I think I was a juror at Michael Jackson’s trial. It might have been a dream, I’m not sure? But let me tell you about it.
Ok. Well firstly, the judge is a funny one right from the start. Looks like the world’s tallest midget. And his name’s so long I lose interest halfway through him saying it. Anyway, he’s speaking in this sleazy baritone, sounds like a foreskin being peeled back over a sticky bellend, and he’s listing off a pile of awful things Jackson’s done (I think that’s how court works, I’ve never been there myself). Well, he says he’s been bumming kids and stuff. The dirty beggar!
So, I look at the prosecutor and he’s about 15! Poor chap looks like he’s drunk a cup of spots and spilt most of them down his chin. But he’s an honest-looking sort of fellow and he’s got some pretty good evidence, let me tell you. Meanwhile, I’m sat with the jury, and they’re all wondering whether Jackson’s penis is black or white. And I’m thinking, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a fucking trumpet, know what I mean? And one of the guys is drinking from this tiny cup of coffee. Or maybe he’s just got huge hands? I’m not totally clear on this part, either.
Anyway, the poor bummed kid’s just sat there, listening to all this. Looks like he’s gonna wet his pants any moment. You should have seen his face when they showed the video of Jacko crying and having a wank, wearing nothing but a Christmas hat. Horrible, horrible, horrible. As I’ve said, a dirty beggar. But mostly, the day’s pretty boring really, so I’m reading this newspaper cos I already know what verdict I’m gonna give. And there’s some story in there about this baby with two heads, but they’re trying to make out it’s two babies sharing a body, right? Not likely! It’s a fucking two-headed baby, end of.
Well, the defendant comes into the room at last. And he doesn’t say anything, just freezes in the box in one of his trademark poses. He’s got his hat pushed down over his face and an arm outstretched, just like the cover of bloody Moonwalker! Anyways, the lawyer asks him a ton of hard questions, gets me thinking I wouldn’t fancy being The King of Pop right now! And what does Jacko do? Nothing! Doesn’t move a muscle. Then guess what? I shit you not, from somewhere Billie Jean starts playing! And what a tune it is! Sexy and exciting, but with a clear moral message. You just don’t hear music of that calibre these days. Right? So all the jury start nodding their heads in time, same with the lawyers. Even the judge is tapping his feet! And Jackson’s just stood there, motionless. For the whole 5 fucking minutes of the song! And when he leaves, he doesn’t even move. Just floats backwards out of the room like he’s on a trolley or something! Pure showbiz!
Well, course the next witness has got a lot to live up to! But it’s just some chubby girl with a flowery dress on, makes her look like a sofa. She’s an ex-Jackson employee I think – not got a good word to say about the man. Says she had nothing to do with any of it! Says he had her wrapped around his little finger! And I’m thinking “just cos you haven’t got any little fingers, you fat fucker”. Well, the lawyer asks her how she felt about Michael having all those kids in his room. And I don’t need to hear the answer. I know how she felt. Fat.
And suddenly the Judge is staring at me, not happy. Turns out it’s not a newspaper I’m reading, it’s some mature bloody porno mag. 60 Up it’s called! And the Judge asks me why I’m reading 60 Up! But I’m not thinking straight, you see, cos I’m still humming Billie Jean, so I say cos the shop didn’t stock 70 Up! Well, he’s not impressed with this, so he asks whether I think time grows on trees. But I haven’t got a fucking clue if it does, so I say possibly? Course this doesn’t go down well, either. He looks at the prosecutor and the prosecutor looks back and I don’t like it one bit. So I start imagining this lawyer re-labelling loads of dog food tins and sending them to famine appeals. I mean, what kind of man would do that? And the shit on his face makes it look like he’s sucked the wrong cock.
I tell you what, though. There’s nothing wrong with the defence lawyer. Now there’s a man you can trust! It’s that guy Hank from the 1980′s Dungeons & Dragons cartoon. You know the one? You’d recognise him, he also played Fred in Scooby Doo. I think he was Liono in Thundercats, too. Well, he winks at me (100% oblivious to any homosexual undertones) and I know it’s all gonna be ok.
So, about this time Jackson returns to the box, still in the same pose. And fuck me if Billie Jean doesn’t start up again! But, this time he starts dancing about, like he’s at Wembley or something. And he’s moonwalking around the courtroom, up and down in front of the jury, with me leaning over trying to touch him or rip out some hair or something. I can’t quite reach him though, short arms you see, but he spots me and glides over backwards, real close. And he whispers that all he ever wanted to do was to entertain people, and to one day ride an old-fashioned bicycle into a canal. Very convincing, let me tell me you. So, I start looking at the bummed kid and he’s pretty ugly, really. And we’re all thinking, if you were gonna put it in a kid, you wouldn’t choose that one. Right? So, I look back at the man, and he pulls on the single white glove. Classic! And then he does that thing where he spins round and grabs his bollocks. Well, that just seals the deal really, job done, and we all agree to let him off. Not guilty! Long live The King of Pop! Although, I understand he’s actually been dead for a few years now.
