Monday, 29 December 2008

Christmas TV Viewing

So it's the post-Christmas, pre-new year gap, and I'm just glad to be finally tasting food again. After a Christmas Day that involved waking up and bursting into tears because I felt so ill, and then went on to involve NO turkey, NO chocolate orange, NO booze, and NO presents on Christmas day as I was too weak, I'm just glad to be able to sit up straight now. I must be the only fucking person in England who LOST weight over Christmas. BOO!
But anyway, who cares about my ailments? Only me and all those within germ-spitting distance. I still managed to squeeze in a healthy amount of Christmas TV in between crying, chain-sucking strepsils, and avoiding particularly offensive family members.
Just before the worst of the fever struck, my mum said 'Do you want to watch a film?' and I archly said 'I only like kitchen sink dramas.' in my best Morrissey voice. Sadly, she took me quite seriously and put on 60s black and white drama Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Actually, it was quite good, if you don't mind very little happening in a film, which I didn't. I like seeing how things used to look as well, and everyone looked very cool and smoked a lot. It had a bit of a weird ending though; like it ended in the middle.
On Christmas day itself, I opened my eyes for the Top of The Pops Christmas special; which was oddly enjoyable. The soaps were good but not great; I think Eastenders hit the mark the best with the Sean-baby saga. Tony sticking Jed in the box on Corrie was good fun; but not quite as dramatic, somehow.
I hated Deal or No Deal at Christmas, it's rubbish without the usual contensants when it's for some person who's 'deserving'. Zzzz. I slept through most of those.
I think it was Boxing Day when I watched ET on ITV2, which was dreamy; still just brilliant. Thank God CGI hadn't been invented to mess it up then. Pure perfection. Elliot is like a proto-type Conor Oberst. Drew Barrymore is fab. Harry Hill was good that day, too.
The rest of the schedule was pretty awful; we had to resort to playing games (not that much fun when you can't drink). We watched Cloverfield again (very good) and a zillion countdown shows; annoying people, best films, best songs, and so on. Lists and lists and lists.
Worst programme of the festive seasion was the utterly dire 8 out of 10 Cats- Best Bits. If those were the best bits, I shudder to think how chronically unfunny the rest of the fucking thing was. I thought comedians were meant to make you laugh? I pity the likes of the dazzling Charlie Brooker and always-great David Mitchell having to pretend to laugh at that one that looks like Billy Mitchell, and tha fat cunt off of Gavin and Stacey. I can't even bear to look at that pig-faced charisma-void, he makes my skin crawl. Utterly awful in every way, I strongly advise you to walk slowly away from that burning car crash, Jimmy Carr. Another serious of Your Face or Mine? would be seven billion times it's superior (seriously; that show rocked). Halfway through we switched over to a repeat of Ponderland and the relief of unbridled laughing at someone genuinely talented was a stark contrast to the back-slapping bullshit we had been suffering through. Oh yeah; and Christmas Ponderland was brilliant too; although Russell's new beard makes him look sinister. Still, thank God we still have him; because lord knows, we need him.
The only other thing of note we watched was the E4 special Why I Love Celebrity Big Brother. It was really fun to see all the previous years; the best of which had to be the heady mixture of Chantelle, Preston, Jodie Marsh, Pete Burns, Barrymore and George Galloway. Just magical. Jodie Marsh was robbed; she definitely had more to offer. How I loved the innocence of Chantelle's green eyeshadow! Sigh. So yes, I am VERY much looking forward to the new series on Friday. And still hating Jade for getting it cancelled this year. It gives me something to mouth off about anyway and I can't wait!

Monday, 22 December 2008

Film: The Wackness

'I just see the dopeness, you just see the wackness.' I don't remember ever talking like this in the 90s but hey, it's still a good line.
Someone either recommended this film to me, or I read somewhere that it was good, and I can't remember which. Either way, it's about a weed dealer and set in the 90s. I do associate weed dealing quite heavily with the 90s, but then I had a peculiar upbringing.
It's quite slow-paced; kind of like 8 Mile meets The Garden State; of which I liked both. The Eminem-style character who likes his hippity-hop is very easy on the eye. Ben Kingsley plays his psychiatrist, and he pays him in bags of weed. Even though I don't really like hip hop, the soundtrack was good, and used quite effectively I thought. I liked the mentions of Kurt Cobain and mixtapes and the lack of mobiles; that's how it was in the 90s, kids.
Is it an urban myth that a lot of dealers pose as ice-cream sellers? I'm sure I've heard that on many occasions but I've never offered anything more potent than a Nobbly-Bobbly from Mario's Ices.
I had this feeling that something bad was going to happen all the way through as it all seemed too floaty and easy. Plus those black guys with the guns looked a bit menacing at the beginning, and you know, drug dealers should get their comeuppance and all that rubbish.
Actually, it turned out to be about friendship/ coming of age and all that caboodle. Quite nice really.

Wednesday, 17 December 2008

Coldplay at the O2 Arena (also known as the Millennium Dome)

Have you ever been to a gig in an airport? Well roll right up to the O2 arena, almost as cold inside as it was outside!
Yes, last night I went to see Coldplay at the O2, or the Dome, as it actually is. I last went to the Dome for a rave up in about 2001 and I just remember trudging around in a tatty pink dress, wide-eyed and freezing my arse off, and dreading the tube journey home (actually, it was good fun). But this was something completely different. The Dome has turned into a shopping centre, a trendy wine bar, and a big fuck off arena, all mangled together.
I think we must have bought these Coldplay tickets sometime back in 1998, because since then, I split up with my ex, moved house, changed jobs, lost my cat to a killer parasite and er... stopped liking Coldplay.
But actually, I was wrong to be too negative. You may mock, but those middle-class marker-pen loving boys put on a pretty good show. The O2 arena itself is vile; a huge expanse, with virtually no good seats, and believe me, it's ALL seats. No standing! I'd have sobbed if I'd seen Morrissey there, but he'd probably chew his own arm off to sell out three nights there, veggie or not.
We had reasonably good spots in theory, but unless you are sitting in the front row, pretty much all the seats were shit. Nice and comfy though; mmm! You appreciate this sort of thing as you age. I'd recommend binoculars if you're going to see The Killers there.
Sitting at a gig is morally wrong anyway, and the crowd were as you'd expect; bland scunt-wearing boyfriends, drab girls and older couples out past their bedtimes. The girl sitting next to me was eating a salad. The man in front of my seat, in a jaunty polo-neck, behaved the entire show as if he was getting sent to prison tomorrow and was determined to have the night of his life, no matter what. His dancing would have made a gay man weep.
But at least people did stand and dance I suppose, even if we were all forced into our designated space. Oh, a word on the support bands; the first seemed absolutely drowned by the venue, but the singer had a nice enough voice (do you expect me to look this shit up?). More peculiarly were the second support band, an ambient/techno outfit with acid-trip animations. They seemed entirely out of place; I almost felt like it was 2001 again; except they weren't very good. Hopefully they upset some of the old folk though.
And then. Everyone's favourite gawky, fuzzy-haired, movie-star fucker. I can't remember what they opened with but the whole show was like one big greatest hits set, which was good, really. Personally I don't want to sit through Spies, or any of that dreary shit. The hits just kept coming; there was only one song I didn't particularly like, and before the gig I could only name about three songs I DID like, so that says something, surely. The lights were spectacular; loads of lasers, freakish bally things with Chris Martin's distorted mug on, and during Lovers in Japan, so many paper butterflies fell from the sky, hat I suspect Coldplay single-handedly destroyed a decent-sized rainforest. Save the trees! My dear friend JOTV would have liked the balloons, but I suspect he's too cool for Coldplay.
I'd never seen Coldplay live before; and I have to say, they are definitely worth a look. Chris Martin threw himself around the stage like a slimy toy you'd chuck at a wall; like a mad-man being electrocuted by his pajamas. He can't dance, but he puts the effort in, and that's the main thing. I liked the little electro-medley they did when they all stood together and did God Put a Smile on my Face and something else (?!). I was happy to hear The Scientist played live, but the bestest thing was The Hardest Part, which is my top ten songs of all time. It's just heartbreakingly good (I got dumped to it once and it left it's grubby mark on me). They did a nice pianoey version. The new album was hammered, but not battered, and it was very singalongy.
Coldplay also came into the crowd at one point and sang Jingle Bells with (fucking) Simon Pegg on harmonica. It was good cos they were pretty near us. Simon Pegg is pretty insufferable, but hey, at least it wasn't Jay-Z.
And yeah, that was about it. All the hits, no sweat, and we even got a seat on the tube. Gigs shouldn't be this easy. Roll on the Morrissey scrum.

Tuesday, 9 December 2008

Eastenders: The Paedophile Edition

Eastenders was excellent tonight. I cried the whole way through it so it must have done the trick. Wow they really piled on the rain machine, didn't they? And Tony actually did some acting rather than just looking like some shifty motherfucker. I thought the whole thing was brilliantly acted; Bianca and Whitney in particular were really good. And I normally can't stand Bianca.
The whole episode was really well written (I notice from the credits they got an old school writer in; I did my dissertation on Eastenders at university so that tells you what type of course I did) They always get an old school writer in when it's a biggie episode.
The whole episode was full of horror and it was very dramatic, in the right way. I'm glad they didn't shirk from it; and I thought Bianca's reaction was interesting; I was SHOCKED when Whitney said she was 12 when it started and Bianca still carried on having a go at her. But the penny dropped more gradually; and it was actually more effective as she put the pieces together. It was good when she took Tiffany off Tony's lap, and him saying she was too young, because that's how it must be to be a child abuser; you must have to have some supremely twisted sense of morality to say 'no, that child is too young, but 12 is ok.' We lump them together, but child abusers ARE humans; and that's what's frightening.
I'm so glad they didn't drag it out more; I couldn't have standed (!) it any longer. NB. That creative writing degree was wasted on me *pays back the loan forever*.
I was wondering the whole way through when someone was going to say the P word, and I'm glad they did, although it was clearly a heavy handed 'message for the kids'. Yet it was good that it was acknowledged; this was not an affair, it was rape. Whitney was not to blame.
I was very happy when it transpired Bianca had called the old bill at the end. The whole thing was like the worst drama in my house ever growing up times twelve. And you gotta love Eastenders for that shit.
PS: I double dare you to spell paedophilia right first time.

