Word up, homers, Tony C's in da house you dig? Like Slim Shady, I'm back - and the kids love my slamming tunes. Seven weeks at No.1 with 'Amarillo', 7 days at No.26 with 'Avenues and Alleyways'. Mighty fine. I'm trippin' on sunshine baby, and Coldplay better stay outta my way.
Everyone assumes I split to the Costa Del Flop to play golf for 30 years when the hits stopped comin'. Sup wid dat? I was actually shaking up the early club scene out there and in Ibiza. Chicken in a basket at Pacha? My vibe. Two for one on Babycham between 6pm and 7pm at Space? Yup, me too.
It all went bad when they started playing that late night music, but back in the days when those joints were still bistros, it was sooo cool. Just me behind the bar, Jose and Juanita throwin' shapes with some edgy flamenco jiving and the all-you-could-eat paella buffet. Massive!
The UK club scene is where the action's at now: Gleneagles, Wentworth, Royal St. Andrews. 18 holes with Bruce Forsyth in the morning then back to the clubhouse for sweet sherry shots before spinning some chilled Celine Dion trance cuts as the hot peachy sunset dances over the bunkers and the glittering starlight sparkles like blingin' fireflies in the water hazard. Far out, man. Unless the rain starts a droppin'. Then we all stay in and watch Countdown.
Last Saturday was waaay cool! Took the decks and some lasers down to Bridlington for the monthly 'Cocoa' night at the hospital. We played a slamming set to a crowd of almost 30. They waved their arms in the air and screamed until some mix-doctors in white coats came in and switched off our strobe lights. That sure did put the mellow on them, man. Something about 'Epilepsy', they said. It's not a track we'd heard of, so my nephew Justin dropped some Bossa Nova beats and Casio organ flavas over 'Amarillo' instead. Went down a storm. We was hot, hot hot! Calling the bingo numbers afterwards killed da vibe a bit, but they refused to give us our £20 and fish suppers if we didn't get down and jiggy with the programme.
Next time we're planning on mashing up some Burt Bacharach and Pink Floyd to really push back the psychedelic boundaries. Even cutting-edge acts like the Chemical Brothers or Crazy Frog won't dare cross that line.
Talkin' techno, we're working on a buzzin' download system for our tonychristie.com interweb zone. We'll probably call iTones. The R&B team in California have been fixing up the computer side of it for some time now, but we've hit a snag sending 7" vinyl down the phone lines to the kidz' London Eye Pods. I keep hearing that we need a 'bored band' connection to make it kick ass, but Westlife don't return my calls no more.
The James Bond producers rang this morning. They want me to sing the next Bond Theme - 'Casino Royale'. Shirley Bassey's laying down some fat Gangsta Rap vocals with my man Kanye for his next cut - 'Goldfrapp Finger' - so the gig's mine if I want it. I said I'm hip wid dat only if they make me the main man with a blinging tux and fast ride. Problem is my role on Emmerdale next week might price me out of the scene, but hey, I can do small stuff like Mr James B and do the cool soaps too. I got range, baby!
My man Dennis Waterman once gave me some smokin' advice: "Star in the movie. Write da theme toon, sing da theme toon." He's an actor that's always stayed at the top of his game. He's developing his own avante garde trippin' gig later in the year - It's called 'Puss in Boots' or some whacked out crazy stuff like that.
People ask me, "Sup wid you and Peter 'Diddy' Kay these days?" and I say "What's all that bad, bad, singing he did on Live 8?" I ain't cool wid da Man on that. Stick to The Office and leave the tunes to me. You made an ass outta my toon in front of a billion people. I would have too, if Sir Bob had asked me, but I was washing my bow ties and polyester slacks at the laundromat.
Gotta go. Mixing up some fat beats with my wife Sue for a new Cream Tea compilation tonight, then co-hosting Top of the Pops with Tom Jones tomorrow. Keep young and beautiful like me - us kidz rule!
