True Rock Stories That Are Absolutely True: The True Story of Oasis Vs. Blur

(What's the Story) Morning Glory
Oasis
(Epic, 1995)

Parklife
Blur
(Virgin, 1994)

It was 1995. Oasis, they had this guy named Liam. He was a machine. He trained every day for 16 hours. Jump-roped, bag-punched, everything. He had a big chip on his shoulder. But everyone loved him, because he was so handsome and wan. And he used to make up poems before his fights. One of 'em went:

Ding! Why, look! Here come ole Liam!
All the fine lookin' ladies just linin' up to see 'im!
The Manchester manhandler, so full-a class!
He's comin' to get Beatlesesque on your arse!

That's how British people say "ass."

In the very first round, I'll make you a clown
You'll be staggerin' back to your dinky small town!
I come with a left! I come with a right!
When you run into me, you'll be out for the night!
I'll aim for your gut! I'll go for the throat!
I'll sing pretty songs that my brother Noel wrote!
You'll soon hit the floor, and it'll be over
And you'll leave on the tail of my Pain Supernova!

I didn't say he was Dickinson, I just said the dude wrote poems.

Now, this other guy, from Blur, his name was Damon. They called him SuperKink. He wasn't as lean as Liam was – sometimes people said he was too slow in the ring, that his moves weren't that good. But man, I'll tell you, the kid could sure throw a punch. Once he got into a fight with Thurston "New Yorkie" Moore, from the Sonic Youth gym. Yeah, that was somethin'. Ole Damon just ran around the ring for a bit, and right when you thought he was gonna lose on points, wham! He hits Thurston Moore with a huge, devastating left hook! Of course, Moore couldn't retaliate because Sonic Youth didn't have any hooks.

So the fight started when one day, Liam and Damon found themselves inside an Indian curry restaurant, squabbling over the last piece of naan. Now Liam, he loved him some naan, and you can bet he wanted to get that last piece. But Damon ordered it right out from under him! And that made Liam a little disconcerted, to say the least.

"Hey!" Liam said. "I wanted that naan!"

"Well," Damon said, "I'm afraid they're all out."

"Listen! Why don't you just get some of that bhatoora over there and let me have the naan!"

"Piss off. Why don't you get the bhatoora?"

"I don't want the bhatoora, I want the naan!"

"Look, Liam, maybe this isn't the place for you this afternoon. Why don't you try that new exotic African restaurant across the street? I hear they've got some intriguing edible beetles that are driving the locals mad, simply mad."

"Edible insects? Sod off!"

"Whatsamatter? Afraid to eat a beetle?"

"Afraid? Nothin' scares me! The beetles don't scare me! I'm bigger than the beetles!"

"Ehhh, big talk."

"You pasty Essex non-entity!"

"That's the best insult you can throw at me? 'Pasty non-entity'?"

"Stop it, you… you highly arrogant biped?"

"There it is again. That's just awful."

"You undulating person of interest!"

"What does that even mean?"

"You… you being of a rascally nature! You are a… you're an air conditioner… you're… you're a piece of flimsy linen… you're a person that knows somebody named Beatrice! You're… you're exceptionally kind to your mother! You… you purchaser of baked goods, you… hold on, hold on, wait a minute. Where's Noel? Noel!"

Right at that moment Liam's brother Noel walked up and whispered something into Liam's ear. Liam thought for a minute, nodded his head, smiled, then finally turned his head to Damon as Noel took a seat by the condiments.

"Hey, Albarn," Liam said confidently, "fuck you."

"That's it, motherfucker!" Damon screamed. "That really hurt!"

"Let's settle this tiff in the ring, you abstraction of monk… err, I mean, arsehole!"

"Fine! Let's go to the Congo!"

So they went to the Congo, which was formerly known as Zaire, but changed its name because it didn't rhyme with anything. "Congo" rhymes with "bongo." Look it up. When Liam and Damon landed the press was all over them, so they decided to herd all the reporters into a conference room in the Congo Hilton (formerly the Zaire Sheraton) and field questions.

"Liam, what would you say your strongest trait is?" Liam thought for a minute, then leaned over to his brother Noel, who whispered conspiratorially into Liam's ear.

After thinking for another moment, Liam responded, "Independence of thought."

"Damon, same question?"

"Well…. I like to think I'm the custodian of a giant manor somewhere in the Moors, and my neighbors all have closely-cropped hedges, and my teenage daughter is pregnant. But it was planned."

"Liam, who will be your support staff during the fight?"