Sunday, 7 December 2008

Entertainments: Louis, Louis and Choke

I'm gonna do a mash up because I've got a little to say on a few things, and you know, I've missed you a bit.
I have to say I've not been enjoying the Law and Disorder series of Louis Theroux as much as I thought I would. Am I shallow to want him to go interview Heather Mills or Posh instead? I do like it when he covers serious subjects, but I prefer it when he's in silly mode. It seems like it could be any film maker doing these documentaries; Louis' personality is getting diluted. Maybe I just want a bit of light relief.
Talking of which, my enjoyment of the X Factor semi-final was marred somewhat by an accidental text telling me who had gone out before I got the chance to see it. The X Factor without suspense is justt a bunch of dickheads singing rubbish cover versions. Having said that, it wasn't a bad night. Alexandra has come on miles, and should probably win it. JLS have also improved. But the real talking point was the 'friendship' between Eeeeeeoooghhhhannn and Diana. How many times did they repeat the word 'friendship' on the Xtra Factor? It was blatantly obvious they are in love. It was like watching Hollyoaks on anti-depressants when Diana got the boot. It was half traumatic/ half hilarious watching him sobbing and mewling and running on stage, ruining her final song. Ah, it was kind of sweet though. Or would be if she didn't look ten years older than him, yet still looked her age, which is 17. I personally thought OWEN's rendition of that Busted song off Singstar was absolutely dreadful, and when he declared that it was the sort of rocky (?!) style he felt comfortable with, I really did have to resist the urge to open a vein. As for Diana doing Dido, bad move. She should have done Kate Nash or something, the tweenies voting would have lapped that up. It made me laugh when Cheryl Cole said Diana's fans were 'probably too cool to vote' therefore declaring the entire X Factor audience 'uncool'. Nice.
I'm sure you're keen to know, the reason I missed the X Factor was because I was at the cinema watching Choke. Now, I listened to the audio book of this Chuck Palahniuk book earlier this year. I enjoyed it, but by Chuck's standards, I thought the plot was holey; I never understood why the people who saved Victor's life sent him money in the first place. I also accidentally put my IPod on shuffle at one point and heard the twist at the end... a twist that was inexplicably, completely left out in the film. Yet they kept in the utterly ridiculous son of god schtick which made very little sense. Chuck gets away with some ridiculous plot devices/ twists, because of his convincing writing style. When his style is removed from the equation, and his ideas put into the wrong hands, it's just left looking a bit silly.
So I KNEW the plot and I still found the film inexplicable in parts. The main character, played by Sam Rockwell, was irritating and reminded me of Tom Cruise (urgh). There wasn't enough of the whole choking thing (it is the title after all). It was meant to be a comedy, which threw me, as the book wasn't, and I don't remember laughing. There probably wasn't enough sex in it, for a film about a sex addict. Why would Cherry Daiquiri go out with Denny when he was so bloody ugly? And as for the whole rock storyline; if you're going to take out the end scene of the book (i.e. probably one of the most interesting and dramatic parts, and one which was infinitely better than what the scriptwriter did here, which was go for the easy option), why even keep the stupid rocks in? I thought the rocks were dumb anyway, but at least they had a dramtic purpose in the novel.
There was also excessive use of flashbacks; always bad in films, as 12 million bad Stephen King adaptations can testify to. Anjelica Houston was OK, but that's about as much as I could say.
If you liked Fight Club, run a mile from this. Chuck is one of my favourite writers, but I'd love to know what he makes of this. If someone murdered my novel in this way, I'd go boot them in the face.

Monday, 1 December 2008

Film: A Complete History of My Sexual Failures

I watched this film today, which was a documentary following a slacker-type guy called Chris (who had an echo of Kurt Cobain about him), who had been dumped by every girlfriend he'd had and could no longer get it up.
The film came to rather a big snag early on when none of his ex girlfriends wanted to be on film. He eventually persuaded a couple of them who he went out with quite young. Both of them were quite smug and looked years older than him, even if they did have big, bland houses. I think he had a lucky escape with those ones. Unfortunately later on he met up with some of his exes who he had clearly done serious wrong by, and they were interesting, attractive and independent.
I thought the film was slow and relentlessly depressing for some time. Chris was a pretty unlikeable character, in my opinion, I didn't feel he had much charm, he just stumbled from one crisis to the next. I don't mind a scruffy bloke, but having to get his mum in to clean pubes from round his toilet was a step too far. Not appealing.
He didn't seem to have a lot of answers as to WHY he was such a dick. Why didn't he reply to Olivia's love letters? Why did he propose to one girlfriend and then never set a date for the wedding? That particular girlfriend still lived in the flat they'd shared and it was probably the most interesting part of the film as they cried together. How silly of him to declare himself still in love with her, when she was pregnant. It was textbook teenager behaviour, and just emphasised how emotionally immature he was.
The film lost it in the middle; first with his trip to the dungeon (how would getting his arse smacked and his dick twisted help him get a hard on?) and then when he decided to deal with his erectile dysfunction by doing a whole packet of Viagra. I thought it was pretty insane. Can't you have a heart attack like that? When he ran out of the streets begging people to fuck him I thought that was tantamount to sexual assault; I would have punched him in the face had he approached me like that. He lost all of my sympathy at that point.
Yet incredibly, he met his next girlfriend this way! And she was really good-looking and had a good job as a journalist. I was glad the film cheered up a bit, but it seemed a little too neat.
All in all Chris reminded me of the kind of person you know who just won't grow up, and who blames other people for all their problems. I think the film was meant to be funny, but I didn't laugh very much. It just made me realise how stupid men can be in relationships. And how much women have to put up with. (insert sexism complaint here!)

Wednesday, 26 November 2008

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here- Kilroy's Out

How my heard bled when Carly Zucker lamented that her house was too big to clean. Just get a cleaner. Quite simple really. And yes, there's no point beating yourself up for buying a handbag, it's all you're good for.
I've decided I really like Esther Rantzen (not words I envisaged myself writing). She has a nice gentle manner about her and I think she's quite brave. Her and George are the best.
I was surprised that old plastic face dude (david?) had such good general knowledge. Him and Timmy Mallet are creepy uncles from hell. Their relationship is build on two sad, seedy men bonded together by hate. Nice.
I can't believe Mickey is farting in front of people he's known for a week (AND on the telly). I've never farted in front of flatmates I've lived with for years. I would not be happy stuck in there with him; bad manners. He'd be a right slob of a boyfriend, I guarantee it.
Brian Paddick's hero-worshipping of the least interesting one from Blue (and that's pretty tough) is borderline worrying. His comment about black people was a little... patronising?
Where was Kilroy lately? He's got a really bad edit and then was first out. I find it hard to believe more people called to save Nicola Mcclean or Carly Zucker. Fair enough if it was a vote to evict. Boo. He would have provided more entertainment for sure.
In other news, The Killers album has, as predicted, grown on me. It is still pretty ridiculous, but it's a bit of fun to listen to as you go about your daily activities.

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe: Advertising

Dear God, how I'd love to watch TV round Charlie Brooker's house, spitting bile at anyone and everyone. We could be best friends, I know it! Take my calls, Charlie! Please!
Ahem. I liked last weeks show about Britainia High, and this weeks show about advertising. I liked seeing the ads for cigs and the 60s ads. I liked him refering to someone as a 'twatamaboob' and dissing Carol Vorderman for hawking loans to the Jeremy Kyle generation.
Easily the best thing on TV by a mile, and also my favourite columnist (although I'm crazy for American sex advice columnist Dan Savage right now too- his advice is amazing, surely he can't be in the paper over there, it's too filthy!)
But I digress. I even had a DREAM about Charlie Brooker the other night and he was giving me the brush off. Sob. I LOVE the fact he has Aisleyne in his show too, it's such a piss-take. I'm sure it pisses people off and that's why it's good. Know yourself!
People say CB is angry, and he is, but he's also just... right. About everything. And just funny, and a great writer. But he still looks like Max Branning.
PS. I know you're meant to but I fucking hate the poetry bit.

Monday, 24 November 2008

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here Megamix

I'm still watching, but it's like a dirty addiction you don't want, and don't like, a meth habit for the mind. The main interesting thing is Timmy Mallet, who is absolutely baffling as a person. Even after winning the trial yesterday, he still managed to piss everyone off. He is fake, fake, fake and he would drive me nuts in there, because he's not letting us see him, with all his silly 80s nonsense; 'oo-er missus' and itsy-bitsy-ohgodIcan'twritethewholethingout. He's like a faded movie star clinging to his most famous role, except his most famous role was being usurped by a pink squidgy mallet. Timmy, you are destroying the 80s dream by being so unpleasant. Boo.
Now David is also peculiar person. His manipulating of Timmy to take him to the bridge (!) with his 'all friends together' shtick was effect yet very creepy. He is a desperate, immature man.
Nicola McClean is an awful person. Shallow, proud to be stupid, monotone voice. It's like Jordan all over again, but Jordan with less charisma (tricky, I know). Also, her boobs are absolutely grotesque and not anything any woman should aspire too. Boobs in place of a personality. Tragic. It really bugs me how people with implants are always like 'feel my boobs' too. Er... no thanks, I've got my own. Her performance tonight consisted of; 'It's not rocket science/ if you've got a problem, just say it' and head bobbing like Saskia of Big Brother past on steroids.
Mickey almost won me over when he said 'I'm not shouting, I'm just talking loudly.' but not quite.
Dani going to bed because someone else cooked was absolutely pathetic. Why do people get so territorial about that shit? Take turns, idiots! I can't stand endless conversations about foods on reality shows. It really is dull as fuck.
PS: talking of food, what the fuck are those king prawn SPOONS on the Iceland advert? I think the word 'yuck' needs to be reinvented for this occasion. Even Katona would turn her nose up.

Sunday, 23 November 2008

Special Needs Pets

Well I've seen it all now. A rabbit in a wheelchair.
I'm a bit late with this show, but it was recommended by a friend. My cat died the week before last and I wrote a poem about it (I know, but it wasn't as bad as it sounds) which had the line in 'I've never seen a cat in a wheelchair'. And my friend at writing group said, 'I have, they are on channel 4 tonight.'
Well, where else WOULD they be? And in the brilliantly titled 'Special Needs Pets'.
This boneheaded woman with the rabbit in a wheelchair (and a nappy) said 'we don't put disabled people down, so why do we put disabled pets down?' Because it's cruel, you dopey cow! Rabbits shouldn't wear nappies, or be on wheels. It's not fun for people who have to, but at least they have a choice (to an extent). So why inflict it on your rabbit (or yourself, come to think of it).
Also on the show, a parrot on Prozac. Is there anything sadder than a bird who plucks its feathers out (and is there anything creepier looking)? The parrot was grieving for it's owner. Parrots should be in the jungle, but anyway. Later there was an aptly named cockatoo called Trouble who has psychotic tendencies towards it's owner. Again, parrots don't belong in cages. Morally, I couldn't agree with keeping one myself and am not surprised they are all quite mad. We don't keep moneys as pets, do we.
There was another woman with a whole plethora of variously disabled cats. One was a 'bit slow'. Aw. More shockingly was a constipated cat who couldn't go to the loo without his owners help! For god's sake. Oh fuck, he had a nappy too. Give me strength. These people are nuts. You expect to change a nappy if you have a baby. I'm not changing a bloody hamster's.
Don't get me wrong, I love animals. I totally understand how much people love their animals.
My cat had toxoplasmosis. She couldn't stand up. So we gave her a cuddle whilst she was put down. In the majority of cases, these people should do the same.

