Tuesday, April 29, 2008

In With the News?

Well, thank you very much for assuming that I'm a complete idiot. Obviously, I'd never have guessed that the news programme I was watching was part of BBC News' output before that re-branding which imposed uniform graphics and title sequences on all of the channel's news programmes, both national and local. I mean, I'd spent years watching my local news programme at six thirty every evening, never realising that it was a BBC production. OK, I know that the fact that I was watching BBC One might been a clue, but really, I needed it spelt out to me. Anyway, that's my objection to the BBC News rebranding, apart from the patronising assumptions behind it, I really couldn't care much about it one way or the other. However, plenty of other people seem to have got quite worked up about it, if I'm to believe the letters columns in newspapers and the like.

Most of these objections were the usual knee-jerk reaction from conservative viewers which accompany any changes to schedules, theme music, channel idents or news readers' ties. But amongst all these trivial gripes were some real criticisms. It appears that the new logo, featuring spinning concentric rings and a globe, made some viewers dizzy. Yes, that's right, it made them dizzy. Allegedly. Don't you just hate it when people make such claims? They can't think of any substantive criticism, so they say something ludicrous like that. Why? If they simply don't like the new logos, just bloody day so, don't make up some far-fetched medical condition to try and justify yourself. Have the courage of your own convictions! Otherwise, stop bloody whining! It is all people in this country seem to do any more, and I'm sick of it! Bloody idiots!

Labels: , ,

Monday, April 28, 2008

The Bottom Line

Arses - philistines will argue that they have only two uses - either you sit on ‘em or shit out of ‘em. However, the more sophisticated amongst us know that the bottom is something truly special. Which of us, both male and female, hasn’t admired a shapely backside in motion? And who of us hasn’t secretly harboured fantasies about giving those lovely cheeks a damn good thrashing? Even manly Clint Eastwood is susceptible to these urges, as witnessed in a scene cut from the final print of US Marine drama Heartbreak Ridge (but restored in the recent DVD release), where his tough training sergeant gives a talk to his young recruits. “Marine’s bottoms”, he rasps as he prowls up and down their ranks. “We all know where they are and what they’re for. There’s nothing like taking those two rosy cheeks and squeezing them into one.....”

Of course, there is much debate amongst bottom aficionados as to exactly what the perfectly spankable bottom looks like. Is it the petite yet well-rounded type sported by the likes of Kylie Minogue, or perhaps the firmer, more muscular type seen on athletes - tennis player Maria Sharapova springs to mind - is the perfect type? There is also a strong case to be made for the broader, yet well-shaped, bottom. The one thing all aficionados agree on , however, is that there is no place for the skinny flat-arse (of either gender), in this debate. Personally, I can only speak from a male perspective when I say that I favour the broader beam. I feel that the greater surface area gives far more scope for imaginative spanking. That’s not to say that I like fat, lardy arses. I’m afraid that these are totally unsuitable for spanking. A degree of firmness is required for best effect. Yes indeed, there’s nothing like putting a broad-yet-firm-bottomed lady across your knee and beating those cheeks like bongo drums.

The question also arises as to whether you favour bare-arsed or clothed spankings, or whether you use the naked palm or advocate the employment of instruments such as canes, straps, paddles or hair-brushes. All of which brings us, finally, to the point of this post - who do you think has the most spankable bottom? Guys, is it pert-bottomed Kylie Minogue you’d like to bend across your knee, or would you rather beat out a rhythm on Drew Barrymore’s broader posterior? Maybe Gwyneth Paltrow’s behind does it for you. Or is it the sublime wiggling buttocks of sultry Latino beauty Jennifer Lopez? Not wishing to be sexist, we’d also like to hear from the ladies - do you favour Mel Gibson’s notoriously hairy arse or do you prefer the smooth buttocks of Matt Damon? Does age make a difference? Would you prefer to thrash Sean Connery’s leathery old buttocks red raw, or prefer the soft, creamy and virginal cheeks of Ben Affleck? So, just tell your top three spankable bottoms - if your choices match mine you could win a fabulous monkey picture! (Actually, please don't send me your arse preferences, there is no competition, this is just a joke.)


Friday, April 25, 2008

Who's the Daddy?

