Monday, June 26, 2006


Paul Robinson


Fighter.

Dirty Old Man

Whilst at the car boot sale in Salford on Sunday, I couldn't help but notice this dirty old man rummaging around in a box full of Adult Movies

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


Come On England!

Monday, June 19, 2006


Fucked By Monty

I am currently suffering from what is commonly known as "Man Flu" which had left me incapacitated leaving me to idly surf the net.

Imagine my astonishment when I read that the cult classic film Withnail & I is to be remade.

Call me cynical, but I always feel that remakes of originals without exception always turn out to be vastly inferior to the original - almost like that Carry On... film that was made in the 90s with the girls from the Philadelphia Cheese advert.

Jude Law apparently is to be cast in the title role - Richard E Grant is still very much alive and well, and his carrier-bag covered wellingtons would be extremely hard to fill.

This gives great opportunity to re-cast Uncle Monty - whithout doubt the star of the show, and since I have recently wrote about him complaining that he isn't in much these days, I cannot think of a better actor to play Uncle Monty than the award winning actor, Christopher Biggins.

Why he wasn't thought of playing the part in the first place amazes me.

"I find the carrot infinitely more fascinating than the rose..."

Thursday, June 15, 2006


Alanis Morissette

I have absolutely no idea what happened or whether I am undergoing some mid-90s revivial within myself, but my latest package from the Amazon Marketplace came in the form of Jagged Little Pill.

This album, from being a staple of every angst ridden teenager in the 90s has handsomely stood the test of time.

You Learn amongst others still speaks to me as much as it did back in '95, and although my concusions may be different, it's almost like seeing an old friend again.

Friday, June 09, 2006


Chris Fountain:


Fit

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


Whinge Like You’re Whining

You can’t reheat a soufflé. Or so said John Lennon.
Back in the summer of 98 the country was burning with enthusiasm and support for the England team.

There was even an anthem – Thee Lions.
Instantly catchy, it spilled out from the pubs to the beer gardens across the country.

The single itself was a commercial smash-hit, selling thousands of copies in the days before normal illegal downloading or smug “I pay for each song I download from a respected site” downloading.

England of course, lost, and now here we are again with the world cup nearly upon us.

In this feel good time we’ve come to expect a song to completely outshine Three Lions.
Franz Ferdinand, Snow Patrol and the Arctic Monkeys all refused to have anything do to with it; however word was sent back from sunny Brighouse that Embrace would pen a world cup song that would be sung in every kebab queue from Berwick-upon-Tweed to Barnstaple.

Nice thought. Embrace were/still are an excellent Indie/Guitar band, not known for their anthemic back catalogue.

Thora Hird stuck to what she knew when she was a character actress; she did not get her tits out for Loaded magazine. Wayne Rooney has never appeared on QI with Stephen Fry playing verbal tennis with his vocabulary.

So the nation has turned against Embrace for their shoegazing single which doesn’t feature the name of the country that they are mournfully representing.

Out of the shadows steps a bewildering array of Z List celebrities all clamouring to relive their fifteen minutes of fame.

Amongst the most jingoistic and xenophobic is Stan Boardman’s feeble attempt. This is a man who was so politically incorrect in the 80s and 90s that for the past 12 years he has worked as a mobile DJ in Kirkby - stacking supermarket shelves in obscurity.

The Sun is behind Boardman 110% as the song represents their core readership, fighting lads from Huyton, beer bellied white van men from the rougher parts of Essex and insular, racist Alf Garnet style pensioners who ought to have died twenty years ago.

I make no apology for sounding smug – the once blurry line between football and racism is now clearly defined.

Stan Boardman is a dinosaur who ought to have been left firmly behind in the 80s alongside ra-ra skirts and neon socks.

The most interesting of the world cup singles appears to be the offering from disgraced former Tory MP Neil Hamilton, duetting alongside his wife Christine.

I love the Hamiltons, between them they have the cheek of a rhinoceros and show not one ounce of shame.

Self publicising and self aggrandising, they have become an example of 21st century celebrity.

