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

Friday, October 31, 2008

Out of Control

So I have a long standing belief that Nicola from Girls Aloud is a robot. An evil cyborg from the future who will insist that every band has a member with dead, shark-like eyes, and the grace of a giraffe on roller skates during any dance routine in a video. You know that bit in 'Blade Runner', where Rachel introduces Deckard to the fake owl? I imagine that is what happens whenever Nicola is wheeled out before record executives:

"Do you like our Nicola?"
"It's artificial?"
"Of course it is."
"Must be expensive."
"You'd be surprised."

Anyway the reason why I bring this up is that Girls Aloud have a new album out and it's all... well, a bit mechanical. I've long known that I'm about five degrees out with the population's tastes as a whole - for one, why oh why do you all find mimsy covergirl Zac Effron so attractive? He looks like a skinned chicken sponsored by Rimmel. I mean I've seen corpses with more discrete make-up jobs. But I digress - new Girls Aloud! I should be doing cartwheels around the bar but I'm sitting with my arms folded, willing to be impressed, rather like my mother when I bring yet another gentleman caller home for Christmas and say that "I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him and he's my one true love." Poor woman's has found those electronic photo frames an utter godsend - she no longer has to pop down to Jessops to develop a new snap of someone who probably won't make it past the twelth day of Christmas. I can just email her a photo of the Current Mrs Binding, and as an added bonus, can have some shots of Lee Majors circa 'The Fall Guy' on rotate too, bless her.

Anyway! Five degrees out. I usually listen to an album and think 'oh yes, that'd make a good single' and whatnot and am constantly proved wrong by the music industry. So perhaps this new commercial sound is a good thing? Building on their success of 'Call the Shots' (again a song I could take or leave but the general public thought it was great). But that's the rub - I've never liked Girls Aloud for their professionalism, hence why I'm so obsessed with Nicola. I don't want polished songs, I want them clattering down Chippy Alley at 3am and smelling of Babycham and regret. Take the cover for instance:

The album is called 'Out of Control' and look at them! They're going WILD in that clean, white room, aren't they? Ho, they're utterly shameless! Nicola has got her feet on a chair! Get your cyborg hooves off that nice dining room chair, NicolaBot! You're utterly out of control!

So. I'm 15 times through the album and not that struck, and still recovering from the realisation that the "Promise I made, promise I made, starting to fade, starting to fade" bit of their current single is actually the theme tune to 'Blankety Blank'. I keep going back to it in the vain hope I'm wrong, and that there is some stand-out track that will cheer me. Sigh. Instead they should have just let (INCOMING GEEKY GALACTICA REFERENCE) Nicola just cover 'All Along The Watchtower' and be done with it.

I do have to be a little careful about what I write about my favorite foursome and their mechanical friend after one blogger is up in court for writing about killing them on some porn site. Ahaha. As if I'd do that.

The Sugababes, whereas...

Have a good Halloween, all.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Not Intended For Purpose

I'm loving playing Lego Batman on my Wii.

Although the best bit of it is getting little Lego Batman to the top of the Lego cathedral and pretending we're playing little Lego 'Fathers 4 Justice'.

Friday, October 17, 2008

A Quick Catch-Up

My apologies for not being around for a while - but as you can see when you almost tripped over my crayons and round-ended scissors, that I've been up to my delectable eyebrows in work. Most vexing as the world kept throwing things at me I wanted to bring to your attention! How cruel is that!