With Wesley Snipes facing three years in the slammer for tax evasion, I thought perhaps it might be an opportune time to pose the question - 'Who's the Daddy?' As I'm sure you all know, the term originates with male prison inmates, the 'daddy' being the one 'on top' in any meaningful behind bars relationship. Now, I did consider exploring which celebrity jailbirds might have been the 'daddy' whilst inside. (Amongst politicians Jeffrey Archer’s public school experiences would undoubtedly put him in a good position, whilst Jonathan Aitkin seems a definite submissive. From the acting fraternity, cheeky Johnny Vaughn’s schoolboy japester persona would undoubtedly guarantee him a lower berth, Stephen Fry is, without question, a bitch, whilst Hollywood hard man and sometime Mike Hammer impersonator Stacy Keach - with or without his hairpiece - is a daddy if ever we saw one). However, the potential for libel actions seemed far too high. Instead, I thought we'd try to get to the bottom (quite literally, in fact) of the mystery which has perplexed prison inmates throughout the ages - which readily available household object gives the greatest satisfaction when inserted into one's jacksie.

Bottles are (according to my sources) the most popular and accessible anal accessories. But is there any one type of bottle that is favoured above all others? Whilst Grolsch might be the 'daddy' amongst beers, it definitely isn’t rated too highly by convicts - that elaborate stopper with all the wire around it has the potential to cause serious damage to even the most hardened of bottoms. In fact, beer bottles generally are considered unsatisfactory - the stubbies favoured by cheap supermarket brands are apparently too short, whilst the standard 330ml-400ml types are generally considered to be far too bland and uninteresting. Soft drink bottles are a better proposition, with the old-style glass coke bottle coming very highly rated - those curves and that slender neck make for a great rear-end experience. However, beware those new-fangled plastic bottles - they can easily warp and collapse when you least expect it. Sauce bottles also come highly recommended - none other than Reggie Kray himself was said to favour a regular squeeze of brown sauce with his breakfast. Spray cans are allegedly the most popular alternative to bottles, with Pledge cleaning spray being very popular, although its smooth and regular sides mean that it can be very difficult to extricate. Obviously, the lid should be left on when utilising these cans, in order to avoid serious damage. Naked flames should also be avoided (particularly when butane cans used for refilling lighters are being used), in order to minimise the risk of serious burns or even explosions. In the absence of bottles or cans, inmates can always fall back on those old favourites of fruit and vegetables - there’s no beating a good cucumber or carrot (so I’m told).

So, what do you think is tops when it comes to penal sex games? Are Daddy’s sauce bottles the 'daddy', or does HP have the edge? Brown sauce or Tomato Ketchup? Carlsberg or Grolsch? Coke or Pepsi? Tell you what, send me your top ten, in order of preference and I'll compare it with the top ten compiled by our panel of celebrity jailbird judges (which includes Lester Piggot, Mike Tyson and Gary Glitter). If it matches their choices you could win a fabulous prize (but probably not). In the unlikely event of dead heat, successful contestants will have to correctly answer the following tie-breaker in order to select a winner: In which film does Ben Affleck take it up the Khyber? Good luck!

(Actually, please don't send me any such lists - there is no competition, it's just a joke).

Labels: ,

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Last Refuge of a Scoundrel...

So, did you have a good St George's Day yesterday? Waved a flag? Attended a parade? Painted your face to look like a twat? This country's sudden apparent obsession with displays of 'Englishness' are something I just don't understand.. I'm afraid that I'm always very wary of these displays of so-called 'patriotism'. Loving your country has nothing to do with conspicuous displays of national symbols and uniform fetishes. It has more to do with trying to preserve those things about our national culture which are great - justice, freedom of speech, civil liberties, democracy. All of which seem to be under ever-increasing threat from the very people who are fuelling these calls for 'patriotism'. When it comes to the latter, I find that I tend to agree with Johnson, that it is "the last refuge of a scoundrel". Beware the politicians who seek to hide behind nationalism.

