On 22nd September the world lost a musical legend; Chas Hodges of cockney duo Chas & Dave fame, sadly passed away. One of the all-time greats, Chas’ songwriting talents cannot go unrecognised and should be regarded with the highest esteem that could be bestowed upon an artist. Chas can be merited with penning many jaunty musical classics including – but not limited to – “Rabbit“, “Gertcha” and “Snooker Loopy“, and if I was forced to choose a personal favourite, I would be hard-pressed to pick a winner between “Ain’t No Pleasing You” and the “Sideboard Song“. Let there be no mistake here; this would not be an easy decision to make, for it would be like having to answer the question: “Who is your favourite child?” (If indeed, I had any). Needless to say, I would have liked to have said a few words sooner, but I was understandably devastated by the tragic event and needed some time to gather my thoughts and try to make some sense of it all, before I could even consider attempting to pay any kind of fitting public eulogy to this mighty fallen warrior.
Then on November 12th Stan Lee, creator of Spider Spider-Man and other Marvel superheroes, kicked the bucket too. Now despite appearances and what you would probably assume – I have never been a massive comic book fan. I do rate the stories of Alan Moore highly, including “From Hell“, “Watchmen” and “V For Vendetta“, but generally speaking, I stopped taking any interest in comics just before my balls dropped. Still, Stan Lee’s demise does not deserve to go unmentioned.
And why do I speak of the sad and untimely loss of these two titans of entertainment here; one of them in the highest echelons of the art sphere and one of the most influential innovators of the last 100 years, and the other one, Stan Lee? Simply because in addition to them expiring only a few months apart, they also happened to share a birthday: 28th December.
But this, then, poses a further question: Why should this fact trouble me so much? Because this significant date is also the birth date of another artistic and creative colossus who goes by the name of Thomas Ketamine Fogarty. AKA me.
Now I’m not one to jump to ridiculous conclusions, and am certainly not prone to bouts paranoia, but if celebs who share my birthday are all snuffing it in the same year, it is clear that I have been earmarked for termination as well. Death is out to get me. And soon.
Luckily, I am one of this world’s natural tough guys, so instead of shitting my pants, I have kept a rational head, and have calmly carried on with my day-to-day business as usual, confident in my ability to leap into action at a moment’s notice like a coiled spring – if required and if the circumstances arise. Those are instincts that can’t be faked or learnt. You either have them or you don’t.
Now what fucker would possibly want to kill the King of Camberwell? A quick google search reveals that there are no drill videos threatening to gun me down, so there must be a higher evil at work here, maybe an alignment of the stars or some sort of gypsy curse placed upon me by one of the beggar women that I regularly spit on in the street? It is hard to fathom out the motives, but there are some very sick and jealous individuals out there; bitter souls who begrudge the popularity and success of bold, handsome and witty devils like me.
Well unlike John Lennon, John F. Kennedy and some bloke called Gandhi, Tom Fogarty is always ready. If Denzel Washington or John Legend drop down dead before the year is out you’ll know my words are true, but I’ll have gone underground* by then. I’ll be back…
*Underground in my secret bunker, not in a coffin.