Alright then: lets get it off our chests (as I once said to one of the leads in 'Lord of the Rings' after the incident) Madge and Guy. Were you surprised? I don't think anyone was surprised. I mean I've had some shocks in my life: the price of Creme de Mer, the fact that one of Coldplay is actually hot... this fact alone almost made me drop a dumbbell on my gorgeous stack-heeled flip-flop at the gym. I mean, here they are, Coldplay, cheerleaders for the lung-deflating bland, and they have someone like Guy Berryman in their midst. I mean, hello. The problem with this is that if you even deign to pleasure yourself to one of their videos (heaven forfend, but lets say your hard drive crashed under the sheer weight of Cazzo downloads, the Grattan catalogue is weeks late and someone cancelled the subsription to the men's volleyball channel in favour of Smash Hits Video... which in retrospect was probably you) we are talking serious Masturbation Roulette. I mean, one heavily-edited video and one second you're fwapping one out to Guy and the next you're confronted with that Martin fellow. Who just looks boring. How does he do that? He's going out with Gwyneth Paltrow, is worth millions, and is part of one of the biggest British bands in years. But still looks dull. Incredible! And also - also - his teeth. You can't be rubbing one out when confronted with those. Goodness. He looks like he could eat an apple through a letterbox from the other side of the door.

Anyway! I'm getting off the main point (good coffee this). Madge and Guy! Bless them. I don't know that much about them as people, despite Madge insisting that we know everything about her. I mean, there was a time in 1992 around the time of 'Erotica' and 'In Bed With Madonna' and 'Sex' that I think I knew her drip tray with more inimacy than my own area. And please bear in mind that I was a fledgling Gentleman Who Was Learning Skincare with a whole stack of Gratan Catalogues to stick together. You couldn't move for seeing her minky staring down at you in some Orwellian manner from the sky - like the Goodyear blimp with more miles on the clock. So it always makes me laugh whenever the publicist tacks on the end of the press release of a divorce 'and we hope that the press respects our privacy.' Ha!

So I shall correct myself - I don't know much about them as a couple, although I have to say, but I did sit through 'Swept Away' once, and if two people are responsible for bringing that into the world, then clearly they shouldn't be allowed within 500 foot of each other. What are their kids like? Anyone know? I've only seen pictures of Lordes (indeed, I do cry 'Good Lord-es!' whenever I see her: yeesh, you'd do something about the moustache and monobrow wouldn't you? I mean, she can't not see it, could she? Even if all the mirrors in her mansion were made of coal you'd still be able to see that she was closer to a member of Oasis than her strange grandma-mother).

So Madge and Guy, farewell. I have no idea what you're going to do, mister. But I bet your ex-wife is going to do something typically low-key and private about it. Like two new albums, a documentary, a new book and a world tour. Aparently she's already banging some sports person (someone mentioned what it was, but you know me - gay. Can't tell one end of the sports hall from the rest. Could have been football. Could have been hockey. Could have been ice-skating. They all blur into one for me). That poor man. I mean, Madge has been around the block... no, lets not hide this in euphemisms. Madge is a whore. And this guy now has to try and slip his meat into her leathery area. Which, after all this time, must be like opening the window and fucking the night.

And while we're on the subject of fucking, we have someone attacking the beautiful act of two (or usually more) men going at it like knives: The Rev Peter Mullen insists that gay men get a tattoo on their ass saying that 'Sodomy damages your health'.



Bwahahhaaaa! How brilliant! So basically, he wants gay men to identify themselves to members of the public..? I don't think he's throught this through. I mean, gay men want to stand out! And if we start identifying ourselves to each other, it's just going to be easier to shag! How funny.

And 'Sodomy damages your health'? Clearly he's doing it wrong. Indeed, if he wants to tattoo everyone who's had their muck spread, he's in for some trouble. I mean, I didn't think priests should have tattoos...

Have a good weekend, won't you.

Monday, October 06, 2008


Every now and again, something happens that makes me think that the rest of the human race has been using old thermometers as drinking straws, and that I'm the only sane one amongst you. You see, there's this new tv show called 'Fringe' on, and I think it's nonsense. Not good nonsense, like 'The Sarah Connor Chronicles'. But bad nonsense. Like 'Charmed'. And yet the reviews and ratings... people like it?

Now, I have a bit of a soft spot for the show's creator JJ Abrams as he was responsible for 'Alias', a show of infinite entertainment and - more importantly - infinite costume changes. Oh yes, I know what I like. Meanwhile "the show will jump the shark early and often," Abrams has been heard to say. I'm inclined to believe him, in fact the show starts in mid air over said shark, gaily waving pom-poms and grinning at the camera like a Girl wot has Gone Wild. Personally, I ran the gamut of emotions while watching it, all the way from boredom to anger and back again. To whit...