Part of why I don't understand this new English nationalism is that I've never felt the need to identify myself purely in terms of my nationality. Like so many of the other factors used to define us - race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, to name a few - nationality is simply an accident of birth. Something over which we have no control - so why make it so significant when building a sense of identity? Personally, I've always felt secure enough in my own identity not to feel the need to submerge myself in some greater identity, whether it be racial, national or whatever. But then, I'm one of those dangerous loners who doesn't have some overriding desire to 'belong'. You know, exactly the sort of person the authorities and media in this country increasingly seem to try and characterise as 'dangerous', 'weird' even 'unpatriotic'...

Labels: , ,

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Kung Fu Fighting for Tibet

Speaking of spiritual leaders, there's one thing about the whole Tibet situation which puzzles me. Why doesn't the Dalai Lama use his powers to rid his homeland of the yoke of Chinese occupation? After all, unless various martial arts movies and the Kung Fu TV series have lied to me, I was under the impression that all Buddhist priests were possessed of amazing powers. Ever since the recent unrest began, I 've been looking forward to seeing live footage of the Dalai Lama levitating, cross-legged, into Tibet, defying Chinese troops as he floats above them, smiling benignly as he uses his mental powers to tie their gun barrels into knots and turn their bullets into flowers. I mean, not only would that have a devastating psychological affect on the Chinese - undoubtedly frightening the shit out of them - but it would also be a highly effective demonstration of Buddhism's principles of non-violence in action. So, why hasn't he done it? I find his inaction perplexing. Maybe he's read the X-Men comics and fears some kind of anti-mutant backlash if he reveals his powers. But to hell with that, I say! Your people are in dire need of your help!

OK, I know it is just possible that those films have slightly exaggerated the powers of these holy guys - perhaps he can't actually fly or bend metal with his mind. But things like Kung Fu make clear that, at the very least, they have amazing martial arts skills. Whilst it wouldn't be as spectacular as flying into Tibet, launching a one-man invasion and single-handedly kicking the asses of the entire Red Army would surely send a clear and unequivocal message to Beijing. It's not as if he'd have to worry about the fact they have guns - I've seen these guys use their finely honed reflexes to dodge bullets, before disarming the man holding the gun. Again, as the kind of martial arts I've seen them using always seem to be non-fatal, it would still preserve Buddhism's essential principles. But again, the Dalai Lama doesn't even do this. Instead, he just calls on the international community to condemn the Chinese occupation of Tibet. Maybe I'm being unfair to him. Maybe he's holding fire until the Beijing Olympics this Summer, when he'll disrupt the opening ceremony, swooping over the opening ceremony in the lotus position, before alighting, kicking the shit out of the Chinese team and blowing out the Olympic flame. I certainly hop that's what he's planning, anyway.

Labels: ,

Monday, April 21, 2008

Sex and the Single Pope

Getting back to Max Mosley and his allegedly Nazi-themed sex dungeon, the whole sordid affair made me wonder what the sex fantasies the rich and famous might have. Does George W Bush, for instance, fantasize about riding astride a ballistic missile bearing down on some lovely cheer leader, in order to get his booze and drug raddled penis up to even half mast? Does Gordon Brown imagine counting money on the naked body of a beautiful super model? Most intriguingly, what turns the Pope on? Now, one might imagine that cavorting nuns might come into it, or perhaps even the odd angel taking him skyward for some heavenly bliss. Maybe he likes to imagine he's hanging on that cross, naked, and being abused by Roman soldiers. However, bearing in mind the current incumbent's history with the Hitler Youth, perhaps he inclines more toward the Max Mosley school of sexual stimulation. Maybe he likes to imagine being spanked by Nuns with swastikas, or perhaps he likes to imagine he's the SS Sex Camp Commandant oppressing those naughty nuns who've been helping those pesky Jews escape...

Now, I know what you're thinking, that the Pope is beyond the sins of the flesh, existing on a higher spiritual level. Oh, please! You'll never convince me that he doesn't have to relieve his sexual tension just like the rest of us. Indeed, his official outfit is clearly designed to allow him to have a sly one off the wrist whilst performing his official duties. Take that cassock - has there ever been an item of male accoutrement more obviously designed to allow one to surreptitiously have a wank under its folds, whilst preaching to a congregation? And that hat! Can a mitre have any purpose other than to disguise a huge bonk on when held on one's lap? I rest my case - even Pope's get horny. And I guarantee that this particular Pope has masturbatory fantasies about Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS. It's either that or have a gang bang with those nuns...


