One of the advantages of living so far out of the loop is that it's very easy to avoid the latest manifestations of Celebutardery, although this can sometimes be frustrating. I've missed Myleene's showers ("Hmmm, I wonder, if I stand under cold water, maybe my nipples will show through my bikini, and lots of people will watch..."), the unlikely resurrection of Steve Strange, and a parallel universe in which England cricketers can actually do something right (although not cricket, it must be said). And it would have been nice to have experienced Ken Russell's brief sojourn in the Big Brother house, especially as it gave rise to this thoughtful appreciation of Jade Goody and her family:"I grew up in the slums of Southampton and we had a word for people like that - guttersnipes. There should be a Devil's Island where we can send these people, they're all going to Hell anyway. I've met people from all walks of life but no-one so vulgar. It's almost as though they've been programmed to be vulgar, horrible and objectionable. They speak in a language which is deliberately limited. They didn't even seem to know how to use a knife and fork."
This from a man who once filmed Vanessa Redgrave getting an enema, not to mention Oliver Reed's genitalia.
Also: something for the Who fans at CiF; a contrarian view of media interactivity from the LA Times (thanks to Wyndham for spotting this); Patroclus needs your blogging epiphanies for the book that's going to make her rich and famous and the scourge of lifestyle journalists everywhere; and The Chasms of the Earth has staggered back into life, although they're still dicking around in the Louvre, and Ian McKellen hasn't started overacting yet.
And please don't talk to me about the Morrissey/Eurovision thing. I'm already experiencing a strange mixture of elation and nausea.
13 comments:
. . .and a picture of naked men that is actually demanded by the script, yeah?
Excuse me, I'm late for class.
Don't forget Glenda Jackson writhing around on the floor of a train carriage. I haven't.
Talking of class, you may like Ken Russell's Cliff Richard Video which I've linked to - he made it for EMI in around 1986.
So if Alan and Olly and Glenda could all get their bits out for Ken, why not Cliff? Something to hide, maybe?
The word verification is "reiunnhm" which is a get-together for people who used to be on a TB ward.
Haven't been able to post for a while. Thanks for the celebrity update. The cricketers winning the dancing thing is upsetting Mr realdoc greatly for some reason.
is that naked man with an orange mad at the other naked man?
dont smack him with that orange, you naked guy you. that will leave a mark.
this kind of violence needs to end, tim.
vr with the hose of fate up her rear? nonononononono.
Normally, someone from the middle or upper classes going off like that about a working class person would make me see red but Jade Goody and co can't even claim to be working class, but rather of the lumpen proletariat ... so inarticulate, so stupid. The name dropping, the claiming to be the 25th most influental person in the world ... was it a Chris Morris parody? Then again, isn't she worth £8 million, so what the hell do I know?
Yes, Glenda getting her kit off on camera... surely you can be kicked out of parliament for that? Or is it compulsory?
I think St Anthony might be thinking of the duty of MPs to declare eurythmic dancing in a field to an audience of cattle. Possibly?
Pictures of cock and articles about Doctor Who? I thought I'd clicked on entirely the wrong set of my bookmarks for a moment there!
Doc: C'mon, they've got to win something. Even if it's Sir Monty's Beard of the Year.
FN: If Ollie ever saw an orange he'd try to drink it.
Anthony: Sometimes I half expect Jade to unveil herself as a conceptual art piece by someone at Goldsmiths, a self-consciously 'ironic' exaggeration of all the stereotypes of plebeian culture. I think Russell (who came from a fairly rough background himself) is entitled to attack her because she's depicting working-class people in a bad light. Jade is like a minstrel show of the proletariat.
Arabella: Or maybe the next election should be decided on the basis of Brown and Cameron going head-to-head over a pinball table.
OA: Our aim is to please. Homoerotic UNIT fantasies a speciality.
Jade as minstrel show ... great description, that's exactly what she is. Yes, she's so, so crass, she can't be real.
MPs consorting with cattle, eh? Now surely that's illegal ... particularly if involving the use of half an orange and a stocking.
Gah, how can I become rich and famous if I don't even have time to reply to the emails people have sent me for my book (thanks Tim), let alone write the bloody thing?
Bloody work, getting in the way. It all seemed much more promising when I was sitting quietly making notes in a café in Cornwall last week.
I am saving the homoerotic Dr Who treats for later.
I'd rather watch enemas and genitalia than watch the mindless Jade Goody. Anyone seeking a missing link need look no farther than the inarticulate, thick-as-2-short-uns Jade, a humanoid being that seems to have achieved self-awareness by accident rather than design. There walks a woman who'd come 2nd to an Australopithecine in a contest of brains. She's famous for being famous, nothing more, and with any luck she'll slip back to pre-BB obscurity. If you shone a torch in her ear her whole head would light up like a jack o'lantern pumpkin and the the beam would shine clear through to the other side with no discernable cerebellum to impede it.
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