Twerking, in case you were wondering, is a form of artistic expression. Female artistic expression generally but I don’t think its one of those gender exclusive things like throwing a ball or parking a car or ironing a shirt or having a greater than 1 in 250 chance of chairing a Footsie 100 company. But – Read More-
My body’s a temple. And by all rights should actually look like one. Squat, solid, hefty, round and bulbous. But it doesn’t. I look like a god. Or a dog. Or any anagram of those three letters. By virtue of fortuitous genes, a high metabolism or both. Or that the medical profession are a lying – Read More-
“and now here is the weather, sponsored by Anne Summers…” How can you sponsor the weather? What; do you arrange raindrops to land with ‘E-on’ logos on them, or shaped like Kellogs products? Wind that smells of Cadbury’s chocolate (ahhhh, if only), sunshine by RayBan. Oh, they mean the weather ‘report’ that’s sponsored, oh, that’s – Read More-
Stephen King changed my life. Though not necessarily in a good way. Depends what you mean by ‘good’ I suppose. If you mean scared of the dark, frightened of shadows, alarmed by noises at the windows, wetting the bed and freaking out when you hear the words ‘Here’s Johnny!!’, then its good. Otherwise, ‘paranoid neurotic’ – Read More-
yeah, but will it win any football matches? I suppose it depends what you consider as ‘English’. Jack Wilshire, little English Bulldog, terrier-type Arsenal (so we should check for rabies) philosopher, summed it up rather succinctly when he stated that ‘only English people is English and to play for England ya gorra be English. Innit.’ – Read More-
Now here’s an interesting thing. If you go to http://andysglasses.com/ and scroll down to the bottom there’s a ‘subscribe’ thingy. And if you put your email address in there you get a notification when new blogs are posted. So you, er, won’t miss anything, errr, like, errr, really important. Its so easy. A child of – Read More-
That’s it, finished, over, done and dusted, the end of the line, been and gone, no more tomorrows. Because this is the last of my daily emails you’re ever going to receive. I’m done, I’m over it, I’m moving on. But don’t fret, don’t panic, stop your sobbing, put the razor down, life WILL still – Read More-
You know the phrase ‘an accident waiting to happen’ (which Mel often uses in what is quite frankly a cruel reference to my at times slightly clumsy side, though admittedly she is often the recipient of such klutzy events and bears many a scar), anyway, Lauren Booth was a ‘Muslim waiting to happen’. Lauren is – Read More-
A new Woody Allen movie is a big event. I don’t care what you think. Its big. Even though there’s one every year and has been since Bananas in about 1657. When Woody was just 12 and still married to his sixth wife’s god-daughter’s neice. The man’s love life has been almost as erratic as his films. But I’ll always see them. I have to. I’m driven. Possessed. According to drug addicts, the first hit of heroin is such an incredible high that you spend the next 30 years trying to get it back. Well as a Woody addict, my first movie, and I can’t remember whether it was Play it again, Sam, or Bananas, or Take the Money and Run, was just such a ‘hit’, a ‘high’, such a drug, such a fantastic experience that I’ve spent the last 40 years trying to relive it.
“Ere!!!!!” shouted the schoolboy across the playground, “did’joo call my mum a slag???”.
“No”, replied the spokesman from the Daily Mail, “I just called yer dad a frikkin traitor!”
Now pay careful attention because the next sentence is something rare, something dear, something to be kept for posterity, because it’ll never be writ again:*****Ed Milliband was right. ******Wow.Its a tough contest between who is more hateful; the leader of the opposition party, the hapless, left-leaning lummox, or the Daily Mail, bastion of the right wing, so staunchly conservative and Conservative that its now just finding its true new home with UKIP, the views of which concur with that newspaper’s own dreams in a reactionary, xenophobic and overly nationalistic style. The (nominal) Conservative Party is currently insufficiently conservative for most of the Mail’s views.So when, raking through Milliband’s father’s diaries, written when the man was 17 years old, before Ed was even a flicker of his imagination, before either Wallace or Grommit was born, they found a comment which said how ‘I sometimes think it would be better if England lost the war…’