Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Saturday, May 05, 2007


For me, there's a magical time at 3am, when all the fairies and pixies come out and dance around your bedroom.

Or that's what it feels like. Recently I've been working a lot, like fourteen- fifteen-hours gay (I couldn't do straight if I tried. Seriously. If I even try to talk to a lady, my hands start flapping like a grounded sea lion and I can't help but ask who styles their hair. It's like I'm Pavlov's poodle or something. Anyway...) and it takes its toll. By the second week I was still wearing the same clothes as I believe them to 'be lucky' now and looked like the wild man of Borneo as my beard had grown to Blessed proportions. As I'm allergic to coffee I'm having to kickstart myself each day with some sugar-filled 'health-drink' called Purdeys and two weeks in you can't move for discarded bottles around me. To walk across the room causes an avalanche of empty bottles. It's like living with Liza Minnelli.

I'd ostracised the Boy too as he's a wonderful distraction, though he did offer simply to come over and make sure I was taking care of myself. He kept popping up on MSN and reminding me to eat, and insisting that I change my t-shirt, even offering to come over and do it for me. He has a chisel. And doesn't mind the stains of semen and taramasalata.

Three o'clock in the morning was when I really should have gone to bed, but was convinced I could push through and just design one more page. I'm sure you've all been in this position: the day's still in single figures, and some one's wanting you to do something for them that you really have no need or urge to. I've done it; if it gets me a bed for the night, I'll gladly roll over and let them get on with it as long as they don't wipe their member on my valance and make sure they tuck my nightie back down once they've done. This is a mad time when you still feel like you have to do the work, but you're physically incapable. And I wake up five hours later to find the I'd done the strangest things. Like download as many versions of 'These Boots Are Made For Walking' as I could.

Well I do like the Nancy version, but I don't like the best bit of the song happens at the end when yes, she does finally start walking, and the orchestra goes mad... and then it fades out. So I decided to find the definitive version - and this is what I found:

The writer of the song, Lee Hazelwood actually did a version. Now I like Lee Hazelwood. He's one of the only people who, when he sings, you can practically hear his moustache. His version of 'These Boots' is kinda like the DVD commentary, where he rumbles through the lyrics and points out where the engineer had to leave the room because he thought it was too arousing. Nancy Sinatra? Arousing? Did I miss a memo? Sure her hair was high, and her dresses had a nice empire line to them, but she had a face like a bag of spanners. Though I did love her attitude to mascara - more is MORE! I've seen some video footage where she has to flick her head back just to open her eyes rather like a toy doll.

The strangest version did belong to Bucks Fizz, Eurovision winners back in the day (in a formative way, I liked them because they did a little dance move where they tore off the girl's skirts. I liked it because it was camp, silly, and they were really nasty pleated things that did need to be removed anyway, so bonus). But then I found French/German industrial rock combo KMFDM's version. Which isn't half-bad, has grunge guitars and shouting, and contains a lot of 'oi!'-ing. How very Wonder Stuff. I find it's the perfect accompaniment to the stepper machine at the gym.

Whereas, Geri Halliwell's version is the perfect accompaniment to hoovering, or using any sort of loud power tool. It is the worse one I have, as Geri manages to to sound like she's raped every song she's attempting, probably with a barbed strap-on. You know the ones that, once they're in, don't come out without some serious anal tearing... that someone told me about, yes. Geri plays it 'angry', and meaning she just says every line, not singing it. Honestly, has this woman ever sung, or does she pretend to do scales by shouting at different volumes? Good ol' Geri 'sounds like a thousand crows in a furnace' Halliwell. I'm glad her last album flopped and the record execs are using the CDs as coasters around the building.

The best version I have so far comes from a complete surprise: Billie Ray Cyrus. You may remember him as a mullet shuffling around in cowboy boots, dancing like he'd shit himself. He sings it playfully, and says 'luuuuurve' instead of 'love' which is clearly endearing in a red-neck hick way, and he has a delightful way of tailing off when singing about his boots walking all over you. Like he's forgotten why he's wearing said boots, but then that's the boon of living in a state that has more pesticides in the air than nitrogen.

In total there are 34 versions, and I've only been able to find 14, so my collection is far from complete. If you have any versions you want to send over, drop 'em over to and I'll be obscenely grateful. And means I can get over this weird fixation even quicker.

I finished the book I was designing, by the way. So no more 15 hour days. And so I'm going away for a week, taking a break. I'm going to Spain wearing a lot of wafty white linen and a sombrero. I aim to come back with a lot of wafty white linen, a sombrero, a few bottles of unpronounceable spirit that'll double as a tile cleaner, and a Spanish waiter who's just desperate for a Green Card.

I shall leave you in the capable hands of Dicky, my favourite ex boyfriend. Be nice to him and see you in a week.


mike said...

I've got the Paula Yates version on vinyl, up in the attic. Don't hold your breath, but I'll put it on my to-do list...

Spike said...

I pray to Dog there isn't a William Shatner version.

JstGoHome said...

The best version of that song is on the soundtrack to the film Kinky boots, great film too....