Thursday, April 17, 2008

Crap News Reporting

Is it just me, or are journalistic standards in this country in serious decline? Take my local newspaper - any of them, I get three, two free sheets and the 'official' local paper, which has three editions a week (two paid for, one free - I only bother with the free one). They're all shit. Full of stories about duck ponds running dry in the Summer and people haranguing the council because their neighbour parks his kebab van on the street outside their house, blocking their view of yet more houses. They never go out and chase stories, they seem to think they'll just walk into the newsroom of their own accord, and when they do get a good story, they never follow it up properly. I'll give you an example. There's this argument going on about this church in a nearby village, apparently it's life expired, only open once a millenia and attended by two people and a dog. Not surprisingly, the local diocese wants to demolish it. Some of the local community object and have started a campaign to save it. If we're to believe the local press, a 'fierce' row has erupted between the local vicar (who wants it demolished) and the campaigners. So far, so standard local newspaper fare. But here's where it gets interesting. Allegedly, a notice making various unspecified allegations against the vicar was stuck on the church door - with excrement.

Now, I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty unusual. Indeed, it raises all sorts of questions - most obviously, why did the poster use excrement? Did he forget to take any drawing pins or blu-tack with him? I mean, there's nothing more frustrating after you've carefully created such a document, travelling all the way to a church and then finding you've got no means of pinning it up. But then that begs another question - did take a dump specially, there and then, just to stick his notice up, or did he use a piece of dog crap he found near by? Alternatively, did he take some crap he'd 'prepared earlier' along with him for the express purpose of putting up his notice? Needless to say, the local newspaper failed to raise any of these questions, let alone try to answer them. Really, whatever happened to investigative journalism? These are vital issues which could tell us much about the state of mind of this individual. I feel that the newspaper has completely failed in its obligations to the reading public with regard to this matter. And while we're on the subject - just what were those allegations against the vicar? That he ate shit? Sadly, we'll never know, as the entire story seems to have fizzled out, the paper having lost interest. Of course, if it had bothered reporting it properly in the first place...

Labels: ,

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

True Lies

The time has come for us to enter the political fray and try and even up the odds. I'm talking, of course, about the upcoming Mayoral election in London and the disproportionate amount of anti-Ken Livingstone propaganda being pumped out by the Evening Standard. It really is a disgrace that London's only daily paper should be behaving in such a partisan manner, trying to swing the election for that buffoon Boris Johnson. Whilst I can't claim to have anything like the Standard's circulation, I can at least try to do the same for Johnson that they're trying to do to Ken. So, let's be frank - if you Londoners are stupid enough to elect Johnson then you might as well start evacuating the city now. Trust me, within months of that cretin taking power the Thames will be clogged with excrement, you'll be choking with pollution from his fucking fifty year old Routemaster buses, and the dead will be piling up in the streets. I'm not joking. That fat git, with his references to 'picanninies' and the like, will probably instigate a race war so ferocious that martial law will have to be introduced and people shot in the streets. Refugees will be piling onto trains and buses in an attempt to escape the mayhem. Sadly, as the blustering twat will have alienated every other city and region in Britain with his crass comments, nobody will be willing to take them or give aid to the stricken city. Consequently, you'll all be forced to eat your own pets in order to survive when the food supplies run out.

