Whac-a-mole is a fairground/arcade game that involves hitting toy moles with a mallet, as their heads pop up out of the five holes on the game’s surface. For a better description of this, please see the following Wikipedia link; that is if you are not already conversant with the general idea.
I have a different concept of my version of this game, call it a fantasy, if you will. In my version, the machine would be large; large enough to accommodate humans. It would sit in a cellar, or shed, somewhere out of earshot, and away from prying eyes. Inside, would be the people that annoy me the most. The smug, the self-important, the self-satisfied, swollen of ego, and enjoying undeserved reputations. Those that think that they really are ‘it’, and that their music, or skills, or humour and personality are beyond criticism. They believe that what they have to say is important, and that they hold a relevant, and distinguished place in society, if not in the World itself. They see themselves as the epitome of fashion, pillars of the establishment, and believe themselves intelligent, attractive, and above others. At least, that is how I perceive them to behave; which is enough for me.
They would be ‘collected’, in some unknown way, and installed in my giant ‘Whac-a-mole’ look-alike. If they popped their heads out, for food, water, or probably just to say something that they believe is important, then they would get a good whack with the mallet. They get just enough sustenance to keep them alive, so as to prolong my enjoyment of malleting them over a period of many years. Whenever I was unable to fulfil my role, due to illness, holiday, or some other indisposition, I would make my machine available to other like-minded individuals, who would stand by, mallet ready.
So, who is on my list so far? Who, in the fantasy of beetleypete, deserves such a fate? I have no doubt that many of you will not agree with my potential candidates for insertion into the machine, to face a life in fear of the random mallet. However, it is my idea, my newly-disclosed desire, so there!
Bono. Who can like this insufferable, sunglasses-adorned, Irish warbler? (Even his ‘one name’ is so annoying, it makes me fight for breath. His real name is Paul Hewson, what’s wrong with that?) Not me, that’s for sure. he is in pride of place.
Russel Brand. This completely unfunny, so-called comedian. Devoid of charisma or personality, yet seemingly famous for his ability to seduce attractive, though generally stupid women. He gets a spot.
Bob Geldof. Former punk band front man, now turned spokesman for anything and everything Geldof. Given a knighthood, and nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, yet such a bad singer, he couldn’t fill a pub’s club room. A talentless big mouth of the highest order. It wouldn’t be my Whac-a-mole without him.
Paul McCartney. Once the co-writer of some good songs. Now an ageing, dyed-hair embarrassing, trading on former reputation, elderly scouser. He just can’t let it go. Into the machine with him.
Jimmy Carr. Desperately humourless, tax-dodging, supposedly entertaining, panel show pundit and latter-day comic. He looks weird, as if from another time (possibly the future), and of a sex somewhere between male and female. He must be one of the smuggest people to ever grace the planet with their presence. He has to be in the box.
There are so many more, I am sure you will agree. Lord Sugar, Terry Wogan, (the worst wig in the country), George Osborne (just for being alive), and I haven’t even started with the women yet. Chris Martin, Brian May (he almost pipped McCartney), musicians featuring heavily, I know. It is because they believe themselves to be so important. Boris Johnson, for pretending to be a buffoon when he clearly is not. Cliff Richard, for refusing to age and die, like a normal person. Tracey Emin, for pretending to be an artist, and making pretentious fools believe it too. The list just goes on, and on, and on.
It is fair to say then, that they should all be in there. Trouble is, there are only five holes in a ‘Whac-a-mole’. I’m going to need a much much bigger machine…