Enjoying your depression a bit too much?

Apparently some depressed person has written a stage play, with songs, about their depression now.

Is there a new variant on depression around these days? A sort of Depression 2.0? One where the sufferers can’t stop whittering on about their precious bloody disease like some sort of latter day martyr movement?

What happened to the old style of depression? The quiet one that didn’t make a fuss and didn’t presume that the world owed it a living. The one that just sat quietly in the corner. I miss that one – the genuine one. This new one is little more than tedious, boring, masturbatory attention-seeking and hardly seems depressed at all. 

There’s a difference between talking about something and (literally in this case) making a song and dance about it. Depression seems to have become the new black.

People who have suddenly realised how little control they have over their own lives (or as it used to be called, “growing up”) are labelling themselves as depressed these days. Any dopy hipster suffering from a morning beard dysfunction is calling himself depressed. Over-entitled people all over the country that get their work ethic from watching the X Factor or Eastenders are labeling themselves as depressed because they have to work for a living.

Basically, anyone with a missing backbone or brain deficiency is calling themselves depressed.

It has become the universal excuse for laziness, incompetence and ineptitude, and it’s time a stop was put to it.

“Star Trek: The Ultimate Experience”

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal Albert Hall, 1st November 2015

I freely acknowledge that I know nothing about music, but I am fussy enough to prefer what I am listening to, to be in time and in tune. Like John Barry’s compositions, most Star Trek themes rely very heavily on the brass section for their impact.

I have no idea how long the London Philharmonic orchestra rehearsed this event, but although the brass section were all playing the same tune, too many of them were playing in their own key, to their own tempo and I am bloody sure a few of them were playing it backwards.

Couple that with the saccharine-drenched sentimentality of the cod-philosophical video links between the pieces of music, the overall impression was of being in a very poorly assembled primary school Christmas concert (and I have sat through a LOT of them).

I cannot emphasise how disappointing the whole thing was, especially having hugely enjoyed the live Titanic showing at the Royal Albert Hall a few months back.

I am sure, though, that most of the audience were enjoying it, being Trekkies in the worst sense of the word – wearing uniforms that fitted ten years and five stone ago…

I can’t remember which of the Hannibal Lecter movies it was where he eats the clarinetist that constantly plays incorrectly. Having sat through the first half of this performance by the Brass Section From Hell, for the first time ever, I totally get where Lecter was coming from. I just wouldn’t waste the Chianti. I left at the intermission.

I cannot warn people off this farce strongly enough.