“Look, I don’t know who you are or what camp you belong to,” snapped a harried-sounding NME staffer via telephone from London, “but there’s a war going on, in case you hadn’t logged in. And frankly, such serious issues far out-weigh any concerns I might have about rejecting this so-called “rock star” and his pathetic – no, freak it: AMATEUR attempt at a live review. Of Massive Attack, for freak’s sake – Massive Attack. Davey Dreamnation doesn’t give a damn about the war in Iraq. Now, grow up.”
An official Davey Dreamnation press conference is being planned for tomorrow morning (Majorca time) but it is rumoured that no less than eight elder statesmen of 1980s rock and beyond will perform in support of Davey’s cause(s).
“That’s right,” bleated an obviously out-of-sorts Scaramouche this afternoon outside the entrance to his neatly-swept enclosure, “Sir Nik Kershaw, Sir Mark Knopfler, Sirs Tears For Fears and Sir Spandau Ballet will be in the escort party, but as for those in attendance this evening, that’ll cost you five jars of marmalade.”
Sources a little closer to Davey along the food chain suggest that Davey is in the midst of a protracted battle with his demons.
“It’s like my blue turtles,” mused Stung, just yards away from the scene of “one of the most amazing outbursts of personal invective I’ve ever heard. No – witnessed. No – not witnessed, endured. That’s it. I mean, the symptoms, the repercussions, the angst – I’ve seen it all before. It’s hell, no doubting that. But I came through it, and so can Davey.”
When asked to confirm whether Davey’s rumoured “incendiary” new single may in fact be a rap anthem, Stung (and the llama) scurried back inside the electrified Camp Davey compound, refusing to accept even one clinker.