The art of slacking....

April 24th – Do you remember when you were a whipper-snapper, back in the day? Do you remember having the Monday headache, the Friday ‘cold?

I never really got on with school (school didn't much get on with me either so, quid-pro-quo really and with that we parted on acrimonious terms) and I was always happy for an excuse to be off legally. Trouble was I, like so many of you reading this (who am I kidding…all two of you) had a very perspicacious mother who tended not to miss a trick which meant the opportunity for me to bunk off school with anything less than a severed limb was zilch. Y’know, I always thought girls had a head start on this one when they reached ‘that age’ ‘cos they’d got a ready-made, once a month tummy ache or headache or some such in order to spend a day at home…not that I’m either denigrating what an inconvenience these sessions could be...nor am I belittling the pain and discomfort (STOP DIGGING PETER!!!!) that could accompany them….nor am I suggesting that, faced with the same bodily cycle, boys wouldn't make as much fuss (STOP DIGGING AND STEP AWAY FROM THE SHOVEL!!!!!)…but…(NOW, PETER! NOW!!!)…….

Right, so, where were we…? Oh, yes, right, well, as I said, my mother could spot a fallacy at a hundred paces (unless it was a lesser-spotted fallacy, she could see that at 500 yards distant) so, if I wanted a clandestine day off, I’d have to be far more devious than just claiming a tummy ache or decapitation…I can remember getting a cousin of mine to write a letter claiming I’d been the victim of a ‘bilious attack’, trouble was she laid it on so thick that it seemed I was at death’s door after suffering a mugging by a particularly vicious gang of boys named William…I seem to recall visits by teachers to home, letter exchanges, punishments… I digress…excuses for missing school.

There should come a time in your life, if you mature as you should that is, when you realise you can’t just flip a bird to work/school; that you should be a responsible person and do what’s required of you in support of the team or your own self-respect. OK, there are, maybe, circumstances where a duvet-day would be a kindness to all concerned; post-hangover, say, where the sight of your rumpled, craggy face capped by hair full of last-night’s vomit and sporting the breath and temper of an excreta-eating dragon with an over-acidified stomach. That would be a thing to keep away from the workplace, I’d reckon; particularly a workplace involving close contact with anything even vaguely human. Well, as you all know, this kind of refusal to comply was nicely portrayed on Pink Floyd’s The Wall album by way of the always excellent, Comfortably Numb track. Don’t know if Dave Gilmore ever gets sick of playing it but I never tire of listening to it.

So, cut to the chase, I never thought that I’d hear of a real-life, “I feel poorly” excuse offered by one of the foremost grunge bands of the 90’s, Stone Temple Pilots no less and think;

‘If that aint rock ‘n’ roll then I don’t know what is’

A regular on my playlist, their recording of Crackerman is just sublime…sub-lime…and that’s a measure of their early work; full-on, TNP, F’EA… They lived the rock 'n' roll life to the max; played hard, loved hard, even slept hard I'd reckon and, in true rock 'n' roll' fashion, which underlined their credentials they had to cancel shows because, and I quote, 

“We have been unable to rehearse or appear for these shows due to his (Mr. Weiland’s) dependency on drugs. He is currently under a doctor's care in a medical facility.” 

Now that beats the girly excuse that I used of,
“I’m sorry Peter was away from school yesterday because of a bilious attack…” 

into a cocked hat…

Reminds me of the old joke:

Seven-year-old Billy comes into class.

"Sorry I was away yesterday, Miss, my daddy got burnt."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Billy, was it a bad burn?"

"Yes, Miss, they don't fuck about down the crematorium.

Byeee...!