When I heard Demon Pigeon was undergoing a relaunch, I could scarcely believe my eyes! (I was on the internet, you see.) ‘Relaunching?!’ I scoffed, blowing the hairs of my luxuriant, glossy moustache horizontal. I wiped a rainbow from the dots of spittle on my computer screen before continuing: ‘How does one relaunch that which is already half-submerged with bilge?!’
The question seemed apt, dear reader. In over three years of rowing our leaky internet canoe through the shallowest of the shallows in music journalism’s reeking septic tank, we’d often wondered what the point was. If you’re going to be a laughing stock among heavy metal journalists, then the least you can do is make people laugh, we thought. But were we succeeding? ‘Does the world need us?’ we would wail to the heavens. ‘No, you fucking cretin,’ our common sense would reply. But then, we’re not doing it for the world. We’re doing it for you. You know who you are. You cutie ;D
What this ‘relaunch’ means for you: Several new articles, a bit of a shuffle about, a prettier, touchscreen-friendly front page, and a comments system that works. All good things, much overdue. What it has meant for us: Several months of arsing around with our sluggish CMS, procrastinating and slinging increasingly frustrated emails about like bitter, hurtful insults. Eventually the handsome and clever Mark Riley stepped in to sort us out, and here we are. Boom, as the kids say. Hope you like the results.
Anyway, barely afloat or not, since 2010, we’ve somehow stumbled through over 300 talent-wasting articles of overwritten guff about not very interesting or fashionable things, most of it related to heavy metal and associated pursuits. Some of it has been modestly popular, and most of it hasn’t. Most of it has fallen flat on its face, as you’d expect. There’s a pertinent quote about this from some film, I expect, but the nub of the matter is this: You’ve let us down.
It’s all very well us sitting here trumping out an article, stinking like a pre-rotted egg, every six weeks or so—but if you don’t then take that egg and break it gleefully and smear its rancid yolk into your eyes and mouth and nipples and urethra, until you and everyone you encounter become riddled with our disease, then what have we accomplished?
In order to fuse our sub-atomic fanbase into a cohesive unit of magnified explosive viral force, we have determined that it is time for drastic measures. As such, not only are we applying a quick coat of slap to the site, we are also booting up our long-awaited Carrier Pigeon programme, an organisation devoted to taking forth the Demon Pigeon Way to the masses. And you will play your part!
Not purely because we wish to dress up in Girl Guide uniforms, our militia of Carriers will be patterned after the hardy and resourceful young women of Agnes Baden-Powell, only with medieval weaponry drawn from the armoury of proud Demon Pigeon sponsors Cold Steel Knives.
Upon enlisting, you will receive the following items:
Carrier Pigeons’ Official Bronze-Esque Membership Badge, pocket-size Carrier’s Handbook and ID Card in wallet especially-debossed with the Carrier Pigeon Crest.
Custom-tooled green leatherette bumbag for storing merch money, gig tix, expired condoms, beard combs, eighths, wraps, pills, skins, cigs, smartphones, award badges, autograph books, hip flasks, Argos pens, patches, lighters, stickers, knives, trinkets and tat.
Uniform comprising plain green skirt, maroon blouse, grey jumper, grey neckerchief, grey Glengarry bonnet, plus appropriate cockades, insignia and badges.
Your choice of weapon from the following:
Exclusive access to the Carrier Pigeons’ smartphone app, which allows you to covertly flirt with other Carriers, synch your #nowplaying song to every single social feed you’ve ever heard of—and some you haven’t—and orchestrate Twitter hate campaigns against guileless celebrities at the mere flick of a finger!
A large mirror-shelled egg, chill to the touch. Take good care of it until it hatches, for your own sake.
You, as one of our brave troop of footsoldiers, will daily don your uniform with pride, swearing anew the Carriers’ Promise: That, by whatever moral authority you may acknowledge, you vow to do your worst always. As one, you will march forth into the world, ready to root out the enemy and visit battle upon him; whereupon we will lose interest in the whole endeavour, neglect to issue any orders, then watch everyone die or drift away to the uniformed militias of other, better heavy metal writing outlets, in keeping with the Carrier Pigeon motto: ‘Ah Fuck It’.
Enlistment in the Carriers opens soon and will be available to you for a half-price subscription fee, from as little as £88.08 per week over the entire period of your service. Not only that, we will be opening a Kickstarter so you can give us bowel-lurching sums of money for doing literally nothing, with many exciting reward tiers and stretch goals to be announced! Click here for more info.
In the meantime, we’ll knock up some more barely-intelligible sub-Charlie Brooker rubbish for you to ignore shortly, I’m sure.
Let’s shake hands on it.