Thursday, April 17, 2008
I'LL TELL YER MUM
It seems that a fuss is being made about this year's French Eurovision entry, because it's not being sung entirely in French.
French MP François-Michel Gonnot - a man who is obviously trying to make a name for himself, er, sorry, a man who obviously cares passionately about French culture and language, is very vocal about the fact that the song is going to be performed in English.
I'm not going to wade in with an argument one way or another.
The song is going to be sung by Sebastien Tellier, which rather goes against Eurovision tradition in itself.
This is Sebastien ...
... uh, hold on, that can't be right ...
... this is Sebastien. Denise, Denise I've got a crush on you! Nah, still not right ...
... THIS is Sebastien (a boyish but hirsute 33).
I'm listening to his most recent CD as I write this. One of the tracks is going to be the Eurovision song, which will be competing with Britain's entry (the singing binman), Ireland's song (performed by Dustin The Turkey) and Turkey's song (performed by Irishman Val Doonican). Confusing, isn't it?
Judging by this album, it seems that Sebastien transcends French or English. He sings in, 'ow you say, ze international language of lerrve.
There is a lot of moaning on the album. No, I don't mean that he's complaining about losing his luggage at Heathrow's Terminal Five, or the congestion charge.
Nope, it's moaning as in "Oh! Sebastien! You are the laydeez man, always quick with the kiss on the hand! You come and go between my kidneys! You are the only man with a beard who I will let loose on my couchette!"
(Um, hold on, a lot of ladies would let George Clooney loose on their couchette, and he's recently acquired a beard! Allegedly! Cough, splutter ...)
Anyway, Eurovision looks like it could be an interesting experience, with Sebastien, the dustman, the turkey and Val Doonican hopefully indulging in a pan-European orgy, live. Now that really would be a coming together of nations.
French MP François-Michel Gonnot - a man who is obviously trying to make a name for himself, er, sorry, a man who obviously cares passionately about French culture and language, is very vocal about the fact that the song is going to be performed in English.
I'm not going to wade in with an argument one way or another.
The song is going to be sung by Sebastien Tellier, which rather goes against Eurovision tradition in itself.
This is Sebastien ...
... uh, hold on, that can't be right ...
... this is Sebastien. Denise, Denise I've got a crush on you! Nah, still not right ...
... THIS is Sebastien (a boyish but hirsute 33).
I'm listening to his most recent CD as I write this. One of the tracks is going to be the Eurovision song, which will be competing with Britain's entry (the singing binman), Ireland's song (performed by Dustin The Turkey) and Turkey's song (performed by Irishman Val Doonican). Confusing, isn't it?
Judging by this album, it seems that Sebastien transcends French or English. He sings in, 'ow you say, ze international language of lerrve.
There is a lot of moaning on the album. No, I don't mean that he's complaining about losing his luggage at Heathrow's Terminal Five, or the congestion charge.
Nope, it's moaning as in "Oh! Sebastien! You are the laydeez man, always quick with the kiss on the hand! You come and go between my kidneys! You are the only man with a beard who I will let loose on my couchette!"
(Um, hold on, a lot of ladies would let George Clooney loose on their couchette, and he's recently acquired a beard! Allegedly! Cough, splutter ...)
Anyway, Eurovision looks like it could be an interesting experience, with Sebastien, the dustman, the turkey and Val Doonican hopefully indulging in a pan-European orgy, live. Now that really would be a coming together of nations.
Labels: Demis Roussos, Denise Roussos, Eurovision, laydeez men, moaning, Sebastien Tellier, Val Doonican
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
THIRD ANNUAL REPORT
As this blog limps into its fourth great year, I thought I'd assess what I should and shouldn't be doing from now on.
OUT go long rambling posts, leaving too many inane comments on other people's blogs, spending long hours at the blogging coalface, getting upset if I don't get many comments, taking it all too seriously, not getting on with other stuff and definitely NO to "a beautifully realised and moving eulogy to etc., illness etc., awful upbringing etc., funeral etc., oh poor poor me, etc., wotsit" confessional posts in which I try to hint that y'know, I might be a *REAL* writer (not that there's ever been any danger of that ... I hope ...)