Worried yet? No? Then you must be even stupider than I thought. Would you still be so keen to vote for him if I was to tell you that Boris Johnson is actually a Nazi? OK then. He and his public school cronies like nothing better than dressing up in SS uniforms and strutting about a replica concentration camp at weekends. In fact, he once went on a 'Genocide Break' to the Baltic States where he was allowed to gas several hundred local Jews. Furthermore, if he wins the election he plans to institute a policy of ethnic cleansing in London, in order to make it safe for decent privileged folk like him. Believe me, once he's in office non-white Londoners will find themselves being herded onto tube trains and gassed with carbon monoxide pumped into the tunnels from the exhaust pipes of Routemaster buses. What else can I tell you? If he's elected, lock up your pets and livestock as Boris likes nothing better than to bugger anything with four legs. He regularly exposes himself to members of the clergy on the top decks of buses (preferably Routemasters). Alright, alright, I know that none of this is true, it's all fabricated, but so is the shit Andrew Gilligan is coming out with in the Standard to try and discredit Livingstone. (Indeed, one can only assume that Gilligan's scoop for the BBC about the 'dodgy dossier' et al in the run up to the war in Iraq was a fluke, as he's now revealed himself as as a right wing hack of the worst kind. ) Besides, it's OK for me to say all those things as they're just a joke - just like all the offensive things Johnson has come out with are acceptable because they were said in jest. So, are you laughing yet? You should be - it's fucking hilarious. Almost as hilarious as the thought of some talentless public school tosser who owes his entire 'success' to privilege and the old boy network, being elected Mayor of London. But what should I care - I don't live in London. Then again, neither does Boris.


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

True Confessions

Ever done something so terrible, so reprehensible, that it has gnawed away at your conscience for years? You know the sort of thing - a terrible injustice you perpetrated against someone which has kept you awake at nights for years? The kind of thing which you know that you just have to confess if you are ever to find any kind of peace. Well that's not what I'm going to tell you about today. Having said that, what I am going to reveal does involve an act which some might consider foul and depraved, Not that I've ever lost any sleep over it myself. Anyway, getting to the point - have you ever encountered a piece of regular behaviour on someone's part that, for no discernible reason, intensely irritated you? Well, that's the situation I found myself in many years ago at a certain University. Now, my bowels are pretty regular, so most days that I was working in the library I'd find myself in the toilets at around the same time, (these were the new toilets, you understand, not the old ones which had some magnificent graffiti on the walls. But that's another story). Well, every day, around the same time, this bloke would come in, go to the cubicle next to the one I was just coming out of, roll down the toilet roll and blow his nose on it.

Now, God knows why, but I found this incredibly annoying. I know, there's no earthly reason why it should have annoyed me, but it did. I mean, I didn't even know the guy. But, for some unfathomable reason, it really got to me. Eventually, I came up with a plan to get back at him. It was incredibly simple. Basically, I got to the toilet early, went into the cubicle he always blew his nose in, took my regular dump, unrolled a length of paper, but didn't tear it off, wiped my arse on it, then rolled it back, so that the smear wasn't visible. I then vacated the cubicle, with the intention of hiding in my usual cubicle and coming out just as he blew his nose. However, my nerve went and I legged it before he arrived. Consequently, I can only imagine his reaction when he looked down at his toilet tissue snot rag to find it stained with shit. All I know is that he didn't do his nose-blowing schtick again, at least not when I was in the toilet. I'd like to think that he hurried off to see a doctor, convinced that he'd suffered some bizarre form of internal prolapse. So, am I ashamed of what I did? Quite frankly, no. I'm only sharing it with you now because something reminded me of it the other day and I laughed so much at the memory I nearly shat myself. I could put it down to the alcohol-fuelled recklessness of undergraduate life. Except that I was a post-graduate student at the time. And stone cold sober. Would I do it again? Quite possibly, if someone irritated me enough. So, be careful what you blow your nose on.

Labels: ,

Monday, April 14, 2008

The Who-mour Mill

I feel like starting some more rumours. There's nothing quite so satisfying as starting off a rumour only to have it repeated back to you as fact a few weeks later. With Dr Who back on the air the time is surely ripe for me to manufacture some disinformation on the subject. How about this, for starters: Stephen Hawking is to appear in the series finale as Davros, evil creator of the Daleks. It's almost credible. After all, fellow celebrity scientist Richard Dawkins is to appear in an episode playing himself, so it is entirely credible that Hawking might want to go one better. After all, playing Davros would not only show the power of science to master the world, but would also provide an opportunity to demonstrate that serious disability is no bar to galactic domination. Davros surely has to be the most successful wheelchair-user in fiction - he created an evil master race that terrorised the galaxy and destroyed Gallifrey, home of the Timelords, not once, but twice. (He created a second army of Daleks after the first lot rebelled against under the Dalek Supreme).

