Monday, July 30, 2007


The Spot The Difference post has been mothballed until later in the week. Mind you, it's been the subject of cruel indifference from my dwindling readership ... thanks for the lone comment anyway Billy.

However, I have to acknowledge the three deaths that have occurred over the last couple of days, which will probably be acknowledged by loads of other bloggers with more style and decorum.

Rest in peace Ingmar Bergman, who was the fucking business. Which filmmaker is going to throw light onto the human condition now? Spike Jonze? Yeah, right.

Rest in peace Frank Butcher from Eastenders (aka Mike Reid of Runaraaaaaahhnd fame). I'm not really familiar with Frank/Mike's oeuvre, but I know he was the master of the gimlet eyed, thin lipped smile which you only ever see on men from London (preferably accompanied by hairy forearms and a large expensive watch).

Rest in peace Phil Drabble, Midlands naturalist (that's NATURALIST) who I remember from my childhood as being a frequent guest on Midlands Today, usually accompanied by his pointer Bessie (um Bessie was a dog). Phil grew up in Bloxwich, which means he may have remembered the Bloxwich to Walsall trolley buses.

The world is a darker place tonight:(

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Sunday, July 29, 2007


Local weather report at 11:00 hrs GMT.

"I'll go to Brierley Hill. It's black over Bill's mother's."


Thursday, July 26, 2007


Here are the results of yesterday's Spot The Difference competition!

Yesterday, I asked you to spot the five differences in the two seemingly identical pictures of "Big Mo" off of Eastenders looking uncharacteristically glammed up at the 2004 TV Quick Awards.

In picture B she:

* wore black lipstick

* had one yellow eye

* had more cleavage hanging out of her dress

* had a fainter moustache

* had a cloven hoof

I'm happy to announce that the competition winner is TRACEY WIGGINS OF WIGAN. Congratulations Tracey, a box set of drippy, winsome songs by the late Jim Croce will be winging its way to you up there in Wigan!


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Monday, July 23, 2007


It appears that the continually shite weather in Britain can be blamed on one source, and one source only.

Not global warming. No, the blame must lay fairly and squarely with this young lady:

Rihanna has been at number one in the hit parade for about three months now with the song Umbrella, in which she invites some bloke or other to "come under (her) umbrella" for shelter.

This isn't just a saucy sexual metaphor. Oooh, no. Neither is the bit where she sings "it's raining (raining)/Ooo baby it's raining/baby come into me/Come into me."

What we're dealing with is a hex on the British climate.

I can vouch for this because when I was on holiday, we'd set off in the car for a few hours lazing on the beach, or for a hearty coastal stroll, with radio accompaniment on the journey. Inevitably, the *nation's number one* would be played within an hour or so ...

"NOW THAT IT'S RAINING MORE THAN EVER!" Rihanna would declare ...

Which would immediately result in flash floods, hurricanes, thunder bolt and lightening (very very frightening, me). Which meant our lovely relaxing summer's day was curtailed - again.

Drastic measures have to be taken. If there's any hope at all of getting something that resembles a late blossoming summer in August, the market must be (ho ho) *flooded* with songs and bands that make references to sun or summer, regardless of whether they are crap or not. It's the only way to remove the curse.

The likes of ...

Good Day Sunshine - The Beatles
Chase The Sun - Planet Funk
Sunny - Bobby Hebb
Beach Baby - First Class
Hello Summertime - Bobby Goldsboro
Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks

Summer In The City - The Lovin' Spoonful
Anything by Sunn O))) (...just the band you'd want to turn up at a beach party, plugging their guitars into the sand, after all)

Any more suggestions in the comments box, please. If we act now, the British public can go back to grumbling about the usual summer stuff: wasps; hay fever; mugginess; hosepipe bans; people who don't use deodorant and stand next to them on trains; the fumes from barbecues.

Oh, and really "well built" women who have "glandular problems" can once more say "oh, I hate this hot weather, I can't stand it, I'll be glad when there's a storm so it cools down a bit. Pass us another pork pie will ya?"

