missprint

"Cos your X is equal to my Y but equations pass me by"

2009-09-17T11:36:00.002Z

So, long time, no blog. It appears that the life of a student was more conducive to obsessively blogging about the state of pop music and upon graduation, life interrupted somewhat. In the intervening time, much has changed and much has remained the same. Inevitably older and wiser and quite a lot geekier (evolutionary biology has become a recent obsession), I am also almost in possession of some postnominals. Yes, dear readers, I have succumbed to the career choice which was so obviously staring me in the face all this time, I am (barring failure of my dissertation), a qualified librarian.

Goodness knows why it took me so long to realise it (after all, I'd only been working in libraries for about four years before I had my epiphany) but once I did, the heavens opened and the angels and St Dewey were gazing down upon me. (As you might be able to tell, I'm not one of those librarians who is actively fighting the stereotype. Belle & Sebastian, tea and cardigans, there are some things that you just cannot fight in my experience.)

I refer to myself as a librarian but let me pose a philosophical question to you: is a librarian really a librarian without a job? This morning I received a letter from The Daily Mail turning me down for a job. The Guardian reader in me is obviously thrilled, despite the fact that The Daily Mail is responsible for my favourite news article of recent times. (Seriously, every line is this article is a JOY to behold. Where to start? The somewhat eccentric capitalisation of "SWEET" in the first sentance? Mr Simpkins' assertion that the lime is the gentleman in the coupling? Or the distress of poor Mrs Simpkins whose frayed nerves could only be soothed by reclining on some car park tarmac?) So, whilst my moral compass and general principles are quite happy not to be swallowed up by the beast of Middle England, my unemployed ego cannot help but be a little bruised from a rejection from The Daily Mail.

It seems that today is turning out to be one of those days in which the past comes drifting up in front of you. My Facebook status regarding MailGate has attracted a raft of comments from people that I've lost touch with or don't know very well. I've dusted off my copy of Ghosts after reading this interview with Siobhan Donaghy. And finally, I find myself here again. And to think that the day isn't over yet, what else could come back to haunt us? We can but hope that this retrograde in my life does not extend to something like Menswe@r reforming.

"Did you ever think that loving would mean nothing more than walking me home? No, no..."

2007-07-22T23:58:00.000Z

Things I have learnt this week:

- The new Girls of Allowedness single, the idiosyncratically titled Sexy! No, no, no..., leaked this week and somewhat improbably the Internet is in disarray over the correct punctuation to be used when referring to the latest Girls Aloud opus. There is some discussion on the last.fm listing for it and also on Popjustice. (For the record I am sticking to the exclaimation mark, commas and ellipses and if anyone wants to quibble, talk to the Wikipedia entry because the face ain't listening.) Anyway, despite the citizens of Popjustice having simulateous multiple orgasms over it, I can't quite seem to bring myself to adore it in the same way. I've listened to it ten times now and it does indeed sound like Girls Aloud having a particularly melodious rave in a Black & Decker warehouse, I'm still not convinced. It's a bit like that girl at school that everybody loves and is perfectly nice and sweet but you still just don't like her.*

- I've rediscovered my love for the Harry Potter books (though I still maintain that JK Rowling is in need of a stricter editor). After seeing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last week (more on which later) I've been in Potter-mode again. Somewhat foolishly, I thought I'd be able to plough my way through the previous six books in a week. I gave up on this foolhardy plan when it got to Wednesday and I was only halfway through the first book, so I just skipped ahead to the penultimate book. However, because I'm a working gal now I only managed to finish Half Blood Prince on Saturday evening in between frantically texting all my friends and commanding them not to tell me anything on punishment of death (or at the very least, a very stern glare). Anyway, I managed to speed read my way through Deathly Hallows in between pottering around with cups of tea (no pun intended) and sporting the Autumn/Winter look for Death Eateresses everywhere:

What could be more useful for those stay-at-home Death Eateresses than a handy headscarf that not only shows your allegiance to the Dark Lord but also keeps your hair out of your eyes while you clean the house and torture Muggles? Available at all reputable evil emporiums.

I found myself somewhat disappointed with the last two books, I felt that they didn't add much in terms of the story arc and characterisation of Harry himself (I became increasingly annoyed with his outbursts of self-righteous anger) and they needed serious editing. Also, I realise that JK Rowling's readership would have grown up quite a bit in the years since the first Harry Potter book was published and that accordingly the books have gotten darker and more adult in tone but the gap in between Philosopher's Stone and Deathly Hallows is more like a chasm. In the same way that I don't regard the His Dark Materials trilogy as children's books but more for the Young Adult readership, the Harry Potter series from Order of the Phoenix onwards is definately not aimed at the 8 year old who might have just started reading the series. Anyway, perhaps it's because I didn't devour this volume in the same way that I did the others that I enjoyed it on first reading much more. (Also, I must admit it's also because I had quite a few smug moments where my theories were confirmed...) Also, you can't beat a bit of Molly Weasley swearing which is quite possibly my favourite moment in the entire series. So in summary, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - yay!

- I've been Miss Freebies lately because I've been stalking Martin Lewis's forums lately. There was a time where I managed to get free preview screening tickets almost every week but Heat magazine seemed to stop running these screenings. Anyway, I managed to make up for lost time and I procured free tickets for Sherrybaby, Hairspray, Transformers and Knocked Up. I'd heard a lot about Sherrybaby at the beginning of the year during the awards season and my interest was piqued because there was talk about Maggie Gyllenhaal's Oscar-worthy performance (and also because I have a girl-crush on Maggie). Anyway, the film wasn't what I expected, I was thinking more along the lines of a triumph-over-adversity, scene-chewing type of thing (see Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happyness) but it was something far more nuanced and complex than that. In the hands of a far less capable and intelligent actress than Maggie, Sherry would have been a far more straightforward and sympathetic character but instead we get this girl who bounces from being closed and tightly-wound agression borne of incarceration, self-assured seductress and overbearing euphoria of a mother being reunited with her daughter. I'm not sure that saying I enjoyed the film would be entirely accurate. The ever-present thunudering skies and rain in London failed to diminish my usual sunny optimism but Sherrybaby succeeded where British weather failed.

Speaking of failures and damp squibs, where Spider-Man 3, Shrek the Third and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End bombed spectacularly (in terms of the summer box office season that is), I'm hoping Hairspray will emerge as the plucky all-singing, all-dancing underdog. I shall level with you dear readers, I wasn't convinced that John Travolta in a fat suit would constitute what one would usually term as an evening's entertainment but I haven't seen a film that fizzes and sparks on the screen this way since Hot Fuzz earlier this year. I knew that loving Hairspray couldn't be wrong when about twenty minutes in, Allison Janney appeared onscreen and we all know that it's impossible to dislike anything that Allison Janney's in and therefore everything that Allison Janney is in is AMAZING. We are, after all, talking about a woman who has portrayed Ms. Perky in 10 Things I Hate About You, Peach the Starfish in Finding Nemo and of course, Claudia Jean Cregg in the West Wing. I must admit, I've never seen the John Waters original after being severly put off his ouvre when I was required to watch Pink Flamingos (final scene included) for a film class at university but Stuart reassures me that anything after the 1980s is safe from Divine masticating dog excrement so I'm adding Hairspray, Cry Baby and Pecker to my Amazon rental list. (Though I am still ploughing my way through DI Sam Tyler's adventures with the scary TV test card girl and her clown so it'll be a while before I can test Stuart's theory.)

It's fair to say that it's taken me quite a while to separate my favourite novels from their celluloid twins but I think I've finally learnt to let go and enjoy the Harry Potter films. It does help that Chris Columbus is no longer turning the franchise into two hour long wades through treacle. It also helps that Order of the Phoenix isn't one of my favourites of the series and in being trimmed down for the screen, it's also lost a lot of the narrative fat that I thought was unnecessary in the first place. It's as enjoyable as all the other Harry Potter films, the CGI excellent, the production design detailed and sumptuous as ever and with the franchise's reputation of seemingly cast every British actor ever born in it, you can guarantee great performances (perhaps less so in Daniel Radcliffe's case but moving swiftly on...) However, we're getting to the stage where the films are getting a bit predictable and they're just trundling along and despite changing directors more frequently than Paris Hilton does her paramors, the franchise needs to get a more interesting and slightly more avant garde creative team in. Terry Gilliam's name has been bandied about and an excellent choice he would be too but I just think that Tim Burton or Guillermo del Toro would be a perfect fit, especially for the last few films.

- More on the living moral parable of our times that is Shayne Ward. It appears that the karmic retribution for tossing a dwarf into a swimming pool is great indeed.

- Our favourite goth moron, Victoria Newton, has created an even more idio moniker for a genre than nu-rave - the 'whatevah!' set. Nope, me neither.

- Look! My other favourite Alyson on TV is a brunette now!

OK, bedtime now. I've two more episodes to watch before I finish the sixth season of the West Wing, hurrah!

* This being the Girls of Allowedness and me being me, I will probably have changed my mind in an hour when I will have a popiphany (yes, really) and realise that it's the best thing I've heard since the opening guitar line of Love Machine.

"I've had such a wicked time / Kissed the boys and made them cry"

2007-07-13T16:27:00.000Z

Random things for a Friday afternoon:

I've been meaning to post about the Peckham Pet-Tastic thing I went to a few weeks ago. For those of you not in the know regarding pet fancy-dress picnics in South-East London, it's an art project conceived by Rachael House which is really just an excuse to slap a pair of angel wings on your greyhound. Anyway, nothing like free popcorn and dogs in fancy dress to bring the crowds out on a Saturday afternoon:

Look what I found on my doormat when I returned home this afternoon!

It's nice to see that the Church is branching out into multi-lingual leaflets. I guess they have to compete with those pesky Jehovah's Witnesses with their hard-sell techniques. (Seriously, Sir Alan Sugar needn't look any further than the nearest Jehovah's Witness hall for his next apprentice. I bet a Jehovah's Witness could sell ten times the amount of QVC tat that Simon Ambrose could. Although considering Simon's sales record, that's not really saying much.) Anyway, nice try Christians, I'm not Chinese therefore I win! I am however a little worried that they knew to post the Chinese leaflet into my house.

It's obviously slow news day for Victoria Newton today because she's reporting that the Arctic Monkeys are getting a Soviet makeover. Well, at least Alex Turner is because apparently he's only answering to Aleks Turner now. Her source displays a sort of wonky logic here: “He has set up an email account in the name Aleks and now signs off with it. It’s the sort of quirky and rather puzzling thing that he does. I hope it doesn’t go too far. He’ll start replacing his name with a picture of a monkey next.” Quite.

You know, I thought the Michelle McManus/Discotivity! story was going to be my favourite showbiz story until I read this. Bearing in mind that this is the work of Victoria Newton, I am a little skeptical but surely even La Newton wouldn't stoop to slandering Shayne Ward's good name using dwarf wrestlers? The article features what is quite possibly my favourite opening line of any news article ever: "Shayne Ward almost drowned a midget on the set of his new video." Amazing.

I was going to write a review of Sherrybaby and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (both of which I saw this week) but I've just realised that I'm running late for a televisual date with DI Sam Tyler. More later. Pip pip.

"She can't carry on but her nimble fingers still feel the cold"

2007-07-06T20:45:00.000Z

Things I have learnt this month:

- Despite having a leaked copy for a few months now, the Siobhan Donaghy album is marvellous. Even more so when it's accompanied by gorgeous artwork (courtesy of the dark genius of Floria Sigismondi) and the ever elusive lyrics of Ghosts. I cannot lie to you dear readers, I am somewhat disappointed that one of the lyrics is: "Phwoar so spirit smother me in" but really I shouldn't complain when it also includes other lyrical gems such as: "Fuel full fat her glass of milk". But anyway, all this doesn't detract of her status as a Sacred Cow of Pop and judging from the album booklet, even Siobhan herself is aware of her own canonization:

- Despite my ongoing reservations about hairdressers, I decided to get my hair cut again. It was reaching ridiculous Rapunzel-esque proportions and I have a rule about waist length hair being unacceptable on anyone older than 9. Needless to say, I should have trusted my instincts and left well alone because it's been a month since The Cut and only now am I growing to like my hair again. For a long month, on a good day it felt like a wig and on a bad day it felt like a cheap wig of a pre-op male to female transsexual. Spot the difference:

- It's nice to see that Mutya's record label are wise enough to realise that Song 4 Mutya has "Stomper of the Summer" tattooed across it (which considering the Mighty Buena's involvement is probably in a classy place like it's upper thigh or strategically placed above it's heaving bosom. Ahem, I seem to have wandered off track somewhat.) So, like much of the Popjustice readership, I am still wondering why the promo video is so flat:

At least she scrubs up nice in the video. Unlike the alternative version that she's promoting on her website:

A prime example of why popstrels should not be let loose with Microsoft PowerPoint.

Popjustice ran an article today on alternative treatments for the Song 4 Mutya video. The winning entry adheres to one of the Cardinal Rule of Pop Greatness, "Thou shalt have multiple popstrels with the use of fancy CGI" (see also: Kylie "Come Into My World, Rachel Stevens "Negotiate With Love" etc.) To this end, I would like to see a video with multiple Mutyas exacting various revenge scenarios on her ex-boyfriend and his new floozy, one of which could have a shoddy 'festival' setting, thus bringing the whole thing full circle.

- I discovered this page today, thecustard.tv's list of new and upcoming programming for the year. Some of it reads scarily like TV Go Home, selected lowlights include:

- 12 Angry Celebrities ITV1 – Reality show in which celebrities act as the jury in a fictional murder trial.

- Bonekickers BBC1 – Drama about archaeologists written by Ashley Pharoah and Matthew Graham, of Life On Mars fame.

- The Calais Rules 2007 BBC2 – Sitcom featuring badly behaved BBC foreign correspondents, written by journalists Tira Shubart and Sandra Jones with Jon Rolph – producer of French & Saunders. (This has more than a whiff of "The White Van" in "Adrian Mole & The Cappucino Years")

- The Clock Is Ticking BBC1 Saturday night game show fronted by Dick & Dom (Richard McCourt and Dominic Wood) in which contestants sit in a room with no clock. When they emerge, they have to guess how much time is left to win a cash prize.(Just when you thought television quiz shows couldn't get any more heart-palpitatingly, thrillingly suspenseful...they don't.)

- DanceX Saturday 14 July 2007, BBC1 – Saturday evening reality TV show hosted by Ben Shephard to find a new dance troupe like 1980s sensations Hot Gossip. Strictly Come Dancing judges Arlene Phillips, who choreographed Hot Gossip for their appearances on Kenny Everett's ITV shows, and Bruno Tonioli will compete to create the best troupe.

- Delia Smith's Apprentice BBC – In the planning stages, the cookery queen is set to appear in a series in which she picks an apprentice from a group of hopefuls. (We can but hope that Sir Alan's catchphrase, "You're fired" is given a somewhat more literal interpretation in this version.)

- Dickinson's Real Deal 2007, ITV1 – Seventy more editions of David Dickinson's antiques challenge. (Seventy??)

- Dumped 2007, Channel 4 – Reality show in which 10 people go to live on Britain's biggest rubbish dump and learn to live a comfortable life on recycled materials. (Again, we can only hope that this synopsis is not merely badly phrased and the contestants actually have to find a comfortable position on which to sit on a pile of recycled materials for a prolonged amount of time.)

- Food Poker BBC2 – Series combining poker and cookery in which two chefs compete against each other to win ingredients for a dish by playing cards before a member of the studio audience picks the best creation.

Clearly, the void in my life that has been left by Doctor Who and Any Dream Will Do is set to yawn through to next year. Thank goodness I have two seasons of The West Wing that I've not yet viewed to see me through.

The Wolf Chorus

2007-06-12T08:08:00.000Z

This is quite possibly my favourite thing on the interweb. Ever.

I think that the boy Wolf should abandon his band and just have these boys instead. It would certainly mean no more of those pesky "Patrick Wolf brutalizes drummer shocker!" headlines. (Although I guess it's entirely feasible that there would be "Patrick Wolf brutalizes human beat boxer shocker!" headlines.) Well, if La Wolf doesn't want them, I would like them miniaturized and installed in my car instead.

"They tried to make me sign a pre-nup / I said 'no no no'"

2007-05-21T11:21:00.000Z

Reportedly Mr. Amy Winehouse's words, not mine. Yes, Dame Amy of Winehouse is now officially Duchess Amy of Civil-Engineering (or something like that).

Anyway, I am off for seven days in the sun (more like a few days as the weather forecast for Gran Canaria is looking suspiciously drizzly) so I wanted to post the answers to my IMDb quiz before I come back addled with sunstroke:

1 // Hit by bus / Mathematics / Suspected lesbian - Mean Girls
2 // 2500s / Kicked in the crotch / Terraforming - Serenity
3 // Frozen river / Audio cassette / Poetry - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
4 // Herpetology / Child bride / Scrabble - Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
5 // Sunglasses / Thick accent / Scale model of city - Hot Fuzz
6 // Language barrier / Title spoken by character / Christmas card - Love Actually
7 // Body waxing / Asthma / Heiress - Hitch
8 // Bathhouse / Identical twins / Environmentalism - Spirited Away (or indeed the Olson's Bette Midler biopic, don't you know?)
9 // Pop music / Misfit / Funeral - High Fidelity
10 // Nazi experiment / Narration from the grave / Rubik's cube - Hellboy

How many did you get right? Right, have to finish packing now, pip pip!

"Take the black off a crow / But don't tell me I have to go"

2007-05-17T16:22:00.000Z

There is a beautiful ramshackle house covered in vines opposide my house. For the past week, I have noticed lighting vans and a winnebago parked outside from very early in the morning to very late at night. Then last night, I spied some men in waterproofs emerging out of the church hall clutching some sandwiches. I've been vaguely wondering (considering my luck with being in close proximity to Doctor Who sets) whether it was anything exciting. Sadly, I've had little (i.e. none) in the way of celebtacular action. Then I happened to mention to a friend in an email today whose interest was piqued and she decided to Google it and imagine my surprise when I hear that it's Madonna filming her directorial debut, Filth and Wisdom. If only it were Girls Aloud, I would rush the set straightaway. As it is, I am going to strategically walk past the house on the way to work tomorrow to try and spy. Yes, I am that pathetic that this may be the highlight of my week. (I reserve judgement as I am going to be in the audience for QI tomorrow and my love for Stephen Fry is seemingly limitless.)

"We can go to that private view but darlin' these days my favourite view is you"

2007-05-15T23:42:00.000Z

Surevey ahoy as I am lazy, it's past my bedtime and I haven't done one in a while.

* Go to IMDb.com and look up 10 of your favorite movies.
* Post three official IMDb "Plot Keywords" for these 10 picks.
* Have your friends guess the movie titles.

1 // Hit by bus / Mathematics / Suspected lesbian
2 // 2500s / Kicked in the crotch / Terraforming
3 // Frozen river / Audio cassette / Poetry
4 // Herpetology / Child bride / Scrabble
5 // Sunglasses / Thick accent / Scale model of city
6 // Language barrier / Title spoken by character / Christmas card
7 // Body waxing / Asthma / Heiress
8 // Bathhouse / Identical twins / Environmentalism
9 // Pop music / Misfit / Funeral
10 // Nazi experiment / Narration from the grave / Rubik's cube

And yes, there is a Mungo film in there somewhere.

Have you ever seen them in the same room?

2007-05-15T20:34:00.000Z

l-r: Maddox Jolie-Pitt, Patrick Wolf

Well, have you?

Crashed the webbing

2007-05-10T23:51:00.000Z

(You'll groan audibly at the title of this post in a minute. )

So I went to see Spider-Man 3 last night and I don't understand why I'm practically the only person who loved the film. Yes, it was a little goofy and yes, they shoe-horned in three (count them, three!) villains but I thought it highly entertaining. The Guardian ran an article recently about black being the new black: "[...] those big blockbusters resurrecting tired old characters that were presumed to have breathed their last breath. Thanks to the miracle ingredient of darkness, they're all back, good as new!" Bearing in mind this recent darkening of the mainstream, it seems as though people have forgotten how to enjoy a popcorn blockbuster for what it is. What is this modern obsession with exploring the fraught and complex psychological landscapes of men in lycra bodysuits? Of course, the most pertinent question is when was Matt Willis cast as Peter Parker?

(Oh hush - you try coming up with a good Spiderman/Busted pun!)

"Where the bassline jumps in the backstreet lights"

2007-05-08T01:13:00.000Z

This week has been a particular vintage for slightly odd pop news. First of all, there was the widespread joy at the news that Stock, Aiken and Waterman are making a comeback (which in itself isn't that odd really). However, as Popjustice reported, this joy was not only premature but short-lived as SAW revealed that their stupendous return was to be helmed by faux-Australian faux-60s faux-girlband, The Sheilas from the Sheila's Wheels car insurance adverts.

The Guardian ran a piece about the Shockwaves promotional single scam that Popjustice uncovered.

On a slightly more tenuous note (as I'm still debating whether I truly consider her a pop star), Paris Hilton is going to jail for 45 days. Victoria Newton had a field day with the story and wheeled out the following headline:

Amazing.

However, my two favourite items of pop news this week are the SugaBarbie dolls and following Patrick Wolf's (sort of) retirement, a nascent modelling career alongside Kate Moss.

Mattel have decided that there is a niche market for Sugababes dolls. I am hoping against hope that the dolls have buttons on their back which bark out random Sugababes lyrics. (Which considering Easy might be highly questionable. I'm not sure that Mattel would approve of their dolls purring: "I need a roughneck brother who can satisfy me" or indeed, "The weather's nice and wet just south of the border") Suffice to say, the SugaBarbies look nothing like the Sugababes as clearly Keisha has a enormodome for a forehead (one to rival Luke Haines' cranium) and instead of mobiles, laptops and minature pooches, they should be wielding nunchucks, crossbows and spears.

So, according to this recent interview, Patrick Wolf has just been signed as the new international face of Burberry (I'm guessing it's for Burberry Prorsum as somehow I can't see him decked out head to toe in the Burberry check). If that isn't enough to fan the flames of desire of fangirls and fanboys, there is the following quote which I expect will be doing the rounds: "I'm a lot easier with selling my body than selling my music, so why not?" This is possibly even more odd that the story about the drummer of the Arctic Monkeys designing a clothing range. Anyway, it's an intriguing prospect, seeing the boy Wolf modelling alongside Kate Moss, Ioan Gruffud and Rachel Weisz. I expect that I shall find that much of my time waiting for a bus outside the Burberry store on Haymarket will be more entertaining in future.

"Second floor and I'm in trouble / Gotta get me down to street level"

2007-05-03T22:30:00.000Z

The mania that gripped Mungo during his recent shorts'n'beans rampage seems to have me in its thrall. Fear not, I haven't been lobbing tubs of Heinz macaroni cheese at any unsuspecting paparazzi but I have just spent £130 on a bag. On eBay.

Excuse me, I think my throat is suddenly swelling up.

"POP! goes my heart"

2007-04-10T23:26:00.000Z

I seem to be going through a phase of being obsessed with looking things up on Wikipedia (partly because the glaring inaccuracies never fail to entertain me). I somehow ended up on Hugh Grant's Wikipedia entry and what I find even more amusing than the fact that his middle name is Mungo (yes, Mungo!) is that the image that illustrates his Wikipedia entry is of a waxwork figure of him (yes, a waxwork!) Behold:

This is quite possibly the best thing I've seen on Wikipedia ever.

"You get what you see, when you see what I got"

2007-04-03T17:47:00.000Z

Hurrah, the new Mutya Buena video has leaked and fabulous it is indeed!

Highlights from the video:

- Mutya writing her own name, complete with the kind of fancy 'A's 14 year old girls are partial to
- Mutya wandering around the mean streets of London with her digital camera around her neck. Good God woman, you're just asking to be on Crimewatch.
- Some nifty morphing effects featuring some beautiful people who were clearly hired to be Friends of Buena for the day.
- One of whom appears to be Dutchess Amy of Winehouse dressed as a Camden Goth:

Rather alarmingly, I have just returned from the hairdressers and my fringe isn't a million miles away from what Dutchess Winehouse is sporting there. Anyhow, time ticks on and I have yet to find a dinner recipe for smoked mackerel. Pip pip.

Martha the Plasmavore Slayer

2007-03-31T20:05:00.000Z

I know I have a self-imposed ban on Whedonverse/Whoverse comparisons but Russell T. Davies is making it mighty difficult for me to adhere to it. Not only does he create a noir-ish, adult spin-off featuring an immortal hero in billowy coat but now we get a new shiny companion whose first task is to slay a vampire masquerading as an OAP armed with a straw pilfered from a carton of Ribena. Snarkery aside, I thought Smith and Jones was a solid start to the new series and was equally thrilling and absurd (vigilante space-rhinos anyone?) As ever, I present to you my dissection of tonight's episode in gushy note form:

- I like Martha, even though so far it seems as though she isn't too much of a departure from the Rose formula of spunky-cockerney-companion. I imagine much will be made of the fact that unlike Rose, Martha has a burgeoning career which will divide her loyalties between her life with the Doctor and her life as Reggie Yate's sister.
- I suppose it was inevitable but I must confess, I was a little disappointed to see that Martha is being positioned as a love interest for the Doctor. Note to RTD: emotional histronics due to unrequited love does not a character arc make.
- That said, the tight suit/halfway across the universe banter did endear Martha to me quite a bit. That brief look of disappointment which flashes across Martha's face when she bluffs the Doctor about her feelings for him was heartbreaking.
- Hurrah for continuity, it does make my little fangirl heart skip a beat. The not-quite funny hospital shop joke was recycled from the series two opener, New Earth and there was a neat bit of TV-logic with the Adeola/Martha connection.
- Stupid TV-logic ahoy!: When faced with a complicated bit of machinery, a hefty operator's manual and a Time Lord shouting "Now!!" at you, it suddenly becomes clear that the Giant Yellow Button is the one to go for.
- Don't even get me started on the resuscitation techniques that miraculously revive a man drained of blood.
- RTD gives good dialogue, there were some choice lines in this episode. RTD seems to have learnt from the chav debacle last year and the pop culture references are a little less throwaway. (I was particularly tickled by the "Planet Zovirax" quip.)
- Line of the Week is a toss-up between: "Judoon platoon on the moon" and "Barefoot on the moon!"
- The Doctor got a new pair of Chucks! Not so keen on the new suit though, it's a bit too polyester 70s medallion man for my liking.
- Perhaps all the costume budget got spent on CGI because there were some pretty impressive effects in this episode alone. I particularly liked the crispy-on-the-outside-creamy-lava-on-the-inside effect of the Judoon's exterminator guns.
- Let's take a moment to ponder this rather alarming picture:

(Please insert your own purile and childish caption.)

In other news, I have spent the week feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in self-pity because I have the flu and lost my voice a few days ago. The situation has improved somewhat and I now can articulate myself (albeit sounding like Madge Bishop) rather than the strange hybrid honking/barking noises that passed for speech a few days ago. However, I have a rather shameful confession to make gentle readers. Earlier on today, I was feeling particularly sorrowful and weary and finding no food in the house and no-one at home to look after me, I ended up taking out my anger on the cutlery drawer. Overwhelmed by shame, I precariously balanced the drawer front between the two other drawers and hoped that the next person to open the drawer will assume that they're at fault. However, my dark mood has lifted somewhat as I have secured tickets for the Mighty Buena's gig at The Borderline on Wednesday, yay. Back to bed for me as the Benylin 4flu has kicked in and everything is currently moving in slow motion now. Ah the sweet kiss of pharmaceutically enhanced sleep...

"Pour myself over him, moon spilling in"

2007-03-06T22:47:00.000Z

I have recently come to believe that I am somewhat cursed. A few weeks ago, I won tickets for a special preview screening of The Illusionist at the NFT which was followed by a Q&A session with the lovely Edward Norton. Unfortunately, as I had prior arrangements, I had to pass the tickets onto my friends. Then I managed to wrangle a pair of preview tickets for the following week, only to be informed at the cinema that the print was terrible quality and would I accept some complimentary guest passes by way of apology? (Mais oui, naturellement!) Then, this morning I got a text from M inviting me to an Amy Winehouse gig that was being filmed for the BBC at Porchester Hall. I was sorely tempted to accept but I once again had prior arrangements for a word games night (which I have dubbed in my head as Scrabble my Boggle!) and I am also going to see her on Friday already.

However, one free thing I did manage to attend was the preview screening for Becoming Jane tonight.

