Posts filed under 'Celebrities'
Top Searches
About a year ago I wrote a post commenting on the strange searches that people had used to find my site – you can read about it here.
Well, I am glad to say that I still seem to be popular with a certain demographic. Today’s top ten searches were:
- Kat Deeley (note the American spelling thereof)
- Louise Minchin stockings
- Claudia Winkleman nude
- Anthea Turner
- Kylie Minogue nu-di-ty (why the hyphens?)
- Poppy Appeal
- Banana Splits
- Cat Deeley nude
- Nude celebrities
- Christine Bleakley nude
While I personally am disappointed at the demise of Sally James in school uniform, I guess this at least explains the success of Celebrity Strictly Come Dancing and Dancing With The Stars. Methinks it also provides a certain insight into the inner thoughts of men in their mid-forties. Dirty boys!
If you have found this post through one of these searches please feel free to use the search box top right to find the specific post you are looking for. Knock yourself out! 
Add comment November 6, 2009
Michael Jackson RIP
Now I know that there’s not much to do in Bridgend, Wales, on a wet summer’s day but come on! There was something wrong with the reaction of two middle-aged Welsh ladies when Sky News gave them free tickets to the Michael Jackson Memorial Concert this morning – read about it here. They acted like eleven year old girls at a Take That concert.
I simply do not understand all the adulation. Yes he was a good singer. Yes he was a fantastic dancer. And, yes, he was a brilliant performer. But, despite his Jesus-like performance at the 1996 Brit Awards (God bless you Jarvis Cocker – see it here), and to quote Monty Python, he was “not the Messiah” but “a very naughty boy!” This is a person who blew a large fortune. This is a person who, allegedly, abused his body with prescription pills. This is a person who definitely abused his body through surgery. This is a person who seemingly could not accept his colour or the ageing process. This is a person who, at best, acted inappropriately with small boys. Hardly a role model.
I am always amazed how the public adore those of us who are most flawed. Michael Jackson has received Jade Goody cum Princess Diana-like adulation since his sad and untimely death. I am just hoping that today’s funeral and the Memorial Concert will be the end of it. And, I hope that someone is looking after the giraffes at Neverland.
Michael, thanks for the music and I hope that, now, they’ll let you rest in peace.
One very strange side-effect of poor Michaels’ demsie is the number of people who appear to be finding my blog using the search “La Toya Jackson nude” or “La Toya Jackson naked”…..glad to see the real fans are still out there!
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12 comments July 7, 2009
Where do they find them?
Now don’t get me wrong, I am all in favour of more Davina McCall on our TV sets, but, the return of Big Brother 10 is both compelling and appalling. Where do they get their candidates from? Are we truly that unintelligent as a nation?
Take last night when Karly (Scottish glamour model who likes to parade around in as little as possible and stand around on chairs a lot in the absence of a podium or pole) got involved in a discussion about languages. Karly declared that she spoke a bit of German and found the German language easier than others because they were grammatically the same (they say things in the same order). And, this was all because the Nazis had come here during the second world war! What? When? Who?
While she may have been correct about a shared origin of the two languages I think she will find that she was about fifteen hundred years or so out of time (unless you count such words as “hamburger” and the advertising slogan “Vorsprung durch Technik” and the fact that the “Queen’s English” is spoken by someone who used to be part of the Saxe-Coburg-Gotha dynastic line).
She was also incorrect about the grammatical similarities. Now it is a long, long, time since I passed my German “O-Level” (these were exams that we had in the 1980s before the onset of GCSEs. The main difference being that “O-Levels” were actually worth something ) but I seem to remember something about a German grammar rule of Time, Manner, Place which meant that the English sentence “I went to school early yesterday” would be written in German as “Yesterday, early to school went I”, or, in Karly’s case “I didn’t”.
Surely this will go down alongside Jade Goody’s (RIP) assertion that Norfolk was “abroad”……..
Mind you, it is not just reality TV contestants that seem to be lacking in grey matter. I recently endured a long flight from Manchester to Corfu during which the couple sat behind me demonstrated a complete lack of Geography “that must be France down there” topped off by the statement, on hearing that we had begun our decent to Corfu, that “Good. It’ll start getting warmer on the plane now!” And, I thought most planes were equipped with something akin to air-conditioning……
Thank goodness for Davina.
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1 comment June 10, 2009
Jade’s Back In BB (Big Brother)
This was the headline in today’s Daily Star Comic (it has more pictures than words; the words are in very big type and most are monosyllabic; and, the most common colour is “skin”). According to the Daily Rag:
“Big Brother bosses want one of Jade Goody’s closest pals to star in the new series so her “fantastic spirit can live on for ever in the house”.”
