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

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Give A Boy A Break

This is my new favourite obsession, sent to me by my lovely friend Tara. I love a bit of camp 50s nostalgia, though not as Ryan suggests it is because I lived it all the first time. Cheeky cow. No Rusks for him tonight.

Anyway, today I am enjoying my last day at BBC Worldwide before shuffling back off on the road of freelance (picture the end of an episode of 'The Incredible Hulk' only with more leg when hitchhiking) so there'll be no work done at my desk, let me tell you. Instead, I've picked out some of the best from the above sight and amended them. Because I can.







Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Glitter for Brains At The Movies: Sex And The City

My current relationship is somewhat of a cultural exchange: Ryan teaches me about the Arden folio of Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' and I take him to see the 'Sex and the City' movie. So how about a glitterized script?

Now, normally in these situations, 'The Audience' the voice of reason in an otherwise appalling film. This case, however, Ryan and I were surrounded by rows upon rows of women clearly stuck to their seats in couture-based ecstasy, whooping like ravening maenads whenever someone opens a shoe box. So we're having to play that part as we present:

SEX AND THE CITY: THE GLITTERIZED SCRIPT
Warning: contains spoilers

Open upon New York, and SARAH JESSICA PARKER walks the streets wearing a fucking ridiculous frock.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (VOICE OVER):
Meanwhile, in New York, when my movie career didn't take off, four women all got together to do a film that will be shown on hen nights across the globe for the next ten years.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Oh no, my life is so hard that I can't decide whether to live in this penthouse apartment, or this penthouse apartment. All while trying match my shoes with my fucking hideous frocks.

ME:
I'm so glad real life doesn't intrude on her existence one little bit.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Oh don't worry! I'll introduce you to a real life black person later! She will be subservient to me, though. And I will teach her to love couture as much as I love me!

ME:
Er, will she be treated as an equal? And introduced to your other harpy girlfriends?

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Er, no. But I'll be seen out with her in a bar. And I'll buy her a drink..!

THE AUDIENCE:
Hahahaaa! She likes shoes too! That's purrty!

ME AND RYAN ROLL OUR EYES.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (VOICE OVER):
Meanwhile, I have to wonder what's going on over in Hollywood, where Kim Catrall is having a separate storyline to fuel the rumours that we couldn't stand each other on set. I have to wonder...

CUT TO:
KIM CATRALL:
Jason Lewis, I'm leaving you. For purely selfish reasons, although I have to say that in between the series and this film, someone seems to have replaced the skin on your face with that of a worn leather saddlebag. I am, however, keeping this ring you bought for me. And every time I look down on it, yes, look down on it, I shall think of you.

ME:
Blimey. What's the the word for men-hating?

RYAN:
Misandry.

ME:
(POINTING AT SCREEN). Yes, that.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Meanwhile, I have to wonder what's going on in my life. I'm just about get married, so I can tart around in a fucking hideous frock for a while while the audience coos.

THE AUDIENCE:
Coo...

CHRIS NOTH (OVER THE PHONE):
Sarah Jessica Parker, I can't do this.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (OVER THE PHONE):
But why? I'm stamping my feet like a princess and everything!

CHRIS NOTH (OVER THE PHONE):
We need something to bring this overly long film to slow stop later on.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (OVER THE PHONE):
OK! See you in about three hours!

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (VOICE OVER):
Meanwhile, as Big was treating me like dirt, over the other side of Manhattan, Cynthia Nixon was also getting wiped over.

DAVID EIGENBERG:
I've slept with someone else.

CYNTHIA NIXON:
I'm frigid, get out.

ME:
Are we meant to make any correlation between Cynthia Nixon not sleeping with men, and Not Sleeping With Men, do you think.

THE AUDIENCE:
We don't like her as much. She doesn't talk about shoes.

Because their lives are SO HARD, all four women go on the HONEYMOON together. SARAH JESSICA PARKER spends all the time moping around until KRISTIN DAVIS shits herself. THE AUDIENCE falls about laughing like this is the FUNNIEST THING they have ever BORNE WITNESS to.

THE AUDIENCE:
It is funny because she is normally so composed and now she's ruined her couture! Hahahaa!

ME:
Cattrall and Parker are never in the same shot, are they?

SARAH JESSICA PARKER (VOICE OVER):
Meanwhile, I have to wonder what was happening with Kristin Davis...

KRISTIN DAVIS:
I'm pregnant!

THE AUDIENCE:
Coo...

RYAN:
Oh god, another sub-plot? This movie is far too long!

ME (WEAKLY):
What time did we get in here?

RYAN:
2008.

After what feels like an actual period of nine months, KRISTIN DAVIS gives birth. By some contrived method, CHRIS NOTH is there, and he and SARAH JESSICA PARKER hook back up again. They GET MARRIED finally.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Wee! It's all about me again!

CUT TO:
KIM CATTRALL'S 50th birthday party in a SWANKY NEW YORK BAR.

ME:
Fifty? FIFTY?!

RYAN:
Perhaps it's after tax.

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Meanwhile, I have to wonder what have we learned, ladies? I've learned that men do unspeakable things, and the only way that we women can be happy is to forgive men their nasty deeds and let them walk all over us.

KIM CATTRALL:
And I only gain personal happiness by acting like a man and walking all over someone else!