When I heard about this film last year (through my infatuation with James McAvoy), I had quite earmarked it as a must-see for this year. Ignore the outraged cries of Austenites, protesting that Anne Hathaway couldn't possibly portray the terribly English Jane Austen. It's understandable, anyone who saw The Prestige and witnessed Scarlett Johansson's performance would assume that most Hollywood starlets would have trouble with perfecting the accent as well as delivering a solid performance. (For the record, I think that Scarlett is all ornament, no use. She was great in Ghost World but it's all been downhill from there. I like to think of her as the second generation Kirsten Dunst (if you substitue Ghost World for The Virgin Suicides)) To my eye, Anne Hathaway has the perfect English Rose look - she's more Lizzie Bennett than Jennifer Ehle or Keira Knightly and who ever doubted she could act? (You have to admire any actress who could keep a straight face whilst wearing some of the wigs required in Brokeback Mountain.)

Becoming Jane is...solid. James McAvoy is all puppy-dog charm, hops and skips and Anne Hathaway is the epitome of the spirited heroine that is so often attributed to Austen's novels. Throw in the ever fabulous Julie Walters and James Cromwell and the cantankerous-old-lady reliable, Maggie Smith and it has that gloss all over it that screams "quality Sunday night BBC adaptation". The problem with Becoming Jane is that it doesn't really seem to take off, it just meanders along and then slowly comes to a stop. You only need to see the Joe Wright adaptation of Pride & Prejudice to see that the static style of the heritage films is not essential to filming a period piece. But really my problem with Becoming Jane is the lazy and clumsy way in which the script tries to tie in Jane Austen's flirtation with Tom Lefroy with the genesis of Pride and Prejudice. I don't want to come across all strident feminist but I hate the way that a lot of female authors get mythologised. (If you were to believe the popular imagination then the Brontes roamed free on the Yorkshire moors and Jane Austen spent her days promenading down the genteel streets of Bath.) In terms of literary analyses, female-penned books are much more likely to have a biographical analysis than male-authored texts. It all goes to discrediting the talent and literary merit of female authors and their works. And for all of Jane's passionate protestations in the film about the popular 19th century perceptions of the novel as a female past-time, her argument is undermined by the narrative.

It seems to have been quite the week for cultural disappointments. I went to see The Science of Sleep on Sunday afternoon and whilst it was kitschily adorable and as eccentric as you would expect of a Michel Gondry film, it did stray into obtuse art-house noodlings at some points. Then yesterday evening, I went to see Les Miserables and failed to care about any of the characters or understand why it was the longest running West End show. On my way to the theatre, I was also confronted with the disquieting sight of Daniel Radcliffe's naked torso ten feet high on Shaftesbury Avenue. 'Twas not what I wanted to see on an empty stomach I tell you dear readers.

"Wooden boat"

2007-03-02T13:05:00.000Z

After two and a half hours, I managed to bag myself two pairs of Take That tickets.

!!!

Here's a lovely picture of Jason Orange by way of celebration:

"My girl eats a wounded preacher 'tween two loaves of bread"

2007-02-27T23:00:00.000Z

It's been a while since I've done a survey and this appeals to the listmaniac in me.

SUPPOSEDLY if you've seen over 85 films, you have no life. Mark the ones you've seen. There are 239 films on this list. Copy this list, go to your own facebook account, paste this as a note. Then, put x's next to the films you've seen, add them up, change the header adding your number, and click post at the bottom. Have fun!

( ) Rocky Horror Picture Show
(x) Grease
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest
( ) Boondock Saints
(x) Fight Club
(x) Starsky and Hutch
(x) Neverending Story
( ) Blazing Saddles
( x) Airplane
Total: 6

( ) The Princess Bride
(x) Anchorman
( ) Napoleon Dynamite
( ) Labyrinth
(x) Saw
( ) Saw II
(x) White Noise
( ) White Oleander
( ) Anger Management
(x) 50 First Dates
(x) The Princess Diaries
( ) The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement
Total so far: 11

(x) Scream
(x) Scream 2
(x) Scream 3
( ) Scary Movie
( ) Scary Movie 2
( ) Scary Movie 3
(x) Scary Movie 4
(x) American Pie
(x) American Pie 2
(x) American Wedding
( ) American Pie Band Camp
Total so far: 18

(x) Harry Potter 1
(x) Harry Potter 2
(x) Harry Potter 3
(x) Harry Potter 4
( ) Resident Evil 1
( ) Resident Evil 2
(x) The Wedding Singer
( ) Little Black Book
(x) The Village
(x) Lilo & Stitch
Total so far: 25

(x) Finding Nemo
(x) Finding Neverland
(x) Signs
( ) The Grinch
( ) Texas Chainsaw Massacre
( ) Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
( ) White Chicks
(x) Butterfly Effect
(x) 13 Going on 30
(x) I, Robot
(x) Robots
Total so far: 32

(x) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
( ) Universal Soldier
(x) Lemony Snicket: A Series Of Unfortunate Events
(x) Along Came Polly
( ) Deep Impact
( ) KingPin
(x) Never Been Kissed
(x) Meet The Parents
(x) Meet the Fockers
( ) Eight Crazy Nights
( ) Joe Dirt
(x) King Kong
Total so far: 39

(x) A Cinderella Story
(x) The Terminal
( ) The Lizzie McGuire Movie
( ) Passport to Paris
(x) Dumb & Dumber
( ) Dumber & Dumberer
(x) Final Destination
(x) Final Destination 2
( ) Final Destination 3
( ) Halloween
(x) The Ring
(x) The Ring 2
( ) Surviving X-MAS
( ) Flubber
Total so far: 46

( ) Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle
(x) Practical Magic
(x) Chicago
( )Ghost Ship
( ) From Hell
(x) Hellboy
( ) Secret Window
( ) I Am Sam
( ) The Whole Nine Yards
( ) The Whole Ten Yards
Total so far: 49

(x) The Day After Tomorrow
( ) Child's Play
( ) Seed of Chucky
( ) Bride of Chucky
(x) Ten Things I Hate About You
( ) Just Married
(x) Gothika
( ) Nightmare on Elm Street
( ) Sixteen Candles
( ) Remember the Titans
(x) Coach Carter
(x) The Grudge
( ) The Grudge 2
(x) The Mask
( ) Son Of The Mask
Total so far: 55

(x) Bad Boys
(x) Bad Boys 2
( ) Joy Ride
(x) Lucky Number Slevin
(x) Ocean's Eleven
(x) Ocean's Twelve
(x) Bourne Identity
(x) Bourne Supremecy
( ) Lone Star
( ) Bedazzled
( ) Predator I
( ) Predator II
( ) The Fog
(x) Ice Age
(x) Ice Age 2: The Meltdown
( ) Curious George
Total so far: 64

(x) Independence Day
( ) Cujo
( ) A Bronx Tale
( ) Darkness Falls
( ) Christine
( ) ET
( ) Children of the Corn
( ) My Bosses Daughter
(x) Maid in Manhattan
(x) War of the Worlds
(x) Rush Hour
(x) Rush Hour 2
Total so far: 69

( ) Best Bet
( ) How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
(x) She's All That
(x) Calendar Girls
( ) Sideways
(x) Mars Attacks
( ) Event Horizon
(x) Ever After
(x) Wizard of Oz
(x) Forrest Gump
(x) Big Trouble in Little China
( ) The Terminator
( ) The Terminator 2
( ) The Terminator 3
Total so far: 76

(x) X-Men
(x) X2
(x) X3
(x) Spider-Man
(x) Spider-Man 2
( ) Sky High
( ) Jeepers Creepers
( ) Jeepers Creepers 2
(x) Catch Me If You Can
(x) The Little Mermaid
(x) Freaky Friday
( ) Reign of Fire
( ) The Skulls
(x) Cruel Intentions
( ) Cruel Intentions 2
( ) The Hot Chick
(x) Shrek
(x) Shrek 2
Total so far: 87

( ) Swimfan
( ) Miracle on 34th street
(x) Old School
( ) The Notebook
( ) K-Pax
( ) Krippendorf's Tribe
(x) A Walk to Remember
( ) Ice Castles
( ) Boogeyman
(x) The 40-year-old-virgin
Total so far: 90

(x) Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring
(x) Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
(x) Lord of the Rings: Return Of the King
(x) Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
(x) Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
(x) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Total so far: 96

( ) BASEketball
(x) Hostel
( ) Waiting for Guffman
( ) House of 1000 Corpses
( ) Devils Rejects
( ) Elf
( ) Highlander
(x) Mothman Prophecies
( ) American History X
( ) Three
Total so Far: 98

( ) The Jacket
( ) Kung Fu Hustle
(x) Shaolin Soccer
( ) Night Watch
(x)Monsters Inc.
(x) Titanic
(x) Monty Python and the Holy Grail
(x) Shaun Of the Dead
( ) Willard
Total so far: 103

( ) High Tension
( ) Club Dread
( ) Hulk
(x) Dawn Of the Dead
(x) Hook
(x) Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
(x) 28 Days Later
( ) Orgazmo
( ) Phantasm
(x) Waterworld
Total so far: 108

(x) Kill Bill vol 1
(x) Kill Bill vol 2
( ) Mortal Kombat
( ) Wolf Creek
( ) Kingdom of Heaven
( ) The Hills Have Eyes
( ) I Spit on Your Grave aka the Day of the Woman
( ) The Last House on the Left
( ) Re-Animator
( ) Army of Darkness
Total so far: 110

( ) Star Wars Ep. I The Phantom Menace
( ) Star Wars Ep. II Attack of the Clones
( ) Star Wars Ep. III Revenge of the Sith
( ) Star Wars Ep. IV A New Hope
( ) Star Wars Ep. V The Empire Strikes Back
( ) Star Wars Ep. VI Return of the Jedi
( ) Ewoks Caravan Of Courage
( ) Ewoks The Battle For Endor
Total so far: 110

(x) The Matrix
(x) The Matrix Reloaded
(x) The Matrix Revolutions
( ) Animatrix
( ) Evil Dead
( ) Evil Dead 2
( ) Team America: World Police
( ) Red Dragon
(x) Silence of the Lambs
( ) Hannibal
Total so far: 114

Now Add them up and......apparently, I am devoid of a life.

Completely ridiculous. Who in their lifetime has not seen more than 85 films? I've probably watched about half of those films more than once. Also, I'm a little confused as to why they were in little groups. Was it to aid the counting because as far as I can see, most of them don't have anything in common with each other.

Anyway, I'm feeling lazy so this is going to be a bit of a show and tell entry.

I've been on a bit of a baking frenzy this week. I keep on buying bunches of bananas and not eating them, so what's a girl to do on a Sunday afternoon but bake Nigella's banana bread? Not only is it idiotically easy to make but the call for rum in the recipe provides the perfect excuse for you to swan around your kitchen in your apron and pyjamas muttering: "But why the rum?"

Then yesterday, as I was going to see Hot Fuzz for a second time with a friend, I also managed to make good on a bet I won with him. A few weeks ago, we made our predictions for the Brits and we agreed that the winner with the most correct predictions would be entitled to a homemade cake from the loser. So, I skipped home with a belated Christmas present and lovely fruit cake with some sort of cream cheese icing (I'm guessing).

And today, I decided to wade into the murky waters of savoury baking with Delia's buttermilk cheese and chive scones. I was trying to recreate the scones which are served at the Pump Rooms in Bath. Unless you are venturing there for breakfast anytime soon, you will have to take my word that they are light, moist, crumbly bites of a particularly cheesy heaven. Behold:

I must admit, I cannot resist a recipe which calls for me to use all the shiny baking accoutrements that I have amassed (in this case, a rolling pin, cookie cutters and my faux-Cath Kidston cake tins). The sense of accomplishment that accompanies a successful bake is doubly enhanced if you have, at some point, wielded a floury rolling pin.

Finally, I bid goodbye to my lovely electric blue iPod mini this week. As much as I love it, it was proving a little inadequate for my record collection. (My Girls Aloud back catalogue was taking up at least half the memory...) Say hello to my new iPod:

Dishy, isn't it?

"I'm gonna lose my baby / So I always keep a bottle near"

2007-02-23T21:44:00.000Z

Altogether now: No! No! No!

"Magic stays where myth remains"

2007-02-22T23:44:00.000Z

Last night, I found myself in the midst of a pop sandwich (a popwich, if you will). But let me start from the beginning dear readers. After much badgering of my friends, I have yet to persuade them to attend a Popjustice night with me. So when Popjustice Live was announced with Siobhan Donaghy DJing as part of the bill, I managed to rope a friend and fellow Siobhan fan into going. To be honest, we were both a little grumpy and very tired and it was Wednesday which meant that we were missing a solid 4 hours of good television, so we weren't really in the mood for electropop (Canadian or not).

Being my rather shambolic self as usual, I turned up late which meant we missed all but half a song of Trademark's set. I was thoroughly enjoying the Stefy set when I made the mistake of striking up conversation with a drunken suit with a severe saliva regulation impediment. Thankfully it was after Stefy performed Chelsea but I would have rather not have had to answer the same question three times ("So, what kind of music is this?") I think that The Suit got the wrong end of the stick when I told him that I was there for the DJ and he started a monologue about electro and house (no, me neither). I stopped listening about halfway because I started staring at a man seated nearby because I was fairly convinced that it was Aled from the Chris Moyles Show.

Despite Martina Dragonette's highly entertaining stage banter re: rubberised pants (or something like that, I was very tired and a little gin-soaked), I didn't enjoy their set so much. So it was halfway through that we decided to decamp to the toilets and search for a seat. As I was coming out of my cubicle, who was standing before me but Siobhan in a lovely spangly green dress? Ohmigod! I decided that it was best not to engage a popstrel in conversation whilst she was making a beeline for a toilet cubicle. Walking out of the toilets, who did I bump into but Stefy (of Stefy, naturellment) in a lovely spangly black dress? Ohmigod! For those of you readers who are lacking in imagination, I have reconstructed this popwhich in JPEG form with the aid of Google:

AMAZING.

(N.B. Sadly, Siobhan didn't have a bird on her head or neither did I go dressed as Joan of Arc. Stefy does really have the fantastic hair as the photo suggests though.)

And even more A to the Mazing, when we emerged from the toilet and found a sofa by the DJ booth, Dragonette struck up their cover of Lil' Chris's Gettin' Enough. I would type AMAZING again here but I think my head might start spinning around and explode in the manner of a Cyberman.

So, all in all, a rather poptastic evening which was marred somewhat by my going home early and downloading the Music & Lyrics soundtrack. (That will explain the presence of Hugh Grant in my last.fm chart next week)

Another thing that makes me sad was to be found in my inbox this evening:

"You wanna thrilla in mah nilla?"

2007-02-15T01:22:00.000Z

OK, so I'm a little late in coming around to the charms of Robyn but she is officially my new favourite pop star after seeing this video. In homage to the costumetasticness of Konichiwa Bitches, I present to you a series of self-portraits entitled Hats Ahoy!. This is what a week without your boss or your friends at work will drive you to:

l-r: my best impressions of Minnie Mouse; scary Mardi Gras person (or a raven); Fagin; a crusader and a saucy carnival lady.

I went to see Music & Lyrics last night which was somewhat underwhelming. As it is rather late considering it's a school night and I've already spent two hours of my life on this film I shall condense my thoughts: no plot to speak of; terrible dialogue and even ropier lyrics; it's a sign that the funniest part of the film is right at the beginning and also in the line "My face is in the butter"; the poor, half-hearted pop parodies only serve to display the writer's passing acquaintance with advances in pop music since the split of Wham!; Hugh Grant's dancing hasn't really improved since his crab dance in Love Actually.

It seems that my Pictionary skills aren't quite up to scratch yet (judging from the guesses so far). Anyway, the landmarks of pop culture that I was trying to reproduce through the magic of biro and paper were: Toy Story, Angel and Love Machine by Girls Aloud. (No sniggering at the back please.)

"I don't know what you do but I stagger and fall / Trip up in my shoes when I'm walking with you"

2007-02-10T23:19:00.000Z

11:22pm on a Saturday and I have spent the last hour quite happily bellowing along to my new favourite mix of Patrick Wolf, Siobhan Donaghy, The Cure and All Saints whilst cleaning. It seems that I have metamorphosed into Nicky Wire circa This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours. Fear not, I shan't spend the remainder of this entry waxing lyrical upon the subject of Dyson vacuums but it does seem that I find cleaning and organising somewhat relaxing.

Ah, many a happy hour has been spent catagorising my vast collection of cosmetics into themed bags. The library assistant in me revels in catagorising my possessions for easy access. Thus, when I bought a lovely new faux-antique chest of drawers from IKEA, I decided that it would be rather a stroke of genius to split all my products into two separate drawers: face and hair. Imagine my horror when I emptied my hair drawer to find this (warning: not for the faint of heart):

Eww.

Anyway, armed with a bumper pack of baby wipes and Mr Sheen, this is what my hair and face drawers look like now:

So, rather excitingly we had snow in London this week and it actually managed to settle. Sadly no snowcapades for me as by the time I made it out of the door some pesky schoolkids had scraped all the snow off my car. Surely there is some legislation regarding the ownership of the snow on your car? Snow isn't as fun when you have to go to work. How I long to be a student again so that I can make a Snow Sarah Jessica Parker like I did last year. Le sigh. Anyway, here are some generic snow pictures:

I read in one of those free London rags that the leisure activity du jour for young, hip gunslingers nowadays is to go to Cargo and play board games. I must say, as terribly organic-raspberry-flavoured-beer as this concept sounds, I'm rather intrigued. Ever since myself and my friends have taken up poker, we have branched out into board games and our current favourite is Pictionary. Before I got around to buying a Pictionary board, we just improvised with good old fashioned tree pulp and ink. So, quick quiz for you gentle readers - what am I trying to portray through the medium of biro and A4 medium lined paper?

"Let me put you in the major key"

2007-02-09T22:08:00.000Z

Nouvelle Année Heureuse! OK, it's a little belated but I do mean it wholeheartedly gentle readers. My seemingly callous abandonment of this blog can partly be blamed on the technological tempest that I weathered in between July and October of last year but also because I have foolishly taken on a 40-hour working week. I know this sounds terribly naive of me but where do people get the time to live a full and varied cultural and social life (read: television watching and blogging) whilst working full-time?? I shall level with you dear readers, I am struggling. I currently am behind on Desperate Housewives by two episodes, The O.C. by one and I completely missed the pantaloon-a-thon that was Torchwood...quelle horreur!

Fear not, I am working my way through Torchwood from my Amazon rental list and BBC3 repeats. Preliminary verdict: My! Russell T. Davies clearly worships at the temple of Whedon, doesn't he? If he hadn't stated it before, he very obviously intends Torchwood to be the Angel to Doctor Who's Buffy. Everything from the (admittedly gorgeous) noir-ish shots of Cardiff's roadways lit by the sulfurous glow of the streetlamps to a "Mr. Billowy-Coat King of Pain" He even stole the trick of killing off a supposed regular cast member in the first episode! (Remember Jesse anyone?) Anyway, Buffyverse comparisons aside, it was a promising concept which was all too quickly ruined with gratuitous lesbianism and the revelation that Captain Jack is impervious to any blade, bullet or other blunt object you care to hurl at him, thus sucking any suspense out of the whole show. Also, apparently period military = gay. Huh. Who knew? Certainly not Donny Tourette, Pete Doherty or any other pavement-licking Camden urchin I can think of.

I despair of the state of music in Space Year 2007 if all it takes is a tattered straw boater and skinny jeans is all it takes to become a chart sensation. (Yes, The Kooks, I am talking to you. And don't even get me started on The View who seem to be shamlessly plundering the back catalogue of The Proclaimers.) All this is more reason to turn to the bright side of pop. Reasons to be cheerful:

- Patrick Wolf - I am new to the charms of the ruddy-haired one but how can anyone not be won over by the Technicolour charms of The Magic Position? And I don't mean Technicolour in the giddy-E-number-rush of the like that Mika is peddling. Which is not to say that I am not fond of the love child of Elton John and Freddie Mercury who was adopted by Jake Shears but there is so much more density and lushness to be found in The Magic Position. You have to love a pop urchin who is beloved by both the Popjustice and Pitchfork readership. You also have to love a boy who looks like the love child of David Bowie and a matador:

More reasons to love Patrick Wolf: he has hair the colour of Nicola Roberts and Siobhan Donaghy (which as we well know equals a precious and underrated pop talent); he's an precocious electro-folk multi-instrumentalist who has a widescreen pop vision and the second single, The Magic Position is a joyous, churchy Motown stomp which is just on the right side of twee (think bluebirds, lemonade and crayons). Oh, it also has the cheeriest ending to a pop song...EVER. Listen

- Sophie Ellis-Bextor is back, hurrah! Not only does the Blondie-tastic comeback single Catch You slot neatly into the All Time Top Five Songs About Stalking but the video also pays homage to Venice's finest celluloid moments (namely, Like A Virgin and Don't Look Now):

More reasons to love this video: the starring role of the coffee cup; the faux-sailor tattoo that Mrs. One-of-The-Feeling is sporting; the abundance of puposeful pointing and especially the amazing bit at 1:18 where Sophie does a nifty bow and arrow gesture. It'll become a dance sensation, mark my words.

The album is called Trip The Light Fantastic and thus hopefully is, in the grand tradition of all things pop, a paen to the joys of dance. (See Madonna, Britney, the Girls of Allowedness etc etc). If you thought that Catch Me was good wait until you hear releases Me & My Imagination which reunites SEB and disco strings. Hoorah!

- Dame Lily of Allen is releasing Alfie which doesn't make sense as a single (hence the double A-side with the far superior Shame For You) until you see the AMAZING video:

Not since Bender and Futurama has cartoon porn been used so well.

Lily seems to be doing well in the US (in no small part due to the hype generated by bloggers) and her album was released there last week. It seems that all the clearence issues that Parlophone had with Nan, You're A Window Shopper at the time of Alright, Still's British release have been resolved for the US release and it is included after Alfie along with Mark Ronson's saccharine-soul remix of Smile which is currently sneaking its way up my last.fm charts.

- Mutya Buena Fierce as she may be, the material that was premiered on her myspace was dreary paint-by-numbers r'n'b balladry that sounded like a 90s throwback produced by Babyface. That was until Paperbag surfaced recently which is infinately more interesting. Try to imagine if you will, a pop gem that combines the zing and sweetness of Overload and the sass of Freak Like Me (arguably two of the finest points of the Sugababes' career) and you will find Paperbag. Not only is it a contender for All Time Top Five Break-Up Songs but it also manages to employ a metaphor previously unknown in pop: the paper bag as a failed relationship. Sample lyric: "I don't know how it can fit / Cos it's all we were / It's all we ever had / (Memories) / Sitting all alone in a paper bag / Maybe I should get rid of it / But it's all the love / It's all the dreams we had / (You and me) / Sitting on the shelf in a paper bag." AMAZING.

- McFly Not only is Motion In The Ocean surprisingly good (in fact, I would venture so far as to suggest that it might be their best album yet. Which isn't much considering that this is only their third album and Wonderland doesn't even really count it was that bad. But anyway...) It seems that the love-child-of-Gary-Barlow, otherwise known as Tom Fletcher, has allowed Dougie-penned track onto the album and it is by far the best thing in the McFly "cannon". If I were to utter the phrase "homage to Bohemian Rhapsody", I would probably scare you off the track. So, instead I shall post this picture which manages to convey how utterly stupid-yet-brilliant Transylvania is:

Reasons to love Transylvania: Dougie's rather endearing vocals which just fall on the right side of adolescent boy and it combines my favourite period of history with jaunty boy band pop - apparently the song tells the bodice-ripping story of Anne Boleyn's affair with a farmboy (!!)

Note: My Chemical Romance fans will be pleased to know that Gerard Way has joined McFly:

Sugagirls vs. Babes Aloud Well, something like that anyway. Like so many things in life, the prospect of this was so much more appetising than the reality of it.

Reasons I should love Walk This Way: it's my two favourite girlbands...ever! in a pop-off; the first half of the video where they pay tribute to Aerosmith and Run DMC by arguing (via the medium of music) through a wall; the second half the video where they have a dance-off on a nice glossy catwalk and swing aesthetically-pleasing retro microphones at each other and the fact that had this never been recorded, the world would never have been treated to Nicola Roberts in a giant comedy foam appendage:

Hmm. Maybe it is, as they say, a grower.

In other news: I am becoming increasingly convinced that the DJing world needs me. I was out at The Roxy last weekend and after enduring seven minutes of my brain dribbling out of my ears (read: The Stone Roses I Wanna Be Adored), I decided to take the situation in hand and make some requests. Not only were my choices suitably poptastic but also brought the masses flocking to the dancefloor. Clearly, you cannot trust a DJ who plays Jump (For My Love) when a Girls of Allowedness track is requested. So, a second trip to the DJ booth was required to rectify the situation and lo and behold, witness a mass of sweaty drunks attempting to recreate the dance routine for Love Machine. My second choice of Boney M's Daddy Cool also rather brought the house down, if I do say so myself.

Another reason to be quite pleased with myself: I managed to install an Airport Extreme card in my eMac and crack the Dark Arts required to print wirelessly (!)

Another thing I would quite like to write about but sadly don't have enough time for because I have work tomorrow morning (boo hoo, etc etc): I managed to wrangle myself a pair of tickets for the free preview screening of Hot Fuzz yesterday. Not only is it the best film I have seen all year (yes, I know it is only February but still) it has also managed to rekindle my inappropriate crush on Simon Pegg. Hurrah!

"I get a chick fit when I hear your name I totally flip"

2006-10-31T23:30:00.000Z

Joyeux anniversaire à moi! Yes dear readers, it's that time of the year. I am mourning the passing of yet another year of my existence. In truth, I'm not as melancholy as I have been about past birthdays, even though I did bake myself a birthday cake today. (Unfortunately the garishly tinted concoction you see adorning this entry isn't said cake. That was a cake I baked for someone else's birthday. I made an ill-advised foray into the world of flourless cakes today. I've never encountered a cake that is crisp on the outside and a mousse on the inside. I imagine that a Baked Alaska isn't far off.)

Anyway, perhaps my joyous demeanour can be attributed to a few things:

- I had an excellent time in Sheffield this weekend. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy long distance train journeys. Not only does it remind me of my backpacking exploits this summer but it gives me a chance for an hour or two of uninterrupted reading. I pretty much finished Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox between the outbound and return journeys. I end up playing a game with myself on train journeys of trying to decide who I'd be friends with on the basis of their reading material. Anyone wielding a candy-coloured-gold-lettered novel is immediately ruled out. As are those who are reading classics (inevitably students who are furiously cramming). It's all a little silly anyway as I decided a long time ago that points of commonality (taste-wise at least) between people becomes increasingly irrelevent the longer you know them.
- Anyway, back to the point, staying with Steph in Sheffield allowed me to pretend I was a student proper for a weekend. A proper student union! A shared house! Campuses! (Campii?) Also, Lily Allen was fabulous from start to finish - even despite the dodgy Keane cover! Even despite the fact that I was stuck behind a ridiculously tall man for most of it! Even though my concert photography skills are still rather shoddy! I did get a few nice ones though:

- I was contemplating staying on an extra day in Sheffield as I had the day off work on Monday anyway but I decided that I'd better let Steph get on with her work. So I headed home late Sunday night and blissfully had a full day to myself on Monday. I managed to catch up with most of my blog reading in the morning. Then realising that it was Monday and it was £2.99 ticket day at Peckham Plex, I hurriedly got ready and headed out to see The History Boys. As I got there a little late, I spent the first twenty minutes trying to desperately figure out what was going on and the rest of the time thoroughly enjoying it and ogling the lovely Stephen Campbell Moore (who incidentally I think is the secret love child of Hugh Laurie and Toby Stephens.) As a film I think it could have strayed a little further from the stage, slapping a good soundtrack on top of the play does not a film make. Also, I think that perhaps using the original cast showed a little too much, there were a few moments of overemoting which aren't so noticeable from five rows back in the National Theatre, but ten feet high in Peckham, it becomes a little overegged. Anyway, all this doesn't detract from the fact that I desperately want to see the West End revival at the end of this year. Watching the scene where Posner recites Hardy to Hector reminded me of something Ted Hughes (my latest literary crush, even despite his status as a domestic despot) said about the lost art of learning poems off by heart. I've decided that I should at least learn Andrew Marvell's To His Coy Mistress. Anyway, with this in mind, I headed to Borders and bought an anthology and also Why Don't Penguins Feet Freeze?, The End and Wicked. To top off a lovely day, I got given a free bar of Green & Black's milk chocolate by the nice lady in Borders. Slurp.
- I managed to win (on eBay that is) a pair of tickets for The Feeling on Friday. MOR-tastic!
- I'm going to a free preview screening of Sixty Six on Thursday. Even the presence of Catherine Tate in this film doesn't put me off. Although the plot hinging on the 1966 World Cup final does make me a little anxious.

I stupidly forgot to tape both The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing this weekend, so I am feeling a little culturally deprived. So all I have to say on the subject is that I think that these two were separated at birth:

Also, general public, you are almost as moronic as Louis Walsh. I guess I shouldn't expect any less of you than to vote out Dionne who is the British Beyonce (by virtue alone of being possessed by the spirit of Tina Turner) but please please please don't vote out lovely Eton Road because that means that in all likelihood I will lose my X Factor sweepstake with my friends. Thank you and goodnight.

