Best Regards, Beauregard
A birthday shout-out to the only American Idol worth a tinkerer's dam, Beauregard "Bo" Bice, the baddest man in the whole dang town (since Jim Croce was burnt to a crispety crunch). Born a redneck in shitneck Alabammy (November 1, 1975), Bo spent his teen years in, of all places, bloody England! As the story goes, Bice’s stepdaddy got hisself a job on this side of the pond, movin' his old lady — Bo’s mama — and their brood of illegitimates here when Bo was 14. Bo attended London Central High School — where he properly kicked the shite outta any nancy boy who mocked his flowing mane or velvetine trousers — and lived in Gerrards Cross — where he popped more cherries than a pie factory. In his youth, this child of the ‘70’s was what we affectionately call "the shite." He was rarely seen without a geetar in one hand, a sweet, sassy lassy in the other and a “fattie” burnin' betwixt his lips. He formed his first band, Spinnin' Jenny, in England and from there he was off to the dirtbike races. Fast-forward to 2004 and Bo mopped the floor with the tired-arse competition in American Idol, with the exception of one Harry Underwood, who unfairly walked away with the top prize. (No word from Mr. Underwood since winning, we'll note!) Yours Truly Dooley® was honoured — that is, scheduled — to police Master Beauregard's triumphant return to England in a show at the Hammersmith Odeon in 2000-something. Unfortunately, due to a scheduling snafu, only 40 tickets were sold, causing the gig to be moved to a tavareen with a spotty public address system. Ever the showman, Bo put away a bottle of Mr. John-or-do-you-prefer-Jack Daniel® and two packs of mentholatum cigarettes whilst treating the crowd to some scorching Southern rock and English roll, closing the set with his trademark remake of “Whippin’ Pole,” by the Almond Joy® Brothers. Best regards — and Happy Birthday — Beauregard. Mutha trucka’s got game!
A birthday shout-out to the only American Idol worth a tinkerer's dam, Beauregard "Bo" Bice, the baddest man in the whole dang town (since Jim Croce was burnt to a crispety crunch). Born a redneck in shitneck Alabammy (November 1, 1975), Bo spent his teen years in, of all places, bloody England! As the story goes, Bice’s stepdaddy got hisself a job on this side of the pond, movin' his old lady — Bo’s mama — and their brood of illegitimates here when Bo was 14. Bo attended London Central High School — where he properly kicked the shite outta any nancy boy who mocked his flowing mane or velvetine trousers — and lived in Gerrards Cross — where he popped more cherries than a pie factory. In his youth, this child of the ‘70’s was what we affectionately call "the shite." He was rarely seen without a geetar in one hand, a sweet, sassy lassy in the other and a “fattie” burnin' betwixt his lips. He formed his first band, Spinnin' Jenny, in England and from there he was off to the dirtbike races. Fast-forward to 2004 and Bo mopped the floor with the tired-arse competition in American Idol, with the exception of one Harry Underwood, who unfairly walked away with the top prize. (No word from Mr. Underwood since winning, we'll note!) Yours Truly Dooley® was honoured — that is, scheduled — to police Master Beauregard's triumphant return to England in a show at the Hammersmith Odeon in 2000-something. Unfortunately, due to a scheduling snafu, only 40 tickets were sold, causing the gig to be moved to a tavareen with a spotty public address system. Ever the showman, Bo put away a bottle of Mr. John-or-do-you-prefer-Jack Daniel® and two packs of mentholatum cigarettes whilst treating the crowd to some scorching Southern rock and English roll, closing the set with his trademark remake of “Whippin’ Pole,” by the Almond Joy® Brothers. Best regards — and Happy Birthday — Beauregard. Mutha trucka’s got game!