SARAH JESSICA PARKER:
Meanwhile, here's to us! Proving that any heartache can be solved with a nice pair of shoes and a fashion montage involving a comedy tutu. Now lets drink a cosmo and an inflated share of the profits!

THE AUDIENCE:
Must... buy... cosmopolitans... must... buy.... couture... must... buy... into... whole... ethos...

THE END.

Monday, June 16, 2008

I Love London... Honest

I've been in this city for around ten years and have had some pretty strange things happen to me along the way.

But on Saturday night, someone tried to exorcise me on the tube to Collier's Wood.

Fancy.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Be Seeing You

I caught a bit of The Prisoner the other day. And in my typical way, eschewed the traditional arguments about countercultural themes and identity and instead admired what all the women wore on their heads. I find hats give the finale an otherwise absent clarity. If there'd been more hats at the end of '2001' I personally would have understood that a lot better.

Anyway, I'd be brilliant in the Village. No really. They have these big balloons that chase you around called Rovers that drag you back to your home if you try and leave; after fifteen years on the dancefloors of wendy clubs around the world, I know how to escape the reach of the corpulent fag hags wanting to drag you back to their unfortunate, terracotta-tinted gays. And while you can't rabbit-punch a Rover in the tits, you can sidestep it while humming Steps to yourself and pretend you're heading straight to the bar.

Though I'd have to work on my Village catchphrase. I don't think I'm "I am not a number, I'm a free man".

More, "Take a number, I'm a free man"...

Monday, June 09, 2008

Hell Is Other Ideas

When Ryan speaks of his days as a full-on Bible-hugging Protestant, he does it with a weird nostalgia usually reserved by people my age talking about free school milk, Fanella the witch, and the plague. It was only two years ago - which I suppose is quite a long time to him, what with that being one-eleventh of his life time so far. This is in comparison to mine; I would tell you exactly what the fraction was, but firstly I'm a lady, and secondly it's ugly to try and watch you try and work it all out on your fingers while I'm talking to you. And frankly, I like your hands where I can see them.

Anyway, we've been talking about Hell. Mostly because he had this mad idea of moving to Croydon, and I had to explain to him in terms he would understand. He told me that he's been taught that Hell is various circles all in tiers that you wouldn't to be in, and I asked him to explain it in terms I would understand, and he said "a Mariah Carey stadium tour" and I nodded sagely and sicked up a little in my mouth.

So I asked him about the Gentlemen Who Are Damned For Liking Scatter Cushions go because, after all, I have a vested interest. He said we may go to the Seventh Circle of Hell, which is one worse than the heretics yet one better than sorcerers. In fact, joining us in the burning desert of our Seventh Circle are the blasphemers, and people who are violent against art (see you there, Tracy Emin). And while our neighbours are destined to lie or sit in the sand, the sodomites are destined to wander around in a group.

I can see a problem with this already.

Basically, they're putting all the gays who indulge in a bit of bum fun together. On what surmounts as a beach.

Some one really didn't think this one through.

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Mustard Gas

The more I think about it, the more I think Britney Spears and my own career is inextricably linked. I mean, all of a sudden, she’s on the up - and I finally have been given something interesting to do in my day job. See? We’re like twins. Well, twins if I looked constantly pregnant and ate frosting out of the carton while my car stopped at red lights, that is. Perhaps I should just get the blonde wig and go all out and offer myself as a lookey-likey, or maybe a high-class prostitute. I wonder if there are many men who’s pay for a fumble with Mz Spears’ gaping accordion? Probably not, when the real one’s offering an all-you-can-eat buffet wherever she opens her legs getting out a car.

Anyway, this interesting new thing is some pitch or other for something to do with the army. All well and good. The problem is, you give the Department Gay some military pictures to play with, and it’s never going to go right. You’re just guaranteed to get something at the end that looks like a Eurocreme cover

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

A Black Sheep Was Born

And so, one night, I tried to explain my Evil Best Declan to Ryan, the new fella - who doing a wonderful job in dealing with the innumerable surreal guest stars that pepper my life. I had to warn him about meeting Declan as Dec was making a royal visit to see his friends in London, an event that normally precedes 40 days and nights of rain. My apologies about that, but at least your garden is getting a nice watering.

Clearly Ryan wanted to know why Declan was referred to as my ‘Evil Best Friend’. So I told him this story from his last visit:

Whilst on the tube, Declan joined a carriage and made a bee-line to an empty seat which, it transpired, was being saved by a portly gentleman for his larger wife who had innumerable shopping bags clutched in her pigs trotters. Declan got there first, of course, and took the seat.

The husband took umbrage at this and turned, saying “Excuse me” to Declan in an irate manner. Declan ignored him. He kept repeating it louder and louder, until Declan did a double-take at his comically red face and just mimed “I’m sorry, I’m deaf” (or actually “Ahm soury – ahm deff”) while waving his arms around in an approximation of sign language. The gentleman next to him bought it, and shut up, somewhat embarrassed.

And things would have gone swimmingly if Declan hadn’t then sat back in his seat, got comfy, and put his iPod on.

In the end, Ryan never got a chance to meet Declan. He actually booked a flight home to Ireland that day, though he still refuses to be drawn on whether it was a coincidence.