1977

As The Clash once sang: 'No Elvis, Beatles, or Rolling Stones / In 1977'.

Sadly I'm writing this at a time:

• Where the latter band have just had a spangly reissue of their 1972 LP Exile on Main Street enter the UK album chart at number 1.

• Where Paul 'Macca' McCartney is off on a stadium tour. I mean, he was the fricking bass-player. That's barely one step up from drummer...

• Where despite dying on the shitter, in 1977 no less, Elvis Presley is still being spotted alive, buying a fish supper in Kirsty McCall's old local chippy, no doubt.

It's as if we've learned NOTHING AT ALL from history - instead we just regurgitate it and re-enact it. I mean Christ, somehow in the UK we've managed to get a Conservative-led government in a country that hates bankers and corporate fat-cats.

Why do I care?

'Cos I was born in 1977, a year of PUNKROCK and Star Wars and the Pompidou Centre and the Commodore PET and Apple II.

A year of digital advances, musical sledgehammers, God Save The Queen (we mean it man).

And now, thirty-three years on, we're just rehashing the same old past, remaking the same movies, the same TV shows.

We're using new technology for old purposes.

We need revolution, REVOLUTION, REVOLUTION!

The Windsors, Jagger, Richards, McCartney, Ringo (no autographs peace'n'love) Starr, Cameron, Clegg, Osbourne, The Daily Mail, The Daily Telegraph, the media companies repackaging and re-promoting tired old product just because they have decided the public will think the whole thing is a wheeze and is what we wanted.

All of you. Up against the wall. Single file now, into the safe house. Now stay there. Don't leave. Don't make contact with the outside world. Let us get on with things for ourselves.

I was born in 1977 - I don't live there.