It could be argued “Stan Boardman represents the man on the street” whereas the Hamiltons don’t.

Possibly – Stan Boardman may possibly represent Burberry Street, Chavsville, the Hamiltons may represent Millionaires Row, Hampstead.

The most engaging fact about the Hamiltons is the 2003 court case brought against them by fellow Grimbarian Nadine Milroy-Sloan, a 29 year old living on benefits who had made contact with Barry Lehaney, a 61 year old man who regularly trawled internet chatrooms under a variety of pseudonyms.

To cut a long story short, Milroy Sloan accused Christine Hamilton of “performing a sex act” – in other words she accused Christine Hamilton of sitting on her face, forcing Milroy-Sloan to perform oral sex upon her.

The whole episode raised more than a few eyebrows, and the flamboyancy of the Hamiltons made Milroy-Sloan’s case even more convincing.
It was widely thought the Hamiltons were a shady pair; however these allegations put the seed of doubt into people’s heads that they could be involved in kinky sex.

The respectable middle aged couple three doors down with pampas grass in their front garden are the ones often to be found at swingers parties and in unsavoury photos in contact magazines.

Could Christine Hamilton be capable of such perversion?

It transpired that Milroy-Sloan had a slightly vivid imagination, and the Hamiltons enjoyed the limelight so much that Christine went on to appear in a reality TV show as well as other appearances.

Neil and Christine Hamiltion surely are to football as to what Julian Clary is to bricklaying.

Should they stick to what they know?

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Monday, June 05, 2006


Christopher Biggins

One of my colleagues has told me that Christopher Biggins, like his fellow gin glugger, Joan Collins, is embarking on a UK tour for his forthcoming one man show.

Naturally this news was met with both scepticism and entheusiasm,

The last time I saw Christopher Biggins was several months ago reciting some rude poems on Paul O’Grady’s show dressed (for some reason) as a schoolboy (complete with ink stains to the face)

He is surely one of the most iconic TV presenters of a generation.
Anyone who grew up in the 80s will no doubt be able to remember the mind-boggling collection of loud and ridiculous spectacles that he wore.

Another celebrity of whom I’m fond (indeed her own website has a link via this blog) is Su Pollard.

Su Pollard’s bewildering array of comedy glasses surely must rivial that of Christopher Biggins.

I find both of them superbly entertaining, so much so, I took away a copy of Su Pollard’s autobiography Hearts and Showers away with me on my last holiday. The volume - a hardback with a shocking pink sleeve complete with a picture of Su Pollard in a fluffy yellow mohair jersey and an enormous pair of glasses – caused some curious looks on the flight.

To my chagrin, Christopher Biggins hasn’t put his life into print.
“Why?” I wonder. Does he owe money to Specsavers?

I once had an idea for a television programme, which has since been plagiarised by Channel 4 for one of their adverts.

The name of the show would be “My Favourite Swear Words” and would have been presented by Dame Thora Hird.

The show would have opened with Thora Hird sat in a chair, in an austere setting, such as a nursing home in Morecambe, with the camera slowly zooming into her face.

“My favourite swear word is the word cunt” said Thora Hird, followed by an explanation of the word being used to her, and also an occasion where she has used the word herself “I was working with Cliff Richard at the Bristol Old Vic in 1975 and he was forever pinching my bottom, I tried reasoning with him, as did the assistant floor manager. In the end I shouted over ‘See if you pinch my arse one more time you old cunt I’ll kick you in the fucking balls”

The surpirse element being that no-one would expect a national treasure such as Thora Hird, sorry, the late great Dame Thora Hird to use profane language, especially on television.

As there is only 7 “bad” swear words (apparently) and (back then anyway) only one Thora Hird, the show would quickly become pridictable, so my thoughts then moved to Christopher Biggins, who I imagined would be good at saying dirty limericks.
Your Personality Is Like Cocaine
You're dynamic, brilliant, and alluring to those who don't know you. Hyper and full of energy, you're usually the last one to leave a party. Sometimes your sharp mind gets the better of you... you're a bit paranoid!
What Drug Is Your Personality Like?