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Saturday, July 21, 2007


In the most shocking development since Mike Read, as a tennis fan, announced that he was backing Boris Becker to stand as London Mayor, former Radio One jock and pal of Mike's, Paul Burnett now announces that he is to stand as London Mayor. Here, he explains why.

"A couple of nights ago, I was at a fundraising event with Mike, DLT and a few other showbusiness pals, including Shaky, Cliff, The Icicle Works and a few others. It was a very worthwhile cause - we were raising money for the Retired Radio One Disc Jockeys Association. Those guys do so much to help veteran former jocks who are, say, suffering ill health or, as is the case with poor Noel Edmonds, a terrible financial crisis.

Anyway, talk got around to the nominations for London Mayor. Mike felt, as a tennis fan, there was only one way his vote could go - to Boris Becker. However it inspired me to take the plunge and stand myself!

What will I be focusing on? Well, it's a cause close to my heart - radio in London!

You know, I flick across the radio dial in my car and I get so angry. Whatever happened to quality radio?

I particularly despair about the way my old station - Radio One - has gone downhill.

I listened to it the other day and it was such a racket that I had to switch off after half an hour! All that tuneless new wave music by The Cooks, Katie Nash and The Feelings! What happened to decent quality adult orientated pop music? I particularly objected to some combo called The Twang. Really, it was some guy shouting gibberish about being "on one about the silliest of stuff" in a comedy Brummie accent! I felt as though I'd been dragged back in time and was listening to the comedy Brummie on the hit single I performed on with DLT - Laurie Lingo And The Dipsticks' zany Convoy GB!!!

So, I thought - "enough is enough!!!"

Here are my pledges to all you lovely Londoners to make London radio stations the envy of the rest of the world:

* More playlists full of quality songs by Sutherland Brothers And Quiver, Sad Cafe and The Bellamy Brothers!!!

* More DJ's who can actually do the job! NOT so-called "Shock Jocks" like Joe Wylie and Edith Bowman (can anyone actually understand her accent???!!! As DLT would say, "she's a bonnie wee lassie fray north o'the border!!!!!") No - let's bring back REAL jocks who learnt their chops on the good ship Caroline or at Radio London in the beat music heyday!!!!!

* More jobs at Radio One, Heart and Virgin for DJ's the people really want to hear again - Simon Bates, DLT, Tony Brandon, "The Emperor" Roscoe, Adrian Juste, Mike Read, Peter Powell, "Diddy" David Hamilton and my good self!!!!

* Decent salaries for all of us!!

I hope you'll all be getting behind my campaign which I'm going to be calling the "ONE-DERFUL LONDON" campaign. Here's to a brighter future!!!"

*With thanks to Herr Footman Of The Gestapo for making reference to the Mike Read Comment Is Free article.

*Paul Burnett is appearing in Mother Goose at Bicester Tivoli Theatre from December 3rd.

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Thursday, July 19, 2007


I seem to have been tagged by Mangonel to complete the TEN AUTHORS I MUST SMASH WITH A BAT UNTIL THEY ARE MOTIONLESS meme.

Well, I was asking for it because I left a comment on the aforementioned post.

As you've probably gathered, I'm approximately the third most stupid person to use the internet (I'm so stupid I don't know who the other two are). At least I can blame it on society, maan, and having to grow up surrounded by the sort of people who would garrote you if you read any sort of book.

So I can't come up with any sort of INFORMED list drawn from the millions of books I've read. Still, as, er, Max Erhmann said, even the dull and ignorant have their story ...

... and it gives me a chance to hurl gratuitous insults around.


1. Jeffrey Archer. Not read anything by him. Never will. All I will say is this: never trust anyone with a cum face who gets involved in politics. The same applies to Paddy Ashdown.

2. Virginia Woolf. Look, I tried. I've read To The Lighthouse twice and a compilation of works. They bored the arse off me. From the "I've got a pair of ovaries and I'm too sensitive for this world" school of writing. Also, apparently, a complete snob who was revolted by the *lower orders*, therefore influencing the likes of Ch*vscum.com (well, probably). Face it, you'd rather be reading Sherlock Holmes, wouldn't you?