IN come short, easy to write and read posts, less networking, not taking it all seriously, actually getting to reading more than four books a year instead of blogging, part time blogging (ie, if I want to do three posts at once, then disappear for a month or so - then so be it), being even more stupid and superficial than before, nicking ideas from other people, spontaneity, ignoring the stalkers, nutters and abusive comments that are part and parcel of blogging ... just trying to make blogging take up less of my time. Which is the way things have been going anyway over the past few months, don't you know.
Basically, then, there will still be the same poorly written and ill thought out crap here, just less of it.
Like Val Doonican, however, I will still be using the spellcheck facility.
OUT go long rambling posts, leaving too many inane comments on other people's blogs, spending long hours at the blogging coalface, getting upset if I don't get many comments, taking it all too seriously, not getting on with other stuff and definitely NO to "a beautifully realised and moving eulogy to etc., illness etc., awful upbringing etc., funeral etc., oh poor poor me, etc., wotsit" confessional posts in which I try to hint that y'know, I might be a *REAL* writer (not that there's ever been any danger of that ... I hope ...)
IN come short, easy to write and read posts, less networking, not taking it all seriously, actually getting to reading more than four books a year instead of blogging, part time blogging (ie, if I want to do three posts at once, then disappear for a month or so - then so be it), being even more stupid and superficial than before, nicking ideas from other people, spontaneity, ignoring the stalkers, nutters and abusive comments that are part and parcel of blogging ... just trying to make blogging take up less of my time. Which is the way things have been going anyway over the past few months, don't you know.
Basically, then, there will still be the same poorly written and ill thought out crap here, just less of it.
Like Val Doonican, however, I will still be using the spellcheck facility.
Labels: abusive commenters, beautifully realised and moving eulogies, nutters, part time blogging, plagiarism, Val Doonican
Sunday, April 08, 2007
GOD BLESS YOU
Soon we'll be going out for a long hearty walk in the countryside, although I can't reveal the location because it would compromise my enigmatic blogging persona. Hopefully we won't be attacked by a large, wolf-like dog, which happened when we last undertook a long hearty walk in the countryside.
I'd like to convey my thanks to the reader who donated Simnel cake IN PERSON. I'm overcome with guilt because I couldn't provide a suitable Easter gift in return but, be thankful for small mercies. I could have baked something for you, and you really wouldn't want that.
Anyway, I'm overcome with happiness because I can announce that tonight is VAL DOONICAN EVENING on BBC Four.
Hopefully the scheduled programmes will give us THE TRUTH behind the myth, the jumpers and the rocking chair.
We may even find out if he really does rate online banking and the computer spellcheck facility, as described on Wikipedia.
What a lovely thing to come home to after a hard day of walking heartily in an undisclosed destination in the countryside. I may even have a mug of cocoa to accompany the viewing.
A happy Easter to all of my millions of bedridden readers around the world. Be at peace with your pipe.
I'd like to convey my thanks to the reader who donated Simnel cake IN PERSON. I'm overcome with guilt because I couldn't provide a suitable Easter gift in return but, be thankful for small mercies. I could have baked something for you, and you really wouldn't want that.
Anyway, I'm overcome with happiness because I can announce that tonight is VAL DOONICAN EVENING on BBC Four.
Hopefully the scheduled programmes will give us THE TRUTH behind the myth, the jumpers and the rocking chair.
We may even find out if he really does rate online banking and the computer spellcheck facility, as described on Wikipedia.
What a lovely thing to come home to after a hard day of walking heartily in an undisclosed destination in the countryside. I may even have a mug of cocoa to accompany the viewing.
A happy Easter to all of my millions of bedridden readers around the world. Be at peace with your pipe.