Saturday, 22 November 2008

X Factor: Car Crash special!

Here's a live blog, live from lightupvirginmary's living room (and bedroom too, I only have the one room!). It's Take That week, and I am watching something peculiar, some mass hallucination, some live trickery that even Dermot can't smooth over. Rachel comes out and sings flat EVERY WEEK. She sung so badly tonight I had to turn the telly down. Yet every week, they tell her she's amazing. Why? Why are they protecting her?
Meanwhile, Dannii is having a meltdown; crying on live TV. So the rumours are true, she is under serious pressure; no one seems to like her, Cheryl, Simon or Louis. I don't like her either, but fuck me, stop torturing her. Louis in particular is a poisonous little cunt. Imagine how pushed into a corner you must be to crack live on telly. Cheryl could have given her a cuddle or something. Dermot just pretended it wasn't happening, like every man in the face of an emotional female outburst. BOO! It would have been braver and nicer to have acknowledged it.
Almost EVERYONE was out of tune tonight. Diana was AWFUL and she's my favourite. She was like a drunk, witchy Kate Bush caught in a mangle. Yet the judges let that slide too. Do they have earplugs in? JLS. Out of tune. Ruth; shit.
My favourite at the mo is Eeyore Quigg, even though Charlie Brooker said he had a face like foetus. Even so, that children's choir/ pyrotechnics combo was beyond the pale. Total vomfest.
So on X Factor they forced Louis to say sorry to Dannii, haha. He did it in typically insincere style; prick.
Same Difference were miming!!! Wtf?! Did they forget how to sing in a year? Oh...
And Rhydian. Still fighting the ginger and any hint of charisma. (Soz, Mr B, but even you must be over it by now).
Rachel RIGHTLY went and didn't even put up a fight. I think it was pretty apparent the public didn't have blocked up ears. However, she actually did well in the sing off! But ultimately she was just too hit and miss.
The X Factor was just a big, fat mess tonight. Live TV. Pretty funny. Pretty awful.

Wednesday, 19 November 2008

Album Review: The Killers- Day & Age

What is it with the 80s?! I'm sick of the 80s. The 80s were shit then, and they are still shit, and they are not far enough away to be glamourised so mercilessly. One single solitary good band came out of the 80s, and if you can't work out who that was, then you're demented. All the 80s means to me is shit clothes and wankers. Surely it must be time for a 90s revival? Grunge, Britpop, beef and onion crisps, THAT'S what I'm talking about.
It doesn't seem like that long ago that Sam's Town came out, so either we are quite spoilt, or standards are slipping. Maybe it's a bit of both? Let me say before I rip into this album, as I surely will, I think Hot Fuss AND Sams Town (and actually, Sawdust) are some of the finest albums of all time. I think The Killers are brilliant, amazing live, catchy, wonderful, mum-friendly. There are hardly ANY songs of theirs I don't like. OK. Here goes.
Firstly, I hate the title. Secondly, I'm not sure about 'Human'. The lyrics are silly, which is fine, but it's more that I thought it was a bit of a weak first single. But I heard a dance remix of it which leant itself nicely to the synths anyway.
Anyhow, the album opens with Losing Touch and some horrible 80's Cars-esque nonsense, but that song picks up halfway through (when it appears to turn into another song, handily). They did that one on Jules Holland, I seem to recall. Spaceman actually sounds nicer on the record, I like his breathy struggling-to-keep-up singing and the key change (not sure about the o-o-oh's, it's a bit Bon Jovi, innit).
Joy Ride has an offensive start and an annoying guitar (I'm not a teenage boy, so I can't tell you why, but it's some irritating effect on it) and then, horror of horrors, a saxophone. Fuck you Keane. Fuck you, the girl who lives two doors down. Saxophones are NEVER, I repeat, NEVER acceptable. Never. Ever. Bad Brandon.
A Dustland Fairytale, as you can tell from the title, is more evocative of Sam's Town. I very much liked Sam's Town, particularly the completely over the top ones, like Why Do I Keep Counting and The River is Wild. This is very similar, but I like less the lyric 'castles in the sky' but the song is so dramatic and overblown in a pleasing way, so I'll forgive them.
This is Your Life has a marching drumbeat but made very little impression. I Can't Stay has maracas and another fucking saxophone (or something of that offensive brass ilk) and a bit that sounds like the music on Mario Kart when you drive round the beach (i.e. fucking annoying).
Neon Tigers is another I've heard live that doesn't do much for me. I really feel like some of these songs (sans the 80s posturing) might be growers though, so don't hold me to these thoughts, they are merely passing fancies.
The World We Live In is an awful, clunky title and reminded me of a song off a computer game as well. I think its the 80s, they make me think of Spectrums. Does that make for good music?
Goodnight, Travel Well, the final track, is what's commonly known as dirgy, and a bit of a morose ending to the album. And I'm a fan of melancholy, just not... er, tunelessness.
But then there's two bonus tracks for good measure, which I think is only fair, ten tracks is a bit stingy, non? A Crippling Blow is a jaunty, horsey-hoof film soundtrack sounding song. I liked the squidgy, crunchy bit in the middle of it, it reminded me of Cartoon Blues by Bright Eyes. And finally Forget About What I Said which sounded very much like old-skool Killers to me, and was pretty good actually, in the vein of All The Pretty Faces or Smile Like You Mean It. In fact, this was my favourite song off the whole album on first listen, and it's not even on the proper album! Typical me.
Ultimately I think the album is a bit of a mess, trying to be a bit of this and a bit of that, whereas Hot Fuss and Sam's Town had a clear theme. This is like Hot Town 80s, and suffers as a result. I forgive them though, they can't be consistently good always, or they'd just be robots. I still think this will be on heavy rotation at mine. I don't hate it, I just think it's a bit of a muddle. But there are no songs I'd utterly disown, they all have redeeming features (apart from... you guessed it... the saxophones).
PS. Brandon. Thanks for shaving off the tash, now please get those veneers sawn off, they are fucking RIDICULOUS. Ta.

Tuesday, 18 November 2008

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here: Moron Watch

OK, the final go before I join the cult, or give up.
That page three girl is interminable; I can think of few things less sexy than women who won't let their partners see them without make up on; do you think she pauses mid romp (!) to put bronzer on or comb her hair (I bet she does!) Good looking people moaning about how ugly they are is only marginally less annoying than skinny people moaning they are fat. Yes, you are generically good looking, and thin. Now go read a book, dumbass.
Am I the only one to find Joe Swash's cheeky chappy schtick very, very annoying? He's like some 15-year-old you went to school with. Awful. Star Trek dude is growing on me. His accent is good.
I genuinely felt like NOTHING happened tonight. It all seemed completely pointless.
Urgh, I still can't decide whether to watch it or not. It's like choosing to have a cold, or a minor disfigurement. I could really be doing something more productive.
Now here's the really important question, how come my BT Vision box happily let me watched that dross, then BBC4 stopped working the second I went to watch Charlie Brooker? Seriously, fuck you, BT, and your cloying, sexist adverts. Even better; I just rescanned my channels and BBC4 has now disappeared. Lovely.
It better be up on the Iplayer the SECOND it finishes. Not happy!

Monday, 17 November 2008

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here: The Glastonbury edition

Glastonbury season without the music, your friends, food or any drugs (but with Kilroy). Thats what the rain reminded me of on tonights show. I would crack after TEN SECONDS!!! I am such a baby. And they are getting paid fuck-all as well! Mugs.
Most, but by no means all, moronic comments of the night: 'Will my boobs shrink if I lose weight?' and 'I suppose you can live on water'.
How interesting that Kilroy likes the women who's a dumb bitch but not the one who answers back.
Bushtucker trials... it's just licensed torture of desperadoes. Imagine anyone you respect doing one. It's impossible, isn't it. Whatever happened to dignity???
Kilvoy vs Brian: it was proper ape mentality. Kilroy is a piece of work! How long before the 'shirtlifters' comment? Come on, it's only a matter of time. You know it. I know it. The producers know it. Why else do you think he's there?
So is anyone coming off likeable? Martina. Dr Spock's mate. And er... I'm reserving judgement for the moment.
I'm giving it one more day before I decide if I give up on it!
PS. Mickey. Ginger and balding. He drew a seriously short straw somewhere, didn't he?
(disclaimer: I like gingers, just not him)

Sunday, 16 November 2008

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here

You may have observed my blog has been a wee bit dead lately; it's cos I've been watching torrents of The Pick Up Artist and America's Next Top Model because nothing good has been on TV. And there's still nothing good on... so I'm watching this. As ever, it'll be 50/50 whether I get past the first episode.
So, the line-up. What comes after Z in the alphabet? When the star attraction is Robert Kilroy Silk (and he is for me, I couldn't give two fucks about Martina Navratilova, it's not like she's going to have it off in the jungle, and her sexuality is all people care about) you're in serious trouble. Will Kilroy do a Jim Davidson? I hope so. Who else? Mickey from Eastenders and his scouring pad hair. Someone I've never heard of's fiancee. The dull one out of Blue (quite a feat). A gay copper (since when were the filth celebrities?). A page 3 girl I've never heard of. Dani Behr, who I'd forgotten even existed, and I was quite happy with that (although she don't half look bad for her age). And finally, the third most famous person from Star Trek.
I can't tell you what happened for the middle 20 minutes, because my freeview box started doing an impression of a Spectrum having a spazz attack. It was very squarey, that I can tell you.
And we're back. Kilroy... 'there's gonna be problems with the women, they are quite opinionated.' and 'We're getting the wood, that's what guys do.' Uh-oh!
Joe Swash on gay people: 'it's not like you can't do things as good as a straight person.' Nice!
I can't be doing with all the bushtucker trials unless they are classics like Paul Burrell or Dean Gaffney. I want to see genuine fear. All in all, a pretty rubbish opening episode. But really, what did I expect?

