History is Always Written by the Victor

To celebrate the release of The Beatles Rock Band Harmonix and MTV games have paid me to do another one of my critically acclaimed unauthorised biographies, but instead of talking about Mike Tyson I have to talk about another subject; which this time is The Beatles.
They paid me by leaving some chips in a bin on a day I was well hungry. Leaving them chips in a bin on a day I was well hungry was also how they commissioned me.
Here is my unauthorised biography of The Beatles that I've worked really hard on:


*Insert Title here*

I am a proper biographer that does research, but like most music lovers I have never even heard of The Beatles so I did a research by listening to loads (one) of its songs with the Internet. It was called Free is a Bird and is basically a rip off of that Nelly Furtado one about being like a bird, but that Nelly Furtardo one is less shit because it doesn't sound like a tarted up demo tape that some money-hungry corpse fucker found down the back of the fridge when they were looking for money because they were well hungry for more money that day. Even though I don't like The Beatles now I have heard of one of its songs I won't let that influence this unauthorised biography, because I am a proper biographer.


Shit band The Beatles was born in Liverpool in 1960, which was the start of those swinging sixties. Those swinging sixties were the best and most revolutionary time ever, it must be true because smug old cunts that can't even remember being there or something keep going on about it; so it must be.
The Beatles was one of the most important things from those swinging sixties because it had the nicest haircut and the fanciest clothes. Nice haircuts and fancy clothes are the most important aspects of any social and cultural phenomenon and any other culture that tries to say they aren't are just jealous and backwards and deserved to be bombed by planes.

The Beatles also did music too, but as I've already established, all its songs were more rubbish than Nelly Futardo. So I'm not really even gonna talk about them, except the ones Mongo Starrkey or whatever he was called sung on when he wasn't too busy being pissed out of his head and talking about fictional trains.

After a short stint playing Skiffle alongside Paul Gadd in Hamburg The Beatles teamed up with legendary manager and closet gay Les Patterson. Les Patterson negotiated a record contract, then had the idea for Beatlemania and advised the band they should fuck off to America because there are way more overly sentimental, nostalgic idiots over there that won't ever shut up about it like it's still even slightly relevant in this modern day and age where everyone has a portable phone and a usb socket up their bumhole.

So The Beatles did.
The Beatles played some rubbish songs for David Letterman at the Ed Sullivan Theatre and this went pretty well for The Beatles, especially because of The Beatles nice haircut and fancy clothes; but The Beatles biggest triumph was yet to come...

At Shea Stadium in front of a crowd of screaming, low-expectations spastics The Beatles kicked the shit of World Heavyweight Champion, serial adulterer, too-fucking-thick-to-be-drafted-into the-Army Black-Supremacist Muhammad Ali.

How could America not take this new great white hope to its heart?

The Beatles was now the hugest and best band ever (apart from the songs - which are shit), but terrible times loomed on the horizon.

The Beatles caused outrage in conservative America by saying that The Beatles "are more popular than Baseball now. A cunt's sport for cunts. Fuck me, it's worse than Cricket and Tennis and that one old Scottish bags play with a broom on ice combined." Conservative America reacted angrily and burnt all of the Beatles records.
Although, thinking about it, the joke is probably on conservative America, because they were essentially burning their own property which is probably worth a couple of bucks these days on the collectors market.

The record burning made a terrible mess, but in a show of rare solidarity some old Scottish bags flew over and swept the ash onto some ice.

The Beatles also lost the one steady hand that could guide them through this storm of controversy, as The Beatles manager, Les Patterson had tragically died from taking too much medicine.
Speculation and conspiracy theory surround the details of Patterson's death to this day, some say that Patterson was actually murdered and point to a single sequined glove and a mummified cancer-child's anus that were found at the scene as evidence of foul play.

The Beatles decided to spend some time fannying about in India while they though of a new sound to make some new songs out of; all their old songs having been burnt by conservative America about a hundred and five words back.
The Beatles began practising Transcendental Meditation. Unbeknownst to The Beatles at the time, Transcendental Meditation is a form of mantra meditation designed to put cultural and spiritual tourist types into a deep trance leaving them susceptible to giving up their bank details, credit card number and Paypal login. It was in one such trance that The Beatles gave all the money it had and all the money it would ever make up to the mysterious and sinister guru Michael Jackson.
It was a shite state of a affairs that wouldn't be rectified until the ghost of Les Patterson travelled through time and delivered ironic justice to Michael Jackson by forcing him to die from taking too much medicine.
HA HA! Take that Jackson!

Penniless, The Beatles limped back to Britain somehow to begin its new life as a destitute. Fortune smiled on the plucky band one day when it was foraging for stale chips in the bins around the back of ITV. The Beatles saw a sign that said it could make big money, and not by making songs (which hadn't worked out for The Beatles, all the songs that band made were well worse than having one of your testicles go sour - or part of your fanny go sour, if you're a girl). All The Beatles had to do was win The International Ugly Wife Contest - Hosted by Michael Aspel!

The Beatles promptly married Linda Eastman, heiress to the amazing Eastman-Laird Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles Fortune and came fifth in the competition. This wasn't a massive problem as The Beatles new ugly-wife would be good for a few quid once her grandad croaked.

To make ends meet until this happened The Beatles took to busking on top of shops. Busking on top of shops was a good plan because they were too high up for the rozzers to move them on and because "top of shops" sounds a little bit like Top of the Pops, which The Beatles were probably on once doing some songs, or messing about being high-spirited and cheeky or something. It was a bad plan because The Beatles guitar cases were too high up for people to chuck a quid in. British people had and still do have incredibly weak throwing arms because their diets are crap and bland from all the rationing that happened once when there was a war. And they can't do any sports. Apart from sailing and that one old Scottish bags play and they aren't even proper sports. One's a mode of transport and the other's tidying up on some ice.

By the last day of busking The Beatles had made no money and looked proper scruffy because The Beatles couldn't afford to shave or buy clothes from anyone that wasn't also a homeless. In a cruel irony The Beatles played their last show on top of a Savile Row tailor's shop dressed in rancid tamp clothes.

The Beatles moved to New York with Japanese sex pot, "cor wot a scorcher! We would, wouldn't we lads?!" page three stunner Yoko Ono. Thing were going well for The Beatles living in more obscurity until The Beatles were gunned down by massive prick Sihran Sihran.

The Beatles were never heard of or discussed at length by an idiot again, until now; which makes you wonder why anyone would go to all the trouble of making a video game about The Beatles.

Making this thing about The Beatles has taught me that nostalgia is the best thing ever, especially nostalgia for events that you had no part in at all. Nostalgia allows you to be all fuzzy headed and irrational, you can idealize the past in any way you see fit. Use the past to fit any agenda. Nostalgia helps you ignore or feel even worse about the problems of the present while absolving you of any responsibility for dealing with them; you can just say "Well things were better back then, lets just make it like that." Nostalgia means you don't have to deal with the myriad potential pitfalls or triumphs of the future. Just keep looking back. The future's made of coal, the past is made of gold.
Keep looking back, especially if you don't understand what was really going on.