For good measure, I could also claim that, at the series' climax, David Tennant will be forced to regenerate (actually, you have my brother to thank for this one). Having seen off the threat of Davros and the Daleks and saved the galaxy once more, the Doctor decides to celebrate at a Cardiff curry house. Reckless as ever, he engages in a bit of hubris and orders the hottest curry on the menu. Despite downing several pints of Tiger lager, the Doctor finds himself seriously over heating and is forced to regenerate into Sanjeev Bashkhar or Jimi Mistry. Actually, the latter would be slightly more credible - he isn't doing much at the moment but still has a bit of an international profile. An Anglo-Asian Doctor would fit neatly with the BBC's policies on representing cultural diversity on screen. It would be great to get that one running - you could just see the likes of the Daily Mail picking it up and bellowing about 'political correctness gone mad!'. Brilliant!


Thursday, April 10, 2008

Unacceptable Behaviour?

Formula 1 chief Max Mosley has denied that his much-publicised orgy in a Chelsea 'torture dungeon' wasn't Nazi-themed. Well, thank God for that! It was just a regular S&M session - that's OK then! Is this to be the new standard in public life? You can indulge in any kind of behaviour you like, just so long as it isn't linked to any form of political extremism. I guess that means my regular Friday night session in that replica of bin Laden's cave are out. Of course, it does the beg the question of what fantasy scenarios would be acceptable to use in sex games. How about getting the girls to dress up as US soldiers and re-enact scenes from the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, with you as a prisoner? Or maybe even a Guantanamo Bay scenario, with prison guards subjecting you to 'water-boarding' and other favoured CIA tortures (sorry, interrogation techniques)? Obviously, the main objection to such things would be that the events which inspired them are recent enough for there to be surviving victims, and such behaviour would be inappropriate, disrespectful and insensitive. So, presumably, if Max Mosley had re-enacted the Spanish Inquisition, that would have been OK. The actual events are safely in the long distant past, with no survivors to remind us of how horrific they actually were.

But there are plenty of fantasy sex scenarios which most people (including, probably, the News of the World, which broke the Mosley story), would say were perfectly harmless, which, on closer examination, are actually pretty dubious. Take those 'schoolgirl' scenarios, with girls in pigtails dressed in school 'uniforms' being spanked and caned by the 'master'? Just a bit of harmless fun? Perhaps. But doesn't the whole scenario have just the slightest whiff of paedophilia about it? And how about those dominatrix scenarios with some Ann Robinson-type treating the man like a naughty kid? Child abuse, perhaps? Of course, it could be argued that as long as these things go on in private, between consenting adults, what harm is being done? Well, fair enough. Except that they surely tell us something about the mind-set of those who derive pleasure from such scenarios - I ask you, what sort of man would want to spank schoolgirls? Now, in Max Mosley's case, perhaps there wasn't a Nazi theme, but we're still left with the question of what sort of person would want to be beaten and humiliated in order to get a sexual thrill? And would you want them in a position of authority?

Labels: ,

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

A Cock of the First Order

As a general rule, I really hate those online petitions which disgruntled listeners/viewers set up to try and get radio or TV presenters they don't like removed from the airwaves. Such things smack of narrow minded middle class prejudice - their target is often someone deemed 'unsuitable' because they have a regional accent, or long hair, or wear striped shirts. At best these things are exercises in snobbery, at worst they are no better than campaigns of bullying. Moreover, the organisers are rarely representative of the general viewing/listening audience, and no matter how much support they garner for their campaign, such numbers are inevitably insignificant compared to the millions who watch/listen to the object of their bile without complaint. Recently, I became aware of such a campaign, aimed at getting someone called George Lamb removed from BBC Radio 6 Music's mid-morning slot. Judging by their public proclamations the organisers sounded like the usual middle class moaners, unhappy that someone had changed the schedules of 'their' radio station without consulting them, replacing some nice middle class presenter with someone less 'refined'. Now, I'd never heard this George Lamb, so I decided to give him a listen - after all, I thought, if he's pissing these tossers off, he surely can't be all bad. Having now listened to him, I can conclusively say that he is a cock of the first order and that the petitioners have got it right.