Things I Took Against:

* Intrusive floating styrofoam letters telling me where the stock footage was from.

* The woman playing Scully having a voice-over voice. You know, one that sounds like every time she speaks, she should be selling me something that would give me a new lease on life like dramatically-reshaped tampons.

* The conspiracy arc introduced in such an half-arsed lazy way. It just had the stench of being one of Those Type of Shows, so I was tapping my teeth, waiting for its arrival. I would have gotten on with it a lot better if there wasn't one, where Scully had been going "There must be a conspiracy! All shows like this have a conspiracy!" and the Haitian going "No, no. No idea what you're on about. This is just a freak accident, love" and whistling through his gappy teeth.

* The whole first ep is meant to take place over two days. So, she flies to Iraq and back, breaks a guy out of a mental asylum, sets up a lab, takes LSD, saves the human race and uncovers a conspiracy. Sheesh, imagine what she's like when she's not so tired.

* People who are in loving relationships in the first episode of a show must know they have signed their own death warrant by saying "I love you" in the first act. Or turn out to be evil. So pity Scully's boyfriend who gets to do one, then the other, then back again.

* Lazy, lazy characterization. "She's fiesty! He's bumbling! He's mad and wants a cow!"

* What does JJ Abrams have against planes?

Things I didn't Take Against:

* Joshua Jackson in this variation figure looks familiar to me. Not sure why, although I think he looks like someone who either goes to my gym, or I've had sex with. The two are clearly interchangeable in my addled mind.

Personally, I shan't be watching again. Unless there's more costume changes, naturally.

Friday, October 03, 2008

Utter Genius

I have to say that, as much as I hate kowtowing to Apple, that peddler of smug tupperware, I am loving their Genius function in the new iTunes at the minute.

Well, when I say 'new', you can't actually log on these days before them offering you an update, so I can't tell you which one it is - I assume its Version 8-point-Last-Tuesday. Basically, this edition gives you the option to create playlists based around a song. Oh yes, I'll just let you assimilate that... you can create a whole playlist around a song. Or more correctly, a whole playlist around Girls Aloud's 'Sexy? No No No...'! Claps like a lesbina at a Be-Good Tanya concert. Do I spy Baccara, followed by The RAH Band? Why yes, yes I do! How utterly marvelous! This is the best invention since anal sex!

What? Well some people like it. In my experience, anal sex is very much like spinach: if you were forced it as a kid, you'll hate it now.

Anyway, iTunes! Clearly, it wouldn't be me unless I'd tried to break it, would it. So I started throwing all manner of nonsense in its direction to see whether I can befuddle its tiny computer brain. But nooooo, even when I handed it some obscure Ukranian Eurovision hit from a bygone age, it delivered. Actually, it not only delivered, it gave me 25 other things from my iTunes I'd barely even heard of with a typically smug 'ta-da!'. Honestly, it turned my playlist into something found buzzing out of a radio in the backroom of an illegal Turkish taxi rank at 3am. You know, the music you hear as you look up through the smoky haze to see three other mustachioed men with cracked fingernails languidly undoing their belt buckles.

Well, you know me. Anything to get out of paying full fare.

So. This wonder-program has also been recommending me things to buy too, and I was halfway to the iTunes Store before I realised that a) I'd stumbled into their commercial trap and b) I'd only clicked through because I'd thought the guy in the thumbnail was fit. What? I'm a man, I have needs! And its not my fault that I didn't get the memo: I mean, when did the lead singer of Kings of Leon get to hot anyway? He's all beard and mumbling and flinty eyes. And those charming sticky-out ears I'm now referring to as 'love-handles', if you get my drift. He looks like the type who gets confused by too many colours, numbers and shapes, so he'd be perfect for a game of my patent Gay Strip Poker. Which is just like ordinary strip poker, only because its gay, the queens are wild and the straights don't count.

Have a good weekend, everybody.