"He walks away / The sun goes down / He takes the day"

2006-10-28T00:18:00.000Z

A few things:

- I have my beloved broadband connection back!
- Well, technically I had it back ages ago. Other technological issues arose which meant me having to completely wipe my hard drive without being able to back anything up.
- Which meant I lost my beloved monkey photos from Longleat. I no longer have any evidence that I once had a Rhesus monkey perched on my wing mirror.
- I got my hair cut.
- I wanted it to look like this:

- Instead it looks like this*:

Anyway, onto more pressing matters, namely pop. Not only does November herald my birthday but also The Sound of Girls Aloud (complete with endearingly shoddy cover art) and Overloaded: The Singles Collection. Hurrah! To celebrate my (whisper it) 23rd this year, I am attending more gigs that I have done in the past five years. Tomorrow, it's Lily Allen in Sheffield, next week, everybody's favourite 70s MOR rockers, The Feeling and the week after that, the Winehouse. Expect to find me bellowing "no! no! no!" during Rehab (surely if there is any modern pop song that is designed to be a call and response song, it's Rehab??)

I went to see Bent tonight. Being somewhat vertically challenged, I was pleased to discover that I had third row centre tickets and then within the opening five minutes of the play, Alan Cumming proceeds to bare his rump to an imaginary mirror and the audience. Anyway, naked camp frolicking aside, I thoroughly enjoyed the play, despite the fact that the transitions between high camp comedy and the more harrowing moments. I can't decide what was more disturbing - the fact that the Stormtroopers had more than a whiff of The Producers about them or the fact that I found one of them rather attractive. Nevermind. It's bedtime for me now so I can direct my mind towards more inane and innocuous matters such as the book about the history of shoes that I'm reading. Expect an update soon either raving or slating Lily Allen. Pip pip.

* This may have something to do with the fact that I don't have Anne Hathaway's face.

"Jumping on my tutu"

2006-10-04T13:36:00.000Z

A contender for Pop Lyric of the Year I think you'll agree dear readers.
Perhaps only to be rivalled by Amy Winehouse's new material which includes
"crying on the kitchen floor" and alcoholic girlband soul about rehab.
Fabulous. Anyway, I was rather hoping that my next blog entry was going to
be from home but alas it isn't meant to be. As soon as I wriggle free from
the dastardly clutches of Orange and into bed with BT, my eMac decides to
die on me. Perhaps die is a bit of an exaggeration because it's just moving
v-e-r-y slowly. Nevertheless, last night found me slumped across the desk,
head resting against monitor, moaning softly to myself. Rather fortuitously,
I had the foresight to buy AppleCare so I shall be darkening their helpline
shortly demanding that my iTunes library be restored to its former glory.

Anyway, seeing as I'm writing from work, I sadly don't have the time to go
into why the references to kitchens in pop lyrics constitute an amazing
track but there is time to say the following:

- Even though the newest Girls Aloud ode has made it into my subject line
for this entry, I have only grown to love it in the past 72 hours. I
absolutely hated it for the previous two weeks. I still think that the new
Sugababes single beats it. With a brick wrapped in a batwing jumper. Not
only does it cram the most sexual euphemisms into any pop song known to man
but it's a welcome move away from the pop-electro Xenomania sound which was
become far too common. (You know it's dead when Hilary Duff jumps on the
bandwagon.)
- It has been said before but I think it is worth saying again that the new
Amy Winehouse material from her forthcoming album, "Back to Black", firmly
trounces La Aguilera's "old-school" sound. I know that 2006 is going to be
touted as Timbaland's year but I have loved all of Mark Ronson's productions
this year. (Insert your own joke about me loving Mark Ronson's horns.)
- "That Mitchell and Webb look" has been vaguely disappointing. There are
some excellent sketches ("That's Numberwang!" "You hold your ladle like a
pen!") and some terrible ones that should have seen the cutting room floor
(the snooker commentators, I mean you.)
- "Extras" has been vaguely disappointing. There are some excellent moments
("I've done it with a girl. Intercourse-wise" - a line worthy of Alan
Partridge I think you'll agree dear readers) and some terrible moments (all
of episode two).

Anyway, I have been on my lunch break for an hour and a half so I think it's
time to finish my tuna and sweetcorn sesame sub and bid you adieu. And also
shoutout to Lawrence who stumbled across me recently. Damn you and your wily
internet black magic ways. Pip pip.

"My heart could take a chance / But my two feet can't find a way"

2006-08-11T15:19:00.000Z

Another reason to get a new job: I have just witnessed the amphibian
equivalent of an orgy. I walked in on the unsavoury yet compelling sight of
two terrapins doing the wild thing whilst the other terrapins crowded around
silently watching. My exclaimation of surprise sent them all flying back
into the pool (they're very timid creatures). Anyway, luckily for me (well I
hope so at least) I have an interview for a traineeship on Monday. Quiver,
quake, eep.

I'm once again secretly blogging from work as Orange are completely useless.
So, only a quick entry I'm afraid but time enough for a few thoughts:

- Ronan Keating is back. If that isn't bad enough, the
old-lady-contigent-botherer has wrapped his raspy tonsils around MOR radio
favourite, "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls.
- Pop snob that I am, Mr J.T's comeback, "SexyBack" has been tainted by
everyone else loving it. Taking it's place in the repeat plays chart is the
new Scissor Sisters ditty, "I Don't Feel Like Dancing".
- Reasons why "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" is a possible contender for Best
Moments in Pop 2006: 1) It's disco-ball glitter excess in 3 minutes but it's
about NOT wanting to dance. 2) It features handclaps (I refer you back to my
thesis regarding the pop song and handclaps.) 3) The lyric "you got so many
colours / make a blind man so confused" is almost on a par in terms of pop
nonsense as "they call me Thomas / last name Crown" from Nelly Furtado's
"Promiscuous". Anyway, had I but world enough and time, I would make an All
Time Top Five Dance Songs About Dancing.
- I got my degree results and I officially have a 2:1 in English Literature.
Hurrah! (But boo that it wasn't a first. Nevermind. I must not be
ungrateful.)
- Big Brother is ending soon and the television will be back to normal!
- But in the meantime there is always the Studio Ghibli season on FilmFour
to entertain me. ("Princess Mononoke" yay!)
- Four words: Snakes On A Plane (!!!)

Okay, I have to get back to the pressing business of writing barcode numbers
onto posters. Sigh.

"how many sugars would you like in your tea?"

2006-07-17T09:55:00.000Z

Warning: Ranty entry ahead.

My broadband has ceased working and my life is literally falling apart
without the presence of the Internet. I'm writing this entry from work
(where the electricity seems to have blown out in half the building so
consequently I'm writing this from the only computer that is working at the
moment, natch. It does mean that I have to sit in the reception area with
the creepy security guard, hoping against hope that he won't make awkward
conversation with me. Thankfully, he seems to have disappeared to tamper
with the terrapins. Or something to that effect) so unfortunately, no
YouTubery today. However, being at work and having just discharged a ferret
hand puppet means that I can bring this fact to you from the hand puppet
tag: "The black-footed ferret is the rarest mammal in North America. It is a
seriously endangered species." Scintillating, no?

Also, I phoned up Orange last night to see if there was anything they could
do about my broadband (or lack of thereof) but I knew that it was a doomed
cause as my livebox pages kept on uttering the doom-laden phrase "PPP server
down" (what does it meeaaann?? Sigh.) Still on the plus side, the technician
who I was on the phone with had a lovely Geordie accent and I spent the 15
minutes of the call ineptly flirting with him. (Yes, I do so badly need to
get a life. Maybe the lack of Internet will force my hand on this front. On
the other hand, I'll probably just spend more time trying to finish Cloud
Atlas and watch Serenity again and cry over Wash's death and
marvel over Simon's hitherto unseen muscular back. Anyway.) More reasons for
the rant: I have a headache due to my alice band which is too small for my
head; my back is roasting from sitting in front of this window; I didn't win
the Lily Allen Bush Hall ticket competition (but I thoroughly recommend Music Like Dirt anyway for
high-quality, albeit slightly more indie music blogging) and I'm starving
and the toaster isn't working. If the Turkish cafe don't have any meze boxes
left for lunch, I shall have a nervous breakdown of such a magnitude that
I'll probably collapse in a crumpled sobbing heap in the middle of
Camberwell. So, the lovely Geordie tech said that it might be five days
(five days!!) before I get my broadband back so I shall be off-radar for a
while. I'm off to actually do some work (on the other hand, I'm tempted to
sling the boa constrictor hand puppet around my neck and pretend that I'm
Britney), so I bid you a tearful farewell dear readers. Until we meet again,
pip pip.

"glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstar is sucked into the supermassive"

2006-07-15T00:48:00.000Z

I never thought that I would see the day where I got bored just lazing around at home all day but I reached that particular nadir around Tuesday. Rather fortuitously, on Wednesday I got a phone call from my boss asking me whether I was free to work today and I jumped at the chance. I think I had a little of the first-night-of-school type nerves because I couldn't get to sleep until about 3am (and even that was under the duress of switching the light out and squeezing my eyes shut, trying to will myself to sleep) and then woke up at 7am a whole hour before my alarm was due to go off. I decided that rather than risk falling asleep again and waking up grumpy because I was awoken by my alarm, I would just get an early start.

So, after loading up my iPod with some new goodies, I set out with a spring in my step and decided to walk to work with the Lily Allen chirruping in my ears. I used to walk everywhere before I learnt how to drive so I've become progressively more and more lazy in the past few years. So, you can imagine how chuffed I was to discover that I beat my driving time to work and walked there in 25 minutes. Yay. I arrived at work to discover no-one there and no work to do so I spent my morning pottering around, making cups of tea with pilfered posh organic green tea bags and doing the Heat crossword. Then Lindsey arrived toting the Green & Black's Chocolate Cook Book, so naturellement another half an hour was spent bookmarking everything I want to bake. I have relatively adventurous gastronomic tastes but even I can't stomach the idea of savoury chocolate recipes. (Swedish Chocolate Coffee Lamb anyone? Quote: "Don't dare tell your friends what's in this dish until they have eaten it." How about Chocolate Courgette Loaf or Chilean Chocolate Sausages? Bleurgh.) However, my interest was piqued by the Aztec-esque recipes for Chocolate Chilli Muffins and proper Xocolatl (very Mrs. Coulter-esque), so I think my weekend will be spent melting copious amounts of pricey organic chocolate.

As my productivity took a sharp decrease after lunch as my lack of sleep hit me, I suddenly found myself transfixed by my waggling fingers encased in a bumblebee glove puppet. A whole day of working in a separate room on your own with only Radio 1 for company will do that to you. I was determined not to perpetuate the vicious circle of messed-up sleep patterns by falling asleep as soon as I got home but rather predictably I failed. Only to be woken up by a voicemail from Lindsey. She had phoned to brag about having blagged her way into the filming of Transmission as it was being filmed at her friend's art studio. Meaty chunks of showbiz gossip for you: Lauren Laverne apparently "smells very nice, she obviously wears some kind of cocoa butter" and Steve Jones looks "very haggard close up." Also, the audience of Transmission was made up of "lots of screaming girls and boys with haircuts." Needless to say, I think my dear friend was more than a little gin-soaked. She's probably throwing her knickers at Jose Gonzalez as I type.

I was going to do a Top Five of talky bits in songs but I still haven't thought of five yet. So instead...

Top Five YouTubes of the Week

One // Jump! It's the Aliens of London

Yes, it's a Girls Aloud/Doctor Who mash-up. Goodness me, I think I might need a cold shower.

Two // "Why you gotta play that song so loud?"

Arise Dame Billie of Piper for possible the best Smash Hits Poll Winner's Party performance...ever. It's Because We Want To performed in 18th century ballgowns. AMAZING. It is scientific fact that any pop performance conducted in period gear is instantly elevated to galactic levels of pop greatness. (See also Biz Markie's Just A Friend.)

Three // The Doctor Dance

I know, more Doctor Who YouTubery but being quite a fan of the YouTube karaoke phenomenon, how could I resist watching an 11 year old boy doing a rather demented arms aloft dance to the closing credits theme tune?

Four // RIP TOTP

An ode to the institution that is Top of the Pops (and Fearne Cotton). "Jungle is massiv". Ahem.

Five // Ian Wright: Pundit

Obviously worth watching for Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's sketch on England footballing tactics (yes, even fervent anti-football viewers such as myself found this entertaining). However, all this is overshadowed by two things: Ian Wright's distinctly un-PC comment and the embarassed silence that ensued afterwards.

Anyway, I am off to try and cram in another film before I go to bed because the last thing I watched was The Ring 2 and I need something to take my mind off the video nasty heebie jeebies. I bid you all bonne nuit and happy weekend!

"This is the last story I'll ever tell..."

2006-07-12T01:40:00.000Z

So, last Doctor Who of the season and last Doctor Who with Rose Tyler in the passenger seat. I think I've just about recovered from crying over the departure of Dame Billie of Piper to sufficiently write my customary review in note form for Army of Ghosts/Doomsday:

- Ooh, I do enjoy a Doctor Who two-parter and I fully agree with Charlie Brooker that next season is definately time to wheel out a three or four-part story (preferably scripted by Mark Gatiss rather than Russell T. Davis or Steven Moffat - no more cringey pop culture references and jokes about bananas please Doctor Who script writers. Thank you!)
- Not so much a comment about the episode but the bit in Army of Ghosts where the ghosts are milling about a square amongst some children playing is right outside where I work. So you can imagine I got quite spooked walking through said square the next day to go to work, I kept expecting to be attacked by a non-corporeal Cyberman.
- Also again, not so much a comment on the episode but I so knew those ghosts were Cybermen in disguise.
- I liked all the random Doctor&Rose adventures that we glimpsed at the beginning of Army of Ghosts. And also Rose on the bus eating chips.
- How excited was I to see yet another shoutout to Peckham in a Doctor Who episode? Apparently, the Powell estate is located in SE15 - Rose a Peckham girl? Yay.
- I know it's overegging the whole Number-Ten-does-domestic thing but I loved the part with Jackie planting a huge one on the Doctor.
- It's nice to know that in the not-too distant future, office IM systems will still be used to conduct clandestine stationary cupboard affairs. (By the way, having little office experience myself, do such office IM systems even exist or are they a myth of TV and film land?)
- So why didn't anyone notice that the office lovebirds had suddenly taken to wearing two flashing headsets each?
- A double-thumbs up for lots of Jackie running about in inappropriate clothing, hurrah!
- And an even bigger yay for the return of everybody's favourite freedom-fighting-couple-with-no-homoerotic-undertones-whatsoever, Mickey and Jake!
- Excellent to see ex-Eastenders cast members being put to use! Although, both you dear reader and myself know that I am really referring to the fabulous Goddess with Corkscrew Mop, Tracey-Ann Oberman and not that-other-one-who-was-out-of-the-Ferreiras. I wish that Yvonne hadn't died though because she would have elevated the inevitably dodgy Torchwood to at least so-bad-it's-good.
- Although, Yvonne's death did mean that we got to see Cybertears cried from Cybereyes, yay.
- But really, the final fifteen minutes of this two-parter stole the show. Maybe for other less-'shipper inclined minds, the Dalek vs. Cyberman showdown was the highlight of this season's finale (all I can say is the playground taunts amused me greatly and that's about the point where I lost interest in the whole enterprise). However, being hopelessly girly and squishy inside (well, I suppose everyone is literally squishy inside but I digress) I wanted to see whether the Doctor and Rose would finally make plain what we've all seen since day one (ah, he had her at hello-quick-get-out-of-the-way-of-those-murderous-mannequins.) Even though there have been Portents of Doom all season, it broke my little 'shipper heart into teeny tiny pieces. The Doctor might travel across galaxies and through eras, epochs and aeons but he seems destined to make the same mistake and it's the same mistake that he made with Sarah-Jane that is repeating itself with Rose.
- Catherine Tate as the Bride? Let us speak no more of it and postpone any scathing judgement until Christmas.

Anyway, I should just prise myself away from fantasy television universes and transport myself firmly back into boring no-time-travel reality. I spent a rather enjoyable day playing tour guide to Steph's cousin today and seeing as it was a gloriously sunny day, we decided that Greenwich would be the perfect antidote to the other grimy tourist attractions of London.

So, I decided that any trip to Greenwich should definately incorporate a visit to the meridian line and the Royal Observatory which is located in my favourite of the Royal Parks, Greenwich Park. Given that the sun was beating down upon our heads and we had just climbed up a rather steep hill to get to the meridian line and observatory, I was too busy thinking about how dehydrated I was to pay attention to the helpful information boards telling me what the meridian line actually was. (I know it's got something to do with longitudinal and latidutinal lines but beyond that, I'm hopelessly flailing about in geographical terminology.) Then I remembered that tucked away in a dark corner of Greenwich Park is a deer enclosure, so we went trampling through some squirrel-infested undergrowth in search of the deer.

(A little detour: After visiting Dublin Zoo a few years ago, I've been quite a fan of zoos ever since but it's been somewhat of a sore subject betwixt myself and Steph after we had an argument about the living conditions of the animals. Anyway, ever since then the subject of a trip to a zoo has never been broached but I'd forgotten about the existance of safari parks such as Longleat and Whipsnade. Anyway, I mentioned to Steph that we should visit a safari park this summer and that I don't mind having my car pulled apart by monkeys, so I have spent the evening researching both parks and have thus far not decided which one is more worthy of my patronage. Any suggestions would be heartily welcomed dear readers.)

After a quick wander around the pretty but dull Queen's House in the grounds of the National Maritime Museum, it was off to gawk at the Cutty Sark and debate about whether we could be bothered to go under the foot tunnel (verdict: no, it was too hot and really, all we wanted was an iced beverage and to sit in the air-conditioned darkness of the cinema, entertained by a grease-painted Johnny Depp.) So, Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest it was then. I was rather disappointed by the first installment and the second installment lived up to the first's reputation. When will Gore Verbinski learn that you can't just string together a bunch of entertaining scenes featuring Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow and not-so-entertaining-as-much-as-coma-inducing scenes with Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightly (why I am the only one who can see the resemblance between Knightly and a barracuda?) and label it 'summer blockbuster'? So Pirates II in summary: Johnny Depp and excellent CGI, yay, rest of the film (including the unresolved ending), boo.

In other news: American Apparel are perhaps taking political correctness a little too far.

I seem to be plagued with terminal indecision lately. It took me four days to write this entry (but I guess I can attribute that to laziness more than indecisiveness). I'm still trying to decide whether to leave my job or not and now I have the additional worry about whether to apply for this thing to train as a court reporter/stenographer or not. (I mainly can't decide whether it sounds interesting or terminally dull.) I have just spent the last half hour trying to decide whether I should do something with my day tomorrow and what I should do with my day if I do anything at all. The only thing that I gleaned from this was that I need more friends.

Last.fm have finally assigned me some neighbours and I have to say, it's somewhat of a let down. It's just a bunch of people who have exactly the same musical taste as me. (Which is exactly what it is so I don't know why I was so excited about it in the first place.) However, a perk of Last.fm is that everybody on the interweb can stalk me (musically speaking) and see that just now, I was listening to Blur's To The End. To this end, there's a stripy widget hanging about on the right-hand side somewhere which will enable you to carry out said aural stalkage. (N.B. If the list just shows up as Justin Timberlake - Sexyback, there is no need to readjust your sets. I really do listen to that track that much.)

Speaking of Mr. J.T.'s poptastic return, 2006 seems to be the year of the comeback. First, Take That bestow us with their craggy-yet-still-strangely-attractive presences, then Justin comes back looking like this:

But ignore the mysterious hanky and the fedora at a rakish angle! Instead, go listen to the Prince-a-licious new single Sexyback featuring (as all the best pop songs do) references to S&M sexual practices and the particularly excellent bit where some man in the background bellows "take 'em to the chorus!!" (Which is on a par with Rachel Stevens politely asking for the producer to "turn down the track a little please" in Negotiate With Love.) More reasons why Sexyback should be a summer 'choon':

- The triumphant return of the vocoder, saved from the ignonimity of last being used by Cher.
- Sexyback sounds a bit like Maneater's wife-beater wearing cousin.
- There's a very Britney-esque "yeah!" that intermittently appears in the background.
- Sexyback also sounds very much like JC Chasez's material (all of which was done better by JC) but hurrah for mucky boy pop being back in the charts!
- Like all great pop songs, the lyrics make absolutely no sense whatsoever ("I'm bringin' the sexy back / them other boys don't know how to act")
- All the promotional pictures vaguely makes Justin look like a criminal which is just the proverbial cherry on top of the proverbial icing on top of the proverbial cake.

And if that isn't enough, Beyonce is back with Crazy in Love part deux, this time entitled Deja Vu. Let's see:

- Big honking horn section? Tick.
- Cameo by Jay-Z? Tick.
- Beyonce wailing in her trademark it's-the-end-of-the-world manner? Tick.

But don't let this put you off, the intro should be enough to win you over (Beyonce intoning "Bass...hi-hat...808"). If you don't already love it for that bit then somewhere around the 3 minute mark, you have to have a heart of stone to not adore the handclap breakdown. Yes, a handclap breakdown. It has to be heard to be believed. Amazing.

Finally, Christina Aguilera, everybody's favourite mucky popstrel is back back back and seems to be releasing some kind of 1920s jazz concept-pop album. Which sounds so absurd it has to be fabulous. I have to admit, Ain't No Other Man didn't make much of an impression on me on first hearing. But then, late one night, I caught the video on TMF and it completely changed my mind:

Reasons to love Ain't No Other Man:

- The jazzy torch song at the beginning and end of the video.
- Christina prancing around in a gusset.
- Christina prancing around in rhinestone headphones.
- The perfectly synchronised dance routine (take note Girls Aloud)
- Christina's Tina-Turner-esque dance freak out at the end.

Other poptastic things to look forward to: Lily Allen's forthcoming album; the Jessica Simpson single (which I had previously condemned for being a terrible rip-off of Madonna's Holiday but have now embraced for the very same reasons); the as-yet-untitled Siobhan Donaghy album which features my new summer anthem, Sometimes; Pink releasing U + Ur Hand, a pop-punk ode to masturbation. Poptastic!

"nothing left inside this old cathedral / just these sad, lonely spires"

2006-07-05T13:07:00.000Z

My week has been plagued with thoughts of this stupid re-sit essay. In a rather typical fashion, this hasn't sent me flying to the keyboard in an effort to pound out 4000 words post haste, rather it has inspired me to take procrastination to new heights. (Even by my own standards.)

Saturday marked a return to work for me. Le sigh. I had planned to make a start on my essay after getting home from a hard four hours of tidying up a few shelves and reading all the back copies of Sneak magazine. However, this plan was thwarted once I arrived home, flopped on my bed trashy historical novel in hand. (I seem to be going through a thing for historical fictionalised accounts of the Tudor monarchy at the moment. Ooh, Henry VIII was a cad and a bounder wasn't he? A bit like Prince Harry but with 10% more beheading!*) Once I finished The Constant Princess the procrastination didn't stop there. I've raced my way through four episodes of Lost (mmm castaway goodness. New favourite character ever: Mr. Eko. Anyone who inspires the lines, "You're not going to hit me with your Jesus stick are you??" deserves a place in my All Time Top Five.)

On Sunday, firmly in the spirit of catching up on my television-watching, I dug out my Doctor Who tape and spent a happy three hours watching The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit (Whedonalert: shades of Firefly, especially in the score and the design of the ship) and the seemingly much maligned Love & Monsters (a.k.a. the one with Peter Kay in it. Whedonalert: shades of the Buffy episode, Storyteller). Other quick thoughts on Doctor Who thus far: the smugness of the Doctor and Rose are grating (even if it is just to set up a fall); enough with the Doctor ranting on joyfully about humans; less ex-Casualty cast members please; more Hustle cast members making cameos; yay for old-school claustrophobic sci-fi and yay for meta-commentary on fan culture.

Anyway, all this procrastination resulted in me deciding that rather than attempt to construct a new essay from scraps of the old one, I would just lop off the introduction and conclusion and hastily scrawl appropriate replacement passages to make the essay fit the question. My laziness has plumbed new depths when I don't even care about academic achievement anymore (although it's hard to care when you know you're going to be capped at 40%.) So, after waking up at the fair hour of 12pm today, I tacked on a ill-thought out, barely coherent conclusion (liberally peppered with lofty meaningless phrases such as "social constructions" and "feminine ideal") and went to hand it in. A whole 24 hours before the deadline. I think that's a record. Which, incredibly, means that I'm officially finished and in a matter of weeks I'll know my degree classification and will have to venture into the slightly mucky world of work. (Unless I meet a wealthy toupee-wearing gentleman and become a kept woman. Maybe I'm confusing my life with an episode of Dallas.)

Anyway, this is all another way to say that I haven't been doing much with my life (apart from melting into a sticky puddle whenever I'm not strategically placed in front of a fan or the air-conditioning vents in my car). Full thoughts on Doctor Who and the leather-clad extravaganza that was X-Men 3: The Last Stand. I also seem to have completely reneged on my vehement declaration that I wasn't going to see Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest as the trailer thoroughly charmed me. I fear that as much as with the first one, I will find myself disappointed. However, Orange Wednesdays are there to be abused with summer popcorn blockbusters featuring credible-actors-saving-up-for-loft-conversions. Off to bed (because that's where the fan is. Also rather annoyingly where the mosquitos are.) Bonne nuit!

* Thank you. My head will be displayed on a spike outside Tower Bridge all week. Try the veal!

"you've heard me saying that smoking is my only vice..."

2006-07-01T21:39:00.000Z

In my junk mail folder just now:

You don't know how much I was hoping for that email to be from the Purple One.

"put on a little make-up, make-up / make sure they get your good side, good side"

2006-06-30T16:05:00.000Z

I'm feeling a little disgruntled today. Perhaps I can attribute it to essay guilt. I had earmarked today for writing 4000 words on feminist postmodernists but the day seems to have slipped away from me. Instead, I found myself wandering around the house listlessly, eating copious amounts of Fitness and Thai mix. Also, my morning didn't start well as I woke up with an excruciating cramp in my left leg and I've been mewling pathetically to anyone who will feign caring.

Anyway, there was a rather vain reason for this post. My Site Meter tells me that I've hit the 1000 mark in visits and rather aptly, the 1000th visitor found these hallowed pages by doing a Google search for Sophie Ellis-Bextor lyrics. So, mystery Sophie E-B fan, I salute you.

In other news: I went out with my friends last night in East Dulwich and the combination of our gentrified surroundings and my impaired judgement (I was rather unwisely drinking on an empty stomach) led to me paying £7 for fish and chips in a gastro-chippy (rather amusingly called the Sea Cow). Zut alors!

I am taking myself off to the cinema to watch Keanu and Sandra's joyful time-travel-y reunion whilst bellowing along to East 17's Greatest Hits in the car. I hear that Goddess with Corkscrew Curls, Tracey Ann Oberman, is making an appearance in Doctor Who tomorrow. As I have yet to catch up with all the creamy Who goodness of the past month, the weekly Tennant Adoration will be sadly absent. Happy weekend!

"born to blossom, bloom to perish"

2006-06-29T17:27:00.000Z

As promised, part deux of my What I Did On My Holidays (by H, aged 22 and 7 months) essay.

Part II: Kraków

So, our first train journey of the trip and although it's only a four hour train journey, we use up all our games. I get taught Rummy (I'm not very good at it so I refuse to play again) and in return, I teach the girls blackjack (which I'm excellent at so I force them to play), 20 Questions, the ABC game and I introduce All Time Top Five to my compatriots (they are not impressed.) All this fun and games means that we're not very well prepared when our stop comes up and we have to rush to get our backpacks down from the overhead racks. One of the other men in the cabin very kindly offers his help but then chooses that particular moment to strike up conversation whilst simultaneous blocking the exit of the carriage. Eventually we make our way off the train (after a minor mishap with the train door) and we meet Steph's cousin (who speaks excellent English) and her uncle (who just flings whatever English he knows at us i.e. "Beatles! Manchester United!! Very good!") We're staying in Rzewa which is a little village about an hour outside of Krakow and the family have large plot of land with two houses and a barn built on it. After the short drive from the train station to their homestead, we are presented with a lovely dinner of home-made chicken patties, rice and salad. It is only afterwards that they inform us that they killed that chicken especially for us. On visiting the chickens in the shed later, I feel a little pang of guilt. (Or it may have been indigestion.) There are also giant bunnies flopping about the chicken shed and I fervently hope that I'm not presented with Thumper for lunch tomorrow.