"That's easy. My support staff will be the pantheon of rock and roll, those who have blazed the trails for me to… continue to blaze trails. Plus I have some groupies. This one here's named Alice. Say hello, Alice."

"Hello."

"Shut up, Alice. Like I said, I ride the fourteen-headed hydra of the Rock God. I wouldn't be caught dead in an ascot, and neither will my entourage. We have – stop poking me, Noel – we have the blessings of Elvis, Madonna, Gene Pitney, Brian Jones, and exactly one-quarter of the Bay City Rollers. I believe there were – dammit, Noel, stop hitting me with that stick! Each member of my team will be outfitted in aviator sunglasses and an oxygen tank filled with – goddamn it, Noel! I've had enough! Sod off, you son of a bit – um, I mean, you cantankerous twat!" With that Liam shoved his crumpled fist into Noel's ear and the two scuffled on the floor behind the podium, beginning a row that eventually lasted four hours.

"And Damon, who will your support staff be during the fight?"

Damon glanced at the fracas. "Apparently, Noel Gallagher."

Finally the time came. They sold out one whole seating area of the Congo Coliseum (formerly the Zaire Chuck E. Cheese) in sixteen hours. The ringmaster began the fight.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Congo… I have one question for you… Are… you… ready… to… channel the spirit of a typical suburban British teenager??!!!!"

"No," the crowd replied, "we jolly well aren't."

"Fine, let's fight. Gentlemen, come to the center. All right… I wanna clean fight. No hitting below the belt. No using the phrase 'Second British Invasion.' No appearances on the Jools Holland show. And let's leave Mick Jagger and Ray Davies outta this. You're on your own now. Are you ready?"

Liam grabbed the mic. "I just wanna say to the fine people of Covington, Oasis stands in unison with you! Ride upon our plush, shag-carpeted conveyances! We soar with the spirits of hummingbirds! We swoop down upon your gullies and hilltops, taking all within our view underneath our glossy wings! There's some blow in the back if you get too tired! Gooooo, Oasis! Gimme an 'O'! Gimme an 'A'! And gimme your sis, she looks like she hasn't had a good time in years!"

Then Damon grabbed the mic. "Excuse me -- attention please -- there's a Fiat in the parking lot with its lights on… which means it's nothing at all like the inside of Liam Gallagher's head!"

The crowd ooooh'ed. That was a good one.

"All right, all right, back to your corners," said the ref. The scorekeepers got their cards ready. The trainers stood by with towels, buckets and back copies of the NME.

The bell sounded, and both Liam and Damon raced to the center of the ring, when all of a sudden the roof of the coliseum opened and a shaft of light spilled into the ring. A chorus of angels sang out, and a giant cherub-like figure with good skin descended upon the ring. With one kick of each foot, the angel knocked Liam and Damon to the floor. He landed upon the center of the ring and reduced himself to the size of a normal human. He didn't appear to have exerted any effort at all, as he shot a look at Liam, then at Damon, both men crumpled, fetally whining on the floor.

The angel grabbed the mic and spoke to the crowd:

My name's Nick Carter! I'm from Orlando!
The greatest resort town in all the land-o!
I have come to blow your Congolese minds
With supple rich harmonies and sculpted behinds!
We love girls! They love us! We freak on the floor!
Then they break up with us and we get rather sore!
We'll be taking the charts over here for awhile
So when we're on TV, please give us a smile!
Thanks for all of the great memories,
And by all means, come by and visit us please!
If you ever drop by down Florida way,
Here's a half-off coupon good at any Chick Fil-A!

The angel departed through the top of the roof, attended to by numerous seraphim and a couple of choreographers. Liam and Damon lay on the floor of the ring, dazed and chastened. They eyed each other warily at first, but the fact of their being vanquished by an outside force soon broke the chill.

"Damon, we must set aside our aesthetic differences and work together in the light of our defeat by a common rival. I now extend my hand of solidarity to you and the rest of Blur."

"Liam, I'm going to vacation in the islands, but while I am, I will consider and ponder our newly-formed alliance. I extend my hand to you, my brother. And to you too, Noel, brother of my brother. We're all brothers. White, pasty, sometimes experimental but always accessible brothers."

"Let's go rent Wings Of Desire and be pleasant to each other."

And with that, the great Oasis-Vs.-Blur fight was over almost as soon as it began. Liam went to the video shop and found that Wings Of Desire was out, so he rented Fitzcarraldo and kept it for six years. Damon formed a band called Gorillaz who, in honor of his new friend Liam, he made two-dimensional.

And we all lived happily ever after, except Zaire, who were all Pulp fans anyway.

THE END.