It’s been a hell of a journey, Take That. And since Robbie left, I’ve been with you every step of the way.
Robbie was always too hungry to be the ‘misunderstood’ one. Like he was going through something the rest of them weren’t. The puppy-dog eyes he uses to make him look ‘cute’ which in actual fact make me either want to slap his face, or tear my eyes out just so I don't have to look at him.
So it’s with some surprise that I find myself falling in love with his reunion with Gary – once famously the biggest bust-up of all.
Set as a mock-western the two gents reminisce over a lost friendship over a back-tingler of a guitar riff. Robbie looks actually truly sorry and Gary looks handsome and rugged – a nice turnaround for the old friends. There's no sense of humour failure in this little number.
Perhaps if they can put their differences behind them then I can give Robbie a go. After all, he’s simply ‘misunderstood’, remember?
Thursday 26 August 2010
Tuesday 24 August 2010
A staycation with benefits
Well we didn't see that coming.
Just as the ConLibs turned down £millions in convergance funding, leaving Cornwall pretty much on it's knees, David Cameron and his lovely wife Samantha not only took a staycation here, they went and had a baby at Treliske!
Dave of the Cam says it's a lovely hospital (sure, but how much did you pay to park?) and he thanked the staff for "putting them at ease."
There's no special VIP room at Treliske, you see. The Cams went straight to a 'Parents' room' which is pretty much where every other Tom, Dick and Harrietta get put. Sam was in at 8am and the little girl arrived by c-section (too posh...?) at noon.
The illegal smokers outside all cheered (we presume).
Cornish baby Cameron. What will the nationalists think?
Mr C said as the baby was born "on the right side of the Tamar" (now you're talking, Dave) he was "open to suggestions" for a Cornish middle name.
Someone on our Facebook page suggested Ginsters. I like Bronnen. It means 'a rush', because she was certainly in one, not being due until September.
What are your Cornish name suggestions for our Prime Minister's new baby girl arrival?
Just as the ConLibs turned down £millions in convergance funding, leaving Cornwall pretty much on it's knees, David Cameron and his lovely wife Samantha not only took a staycation here, they went and had a baby at Treliske!
Dave of the Cam says it's a lovely hospital (sure, but how much did you pay to park?) and he thanked the staff for "putting them at ease."
There's no special VIP room at Treliske, you see. The Cams went straight to a 'Parents' room' which is pretty much where every other Tom, Dick and Harrietta get put. Sam was in at 8am and the little girl arrived by c-section (too posh...?) at noon.
The illegal smokers outside all cheered (we presume).
Cornish baby Cameron. What will the nationalists think?
Mr C said as the baby was born "on the right side of the Tamar" (now you're talking, Dave) he was "open to suggestions" for a Cornish middle name.
Someone on our Facebook page suggested Ginsters. I like Bronnen. It means 'a rush', because she was certainly in one, not being due until September.
What are your Cornish name suggestions for our Prime Minister's new baby girl arrival?
The Beginning of the End
To steal the words of a legend: This. Is. It.
This season, and indeed all seasons, will end and a grand finale will begin.
Will Davina find a closet with some colour in it? Will Josie walk at the prospect at another fortnight without her mucker, (LOVING this) internet sensation John James?
Are these predictions correct? And will former fresh-faced 'celeb' winner Chantelle be recognisable since her fake fame became real fame (and misfortune)?
I've already had several excited emails from my best mate in Londres - separated by pesky distance we will share the experience the new-age way - via text message. Most of these, I predict, will begin with 'OMG....'
Follow the live blog tonight...
This season, and indeed all seasons, will end and a grand finale will begin.
Will Davina find a closet with some colour in it? Will Josie walk at the prospect at another fortnight without her mucker, (LOVING this) internet sensation John James?
Are these predictions correct? And will former fresh-faced 'celeb' winner Chantelle be recognisable since her fake fame became real fame (and misfortune)?
I've already had several excited emails from my best mate in Londres - separated by pesky distance we will share the experience the new-age way - via text message. Most of these, I predict, will begin with 'OMG....'
Follow the live blog tonight...
Monday 23 August 2010
An X Factor thirst quencher
Apart from spending the whole of Saturday night's show worrying that Cheryl was going to collapse from malaria at any moment I thoroughly being back in the bosom of my Saturday night #guiltypleasure viewing.
Guest host Geri Halliwell was a stroke of genius with her 'I don't know if she knows it but I picked Cheryl" aka "I made you famous, beatch, you owe me everything" and incessant wittering.
She's a pint sized bomb of female feistiness and as much as I'd love to hate her as I do for the same fame-woe-is-me annoyance as Robbie Williams I just can't.
G & S (Gay and Straight, which ended up just, well, straight) had my other half with his head actually in his hands complaining "I actually can't watch" as I cried with delight. Sob-story-turned-success-story x 1000 later I'd just about quenched my X Factor thirst.