An early start as we're squeezing in two excursions in one day: Oświęcim and Wieliczka. It's a two hour drive to the village of Oświęcim which is home to the Auschwitz concentration camp.

As you walk through the infamous gates that are emblazoned with the ironic slogan, "Arbeit Macht Frei" ('work to be free'), you are confronted with a surprisingly green and leafy boulevard lined with industrial concrete boxes. Although parts of the camp were destroyed after the war most of the actual blocks are still in tact and house exhibitions and tributes to all the ethnic groups that were victims of the Nazi regime. The exhibitions about life inside the camp get grimmer and grimmer as you proceed down the boulevard. One of the final exhibitions are the objects found after liberation, mountains of spectacles, briefcases, shoes, a whole wall of human hair shorn from the corpses of the inmates.

Two of the more infamous parts of the camp were destroyed shortly after liberation, Block 25 (known as 'Death Block' as it housed political prisoners who were later executed in the adjoining courtyard) and all but one crematorium/gas chamber. As you walk into the first room in the crematorium block, it seems just like an empty room with a small candlelit shrine in the middle. Then the truth then creeps up your spine and you realise that you're standing in a disused gas chamber. The crematorium is far more unsettling as the sight of the three remaining cast iron furnaces makes it abundantly clear what the purpose of this particular room was. As Auschwitz is now a tourist attraction, large tour groups are to be expected and there are signs in areas such as the gas chambers and the Execution Wall that photography isn't allowed as it is disrespectful to the masses of lives that were executed. However, schoolchildren being schoolchildren were still mooching around, smoking and being surly and enthusiastically snapping the more grotesque aspects of the camp. One boy was trying to crane his arm into a furnace as far as possible to get a shot. Rather more inappropriately, I saw a father ushering his young child to the Execution Wall for a cheery family holiday shot. Oh, there were also the handful of people that I saw camcordering their Auschwitz experience. I dread to think when the urge seizes them to dig out that particular holiday video.

A quick tour of the camp takes up two or three hours but the full tour which encompasses the nearby Birkenau (also known as 'KL Auschwitz II') takes a whole day. As you can imagine, two hours of Auschwitz is enough to drain anyone, so we decided to forego Birkenau in favour of Wieliczka and the salt mines.

I know that visiting salt mines might sound a bit educational fun but it's more like the London Dungeons, except 135m below the earth's surface. I suffer a little from mild vertigo so the thought of descending hundreds of metres below the surface didn't exactly fill me with joy. Neither did the tour guide's urging us to look down the dizzying 378 steps that we had to walk down to reach the first level of the mines. However, once we were on dry, er salt, we were greeted with the cheery sight of Nicholas Copernicus...made out of salt! The tour progresses through many more chambers all complete with impressive spectacles carved from salt. Perhaps the most impressive and most popular attraction in the mines is the St. Kinga chapel. A cavernous hall illuminated by salt chandeliers and decorated with bas-relief impressions of Biblical scenes and Da Vinci's The Last Supper (made from salt!!)

Even without the impressive St. Kinga's chapel (complete with salt altar), the Wieliczka salt mines would definately have a place in my All Time Top Five Tourist Attractions...EVER. How can I fail to adore a tourist attraction where you are encouraged to lick the walls? We had a brief chat with our lovely tour guide who informed us that a few chambers were closed off as there was a wedding party and a graduation ball taking place in the mines. Ever since then, I've resolved that if I'm ever to marry, it will be in the salt mines and my wedding cake will be decorated with a tiny salt bride and salt groom. Saltalicious!

Day six and we finally get to see Krakow, hurrah. Rather unusually, we are treated to a lie-in as Steph is whisked off on family visits. Mid-afternoon we catch a rickety country train to Kraków (and we are treated to the frankly terrifying experience of walking across rail tracks). First impressions of Kraków are far more favourable than Warsaw - it's far prettier, busier, younger and less industrial than the capital city.

We stroll through the pretty market square and visit St. Mary's Basilica (which rather cheekily charges not only an admission fee but also a photography fee.) As I refused to pay the 5 zloty photography fee I'm rather lacking in photos of the beautiful wooden carved Gothic altar. I am forced to shell out for a postcard instead. Boo. It's off to Wawel Castle which has some sort of bizarre limited ticket system. As it's late afternoon, we've missed the boat on tickets for any of the apartments and rooms of the castle, so we take a stroll around the grounds which are very pretty (but I'm feeling a little castle-d out by this point so the grandeur is a lost on me.) A quick look at the Wawel Cathedral also reveals my fast-growing ennui with gothic cathedrals but my interest is piqued by the woolly mammoth bone that hangs outside the cathedral door:

Odd sight of the day:

Walking through the little park that leads up to the university, we heard a barrage of klaxons and turned around to see this peculiar sight heading towards us. After hiding in some nearby bushes lest they apprehend us, we realise that it's a marketing campaign for Polish domestos. A wise move, I think you'll agree dear readers, when I tell you that moments later, a couple on a bench were interrupted by two of the men in bacteria suits.

We wait by the Dragon's Cave (sounds more impressive than it actually is. It's a little turret that leads down to the Wawel Dragon. Sadly also less impressive than it actually is) for Ewa's friend who is joining us for a drink. However, more pressing matters arise, namely our lack of accommodation for Bratislava and Budapest so a quick session in an Internet cafe becomes an hour and a half long trawl through hostel websites. I give up after an hour and resort to sending out emails and blogging instead. Finally, we secure rooms for our 'B' cities and we are led off to the Jewish district of the city, Kazimierz. By night, Kazimierz resembles east London, lots of little bars and restaurants line the streets, students and young hipsters in emo-glasses spill out onto the streets, beers in hand. We find a little ill-lit bar which is clearly rather trendy, yet a round is a bargainious £5. However, disaster strikes and our pleasant evening is cut short as we realise that we haven't left enough time to get to the station to catch the last train home. This results in a group of panicked girls running across the misty rain-soaked streets of Krakow. Throughout this 20 minute run, I repeatedly curse my choice of umbrella for the day, a full-sized, old-fashioned black number. Luckily we make it on the train with three minutes to spare and we collapse gratefully on the worn seats, red-faced and wheezing as we speed off into the damp night.

Day seven dawns and we have another full day in Krakow to look forward to. However, even before we step foot out of the house, we have a mini-crisis. On entering the dining room, we are presented with three plates of quivering jelly. On closer inspection, there are diced carrots languishing on the bottom of the jelly, while a cloud of shredded chicken floats at the top. After exchanging panicked looks, we sit down and tentatively try this latest culinary surprise. Steph fishes out a chunk of carrot and I carve a sliver of chicken and jelly and we make 'down the hatch' faces at each other. My first thought is "OhmygodI'mgoingtobesick" followed by, "Oh my god, I feed my cat this?!" Luckily, Ewa understands our plight (she's no fan of the chicken and carrot jelly either) and the jelly is quickly whipped away and replaced with the far safer option of bread and cold cuts. We decide to catch an earlier train in an effort to secure tickets for the attractions at Wawel Castle but our cunning plan is thwarted when our train is cancelled. Disaster! This results in us waiting on the freezing cold and torrentially wet platform at Rzewa station for an hour. After fifteen minutes, I can't bear the cold anymore and I reluctantly unfold my Kag In A Bag. Boredom strikes another fifteen minutes later and after espying some giant snails that have been lured out by the promise of rain, I decide to document the life of a Polish snail:

Luckily for us (and doubtless for you too dear readers), the second train arrives as scheduled and I spend the hour-long journey sleeping. When we do finally arrive in Krakow, we're lured into a nearby cafe with it's seductive promises of hot beverages. A large cup of lemon tea later (as is customary in Poland, tea is not taken with milk (or 'mleko') but rather a slice of lemon and sugar), we're ready to climb up the hill to Wawel Castle. Again. Even though it's 11am, there are only tickets for the State Apartments left and we have an hour before our allotted entrance time. So, it's back to the cathedral to kill some time and we get tickets for the crypts and the bell tower. The rickety staircases that wind their way up the bell tower are incredibly narrow and combined with the large crowds, do nothing whatsoever for my vertigo. On my way down (where I can't help but look down) my halting steps and general slowness ensure that quite a crowd builds up behind me. The Italian man who is directly behind me tries to comfort me with some kind words but this only serves to compound my embarassment. The top of the bell tower boasts a pretty view of the city and hoards of tourists swarm around the huge bell (you're meant to touch it and make a wish. Mine was "Please God, let me make it down alive and I'll never make snarky remarks about Gothic cathedrals again.") My trip to the crypts was cut a little short as Steph had a claustrophobia attack (phobia-mania!) and I accompanied her outside where we observed a nun sending a text message and then tucking her phone back into her habit.

The State Apartments aren't as impressive or ornate as the ones in Warsaw Royal Castle or Wilanow but they do boast walls covered in leather. Also, very strict, hawk-eyed attendants who follow you around and intimidated me into not taking any photos. The exterior of the apartments is much more impressive however, lots of little archways and vines, all very Shakespearian and we attempt to act out the Romeo & Juliet balcony scene but a sharp look from an attendant cuts short out performance. After that, it's time for a quick dinner and a stroll around the city to see it by night before catching an early train home (the ghost of the previous night still looming over us).

Day eight sees our last day in Krakow and as Ewa is at work today, we have the morning to ourselves. We catch a train into Krakow and plan out a day of shopping and a tour of the Jewish district. We manage to buy some gifts for Ewa and her family to thank them for their hospitality before the heavens open again. Not even the combined power of the Kag In A Bag and an umbrella keep me anywhere near dry. After taking shelter in a souvenier shop for 20 minutes, we decide that we're too tired and wet to traipse about the city in search of the Jewish district. We leave to catch an early-afternoon train and arrive home to a large homemade lunch of tomato soup, breaded pork and dill mash and chocolate walnut cake. Feeling a little happier and drier, we head back to our rooms and pack. Steph is whisked off on another round of family visits (Uncles Tomek, Stashek, Pieotrek and the amusingly named Bolek, which never fails to amuse us.) We're all ready for bed at 12am and settle in for five hours of sleep.

I wake up feeling as though I've only slept for two hours and my stomach is definately not ready for the huge roast beef sandwich that is waiting for me in the dining room. I manage to hide most of my remains underneath my napkin but I don't escape that easily. Barbara has prepared a veritable mountain of sandwiches for our imminent train journey and we haul the food and our luggage into the car just as the sun is rising.

"someone saved my heart today / will someone turn the light back on?"

2006-06-28T13:22:00.000Z

Despite the fact that I am far from financially solvent at the moment, I seem to keep on spending money on non-essential items. Not only did I buy the Studio Stella tickets for Ferris Bueller in the park but today alone I've further indulged my penchant for accessories that make me look like a Disney character. A pair of heart-shaped red polka dot earrings that match my Minnie Mouse shoes but also a blue alice band that isn't a million miles away from Alice In Wonderland (that is if Alice was a brunette and oriental. Er...)

I debuted both of these items when I went to my cousin's final show tonight at the London College of Communication. Having been roughing it for the past three weeks and since I've been back, I've spent most of my time in bed, so I very much relished the chance to wear all my pretty things again. Unfortunately, it did mean that I had to go and make awkward small talk with a group of hip and young gunslingers. So after watching my cousin's showreel of work and drinking some warm beer (as these occasions call for), I made my escape off into the night. Well, actually into Tesco as I had a craving for Fitness and nectarines (more backpacking food habits that are still clinging on). I bought a punnet of cherries (is that the term for cherries or is that only applicable to strawberries?) and promptly stuffed my face with two thirds of them and now I'm fearing a live re-enactment of that scene in The Witches of Eastwick.

Odd moment from today: I was queuing up in HSBC this morning to change back my currency and traveller's cheques and I found myself having to shake a small child off my leg. Repeatedly. I had a moment of panic when I thought that perhaps I would have to walk Quasimodo-style along the streets of south-east London, dragging the weeping infant along with me as he just would not let go.

I've spent the last two hours thinking about the essay that I need to do ("To what extent does the implementation of postmodern literary devices enhance a feminist literary practice?") after the disasterous events of last month. The trouble is that I simply cannot muster any semblance of motivation even though the thought of not graduating is unthinkable. I'm so unmotivated at the moment that I didn't even bother going to my contact lens check up this morning. My optician looks like Robin Cook and the mere thought of having his grinning ginger visage peering into my eyes this morning was more than enough to send me back under the covers. I had a desulatory look at the Guardian job section at the weekend and I find myself despairing at the fatuous job titles and the fact that most of the graduate opportunities are in 'media sales'. Eww.

More things to spend my overdraft on (oh. my. god.):

It's the Amazon Limited Edition Doctor Who Season 2 boxset. In the shape of a Cyberman's head (!!) It says that it comes with a free "lenticular postcard". I've no idea what that is but it sounds amazing! EDIT: I've just looked up lenticular on Wikipedia and I've spent the last five minutes transfixed by the frankly terrifying spectacle of Vic Reeves disappearing and reappearing repeatedly. Ooh. (I do hope that the lenticular postcard is of Rose's disembodied head in a television set silently mouthing the words "Doctor - help me!" Or perhaps just of the Doctor taking off and putting on his emo-specs.)

Anyway, part deux of my travelogue tomorrow dear readers, for now I am valiantly forging ahead with Cloud Atlas (which is getting marginally more exciting). Toodle pip.

"Even though the gods are crazy / even though the stars are blind"

2006-06-26T13:11:00.000Z

An extra long entry for you today dear readers, 10% extra poptastic goodness...gratis! I'm not sure why this entry is so long as I've done nothing but sleep and watch TV all day. I seem to be flamboyantly disregarding my self-imposed no-spending rule as I bought tickets for the Stella Film Festival in July. But I couldn't resist it, a summer Sunday spent in Greenwich Park (my favourite Royal park) drinking and watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off and then heading to Sean Rowley's Guilty Pleasures Goes To The Movies tent. Hoorah for hazy booze-fuelled 80s nostalgia!

Popstastic Bit

I've been meaning to talk about the Paris Hilton single, Stars Are Blind for a while now. Even though everything about the track shouldn't work (i.e. the general involvement of Paris Hilton; the resurrection of UB40-esque reggae-pop; the line, "I can make it nice or naughty" etc etc) I find that it has been on repeat quite a bit for the past few days. However, there are various reasons to love Stars Are Blind:

- The general involvement of Paris Hilton
- The album is called Paris Is Burning. AMAZING. Not only does this display a hitherto unseen wit but it also references a documentary about the 1980s New York Vogue-ing drag scene.
- The video features Paris frolicking about on a beach and flashing her misshapen ladygarden (see Heat this week) in a revealing silver dress:

- The track is the equivalent of this track is a Long Island Iced Tea: superficially sweet and boozy but deceptively addictive.

There's a lot of talk about Jessica Simpson's new track, A Public Affair which Popjustice have heralded as the 21st century version of Madonna's Holiday. I really wanted to love this track, it's summery and features a drum solo and the phrase "carte blanche" but it just doesn't detract from the fact that this is the Lidl version of Holiday. Let's not even get started on La Simpson's vacant expression which I've only just noticed because the first time I visited that page, I couldn't help staring at her chiffon-encased boobies which I had thrust at me.

Finally, Lily Allen's second single, Smile is out to buy on iTunes. Unfortunately, it's the radio edit which changes the line "When you first left me I was wanting more / but you were fucking that girl next door" to "doing that girl next door". Boo. Anyway, it's still as close to spiteful-post-break-up-revenge-pop-perfection as you can get so go and have a listen.

Survey Bit

It's been a while since I've done a survey. Poached from Stuart.

70 Questions to Start the Summer

1. Do you like someone?
There's someone I like the sound of at the moment but it's more curiosity than full-blown, wobbly-legs, chin-cupped-in-hand daydreaming crush status. Unfortunately, it seems as though Gary Barlow is the closest thing I have to a crush at the moment.

2. Do you hate more than 3 people?
L'horreur! I don't hate anyone. Well, this morning I did - I hated my friend's neighbour for being a cold-hearted, weasel-faced twat but I can't be bothered to waste any energy on hating him.

3. How many places have you lived in?
Only London and quite happily so. In fact, I can't imagine living anywhere other than London, particularly south-east London.

4. What is your favorite candy bar?
Rather surprisingly, given my sweet tooth and general greed, I'm not a fan of chocolate. The only time I buy chocolate is during hormone-induced dazes and then it tends to be whole nut Cadbury bars. Or Green & Black's if I'm feeling particularly extravagant and I want to comfort myself with the fact that it's organic and therefore not guilt-inducing.

5. What are your favorite shoes?
If we were judging this on the shoes that I wear most often, then it would be Converse. Really, my favourite shoes are my red patent wedges that I can't walk in. And the shoes that I most covet are the Marc Jacobs bottle-green sequinned Mary-Janes. So take from that what you will.

6. Have you ever tripped someone?
If only. I'm usually the person who ends up face on floor unfortunately.

7. What was your least favorite subject this year?
My Television & Cultural Change unit which sounded a lot sexier than it actually was.

8. What was your favorite subject this year?
Postmodern Literature. I find that dropping 'meta' and 'self-reflexive' into any sentance virtually guarantees that my answer is correct.

9. Do you own a Britney Spears CD?
Only My Prerogative: Greatest Hits which is neatly sandwiched in between Sugababes and The Strokes in my CD collection. I also don't like the sneery tone of this question; what respectable popophile's record collection would be complete without La Spears's oeuvre?

10. Have you ever thrown up in public?
No. (Except I'm lying.) I guess the first time I did it was through no fault of my own. I was 7 and had the flu and my mother insisted on dragging me out to the shops to run some errands. As all mothers are wont to do, she wrapped me up like a Christmas turkey and encased in ten thousand layers, I was left next to the Pick & Mix counter in Woolworth's feeling more than a little peaky. Unfortunately, I couldn't hold back the gushing torrent of sick that was rushing through my alimentary canal and I was sick in my snood. The second time was alcohol induced and shamefully recent. Let us speak of it no more.

11. Name something that's always on your mind.
The same as everyone else I guess. Food, pop music, television and sex.

12. What is your favorite music genre?
Girl-band, arms-aloft, glitter-ball electro-pop.

13. What's your sign?
Why does this survey feel like a particularly awkward date? Le sigh. Scorpio.

14. What time were you born?
Around 3:30pm. End of school time.

15. Do you like beer?
Eww, no. I'm a lady, I don't drink such neanderthal beverages.

16. Have you ever made a prank call?
Many a time. I always failed miserably at them when I was younger but as I've gotten older and better at lying, I've perfected the art.

17. What is the most embarrassing CD you own?
Well, I think that by most people's standards my whole record collection is a trawl through the bottom of the pop barrel with Hanson being a particularly low point. But I think that my large collection of Ooberman CDs is pretty cringeworthy. Fey indie-pop rubbish. What was I thinking?

18. Are you sarcastic?
When I was a teenager it was my default mode but I've realised that it's not very becoming and it comes across as a little nasty so I've stopped.

19. What are your favorite colors?
Again with the awkward date questions. You would think that it was pink but it isn't. When I was about 14 I was obsessed with purple and tried to compile an entirely purple wardrobe and even attempted to get people to nickname me 'Purple'. Thankfully that didn't catch on. Which is somewhat of a roundabout way of saying that I don't have a favourite colour.

21. Summer or winter?
Winter. Because it's nearer my birthday; Christmas is during winter; there's the slight possibility of snow; winter clothing is nicer and it gives me an excuse to stay at home watching TV in my bedsocks and duvet.

22. Spring or fall?
Both. Autumn boasts my birthday and spring has fluffy bunnies and bleeting sheep and cheap confectionary ahoy.

23. What is your favorite color to wear?
Like every other girl at the moment, green. The green section in my wardrobe has increased from nil to 10 items in the past 12 months.

24. Pepsi or Sprite?
Neither. They're both the short-pants karaoke version of Coca-Cola and 7-up respectively.

25. What color is your cell phone?
Hot pink. I'm a little ashamed to own the phone that Chantelle Houghton is flogging at the moment but it's so thin and teeny.

26. is blank? hmm?
Uh-oh awkward date awkward silence. I'll just take this opportunity to slope off to the toilet to powder my nose and send an SOS text.

27. Have you ever slapped someone?
Rather shamefully, yes. It was a complete stranger who was rewarded with my wrath after grabbing my arse. I have also been slapped and it left a rather comedy red hand print on my face. Obviously, it wasn't so comedy at the time.

28. Have you ever had a cavity?
When I was younger I had a fair few. I actually spent a large proportion of my formative years in the dentist. Hard as it is to believe (and please try not to split your sides at the mere thought) my problem was that my mouth wasn't big enough. So many an afternoon was spent in a sweaty cramped orthodontist's office having my mouth prodded with various wires.

29. How many lamps are in your bedroom?
Two. One on my desk and one next to my bed.

30. How many video games do you own?
Exactly four. I was considering selling my Nintendo SNES for which I only ever owned two games which were both Donkey Kong games. The other two were during my Gameboy Advance phase and one was a Harry Potter game and the other one was the excellent Yoshi's Island (which I still have yet to clock.)

31. What was your first pet?
It was a kitten called Lily. In retrospect, I was much too young for a kitten and it was taken away from me because I had a tendency to swing it round by its tail.

32. Have you ever had braces?
Yes, when I was 14. Rather oddly, only on the top row of my teeth.

33. Do looks matter?
Not really but unfortunately they kind of do. I find myself very much attracted to unconventional looking men and have in the past fallen for boys who aren't my type at all because (trite as it sounds) their personality did it for me. But I guess on a more basic level, physical attraction as a quick-quick-make-babies! mechanism make looks important.

34. Do you use Chapstick?
No. And neither should you. It just dries out your lips. Vasaline is the worst culprit for this. I am a slave to the transformative powers of Eve Lom's Kiss Mix, MAC Tinted Balm and Clinique Superbalm.

35. Name 3 teachers from your school.
Mr. Smith: my History teacher who used to spend the lessons talking to us about that week's episode of This Life. Mr. Turner: my Resistant Materials DT teacher who was the biggest oddball. He used to wear flamboyantly printed shirts (pink elephants etc), had a feather earring and claimed that he was a model for Jean-Paul Gautier in the past. He also had a "stomach ulcer" (read: nervous breakdown) and had to leave. Mr. Thomason: my art teacher who completely put me off art. He was Danish and had an unnerving way of wearing his trousers in a spectacularly low-slung way.

36. American Eagle or Abercrombie?
There's a difference between them?

37. Are you too forgiving?
Absolutely.

38. How many children do you want?
At the moment the answer is none and also for the forseeable future as I don't particularly get on well with children. However, I imagine that as I hit my late 20s the ticking of the dreaded biological clock will drown out any reason and common sense that I have held onto until now.

39. Do you own something from Hot Topic?
I own something from the Emily Strange line which is close enough.

40. What is your favorite breakfast?
I've recently taken a liking to Fitness which is like a wheatier and bigger-flake version of Special K.

41. Do you own a gun?
No. I must say, these aren't the kind of questions that I would associate with the beginning of summer. Or indeed any other season.

42. Have you ever thought you were in love?
Yes. Emphasis on the "thought".

43. When was the last time you cried?
I honestly can't remember. I'm not moved to tears particularly easily. Although I did get a little choked up during the finale of Never Forget on Saturday. Perhaps I shouldn't admit that.

44. What did you do 3 days ago?
It was Friday, so I had just gotten back from Eastern Europe a day before. I had a hectic schedule of sleeping only interrupted by laundry and packing in preparation for my weekend in Milton Keynes.

45. When was the last time you went to Olive Garden?
Er, never. Even with my penchant for eating whole tubs of olives at a time, the Olive Garden doesn't sound like a place I want to frequent.

46. Have you ever called your teacher mom?
As far as I can remember, no but it sounds like the kind of thing I might have done.

47. Have you ever been in a castle?
Never until my trip to Eastern Europe where I crammed a whole lifetime's worth of castles and palaces into 3 weeks. There was Wilanow Palace, Warsaw; Wawal Castle, Krakow; Bratislava Castle; the Royal Palace and Citadella in Budapest and Diocletian's Palace in Split.

48. What are your nicknames?
They don't bear repeating because I loathe them. But it's gotten past the point where I can repair any damage and even my friend's parents have taken to calling me by my Hateful Nickname. My PE teacher once forgot my name and called me "Naan" and that crops up occasionally much to the amusement of my friends.

49. Do you know anyone named Bertha?
No but I would love to. Mainly because I would nickname her Big Bertha.

50. Have you ever been to Kentucky Fried Chicken?
Yes. And almost always instantly regretted it afterwards.

51. Do you own something from Banana Republic?
No but I own a couple of things from Gap. I have no standards whatsoever. My boycott of Gap ended abruptly as soon as the accessories designer from Marc Jacobs moved to Gap.

52. Are you thinking about somebody right now?
Yes. But again not in that hubba-hubba-woof! kind of way.

53. Have you ever called someone Boo?
As in the sickening term of endearment? No. I've said "boo" to people in a childish manner.

54. Do you smoke?
No. When I was younger I tried to cultivate a smoking habit but I hated the taste too much to overcome it in order to look cool.

55. Do you own a diamond ring?
I don't own anything diamond. Mainly because I would promptly lose it.

56. Are you happy with your life right now?
Today not so much. I've spent too much time worrying about the scary future and mundane everyday things like money. But generally, I've nothing to worry about. Although I guess that doesn't mean that there are aspects that I would like changed.

57. Do you dye your hair?
Not so much anymore. I sometimes have the urge to dye my hair wicked-witch-blackest-black but I end up looking like Brian Molko. I used to have a blonde chunk in my fringe and before that blonde tips which were intermittently dyed pink and on one disasterous occasion, green.

58. Does anyone like you?
In a that nudge-nudge-wink-wink way? Sadly, not as far as I know.

59. What year were you born?
Nineteen eighty-three.

60. What were you doing May of 1994?
I was finishing primary school and having a fall-out with my then-best-friend.

61. Do you own a Backstreet Boys CD?
Yes, exactly four. One album and three singles.

62. McDonald's or Wendy's?
McDonald's. But again, it's an option that you inevitably regret afterwards.

63. Do you like yourself?
Yes. I'm quite the catch.

64. Are you closer to your mother or father?
When I was younger, it was my mother because my dad worked long hours and had to come home and be stern pater which scared me. Now, it's reversed and I get along better with my father which isn't to say that I don't get along with mater.

65. Favorite feature of the opposite sex?
Ah, it doesn't take much to please me. Just give me a lovely boy who can make me laugh and is smart and is willing to put up with my inane chatter about pop culture and I'm happy. I find that asking a boy who his favourite member of Girls Aloud is rather telling. As much as I heart Tweedy, I would want the kind of boy who finds the less obvious charms of Nicola or Kimberly more alluring. But if we're being superficial we can include: decent haircut, some semblance of sartorial awareness and nice eyes. Even more shallow and vacuous? Bums.

66. Are you afraid of the dark?
It depends. When I was younger I was. Now I prefer sleeping in as dark a room as possible. However, I do get a little wigged out when going up the stairs in darkness and I have to switch off the corridor light and run like fury to my room. I get scared in dark alleys. Not that I spend a huge proportion of my time hanging around dubious looking, ill-lit streets.

67. Have you ever eaten paste?
Yes. I ate some icing paste when I made a cake for someone a while ago. Mmm, yummy red sugary goodness. Also in Bratislava, the waitress brought out a nubbin of brownish paste on a plate for me to spread on the complimentary bread. To this day I don't know what it was but it tasted like a sawdust-y cow.

68. Do you have a webcam?
No.

69. Have you ever stripped?
I'm intrigued - who answers 'no' to this question? But if you mean in a chicka-chicka-bow way, then no.

70. Name all the places you have gone to for vacation:
Wales, Hastings, Sheffield, Windsor, The Netherlands, Germany, Sicily, France, Turkey, Greece, Hong Kong, Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, Croatia, Austria.

All of which leads neatly onto the promised...

'What I Did On My Holidays' bit

Part I: Warsaw

So, an inhumanely early start on Bank Holiday Monday, up at 3am to make the 7am check-in time at Gatwick. Having booked our tickets on the British Airways website, we get to use the super-efficient self-check in machines. It's amazing how impressed I am by anything with a touch screen. By the time we're all done changing currency and getting rid of our bags, we have an extravagant breakfast in Giraffe. Whilst waiting for our boarding call we spy a man who looks suspiciously like a Eastern bloc native. He is sporting the somewhat giveaway outfit of purple shellsuit bottoms teamed with Hi-Tec trainers and a chunky-knit jumper. Shortly after espying our new friend, he proceeds to take off his socks and trainers and do some very vigorous exercises. One of which includes him lying face up on the bench and enthusiastically thrusting his hips up and down in a rather disconcerting manner. Thankfully he wasn't on our flight but unfortunately I make the mistake of accepting a cheese sandwich and after one bite, I immediately regret it.