Labels: cocoa, ferocious dogs, online banking, Simnel cake, Val Doonican
Thursday, March 29, 2007
VDU
Isn't that a wonderful album sleeve? Positively demonic. Does it glow in the dark?
Thing is, Val Doonican always seemed to end each show in his series with his latest *45 rpm* release, and it was always quite a downbeat song that didn't appeal to my very young ears in the way that a song by The Monkees did. Presumably Val was more proud of these downbeat songs than the novelty hits that used to be regular favourites on Radio One's Junior Choice.
It's difficult to find out much about Val from the internet. I was searching for song lyrics but very few are available. One of these is, of course, Paddy McGinty's Goat: probably Val's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida or Third Stone From The Son. A jewel in the Doonican crown, as it were. Its stream of conciousness words gather their own (often bawdy) momentum and hurtle off into never before explored realms, in the manner of the other Irish master, James Joyce.
Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any footage of the early, angry Doonican at his finest on YouTube. I did manage to find a clip from a 1977 show where he does a duet with a pre-Grease Olivia Newton-John.
In this series I seem to remember that Val went "a bit country, not very rock 'n' roll" which is something of a cop out in my opinion. I suppose as he grew older he found it difficult to maintain the same level of energy that used to leave him so spent at the end of earlier shows that he had to collapse into a rocking chair.
Mind you, a few of you seem to like all that Americana stuff, and this clip is no worse that some of the crap that ends up on free Uncut CD's. Besides, one of the commenters on YouTube says "bless you for posting this" which makes a change from the usual "LOL LOL ugleee, ugleee - is she a man?? LMFAO." shards of wisdom you get on there.
Spread a little niceness.
Labels: Americana, bestiality, goats, tell me more tell me more, Val Doonican
Friday, March 23, 2007
THAT OLD MAN RIVER
While scraping around for new ideas (they're getting as rare as hen's teeth these days) I was commenting on a post at Billy's where he was discussing auditory hallucination. He asked readers whose voice they would like to accompany an hallucination.
This triggered off an unpleasant memory of mine, which is the *inspiration* for this awful post.
When I was about five years old, I was sat with my parents watching The Val Doonican Show on television.
Velvet Voiced Val was like a cosy security blanket wrapped around my childhood. I'm sure his shows were on television every Saturday night until I was about seven and the reality of how cruel, indifferent and cold this dog eat dog world is finally kicked in.
To anyone under the age of, I dunno, forty, it's difficult to describe the way that Val Doonican strode the earth like a colossus. Well, probably difficult to convince anyone of my age actually. He just played an important part in my life, okay?
Anyway, one night I felt a bit poorly (as five year olds tend to do for around seventy per cent of the time). This, however was ... different.
I had some sort of high fever and was put to bed ONLY ABOUT TEN MINUTES INTO THE VAL DOONICAN SHOW. Clearly, I was at death's door.
It wasn't long before I was hallucinating that Val was singing to me in his rocking chair, with a voice that was far deeper than normal. He sounded more like Paul Robeson. The rocking chair rocked harder and more insistently, and Val glared at me, his eyes ablaze and his voice booming, like a rocking chair-bound lay priest.
Into this melee stepped Pinky And Perky.
The menacing puppet pigs are trauma inducing enough in themselves. My cruel parents had decorated my bedroom with Pinky And Perky wallpaper. This featured a design of one of them playing drums, and one of them playing a stand up bass. Some sort of bebop duo set up.
In my feverish state, Pinky And Perky came out of the wallpaper and started to play the most ungodly rhythmic modern jazz racket
All this lasted about half an hour. An atonal, hundred and fifty decibel cacophony involving pigs and a crooning Irishman.
It was even more frightening than my previous hallucination, in which my parents' insurance man, Mr Baker, was scrambling over the roof of the outhouse that I could see from my bedroom window
There will be more on Val Doonican in the next post. You all deserve to suffer as much as I did.
Labels: Junior Disprin, Paul Robeson, Pinky And Perky, Tom 909, Val Doonican
