New week, same old ‘news’…

Migrants and immigrants get mixed up, Diana steals the red Madeleine typeface as Burrell gets grilled (ouch!), the Free Shit Caravan returns and Madeleine gets a ‘now’ as someone has done something in the ongoing investigation that is booked for Express covers until the end of the century. Zzzz… I would read the ‘homes scandal’ story but as per usual someone forgot to make the Express website contain any actual news (and it’s not in other news sources):

Now even Alanis would think that’s ironic.

The oh-so-mysterious Hercules & Love Affair are another one of my Maybe Next Big Thing things. As they are mysterious I can’t tell you anything about them, no photos to post, no videos, no nuffink. But I do have an mp3 of Blind which only bloody well features Antony Hegarty (but not his Jonhnson(s)) and is a sublime load of modern disco with That Bloody Voice. If you like that, and you really should, here are some remix mp3s courtesy of that Slutty Fringe blog. Ah go on, one of them is from Frankie Knuckles.

Heroes action figures are coming! Oh yes! Let’s have a look…

Oh. Bugger. Maybe I’m being too cruel.

In celebrity news, Digital Spy has revealed a shocking truth about rapper Dizzee Rascal who is neither dizzy (unless you spin him around like a Dead Or Alive song) or particularly rascally. He loves Alex James From Blur’s cheese. ZOMG!

The overrated hippity-hoppity man said: “Yeah, big up him, he gave me some cheese, yeah. He sent me some cheese to check, nuff respect to that… Big up to that, but boy oh boy, it was hard! The best cheese I’ve ever tasted is Laughing Cow innit, what’s that? BabyBel. You know that! It does the job you get me, it does the job!” Oh dear. At least he didn’t think Dairlyea slices were da wickedest cheese, blud, or something.

Day 101 of the Express Maddiethon is not on. It’s over. Phew. Instead of McCanns I thought it would be Diana but they decided to twist a quote from an interview by that man from the muslim council into a ridiculously dodgy racist screaming reactionary headline, thereby proving the point that Dr Muhammad Abdul Bari was trying to make in the first place. Oh the irony, which will be lost on the paper’s readers of course. He didn’t call Britain ‘Nazi’ at all, he just stated that endless heavily negative bias in the media (a certain newspaper being being a prime example) reminded him of a certain 1930s Jew vibe, and mentioned that less binge-drunk slutty behaviour would be a good thing for the country. So The Express go all outraged on him and stir up a load of hatred. Job done, crap paper! Anyway, I’m more concerned by his hair…

I think he’s been taking styling tips off Brucie. Good game.

Did I eat too much cheese before bed or was there really a thing on ITV last night where Kylie Minogue attempted comedy sketches with the annoying little man from all those shows I don’t like, as written by the writers of Channel 4′s Star Stories, which were drenched in canned laughter that still did not point out where the funny bits were? Did she then do loads of musical performances with slightly ropey lip-synching and the worst vision mixing ever known to man? Were there far too many backing dancers totally milking it by jiggling all they they got while painfully emoting to the extent that made normal humans look like Cybermen? That was a horrible dream. What a shame as her new LP’s actually quite good.

More tat for Christmas:

Halliwell’s shame levels are now in the minus numbers.

How about this ‘hilarious’ shit mug? It’s even shitter than the shitting Santa.

Leave it, Halliwell! Just leave it!

It’s Adventure Time!

Blogmeet 2007 was a surpise and a success. The original plan was to meet up with Chris and Kylie while they were in London the day after they went to the gay club that isn’t the one with the attitude and poor musical choices but that plan suddenly grew and grew this morning when I received an email from Jemima who was also in town to meet Bert who lives in town anyway. Luckily we have things called mobile phones in the 21st century so the plan was hastily adapted to include meeting outside a Virgin (the shop, not the lady or man who have not done it yet. They are a rarity round these parts) once I got into London after a trip to Waitrose (coz we is posh) with Wonderful Husband Jamie. Highlights of the supermarket trip included both me and Jamie doing our ‘uurgggh what the hell are you?’ faces at the same time to an orange woman packing her groceries into her shiny 4×4 and she didn’t see the funny side, me feeling like I was in enemy territory with most of the trolleys containing stupid ‘news’papers for stupid people, and Jamie getting all excited about the wide range of cheeses on sale. What joy! I then went to the tube on the other line as our line is on its usual weekend off due to repairs that never end. Only problem was, the other line was in ‘severe delays’ mode. Meh. It wasn’t all that severe in the end and it gave me time to listen to an episode of Doctor Who (co-starring the wonderful Michelle Gomez from the comedies) and a bit of The Go Team. I eventually got to London only to realise, after deciphering the text about looking at Freddie’s fist, that I was at the wrong entrance because I am vague. The laydee needed water so we went on a mission to find water only to find the Virgin Basement Cafe had gone missing. Luckily there was a place down the road selling wet things…

To further kerfuffle the day, Mister Bate and co got the wrong Virgin so we trundled off to the Picadilly Circus one, in the rather sweltering heat, only to find that that too had gone missing. Then I realised that it had replaced Tower Records which had also gone missing. It was like Picadilly Circus at Picadilly Circus! There were rucksacked kids everywhere, like a gay pride march where ‘gay’ had been replaced by ‘rucksack’ and ‘pride’ had been replaced by ‘irritation’ and ‘march’ had been replaced by ‘dawdling.’ We decided on Pizza Hut because everyone likes a bit of cheese, right?

Yummy food and free refills of sugary fizzy pop! What more do a group of childish grown-ups on a day out need?

God we love the cheeseless parmesan substitute and the pizza pot pourri!
As we are geeks we went to lay floral tributes outside Fopp. Then we went on the usual pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet where I bumped into a familiar face…

The dirty knife was a bit of a worry, but then we spotted Ood toys and I almost bought a Mickey Smith action figure with the big gun but it was just too rubbish. Comics were purchased, as was the Phonogram book and Nextwave volume 2 in a lovely hardback form. I needed a wee so it was time for Starbucks and the ‘one toilet for all’ experience!

What do ladies do in the loo that takes so long? Please please tell me now! Is there something I should know?

Blogger Number Five arrived: Bert had finished working on what he works on at work and he had one of those cold drinks that isn’t really coffee. We chatted about coffee, whistling, the perils of blogging about real people, which bloggers we had yet to meet, Top Shop, cheese, zoos, Birmingham, films, badges and other wonderful things.

Then I got the tube home and read my comics and uploaded the photos and wrote all this nonsense. What a perfect day, but without feeding animals in the park and without the heroin.

This post was brought to you by the following blogs:
Project76

Imitation Of Life

My Citrus Sarcophagus

Christopher Bate Propaganda

Kylie’s Giant Tree of Disco Shrews

I wanna have some fun.

And I am.

I’m having a nice cup of tea and then I’m going to watch some more Battlestar Galactica.

Meanwhile, in 1989, Smamfa Fox (as she was known) is flinging everything into a big musical pot, stirring it up and poruing it out all over YooHooTube.
Shots of her ample bossoms? Check!
Scratchy samples of Loleatta Holloway? Check!
All those other samples from 1989 used again? Check!
(Sadly no funky drummer, “ah yeah” or Jungle Book)
Full Force on some steps? Check!
Dodgy white socks? Check!
Slightly ropey vocals? Check!
Cockernee talky bits? Check!
Kissing a man on a motorbike? Check!

Marvellous. Her tits were real (remember the old days when nobody did odd surgical things to themselves?) and now she’s a great big lesbian.