George Lamb is one of those irritating middle class tossers who thinks that by talking 'street' he can somehow gain some kind of credibility. In reality, it just makes him sound, at best, like a complete twat, at worst, a drooling idiot. It's like listening to Westwood with a lobotomy - and he already sounds like a stroke victim. Actually - and I never thought that I'd find myself saying this - that comparison is grossly unfair to Tim Westwood. At least he seems to have some inkling of how ludicrous he sounds. Lamb seems to take himself completely seriously. But then Lamb comes from a generation of 'youth' presenters (he also works for the T4 youth strand of Channel 4) who seem to believe that 'getting down with the kids' requires them to speak like idiots, act in a fashion they consider 'ironic', whilst all the time making sure that nobody is in any doubt how superior to their audience they really are. Indeed, all that these types are interested in is stroking their own egos - they don't talk to their audience, so much as relentlessly try and ram home to listeners and viewers how wonderful they are and how lucky we should all consider ourselves that they deign to 'entertain' us. Sadly, broadcasting chiefs seem mesmerised by these tossers - possibly because they're middle-aged, middle class tossers themselves, who haven't a clue about real youth culture.

Jesus, I'm getting old and curmudgeonly! Next thing you know I'll be writing to Feedback on Radio 4!

Labels: ,

Monday, April 07, 2008

Terminal Delays

Why is the government spending millions of pounds fighting alleged terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq? Why do they waste yet more money ramping up security at airports, stations and the underground so as to avoid terror attacks causing travel chaos? The past week or so has made it abundantly plain that all they had to do was arrest the combined managements of British Airways (BA) and the British Airports Authority (BAA). Judging by the chaos surrounding Heathrow's new Terminal 5, these two organisations are clearly in the pay of Al Qaeda to create travel chaos. Threatening to blow up an airliner flying from Heathrow wouldn't have been any more disruptive. Actually, to digress slightly, I remember the time when making an anonymous call to the authorities claiming that there was a bomb on your flight, was an accepable way of ensuring that you didn't miss your plane when you'd been delayed on the way to the airport. These days, of course, they'd trace the call and you'd find yourself looking down the end of a sub-machine gun before being banged up in Belmarsh before being extraordinarily rendered to an East European jail to be tortured for information by the CIA's protegees.

Obviously, there's no chance of any BA or BAA executives having their nipples wired up to the Azerbaijani National Grid - they didn't perpetrate any bomb hoaxes. They just buggered up the baggage handling system by implementing an untested and clearly faulty mechanised system. Whilst this was undoubtedly motivated by the desire to cut costs, it is hard to see how significant savings could be made by replacing poorly paid baggage handlers with a multi-million pound computer controlled mechanical system. Mind you, the problem could be that they've tried to emulate the human handlers they're replacing too perfectly. As I understand it, it is the automatic luggage pilfering module which is causing all the problems. The mechanical hands they use to open up and go through passengers' baggage in search of valuables are far too complicated and are always breaking down. Consequently, a backlog of non-pilfered luggage has built up. There's a very real danger that an unacceptably high percentage of passengers could receive their baggage with all their valuables intact. That's why they've been forced to bring human baggage handlers in on their days off to try and rectify the error, and even send some luggage to Italy for pilfering. It's a sad state of affairs when we have to out source this kind of thing.


Sunday, April 06, 2008

Groping for Freedom

I should be ashamed of myself, I know. I spout all this bollocks about human rights and the like, but do I actually do anything about it? Where, for instance, was I today, during the anti-China protests as the Olympic torch was carried through London? Was I on the route, ready to pounce on the celebrity flame-bearers? No, I was lying in bed, looking out of the window and watching the snow fall. I sincerely regret not being at that protest, especially after seeing the news coverage. If only I'd been there, I too could have had a chance to grope former Blue Peter presenter Konnie Huq on the pretext of making a pro-democracy protest.

Let's face it, that's what was really going on there, wasn't it? I mean, you didn't see any of those protesters trying to tackle the likes of Olympic rowing gold medallist Steve Redgrave, now did you? Of course not! So there you have it, some bloke gets to cop a feel of Konnie Huq, and become some kind of hero to the protest movement to boot, whilst I'm left to rue how my laziness led me to miss the opportunity to indulge in some quality celebrity groping. That'll teach me not to be so bloody passive in future! Up the revolution - and some celebrity skirts!