So, not just cashing in then?
I am sorry but what is it with this new Cult of Jade Goody? She seems to have eclipsed even Princess Diana. The Sun (more successful comic than the Star, with bigger and better breasts) has a whole page of their on-line site dedicated to Jade:
http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/showbiz/tv/jade_goody/
I am sure that Big Brother doesn’t have to worry though. I am fairly certain that they will not have to make do with just friends of the Essex girl. Of course they could wait for that elusive window of opportunity and film the show on the rare occasion that her husband, Jack Tweed, is out of jail. If they also filled the house with 16 year old boys and taxi drivers for Jack to beat up I am sure that the ratings would be out of this world. But no, I am fairly sure that Big Brother will somehow manage to get Jade back in person. Not through some Jurassic Park type experiment in DNA. Not through cloning – surely that would hasten the end of the human race as the average household pet would have a higher IQ.
No. Given the overwhelming emotion and energy that surrounds the Cult of Jade, I am fairly certain that this Easter weekend will see the Second Coming of Jade. She is sure to rise from the dead and take her rightful place at the right hand of Davina McCall.
Please, please, please let the girl Rest In Peace……….and give the rest of us a break at the same time.
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5 comments April 8, 2009
Celebrity Big Brother Fixed?
Now, I have long since been a fan of the, sadly, now faded talents and charms of Ulrika Jonsson (see here)……..
And, I am very glad indeed that the American contingent did not win (see here)………
But, how on Earth did Ulrika do it?!? She was booed throughout the evening by the in-studio audience. She had been up for nominations so many times. She was so up herself, arrogant, glum, and often a bit rude throughout the three weeks. And, quite frankly, she looks like my grandma…….
Even she muttered the word “fix” when the result was announced. Channel Four, shame on you!
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3 comments January 26, 2009
Strictly Cum Dancing
Last night I saw my first Strictly Come Dancing programme (the UK version of Dancing With The Stars) . It was not the Saturday night show, or the Sunday night results show (which is apparently also filmed on the Saturday after Tess changes her dress) , but the daily Strictly Come Dancing – It Takes Two programme hosted by the easy-on-the-eye Claudia Winkleman. Boy you would hope that she doesn’t “grow up” to look like her mother!
We put it on at the request of J from next door who had popped round to drop of C’s birthday present – she is 39 today – and who stayed for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc on the understanding that she could not miss the show. She being the programme’s self-confessed greatest of fans. To be honest she is just a sucker for any half-toned rugby player in a cummerbund!
How does the BBC get away with this? Is this the best of public service broadcasting? It seems to me that the show is pervasive. Every BBC news bulletin on the TV or radio seems to reference the latest voting dilemma or bullying incident. The show is featured on every episode of the One Show. The tabloids are full of it. There have even been questions asked in Parliament regarding whether it is legitimate that John Sergeant, who dances, well, like me (i.e. badly), should be kept in the “competition” by the public vote when, in the end, it is supposed to be a dancing competition. And is just me or does anyone else think that John Sergeant is really Jo Brand in a tux? Has anyone seen that pair in the same room? Surely those two were separated at birth……
For me the only redeeming aspects to the show are Tess Daly, (a truly well put together lady), Claudia and Christine Bleakley. Incidentally we got a double dose of Christine last night – no sooner had she finished her interview with Claudia on BBC2 than she was hosting the One Show on BBC1, and talking about the show again. Does anyone know more about her alleged affair with co-present Adrian Chiles?
But I also recognise its ability to cross the divide. Last night Claudia asked Four Puffs and A Piano what they liked about the programme. Hmmm? What on Earth could four gay men find alluring about men in tight fitting trousers I wonder?!? Presumably the BBC must have the Four Puffs on a retainer. Seeing as they aren’t doing the Jonathan Ross show at the mo then the BBC are obviously keen to get their money’s worth. Or should that be our money’s worth.
Surely there is something more interesting to talk about? Can the judges truly be accused of bullying? Can the great British public continue to waste its money voting for the Serge? Is this the best spend of our license fee money? Answers on a postcard please.
4 comments November 19, 2008
Happy Days
So, Blue Peter has been celebrating its 50th anniversary as one of the world’s longest running Children’s TV programme……Well, I was always more of a Magpie man myself. BBC was always a little posh and keen to educate in my formative years and I seemed to prefer the allure of Jenny Hanley over Lesley Judd. And, who can blame me? Give me a Hammer Girl over a ballet dancer any day
But, the anniversary has prompted me to think back to those halcyon days of 1970s and early 1980s TV. I never really bothered about Blue Peter until Sarah Greene. Well, why would I? But, I did find Sarah and the likes of Janet Ellis could be a little diverting in the late afternoon. And to be honest, John Noakes apart, the male presenters were always a little dodgy. Peter Duncan, John Leslie – need I say more?
