I said something completely inappropriate to say to a girl under the age of about twenty-one.
These girls were called ‘Swiftys’ They are mega fans of Taylor Swift. Girls who have hormones running through their veins and don’t understand what those hormones mean. Girls who are of an age where they are completely self obsessed. Life is cruel, OH SO CRUEL, and the only person who could possible understand them, like EVER, is Taylor Swift. Not the other billions of women in the world who have been through puberty. No. JUST TAYLOR SWIFT.
I blocked anyone who had any passion for Taylor Swift and refused to buy my 10 year old ANY Taylor Swift from iTunes. Just in case.
Sadly, over the course of 2014, I found myself dancing round like a zulu warrior to Shake It Off. It was then I realised that Taylor Swift was ok. It was just a fan base that were mental.
Luckily for me the Glamberts don’t seem quite so unhinged. Only one of them got ‘up in my grill’ the others kind of RT’d me and then went back to snogging posters of Adam Lambert whilst playing with their Monster High dolls.
I don’t blame Adam Lambert for what he did to Queen. I actually blame Queen. Sometimes, just sometimes, a person was so incredible that you cannot, should not, replace them.
That is Freddie.
And my husband. If he ever leaves, I will buy 100 cats and sit on the internet moaning about EVERYTHING.