Monday, 10 November 2008

X Factor- Dodgy Dealings

What is going on on the X Factor? Last week the Toby Anstis love-child Austin was cruelly struck down, and this week, little Laura was culled, after ridiculously prolonged discussion about her styling (er, it's not Project Runway). Something is amiss here; and I'm going to call out Louis Walsh as the instigator of doom. He always gets the last vote and he always, always fluffs it. The man is an idiot! He is not funny, and his snippy, squinty little jibes at Simon for the whole show were just pathetic. Louis; you are employed as Simon Cowell's kicking boy, don't you get that? You're not Cowell, you're not even Piers Morgan. You are beginning to look as shambolic as Pete Waterman. Give it up. I actually felt sorry for him when they ditched him last year, now I wish they'd thrown him in the canal and had done with it.
The vote should have been thrown out to the public. And why is Simon Cowell now squawking about losing Laura when he voted for Ruth? I think he believed Louis would pick Laura. And Louis fugged it. Badly. From the look on Cheryl's face, if I was JLS I'd be VERY afraid next time it's down to the wire. I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of her judging from her past criminal record.
But it shouldn't be about that, should it? Revenge and grudges. It should be about the singing. And Laura did not deserve to go. Ruth is nice enough but she's never going to win it. Other people who should have gone before Laura: Daniel, Rachel, Eeyore, in fact, everyone except the other two girls (I'm not being sexist, the girls category is exceptionally good this year). Daniel must feel embarrassed getting the sympathy vote every week and must be bursting to get rid of that dye-job (even mine is looking better, and mine is pretty dodgy). Rachel is so horrible she even makes me feel sorry for Dannii Minogue.
I'm just really glad they didn't let Diana sing with a sore throat or she'd have probably been bottom two as well.
As for Mariah Carey; what a cunt. She really does make looking smug into an art-form.

Sunday, 2 November 2008

Peaches: Disappear Here (MTV)

My best mate once said 'hasn't Peaches Geldof got a peculiar face?' and never has it been more evident than in this show. She also seems to have a bit of a lisp, or a blocked up nose, or is it just that generic thick-tongued posh accent? I can't tell the difference. Either way, she should get it looked at (or lay off the coke). Also, she appeared to have a double-chin and a fright wig on.
So this show saw Peaches starting up her own magazine of extremely pretentious-looking people. However, you had to pity them; the thought of that retard bossing me around is just beyond the pale. I'd rather go suck cock on a street corner.
Listening to her bang on about what alternative culture was just painful, like seeing a 10 year old in a Sex Pistols t-shirt. She's about as alternative as Girls Aloud. How alternative is nepotism anyway? Ooh she hates the Kooks. Even that fucking lead singer's own mother would hate that shit. Big wows. The funny part is I watched this on the MTV video player thing which was advertising the bloody Kooks album in the corner! Cutting edge.
The whole thing stank of fake anyway; all the writers looked like models who'd just stepped out of a salon, Peaches's 'PA' seemed like she was on her first job out of acting school. The set (sorry, magazine office) looked like the IT Crowd.
Listening to Peaches say 'As a writer...' was offensive to the ear. Also, I've also only ever heard a complete idiot describe another person as a 'try-hard'. How old are you, you desperate moron?
This pig in a dress shouldn't be allowed out after 10pm, let alone be allowed to marry. Truly terrifying.

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

Rant: Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand

I have been so angry about this all day that this is the first move I've made since coming home. No bath, no food, I just have to get this off my chest because I'm going to EXPLODE.
And fuck you the 18,000 who complained about RB because you weren't his real listeners.
Let me say first I listened to the podcast the week it went out, half of it at work, and half wandering round on my ipod. And the only thing I remember thinking was, 'are they really leaving that message on his answerphone?' and laughing a bit. It was pretty funny when they kept ringing back and back; it WAS totally outrageous, but this is Russell FUCKING Brand. His whole schtick is being on the edge. If you don't want a presenter who is going to say close the the bone things, don't employ Russell-turned-up-as-Saddam-Hussein-on-Sept-12 Brand. It's not a difficult equation!
Do you know what really bugs me about this, though (apart from EVERYTHING)? The fucking Daily Mail contingent do NOT listen to Russell Brand anyway! So why should THEY deny me the pleasure? I don't try and get Littlejohn banned although he is completely and utterly offensive every week. Perhaps that's the backlash required. Let's get the fucking racist homophobe Littlejohn sacked in return, the fat fucking spudhead. COME ON, CENSOR ME, YOU FAT PRICK! No, you can't, can you?
Furthermore, Manuel, or whatever his fucking name is, said HE WAS NOT BOTHERED. He said there was too much of a fuss. And EVEN IF HE HADNT, wouldn't he be MORE offended by the fact his darling innocent granddaughter is in a group called the Satanic SLUTS, for fuck's sake? Perhaps he should have a words with that sweet, pure grandaughter of his about HER language!
And it is not anti-feminist of me to point that out. She was plastered over the paper today attacking someone who I genuinely care about, someone who I admire, and who is the greatest comedian of our generation (no, not Jonathan Ross). I've often heard Russell talking affectionately about her and her group or dance troupe or whatever they are on his show, and she is kicking him right in the balls in return. I hope her 'career' disintegrates, because Russell has a damn sight more fans than she does.
The whole ridiculous irony of the 'hurt and offence' is somewhat marred by pictures of her in fishnets and PVC protesting she never slept with Russell. Whether she did or she didn't, she should have, the dopey fucking mare. And as for the 'elderly' Andrew Sachs (alright, I've learnt his name now) that's the most AGEIST thing I've ever heard. Pathetic. He will probably get punched on the street now by some irate RB or JRO lover, so well done, you complaining ninnies.
Is Ponderland being shelved now? I'm fucking furious about this! I'm even furious about Jonathan Ross getting canned, and I could take him or leave him. He is pretty funny, if a bit crude.
My boyfriend said 'it's all for show and it will all blow over' and I KNOW that's true, and I KNOW they have to be seen to be doing something BUT it still makes me angry that we have to pander to these soppy fucking cunts going 'oh, I'm offended by it', then DON'T LISTEN TO IT! You're not offended by it, you just want to destroy Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross because they are both mega rich, funny, and happy. They actually have happy lives and you can't fucking STAND IT. You just wan the universe to be bland and one dimensional and probably full of gardening programmes and fucking Terry Wogan.
To all who complained; I HATE YOU! And Morrissey hates you, so there.
Forget vote Obama, reinstate Brand NOW. You're lucky he even does your shitty Radio 2 show.

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

Charlie Brooker: Dead Set

Oh my God! I just watched the first episode of Dead Set (I was asleep by ten last night so had to get it on catch up) It was fucking ace!!! I literally cannot think of anything better than a mixture of Charlie Brooker and Big Brother (with zombies on top). That is perfection!
It started off all Ricky Gervais being postmodern in Extras-style with one of the contestants clearly too clever to be in there. The dialogue was SO Brooker. I could imagine him saying it, especially the mustachioed producer's lines. I thought Jamie Winstone was excellent, too. The zombies were dead scary!!! The special effects were a bit good, weren't they?
It was funny watching an imaginary Big Brother. That's how the casual BB observer must feel about the contestants; they are just vacant idiots. But we get to know and love (and hate) them! I loved the touch of having the ex-housemates in there (Charlie and Ash-LEEEN! in cahoots again) and I loved Davina going all zombie-nation, her acting wasn't too shabby.
I liked the touches of someone going 'remember I told you' and how the contestants are basically just stereotypes. I liked the balance being thrown out by the cameras packing up, and them not being protected or watched anymore.
The best bit was when Jamie Winstone went in the house and they went 'are you a mong?' and she told the Brian Molko one he was the favourite. That was fab.
I want to watch the second one but I'm too scared!!! It has to be done though.
I love Charlie Brooker and he's intelligent as fuck and he loves Big Brother and he hates nearly everything, and that's a good enough example of living for me.

Kerry Katona: Whole Again (MTV)

Ooh you can watch MTV shows on their website now, result. I'd do Peaches tomorrow. But first; Katona. After the This Morning debacle this week I felt quite sorry for her, and even more so after watching this show. You kind of get used to the gurning but that husband of hers is such a cunt, and I don't use that word lightly (well, half-lightly) . The way they speak to each other is absolutely horrific, I wouldn't talk to my worst enemy like that. He is hideous, abusive, and parasitic. His pet name for her appears to be 'freak'. Nice.
Her 'old' body wasn't even that bad. From the pics you see of her she used to look enormous, but when she was naked she looked fine, her boobs weren't even saggy, and she wasn't very fat. It's all the mental abuse and crap from the media that have made her paranoid. Surgery is such a bad example to set to boneheaded young teenagers. Kerry Katona started off in a girl band with a popstar husband, and now she's on some sort of drugs (prescription or otherwise), dating a taxi driver and getting cut up on TV. It's kind of depressing.
It was interesting seeing her go mega blonde as I am going super blonde again soon! The grunting egg she is married too grumbled 'I like it better brown'; of course you do, you wouldn't want her to actually be considered attractive by other people would you? You might lose your Darth Vader-like grip on her. Sadly, as long as she's doped up to the breast implants, I think he's got her firmly under control. Hey ho. It is sad that people profit from this wreckage of a relationship, and I guess sad that I am watching it, but really someone somewhere should say, stop. Or just not put her on. But it's too late to turn back now, so we may as well just rubberneck away.

Saturday, 25 October 2008

Miss Naked Beauty

This programme was ridiculous! I only watched it because Platell slated it so bad in the Mail, (I think she's a homophobe) and I too hated it, but for a different reason. One. It is patronising as fuck. This 'natural beauty' thing is a crock; MOST of the women were still thin or normal weight. Conversely, I feel sorry for women who are genuinely thin and are constantly being told they are anorexic (but not THAT sorry). Two. It is NOT traumatic to have no make up on. You are not 'brave' or 'incredible'. It's your fucking face, you thickos! Deal with it, we have to.
It was cruel to make them wear bikinis then spray them with hoses though. Gok was giving it a load of flannel about 'the beauty inside' (is that why you lost several stone?) and 'loving yourself'. Also, what was the point in Mylene (in fact, that question extends far beyond this show).
It makes me angry/ sad to see how much the average woman on the street hates themselves and their appearance (even the beautiful ones). It shouldn't be that way. I hate fashion magazines/ makeover shows/ plastic surgery for making us feel that way. I hate fashion full stop- it is an entirely empty world.
This programme was just as vindictive in a way as 10 Years Younger; the women were still being judged on their appearance by a bunch of cunts (Mica Paris, dear God, please help me). It was supposed to be an anti-Miss World, but they were still harping on about wanting to do something 'worthwhile', as if the sight of a normal woman is going to rock the earth on it's axis.
Well it isn't. NB. I once saw Gok in the street in Covent Garden and he looked me up and down dissaprovingly.