A mere two hours later, we arrive in Warsaw airport and we are greeted enthusiastically by various family members. We are whisked off to the centre of Warsaw to meet Jadzia, our tour guide for the city. After being fed sandwiches with a high pickled vegetable content she takes us on a little trip to the pretty Wilanow Palace and Park on the outskirts of the city.

The palace is very much modelled on the style of the French court with its immaculately manicured botanical gardens and the ornate gilded furniture and eau-de-nil and blossom pink walls. Walking through the gates however, you are greeted by what looks like a French-palace-on-acid. The exterior has been restored to its original hue of eye-blisteringly bright buttercup yellow and teal. Anyway, after that little jaunt and the early flight, we're all thoroughly shattered and retire to our hotel for the night. As first through the door I bag the room with the double bed and in my excitement, I forget to take off my backpack before jumping on the bed which results in me doing my best beetle-on-its-back impression.

Anyway, the next day it's off to see the Royal Castle and after sampling a Polish breakfast (think lots of cold cuts and cheese and eggs drenched in mayonnaise), we catch a bus to the Old Town.

It's very quaint and picturesque and although it was rebuilt after the war, it doesn't feel like a reconstructed tourist trap. The market square is ringed by little pretty colourful townhouses, most of which feature intricate geometric patterns and mythological carved images. The exterior of the Royal Castle itself is a mishmash of architectural styles, a neo-gothic wing stands next to a French Court style wing. The apartments are lavishly decorated, as can be expected, lots of gilded things, pretty little carriage clocks, Louis XIII furniture, chandeliers and ceiling murals. Still, it doesn't have the charm of the Wilanow Palace but it's all very impressive all the same (I know I'm easily impressed but a throne set against red velvet and a hundred silver eagles is hard to dismiss.)

We have a late lunch in Sekret, a underground restaurant serving Polish cuisine. The cellars that the restaurant itself is one of the remaining original bits of the Old Town that was left untouched by the war. The menu is comprised pretty much of traditional Polish tastes given a contemporary twist and served with a flourish. There's a worrying amount of rabbit and offal on the menu so I go down the safest route and opt for the cod loin which comes served with creamed cabbage and garnished with three boiled beetroots. Try as I might, I can't make my choice sound particularly appetising so you'll just have to take my word that it was delicious and I am now officially a convert to the charms of beetroot.

As Jadzia has work the next day we decide to let her get some rest and we head off to a nearby Jewish cemetary. By this time it's nearly sunset and I start getting the wiggins hanging around a cemetary, Jewish or not. So we repair to a nearby shopping centre and lose ourselves in the novelty of the Polish branches of Marks & Spencer, Sephora and H&M (which still has a few of the Stella McCartney pieces knocking about. It seems that the Poles are no fans of her masculine tailoring. Ho hum.) It's brie and nectarines for dinner and I wow the girls with my excellent Tom Cruise impression while we watch the German version of the E! channel.

Day three and we've got the morning to ourselves as Jadzia is at work. We make our way to Lazienski Park (getting a little lost enroute. It seems that the Polish 171 is as unreliable as the London one.) After wandering about mapless for a while we stumble upon the entrance to the park and we are immediately transported into a lush and verdant backdrop. Hopping bunnies, grazing deer and nodding bluebells would not look out of place here.

First on the agenda are the peacocks which we find by following a crowd of schoolchildren. Jess tries to antagonise the male peacock into spreading his plumage by throwing rocks near him. No such luck. We do however spy one nestling in the trees which apparently means that rain is on the way. We have a quick look at the pretty Palace On The Water which looks like something straight out of an Austen novel. We seek out the Chopin monument which lies at the end of a large ornamental lake and it looks especially impressive with all the cotton blowing about in the breeze. I secretly hope that Chopin's heart (which resides in Warsaw whilst his body is buried in Paris) is embedded in the monument. Again, no such luck, I don't know where his heart lies and it feels somewhat inappropriate to badger the other Chopin admirers at the lake.

By now it's 1pm and we're scheduled to meet Jadzia at the Centre for Contemporary Art which is housed in Ujadowski Castle. It is also unfortunately raining torrentially so I am forced to break out my Kag In A Bag. I am a heavenly vision in salmon pink waterproofs. The gallery itself is tiny considering it's in a castle and most of the stuff is postmodern and/or postcolonial installation type stuff. I hit my first museum gift shop and happily chance upon some saucy lady Mata Hari style postcards. It's off to have lunch at Jadzia's office canteen which is found in a slick steel and glass building - home to the Polish headquarters of Schweppes Coca-Cola, Glaxo-Kline and Disney (i.e. EvilCorp, Inc.) before heading to the central rail station to purchase our tickets to Krakow.

We pay the nearby Palace of Culture & Science a visit for the view from the 30th floor. The palace was a gift from Stalinist Russia in 1955 which prompts all inhabitants we meet to spit on the ground with it's alleged ugliness. In reality, it's just another imposing concrete eyesore which isn't particularly distinguishable from Warsaw's grey and industrial cityscape. However, the view of the city from the palace is impressive even with the overcast skies and the force 9 gales. FACT: The lift up to the 30th floor of the palace goes at an ear-popping six metres per second. Anyway, after all that gallivanting about we're all hankering after our beds and more Polish television, so we get a tram back to our hotel to pack as it's our last night in Warsaw already.

Day four and we only have the morning in Warsaw as our train is at 2pm. We manage to crowbar in some last minute sightseeing by walking to the nearby Saski Park to see the Unknown Soldier memorial monument. The fires in the monument are manned twenty-four hours a day by two soldiers. On the way to the Pope John Paul II collection (which was actually a gift to the Pope from a wealthy art-collector couple) we pass the grand Opera House and also the Polish meridian line. Before we leave for the train station, Jadzia feeds us an extravagant four-course lunch (by course two I'm feeling sick already and cursing the minimal decor for leaving no nook or cranny to hide the excess food.) A taxi to the train station and by 2pm we're waving goodbye to our kind host and on our way to Krakow in an old-fashioned train carriage, straight out of a Hitchcock film.

"Love ain't here anymore / It's gone away to a town called yesterday"

2006-06-25T23:56:00.000Z

Public Service Warning: This post may contain high levels of repressed adolescent levels of hysteria and general incoherency due to lack of sleep.

I didn't think it was possible to love Take That anymore than I did but I can confirm that my passion for the Fab (Formerly Five) Four has truly gone stratospheric. There was singing! And dancing! (At one point, in the rain! As Smash Hits would surely exclaim, "Swoon!") Also: saucy tango dancing in a sexed-up version of It Only Takes A Minute (n.b. although Gary Barlow is a songwriting genius, he is definately not cut out for flinging svelte Argentinian temptresses about. In the future, please leave all the fancy dancing to Howard Donald and Jason Orange. Thankyou.) Even more thrillingly, there was a section with ridiculous space-age tracksuits (in the grand tradition of boy band stage shows. I refer you to 911's tour in which they donned white dungarees emblazoned with tyre tracks) that was a meta-commentary on the manufactured boy bands. Hurrah! Perhaps even better, there were scary S&M dominatrix dancers, trapeze artists, lions and tigers (oh my!) during the Relight My Fire routine. Oh and also the twin foghorn talents of Lulu (no longer ginger and definately a beard for Jason Orange) and Beverley Knight (sporting less clothing than I ever wish to see her in again):

Unfortunately, due to our terrible time management skills and navigational disasters (damn you AA Route Planner), we ended up missing the Sugababes. Boo. As we were walking down into the Milton Keynes Bowl, we caught the last few songs of their set and I must say, I thoroughly approve of the fabulously monikered Amelle Berrabah. We walked into range of the stage just as Heidi was chirpily wishing the crowd a fabulous evening and waving goodbye. Even though we were fortunate enough to have Gold Circle tickets we arrived too late to snag a good spot, so we were resigned to standing at the side of the stage, which would have probably been fine if I was taller than a Shetland pony. However, most disturbing event of the evening was not missing My Favourite Girlband...EVER and but the discovery that I have cultivated quite a crush on Gary Barlow (i.e. the Least Fanciable Member of Take That). Here's a lovely picture of him:

The saddest thing? I still find him attractive in that outfit. Fear not dear readers, once I secure my Doctor Who catch up tape from Meg, all celebrity crush energy will be transferred back onto the Right Honorable Tennant. Woof. Anyway, I am firmly converted back to the old Thatter ways and will promptly be scrawling the TT logo on my arm, testing out all the members' surnames with my own name and snogging my posters before bedtime.

Onto more pressing matters - namely the greatly anticipated Hilton Muffin Theft. Myself and Lindsey had formulated a cunning plan in which I drove to Milton Keynes and we stayed in the Hilton in order to get thoroughly gin-soaked before the concert and also to take full advantage of the legendary Hilton breakfast. We had arrived fully prepared with vodka, ginger ale and fruit bags from Sainsbury's to secrete away muffins, pastries, jam, cheese and bread rolls from the breakfast buffet. After cramming our faces with as much food as humanely possible (one fruit salad, various pastries each, a pot of tea and a full English breakfast) we snuck up to the breakfast bar under the cover of greed and proceeded to sweep the contents of our bulging plates into our handbags in a nonchalant manner as possible. I wandered downstairs earlier to find that someone else had eaten the blueberry muffin and croissant that I had pilfered (damn and blast!) but my mini-pot of Muller Light, mini cheeses and packets of shortbread are still in tact.

Lindsey's neighbours had invited her to a birthday barbecue for their adorably named child, Maximillian but at 4pm, we were still too full from our breakfast blowout. The family in question were very much the organic-eating, ethnic-robe wearing, Guardian-reading people that inhabit the nicer bits of south-east London and the spread was mainly vegetarian (think lots of carrot batons and things with beans in them) and being a bit hungover, all I was craving was a hunk of brie and a can of coke. So instead, I had a glass of pink champagne whilst affecting interest in their drones about children, mortgages and traffic. Needless to say, apart from the children, I was the youngest person there so I persuaded Lindsey to make a hasty exit as I was in danger of gnawing off my own arm and beating myself about the head with my dismembered limb to alleviate the boredom. I left Lindsey's with tapes of Project Runway and Lost and back issues of Heat and Elle which have kept me quite happily occupied all evening. To add to an already blissful weekend, I arrived home to post! Namely the Goodness Gracious Me boxset that I had ordered on Friday and a hand-written missive and two mix-cds from Stuart. I think I've still not really caught up on my sleep so I very much anticipate my day tomorrow being taken up with the important tasks of lazing about in bed watching a stackload of DVDs and listening to the A to Z of Pop. Hoorah.

I've had some rather odd comments made to me over the weekend. We were stopped by two men at the Take That concert who asked whether we were "going to the opera dressed like that". One woman chastised some girls for pushing in front of us in the toilet queue as she assumed that one of us was pregnant. Then, when I went to the supermarket on the way home today, the cashier asked me how old I was out of curiousity. When I informed her that I had indeed reached the haggard and decrepit age of 22 she informed me that I looked barely 18. It worries me when people are overly nice to me in shops, there's something very unsettling about a complete stranger trying to be nice to you. Perhaps I'm just being a typical Londoner and people who live in friendlier (i.e. further north) bits of the country feel differently? Whilst you puzzle over that dilemma dear readers, I leave you with some more photos from Saturday night. Pip pip.

"We've come so far and we've reached so high / And we've looked each day and night in the eye"

2006-06-23T12:54:00.000Z

Ah, greetings dear readers! I hope you've all been well and been enjoying the sunshine (grr, argh), World Cup (zzz) and/or Big Brother (zzz zzz)? A proper post about my jaunt behind the Iron Curtain is coming soon but my attendance in the Golden Circle at Take That's triumphant return is casting its shadow upon my weekend. Myself and Lindsey have a rather strict itinerary of drinking, dancing, Take That worshipping and muffin-stealing to adhere to. Not only I am going to be treated to Barlow, Donald, Orange and Owen in the flesh but also the new & improved Sugababes v3.0 (I cannot tell you how excited I will be if they wheel out their cover of I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor..!) Not only that but Lulu will be making an appearance - I will be keeping a beady eye on the alledged Jason/Lulu frisson but I'm not convinced. (Then again, I have been formulating a theory that perhaps sex with Lulu turned him off women. Making the beast with two backs with that flamed-haired foghorn would be enough to put you off sex for life I would think.)

Anyway, since I got back on Thursday afternoon, all I seem to have done is eat large quantities of camembert and nectarines and sleep. I'm still in backpacking mode, our food du choix consisted mainly of Special K, camembert or brie, Swedish Krisprolls, nectarines, bananas and chocolate. So after a nourishing meal of brie, avacado and bread (having learnt from past experience, I never touch plane food, even innocuous looking sandwiches which inevitably look and taste like reheated plastic), I collapsed gratefully into my own bed (blissful space! No more cramping myself into a teeny tiny single bed! No more sharing full stop!!) I found myself sleeping through from 3pm until 11pm (at which point I woke up and had more brie) and then fell fast asleep until 12pm today. I did awake with vague thoughts of productivity (changing my money, printing photos, a quick trip to H&M and Primark perchance?) but I opted for the far more tempting option of bed, Internet and my Angel DVD box set. Oh and more cheese. I was also overjoyed to discover whilst rifling through my Duty Free carrier bag that I had a box of macaroons from a Viennese patisserie:

Unfortunately not a patch on the coveted Laduree macaroons but they did fill the macaroon-shaped hole in my life.

I finally managed to trawl through my email today (sadly most of it junk. Le sigh) and whilst reading my daily gossip fix from Glamour magazine I notice that Russell Brand was Kate Moss's beau at some point? Eww - I feel all grimy having a crush on someone that La Moss has dated.

Anyway, dear readers, I must take my leave of you as I have to finish my packing (a suitcase - luxury!! I can now haul my customary 1kg of cosmetics with me. And extra pants too!! God knows how I coped with backpacking, I'm really not cut out for roughing it) and sleep in preparation for getting lost on the way to Northampton. I have entrusted Lindsey with the navigation but am quietly apprehensive as The AA never map out the best route and I have absolutely no spatial awareness whatsoever, so I'm useless with a map. Even when I do turn it around. I leave you with a Viennese bike sign from outside the Sigmund Freud museum:

I know, I'm such a child. Bwahaha!

"The music is weaving, haunting notes, pizzicato strings..."

2006-06-20T21:13:00.000Z

I am thoroughly ashamed that I haven't managed to fit in more blogging on my
trip but possibly even more ashamed that I haven't missed the Internet that
much. And I dare to call myself a geek. Anyway, for those of you who aren't
appreciators of Midge Ure's unique talents (the few of you that there are
I'd imagine...) I'm currently in my last stop, the fragrant and cultural
city of Vienna. I have snuck out under the cover of darkness from under the
usually watchful eye of my friends (who insist that I go out and see the
cities we're in rather than blogging from these places...) who have been
distracted by the football.

So, since Poland I've travelled down the western half of Eastern Europe,
down to Slovakia, through Hungary and sideways to Croatia and down the
Dalmatian coast and then back up again to Vienna. My flight back to London
has a little stopover in Berlin for half an hour, so technically Vienna
isn't my last stop, I guess. Quick round-up for you, gentle readers:

Bratislava - We only really stopped off in Bratislava because we had to
otherwise the journey from Krakow to Budapest would have taken too long.
However, despite my initial freak-out when I got to the hostel (I was having
spatial issues, alongside the trauma of a horrific journey. It was meant to
be two trains but it turned into a train, four coaches, another train and a
rip-off cab. There were some odd National Geographic type forest people with
wizened raisin-like faces on the first coach who especially gave me the
wiggins. We also had to contend with an American who tried desperately to
prove to us that he wasn't a typical Ugly American by mocking Bush. I later
recounted these trials and tribulations to the Irish girls that I was
sharing a room with in the Bratislavan hostel but they proved to be somewhat
of a tough crowd and regarded me with suspicion and a tinge of fear for the
rest of the night. Anyway, I digress...) I thoroughly heart Bratislava and
would happily spend another weekend there. I loved the quaint little Old
Town with its pastel coloured chocolate box houses and odd little iron
figures in the street. Oh and not to mention that while we were strolling
through the square we bumped into a brass band and heaven knows that if
there's anything that prolongs my enjoyment of a city, it's a brass band! We
went to see the boxy fortress-like castle (not too impressed but I enjoyed
the gift shop. I seem to have failed to walk out of a museum gift shop
without a purchase these past few weeks.) Also a few more plus points in
Bratislava's favour: a chocolate cafe (complete with a chocolate fountain!),
the staggering cheapness and watermelon martinis. Slurp.

Budapest - I was really looking forward to Budapest but I found myself
vaguely disappointed with it. The train journey to Budapest was possibly one
of the nicest trains I've ever been on and there was a tourist information
officer handing out leaflets and maps on the train. However, once we
disembarked at Budapest Keleti station, it became clear that this efficiency
was an illusion. However, we were staying in a little apartment on Vaci Utca
which is the main pedestrian shopping street and close to the centre, so it
made exploring the city a little easier. I don't think I realised how vast
Budapest is and it is incredibly overwhelming so it is possibly one of the
few times that I've been glad that I went on a tour bus. (Although the real
reason for us taking the guided tour bus was the foul weather - hail!!) The
nightlife in Budapest was nowhere close to our expectations and we found
that people weren't even out watching the football, so I introduced my
comrades to the time-honoured game of Shag, Marry or Push off a Cliff. (Kofi
Annan and the Pope appeared in a list at one point. Let us speak no more of
this.) Despite all this, Budapest ranks highly in the list of my favourite
cities for a couple of reasons: the funicular (ooh, I do love a good
funicular!), the Marzipan museum (everything made out of
marzipan...amazing!) and the communist Statue Park (which broke new records
for my photo geekery. I literally took a photo of every exhibit.)

Zagreb - I'm disappointed that we didn't spend more time here because it was
quite unexpectedly pretty and charming and overwhelmingly young. Even more
unexpected was the star encouter that occured on the steps of the Royal
Opera House - Croatia's favourite sex symbol, Goran Visjinic otherwise known
as Dr Luka Kovac from ER!

Dubrovnik - I got bored quickly in Dubrovnik and not just because I'm not
really much for beachy delights. For one thing, good beaches in Dubrovnik
are few and far between and the nightlife is far from banging. The majority
of the tourist population in Dubrovnik are couples and Saga holiday groups.
The Old Town is incredibly pretty and the views from the ramparts are
amazing but I wouldn't recommend staying for more than 3 days.

Vienna - So far has been exactly what I'd expected except perhaps a little
less pretty and picturesque and larger than I thought it would be. Today was
our first full day in the city and we managed to fit in quite a lot
including the Belvedere (with an impressive collection of Egon Schiele's
work and a fair amount of Klimts. Cue more splurging in the museum shop...),
the ferris wheel (as featured in The Third Man and a little like a less
impressive version of the London Eye), Stephensplatz cathedral (not
impressive at all, too touristy with too little outstanding features. Once
you've seen a neo-Gothic tower, you've really seen them all...) and also the
quirky houses by an artist that I forget the name of. Tomorrow, more
museums, namely Freud and Mozart. Hurrah!

Anyway, I feel the eyes of fellow hotel guests burning into my neck as they
wait for the free Internet facilities. I will have to restrain myself from
bellowing at them about my lack of Internet for the past 3 weeks. I bid you
auf wiedersehn dear readers and normal transmission will be resumed soon as
I will be back in the Big Smoke on Thursday (arriving to some tapes of
Doctor Who and Lost and also Take That at the weekend, hurrah! Also another
reason for hurrah, I got a first for my dissertation! Hoorah!!) Toodle pip!

Dzien Dobry!

2006-06-03T18:00:00.000Z

Are you impressed by my Polish? I don't think the Polish people are, I keep
on getting replies in English. Second day in Krakow and I already like it
better than Warsaw. Although Warsaw is the capital of Poland, Krakow feels
much more metropolitan and, well, fun than Warsaw. Warsaw still feels and
looks like it's under communist rule (apart from the chocolate-box
picturesque Old Town. For you Fact Fans out there, Warsaw Old Town is the
newest Old Town in the world. It was rebuilt after the war according to old
paintings and plans and is still listed as a UNESCO historical site due to
the circumstances.) I think I have enough time for a super-quick bout of
listmania...

All Time Top Five...Things To Do In Poland

One // Wilenicza Salt Mines
There's nothing I can say to make salt mines sound fun because frankly, a
salt mine is a salt mine. The copious pictures that I took don't do it
justice either but it really is one of the most fun things I've done on
holiday. The miners who lived down there carved out figures, monuments and
chapels out of salt. There's a giant hall with ornate chandeliers and basque
reliefs of Biblical scenes that are entirely made out of salt. It is
possibly also the only tourist attraction that I know of where you are
encouraged to lick the walls.

Two // Auschwitz & Birkenau
It seems a little grim to visit this as a tourist but I can't really say
much because this is what I spent yesterday doing. It's hard to make the
connection between this quiet and leafy avenue of dilapidated blocks with
the atrocities that occurred there. There blocks that are still in tact have
been converted into exhibitions and tributes. There was an unsettling moment
when I walked into the last block and realised that the empty room I was
standing in was a disused gas chamber.

Three // Lazienski Park, Warsaw
I guess this is the equivalent of Hyde Park for Warsaw but it's nothing like
Hyde Park. For one thing, it is incredibly green and verdant, it's more like
a forest than a park. You can visit the Palace on the Water which is very
Pride-and-Prejudice-esque; the impressive Chopin monument (although Chopin
is buried in Paris, his heart lies in Warsaw. Literally.) and there are
peacocks (who nestle in the trees when it rains.)

Four // Pope John Paul II Art Collection
A rather small and eclectic collection which is housed in a quaint litle
church off Jana Pawla II (they love the Pope here. I was this close to
buying a Pope tea towel.) It contains a few pieces by well known artists (a
Dali, a Constable etc) but it is mainly comprised of portraits, mythology
and Biblical pieces. Good if you have a spare hour to fill.

Five // Wawal Castle, Krakow
The old Royal Castle from Krakow's reign as capital city. By the time I got
there today, most of the exhibits were sold out but I did manage to visit
the free things like the impressive Gothic cathedrel (complete with a woolly
mammoth bone hanging outside the entrance) and the famous Wawal dragon which
breathes real fire. Unfortunately, I was a little too dehydrated from my
pretzel to fully appreciate it.

Anyway, I am being promised beer and am also trying to belatedly book
accommodation for next week (all the 'B' cities - Bratislava and Budapest!)
so I am going to take my leave of you dear readers. Pip pip.

"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, good night, I hate to go & leave this pretty sight"

2006-05-28T23:23:00.000Z

A quick post, as I have to commit myself to an unnaturally early night as I have to get up again at 3am to catch my flight. I am off for 4 weeks to the sunnier climes of Eastern Europe but as I am rather pathetically addicted to the internet, I shall be attempting to blog en-route. I probably will get bored with the enterprise a week into the trip and immerse myself in my reading instead (I'm still trying to decide between an old favourite, The Secret History by Donna Tartt or a new book, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell or The Corrections by Jonathan Fraznen. At the moment I'm leaning towards the Mitchell.)

So all transmissions regarding Girls Aloud, Top Fives and the Doctor of Who will be postponed (although I will just take this opportunity to say that The Idiot Lantern is my favourite episode of new Who so far and has only served to cement Mark Gatiss's position as my favourite Gentleman.) For a fix of listmania, please redirect your browsers to Stuart or 1001 Greatest Pop Songs; musings on the Girls of Allowedness, head over to Popjustice and the fabulous Lee and try and steer clear of Outpost Gallifrey kids, you fall over and graze your knee on the tongues of the rabid Whovians. Go and play in the lovely sandpit at Behind The Sofa.

Toodle pip!

"So, Mr Prehistoric make your wheel / And I'll breathe underwater because I like the way it feels"

2006-05-25T22:34:00.000Z

I think that perhaps my previous list about medical metaphors was some kind of spooky premonition. Don't worry readers, I haven't come down with a rash cash of metaphoritis or indeed contracted an airborne virus that is doubtless traceable to Robert Palmer. I have however lost almost all of my voice. I think it's laryngitis and my mother has mysteriously produced a large quantity of amoxicillin. I ask no questions this time because I desperately want to get better for Monday, when I set out on my trip. The way I'm feeling now, I think I'll get to Poland and desperately pine after my bed and some tea. All in all, I'm feeling pretty pathetic because, wail along with me, I'm ill. Also, I had a weekend of drinking and arms aloft dancing planned but this is probably nixed in favour of flannel pyjamas, plenty of fluids and sensible foods like haddock and porridge. I am wallowing in self-pity and misery by listening to my new favourite playlist of terrible music. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to Boston's More Than A Feeling without fear of being disowned by you, dear readers.

I have spent the past two days trawling every branch of Millets or Black's in south London. I have amassed what I'm sure is a pile of useless accoutrements (fast-drying, anti-bacterial microfibre towel, day-glo padlocks and something I didn't even know existed, what is known as a "Kag In A Bag". I have never owned anything waterproof in my life and now this unblemished steak is broken by what is essential an all-body-umbrella.) As Toby Ziegler once declared: "[I feel] like I've been screwed with my pants on."

A few things before I crawl back to bed and perfect my air guitar skills. This is the wigsome spider that was in my room a few days ago:

Finally, another random body part self-portrait:

"I once saved the universe with a big yellow truck..."

2006-05-22T22:33:00.000Z

It was with some trepidation that I watched this week's episode of Doctor Who. After last week's somewhat underwhelming episode (possibly my least favourite of the season so far), I was fully expecting all the metaphorical stops to be pulled out. And in terms of fire and guts and things blowing up, Age of Steel didn't disappoint. (Allow me to utilise a shoddy metaphor that I haven't really thought through here...) In many ways, The Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel was very much like it's eponymous villains: cold, empty and clunky. There were moments I loved about this episode, moments which made me laugh and cry in equal measures but ultimately, it was a bit of an empty carb of an episode. As ever, review in note form:

- Not so much about the episode but for a flagship BBC show, the BBC aren't treating Doctor Who very well. Could we please just have one transmission time please? I know Eurovision was on this week but what's the excuse for all the previous weeks? (I guess it doesn't really matter much, I'm not going to be here to watch the rest of the season...sob.)
- Production design must have had a job on their hands this week what with Roger Lloyd Pack chewing up the scenery at every given opportunity. Even as a Cyberman, the melodramatic "NOOOOO!" was just a touch Evil Overlord too far. Plus, I just couldn't take the CyberController seriously, mainly because he still seemed to be in a wheelchair (albeit upgraded with some silver spray paint and supplies from B&Q)
- Don't even get me started on the heads exploding and the Cybermen clutching their heads in agony and wobbling around.
- Or even the reaction of the liberated ear-pod people. On seeing a giant slice'n'dice (which incidentally was a total shout-out to the Futurama suicide booth), do you:

a) Scream in a generally useless way, much in the style of Kim Bauer?
b) Scream in a generally useless way, much in the style of Kim Bauer, and leg it?
c) Flatly intone: "Oh no."

- So apparently, in the parallel universe the whole population of London could fit into Battersea Power Station?
- Last snark: I hated the CGI this week. It was just badly done and clunky and overused.
- I know that the CyberBride scene was a little mawkish but I was still in floods of tears like the girl I am. Anything with a RobotoBride is a good thing in my book.
- Speaking of which, I was somewhat disappointed that there were no CyberBoobies on the girl robots, especially CyberJackie who had some hefty clevage going on in Rise of the Cybermen.
- I loved loved loved Mrs. Moore and knew that this was yet another sneaky Whedon trick and she was going to die. Wah. (Although, I must admit that during the underground tunnel scene, I was convinced that she was a CyberMole.)
- I still don't find the Cybermen scary but the underground tunnel scene was terrifying. So apparently, live Cybermen are fluffy bunnies but deactivated ones wig me out big time.
- I'm glad that they didn't hash up all of Rose's daddy issues again. Mainly because I was already crying half an hour before the end of the episode and that would have just killed me.
- Bring Your Own...Gay Subtext Ricky and Jake were so doing it. Apparently Mickey picked up on this too - note what he said to Jake in the van: "I'm not trying to replace Ricky." I don't know though, the moonlight, the underground resistance life and Paris - expect that "If the van's a rockin', don't come a knockin'" sign to be dusted off.
- Oh Mickey you're so fine... Oh Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. You were a minor annoyance at the start and we all wished that you would stop puppyishly following Rose around. Then we felt bad because we started to realise that you had no-one, that Rose was your only family and that she dumped you for a jug-eared man dressed like a U-boat captain. And then we cheered because you saved the day with your techie know-how and stealthy-yet-slimming ninja-wear. I think it's safe to assume that the door hasn't been left open for Noel Clarke to reprise the role as The Doctor expositioned at the end about parallel worlds etc etc. All we can hope for is a Mickey spin off which involves some mano-el-mano action and anvilicious hints in Doctor Who, Torchwood (CLANG!) style. In memory of Mickey, here's a lovely picture of him in happier times:

- Tennant Adoration My! Tennant can rock a tuxedo. That and the glasses, I was just lost. Also, remember how I remarked that it probably wasn't appropriate for me to sneak some Tennant adoration into my essay? "Coupled with the fact that the current incarnation of the Doctor in David Tennant is much younger and attractive to a female audience than previous Doctors, it is clear that the producers of the show are trying to extend their demographic audience beyond the traditional young male and child audience of the old series"

The Idiot's Lantern next week - woo! Excitement on various levels: a Mark Gatiss penned episode; 50s clothing; meta-commentary on the pleasures of TV and Tennant with a quiff, rreow. Sadly, this episode is going to be the last episode I see for five weeks. However, my ill-timed travels around the Eastern bloc also mean that I don't have to watch Big Brother for five weeks and inevitably slip into a semi-comatose state.

