Chilis in Hot Water

The Red Hot Chili Peppers were unceremoniously ejected from the Top of the Pops studio last week after a row with the programme’s production team over the “presentation” of their Top 30 single, ‘Under the Bridge’.

The band cancelled one date on their current UK tour at Manchester Academy last Wednesday to record the show. However, the Chilis were reportedly unhappy about miming a live performance on the programme and had planned instead to “goof around” wearing Victorian dresses, behind singer Anthony Kiedis.

Band sources claim the Chilis met with resistance from the Top of the Pops team over the proposed drag costumes and tone of the performance. A spokesman told NME: “The production team felt the Chilis were taking the piss. The two parties just couldn’t co-operate with each other. And the Chilis were finally asked to leave.”

Meanwhile, the Manchester date is expected to be rescheduled shortly.

SEE YOU LATER, EJACULATOR

• Ooh-er! Horny agit funkers on a pilgrimage to Planet Poo Poo for rubber-necked wrist Jiving or what? STEVEN WELLS ‘collars’ the plonker-pulling posse that comprise THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS for plenty of ‘adult’ conversation and ‘mature’ recollection of that difficult ‘sexy’/’sexist’ debate. Keeping his snake firmly in his trousers:

STEVE DOUBLE

Think of one word to sum up the Red Hot Chili Peppers. COME ON! COME ON! Sex, right? Right.

The lads who started this whole funk rock fang and put socks on their cocks and then did that brilliantly toothsome groovesome sexdribbly oomph! album ‘Blood Sugar Sex Magik’ are posing fora photo and Flea, the monkey-like bassist, has his penis out in a Munich street. Tonight he will wobble on stage like a blancmange with rickets – as if all his joints have been replaced by rubber bands and boneless ferrets.

Flea is wearing a frog mask with shades and earrings and Anthony is wearing a monkey mask with shades and earrings. I’m just wearing shades. No eye-contact city USA.

“Well for a start,” says singer Anthony Kiedis, “the English are so anally retentive about sex, they get obsessed with any band that mention it. How many songs do we have on that record? Seventeen! How many mention sex? Two or three!”

“Yeah!” says Flea, who then belches loudly and frighteningly beneath his frog mask.

But in the video of the making of the record you’re talking about fist f—ing, and, face it, you lot get your kit off at any opportunity.

Antony: “He’s got his trousers open right here in the interview…”

Flea: “I was jacking off…”

Were you watching the hotel porn video?

Flea: “No I wasn’t, I was using my own imagination -about 15 minutes ago I came on my own stomach…”

So did I.

Flea, ”Eh? I don’t believe you!”

LADS! MATEY boy sex talk! The Chili Peppers are sick of being slagged as gropey-feely sexist drongoes. Me, I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt- I claimed that they redefined the penis “for what it is-six inches of delicate flesh rather than the horn-studded, flame-spurting bitch-splitting stainless steel battering ram of innado Metal mythology”. Another reviewer, A WOMAN!, was less sympathetic, claiming that the Peppers were SEXIST rather than sexy. The track ‘Suck My Kiss’, f’instance got right up her nose…

“To me,” claims Anthony, “’Suck My Kiss’ is more like a finger in the face of right wing society. Not ‘suck my dick’ but George Bush F- Off And Die’.”

And what about the song ‘Sir Psycho Sexy’ a fantasy taken straight from the pages of Sad Wanker Monthly where Anthony ends up shagging a formerly dominant female traffic cop FROM BEHIND…

I think it’s funnier than shit,” says Flea. who must have diabolically unfunny shit. “It makes me laugh, it’s funky and funny. If you saw a cartoon of that you’d be laughing. You get all these journalists and shit who get all high and mighty about liberal, uh, love everybody, y’know, feminist people and I just think you’re full of shit, if you love a woman as a whole then you love …”

Is that ‘whole” or “hole”?

“Uh, as in aitch, doubleyew, uh, what I’m saying is someone’s own insecurity about not feeling that may have done something correct in their lives attack people for not fulfilling their own feminist fantasies…”

I think It’s more disappointment that a band as  brilliant as the Peppers, who in many respects have such a refreshingly un-f—cked up attitude towards male sexuality, can come out with such crap as claiming that a female hack who hates them does so because she needs a good f—cking.

