Not as prissy as I thought it was going to be.
Whatever the negative value of his life’s work, however, he was certainly a phenomenon of sociological and social-psychological significance, at least in the Western world. And since it is wrong to speak ill of the dead, or only ill, let me try to mitigate my estimate a little.
Mr. Kilmister was born seventy years ago in Stoke-on-Trent: and, to be perfectly honest, whenever I have arrived in that dreadful place I have thought, though I have not said it out loud, “Oh, fuck!” You know at once when you arrive that nothing can save it; it induces immediately a kind of despairing nihilism even in the most optimistic of souls. Any means to leave Stoke-on-Trent might seem justified.