As I haven't done much with my day today, I don't have much to write. There is only so much I can write about supermarket shopping; watching Goal! and a quiet evening spent making mix-CDs. So instead, I shall furnish you with yet another list...

All Time Top Five...Songs That Utilise A Medical Metaphor

One // Fever Kylie Minogue*
This, along with the Alexis Strum track at number two, is the track that spawned the idea for this list. The fever/love metaphor is probably more associated with the Peggy Lee track of the same name. Where the Peggy Lee track was all old-school Hollywood smoulder, Kylie's track is kitschy and seaside-postcard sex. From the perky and cute keyboard introduction to Kylie's sex-kitten posing ("I am ready for the news, so tell me straight / Hey doctor, just what do you diagnose? / There ain't a surgeon like you any place in all the world / So now shall I remove my clothes?") this is Kylie at her best.

Two // Addicted Alexis Strum
This is from Alexis's elecropop wilderness years and like Still Standing it is crying out to be covered by Kylie. Features possibly the best pop reference to a dairy product: "I'm a junkie / I've overdosed / On Chunky Monkey / Sweet stuff I need the most." It also has handclaps which as we all know is a vital ingredient for Pop Greatness (see also: Hey Ya!, OutKast; Real Life, Girls Aloud; Mickey, Toni Basil; Come Out 2Nite, Kenickie; Teenage Kicks, The Undertones etc) As her album of the same name never got released, the track is pretty hard to get hold of but it is floating around the interweb somewhere and is well worth the search. (Although it's worth avoiding the comedy dance remix by Xenomania.) An unhealthy relationship never sounded so danceable.

Three // Just Like A Pill Pink
"I can't stay on your life support cos there's a shortage in the switch / I can't stay on your morphine cos it's making me itch / I said I tried to call the nurse but she's being a little bitch / I think I'll get out of here..." I think this is probably my favourite Linda Perry penned track of recent times and certainly a highlight of Pink's second album, the txt-tastic, M!ssundaztood. More bad relationships and dependance coupled with Pink's shouty angst. I have a little bit of a problem with Pink's Feminist-For-Beginners approach and her faux-punk-grrrl-power branding but that's all really theory. I listen to this and Stupid Girls and remember that Pink is an excellent pop star. (Well, what other contemporary pop star can you imagine naming their album I'm Not Dead?)

Four // Addicted To Love Robert Palmer
Er, a slightly embarassing choice, I know. I can quite unashamedly admit to my love of Hanson and the Backstreet Boys but admitting to really loving this track makes me want to hide in a dark corner of the internet. Anyway, it was between this or Kelly Clarkson's Addicted but this won out because this is probably played in Spearmint Rhinos more than Kelly's angst-fest. Also, there's the video without which we might never have had Shania Twain parading her wares in the midst of oiled-up himbos and the 'hilarious' Richard Curtis send-up in Love Actually. Is it wrong that I really want to hear this at a club and bellow along to the lyrics: "Your heart beats in double time / Another kiss and you'll be mine."

Five // Crazy Chick Charlotte Church
A little tenuous I admit but it was either this or Alanis Morissette's I'm Not The Doctor which I don't like very much. Besides, Alanis doesn't make any mention of leather couches, psychotherapy or PhDs (POP FACT: any mention of a PhD in a pop song guarantees a fantastic track. See also: Racy Lacy by Girls Aloud ("I know this girl / She's not too bright / But she's educated in bed alright / She's made seduction a work of art / A PhD with her legs apart.")) Anyway, how could I possibly choose Alanis over this 60s Motown stomper? (Slightly unsavoury tangential note: A friend of mine misinterpreted the lyrics as: "You're driving me to insanity / All the things you do / You make me come on you" instead of "You make me come unglued".)

Also up for consideration: It Makes Me Ill *nsync (disqualified as usage of "ill" was in the street sense of the word); Tired of Being Along Al Green (being tired technically not a medical metaphor, perhaps just a sign of low blood sugar?); Fever, Peggy Lee; Addicted, Kelly Clarkson; Not The Doctor, Alanis Morissette or anything by Alan Fletcher's (a.k.a Dr. Karl Kennedy) band, The Waiting Room.

* Yet more reasons to love this track. This is Kylie's performance from An Audience With... and although the concept of the whole performance is fantastically camp and kitsch, what really makes it is the horrified/indifferent expressions of various members of the audience. Watch as Boy George perfects his lemon-sucking octogenarian impression! See Vernon Kaye's crushing disapproval! Be puzzled at the random woman who appears every so often, wildly flailing her arms about!

Anyway, it's 1:34am and I still haven't watched I Heart Huckabees or Melinda & Melinda yet. Toodle pip.

"daylight licked me into shape / I must have been asleep for days"

2006-05-21T03:03:00.000Z

Sleep was quite high on my list of post-dissertation priorities but unfortunately, the events of the week have conspired against a full-night's sleep. Last night, Priya arranged for all the people on our degree course to go out to celebrate the end of university and I was slightly dreading it. You see, for me, university wasn't the life-changing experience that it purports itself to be. In fact, I don't think since I was 14 that I've ever been unhappy for such a constant period of time. When I finished my A-Levels, I resolutely decided against university, partly because I had never wanted to go and partly because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. After taking a year out and rapidly realising that full-time work was the rock, it was with trepidation I approached the hard place. I applied for English Literature degrees in all the universities in London and for some reason or another, I ended up at UEL.

When I applied for university, I didn't want the typical student experience, as far as I was concerned it was a way of killing time in a productive way. You know that old adage about how the people you meet at university are your friends for life? In my experience, that hasn't been the case and perhaps partly that is my own fault (I am aware that the impression I give off to strangers isn't representative of what I'm really like. Like many shy people, I think others probably think that I'm rather stuffy, straight-laced and stuck-up. Incidentally, whilst talking to some of the others on my course last night, we were having that what-did-you-think-of-me-when-you-first-met-me conversation which only served to confirm these suspicions...) For the record, UEL is a new university, its intake comprises of a large proportion of mature students, international students and those who don't necessarily have academic qualifications. Combine this with the fact that the Docklands campus, beautiful though it is, is actually located in Beckton, which is pretty much the middle of nowhere. Beckton is perhaps the most depressing place in the world, it's a flat and empty landscape, only broken up by the grey ribbons of motorways and dual carriageways. It is also alarmingly close to Essex. In fact, you could use those very terms to describe the social life at the university.

Needless to say, when I first started at UEL, I was somewhat disappointed. Looking around the group of people at Induction Day, 80% of the people on my degree course were mature students. As I got to know some of the younger people on the course, I became increasingly frustrated, I had nothing in common with these people. There were no points of commonality between us apart from our ages: they all lived in Essex or East London and I lived way down in South London; I enthused about pop music and television whilst they immersed themselves in talking about drinking and white-stiletto nights out; during seminars, while I was attempting to talk about the topics without seeming too geeky, they sullenly sat there and contributed single-sentance answers. It didn't occur to me to try and befriend any of the older students, partly I am ashamed to admit, because it wasn't very cool. My first year at UEL was quite lonely and I found myself feeling more and more frustrated and angry that I was being robbed of a proper student experience. As much as I love my friends, on hearing their tales of life in halls, I was incredibly jealous in that way that unhappy people are only content on hearing that others are similarly unhappy.

The second year came around and I'd started befriending some people I had never noticed before. Having had such a disappointing first year, I let myself get carried away and overlooked the fact that I also didn't have much in common with these people because I was too overjoyed at being part of a little group. However, this too was short-lived as the group dispersed as various members dropped out (UEL also has the highest drop-out rate in the country. I guess we had to be good at something.) It was at this point that I started getting to know the older students on my course and I realised that I got on with them far better than any of the younger students. They were funny and inquisitive and talkative and raucous and there was none of that cautious sizing-up that comes with people my own age. However, these were people who had given up careers and had wives and husbands and children and a mortgage. These were not people I could imagine populating my life in years to come, whose faces would be in birthday photos and nights out. However, despite going out last night, armed with an excuse to leave early, I found that I had one of the best nights out in recent memory. Despite spending the first half of the evening in a cramped, sweaty, noisy bar in Brick Lane. Despite the rain. Despite spending the second half of the evening in what appeared to be a BNP pub in Brick Lane. Despite it being karaoke night in said pub. Despite being accosted by a drunken be-anoraked idiot from the BNP pub, who laid on the charm and aquired my fake email address with the immortal line: "You look like you take it up the arse." Despite the fact that there were no night buses running from Liverpool Street to Peckham. Despite the fact that it took an hour and a half to get home. Despite the fact that I had work the next morning. I put it down to the funny and inquisitive and talkative and raucous people and although I might not have left with the quintessential student memories of messy flats and drunken nights that somehow involve traffic cones, I did leave a little more open and about 5 drinks drunker.

Anyway, that is all an incredibly long way of trying to say that I've been sleep-deprived for the past two weeks and that it is due to this that I overslept and missed Doctor Who this week. So, the weekly musings on the fineness of Mickey, the pertness of the Whovian ladies' breasts and as ever, the loveliness of Tennant will be postponed until tomorrow when I watch the repeat.

Stolen from well, practically every diarist and blogger this side of the galaxy but specifically the lovely and fragrant, Stepfie and Stuart.

Six Weird Things About Me

One // I am absolutely obsessed with subtitles. I will watch anything and everything with subtitles much to the annoyance of my friends. It's gotten to the point where if I watch something without subtitles, like a film in the cinema, I have a little difficulty in catching all the dialogue without the aid of subtitles and I end up having to focus very intently on the actors mouths.

Two // I have a seemingly boundless capacity for sleep. I have been told that I just fall asleep straight away (much in the style of Homer Simpson). 8 hours a night is just not enough, at least 10 hours enables me to be fully functioning and lucid. I have been known on occasion to sleep for the whole day, only arising from bed at 5pm. I know, it's disgusting. However, even more strangely, I cannot sleep on planes and trains or any other form of transportation. Which usually means that I spend flights trying to surreptitiously unentangle my shoulder from strangers's lolling heads.

Three // I refuse to go into a hairdressers anymore. I have had far too many bad experiences with them. I am sure that every girl has had that dreadful experience of going into a hairdresser armed with a precise idea or picture and only to have your hair butchered into the style that the hairdresser thinks is suitable. Also, hairdressers seem to operate using a different system of measurement to everyone else, I have now learnt that asking for half an inch off results in a trim. Ask for any more than that and you will find most of your hair adorning the floor of the salon. I haven't been to a hairdressers in five years and instead I cut my own hair over the bathroom sink.

Four // Despite being brought up on Vietnamese food, I never learnt how to use chopsticks until I was about 12. When I was little, my Dad tried to teach me by encouraging me to practice picking up his cigarette butt ends (classy). My 7 year old self assumed that as I was An Oriental, my chopstick skills were innate and like some kind of slow-release knowledge, I would miraculously just know how to use them one day. In fact, I actually still don't really know how to use them properly, everyone comments how how I hold my chopsticks strangely (I hold them like a pen).

Five // You would think that being an only child, I would have had an imaginary friend but this was never the case. Perhaps the spoilt brat in me didn't want to share my Polly Pockets.

Six // I had a Catholic education (not weird in itself. Well kind of...) and in order to get into Catholic schools, I had to attend church every Sunday and go through all the Catholic rites of passage, including confession and First Holy Communion. (Incidentally, I loved my First Holy Communion dress despite the fact that it was made out of net curtains.) I always found confession quite stressful and intimidating, so as a result I didn't go very often. However, when I was made to go I always confessed the same sin of having broken a marble elephant and hiding its trunk down the back of the sofa.

Anyway, I am attempting to get my body clock back in order, so I take my leave of you now gentle readers. Bonne nuit.

"let's make a move / let's leave this world behind / I know you approve but I look in your eyes..."

2006-05-19T03:08:00.000Z

As you can see dear readers, the blackboard is happily not barking orders at me to WRITE anymore. I fear I was a little optimistic in scheduling a social appointment every day of the week and I am exhausted. By happy chance, Meg has requested our rendezvous to be moved to the evening so I was able to languish in bed until 1pm. I was vaguely considering going out and running some errands but having just signed up to last.fm, I think that perhaps any thoughts of venturing outside the house are to be banished. The past few days have been taken up with extraordinary amounts of shopping, wine-drinking and generally doing nothing purely because I can do so without feeling guilty. As proof of this, I present to you a blackboard that Stuart requested:

If any of my readership want to request a blackboard message, please press 1 on hearing the beep.

So, Tuesday was taken up with shopping at the poor-chav's Bluewater, Lakeside. (I once saw Jodie Marsh and then boyfriend, Fran Cosgrove shopping at Lakeside. FACT. EDIT Well, when I say saw, I mean that my friends pointed them out to me and I saw their departing backs. I did not see Jodie's Trivial Persuit wedge. Ahem.) My trip being a little over a week away, I desperately need some, whisper it, practical clothing. Living in London, the idea of practical clothing is alien to me. It's all very well to throw on a pair of slouchy jeans and ballet pumps but I'm afraid that this favoured combination of mine will not fare me very well for 3 weeks in Eastern Europe. So, it is with trepidation that I went in search of a pair of combats and hoped that I didn't look like I was on a one-woman mission to resurrect late-1990s, All Saints inspired workwear. I found myself cooing over all the pretty skirts that are being hauled out in preparation for summer. It was then I realised that I wasn't really cut out for this trip. What on earth made me think I could be a earth-mother type, being at one with the goats and the dirt and without my favourite MAC products and my curling tongs?? Well, I shall either return a convert to backpacking ways or swearing off any travelling that does not involve a bed and a shower of some sort.

Anyway, having bought a pair of the required cropped trousers, I turned my attention to far more pressing matters. Namely, my ever continuing search for the perfect face powder. After my last powder disaster with Clinique's Gentle Light powder (too glittery, too child-rummaging-around-in-mother's-make-up-box), I was determined to stick with my original choice, the Yves Saint Laurent Matt & Radiant Pressed Powder:

It is a truly humbling experience to discover that in fact, you are always right and that in fact, you should always stick with your initial instinct rather than getting swayed by such matters as loyalty card points. The powder comes gorgeously packaged, which as any make-up junkies know is half the fun of buying make-up (this is also where MAC falls short with its minimalist matt black packaging. Please MAC, take note from Pout and Paul & Joe.) The actual compact is rather fabulously Dallas-tacky, gold and emblazoned with the YSL logo and inside, the powder is pressed into the shape of a heart. The powder itself lives up to it's name, it gives a gorgeous matt finish and sets your make-up without giving you that cakey, flat look that a lot of matt powders give. I attribute this to how finely milled the powder is, it's pretty invisible and you also don't need to use a lot. My make-up splurging didn't end there. Yesterday, whilst in Covent Garden, I took the opportunity to visit the MAC shop and check out the new line of liquidlast eyeliners and I just fell in love with this:

The picture doesn't accurately convey how vibrant and gorgeous the colour is. It's very much like the Limited Edition glitter eyeliners from last Christmas, the turquoise colour Peacocky sold out around the country and was going on eBay for £25 per tube. Anyway, Aqualine is very close to Peacocky but without the glitter, instead it has an irridescent effect. It also doesn't seem to come off which in many ways in a good thing but I imagine at the end of a drunken night out, it is not so desirable to spend 10 minutes rubbing frantically at your eye with a cotton wool pad.

Unfortunately, the weather did not allow for a celebratory picnic in Hyde Park yesterday, so myself and Lindsey ended up in the refurbished Smollensky's on The Strand which was splendid and does a fabulous Polish Martini. Rather worryingly, I found that after one martini with lunch, I found myself slightly staggering out of the door, blinking in the watery afternoon sun. I put it down to the bison grass vodka that goes in those Polish Martinis. For those of you who have never had the good fortune to come across a Polish Martini, they come with the highest recommendation (namely that they are now my drink du choix). Imagine the sweet and comforting taste of apple pie made liquid and alcholic and you're halfway there.

As the picnic was nixed, we had to find alternative entertainment and so we wandered over to Leicester Square to find a film and we ended up watching the latest Uma Thurman vehicle, Prime. Why Thurman can never seem to choose a good script is beyond me, she has proven herself to be a capable and charming actress and yet continually seems to choose Kate Hudson's castoffs. Anyway, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with the film, it was just a little odd. Uma Thurman and Bryan Greenberg (diet Jake Gyllenhaal: "all the flavour of Gyllenhaal with 50% less charisma!") have no chemistry whatsoever. In a bizarro-land twist, Madhur Jaffrey makes a cameo as a therapist. Meryl Streep phones in her performance. The whole thing seemed very much like a short-pants karaoke version of a Woody Allen film. It was brimming with the usual New Yoik stereotypes: slouchy arty kids living in the Village; Upper West side Jewish psychoanalysists, uber-camp fashionistas, shimmering shots of the city at night and characters tripping off to the Hamptons. However, I think perhaps it isn't the chick-flick that the advertising suggests (another casualty of In Her Shoes syndrome) and I think that probably I'm in the wrong demographic to really appreciate the film.

Anyway, this brings us up to today and Meg has just gone home a little while ago. We had planned to have a night in with some dinner and one of our favourite trashy films, Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights. However, in between watching the e4 episode of Lost that I taped the other night and Big Brother, we didn't get around to it. By the way, can I just say that the northern screeching harpy that goes by the moniker of Lisa is giving my people a bad name and that rest assured, the majority of us are in no way like her. Don't even get me started on Marco Part II, Shabaz; running around the house like a hamster on speed, screeching and pawing at every housemate walked through the doors. The only housemate that I warmed to was the fabulously misanthropic Dawn ("A determined and serious lady, Dawn is a strict vegetarian who loves her own company. She takes pleasure in reading textbooks, and spends a lot of time finding fault with things.") Dawn to win please viewing public.

Anyway, I digress, in tribute to our unwatched film of choice tonight, I present to you another All Time Top Five...

All Time Top Five...Dance Movies*

One // Strictly Ballroom
The first installment of Baz Luhrmann's Red Curtain trilogy and I think it's the one that stylistically and aesthetically sticks out the most from the trilogy. Where Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge! have that hyperfast MTV editing, the postmodern references and the heightened reality thing going on, Strictly Ballroom is a mock-documentary and exhibits a much more dry humour as opposed to the hyperactive farcical humour that is on display in the later films. Like all good dance films, it follows an underdog-triumph-over-adversity type storyline combined with the fairy tale ugly-duckling plot. But really, what I love about the film is the story between Fran and Scott. And also the hotness of Paul Mercurio does not go unappreciated. Oh and also, the film features the best use of Time After Time ever. Besides, how can you resist a film that features the following line of dialogue: "I have to help Wayne with his bogo pogo."

Two // Save The Last Dance
Any combination of dance film and teen film was guaranteed to be a favourite of mine. Strangely enough, I hadn't seen this film until two years ago when Priya bought it for me as a thank-you for helping her move into her new flat. Although the film is to blame for the popularity of Fatman Scoop and Be Faithful, it is hard to hate the film. Mainly because it has the luminous moon-faced Julia Stiles in it. Dancing. In a white girl manner. Fantastic!

Three // Honey
Ah, more 'urban' teen movie fare. It seems as if Dangerous Minds has a lot to answer for. (See also: Coach Carter, Sister Act 2) More triumph-over-adversity! It's a winning formula, along with Jessica Alba and her amazing rippling, oiled abs (sorry, got a little carried away there. Ahem.) and a scene-stealing cameo from everyone's favourite hip-hop lesbian mogul, Missy Elliott. Also features a cute kid with a large afro. Always the mark of a good film I say. (See also: umm...)

Four // Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights
I am aware that this is somewhat of a controversial choice. I am aware that the majority of people have probably never seen this sequel. I am aware that the majority of those who have don't prefer it to the original. However, having never seen the appeal of Patrick Swayze (Kurt Russell lite: "all the flavour of Swayze but without the famous wife!") and especially not the Swayze-penned ode to flatulance, She's Like The Wind, the charms of Diego Luna (formerly seen sexing it up with Gael Garcia Bernal in Y tu mamá también) have endeared me to the sequel. The film itself is pretty much like the original, transposing the coming-of-age story to revolutionary Cuba and also features a cameo from the now haggard Swayze (obviously fatigued from all the paedophilia/house burning that heralded his comeback).

Five // Dance With Me
For the eagle-eyed and well, frankly bored, of you, you will have noticed that last Saturday's Channel 5 Afternoon Movie was this little known gem. For all its faults (namely recycling all the cliches of the genre into one tasty yet digestible whole), it remains a rather entertaining romp. Criticise Channel 5 all you want but they certainly have their scheduling down: straight-to-DVD films go on in the afternoon, soft porn at night. The film tells the story of a young Cuban, Rafael who after having buried his mother, goes in search of his American father. His father runs a dance studio in Texas and it is there that he meets Ruby (played by Vanessa Williams: diet Vivica Fox who in turn is Jada Pinkett lite. Which really makes Vanessa Williams the Hellmann's superlight mayo of the trio.) Ruby is the typical single-mum, hardened survivor heroine of these films and predictably her heart of stone is melted by Rafael and his hips of red-hot rhythm. There is also dance competition shoehorned in at the end in an effort to showcase Elaine-from-Ally McBeal's-interpretive-dance-abilities. If this doesn't persuade you to watch this film, I don't know what will.

* really the title should be All Time Top Five...Dance Movies (Subject To Change Until I See Flashdance and Footloose)

"dance with me pretty boy tonight / dance with me and it'll be alright"

2006-05-15T16:50:00.000Z

It's been the bane of my life for the past five months. That pile of 104 pages has been the cause of many a sleepless night and many hours of procrastination. But there it is, all done and it's out of my hands now. I'm free! My evenings aren't automatically prefixed by the thought of what I need to read for tomorrow's lecture. My evenings, my afternoons, my days, they're all mine to do with what I please. I could stay in bed all day, watching television and reading and whatever I please. I could start on my reading that I've put aside because I haven't had time over this past year. (I honestly cannot remember the last book that I read out of free will.) I could walk along all my favourite bridges in London, just me and my iPod. I can spend hazy evenings in the pub with my friends, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. I can go back to compiling frivolous Top Five lists. The possibilities are endless. But right now, I think I'd be more than happy with just curling up in bed and falling asleep to my Buffy DVDs because I haven't slept for 42 hours.

"that's when good neighbours become good friends..."

2006-05-14T17:10:00.000Z

I can't quite decide whether this is the worst thing I've ever seen or whether it's been the highlight of my week. Actually, anything that includes the combination of Harold Bishop rapping and Karl Kennedy thrusting his hips at the camera definately falls into the former. Skip ahead to the 1:30 mark and prepare yourself for the horror (my eyes, my eyes etc etc).

"You are not compatible. You will be deleted."

2006-05-14T03:52:00.000Z

Well, I would like to say that upon hearing these words, a bolt of fear was struck into my heart. However, as much as I wanted to enjoy this episode, I found it all a little underwhelming. I'm not sure if it's because after the breathless pace of the episodic format so far as conditioned me for 45 minutes gallops around time and space. Certainly, Rise of the Cybermen marks a return to a more old-school science-fiction sensibility. In a way, the Cybermen are a trope of science-fiction and this theme has been endlessly explored, especially in recent years with films such as I, Robot and The Matrix. The wonderful thing about science-fiction is that it is a veritable playground for writers. You can create a hermetically sealed universe, a world that is removed from our own reality in order to discuss issues (perhaps too controversial) that are too close to home. Science-fiction has always dealt with our anxiety about technology, specifically the line between humanity and artifical intelligence. In all good science fiction, it isn't the cold, heartless robots that are the most terrifying, it's the ones with some vestige of humanity. The daleks here are a perfect example - remember last season's encounter with the new improved daleks? To (mis)quote: "Since when did daleks believe in god?"

Anyway, this is all an incredibly prolixitous and long-winded way of saying that I didn't find the Cybermen very scary. Last year, I was fully anticipating burying my face in my pillow in fits of laughter at the return of the daleks but in fact, they were incredibly menacing and chilling. Being unfamiliar with the previous incarnations of the Cybermen, I didn't know what to expect but I certainly didn't expect 45 minutes of a badly drawn parallel universe, an ex-member of Byker Grove and some half-hearted Mary Shelly references. (Well, technically not Mary Shelly, needless to say she never penned the words, "It's alive!! Alive!!!") Perhaps I'm being a little harsh on the episode, perhaps I should reserve judgement until I see the Cybermen in their full foil-plated killing glory. You never know, by next Saturday, I could be hastily editing this entry beyond all recognition. As ever, my Doctor Who review in note form:

- Yay for continuity. Well sort of continuity I guess seeing as we've moved sideways into a parallel universe but Rose's dad is back! Mercifully (for both his reputation and our eyes), he doesn't have to don that terrible Miami Vice via Lewisham market look anymore. In Father's Day I couldn't help but think of Dennis Waterman every time he appeared onscreen.
- Oh Mickey you're so fine... Hurrah for Mickey's long-overdue character development! Though, as many on Behind the Sofa have noted, this is most probably a Portent of Doom. A sneaky Whedon-esque trick (remember Jesse anyone?) Since Noel Clarke has confirmed that he isn't going to be in Season 3, we can perhaps expect the Death of Mickey (and the death of the Oh Mickey you're so fine sections of the reviews) soon. Perhaps the Death of Mickey signals the downfall of this new arrogant Doctor? (I refer you back to the Portents of Doom in Tooth & Claw and School Reunion.)
- The one thing I did like about the Cybermen was the fabulous Art Deco look they were sporting. I mean, if the 1920s/1930s are good enough for Christina Aguilera, it's definately good enough for the Cybermen.
- I also liked John Lumic's old-school wooden wheelchair. That certainly explains his general grouchiness.
- Hey! Look It's... Blossom-off-of-Eastenders!!
- Hey! Look It's... that-one-off-of-Byker Grove (ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!)
- Pop Culture Watch As I've mentioned before, I don't think that the pop culture references sit very well in Doctor Who but I can make the exception for Tight Fit's masterpiece, The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Incidentally, this was the scariest moment of tonight's episode. (And I don't meant that in a snark-some way. It was genuinely horrifying.)
- Finally, even I could tell that it was Cardiff substituting for London. London is never that clean. Or quaint. But I can forgive the production team for that because apparently, the Cybermen decided to return to their spiritual home...Peckham:

As a treat to myself after yesterday's fiasco, I have decided to write about Doctor Who and Buffy the Vampire Slayer in my Television and Cultural Change essay. Hoorah. Credit for pontificating on my favourite television shows. Unfortunately, Tennant adoration does not get me good marks so I shall have to pour it all out here. Although, there is not much to say this week apart from: the emo glasses were back again, rrreow. Monday marks my freedom from this seemingly endless carousel of WRITING and I can get back to compiling All Time Top Five lists. I already have some great lists lined up (All Time Top Five Dance Films; All Time Top Five Songs That Use A Medical Metaphor; All Time Top Five Songs About Dancing etc etc) and I have also been meaning to do that weird thing meme that has been doing the rounds. Rather worryingly I can only think of two at the moment when I know that in reality I am just neuroses and strange habits strung together. Anyway, it is about 2 hours away from dawn and I only have 785 words done. Pip pip.

"Je suis un peu de nuage noir de pluie..."

2006-05-12T21:49:00.000Z

Ah, look at me, grinning away there. This should be what my face looks like on May 15th when I officially finish university and hand in everything (including the Accursed Dissertation). However, due to extenuating circumstances (although technically they don't fall into the category of extenuating circumstances), it appears as though the above face is going to be put on hold for another three months or so.

To put it simply, today ranks amongst the All Time Top Five Worst Days of My Life. Normally, as an eternal (ly annoying) optimist, I would count myself fortunate not to have enough days to fill up this list. However, my usual cheery facade somewhat clashes with the constant stream of profanities that is currently running through my mind. The end of semester is never a good time for any student. I am sure you've all fallen victim to your own laziness/procrastination/disorganisation and have had to frantically rectify the situation by staying up all night, typing out whatever garbled semi-formed critical thought pops into your mind. I was quite resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to have much sleep this week. (Mainly because I knew that next week, I could sleep as much as I wanted to.) However, what I wasn't prepared for was a sweaty-palmed, blind panic on the sudden realisation that I wasn't going to make my deadline. I have never missed a deadline, so I guess it had to happen some time. Unfortunately, the "some time" happens to be during my final year.