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

Apollo Theatre: Rain Man

Woo- I've gone all high culture on you this week! Last night my gorgeous friend came down from Scotland to take me out to see Josh Hartnett in Rain Man. Of course, we both wanted to go for the purest of reasons: because Josh is hot.
The last time I went to the theatre for that reason was to see One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest with everyone's favourite eyebrows, Christian Slater (sadly, his eyebrows have gone to seed). But Rain Man was actually much, much better. I have never seen the film (I have hated Tom Cruise consistently throughout the decades) but I think it was an advantage to go into it cold. I will watch the film now I've seen this though.
Despite missing the start (oops) we were soon up to speed. We had to sit on the end cos we were late, somewhere right up near the ceiling. That theatre is nuts; I had vertigo! For the first half we could only really see the top of Josh's head, which wasn't ideal; but I really enjoyed the story and I liked the sets, too. I liked the simplicity of them, and the way they changed over.
For the second half and in our rightful seats we could see a lot better. I thought the story was really moving and quite funny at times; I wasn't expecting to be laughing at it. I thought Josh was excellent; I was funny expecting him to be completely wooden (I've tried to get over his performance in Blow Dry but the scar remains) but actually he played this arrogant arsehole character pretty well. The English actor who played Rain Man was also excellent. I'm sure there are vast bits of the film that were missed out (could it really have ended like that?!) and I definitely had questions at the end (could Josh's character really be arsed to look after his brother forever?) but on the whole, it was a great show.
Afterwards we scurried round to the stage door to get a bit of extra Josh action. He skulked out, complained he 'couldn't look up and sign at the same time' then went back in again. It's a bind being so handsome and successful, isn't it? He did do a lovely smile in our direction, but this was the exact moment my battery on my camera died. Those Duracells are fucking counterfeit, I tell you!

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

Documentary- Dawn Porter: Geisha Girl


Sunday, 12 October 2008

The X Factor: First Live Show

Hands up who's sick of that Little Britain voiceover guy? He's on the adverts, he's on the quiz shows, he's probably even the fucking banker on Deal. Well, I'm sick of his schtick. He's more omnipotent than talk about the credit crunch. He's about as cutting edge as a night out with Duffy. So, perfect for the X Factor really.
So, let's get it out of the way early; I miss Sharon. I miss the unpredictability that she might punch someone. Cheryl and Dannii aren't going to punch each other, much as the producers would have us believe they want to. Cheryl is alright, don't get me wrong, but with her monotone accent and Dannii Minogue's mooing, it's like they are having a competition to see who sounds most like a geezer-bird. (I apologise for the use of the word bird, but it fitted with geezer nicely)
Dermot declared it 'a great honour' to go first; actually, it's normally first on, first out, so not so great. Here goes something:
GIRL BAND: Louis nodded furiously. They sounded flat and their dancing was stiff. The song had no high notes or low notes, lucky for them. They are quite ordinary, and the Quality-Street dresses were duff too. Why were the judges so kind?
AUSTIN (Allegro): Androgyny! I'm a boy and he's a girl and all that. Might look good in a dress? Did Sting which was unpleasant. Sang it OK but nothing to get excited about, despite his leather trousers. I kind of fancy him, and am kind of repulsed by him, so it's a weird mixture.
DANIEL: This years sob story (tm). He seems lovely but X factor? Non! Not with a name as catchy as Daniel Evans. Oh God, flat as the battery on my laptop (still dead!) Awful song. Styling. Dated. Dreadful. Haha Louis compared him to Ricky Gervais taking the piss! Meow! It's not 'sob story' Idol, Dannii. Next!
ALEXANDRA: Last week I wanted the little blonde Samanda lookalike in instead of Alexandra, but I have to say, she does have a good voice, the best so far, certainly. Sparkly! Diva! Pretty! But still a bit boring.
JLS: What does JLS stand for? I demand to know! Oh, they said. Jack the lad swing??? What the fuck? Are they dyslexic? I thought their voices sounded quite reedy tonight, but I thought they were alright in the auditions. Is it me, or do they all look quite... petite?
SCOTT: Just what the world needs, another Shane Ritchie! SWING! I can just about deal with schwing! when it was Leon Jackson dishing it out like a cut-price but still fuckable Josh Harnett. Shane Richie's love-child and I have to draw the line. SHIT! '110%'!!! Check! 110% was not enough in this case, peculiarly.
RACHEL: Oh dear. I know she's a cunt but even she didn't deserve being made into a cut-price Gabrielle. Her hair was nice before! Frowny, shrieky, shit outfit, dreadful dancing. Simon looked like I felt. Shame, as she has a fantastic voice, even if she looks like she will nut you if you look at her the wrong way. I wasn't buying her 'thank you, that's been taken on board' replies to the comments. It was like a robot giving you a kiss. Dannii fucked this one good and proper.
DIANA: My favourite by a country mile. There is actually something unusual about her; i.e. she does appear to have some star quality, or this mythical X Factor. Thank god she's ditched that frosty pink lipstick. Fuck, they gave her U2! And still she did it. She's great, fuck you Dannii saying she overdid the quirky. She IS quirky, i.e. not bland like you.
BAD LASHES: I think Bat for Lashes may have something to say about this band name, but I don't think she needs to worry quite yet. What are bad lashes anyway? Naughty lashes! Behave! Ooh Roxette! Power ballad city. They seem more sexy than Girl Band, a bit more rough around the edges, which I like. Cheryl called them 'spunky'. Simon rolled out the 'eating water' description again. He's used that one before, as Bad Lashes rightly (and impressively) pointed out just as I was writing it. Can we pull his string for a new metaphor?
EOGHAN: Try texting that in! Oh fucking hell, fucking IMAGINE! FUCK OFF IMAGINE! If I NEVER hear Imagine EVER AGAIN I will still wish John Lennon has been shot ten years before he wrote the fucking thing. I'd rather listen to the Frog Chorus. And yes, I have said that before. I've got Simon Cowell disease. I actually like Eoghan (or OWEN, if you're confused and reading this) though. He's good. Danni cracking onto him! Trying to steal Mrs. O's crown. Naughty!
RUTH: I just cannot, cannot, cannot bring myself to care. Ooh, Spanish. So what? AVERAGE! Ooh, Stars in Your Eyes ending, they havent had one of those for a while. PS. Ruth doesn't sound like a very Spanish name to me.
LAURA: Oh God, Alicia Keys. I want to punch Alicia Keys in the face. Her and Jack White could happily be sent to the fucking moon and left there if I had my way, the pair of vain, boring bastards. But anyway, this is about Laura. Despite Alicia, she has one of the best voices in the competition. Only Diana to beat for her.
Urgh, Dermot said 'cracking'! This is my number one pet hate of the moment.
Results show... mm, Leon flashback. He's the fittest midget ever! Drool! Mr Blister, who are you backing this year? There's no real Rhydian campness, is there?
I liked the fact they made the bottom two sing different songs as it's such a fast-forward fest when they sing the same song again. Ooh, deadlock. 'Citing.
Bad Lashes shouldn't have gone!!! I liked them. I liked the one with the big face, and I liked the one who had hair a bit like me. And I even liked their mild murdering of Wonderwall!
Well, it's certainly not like the British public to make the wrong choice is it? Much! Booo.

Thursday, 9 October 2008

Documentary- Dispatches: The Hidden World of Lap Dancing

Sorry I’m a couple of days late on this one, but thank god for More 4, because I’m still without laptop. This episode of Dispatches followed a poor beleaguered reporter who was forced to go undercover in lap dancing clubs (it’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it). He discovered sometimes the lap dancers get a bit close (no shit) and occasionally, with the emphasis on occasionally, sex is offered.
Firstly, as a feminist, let me say I have massively mixed feelings about lap dancing. I completely agree that they should be licensed as sexual entertainment; not dancing. It IS sexual entertainment, and the law around them seems very ropey, and to have been designed with deliberate loop-holes. It does seem wrong. So I totally agree with that side of it.
BUT there is another side of it I just can't get excited about. I do not CARE if men want to go and watch women rub their fannies in their faces. I think the men are fools; they are paying mega bucks for what is essentially a load of hot air. I am also quite happy for women to make their money that way. It’s not what I want to do, but I am not going to deny others their liberty. Women are objectified everywhere you look, and it is depressing, but I can’t get excited about it when there are so much bigger issues facing women. To change the way magazines/ society sees women will take a hundred years, in my opinion. There are other fights we can win much sooner.
As for Mr and Mrs Jones going 'I hate the thought of what goes on in there' well, don't think about it! There is massively fucked-up stuff going on behind closed doors EVERYWHERE, but it’s none of your business. Part of it is just about one section of society trying to assert their moral values on another. One woman was like ‘we have to walk past it every day’, so what? It’s just like walking past a shop. It’s just a shop with a picture of a woman outside.
I understand to an extent why you’d be annoyed if there was a lapdancing club right beneath your block of flats because you might get comments from men/ a bit of hassle, but that is a problem with MEN, not lap dancing. And again, the licensing should be changed. That has nothing to do with what actually goes on inside the clubs, and the morality of it.
There is an odd group of people against lapdancing, and it seems a strange marriage between the very conservative and the feminists opposing the clubs. I want to really distance myself as much from the highly conservative people as possible; and I think feminists have a danger of looking po-faced and even anti-women in this debate. BUT porn and sex work is always something that divides feminists, and always will. I personally think prostitution should be legalised; and made safer. You can’t stop it. So make it safer for the women.
Personally I wanted to see more of the reporter’s FACE when he was getting the lapdances! I wonder if he got excited? Haha. Also, what amazing bodies the women had! Bloody hell. And how funny was that councillor bloke they interviewed for about 30 seconds? He was a comedy character in waiting!
So, licensing laws bad, busy-bodies bad, feminism doing it’s best and lap dancing not bad. That’s my position on it.

