Ha, how did we forget this?
There seemed to be rather a lot of complimentary tickets going begging when little Mr. Numan played Auckland all those decades ago. The only impression I can recall, from an underwhelmed concertgoer: "How many different meals can you get out of a packet of Weetbix?"
the high water mark of human civilisation, imho.
Nice how this thread's strayed from Talcy Malcy.
What the hell, here's something with no aspirations to funk or deeper significance:
There are worse things - like Musclebound.
Heaven 17 . . . although not to everyone's taste I'm sure...
Heaven 17: prime exponents of flink, a Murray Cammick word for that peculiarly British form of sub-funk. They certainly gave the impression that they were enjoying themselves, something that Utravox and The Human League (turn a lemon on!) could never be accused of.
Bob Mould's Workbook
On reflection, Ra-Ra Rasputin sounds quite appealing
. . . Russia's greatest love machine. That's what immediately sprang to mind when I read your post above. Pray they don't use the godawful Ma Baker.
Frankly, the number of reasonably smart people I've met over the years who don't understand the difference between memory and storage, or who've lost their work somewhere on their hard disks and want me to help find it, is disgraceful.
Computers are like toilets, everyone uses them, but there'll always be those who'll pee on the floor. Unlike IT types, restroom cleaners were never under any illusion that the world was going to kiss their asses for the grubby but necessary role they fulfilled.
"I downloaded Kick-Ass IV onto my iPad the other night -- what a dag!
I once knew a guy who really did talk like that. He'd wear the same Garfield t-shirt five days in a row.
Just when you were feeling good about Sandie:
Well f*ck me. If only she'd done it in blackface.
It took nearly twenty years before I realised that her name was intended as some kind of pun.
Khrist, that second video! Unknown to me until now. Never could raise much interest in the Joboxers back then.
Most of Dire Straits' videos appeared to be directed by hairdressers. So did McLaren's, post Pistols.