I never realised that rock and roll groups (that’s what the kids call them nowadays isn’t it? Every now and then I like to remind you folk that I’m totally down and happening and know all the words for everything. I have all the words) were so open to suggestion. Rather than being the magnificent gods of the modern era that they consider themselves to be it turns out that they’re like meek little lambs following over to wherever it is they’re led.
Each music group just so happens to have their very own Achilles heel. I would go into a lengthy and no doubt incredibly entertaining list evaluating the foibles of each mounting to some sort of glorious conclusion that may or may not have been a scathing commentary on the state of the record industry. Would but won’t, I don’t have access to a sufficient number of riders for that variety of insider information.
But we do know the precise deal with the Rolling Stones. I know, that one’s something of a curve ball. You might have expected it to be one of the weaker willed new kids on the block like those fresh faced boys out of One Direction or JLS (are they both still a thing? You can tell where I’m at with being up to date on all these things) or quite possibly one of the hippier outfits like Coldplay.
The Rolling Stones are powered by dairy. Each one of them has dominion over a different arena of milk products from yoghurt to cheese to good old fashioned cow juice (I may or may not be unaware of how many members of the Rolling Stones there are and lack the inclination or Wi-Fi to look that particular titbit up). If people stop purchasing their product they’ll all come down with sudden and crippling laryngitis.