Selling out to Piers Morgan

Stuart McHugh
Stuart McHugh

So there I was in the garden, petrol can in hand, Nirvana albums on the bonfire, when I realised that the beardy character plugging the National Lottery wasn’t Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, but Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen.

Should have guessed though – Grohl is regarded as one of rock’s good guys and unlikely to endorse such consumerist nonsense.

However, a musician has to make a crust and there are worse things to advertise, I suppose.

But the most heinous thing about LawBo/Grohl’s mug on the page of every national paper wasn’t the association with starter gambling.

Oh no, it was Piers Morgan. Sadly, a prime TV slot means that D-listers with a book to flog will swallow any remaining pride and self-respect to allow the Teflon-coated former tabloid hack to probe them in front of an audience of millions.

One man whose reputation has walked a thin line for many years is former Sex Pistol John Lydon. There is the cash-ins – ‘The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle’ album and film. And surely the Pistols credit card was ironic, a bit like Lydon selling butter to fund his next PiL album?

But Piers Morgan?

Still, could be worse – we’ll draw a veil over ‘Gary’ and the Xmas ‘Gang Show’ I took my mother to in the early 1990s. That is certainly not a story for another day.