Although my university is on the other side of the river, with the combination of my cunning and slightly reckless driving, I can usually make it door-to-door in half an hour. With deadlines however, I have learnt from past experience that leaving an extra hour or so ensures that I don't go ballistic with worry at all the potential disasters that could happen between Peckham and Beckton. So, although I was running a little later than intended, I still managed to leave my house at 2:30pm. I was quite pleased with myself, I had written a 4000 word essay in the space of approximately 12 hours and it had only taken me 10 minutes to get to the Rotherhithe tunnel. Oh yes, it was going to be one of those kind of days where I listen to ELO's Mr Blue Sky on repeat. All was going to plan until I got to the Rotherhithe Tunnel approach and was confronted with a large, shiny, slightly dented (no doubt from enranged young women), yellow signed: TUNNEL CLOSED. So it was back around the roundabout and I doubled back on myself, yet another 10 minutes. The other option open to me is the Blackwall tunnel and whilst usually I would be worried about the traffic, I reasoned that it was 2:50pm on a weekday, surely everyone was at work? The next hour and a half found me alternately sitting stationary in my car or zooming off to another route that I knew of.

By the time I arrived in Lewisham, the vague thought had formed in my mind that perhaps I should ditch my car and (god forbid) use the DLR. Weighing up the odds (and my monumental laziness/tiredness), I decided that perhaps sticking with my car was better. After all, at least in my car I could listen to this week's Pop Revival (Kylie's Body Language). Another 15 minutes elapse and it's now 3:40 and I am coming up to the Cutty Sark DLR station. It is at this point that I realise nothing I do will get me to university in time for the 4pm deadline. Very much like the child sent to the back of the class with the glitter glue and safety scissors, my damned optimistic streak piped up. I could still possibly make it to university for 4:15 and beg and plead and (perhaps) cry at the administrative staff. So, I continued driving.

A few minutes later, I realised that I had an appointment with my dissertation supervisor which I was already dreadfully late for. However, by this point I was already on the Blackwall Tunnel approach and there was no time to frantically scrabble around for me phone. Straight after coming out of the tunnel, I found myself sitting in stationary traffic again. So, I take the opportunity to call my supervisor. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a large white vehicle adorned with fluro go-faster stripes pull up slowly next to me.

Uh oh.

As casually as I can, I inch the car forwards and hope that the law enforcers on my right don't figure out my cunning plan.

Uh oh. I've been rumbled.

I throw caution to the wind and decide that the only thing for it is to slide down in my seat and attempt to let the phone drop to the floor.

What an amazing idea! They will never notice the hot pink shiny thing slithering down from my ear to the car seat. Just as I am about to claim my victory and outwit the law, I look down and notice that my phone has proceeded no further than 8 inches from my ear. Stupid breasts.

It is at this point that the policemen start beeping their horn and making the international sign for "Could you please roll down your window madam?" It is at this point that I decide that crying is definately the way forward.

"You're not really paying attention to the road, are you madam?"

So, it is with little more than a mumbled "NoI'mveryverysorry" and a rush of blood to the face that I speed off, in the hopes of making 4:15pm. But, today being the Worst Day Ever, that is rather foolish of me to think that anything will go right. I eventually arrive at university at 4:30pm, two whole hours after I left my house. Inevitably, the Student Enquiry Desk is closed, so I can't hand in my essay. My supervisor is nowhere to be seen. I'm having one of those, God-why-did-I-wear-this-in-public moments. I am convinced that were I not utterly exausted to the point of delirium, I would have collapsed in a heap in the university square.

It is at this point that I spot my supervisor smoking outside the bar and I head over. Upon sight of my crumpled and haggard visage, she has already guessed what has happened and is all embraces and sympathy. The way that the day has progressed so far, I brace myself for a full scale attack on my dissertation, all 10,000 words of it. Instead, perhaps because of today's events, I mercifully get what I want to hear. Declining offers of a drink, fearing that alcohol would truly tip me over the edge of the precipice of sanity that I am teetering on, I decide to make my way home. So here I am, back at home, after a further two hours in first gear.

"it's stopped raining, everybody's in a play / and don't you know, it's a beautiful new day"

2006-05-11T19:56:00.000Z

Rejoice for the end is nigh! The Accursed Dissertation is done. Well, I hope it is. I'm emailing it to my supervisor right now and I wait with bated breath for her verdict on it tomorrow. But hang on, there is no time to do an impromptu dance to a Girls Aloud tune of my choice, I fear I have left very little time in which to complete a further 3400 words on my Postmodern Literature essay which is due tomorrow. Eek.

But indulge me, gentle readers, and let me bask in my brief moment of glory:

EDIT: Even my iTunes was aware of the momentousness of the occasion. Witness the songs that it has spewed out ever since I have finished:

Mr Blue Sky - ELO
Touch The Sky - Kanye West feat. Lupe Fiasco
Show Me Love - Robin S.
Happy Together - Jason Donovan
Love Machine - Girls Aloud
I Wanna Be The Only One - Eternal feat. Bebe Winans
Suddenly I See - KT Tunstall
Things Are Getting Better - N*E*R*D
Air Hostess - Busted
Girl From Mars - Ash

Wahey, all sunny arms-aloft "choons". Perhaps some impromptu dancing is called for after all...

"stood there was my neighbour called Peter / and a flux capacitor"

2006-05-10T23:12:00.000Z

!!!

Almost there. I am a third of the way to freedom now. Only a postmodern lit essay on feminist authors and a television essay on postmodern cross-genre shows (Hello Mr. Whedon!) to go. Normal service (i.e. essay length pontifications on Girls Aloud) will be resumed shortly.

"don't let that beat sleep in the suburbs"

2006-05-09T22:09:00.000Z

Quick post, Lost is about to start.

Track of the Week was going to be the fabulously bonkers Shakira with her cover of Hips Don't Lie from the Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights soundtrack. However, her entry has been firmly trounced by the mighty Girls Aloud with On A Round.

5 Reasons Why You Should Love On A Round

One // It was the b-side to No Good Advice which was like five schoolgirls let loose on My Sharona with tamborines. So just imagine what the flipside to that sounds like.
Two // Well, for those of you who are lacking in an imagination, On A Round sounds like an ASBO girl-gang covering Bananarama with Adam Ant drumming in a nuclear fallout shelter.
Three // It features the excellent lyrics "don't let that beat sleep in the suburbs" and "keep that boom-boom back in sound" which are almost on a par with "I flick my finger to the world below / Here I am, dirty hands, I don't give a damn / Shut your mouth because shit might show" or "Bish bash bong woo". A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
Four // The drums are a mash-up of Prince Charming and George of the Jungle.
Five // Err, that's it really.

"Victory is mine! Victory is mine! Great day in the morning people..." *

2006-05-09T13:37:00.000Z

That's right, 7000 words.

!!!

Now, only 3000 more to go, this should be easy.

* Bonus points to whoever gets the televisual reference. No googling please children, we're civilised people here.

"There comes a time, Time Lord, when every lonely boy must learn to dance"

2006-05-08T21:25:00.000Z

Quelle horreur, I forgot to watch Doctor Who on Saturday but thanks to the BBC determinedly milking Who for all its worth, I caught the repeat on BBC3 last night. And oh my, Steven Moffat you spoil us with a crunchy clockwork robot exterior and creamy shipper goodness inside. Slurp. I can only imagine what the hardcore Whovians over at Outpost Gallifrey (where no-one can hear you scream) had to say about the Doctor getting a chance to use his previously "new and unused" parts. (Although, according to this week's commentary, Moffat maintains that the dancing metaphor was merely flirtation and not a big ol' carrot for the viewers and undoubtedly filthy-minded fanfic writers.) I find myself feeling increasingly spoilt with the consistent high quality of season two so far but I wasn't immediately won over by this episode (unlike Tooth & Claw or School Reunion). Nevertheless, the more I thought about it, the more this episode grew on me:

- Over at the TWoP forums, poor Sophia Myles is taking a bit of a bashing but I thought she was an excellent guest star. It was a tough role I think, trying to portray one of the most accomplished women of the age and also trying to get across why Reinette was a match for the Doctor in 45 minutes. Note the Doctor's incredulity when he discovers that this gorgeous girl who randomly plants one on him is also the mistress of the King of France. He is more than a little starstruck and smitten. Then watch Reinette's scene with Rose, I loved how eloquent Reinette was in articulating her dismay at her life being invaded by 51st century clockwork droids. Now think about how Rose would have handled it. That's why the Doctor fell head over heels for Reinette.
- Continuity! I'm a big fan of continuity and obviously Steven Moffat is too with the repeat mentions of bananas and dancing.
- However, I would forego any continuity with bananas if it meant that the drunk Doctor scene was cut out. It's hard to take a Time Lord seriously when he has his tie wrapped around his forehead.
- Then again, any flaws in this episode were made up for by the presence of Arthur. Let's take a moment to ponder the amazingness of Arthur, the 51st century space horse:

It's a horse! On a spaceship!! AMAZING.
- Brace yourself for more amazingness of the Doctor/Arthur the space horse variety:

Okay, a little misleading as Arthur has been replaced by a man and some scaffolding but the Tennant straddling something part of the equation is still there.
- Thank god we've been given a break from the constant Torchwood references. Anvillicious much? As if the JJ Abrams whoring of MI:3 on last week's Lost double-bill wasn't enough.
- I was disappointed to see Micky and Rose getting along so well after Billie's donning of her best bitchface at the end of last episode. It has been subsequently been explained that Moffat didn't read the end of the script for School Reunion and that's why they're getting along so well at the start of this episode.
- The clockwork robots were gorgeous and incredibly creepy. The "insane but logical" reasoning was marvellously chilling.
- As was the creeping realisation that the spare parts that they were referring to was actually the crew.
- This wasn't as much of a sobfest as last season's Father's Day but it was pretty close. Not only was Dame Billie of Piper fabulous in the scene in which Rose gazes up at the broken mirror, broken-hearted. It's a nice continuation of last week's themes, Rose is slowly coming around to the realisation that she isn't going to be the only girl for the Doctor (although clearly the Doctor still loves her). It's also nice to see Tennant do something outside the register of chirpy and bouncy or very! angry! protector! of! stupid! humans!

So, all in all, hurrah!

On the not-so-hurrah front (and also at Stuart's behest), this is le conseil noir for this week:

Yes, so pretty much writing writing writing for me this week. However, next week is my final deadline (hoorah, knees up Mother Brown etc etc) which means that after Monday, I am free to laze about in bed, watching back-to-back episodes of my favourite cult television programmes (and St Elsewhere which I was excited to find that more4 are running during their 2pm daytime slot now. Yay for ridiculous endings) and scarfing down peanut butter and grape jam on toast. (Ah yes, the cornerstone of any nutritional diet.) Anyway, if I am ever to reach the light at the end of this particularly torturous tunnel, I'd better stop scouring eBay for cut price cosmetics and expensive shoes and start on my mountain of writing. Pip pip.

"I'll do graffiti if you sing to me in French"

2006-05-07T01:14:00.000Z

My life, as well as being regimented by The Blackboard of Doom, is propped up on stacks of books. Everywhere I turn, there are little pillars of texts that need to be read or photocopied or quoted from. Despite the quite sizable post-graduation reading list that I have amassed, (Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Penultimate Peril, Cloud Atlas, Eleanor Rigby, The History of Love, Nights At The Circus, The Autograph Man & The Call of the Weird), I could quite happily refrain from reading for a good few months. (Well, I guess I can't tote my usual five books on holiday with me this year, a stack of books is not conducive to backpacking.)

So, my Sunday is going to be spent in front of my computer in an attempt to hammer out 4000 more words in a desperate attempt to finish the Accursed Dissertation and rid my surroundings of these looming pillars. Allow me to live vicariously gentle readers, if I had been more organised, my Sunday might have looked like this:

9:00am // Wake up. Crack one eye open and blearily squint in an attempt to focus said eye on the clock. Decide that it is inhumane hour to be up on a Sunday and promptly fall asleep again.
10:30am // Nope. Still too early. Zzzz.
12pm // Ah, that's more like it. Lie in bed thinking about strange cheese dream I had and then decide that am too hungry to stay in bed.
1:00pm // Showered and ready to face the world, decide that the best way to spend my day is in bed watching season 2 of Buffy.
4:00pm // Wander downstairs in search of food. Return triumphant with peanut butter toast and tea.
7:35pm // Rejoice for Alyson Hannigan is back on my television, alongside Doogie Howser, M.D. star, Neil Patrick Harris, in How I Met Your Mother.
8:00pm // Excellent, Top Gear is on. Cannot let anyone know that I secretly find Jeremy Clarkson quite amusing and that I rabidly fancy diminuative Richard Hammond.
9:00pm // Ooh, more trash television in the form of 50 Greatest One Hit Wonders. This is quite possibly best day ever.
12:10am // Ah, still time to watch more Buffy...
12:40am // Zzzz...

On that note, I suppose I had better refrain from writing my usual essay-length posts and concentrate my WRITING energy on my degree. Le sigh. Happy Sunday gentle readers.

"in my heart I am a poet, don't know how to show it / if only I had Shakespeare's way with words"

2006-05-03T21:45:00.000Z

Yes, today's Pop Revival belongs firmly to the band who have now become the international symbol for Danger! Reality TV Careers Go Down The Dumper Quicker Than You Can Say "It's All A Bit Karaoke."

Ah, One True Voice where did it all go wrong? That's obviously a picture of them in happier times, though what they were celebrating and punching the air in victory for, I'm not quite sure as there was really no point in their short-lived career that was worth celebrating. Except perhaps the entire lyric of their second single, Shakespeare's Way With Words. Sample: "Don't know much but I'm not thick / Know nothing much at all / But I do know one thing / I love you, really love you / And I'd give anything to tell you how I feel inside."

Anyway, I know you must be asking yourselves why on earth I have spent a significant proportion of my day today scouring the internet for One True Voice's past glories. In the grand tradition of procrastination, I have decided that far more important than the remaining 4000 words of my dissertation (not to mention the additional 7500 words that I have to write for other essays) is the Everything You Wanted To Request At The DJ Booth But Were Too Afraid To Ask CD that I have been meaning to make for Meg. So, two hours of my afternoon were spent looking for some quality pop dumper tunes to go on this compilation. I also seem to have developed an inflamed throat. These events may not be entirely unconnected.

Everything You Wanted To Request At The DJ Booth But Were Too Afraid To Ask

1 // Where Are You Baby? - Betty Boo
Obviously in no way is this an embarassing track but I find this track rather scarce on the dancefloors of London.
2 // U.G.L.Y. - Daphne & Celeste
When Daphne & Celeste first emerged, I considered myself much too cool to give them and their (cue indie-sneer) pop music any sort of recognition. Obviously, since then I have lost any semblance of musical pride and I've fully embraced the genii of Daphne & Celeste. Anyone who sees fit to include the lyric: "In your ear with a can of beer / Up your butt with a coconut" is to be the subject of idolatry.
3 // Maria (Un, Dos, Tres) - Ricky Martin
Whoopa!
4 // Bodyshakin' - 911
They used to perform this on tour in fatsuits. AMAZING.
5 // Let's Get Ready To Rumble - PJ & Duncan
It's Ant, it's Declan. They're a duo. (A twosome.) They've so many lyrics, they're frightened to use them. (Pop Fact Partners in crime, who never did time; a sentence for them ends in a rhyme. PSYCHE.)
6 // Steam - East 17
Outside it's raining but inside it's wet. Indeed. (To my chagrin, I have belatedly realised that I forgot to include this on my All Time Top Five Songs That Feature Whistling)
7 // Return Of The Mack - Mark Morrison
Only God can judge him apparently. I don't even think that God will forgive him for being the British R Kelly.
8 // Cleopatra's Theme - Cleopatra
In the grand pop tradition of bands-who-had-a-tv-show (see also: The Monkees, S Club 7 and North & South), Cleopatra were launched on their prime-time CITV soap. Frankly, they weren't very good, the lead singer had a rather irritating wobbly voice but the nation was enthralled because there was obviously a lack of bands comprised of siblings hailing from Manchester...
9 // All That She Wants - Ace of Base
a.k.a. the 1990s version of ABBA. They're Scandanavian! They have an extravagantly bearded member! Three of the members' surnames is "Berggren" which is a bit like "Bjorn" (if you squint a little. Whilst drunk.)
10 // Give It To You - Jordan Knight
Jordan Knight is to New Kids On The Block what Lance Bass is to *nsync. (note: not gay but useless and a pop and/or space aeronautical disaster.) However, we shall overlook his pop dumperdom because he made a mucky pop song ("I don't care who leads as long as we move horizontally / Anyone can make you sweat but only I can keep you wet") with lots of squelchy 'space age' noises (remember it was the late 90s) and a fairground carnival intro and outro. Hurrah!
11 // I Want You To Want Me - Letters To Cleo
This is slightly out of place on this CD as I don't think I would be embarassed about asking for Letters To Cleo at a DJ booth but I fear that at I would be met with a blank look. However, yet another track that is sadly scarce on the dancefloors of London.
12 // Summer Girls - LFO
Do you think perhaps part of LFO's failure to set the pop world alight (however briefly) was because their name stood for "Lyte Funky Ones"? Or perhaps it's because they declared in this track that "New Kids On The Block had a bunch of hits / Chinese food makes me sick / I think it's fly when girls stop by for the summer / I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch."
13 // Summertime - Fresh Prince & DJ Jazzy Jeff
You gotta love a DJ whose alias (bearing in mind that he can choose ANY name) is "Jazzy Jeff". Anyway, surely for anyone who grew up in the 90s, this is a definitive summer anthem, conjouring up memories of hazy afternoons stomping the pavements in light-up LA Gears.
14 // Re-Rewind - The Artful Dodger feat. Craig David
Yes, in the summer of 2000, Craig David was all over your *boink*.
15 // Flowers - Sweet Female Attitude
Without meaning to sound old-codgerish, garage music (even garage-lite such as this track) all sounds the same to me. It's just all looped vocal ad-libs and that funny jittery beat. (I've officially made myself sound older than I ever intend to be.)
16 // All I Want (Sunship Radio Edit) - Mis-Teeq
It is lost to the annals of pop history that Mis-Teeq were tagged as the British Destiny's Child once upon a time. Granted that this comparison was made on the basis that they were an 'urban' act and that at the beginning that had quite a few member changes. Anyway, they soon transcended that to become the First Ladies of UK Garage-Pop and thus the immortal lines were uttered: "M with the I with the S T double E Q."
17 // Flip Reverse - Blazin' Squad
Many don't acknowledge the trail that the Squad blazed (no pun intended). How many people made an ASBO concept album in 2003? The Squad are also notable for spawning Kenzie who on Jodie Marsh's Wikipedia entry is described as having "the social grace of a sanitary towel" (though to be fair that description also encompasses her other conquests such as Kian Egan from Westlife, so there may be some credence to that claim.)
18 // Feel It - The Tamperer feat. Maya
A Jackson 5 sampling disco-stomper that's about a girl forgiving her love rat boyfriend but declaring war on the 'skank-ho' that he cheated with. Features possibly the best pop threat ever: "What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?"
19 // 9 to 5 - Dolly Parton
I've noticed that this track has cropped up on one of the Guilty Pleasures compilation CDs, so perhaps the stigma of asking for Dolly's best has been neutralized however, I love this song so much, I aim to get it on every compilation I make.
20 // Are You Jimmy Ray? - Jimmy Ray
Pop mogul, Simon Fuller, fresh from his victory with the Spice Girls decided to take on the niche market of cod-rockabilly teen-pop artistes. "Are you Jimmy Ray? Who wants to know, who wants to know about me?" The rest, as they say, is history.

Anyway, according to my blackboard, I should have spent today WRITING (and I guess I am certainly doing that but it's not quite what my blackboard intended) and so far, no words have been written today. I've come to the conclusion that I may be suffering from some sort of low-level depression. (As evidenced by my declaration to my friends last night: "Let's get hammered!!" only to be met with pitying looks. Such is my life.) Anyway, I fear that you, my dear readers, will have to endure another two weeks of my moaning about work and writing and endless lists of pop music until I finally regain my life back.

"but lately I've been feeling / that I'm going to give up breathing"

2006-05-01T22:22:00.000Z

The above is my life at the moment, regimented by a blackboard which incessantly urges me to write. It obviously doesn't work that well because I wasted a day today (well, I guess it depends on your definition of "wasting.") Rather astonishingly, I woke up at the eye-searingly early hour of 10am and immediately decided that as it was a sunny Bank Holiday, there was only one way to while away the day and it definately was not in front of my beloved computer. I managed to blackmail Lindsey into coming to Bluewater with me and I managed to deceive myself that I desperately needed to go to rectify my position as terrible-friend-to-Priya, as I had not been in attendance at her birthday celebrations, forgot to text her with a birthday salutation or even bake her a cake. As tomorrow is my last lecture ever (YAY...more on this later), I figured that it was my last chance of seeing her for a while. Not only did I accomplish my mission in buying her a fabulous gift (I was afeared that I had lost the knack of buying presents) but I also bought various treats for myself:

I have been on a search for a perfect powder, well, forever. Having bought the Clinique Gentle Light Loose Powder on a whim today (and also being suckered into spending another £10 on a lipbalm, all for precious Boots points. I should know better having once worked there. Alas, such is the life of a make-up junkie) I'm still not convinced that this is my Holy Grail and that perhaps I should have stuck with the original plan of purchasing the much-recommended, oft-praised Laura Mercier powder. So far, pros: pleasing luminous glow to skin, making me look both fragrant and lustrous; cons: on further inspection, large particles of glitter all over facing, making me look like a mucky seven-year old. Oh crap.

As my life is somewhat empty at the moment, (I tell myself that it's due to the dissertation but I suspect that this may not be the case. In any case, I am going to humour and indulge myself and continue to participate in this masquerade...) I have compiled a list of miscellaneous thoughts:

- Myself and Priya have both independently come to the conclusions that some days are good iPod days. On these golden days, the shuffle function on your iPod both filters out all the songs that are only on your iPod for show and present a selection of songs that you truly love. Today is such a day, in the last twenty minutes of writing this entry, my iTunes has cued-up a veritable feast of boys with guitars: "Actually It's Darkness", Idlewild; "American Trilogy", The Delgados; "Who's David", Busted; "One Two Three Home", Ben & Jason; "Black Hair", Nick Cave.
- Tennant Adoration from this week's Holy Moly mailout: "When new TV Time Lord David Tennant was filming Blackpool, he made Sarah Parish go to a Dr. Who convention with him so he could get his annual signed." That is so geeky, it's adorable.
- I think myself and Popjustice have mind-melded, take a look at both my own and PJ's entries for 27th April. Coincidence? I think not!
- More stolen stuff from the Holy Moly mailout: The First Annual MySpace Stupid Haircut Awards. Looking at those pictures, you would think that MySpace is completely inhabited by the residents of Camden.
- This week my blog has been frequented by people looking for naked pictures of Mark-from-Westlife's boyfriend, pop-dumper-Kevin-McDaid and also someone looking for Howard Donald's MySpace.
- Pop's favourite teenage mother and ex-Sugababe, Mutya is back! With a hideous MySpace which seems to be based on a seventeen-year old boy's lucky pulling shirt. From listening to her solo material, all I can say is that thank god she left the Sugababes. It's bad enough that she campaigned for the crunk-a-licious Gotta Be You to be on Taller In More Ways but she wanted Ace Reject off the album? (Although, it must be said that Gotta Be You does make its way into the All Time Top Five Songs That Namecheck The Artist: "Now you're talking this stuff / Seems I'm getting dissed, what?! / Newsweek would say "today look at Mutya.")*
- Finally, random body-part self-portrait:

* Am not quite sure on the other entries in this list but I am considering including a 5ive song. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

"If up's a one way drop then don't look down / If luck's the second stop I won't turn round"

2006-04-30T11:53:00.000Z

It's rather early for me to be posting, I know. Well, frankly, considering it's a Sunday, it's early for me to be up. Alas, what with the demise of Popworld, there is nothing for me to stay in bed for.

My stupid Amazon DVD rental list sent me all the DVDs from the bottom of my list. I don't really have the time to watch them and I was hoping that they would send the films that I had handpicked for my parents, so that my monthly allowance wouldn't go to waste. I've been meaning to send them back but I don't really want to send them back without watching them. So last night, I decided to have a little late-night film festival (Now Showing: Bottle Rocket, Election and Garden State) and it was all going well until I fell asleep about 15 minutes into Bottle Rocket.

Another late-night disaster: after I got off the phone with Sarah last night, I realised that it was a Saturday night and that Sainsbury's wasn't open for 24 hours. So that left me with no dinner and my heart set on hummus. Armed with a can of chick peas and a hand-blender, I thought that this dilemma could be easily resolved with a little cunning and determination. I found a jar of tahini in my cupboard from my cous-cous phase last year but on opening it, I thought it was better to just forego the tahini and soldier on with my trusty comrades, lemon juice and olive oil. So, the chick peas went into the hand blender and I was a little worried when it just looked like mushy chick peas. I reasoned that the lemon juice and olive oil would turn the humble chick pea into the ambrosia that I was seeking. A-ha, perfect, it looks exactly like hummus, granted, not Sainsbury's hummus, more like Asda hummus but hummus all the same. "I'll just have a little taste....oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick." Gentle readers, the moral of the story is to stock up on food before the supermarket closes and to leave the chick pea be.

And with those words of wisdom, I take my leave of you gentle readers (until I get bored again.) Happy Sunday.

"Correctamundo!"

2006-04-29T21:55:00.000Z

Well, Doctor Who season 2 just keeps getting better and better doesn't it? I imagine old-school fans were rather pleased to see the return of Sarah Jane Smith (Elizabeth Sladen) but to a newbie like myself, it was every bit as enjoyable seeing the claws-out tension between Rose and Sarah-Jane simmering away through the first half of the episode which only served the highlight the 'shipper elements of the resurrected Doctor Who. Once again gentle readers, I presented to you my (kind of) regular dissection of tonight's episode in gushy note form:

- I imagine that I'm not alone in this but I do love the Doctor in his emo-glasses. Rreow. My reaction to the opening teaser scene can be succinctly encapsulated in the Doctor and Sarah Jane's first exchange: "Hello." "I should think so!"
- Tonight has confirmed what I have suspected for a while: dinner ladies are inherently evil. Anyone who forces beetroot, custard and toxic oil on you is definately to be avoided.
- Am I the only one who was left disappointed at the end of the episode because I was eagerly awaiting Mickey's I-told-you-so-dance? (Perhaps a dance to rival Numfar's Dance of Joy?* I know I said I would stop with the Whedonverse comparisons but I think considering tonight's guest star, I can let myself off the hook.)
- Which leads us neatly into this: Anthony. Stewart. Head. (!!)
- Was I the only one who found David Tennant and Anthony Stewart Head's showdown totally ~~arousing~~ entertaining?
- Oh Micky you're so fine... Hurrah, Mickey's back! The much maligned Mickey, poor Mickey. I think the best lines of the night went to him: "...I'm the tin dog!" and "Go sit at the back of the class with the safety scissors and glitter."
- Were the vacuum-packed rats a reference to Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy along with the hive brain idea? Or am I geekily overreaching?
- I spy... more portents of tragedy for the end of the series. If last week's Anvils of Doom from Queen Victoria wasn't enough, Mr. Finch's observation that the Time Lords were "peaceful to the point of indolence" and that they were terrified of change and chaos, yet this Doctor is different.
- The Doctor stroking his Tardis? Well, as he said, being a Time Lord is awfully lonely.
- Micky, Rose and The Doctor all together in the Tardis, I am rubbing my hands together with glee as I type.

All in all, an excellent episode, better than the plot-light, characterisation heavy opening episode of this season but perhaps not as tightly plotted as last week. Compelling viewing all the same and the CGI-morphs this week were ace.

In other news: I was so bored at work today, I was even nice to the kids. I have discovered that I am unbeatable at Connect 4.

I also broke my self imposed no-drinking resolution yesterday. I ended up at the EDT last night after work for leaving drinks for a colleague. I obviously have no will-power at all. I think perhaps I overreacted a little after last Thursday, I shall just have to learn how to take my drink or just be more sensible. I even left relatively early because I intended to go home and do some more writing (rather optimistic, I ended up spending the rest of my evening on the phone, writing emails and watching half of Breaking the Waves.) Walking to my bus-stop I was taken over by a fit of pique that seems to overcome me whenever I've been drinking and I decided to walk all the way home from Dulwich to Peckham. I think drink takes the edge off the fear of being stabbed up by any passing electro girls.