But now we have Xtra. Xtra Blue Peter that it. Konnie, let's be honest, was a bit lacklustre and the reviews since have been less than polite. She looked a little bewildered didn't she? I was surprised she didn't faint during a cringe-inducing interview with her highness Cheryl of Cole. Or is it Tweedy now? Hard to keep up.
Anyway - who's got time to watch Xtra Factor these days while Big Brother's still on?
Guest host Geri Halliwell was a stroke of genius with her 'I don't know if she knows it but I picked Cheryl" aka "I made you famous, beatch, you owe me everything" and incessant wittering.
She's a pint sized bomb of female feistiness and as much as I'd love to hate her as I do for the same fame-woe-is-me annoyance as Robbie Williams I just can't.
G & S (Gay and Straight, which ended up just, well, straight) had my other half with his head actually in his hands complaining "I actually can't watch" as I cried with delight. Sob-story-turned-success-story x 1000 later I'd just about quenched my X Factor thirst.
But now we have Xtra. Xtra Blue Peter that it. Konnie, let's be honest, was a bit lacklustre and the reviews since have been less than polite. She looked a little bewildered didn't she? I was surprised she didn't faint during a cringe-inducing interview with her highness Cheryl of Cole. Or is it Tweedy now? Hard to keep up.
Anyway - who's got time to watch Xtra Factor these days while Big Brother's still on?
Thursday 19 August 2010
Advertising as we never wanted it
It's my most hated TV advertising campaign ever.
This coming from a child of the advertising age - someone who would flee waving jazz hands to Boots whenever I saw a girl on tv advertising a product making her hair looked slightly thicker or more enriched than my own.
It's BTs 'trapped in their own lives' celebrity couple. You know. The will-they-won't they couple who have none of the sex appeal of Milk Tray yet none of the charm of the Bisto family.
They nearly broke up once. But damn the British public - we actually COMPLAINED to BT until the couple, despite his moving to Cornwall (happens to the best of us), announced their engagement. Today, dear reader, they announce they are pregnant after we voted in our millions *faint* to make it such. Strike us down, for we have sinned.
The options on the BT.com vote were only a) pregnant or b) not pregnant - a girlfriend of mine lamented at tea break that there wasn't an option c) stomach-popping alien.
Doesn't the fact she needs more than he can provide worry anyone? Doesn't the fact her maturity and responsibilities far outweighed his once happy-go-lucky lifestyle? Or are BT doing something far more worrying - telling us that this is what life is like?
Expect the minimal and you'll never be disappointed. The Katie Price 'kids from divorced parents get more presents and holidays so it must be better' (and a cool step-Dad like Kris Marhsall) mentality. I can tell you - this isn't what second families of Britain look like - I can vouch for that.
In an 'I wish I was them' ad campaign these people would be more beautiful (Sorry Esther), less complicated, more likeable. In a reality ad-campaign there would be screaming 'you're not my father' fits from the step-children, complicated cross-over family events with the children’s Dad, money and housing troubles born from the legalities of the previous separation and a few more anxiety fights between the couple.
So there you have it, BT. Please make them either miserable or beautiful. Not grey.
This coming from a child of the advertising age - someone who would flee waving jazz hands to Boots whenever I saw a girl on tv advertising a product making her hair looked slightly thicker or more enriched than my own.
It's BTs 'trapped in their own lives' celebrity couple. You know. The will-they-won't they couple who have none of the sex appeal of Milk Tray yet none of the charm of the Bisto family.
They nearly broke up once. But damn the British public - we actually COMPLAINED to BT until the couple, despite his moving to Cornwall (happens to the best of us), announced their engagement. Today, dear reader, they announce they are pregnant after we voted in our millions *faint* to make it such. Strike us down, for we have sinned.
The options on the BT.com vote were only a) pregnant or b) not pregnant - a girlfriend of mine lamented at tea break that there wasn't an option c) stomach-popping alien.
Doesn't the fact she needs more than he can provide worry anyone? Doesn't the fact her maturity and responsibilities far outweighed his once happy-go-lucky lifestyle? Or are BT doing something far more worrying - telling us that this is what life is like?
Expect the minimal and you'll never be disappointed. The Katie Price 'kids from divorced parents get more presents and holidays so it must be better' (and a cool step-Dad like Kris Marhsall) mentality. I can tell you - this isn't what second families of Britain look like - I can vouch for that.
In an 'I wish I was them' ad campaign these people would be more beautiful (Sorry Esther), less complicated, more likeable. In a reality ad-campaign there would be screaming 'you're not my father' fits from the step-children, complicated cross-over family events with the children’s Dad, money and housing troubles born from the legalities of the previous separation and a few more anxiety fights between the couple.
So there you have it, BT. Please make them either miserable or beautiful. Not grey.
Tuesday 17 August 2010
Must be the format
So I caught Must be the Music on Sky last night.
I say caught, I was really stuck in the depression-filled pit of no-mans-land between Eastenders and Big Brother (God love summer time) and it was simply the only thing on.
To clarify, it was the only thing on which didn’t involve deep mathematical explanations or Oxford professors being interviewed in dusty pompous-filled offices on Discovery.