3. Helen Fielding. "no glasses of wine: v. good. Twenty seven cigarettes: v. bad". Modern women can identify with Bridget Jones, apparently, because she wants to marry a Jane Austen character. Right you are.

4. Any chicklit writer who rattles on about "serious retail therapy". All those books with curly gurrlly writing on the front and pink covers and little cartoons of 1950's women carrying masses of fashion store bags on the cover that have taken over the space in book shops normally occupied by proper books designed to be read by people with an IQ above ten.

5. The writers of any of those books about war that you find in budget bookshops. The ones called stuff like Great Scottish Battles Of The Late Seventeenth Century written by Major James Andrew George Edward Fitzhenry Fitzgibbon Fitzwilliam. Great Doorstop, more like.

... well, nobody said anything about having to read the authors, did they?

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Wednesday, July 18, 2007


It's difficult to ignore the *elephant in the room*.

Since I came back from my two week break, my comments on posts have halved.

Considering the fact that I'm going away for a two week break again in September, I should imagine that I'll be down to an audience of zero by the time I get back from East Angular. Back to where I started from, in other words.

Fair enough, the posts I've published have been shite. All that cliched celebrity mag rubbish about Posh Spice. Who am I - Carla Romano reporting on Hollywood gossip on GMTV fer farx sake?

Anyway, in an effort to get out of the rut, I pledged to visit a blog I've either lurked on or not been to before and leave a comment every day for a week.

... which was unnerving. All the worries about being frozen out, seeming like a comments whore (Har har! As if! Har har!). Well, on some blogs you definitely get the same feeling that you get when you walk into a pub where you're not a *local*.

... except you can't always tell ...

... which means I lost my nerve after a couple of days. Might pluck up the courage again. Might not.

In the meantime, if anyone comes over here wondering who the fuck that old bint was that left the comment on their blog when they've not been properly introduced, and god, she's got a nerve, and really, people will do anything to pimp their awful blogs ...

Don't be concerned. It will not harm you. It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of.

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Monday, July 16, 2007


Fifty Per Cent, the rapper

The Mother In Law: "That Danielle Lloyd is in the paper again."

Me: "Oh, everybody has had their turn with her."

The Mother In Law: "She went out with that Teddy Sherrenham, and some other footballers, now she's seeing the rapper, Fifty Per Cent."

* * * * * * *


Curvy Posh lets it all hang out for the boys in America

The Mother In Law: "Have you seen those pictures of Posh Spice in The Mirror? One of them is ever so disgusting. Honestly, look at this."

(she shows us a large picture of Posh wearing a corset and knickers while sitting with legs akimbo. There is not much meat on her and, as usual, she looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp.)

The Mother In Law: "The way she's sitting is disgusting. How can she do that as A MOTHER OF THREE? It's horrible."

Geoff: "It does look, er, horrible. She's not very nice looking."

Me: "Apparently there's a picture of her without any pants on from that photo session".

The Mother In Law: "Really? But honestly ... A MOTHER OF THREE."

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Thursday, July 12, 2007


... right, these days you're not anybody in the blogging world unless you've got a book contract.

So I'm sure you'll all congratulate me on my one and a half a million quid deal with Pan Books, right? After all, the blogging world is full of love and encouragement. I wish I could give both of my readers a virtual hug and a glass of Asti Spumanti by way of celebration and a big THANK YOU for your continuous support!

I sweated my metaphorical bollocks off writing my debut "arty bonkbuster" for at least two weeks and, let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Every spare minute was spent drafting, re-drafting, worrying, on the phone to my proof reader, my agent, my publisher, the editor of the Barnehurst Xtra, the 3AM Girls at the Mirror trying to whip up some publicity. Honestly, you ordinary people don't realise what hell it is to be an author! We torture ourselves every day but THE WORDS MUST COME OUT!!

