Robbie Williams was so worn out by his string of one night stands he had to have a vitamin injection in his bottom, it has been claimed. Meanwhile, Paris Hilton is giving up sex for a year. The Borkowski poet in residence senses a worrying trend developing…
The doors of perception are closing.
The stones are no longer rolling.
All the kinks are being ironed from pop stars.
They are betraying their calling.
Once, pop stars were priapic and crazy,
a Dionysian joy to behold
but in this world of mass consumption
they’re becoming quiet and cold.
All the drugs are being swept from the table
(it’s the models who take them instead)
and casual sex is just too exhausting.
Pop stars would rather sleep in their beds.
Even Robbie Williams is hard pressed
to maintain a hard on of worth
and needs anally inserted vitamins
to a achieve some sexual rebirth
and tabloid doyenne Paris Hilton
is giving up sex for a year
just before releasing a record
and getting her pop star career into gear.
A pop star should be a pointer
to the way the world will turn next.
If they all become venal, mechanical,
callow and undersexed
then the future is bleaker than England’s
hopes of ever winning the World Cup.
Pop stars need a headbutt from Zidane
to wake and to shake them all up.
If booze, sex and song walk hand in hand
the world will be a better place.
The messier the fall out the easier it is
for the public to reach out and embrace
a true icon of humanity’s failings
who fucks and fucks up and vents spleen.
One cannot love or learn
from a tabloid doll who’s been scrubbed too impossibly clean.