In my day, as a kid, you took TV as it came. Which wasn’t often. Breakfast TV didn’t start until 1983. When I was very young (or occasionally ill) I would walk home from junior school for lunch and take in the occasional Mr Benn, Trumpton, Camberwick Green, Tales of the Riverside, or, Pipkins, with that truly irritating Brummie hare!
Animation and cartoons were pretty rubbish – who could ever get their head around Noggin the Nog or understand what on Earth (or whatever their volcanic, hollow planet was called) the Clangers were on about? The American imports were always so much better. I used to fancy Penelope Pitstop. These were the days of Dastardly and Muttley, the Harlem Globetrotters and the Jackson 5 – back in the days when the only children that Michael Jackson shared his bed withwere his own brothers! (How did he ever get away with it?)
The home grown stuff was pretty rock n’ roll though, alegedly full of drugs and sexual innuendo. Just take Zebedee in the Magic Roundabout or the whole mythology built around Captain Pugwash with Seaman Staines, Master Bates, and Roger the Cabin Boy. None of it is true you know.
Sundays were dull. These were the days when TV schedulers believed that children should be sat around the Sunday dinner table with the family and playing in the park. It was so bad that you would look forward to Songs of Praise. No, actually, it was never that bad. There was always the Adentures of Black Beauty. It was always a bit girlie but at least there was Judy Bowker. The Christmas holidays were long, with only black and white Tarzan movies (Johnny Weissmuller) or Flash Gordon (Steve Holland) to accompany your home-made mince pie breakfasts. The summer holidays would have been unbearable without the Banana Splits and their friends – the Three Musketeers, the Arabian Nights and Danger Island.
Kids today? You don’t know what you are missing. What are your favourite TV shows from way back then?
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8 comments October 17, 2008
Kill Bill 3
I awoke a little grumpily this morning.
In part this was due to sleep deprivation – the weather here in the north west of England has been uncommonly hot the last couple of days. Now, I am (unusally) not complaining but the evenings have been very warm and muggy. Despite dispensing with duvets and despite opening windows, the last two nights sleep have been brief and fretful. Mind you, the rather dramatic thunder and lightening at 03.40 this morning didn’t help.
That said, the return of Bill Turnbull to the BBC Breakfast News Sofa alongside foxy Sian Williams helped my mood not at all. Why can’t he just retire gracefully? In a kind of smarmy, fey, quite camp and irritating kind of grace that is.
Bill’s return coincided with the Parliamentary Recess to deliver yet another morning session bereft of meaningful news stories. Again, it is official, absolutely nothing of any importance is going on, absolutely anywhere on this planet of ours, or the surrounding universes (unless you believe all the recent white noise about aliens living amongst us and UFOs and conspiracy theories and the like).
Instead, the whole morning was filled with tales of gingerbread men in the shape of Cristiano Ronaldo, and a seemingly blatant advertisement for a male cosmetic firm trying to convince us that we hot-blooded men should be wearing eyeliner and mascara (or Guyliner and Manscara as it is wittingly branded). Of course, the “I’m not at all camp” Bill was all too reluctantly willing to try this out!
There was also the non-story about Carol Kirkwood, the must-have morning crumpet of choice for middle aged men (whose attention turns to Carol Vorderman in the afternoon and the female presenters of The One Show in the evening – Christine Bleakely, Myleene Klaas, Ellie Harrison, Lucy Siegle and Angellica Bell), not camping in Burnham-on-Sea. Despite looking pretty windswept, the supposed “joke” was that Carol actually stayed in a luxury chalet rather than under canvas.
Nevertheless, Carol found time to feed those sexual fantasies with tales of her time in the girl guides. I suspect that she still has a uniform. A very tight-fitting uniform. Also, it provided an opportunity for Carol to flirt with her “Billy” as she calls him and for banter implying that Carol and Chris Mullin, the sports presenter with whom Carol spent Ascot week and Wimbledon with, knew rather too much about each other – Chris implied that Carol snored and Carol implied that Chris had sweaty feet!
And, the visit to Burnham-on-Sea, conjured up images of past relationships/holidays which I would rather regret. Burnham is probably the closest seaside resort to the city of Birmingham. It is, therefore, also full of Brummies. And, when I was just 17 years old, this is where I went on holiday with my first serious girlfriend, Melissa, and her family. When I say “serious” she was the first girl that let me get further than base one – and, in case my mom is reading I am not admitting which base I got to, but……..
