I watched 'Whatever Happened To Baby Jane' again the other night and the parallels to be drawn between that film and the rags are quite amusing. Both are grotesque imitations of what they once were, desperately clinging on to faded glories, trying to turn the clocks back to a time when they were relevant. Overseen by a bitter, drink-sodden, egotistical octogenarian whose grip on realty is loosening with every passing second.
Dress it up anyway you can, you revolting çuntish raggies, you were a spent force 20 years ago, and your downward spiralling trajectory is only going to gather further momentum the more you try to deny how shit you are.
It's like you've been disembowelled and you're reaching for a sticking plaster.