Soooo ...

My first erotica novel, Staring At The Moon, will be available for only £3.99 as part of a special promotion at W.H. Smith in Luton Airport for a month from next Monday. I'm thrilled to provide you with an EXCLUSIVE extract from the book here.

"Only her tremulous lower lip betrayed Cressida's real feelings - the torrent of thunderous desire that coursed through her blood vessels like some kind of delicious agony. She pressed the palm of her hand under Jacob's fawn coloured Gabicci cardigan and marvelled at the exquisite hardness of his nipple beneath his jersey Simon shirt. Slowly, her eyes moved down to visually feast on the contours within his Terylene worsted slacks."

There you go. I've hit the jackpot at last so I'm too important to blog anymore. Off for drinkies with Bobby Davro and Paul Potts now. Ooh, and got to get my stylist to choose a frock for the TV Quick Awards!

Be seeing you around, perhaps.

... with thanks to Garfer for this post which I in no way ripped off or anything.

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Tuesday, July 10, 2007


The world according to Mutya Buena.

"I tell you summink, right, in this life you get aht wot you put into it, rahht? I don't let no one stand in my way and tell me wot to do and I don't take no shit, rahht?

I've always made my way in this wewd the way I want to, like it's a dog eat dog wewd aht there and you gotta look aht for yourself, rahht? I know where I stand and this is the real wewd, rahht, and no one is gonna stand in my way and stop me from gettin' wot is mine. You gotta earn that respect but when you have earnt it then respect is due and I am due respect.

Wiv me, you get wot you see.

I always pay my way and the cloves I wear and my cars and my houses is all mine, I earnt every penny rahht? So no one has got the right to tell me wot to do.

I'm on my way to the top and no one is gonna get in my way and I know exactly wot I'm doin' and I'm in control and no one is gonna stop me and I know where I stand and I know what to do and where I'm goin' and I know wot this wewd is abaahht and I stay focused and I do my fing and I know wot I'm doin' and I stay true to myself and I know wot I'm doin'. and where I'm goin' and I take it one day at a time and stay focused on the goal and that goal is to get to the top. I don't have no regrets.

I ain't some little gewl, I'm a real gewl livin' in the real wewd.


* further reading here.

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Saturday, July 07, 2007


More tennis lookalikes ...

Boris Johnson ...

... and Boris Becker.

Bob Hewitt ...

... and "Bullet" Baxter from Grange Hill. Um, there weren't any good pictures of Bob Hewitt on Google Images.

Richard Jobson ...

and Tracy Austin.

Neddy ...

... and the lovely Ann Jones.

Happy Wimbledon weekend folks. Anyone for Robinson's lemon barley water?

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Thursday, July 05, 2007

OH, I SAY!!! 

Wimbledon fortnight lookey-likeys. The first in a series.

Virginia Wade ...

... and Lee Van Cleef ....

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Monday, July 02, 2007


It's my birthday today, which means you must leave congratulations, lavish praise, large sums of money and beautiful men at the usual address.

On Saturday night, we were planning to go up to the West End to have a meal at a place which is apparently a favourite of television's Phillllll Jupitus (of Never Mind The Buzzcocks and I Like Gogol Bordello fame). I should imagine the portions are very large.

Except that suddenly there seem to be Mercs full of nails and gas canisters abandoned in the West End. I don't fancy the idea of being blown up on behalf of George Bush. Oh, and why is it that bloody Londoners have to put up with all this crap when Britain didn't instigate the "War On Terror" and is only a bit part player in it?

Anyway, we ended up having a meal in a bogstandard local restaurant that hasn't been endorsed by anyone who appears regularly on BBC 2.

Also, there has been a postal strike. This means that there will be a backlog of post. Which means that I won't get half of my birthday cards until the middle of July.

Also, it has rained every day since our first full day in Cornwall three weeks ago, and rain is forecast every day for the foreseeable future.

Also, I can't get my Blogger html facility to work.

When will it end?

When will it end?

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