Culture Vulture: UK Culture News February Part 1
We don't want any fannies without forearm tatts driving buses.
More power Preston
Preston, the pint-sized superstar blonde-botherer, has announced he is working on a novel. In a world entirely indoctrinated against 'pretension' the Vulture supports the miniature minstrel's literary endeavours. The question is: is this the final nail in the coffin for his marriage?
Bus Law
A majority of Edinburgh bus drivers have signed a petition requesting stricter uniform regulations, to the extent that any of their number found not wearing short sleeves and showing aggressive tatts will be out of a job. A spokesman said: 'we don't want any fannies without forearm tatts driving buses. They might give the impression that bus drivers aren't the hardest fuckers around. Or that we can't take corners.' The sexual implications of this last remark were beyond the Vulture, but we included it for reasons no lesser than journalistic integrity.
The future
Meanwhile, a driverless bus was unveiled at the Science Museum in London last month. That's damn hilarious however you look at it. At the very least it's a major new incentive to get good at computer hacking – a whole new revival for the fine British tradition of the magical mystery tour. Next stop, Blackpool! (It is always meant to be Blackpool, isn't it? There's a bit of mystery when they pull down the blinds, and you think maybe they'll whisk you off to, ooh, Margate. But then it's Blackpool, as per.)
Rich pickings
Seeking shelter from the storm, Bob Dylan has spent more than £2 million on a Highland Mansion. Standing in the doorway of the house for the first time, the singer was heard to simply state: 'I want you'. Locals are expecting the sad eyed gent of the Highlands to pledge his time to the area after coming down the highway, although he'll have to adjust to buckets of rain, the usual weather forecast locally. Far from his Minnesota birthplace, it's unconfirmed whether Dylan is expected to suffer from the North Country blues or the high-terranean homesick blues (give it up for the Vulture), some, all, or most of the time. This could go on indefinitely. Shame it has to end. It's a restless farewell…