Wednesday, 8 October 2008

Documentary- Dawn Porter: Mail Order Bride

This week Dawn went to Russia to investigate a ‘mail-order bride event’. So can you ‘buy’ a wife easily? I think some people can and do. But this event seemed very dodgy from the start; in fact I’m amazed they even let them film it, it was so badly run.
The ‘high-calibre men, doctors, lawyers’ promised turned out to be various dysfunctional Americans, ranging from ordinary looking to comedy moustaches and possible third-degree burns. Fine, if they were what they said on the tin, but the majority of them (i.e. all but one) seemed anything but.
One in particular seemed particularly vile, so Dawn did a bit of digging around on their backgrounds and discovered several had various convictions (including for assault).
Third-degree-burns dude basically said he’d been wrongly convicted of assault, and then muddied the waters quite worryingly by saying, ‘Imagine if every time you hit or slapped someone you got accused of assault.’ Er- that IS assault.
Also anything but what was promised was the agency itself. None of the girls were interested in the men, but instead came for the free food, and the manager’s scruples were somewhat shaky. Dawn asked about the men’s credentials/ criminal records, and the woman replied, ‘These are educated men, they know how to use the internet.’ When Dawn protested that the ability to click a mouse didn’t equal brains or morals, the woman said ‘there is a direct correlation between men who can use the internet and them not being violent.’ Tell that to a million abused children and battered wives. Dawn did go a little Louis Theroux at this point, but that was about as far as the challenge went.
The bizarre last part of the show surrounded Third-degree-burns guy telling Dawn she fancied him (not likely, mate) and berating a pretty Russian woman over dinner for daring to have talked to another man at the introduction party. Wasn’t that the point?!
And what was with that Christian guy handing out Jelly Beans with Bible quotes sellotaped on? It’s not my idea of a come-on, but hey, I’ll take the sweets.
All in all not as good as last weeks but still a zillion times better than anything Dave Gorman has ever put his name to. Dawn rocks.

Monday, 6 October 2008

Corrie/ Enders: Waste of Paint

It's not often Corrie quotes Bright Eyes but it's fun when it does- Becky to Jason: 'you're a waste of paint!' I LOVED Becky's decline tonight; and she was right, Jason is too thick for her and he deserves whiney little Sarah Platt. I loved her complaining she spent seven quid on a candle before throwing it at him as he left. She seemed to have had her highlights done at some point between the first and second episode, and she looked cool when she leapt over the bar to beat the shit out of Jason. I loved her totally going nuclear and stealing someone's purse and smashing a window and then Steve Macdonald accidentally humping her. Her self-destruction seemed oddly realistic and genuinely heartbreaking at the end.
Also, how ungrateful is that bookie guy? Leanne is buying the betting shop for him and he goes out on the pull? Cock. As for Lian and Carla: I must have missed the episode where he had a brain transplant.
Enders was nowhere NEAR as good; Archie is too simple a bully; and would Peggy stand for it? This is a woman famous for her feuds. What's up with that guy who fancies Christian? He's a bit creepy, I think he's just after dirt on Ronnie. Christian, you're too good for him! I cant stand that woman dating Phil either; she's pointless and annoying. The only good thing is the paedo storyline. Whitney is excellent.
Final scores: Corrie 1- Enders-0.

Thursday, 2 October 2008

Documentary- True Stories: Chosen

Last night I watched an utterly harrowing and affecting documentary on More 4. I don’t know if this has been on before but it is so powerful and definitely worth a watch on the catch up. You probably didn’t see it, because only someone as relentlessly depressing as me puts themselves through such painful stuff. I watched the one where they set up a camera on the Golden Gate Bridge to watch people topping themselves, too, and that was a laugh a minute as well, let me tell you.
Chosen was basically three interviews with three men who were abused by the same couple of teachers (and their friend) at a private boarding school at the age of 11. It was very simply shot, with no fancy special effects or reconstructions. It was literally just head shots of the men being interview interlaced with some photographs of them as boys. The fact that you could be so gripped by that for two hours tells you everything about the powerful nature of their words and their stories. I was totally lost in it, and afterwards I felt like their stories had become a part of my psyche, if that doesn’t sound too dramatic (oh, it does).
I was struck by the sheer dignity of these men; and how brave and strong they must have been as children to endure such horrific crimes. They were all so eloquent and composed on the surface; but you could see them falter often as they talked about the horrors they had been subjected to; and it was utter horror, repeated over and over. You could see how real it was to them even now, how it was just seared onto their memory forever. You can’t ever escape it or get over it, I suspect, you just have to learn to deal with it.
The loss of innocence, the fear, and the weight of keeping the secret all took their toll. I was impressed with the honesty of all three of the men, who admitted as victims they had felt special, it just became normal to be raped and it did not occur to them to tell their parents, and had even felt jealous when they found out they weren’t the only ones.
I can’t begin to imagine the inhumanity of their teachers, and that matron, who just looked on, but eventually blew the whistle. But even when the whistle was blown; the events were played down, the teachers got away with it, and the parents even sent the boys back to the school.
Not until years later once their parents had died did the men take action. On of the men said poignantly ‘our parents had thrown us to the lions’ but that instinct to protect their parents from the reality of the real harm that had been done to them was so strong. That was something amazing in itself, that they wanted to protect their parents, the way their parents had not been able to protect them. Some had not spoken of what happened in 30 years. Some victims would not come forward. But they had to speak out, because the abuse could have still been going on.
As it was, one of the teachers got sentenced to a miserly 12 months. The other got off scot-free, due to the passage of time/ good character/ blah blah blah. I don’t consider child abusers to be of good character, ever. The judges who make these decisions are just closet paedos themselves as far as I’m concerned; how else could they hand down such sentences? I hope they watch this film and weep and repent, because they need to. You could see the truth in the men’s eyes as they told their stories; it’s written there for all to see. The fact that one of the victims could describe the headmasters twisted testicle seemed to account for nothing. Their words; nothing.
Yet the grown men, the victims did not seem bitter. Utterly damaged forever, yes, but they forged own lives for themselves, with wives and children. They seemed glad they had stood up and been counted. They just wanted it not to happen again, ever. I don’t want to think that this could still happen these days.
But it will. And here my liberalness dissolves; because I say kill child abusers of this kind. Any man who can rape a child does not deserve to exist on this planet, and if that makes me sound Daily Mail, then I don’t give a shit. Because it can’t be more wrong than that headmaster, a man in a position of such trust, still being allowed to breathe air after raping children. It’s like knowing the bogeyman is still alive.
And what is the point in that? Just take the old man out and shoot him.

Wednesday, 1 October 2008

Rant: The London Paper- Make-up on the tube (shock horror!)

Firstly, I hate the columns in the London Paper. You are not a writer because you think you’ve made some genius point about something stupid that no one outside London cares about anyway. You can’t write. You’re not funny. You're a stereotype. But you have ENRAGED me, thus, I will reply here, on my own terms, in my fantabulous blog.
Yesterday one of the readers wrote a lazy column about the so-awful-it-must-be-stopped-before-someone-dies INJUSTICE of people putting make up on on the tube. Except of course it’s not ‘people’ who do that, it’s women. A woman hating on other women! Well I never, what a shock. Women deal in misogyny so beautifully these days that we hardly need men to do it for us.
Apart from the fact the column is badly-written (that’s a given), I do not understand the complaint. I literally cannot understand it whatsoever. Talk of ‘modesty’ is a cloak for oppression as far as I’m concerned. This dimwit compares putting on make up to ‘cleaning your teeth’ on the tube. I’d like to see you try it, darling. (Ooh I came over all Littlejohn then, pet!) ‘Bulging make up bags!’ Whatever next? Bulging rucksacks full of bombs would be preferably, presumably. Also, ‘like wildfire’ is the laziest description ever. Don't even ATTEMPT to write if this is the kind of crap you are going to churn out.
If anything, I actually think I should be COMMENDED for putting my make up on on the tube. I’d like to see you do liquid eyeliner in the exact five seconds the train becomes stationary. In fact, I think it’s sexy when I see women putting make up on on the tube. I think they look cool, and it’s fascinating to see people’s routines. If you’re being ‘subjected to it’; try looking at something else. Read a book, you idiot. You don’t need to worry about me poking my eye out; I do this every morning, just to annoy clucking bores like you.
Things I don’t like to look at on the tube; other people’s armpits, babies, people kissing, people picking their nose, people eating KFC, JKFC and PFC, sanctimonious people tutting at someone putting a bit of lipstick on, people reading their papers on someone else’s back, people turning up their shit RnB music on their crappy mp3 players. Do you hear me complaining? Yes you do, but only because you have driven me to it!
I don’t WANT to get up early to put make up on. I want to stay in bed for five minutes longer. What kind of sadist wants to get out of bed in the mornings? I hate waiting at platforms, so if I can do my mascara whilst you stand there like a numpty fretting about how you’re going to squeeze into the next carriage, who wins? I got up late, and I’m filling in time, not getting stressed. I'm also small enough to fit into that tiny gap in front of you. Sweet.
As for the point that we are ‘ruining the illusion’, oh dear; are you the type of person who won’t let your boyfriend see you without make up on? Feminism lives! Sex with the lights off, is it?It’s not an illusion in my case, I don’t wipe my make up off at night and turn into a gargoyle, I don’t trowel it on to hide something. It’s merely a quick, painless enhancement.
‘White wine spritzers’- somebody shoot me. Also that last paragraph makes no sense either. Who are you, Bridget Jones?
I admit this is a particular hot topic of mine at the moment; I recently had a row on a messageboard about it (yeah, I don’t get out much, because people like the person who wrote this column are everywhere)! Morrissey, on one of his many underrated b-sides, sang ‘If you don’t like me, don’t look at me. There must be somebody else who can take your gaze away.’ And I couldn’t agree more. Look at some braindead bloke instead. You'll still be getting off alone because you're uptight and annoying.