Picture the scene. Dozens of hopefuls audition in front of 3 judges who give a majority vote as to whether said performer(s) go through to the live finals. Throw into the mix a slightly whiney compare interviewing folk backstage. Hi Fern.Now where have I seen this before?
Judge Dizzee was as to be expected – keepin’ it reeeeel – loving the rappers, the hip-hoppers (should be a word) and the young male teens. Sharleen (from Texas – remember them?) was pretty brutal at times ‘if you’ve been doing this for 15 years you should be doing it better’, but I liked her. She had a touch of the ‘I can’t believe my luck’ about her.
And Jamie. Well, he was just visible over the judges table and voted for all the classical instruments and awkward looking ones *shock*.
Fern, still struggling with dual-toned hair which looks like it could do with a good deep condition, cried, laughed, flirted and generally wished she was Dermot.
Let’s face it, it was X Factor. X Factors poorer less humorous, less glamorous little brother (getting my reality TV all mixed up now…).
Let’s hope it really is all about the music, eh?
I say caught, I was really stuck in the depression-filled pit of no-mans-land between Eastenders and Big Brother (God love summer time) and it was simply the only thing on.
To clarify, it was the only thing on which didn’t involve deep mathematical explanations or Oxford professors being interviewed in dusty pompous-filled offices on Discovery.
Picture the scene. Dozens of hopefuls audition in front of 3 judges who give a majority vote as to whether said performer(s) go through to the live finals. Throw into the mix a slightly whiney compare interviewing folk backstage. Hi Fern.Now where have I seen this before?
Judge Dizzee was as to be expected – keepin’ it reeeeel – loving the rappers, the hip-hoppers (should be a word) and the young male teens. Sharleen (from Texas – remember them?) was pretty brutal at times ‘if you’ve been doing this for 15 years you should be doing it better’, but I liked her. She had a touch of the ‘I can’t believe my luck’ about her.
And Jamie. Well, he was just visible over the judges table and voted for all the classical instruments and awkward looking ones *shock*.
Fern, still struggling with dual-toned hair which looks like it could do with a good deep condition, cried, laughed, flirted and generally wished she was Dermot.
Let’s face it, it was X Factor. X Factors poorer less humorous, less glamorous little brother (getting my reality TV all mixed up now…).
Let’s hope it really is all about the music, eh?
Tuesday 3 August 2010
The charm of Cornwall
What makes a road uplifting? Stippled light through weeping willows, catching romantic glimpses of lochs and streamlets while doves feed you through the sun roof? Ok, maybe not the last bit.
But what makes a road ‘depressing’ is a finer art to pin down. Miles of bare road, bland scenery and the odd annoying speed camera at the bottom of a hill when you’re bound to be accidentally topping 70 mph if only to be ecological on the incline…
When Motorcycle News Magazine asked 3,000 motorcyclists to name the most depressing road in the UK, the A30 at Bodmin was a chart-topper at no 9, nestling only two notches up from the M5 northbound.
Come on (motorcycle) people – the M5 is SERIOUSLY more depressing than our Cornish tarmac!
What’s not to like? By taking the A30 passed Bodmin you no longer have to drive THROUGH Bodmin. Anyone who’s been there will know what I’m saying...
It also means you are 10 minutes from home (me), about an hour from the Battery Rocks at Penzance, or in the other direction about 300 miles from anywhere else. Marvellous.
The nice thing about Cornwall is we don’t have a single motorway, and it’s nice to keep it that way.
Our roads are peppered with services that annoyingly aren’t open 24 hours, eateries you’ve never heard of, pubs which are infamously haunted and petrol stations which are inexplicably as expensive as those on the M25. Suck it up, Mr/Mrs Motorcyclist – that’s just part of the charm of Cornwall…
But what makes a road ‘depressing’ is a finer art to pin down. Miles of bare road, bland scenery and the odd annoying speed camera at the bottom of a hill when you’re bound to be accidentally topping 70 mph if only to be ecological on the incline…
When Motorcycle News Magazine asked 3,000 motorcyclists to name the most depressing road in the UK, the A30 at Bodmin was a chart-topper at no 9, nestling only two notches up from the M5 northbound.
Come on (motorcycle) people – the M5 is SERIOUSLY more depressing than our Cornish tarmac!
What’s not to like? By taking the A30 passed Bodmin you no longer have to drive THROUGH Bodmin. Anyone who’s been there will know what I’m saying...
It also means you are 10 minutes from home (me), about an hour from the Battery Rocks at Penzance, or in the other direction about 300 miles from anywhere else. Marvellous.
The nice thing about Cornwall is we don’t have a single motorway, and it’s nice to keep it that way.
Our roads are peppered with services that annoyingly aren’t open 24 hours, eateries you’ve never heard of, pubs which are infamously haunted and petrol stations which are inexplicably as expensive as those on the M25. Suck it up, Mr/Mrs Motorcyclist – that’s just part of the charm of Cornwall…
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