Labels: ,

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Double Fantasy

People never believe me when I tell them that a lot of research goes into the stories I write for The Sleaze. But it's true. Many stories have incredibly long gestation periods due to the amount of research they require. Take Double Exposure which has just gone up on The Sleaze, for instance. This was originally going to be a simple re-write of an older story I'd never bothered archiving. However, when I re-read the story in question, I hated it. Nevertheless, I still liked the basic idea of celebrities being replaced with doubles, so I decided to write a whole new story on the same theme. What interested me was the way in which many fans felt that they knew their idols so well that they could tell when the latter had been replaced. So, I've spent a lot of time over the past few months hanging around the message boards of various celebrities' web sites.

What I found proved to be quite an eye-opener. What surprised me most was how hostile many of these 'fans' became toward their idols when the celebrity in question failed to fulfil their expectations. Based entirely upon media reports and appearances, these fans had built up an image of their idol so complex that they believed they could predict the celebrity's every move and how they would react in any particular situation. When the celebrity inevitably did something which fell outside of these expectations, the fans became angry and frustrated. This 'aberrant' behaviour could take the form of actions in the celebrity's personal life - 'unsuitable' romantic liaisons, getting drunk, expressing unexpected opinions, for instance - or professional decisions - changes in musical direction, 'unwise' collaborations, sacking popular managers or collaborators. If these 'aberrations' continue for any length of time, you find these fans trying to explain this 'inexplicable' and 'out of character' behaviour in terms of drug or alcohol abuse, religious influences, evil Svengali-type figures (including unpopular spouses). Ultimately, there are a hard core of fans who start to believe that the celebrity is, quite literally, no longer themselves. They have been replaced.

Of course, the reality is that obsessive fans have unrealistic expectations of public figures. They feel that they 'own' them, and that they are, by virtue of buying their CDs or watching their films, a collaborator in their success. The reality, of course, is that celebrities are simply human beings. They have lives of their own, away from their public personas. They fall in love, get married, have children, change career, join clubs, take up hobbies - all without consulting their fans. But that's what some 'fans' can't accept - that their idols are allowed to have their own lives. So when they frustrate the fans' expectations, they must have become some evil doppelganger.

Labels: , ,

Blogger is Still Shit

Thank you very fucking much. I've just lost an entire post. This despite the fact that it was supposedly being automatically updated and saved. When I tried to publish, I was re-directed to the login screen (despite being loogged in - how else could I be writing a post?), once I logged ion, the post was gone. I really thought we'd seen an end to this shit.

Thank you very much Blogger for wasting an hour of my life. Wankers.


Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Ha, Bloody, Ha

Well, how many of those hilarious April Fool's Day japes did you fall for this year? The media are usually full of tales of trees growing spaghetti, Yeti being captured, Heathrow's Terminal Five running smoothly and the like. The trouble is that they're all so contrived and tiresome. The fact that there's no build up to them which makes them so obvious. Now, someone who clearly knows how to perpetrate a really great April Fool's gag is Robert Mugabe. He's kept up this free election nonsense going for months now. He's had everyone damn near convinced that he might actually allow free elections and abide by their result. The comic master stroke was actually letting them take place, without too much obvious rigging - that really had everyone going. Then he effectively shouts "April Fools" and doesn't release the results! Most amusing! Actually, I don't know what people are complaining about. Mugabe only promised free elections - he never said anything about their outcome having any effect. Everyone got to vote - what more do they bloody want?

Another elaborate April Fool's gag I really liked was that one where those people in Kent came home from holiday to find that an aircraft had crashed into their house. The great thing about it was that, right up until they actually arrive back home, they thought it was a wind up - then they come round the corner and find that their house really has been demolished! To digress slightly, one eyewitness to the crash said that as the aircraft started descending, the pilot signalled from the cockpit that he was 'going down'. Now, whilst, in a way, I admire any man who, in the face of probable death, can take the time to boast about his sexual prowess, i can't help but feel that if he'd spent less time performing a sex act and more time concentrating on the controls, then maybe the plane wouldn't have crashed...

Labels: ,