But I still want to give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they’re like Madonna, attracting flak because they are boldly trying to define a new erotic pop in the era where the sexual-liberation of the ‘70s runs smack into post-feminist prudery and AIDS terror.

“As long as we’re getting lumped in the sexist pig category,” says Anthony, ‘we had this T-shirt made that pictured a naked photo of Madonna with her finger in her pussy and she had a little dream cloud and it said – OOH! AAH! RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS! – and she was smokin’ a cigarette…!

THEY REALLY do themselves a disservice with this ignorant crap and they have no excuses. They’re not narrow-eyed inaddo misogynist scum, not really (Are you sure? -Fem Ed), they just keep on playing the pathetic “not sexy-sexist!”  game, but listen to Flea on the ‘BSSM’ tribute to Mike Tyson…

“OK, OK! That was before he got arrested for rape. OK? We don’t think rape is cool. OK!”

“If he raped that girl,” says Anthony, “then he’s a f—cked up asshole.”

And on their hero, basketball Magic Johnson…

Anthony: “It’s a tragedy when anybody gets HIV and Charles Byford (American Sports Writer) summed it up when he said he felt ashamed of himself for feeling sorrow for anyone else who got HIV. You grow up with Magic as this kinda perfect human…”

Flea: “I honestly love Magic Johnson, y’know, deeply…”

And the blatherings of the needledicked Mr Axl Rose:

“If you don’t have something against gay people,” says Flea, you don’t say faggot. If you don’t have something against black people you don’t say nigger.  Those are words that people hear just before they get kicked in the head, y’know…”

Confused? You will be…

A king rat is a phenomenon that occurs amongst large rodents during overcrowding, their tails know and then fuse.  One day this may well happen to the cocks of the Chili Peppers.

“We’ve got an amazing combination of dweebs, geeks and athletes in this band,” says Anthony.

Bukowski meets Magic Johnson…

“Meets the guy who couldn’t get a girlfriend…” says Flea.

You namecheck Public Enemy on the album, how come nobody ever pulls Chuck up for his homophobia?

“I walked into the backstage of a Public Enemy concert,” claims Anthony, “and I saw Chuck D french-kissing Flavor Flay behind the wardrobe case. . . ”

No you didn’t!

“I did, I did! I said – Hey, Chuck why is your tongue halfway down Flavor Flav’s throat?’ – he said – ‘Don’t bother me, man. I don’t get this very often…”

I’m intrigued by the band’s heavily stressed “maleness”.

Anthony: “Well, we are men.”

Yeah, OK, but so are Depeche Mode, you know what I’m talking about here. Not every band seems to spend most of their time talking about their cocks. One of you even got his cock out in the photo session.

Flea: “That was me!”

Anthony: “But he didn’t have his whole cock out like- ‘look at my cock, look at my cock’- he had his cock out for humorous reasons…”

Flea: “It was funny and the women laughed too, right? It was funny.”

They didn’t laugh once, did they? Once Anthony was prosecuted for ”sexual battery”- a charge he denies – for getting naked in a dressing room with a female fan who, claims Anthony, thought it was pretty amusing at the time.

LADS! Why is it, lads, that America, an allegedly brutally well-hung heterosexual buffalo shagging kinda nation, is obsessed with bottoms:  As in -“I kicked his ass”, “She’s a nice piece of ass” and “’m gonna ream you a noo asshole?”

“I kicked his ass means ‘I ducked him out’ – right?” points out Flea.

Yes, but you didn’t touch his bottom. did you?

“Yeah but it’s their ass, their ass, somebody’s thing, you sit on it, you carry it around, it’s your ass, somebody’s… ass! Your ass is on the line?  It’s your ass, it’s your being! It’s your middle, it’s your being, it’s your . . . ass!”

Anthony: ‘But it’s another thing to say a beautiful, intelligent creative woman possesses a beautiful ass . .. ”

Flea: “Or to say –‘bend over bitch I want to f-yer ass’?”

