Gah. I hate Rod Liddle
Actually. I don’t think that’s much of a claim to fame is it. I mean be honest. Hands up who likes Rod Liddle. Up and high! There. Three of you. In the whole world. Probably family or something. Hating Rod Liddle is a pretty easy thing to say. I’m not talking the hating him in the wishing a cancerous death on him and hoping people queue up to defecate on his grave hate. He’d probably take it as some sort of backhanded compliment – to have commanded such a visceral feeling in people. Besides he’s too stupid to queue up and hate. Let’s face it. In the evil empire stakes he’s no Rupert Murdoch or Paul Dacre. Probably not even a Richard Littlejohn or Melanie Philips. More of a Liz Jones – a languid hate figure – like the little devil’s advocate who pops up when you have a good idea and bores you out of it.
But my hatred of Rod Liddle isn’t based purely on the words that come out of that self-congratulatory cakehole of his or the petty little spites that stem from his spindly fingertips (they’re probably not spindly. They’re probably fat fingers slapping the keyboard but I need to paint him with some elegant features).
You see I hate all the bits about him. I hate what he looks like. I hate all the top half media shots of him in a shirt because I know with all my heart that he’s wearing jeans and loafers with it. Like someone who aspires to be a posterboy for the middle-aged Jeremy Clarkson look. Or one of the “cool” geography teachers you might have come across if you went to school in the early 90s. I hate that dull face with the half dead eyes and the shock of irrelevant white hair. Looking for all the world like a bland goblin from lord of the rings. A nondescript moon-faced goblin that all the other goblins would “accidentally” forget to invite to their goblin parties for fear of being caught in the corner in then kitchen listening to this goblin prattle on about how the Uruk Hai were coming to middle earth and taking all their jobs. To me Rod Liddle has a face of ubiquity tinged with the Stevel Buscemi curse of being “funny looking” It’s a type of face I see everywhere and nowhere. At one point I even thought the man was stalking me.
Flash back 6 years BANG! There I am hanging out near London Bridge. Minding my own business. Might go to Borough Market and grab a falafel or whatever it is I was eating back then (to be honest I’ve already forgotten what I ate for tea last night). Walk past a cashpoint and who’s that staring back at me looking for all the world like some sort of innocuous bland goblin that no-one invited out. I swear it was Rod Liddle. At the time my only thought was whether it counted as a celeb spot. Like that time I saw Jarvis Cocker pushing his bike round Piccadilly. I decided it wasn’t. Even I barely knew who Rod Liddle was.
Flash forward a year or two from there. Rod Liddle’s been really grating me. I noticed he’d been writing about fotball. Sitting there like some smug self-appointed guru on all things football using his support of Millwall as justification. In the way that some fans of lower league teams claim to be better supporters than anyone else because they’re “grass roots” fans.Even though half of them are still as armchair lazy as your average glory hunter. Rod’s been worse than most though. Sitting there glibly demeaning a slew of fans, clubs and players and throwing in a liberal sprinkling of Millwall comments in the hope it will disguise the fact that he’s actually a complete fucking idiot when it comes to football. Or anything for that matter. Anyway. There I am one night at a concert with some friends. And then. Who is that standing at the back with the long grey horseface? God he looks bored. The gig isn’t bad but he’s bringing me down. He looks at me. SHIT! I swear to god that’s Rod fucking Liddle. At a concert. Staring at me like a hangdog. Stealing a bit of my soul because he needs it for himself.
That’s that. If I hear the words “Rod Liddle” again I swear I’m going to throw up a litre of black sludge and train it to seek home down and kill him. Problem is that he’s all over the papers. Suddenly he’s reviewing restaurants, holding court over his nothing views on football, writing opinion columns for the tabloids. Getting books published, appearing on the telly. I cannot avoid those cold, dark eyes glaring sullenly at me from the pages. I’m in a restaurant eating a meal. It’s my wedding anniversary. One of my favourite restaurants. THERE’S ROD LIDDLE EATING AT THE TABLE NEXT TO ME. No double-take this time. It’s unmistakably him. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a month and is chewing his meal expressionlessly. The only time he seems to emote is with a wan smile when the celebrity chef owner drops by his table to press the flesh in the hope of a good review. Suddenly my brevette tastes like cardboard. This is getting beyond a coincidence.
That was the last I saw or heard of Rod Liddle. I hope he’s got what he wanted from me. I don’t want to have dreams like aphex twin videos where hoards of children with Rod Liddle’s face surround me punching and kicking taking my wallet, clothes, internal organs. I almost succedded in forgetting he existed.
Until today. When I saw he’d put his foot in his mouth again with his comments about disabled people as covered here in political scrapbook. I mean. Jesus what an idiot. Joking about pretending to have M.E. Talking about how there’s a lot of money to be made from being disabled and how fashionable it’s become. The man is as much troll as goblin spouting out as many offensive platitudes as he can in the vague hope he’ll get noticed. He’s like one of those drunken tramps you see screeching filth in the street. Getting louder and more abusive. Not because he really thinks what is coming out of his mouth, but because he wants someone. Anyone. To notice him!
Did you read his Burns day comments yesterday? Awful. On a day celebrating Scottish tradition he decides to. Attack the Scotts. Lets not forget that 2 years before “The Wright Stuff” made its massive “Foxy Knoxy – Would ya?” blunder Liddle was their first by asking the same about Harriet Harman
There’s an interesting insight into Rod Liddle here in the Spectator where he describes is views.
Y’see he thinks of himself as being a left-wing member of the labour party “ I am pretty much of the left… I sign up to most of the stuff which used to be considered left – decent minimum wage, redistributive tax policy, social ownership of those things which as a society we need but which the market struggles to provide” Well Rod. That makes you a bit of a Socialist!
But he also has views on immigration too. “My worries about immigration, meanwhile, are twofold; that as a country we have become too crowded, and that the free movement of labour has made it harder for indigenous working class people … My dislike of multiculturalism stems not simply from the belief that competing cultures undermine a sense of national identity … but that some of the cultures we have encouraged, or made allowances for, are profoundly illiberal” Hmmm interesting Rod. You see that sentiment makes you a bit of a Nationalist.
What can I say – in Rod’s own words he appears to be willing to preach nationalist socialist views. Probably no surprise then, that, not content with picking on disabled people, he also enjoys cracking jokes about Auschwitz to his Millwall chums “It’s fucking outrageous that you can’t smoke in Auschwitz. I had to sneak round the back of the gas chambers for a crafty snout. Also, I wasn’t convinced by the newish Auschwitz Burger Bar and Grill.” or making racist rants ‘There’s thousands of organisations catering exclusively to black and asian minorities. fuck ’em, close them down. Why do blacks need a forum of their own?”(warning daily mail link).
Personally I just hope he doesn’t start stalking me again.