Documentary- Dawn Porter: Free Lover

I started watching the documentary ‘Dawn Porter: Free Lover’ with a number of misconceptions. I put it on as a bit of fluff in the background, recognising her vaguely from Balls of Steel (a pretty awful programme, I’m sure you’ll agree). I thought, ‘Ah, here’s a poor man’s Daisy Donovan.’ And a poor man’s Daisy Donovan is very poor indeed.
Not so! I can’t stand Daisy Donovan, finding her an un-heady mix of dull and chronically unfunny. Dawn Porter, as it turned out, was quite lovely. Cute, sarcastic but nice, and most of all, brave.
She went to investigate polyamory, first in the US and then Germany (where else?) These weren’t people who had five or six wives, but just people who liked to share their love (i.e. shag around). All the men had ponytails.
In the US there was rather too much emphasis on ‘spiritual healing’ and dumb roleplay (and not of the dressing up like a nurse kind) for my liking. Still, Dawn threw herself in with aplomb, and came across charming, funny and very likeable.
In Germany they lived commune-style (like in a cult but without God, paedophilia and the expectation to commit suicide at the end of it). Dawn got under the surface of the place almost by accident and found out- what do you know?- that jealousy ran rife through the compound. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that there was a price to pay for all that endless shagging. Still the lure of three cocks or fannies on the go made the Germans stick around, endlessly seething that their partners were getting it off someone else.
So far, so predictable really; but Dawn herself really made the show something to talk about in the end by doing something I think Louis Theroux would have balked at. You always think you know where the line is in these kind of shows; i.e. Dawn was probably not going to join the sex cult and take on a few lovers herself. But about halfway through the show I thought, ‘hold on’ when she sat in the hot tub (what is it with sex and hot tubs?) with a bunch of them with her top off.
Then one of the German’s told her about the ‘oil party’ when they all pile into the basement (literally) and get covered in oil. He said something along the lines of ‘you end up not knowing who or what you’re touching, and we just become one mass.’
To my great surprise, Dawn decided to take part in it. And it really was a revelation; it looked very sexy somehow, and God knows how, because these Germans were not too pretty. They must have thought Christmas had come early when Dawn rolled up. There was no actual sex or penetration, but they basically poured oil on each other and themselves very slowly (I think someone was chanting or reading something too, it wasn’t like a foam party exactly) and then gradually they started to touch each other and it looked all slidey and arty and peculiarly horny. It did seem to challenge the very question of sexuality as these people writhed together not knowing who they were touching but getting off on it anyway. It also looked very cool.
Afterwards Dawn looked in a state of shock but buzzing as she told how some woman felt her crotch and she took it with good grace. I thought she was incredibly brave to have gone ahead with that; especially when documentaries of this sort are often so keen to stitch the participants up, or treat them with contempt. These people have invited you into their home, the least you can do is get naked and oily with them! Ha.
Is Dawn the new Louis Theroux? No. Would Louis have got stuck into the oil party? No. Therefore, Dawn wins.
I will be watching this again next week!

Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Jess: My New Face/ Britain's Youngest Grannies/ The Virgin Daughters

I've been laptop-less so hence the lack of bloggage; apologies. I'm still without the tools of the trade, but I'm doing a sneaky one at work, shh, don't tell the children.
So with little to do except clean out my cupboards at home, Eminem-stylee, I have been catching up on some taped TV.
I very much enjoyed Jess: My New Face, a documentary about 17-year-old Jess Lee, who was born with a facial disfigurement due to a condition called apert syndrome. hate to be a BBC snob, but the quality of this documentary seemed a lot better than the usual Channel 4/5 churn-outs. She was a likeable character, torn between having surgery to look more 'acceptable' to society and maybe get a boyfriend, and wanting society to change and accept her (good luck). It was touching when her dad spoke of standing between her and the general public to protect her from their stares as a child.
Her deformity wasn't THAT bad anyway, but the surgery she had was quite dramatic. I was surprised they could change her face to that extent and she looked very normal afterwards. However, her own personal choice to have surgery didn't quite gel with her quest to meet other people who differed from the norm and accepted themselves more fully. Did she want people to take her as she was? If the other people she knew who were disfigured were 'beautiful on the inside' then why couldn't people see that beauty in her, too? Of course, this is relative; I don't blame her for having the op. It is a complex philosophical question that won't be answered in Heat magazine anytime soon.
So, Jess went off to meet one girl with a similar condition to her who looked more 'normal' after an op. Then Jess met a striking redhead who was a burns victim and was badly scarred, but somehow still seemed beautiful.
I liked the Japanese albino; she was really stunning. But then I'm the sort of person who sees different i.e. unique as good, not bad. There is a whole sub-section of society who is happy to point and laugh. Well, let them be stupid. And I'm sure Jess will get what she wants in the future, more surgery or not. Not everyone out there is ignorant- just most people.
Talking of which; Britain's Youngest Grannies was at completely the other end of the scale of programming; lowest common denominator stuff. Women who got pregnant at 16, and then their daughters followed suit. These women were only five years older than me, and grannies! Actually though; everyone seemed quite happy with their lot. I thought there would have been more of a judgemental tone; but actually the grannies were (and were portrayed as) quite happy, fun-loving, and good parents. So they also liked nights out on the town having a snog? Fair enough. But as a programme, not very ground-breaking or interesting.
The Virgin Daughters on Channel 4 was a bit of a let-down, too. I normally like all the fire and brimstone, but this was a bit of a damp squib. So the creepy dad who seemed permanantly attached to his daughter's shoulder gets her to parrot crap about STDs and purity. I've heard it all before. As Russell Brand so recently quoted someone else (I've forgotten who); by putting 'SEX' at the forefront of people's brains, even though the message is 'Don't have SEX' it's still 'SEX' that is the key word, and it makes people think about nothing but. That's the key problem with these people; they're obsessed with sex.
Is it a good idea to marry the first guy you kiss and have your first kiss on your wedding day? In a way it sounds magical. It sounds like something out of a fairytale. Yet, generally, it seems it's just the girls who haven't done it before, the blokes have been around the block, because, hey, they're allowed. Bang goes the fairytale.
There's nothing wrong with girls who love their fathers a lot. There is something wrong with fathers pushing their own agendas on their children.
So what have I learnt from these three programmes? Love yourself, don't have kids at 16 and don't marry the first person you snog. Oh. I knew that already.
Come back laptop, I love you.

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

America's Next Top Model- Series 10 (My Two Jays)

Now I no longer have Sky I have to get my ANTM fix via torrent (and we're a series behind in the UK, the indignity!) But I'm going to watch it in sync with the Living series and pretend. Don't ruin the magic!
ANTM seems more like groundhog day with each passing series (sorry, CYCLE, Andy!) than X Factor. The only thing that's different is the girls, but the fit their little cliche characters so nicely. They even look the same after a while. I heard there's a new judge but I haven't seen one yet. Jay is the same (silver-haired, insincere smile). Miss J is the same (the least convincing tranny in history). Tyra is the same (attention-seeking psycho). So to pretend it's different they set up some stupid school theme. Hmm, paedo heaven.
So who do we have this year... One with unusually large nostrils. 'A punk, an artist.' Paris Hilton.
Alison is The Bitch. She has Jennifer Connolly eyebrows. One who refers to herself in the Third Person. One who called herself 'crazy'. The Fat One. A tranny. A pretty Polish one. A black Paris Hilton. A girl with no clit and a sewed up labia. Eek. An anaemic tree-hugger. I liked the car one, she was a bit mental. Then they started arguing. And arguing. Oh, God, here we go again.
My pic at the mo is Amy the Mormon. You heard it here last.

News: Evil Competition- Men vs Women (Men still win)

I was interested to see the case of Joanne Hill who murdered her disabled daughter in the news. Interested because she got a minimum of fifteen years, unlike this guy (just the title of that article tells you all about who’s fault it really is, the slut of a wife, who may or may not have been having an affair- well, she was probably thinking about it, so she deserved all she got, right?) who is basically already out.
Of course men have been killing their children left, right and centre all week and last month but hey, at least they had the decency to off themselves, and oh, they’d been under such terrible strain and were such devoted fathers. The use of the words ‘devoted fathers’ when describing men like this is grotesque, by the way, newspaper editors of the world. Devoted fathers protect their children, and they certainly don’t kill them out of spite, as is so often the case in these murders (the ‘if I can’t have them, no one will’ mentality- which was not in action in the Joanne Hill case).
Of course, murder of innocent children is murder whichever way you dress it up (diminished responsibility doesn’t cover your wife having an affair in my personal opinion). But how come the 15 years minimum sentence for Joanne Hill? She was an alcoholic with a history of depression and clearly at the end of her tether. She was obviously desperate (she pleaded with her husband to get the child adopted and he said no). I’m not making excuses for her; she could have just left. But I doubt if she’s going to run off into the sunset to live happily ever after, celebrating her actions, so surely 5 years would have done, or the usual ‘life’ sentence doled out to the kind of people who kick people to death in the street for a laugh. Or how about those lovely ex-boyfriends who hunt down and kill the woman who dares live without them? Is Joanne Hill really a threat to anyone else? Is she going to be a lesson to other mothers going out of their heads, or will they just suffer alone, and maybe crack, or maybe just go on struggling, like they are meant to?
The word ‘evil’ is bandied around a lot, especially when women kill, and especially when women kill children. It is seen as totally disconnected from the norm, whereas men killing their families is as common as Monday morning. The blame is attributed elsewhere; money, society, but most of all, women. Just look at Fathers for Justice; they virtually do a eulogy for these murdering bastards.
Well, women don’t make men kill. And men kill in far, far greater numbers than women ever will, such great numbers, that the vast majority of the time, it doesn't even make the news. Until the spotlight is put back on this truism, more families will die at the hands of the men who ‘love’ them. Joanna Hill’s sentence changes nothing. The judge is out of touch. But then, what’s new?

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

Leslie Ash: Face to Face

I used to work for a cosmetic surgery chain, and every single day the first op was a repair job. Not a repair of someone's wrinkly face, or saggy boobs, but of the surgeon's botched last job, a redo. It was treated as casually as can be (as were issues of hygene and privacy, on my first day there I was shown a woman on the operating table getting her boobs cut open, and I don't think she had much of a say in it). I could have got cut-price plastic surgery, had I wanted it. I could think of few things I want less.
Never has there been a harsher lesson in vanity than for Leslie Ash. Utterly disfigured and mocked and all because of a freebie lip job (and also allegedly beaten by her husband, then hospitalised and nearly paralysed, but that's another story). I thought she came across as a very honest and emotional person in this documentary. You could see how much it was affecting her at times. It must be so horrific to be basically deformed by your own hand and for everyone to be so unsympathetic. I felt sorry for her, and I liked her.
At the fake botox party how rude was that woman saying 'my dad told me I was going to come back looking like Leslie Ash' (to Leslie Ash!) I thought she took that quite well. It is mad anyone (i.e. not a doctor) can inject cosmetic fillers; that is just plain wrong.
The guy Barrie who had plastic injected into his face and his nose nearly dropped off didn't look too bad now, but it looked horrific at the time. It must be awful to be quite vain anyway and to be that unlucky.
That injectable boob job looked quite good. I bet they deflate quite rapidly though. It'd be rubbish if you were having sex and that happened.
I can't believe someone let Leslie Ash inject their lips. Madness! That's got to be bad luck, at the very least.
Fuck me, Toyah Wilcox's facelift looked good. That would tempt even me. God, turkey neck! I'm so looking forward to getting old. Remind me not to go clothes shopping with Toyah, though, her bare-faced telling Leslie Ash she was beautiful was scarily convincing.
So, would I ever have botox? No. I have this other great solution; a fringe!
But would I say never to plastic surgery, like when I'm 50? Even though I'm a hardened feminist and believe it's what's inside that counts and all that bullshit, do I totally rule it out?
No way! Besides, in the future it'll be all painless and foolproof and stuff. Shit, I keep forgetting the future isn't light-years away- it's nearly here! (so why haven't they invented flying cars yet!?)