Oh dear, and we were doing so well. Meaning not the ass, presumably, but the vagina?

Flea: “No, I mean the ass. Bend over bitch! I wanna f-yer ass!”

Well, that’s seriously undermined the New Man direction of the conversation, hasn’t it?

Anthony: “The ass also contains great, um, y’know – there’s the whole bowel fascination as well…”

Oh dear.

Anthony: “The whole expectorating, y’know, business through the ass. George Clinton, who was one of the greatest lyricists of all time. Just wrote constantly about the ass and motions of the bowels.”

Did he?

Flea: ‘Yeah –‘The world is a tired, tall-seat toilet bowl/Our mouths mere logical assholes…’I mean David Byrne-Mr Liberal Feminist Guy- he said ‘The world moves on a woman’s hips/The world moves and it swivels and bops . ..”

I’m sure he did but, uh, how this relevant?

Flea: “Oh well, you know, because if we said that then it would be because the woman is held down by the world! The whole world is on her ass or something! SEXIST! But if we wore a suit like David Byrne and acted real arty about it, it would be just like a deep artistic innuendo. Y’know, if you’re in a suit wearing glasses eating brie cheese at an art opening, right or like the guy with no shirt on running around with slobber on his face like dribbling, y’know, screaming…”

SOME GREEK philosopher dude once wrote that he welcomed the death of his libido on reaching old age because it Iiberated him to think of higher things…

Flex “I couldn’t get it up when I was I8. I was high on mushrooms.”

Anthony. “The thing is a white haired 90-year-old man has been known to pop the bone. I don’t think we talk about sex half as much as you think… ”

Flea: “I HAVEN’T BEEN LAID FOR SO F -ING LONG I’M NOT EVEN SURE I’VE GOT A F–NG DICK!”

Anthony. “When was the last time you got laid?” Flea.

“Shit, I got like laid a couple of times before I left from this girl I that I met that I really liked because she had this awesome tattoo just like me. But before that I haven’t been laid since…”

I don’t believe that, how can you be in a rock band and not get laid?

Flea “I’m not the f-cking sex symbol around here. I’m the f-cking little weirdo, girls like Anthony, girls don’t give a f_ck about me.”

Flea starts banging the table and shouting. It should be noted that he has chosen today to give up smoking. And talking of drugs, Flea is a massive fan of Charles Bukowski.

“I met him once in a bar. I just read a book of his poetry and I talked to him about a poem I read that made me cry.  Yeah, this poem called ‘The Tough Motherf—er’  about his cat and his cat had three legs and one eye and it died and we talked about his cat and cats stuff and I started talking about basketball and he said –

‘Basketball! Basket-ball! Those black guys in stinking shoes running up and down and up and down and back and forth. it makes me sick! But at least you like cats…”

What about this irrational hatred of rave music you have, what’s wrong with people taking drugs and waving their arms to fast music?

“Why don’t they take drugs and wave their arms to good music? Why do they put on that shit and ruin everybody’s good time, shitty f—ing terrible music, it’s disgusting, I hate it! It’s just the most sickening, disgusting music!”

“I went to a rave and this guy comes up to me and he goes – ‘Peas and chips’- what?- ‘peas and chips, peas and chips’- what do you mean, dude, And he goes – ‘peas and chips, ecstasy and trips’ – and I figured it out, and I said ‘no I don’t want any drugs’ and he said – ‘Yeah? Get out of here then, we don’t want you here, get out of here!”

And he spoke exactly like Dick Van Dyke out of Mary Poppins, incredible!

Yeah, well, that’s what he sounded like to me… get the f-k out of here. This is meant to be the great English acid and everybody loves each other. Get the f—,. I don’t even like England, the food sucks, the people are grumpy, the weather’s lousy, they listen to too much f-ing House music. When was the last time you had a good f-ing band? The last good band to come out of England was Echo And The Bunnymen!”

And as he rants and he raves his strangely frog-like eyes are fixated on the Silk Cut that dangles from my thin but sexy lips. Calm down. Flea! Have a cigarette. Or a wank.