I slept in the awning with the family dog, while Melissa slept in the caravan with her mom, dad and younger sister. Thankfully her two scary brothers – one a night club bouncer and the other a convicted GBHer – didn’t join us.
It was not the most enjoyable holiday experience that I had. In fact it was right up there with the twin centre holiday to Sorrento and Rome when I got ditched by my fiancee, who subsequently admitted to having an affair with a married man with three children. This is what Bill Turnbill does to me, the swine. All this emotional turmoil just comes flooding back. And, Burnham is a dump.
Please BBC. Kill Bill.
11 comments July 29, 2008
Sting in the Tale
It’s a pun. If not very punny…..
On Tuesday evening this week I took C to see The Police in concert at the Manchester Evening News Arena. This would not have been my first choice for a concert, but it was a birthday wish for C, a life long Police fan who had, unfortunately, managed to avoid seeing them live in their hay days of the 70s and 80s. And she fancies Sting. She fancies Sting big time.
As it happens, the concert was 8 months late. It had been postponed on the original date because Sting had a sore throat. Bless. This added to my general dislike of the guy, putting him firmly in the camp of wuss/big girl’s blouse. This, being just one of the labels that I have tagged onto Mr Gordon Sumner - “Destroyer of the Planet” (we could not visit the amphitheatre at Ephesus in Turkey because it had been deemed unsafe due to the cracks allegedly caused by the Sting concert there, ironically as part of his “Save the Planet Tour” with that indian guy with the big lips) and “Pillock”, for being oh so up himself with his bloody medieval lute playing palaver……
Actually, I think I just dislike the guy because C (and millions of other fanciable women who should only have eyes for yours truly) fancies him. Indeed, we have a clause in our wedding contract that allows C to leave me, with no hard feelings, (and no alimony) should she and Sting get it together. So Tuesday was quite a high risk event for me personally. I have a reciprocal clause, however, which allows me to leave in the much more likely event that I get it on with Kylie Minogue. Sex on a stick. And, I have come so close already. Well, I almost got her telephone number. Almost…..
It was beginning to feel like fate was about to deal a strange card when I noticed that the sex kitten herself was coming to the MEN in July. I hadn’t booked tickets (her vocal capabilities are not exactly what attracts me to her) but I did think that it would be a useful fall back position should the evening not go so well and I was forced to leave C with the Sting.
And so, we set off for Manchester fairly early in order to secure a parking place at the venue. Sat Nav delivered us to the very (barriered) steps of the Arena, and I then had to resort to “the Force” (it was not with me) and the scarce brown tourist signs to find the entrance to the car park. Unfortunately this meant that we were some 10 minutes or so later and we ended up on the 7th floor.
After a quick cigarette outside – I think C was just “hanging” in case Sting walked past – we joined the queue and soon found ourselves on the inside. C went to the loo while I ordered two pints of watered lager in plastic glasses. Consumption of the lager prompted a second toilet visit for C before we took our seats (which were excellent) and waited for the support act. We waited and we waited and we waited. They were 45 minutes late.
But, the delay did not cause our spirits to flag. We people watched. We actually felt very young and fashionable compared with our fellow concert goers, many of whom were stuck in 1979 or so. We also wondered why so many people felt it necessary to wear sunglasses indoors. If nothing else, it must be a health and safety issue on the steep stairs. We also mocked the rather too many people who were picking up leaflets for the 50th Anniversary Cliff Richard Time Mchine Tour. Well, at least when he’s in Manchester he is not troubling small boys in South Africa
We were pleased to note that the support act was not in fact Sting’s son’s band as it had been scheduled to be back in October. The support group was very good. While I did, tentatively, identify them as Starsailor, it was clear that their identity was lost on most of the middle-agers in the. At least my “hip” and “cool” credentials were intact. I am positively “down” with them “man”.
And, I have to say that The Police were, well, awesome. Sting is a much better vocalist than I had imagined…..and looks far too good for his age, the git. Actually, I have to say that he seems to have gone for a very striking bearded look not unlike my own! If you forgive his sweaty armpits and the rather too many twiddly guitar solos from Andy Summers, it was very, very good indeed.
After several encores we left rather later than expected. As all the eateries were closed, we returned to the car and joined the long queue to exit the car park It took about 45 minutes or so and by the time we exited the Sat Nav was very, very confused…..
Sorry Kylie, maybe next time.
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4 comments June 19, 2008