Wednesday, 17 September 2008

She's in Fashion: Side Ponytails

Fashion! Not my usual forte, but I've noticed the resurgence of the side ponytail in the soaps of late. I've been rocking it for one, then Nicole (aka Rex's girlfriend) had a ratty one for her eviction (not cool).
In Corrie I've spotted two, first on Fizz (always fashion forward, our Fizz) and then Becky with giant gold heart earrings. Also wearing hers with Ratners-style chav jewellery (chewellery?) was Whitney, the kiddy-fiddler's delight in Endersville. Whilst the side ponytail is not as iconically cool as the fringe, which will never go out of fashion, the good thing about it is, it's just temporary.
It also looks good on six-year-olds.
Becky in Corrie has been quite a fashion inspiration lately; looking like a gum-chewing Pepperami with a dirty-blonde wig on. Stacey in Eastenders though has a whole market stall to choose from so there's no excuse for that leopard-print binbag. Perhaps she couldn't shift it.
It was weird when Bianca came back to Enders still wearing that same silver Puffa jacket; if she couldn't hang onto six or seven men, why would she bother carting that thing from council house to council house? I fucking hate Bianca, but I digress.
I used to quite like the things Violet wore in Corrie, before she fucked off with Jamie and Sean forgot about them in 2.5 seconds. But former trend-setter Janice isn't the same since she lost a few stone and ditched that fleece with the horses on though. RIP.
PS: what is the point of that Polish woman in Corrie? She had ONE storyline where her mate died due to a trip hazard (Mario was right!) and that's IT. She's got less of a character than Tracey in Eastenders! I want to know if she's really Polish though, but I always forget to look at the end credits.
Next thing to remember: to get a life.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Bodyshock: The Girl With Two Faces

Here it is! No, not the story of some lying teenager, despite the title. Bodyshock! or Freakshow! as I like to call it.
The girl with two faces was actually a baby born in India to a very poor family. It often seems to be the case that these strange phenomenons happen to very underprivileged people. Or maybe they just need Channel 4's cash more.
It was interesting that the baby was celebrated as a goddess when she was born, over here they'd probably chuck her in the dustbin. They celebrated her difference as being special and godly, not peculiar and ugly. She didn't look that freaky, just like those sheep you sometimes see on page three of the Daily Mail.
What are the advantages to having two faces? I guess seeing through four eyes could be handy. Unfortunately she might also be 'in two minds' (crap puns r us). It's not too healthy to have two faces so she needed an op to see exactly what she did or didn't have two of.
Before this could happen, however, she became gravely ill, due to being malnourished. Then the family faffed around instead of admitting her to hospital and she became close to death. She started to improve but then died of a massive heart attack. Oh.
I suppose it's better in a way. It wouldn't have been easy to grow up like that. The families' grief was no less real though. The priest refusing to do the funeral because they were of a lower caste than him was gross.
This freakshow was alright, but I prefer the adult freaks, as you get more of a personal angle. Until next time...

Sunday, 14 September 2008

Sunday Afternoon Listening

So since TV is dead to me, I downloaded a couple of albums to listen to. Disclaimer: I'm not reviewing these properly, just giving vague, mildly offensive sweeping statements. Firstly, Jenny Lewis's album Acid Tongue. I was quite hopeful after the first song but then it went downhill rapidly. Don't get me wrong, it's not as bad as the last Rilo Kiley album (or was that her solo? I've forgotten and can't be arsed to check my facts if she can't be arsed to write good songs anymore). But does the world need another song called Fernando? Not this one they don't. I actually miss the country music. Weird. The song 'Godspeed' was alright, like a sub-par Rilo Kiley song. But that is faint praise indeed. The song 'carpetbagger' was particularly objectional; especially as I thought it was something rude and it turned out to be something boring (and that bloke's singing on it was dire). So yeah, don't bother with that.
Next I decided to have a go at The Streets new album Everything is Borrowed. Look's like Mike Skinner got a new Casio keyboard for Christmas! The lyrics seemed lazy, and the tempo seemed very similar from song to song. I only really like two Streets songs, Turn the Page & Blinded by the Light. I still only like those two. His videos can be quite funny though, but then so can any old shit. Pass!
PS: TV is not dead to me. We're just squabbling. In fact Eastenders was dead good the other night, with Bianca's husband and her daughter and stuff. I even got a laugh or two out of the X Factor.

Thursday, 11 September 2008

Bedsit TV

PS: It's not a bedsit, it's a studio.

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Big Brother 9: Final Thoughts

Through sheer determination, I managed to avoid the BB result for the whole time I was away. Or maybe because it was Rachel no one cared. Or maybe BB has had it’s day. But either way, I studiously avoided newspapers (not easy coming back on the tube littered with London Lites) fully expecting a Rex or Mikey win.
By the way, I hate the last episode where they are all nice and charming and funny and you start thinking ‘oh, maybe they are not so bad after all.’ I want to hate until the end!
So, onto the final, which no one cares about anymore. It was probably the most anti-climatic final ever, especially with Darnell and Rex coming out first. Sure, it was a triumph of good over evil, but it was also a triumph of dullness. My predictions were as follows, Rachel, Darnell, Sara, Mikey, Rex. So I was pretty off. I just can’t BELIEVE so many people voted for Rachel to win? It doesn’t make sense that people would pick up the phone for her. But then the choices WERE crap. It was quite telling the winner got booed.
Darnell’s exit was quirky at least, I liked the pony and the fact he was wearing a bath-towel and a skirt. But what’s with wearing the same tops they went in in (Mikey/ Darnell)? Lazy! I was quite disappointed with the interview (so what’s new?) and Darnell’s Oprah-Winfrey style ‘thank you for accepting me’ rubbish. He didn’t seem to miffed to go out in 5th though. At least he beat Kat, hey?
Rex! Not as popular as I thought (or he did). Those misguided trousers were beyond parody, they were proper David-Bowie-in-Labyrinth style. And the Chris Martin coat! What a cock. His posing as he came out to a wall of boos was just embarrassing. Strike a pose Rex, you arrogant gimp. Now piss off. He was utterly unrepentant and Davina didn’t even start on him, she just showed him clips of his tyranny like it was a big joke. I’m annoyed he didn’t get his comeuppance. Also, Rex, are you bumming your own dad? Eww.
Sara; third. She looked stunning, she sounded annoying. I was disgusted that Davina seemed to think flirting deserved more of a grilling than rampant misogany and continued bullying. Davina, you are ‘sending out the wrong signals’ in your revolting choices of dress. Who are you to decide what signals are right or wrong? Sexist cunt.
Rachels’ face was a picture when she won, but her ‘best bits’ were about two seconds long. Mikey was more fun as an interviewee, and I enjoyed him bringing up she-who-must-not-be-named Alex (or Alec, as he seemed to think she was called). The vote was SO close. I think it says a lot about how we as viewers were this year; fundamentally split or indifferent. Wanting anyone to win who the housemates didn't suspect.
I was pleased that Rachel didn’t back down as Davina even had a go at her, and good for her for saying ‘I know who I am.’ I don’t think a lot of people in their 20s could say the same.
I liked seeing the old housemates (what, no Dennis or Alex? Shame!) especially Luke and Bex; Luke rubbing his fingers together in the international gesture for ‘grasping money grabber’ at Rachel was brilliant! No backing down from him!
I liked the round-up of the series at the end, even in a bad year like this it makes you realise why you still watch. It’s like a little bit of your life somehow. It becomes part of your memory whether you like it or not.
Will Davina be back next year? Will there be a Celeb BB? Will BBLB get canned? Who knows. But at least I can get back to writing about the latest dwarf documentary or indie CD no one likes. And I can catch up on BBUSA which I’m criminally behind on.
Will I miss our BB? This year… I actually won’t. Would I miss it if it never came back? Loads.

Wednesday, 3 September 2008

Big Brother 9: I swear on my mother's life; I love you

So NOW I understand what the afros were about!
Darnell. You were so OFF the money with your bigging up of Mo and Kat. How dare you tell Sara who she wants to win, or that her reason isn't good enough. Dickhead. His speech to Mikey doing both him and Sara down was horrible and in bad taste.
I liked them dressing up as each other, it was a good reality check for them (another good task- shock!) If it were me in there I'm sure I'd be annoyed as everyone went 'Morrissey! Bright Eyes! Crisps!' for an hour. It'd be cheaper than weeks of therapy.
Mikey in particular had his finger on the pulse as ever. Is it offensive to 'white up' your face whilst impersonating Darnell? Also; Darnell love, you could have a wife and kid if you stopped being such a whiny cunt.
Mikey impersonations! Scottish accents- shaky. Mikey rolling on the grass laughing; class.
The Rex wig was a touch! Where did they get those from? Rex looked mega uncomfortable as everyone did monotone, materialistic impersonations of him. Ha!
It's no surprise that Rachel's impersonation wound up with her being routinely insulted.
It was kind of ironic that Mo got evicted whilst they were all dressed as him. And Meatloaf his favourite song!? What? (by the way, what is it Meatloaf won't do for love, I always thought anal or watersports but he's probably so selfish it's oral or give his girlfriend an orgasm) I actually really liked Darnell's anger at Mo being evicted, it reminded me of when he got so angry about spitgate about a zillion years ago, back when he had a hope of winning.
Rex looked genuinely shocked when they said Kat's name, then smirked two seconds later! What a bastard! I loved it though.
That group hug was moving!!! I forgot I hated their guts for half a second then. Rachel; even earner herself a one-on-one hug with Rex! You'll pay for that later.
Darnell! Don't be so sure you're not hated. It's who we hate LEAST at this point.
NB. at what point that night would you have taken your Mo afro off? I would have taken it off the SECOND Davina rolled up.
(oh and I'm going away this weekend for a long weekend so no BB blogging! BUT I will sum up on my return. Enjoy it. Mwah!)