When I got home, I had post waiting for me. As much as I love the Internet, I do quite miss the good old days of postal correspondance. This generation won't have the same thrill of getting a badly written letter from a pen-pal in Brazil. I am currently waging a one-woman effort to bring back the art of letter writing. Anyway, nothing as exciting as a letter (grumble, grumble) but it was the Mania album sampler that I had bought off eBay which is almost as exciting.

Mania in 5 easy to digest factlets:

- Mania were a girl-duo who were less Daphne & Celeste and more like a duo of poppier Siobhan Donaghys/Sugababes Mark I.
- Mania were Giselle Sommerville and Niara Scarlett who met whilst writing for pop-genii, Xenomania
- Their album was spectacularly titled Do You Know Your Daughter's On The Roof?
- Unfortunately, they seem to have sunk into the Pop Quagmire and some of their stuff has been covered by the T4 prock (that's "pop/rock" for the uninitiated to my imagination) band, Frank.
- Their debut and in fact, only, single Looking For A Place is possibly the best song ever that includes whistling. **

Anyway, it is late and I haven't had anything to eat apart from Haribo today. I have developed an insatiable craving for hummus and am currently contemplating whether to make a late-night dash to Sainsbury's. Although I am already in my pajamas.***

*For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of watching Numfar's Dance of Joy, then settle down for the best 1 minute and 42 seconds of your televisual viewing life:

** All Time Top Five Songs That Have Whistling In Them // "Looking For A Place", Mania; "Love Generation", Bob Sinclar feat. Gary Pine; "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life" Eric Idle; "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay", Otis Redding and "Walk Like An Egyptian", The Bangles

*** Gold star to the person who gets the reference. No googling otherwise you shall face my wrath which is akin to the heat of a thousand burning suns.

Oh dear.

2006-04-27T22:34:00.000Z

It seems as though MTV are having a little trouble with finding Nadia Almaida's Number 1 Fan. Little puzzle for you, put these words in order: barrel the scraping.

"don't get me wrong, if I'm looking kinda dazzled / I see neon lights whenever you walk by"

2006-04-27T21:51:00.000Z

Rather predictably, I didn't end up doing any work last night and instead crawled into bed, read a bit of Forty Stories and then promptly fell asleep. I can always tell when I'm tired or overworked because when I wake up in the morning, I find random objects in my bed. This morning it was a green highlighter and yesterday's copy of The Guardian.

I was worrying a little too much over my tutorial with my supervisor I think. She didn't shout at me at all for only having my dissertation half done (in fact, no mention was made of it). She seemed to think that I had it all under control (err...) and she is currently reading over my first 5000 words. I've just realised that I didn't take out the embarassing extended Wizard of Oz metaphor. Oh dear god. I don't know how I'm going to look her in the eye when I've written a sentance as bad as this: "By the time “Notes From The Front Line” was written in 1983, the approach had been refined somewhat and the guerilla tactics on display in earlier work such as The Passion of New Eve (1977) had paved a yellow-brick road to the fairy-tale kingdom for Carter." Oh just shoot me now.

In cheerier news, Lily Allen's new video for LDN has been put up on her MySpace. LDN seems to have been remixed for the release, it sounds more polished and the calypso horn sample sounds cleaner. I must confess, not in a snobby I-liked-her-better-before-she-sold-out way, that I prefer what I imagine is the demo version that is on her MySpace. Anyway, it is still poised to be my summer anthem and I imagine that she will do extremely well. Watch her video here (Windows Media Player) and here (RealPlayer).

Also in LilyWatch: it says on her MySpace that her album is out in July 2006 and LDN was put on the Radio 1 playlist last week, so I think the single will be out soon. There are also pictures from her Vogue photoshoot on her MySpace, so I think she'll be appearing in it next month. Hoorah.

So, today I spent half an hour on the phone to Wanadoo because my broadband connection had cut out for about 3 hours (luckily, I was asleep for 2 of those hours, otherwise I would have probably been in a rather high state of distress.) After asking for my details (and asking if I could be called by my middle name because he couldn't pronounce my first name), the nice Geordie man who was dealing with my enquiry had to put me on hold for 10 minutes because his computer crashed. This hell was only compounded by the fact that the hold music that Wanadoo uses is a musak version of David Bowie's Heroes. Anyway, after getting me to unplug and reset my Livebox and reset my ADSL configuration, he was stumped. By the way, prospective Wanadoo broadband Mac users, don't believe what the Wanadoo website says about no technical support for Mac users because they do provide tech support for us. If you are thinking of taking up the Wanadoo wireless broadband package, then you will need to print this out in order to install the Livebox, as the instructions and installation CD are strictly Windows only. Anyway, the end to this rather dull story, is that I was on the phone for half an hour only to be told that the fault lay with BT, as they had been swamped with calls all day from the London area. As I was pondering how I was going to cope without t'Internet for the evening, my Livebox started blink-blink-blinking away and my life as I know it (sadly) was restored.

A survey stolen from Stuart:

Write fifteen statements, all intended to different people and never tell anyone which is meant for whom.

One // I know that there's an age gap between us and that perhaps we're unlikely friends but I'm so glad I've met you. Up until then, I was feeling pretty lonely this year in the Big Smoke because most of my friends are scattered around the country but you've proved a very dear partner-in-crime.
Two // I am so proud of you for everything you've achieved this year. Sometimes you don't have faith in yourself and I know that you are so much more capable that you believe yourself to be but it's okay because I have more than enough confidence in you.
Three // You piss me off and make me laugh uproariously in equal measures. I couldn't live with you, you'd drive me crazy. But as far as late-night phone conversations and Friday nights in go, you're definately All Time Top Five material.
Four // I feel like I've really drifted apart from you this year. You are still definately the mysterious one and I fear that this will always be the case but you'll never be out of the loop.
Five // I go through phases of thinking about you sometimes. What would you say if you knew that I had a Belle & Sebastian CD in my collection now?
Six // It's odd how just as I was thinking about you, you showed up. I'm sorry for the way I left things, you deserved much better but to be honest, you were driving me crazy and I'm glad that things ended.
Seven // I can't figure out whether you hate me or you're just quiet. I shouldn't really care.
Eight // I can't believe I had a crush on you.
Nine // I'm sorry I'm not a better friend to you. I have no excuse really.
Ten // Why is it that I can express my feeling so easily to everybody else but not to you? I don't say it, but I do.
Eleven // I wish I could make things better for you and sometimes I feel like we've drifted apart because we don't seem to laugh the way we used to. And then, sometimes we do. Your kindness and friendship is never unappreciated.
Twelve // I haven't told anyone, but I think you're kinda cute. You remind me of Alex Kapranos.
Thirteen // We always make promises to keep in touch but we never do. But you understand because you're in the same position as me.
Fourteen // I'm sorry that we lost contact but it was kind of too full-on.
Fifteen // We don't have much in common and it took us a while to find a way of getting along but I'm glad that we did.

That was kind of liberating but terrifying at the same time.

More survey fun. This is based on a feature on Jo Whiley's show a couple of weeks ago and I've been meaning to do it for a while now. Imagine that a film is made of your life and choose a track for each type of scenario as listed below:

Soundtrack To Our Lives

Opening Credits // It's My Life - No Doubt
Waking Up // Fill My Little World - The Feeling
Average Day // Overload - Sugababes
First Date // Don't Get Me Wrong - The Pretenders
Falling In Love // Lovestruck - Will Young
Love Scene // The Real Thing (Wendy & Lisa Flow Jam Mix) - Gwen Stefani
Fight Scene // With Or Without You - U2
Breaking Up // Nothing Good About This Goodbye - Rachel Stevens
Getting Back Together // I Get The Sweetest Feeling - Jackie Wilson (shamelessly pilfered from High Fidelity, I know)
Secret Love // My Favourite Mistake [Live] - Sheryl Crow
Life's Okay // LDN - Lily Allen
Mental Breakdown // Move Any Mountain - Sophie Ellis-Bextor
Driving // Learn To Fly - Foo Fighters
Learning A Lesson // I Don't Like Mondays - Tori Amos
Deep Thought // Everything's Not Lost - Coldplay
Flashback // Again - Faith Evans
Partying // Love Machine - Girls Aloud
Happy Dance // Got To Be Real - Cheryl Lynn
Long Night Along // Song For The Leftovers - A Camp
Death Scene // In My Life - The Beatles
Closing Credits// To The End - Blur

Hmm, time for dinner I think. Well, actually it's very late to be having dinner but what with my screwed up body clock, I'm gonna be up for hours. Anyway, let me know your selections for the Soundtrack To Our Lives. Pip pip.

"heaven, I'm in heaven / and my heart beats so I can hardly speak"

2006-04-26T22:50:00.000Z

I went to see Confetti tonight in a free preview screening. I'm not sure that I'd recommend it, I'm definately glad that I didn't pay to see it. I think the Empire review sums it up pretty well: "Apparently, having established the concept and situations, Isitt had the cast improvise all the dialogue; now we know why Mike Leigh improvises before shooting but has a script down cold when the cameras actually roll. The actors riffing here are funny up to a point; their body language and expressions are more eloquent than the dialogue." Anyway, if you're not averse to watching something light and frothy and don't mind seeing rather more of Peep Show's Robert Webb (Jeremy) and Oliva Coleman (Sophie), then it's not an entirely unpleasant way of spending two hours. Also, if you are a fan of the adorable Playdoh-faced Martin Freeman, then it's worth it just to see him participate in some Fred Astaire-esque dancing. I must confess that myself and Lindsey weren't entirely devoting our full attention to the first 15 minutes of the film as we were both ravenous and intent on ripping into the packet of yum yums that we had acquired at Tesco.

Today's All Time Top Five is inspired by Confetti and is therefore the...

All Time Top Five...Wedding Songs

Ah, the wedding song, the terrain of Diane Warren and Westlife ballads. What better way of celebrating your joyous union with a rousing chorus of Wind Beneath Your Wings? Like most girls, I've thought and planned my wedding in my head (despite the fact that I'm not even sure whether I want to get married. I suspect, it's the prospect of a nice frock and cake that appeals to me more...) Anyway, should I ever get married, I am determined to have a credible first dance song and whilst the chanson du choix has changed many times over the years (much as my funeral song has), there are a few at present that I think would be choices that are appropriate for the occasion (I have heard tales from friends who have attended weddings with horrendous choices, e.g. You Sexy Thing), that are romantic without being trite and syrupy and most of all, cool.

One // Gwen Stefani The Real Thing (Wendy & Lisa Flow Jam Mix)
A vastly underrated gem from Gwen's kalaidoscopic debut album, Love. Angel. Music. Baby. This is the remix by Prince's sometime protegees, Wendy and Lisa which can be found on the Special Edition of the album. The original is pure 1980s sugar-coated pop but the remix is a much warmer and dreamy affair. Imagine Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time mixed with a sparse backing track of an organ and multitracked vocals. This Gwen at her most swoony, even more so than the eternally summery Cool: "You're a salty water ocean wave / You knock me down, you kiss my face / I know the storms will always come / But I still love to have you around."

Two // Ella Fitzgerald Someone To Watch Over Me
I feel that you can't go wrong, as far as first dances are concerned, with a classic and I'm sure that this particular track is frequently employed as a first dance song. The lyrics are certainly fitting: "I'd like to add his initial to my monogram." I can't resist some good old fashioned yearning in ballads and Ella's voice just breaks my heart.

Three // Sugababes Breathe Easy
What would my All Time Top Fives be without a girl group in them? Anyway, this track is very nearly my favourite Sugababes track (I find it impossibe to choose just one) and it features just the girls and an acoustic guitar and it's gorgeous. I think that this track is rather apt for a wedding as it hits just the right tone of hopefulness for the future: "We talk about the places that we intend to be / But if I were there, would you be you and baby would I be me? / I don't want to be somewhere and realise this feeling's gone / I'm lost in these tenses / Confused in my senses / Tomorrow is taking too long."

Four // Al Green Let's Stay Together
A classic and a long-time favourite of mine, the Reverend Al Green. Neither time nor overuse in subpar romantic comedies (read: the *nsync vehicle, On The Line) has eroded the Reverend's appeal and this is definately his finest moment. Once again, fitting lyrics for a newly married couple, almost echoing the wedding vows: "Let's stay together / Loving you whether, whether / Times are good or bad, happy or sad." (Considering current divorce rates, this should be a mantra for newly-married couples.)

Five // John Paul Young Love Is In The Air
Okay, I know that the criteria for this list stipulated that the songs should be cool but unfortunately, it's my list and my rules and I shall break them as I see fit. As we all know, I am definately not cool and my heart truly lies with stuff like this. Yes, I know, it's terribly cheesy, right from the bontempi keyboard introduction to the key change at the end but I just really love how unashamedly uplifting and joyous this track is and in my mind, there is no song that is more made for weddings that this song. All together now..."Love is in the air / Everywhere I look around / Love is in the air / Every sight and every sound."

Other songs which were up for consideration were: "All Time Love", Will Young, "There Is No Greater Love", Amy Winehouse, "Nobody Does It Better" Radiohead (should they ever decide to record it properly), "Sweetest Thing", U2, "I'm Glad You're Mine", Siobhan Donaghy, "Into My Arms", Nick Cave, "Crazy For You", Madonna and "Cheek To Cheek", Frank Sinatra.

Anyway, I must take my leave to cram in some more writing as I have a meeting with my dissertation supervisor tomorrow and am terrified. (Although, obviously not terrified enough to stop me from swanning off to free Heat screenings. Sigh.)

"ooh I thought you knew he was looking for a fair-haired fool like you / he's been waiting all his life to be with you / crazy fool"

2006-04-25T21:36:00.000Z

My dear readers, I have a confession to make to you. I'm not proud of what I've done and I shall try my best to ensure it doesn't happen again.

I had a screaming match in a supermarket car park today.

I know, I know, I'm far too ladylike to submit to such base activities (even with the events of last Thursday...) but the red mist descended over my eyes and I realised that it was my duty to just destroy the haggard douche-bag that launched a screaming fit on me. I mean, living in Peckham, I meet my share of crazies. Well, it's more like three people's share. Anyway, generally they're harmless and whilst not exactly 'eccentric' they tend to err more on the side of 'stalker for a couple of streets'. But this woman was just a crazy bitch. That is actually the official term for such organisms. They're the kind of people that think that the world owes them one and still have an attitude problem about, well, practically anything you could name. I cannot stress enough how unpleasant this hag was.

Anyway, I jumped in at the deep end of the story without even dipping my toe into the water. I was attempting to squeeze my car into a rather tight yet prime parking spot at Morrison's. Meg had gotten out of the car first to get some cash and I was just getting my things together. I got out of the car and was about to open the boot to offload all my university crap when the woman in the midlife-crisis-mobile on my right rolled down her window and unleashed a tirade on me about how I had slammed my door into hers when I had opened my car door. Now, being the well-mannered girl that I am, I usually notice if I bang my door into the next car and if I had, it cannot have been that hard, not enough to incur any kind of damage to the hunk of metal and red paint that this woman obviously uses to prop up her ego. Usually, I would apologise profusely and that would be that but seeing as she was so hostile, I apologised in the most austere manner possible and carried on about my business. At this point, the hag jumps out of her car and scurries over to inspect any 'damage'. Cue more shouting about a non-existent scratch on the rubber stripe along the car door. It is at this point where I lose the small scrap of composure and patience I have and start shouting at this old fishwife that I had already apologised and if she had any grace she would have left it at that. I had apologised and I was sorry but if you are going to park in such a crappy way then these things happen.

I terminated the conversation with a loud "BITCH" and walked away.

I swear to god, when I came back half an hour later, I noticed a scratch on my car that I have never seen before. The crazy bitch had keyed my car! It's not a very big scratch, it's about 3 inches and I'm not really that fussed. I'm really more angry that I didn't manage to hurl more insults at the hag.

Anyway, that's more than enough time devoted to that hag. I've had more good things happen today than bad. The only other bad thing to happen today was that I was unfortunate enough to have sat through the car crash that is The Family Stone. If you're looking for a light, easy romantic comedy, look somewhere else. Granted, it's not as bad as the excreable Must Love Dogs (oh John Cusack, where did it all go wrong??), I actually managed to make it all the way through The Family Stone rather than the 20 minutes of Must Love Dogs which felt like an eternity. I have no idea how such a great cast agreed to such a script which leads me to the conclusion that perhaps the film got butchered during the editing process but the film was so awful, I find it hard to believe that it could have been decent at any point. First off, Sarah Jessica Parker, what were you thinking in taking a role where you play the most unlikable lead character ever (even more so that Julia Roberts's character in Runaway Bride). How are you paying for your Marc Jacobs wardrobe? Let's face it, looking at Matthew Broderick's last couple of films, we can assume that he is definately not the breadwinner of the Parker-Broderick household. So, why on earth would you choose a film in which you play an uptight character whose behaviour borders on autistic when everyone knows you should be trading on your pixie-like charms? Don't even get me started on Luke Wilson's involvement in this film.

Today's yay moments:

- When I went out on Thursday night, I managed to break my favourite earrings by dropping them on the floor. I haven't ever seen them on eBay but when I had a look on Friday, there they were. I decided it was fate and that I would have to secure them. It was a close call but I came out triumphant in this particular battle. Hurrah!
- Today was my penultimate lecture...ever. Hurrah!
- I got to wear my new red polka dot shoes today and in the parlance of the kids, I was rocking the vintage Minnie Mouse vibe. Hurrah!
- Due to our campaigning, my class managed to get our Postmodern Writing deadline shifted five days. Hurrah!
- I spent the evening with Meg today as she's heading back to university at the end of this week and sadly won't be back before I go off to Eastern Europe. We just lazed around eating chicken caeser salad and watching Kirstie & Phil's Where Best To Invest. Sadly, found that I still rather fancied Phil, despite his receeding hairline and speech impediment. She also brought me a belated Christmas present, My So-Called Life on DVD as I never watched it at the time. Hurrah!

I was rather dismayed to discover that out of all the London boroughs, the place that Kirstie and Phil deemed to be the best area for investment was...

Elephant & Castle. Kirstie and Phil have obviously never set foot in Elephant & Castle. They've never been subjected to the eyesore of the bright-red Elephant & Castle shopping centre. They never had to endure Christmas trips to the Coronet cinema which had a severe rat infestation problem. The only redeeming feature of Elephant & Castle...no, no wait, there isn't one.*

Answers for yesterday's Pop Quiz:

One // "Ain't no headlights on the road tonight / Ain't nobody here to make it right / 'Cos we couldn't seem to find a way for love to stay / If you had another night to give / I would have another night to live"
Atomic Kitten // Last Goodbye
Two // "I know a girl from a lonely street / Cold as ice-cream but still as sweet"
Blondie // Sunday Girl
Three // "What's my view? / How am I supposed to know? / Write a review / Well, how objective can I be?"
Maximo Park // Apply Some Pressure
Four // "She's got a boyfriend / He drives me round the bend / 'Cos he's twenty-three / He's in the marines / He'd kill me"
McFly // Obviously
Five // "Baby take me high upon a hillside / High up where the stallion meets the sun"
Take That // Could It Be Magic?
Six // "Last night Jackie Chan came around / I played pool with him and we hung out / Mr Miyagi and the X-Men called in for a while as well"
Ash // Kung Fu
Seven // "So much for your highbrow Marxist ways / Just use me up and then you walk away"
White Town or Tyler James // Your Woman
Eight // "Running just as fast as we can / Holding onto one another's hands / Trying to get away into the night / And then you put your arms around me and then we tumble to the ground"
Tiffany // I Think We're Alone Now
Nine // "Nina's in the bathroom / She said, 'time to go now' / But leaving, it ain't easy / I've got to let go"
The Strokes // New York City Cops
Ten // "Only when I'm dancing can I feel this free / At night I lock the doors so no-one else can see"
Madonna // Into The Groove

I hereby crown Spike the Pop Quiz King. Hoorah!

Anyway, it is well past my bedtime gentle readers but when has that ever stopped me? I'm going to have a piece of toast and wait for the Girls Aloud: Off The Record repeat to come on.

*For those of you who are interested, Kirstie & Phil's Top Ten Places To Invest (see, everyone's got listmania!) were: Manchester, Leeds, Bristol, Belfast, Reading, Southampton, Brighton, Edinburgh, Cambridge and Oxford.

"you've got it all wrong / you think you're chocolate but you're chewing gum"

2006-04-24T23:09:00.000Z

Today's entry is bought to you by the sounds of what many in the meeja have dubbed 'the Norwiegian Kylie.' (If you think about this really hard, you head may explode.)

Besides, the fabulous Annie is nothing like Kylie, she's really more like Sophie Ellis-Bextor left in the Antarctic with a Casio keyboard. If you haven't already heard what was arguably one of the pop anthems of the year, then go forth and seek thee out Chewing Gum. Here's a few reasons why:

- Annie uses the timeless pop metaphor of boys = confectionery (see also: Mandy Moore, Candy) but it's not any old metaphor, it is also a gigantic pop put-down that we have not seen the like of since The Great Daphne & Celeste Diss-O-Rama of 2000.
- Annie is a regular collaborator of the mighty Richard X.
- Me Plus One from her album, Anniemal (do you see what she's done there? Eh?) is a track about that time that Geri Halliwell locked herself in a car because Richard X refused to give her one of his tracks. Sample lyric: "Now this wannabe senorita met a group of likely girls / Traded posters and the voxpops for jetting around the world / But it didn't make her happy and now she flies alone / The wrong pictures in the paper and no-one at home."
- She's from Norway. 'Nuff said.

I've messed up my body clock yet again. I was up until 4am last night writing my dissertation and luckily, my Television & Cultural Change lecture doesn't start until 2pm, so I managed to get near enough a full night's sleep. However, upon being collected by Sarah for our lecture, we decided that our time would be much more profitably spent by going shopping at nearby Gallion's Reach. There's something of the Pirates of the Caribbean about the name isn't there? Unfortunately, it isn't a pirate themed retail park and the only thing it reeks of is the nearby sewage works. You can see why we chose a trip to Gallion's Reach over a lecture on Jamie Oliver can't you?

So, not such a good start after my Easter break but I think that my amazing new Minnie Mouse shoes more than make up for my slacker-dom:

Amongst my other bargainious purchases of the day was a copy of Almost Famous (a contender for All Time Top Five...Coming of Age Movies) which was retailing at a thriftastic £2.89 and also a cut price Easter egg. In fact, I have been merrily scarfing chocolate that is slightly past it's Best Before date (and also, rather disconcertingly, pieces of foil too. It's like an electrical storm in my mouth today) that I can't face dinner.

I was meant to have a draft version of my dissertation ready this week so that my supervisor could read over it. This, however, was a rather optimistic plan and in retrospect, I was somewhat naive to think that my 10 Day Plan of 1000 words a day meant that I could get it done in time. The word count currently stands at 4,500 and I've only managed to discuss a fraction of the texts that I intended to. Le sigh. As you can probably tell gentle readers, I would far rather not think about such trivial matters and instead devote my precious time to the Da Vinci Code Quest! I'm sure it is the same for most girls, but god damn it, I cannot get enough of Tom Hanks with his sex-attacker hair extensions! I was doing quite well on the quest until I got to the second Sudoku symbols quiz and it was at that point that I promptly gave up and devoted an hour to dissecting Take That's Pray video with Megs instead. I rather find the idea of Howard Donald being told to writhe lavciviously in a fountain of oil by a director with artistic pretensions rather amusing. Observe:

I was re-reading my old diary last night and just absolutely cringing at the writing. First off, I have no idea why I abandoned upper-case letters, I did that terrible faux-emo thing of writing all in lower-case letters and squashing words together ("thankyouverymuch"). Plus, it was seemingly light on the content front, observe my entry from the 19th June 2001:

"tum tiddly pom.

i'd like to have simon callow as a tum-tum-tiddly-om-pom-pom kinda uncle, y'know?"

Goodness me, I'm surprised that anybody read it at all. So, apologies to old readers for inflicting that terrible adolescent dribble on you, I hope that reading my old diary didn't burn your eyes right out of your sockets. I guess it's not really that bad, just typical of all the other 17 year-old internet diarists but it's much like when you see pictures of yourself and you think, "what on Earth was I thinking?? Oversized Gap jumpers teamed with a fisherman's hat?!" Anyway, one thing I was reminded of was the sporadic Pop Quizzes that I posed and in tribute to my Diaryland diary and also because there is no-one on MSN to distract me from work, I present to you dear readers, my infamous Pop Quiz...

One // "Ain't no headlights on the road tonight / Ain't nobody here to make it right / 'Cos we couldn't seem to find a way for love to stay / If you had another night to give / I would have another night to live"
Two // "I know a girl from a lonely street / Cold as ice-cream but still as sweet"
Three // "What's my view? / How am I supposed to know? / Write a review / Well, how objective can I be?"
Four // "She's got a boyfriend / He drives me round the bend / 'Cos he's twenty-three / He's in the marines / He'd kill me"
Five // "Baby take me high upon a hillside / High up where the stallion meets the sun"
Six // "Last night Jackie Chan came around / I played pool with him and we hung out / Mr Miyagi and the X-Men called in for a while as well"
Seven // "So much for your highbrow Marxist ways / Just use me up and then you walk away"
Eight // "Running just as fast as we can / Holding onto one another's hands / Trying to get away into the night / And then you put your arms around me and then we tumble to the ground"
Nine // "Nina's in the bathroom / She said, 'time to go now' / But leaving, it ain't easy / I've got to let go"
Ten // "Only when I'm dancing can I feel this free / At night I lock the doors so no-one else can see"

Answers on the proverbial postcard s'il vous plait mon petit fromages. Merci!

"the radio is playing all the usual / and what's a wonderwall anyway?"

2006-04-23T21:24:00.000Z

Another rainy Sunday, once again summer is tantalisingly dangled in front of our faces only to be snatched away again. Yesterday was such a glorious day, I decided to abandon any thoughts of work and went to meet my dear friend, Lindsey, for lunch. We had already arranged to meet after work in fact, as I had agreed to ferry her to Laura Ashley to pick up a mirror for her flat. However, after a huge lunch and running our errands, we ended up just collapsing on her sofa and spent the evening talking and singing at the top of our lungs to the soundtrack of her youth, which unfortunately entailed a lot of hair-rock, bands with names such as Poison and Slaughter. All of which resulted in me getting home at 1:30am and completely missing my weekly fix of Doctor Who. Thank God for the BBC3 repeat, hurrah!

In tribute to today's inclement weather, I present to you dear readers, my...

All-Time Top Five...Rainy Sunday Anthems
Rainy Sundays are a godsend. They're an excuse to stay curled up in bed all day, preferably watching back to back episodes of DVD boxsets and reading the paper. Beautiful, warm, sunny Sundays make you feel guilty for Sunday laziness. As you lie in bed, there's a little nagging feeling that perhaps you ought to be out frolicking in the park with an M&S lunch (along with the thousands of other Londoners with much the same idea). So you get up and get ready to go by which it's 2pm and the sun has retired, leaving a rather forlorn you, valiantly attempting to eat a chicken pasta salad in a rather chilly, rather blustery patch of grass. So, Rainy Sundays are the guilt-free, diet version of Sunny Sundays if you will. So, go forth and put your favourite Rainy Sunday anthems on and climb back into bed and indulge in some duvet karaoke.

One // Travis Writing To Reach You
Everything about this track screams Rainy Sunday. From the low-frequency hum of the introduction to Fran Healy's melancholy lyrics and vocals. It even namechecks Sunday which gives it that extra boost of Sunday-ness: "Everyday I wake up and it's Sunday." If my memory hasn't been irrevocably damaged by this week's events, I seem to recall a story about Fran Healy writing this song in his unheated flat in Glasgow in the depths of winter and hearing Wonderwall on the radio, decided to steal off with Noel Gallagher's chord progression.

Two // Take That Back For Good
"I guess now it's time for me to give up / I think it's time / Got a picture of you beside me / Got your lipstick marks still on your coffee cup." Dear readers, could these be the Greatest Lyrics That Mention Coffee...EVER?? Listen as the opening chords strum down your hearing canal much as rain courses down your window! Feel the raw emotion as Gary Barlow's heart breaks into a thousand little pieces! Mourn the last rattling breath of the Greatest Boy Band that ever were. (And please try to refrain from laughing at Howard Donald's unfortunate sartorial choice of deer-stalker hat and dreadlocks.)

Three // Oasis Half The World Away
Noel Gallagher's finest moment I think, this is as stately and elegant as Oasis will ever get I think. This is tea and nostalgia rolled up into a pop song: "So here I go, I'm still scratching around in the same old hole / My body feels young but my mind is very old." But instead of sitting and wondering 'what if?', sit down and immerse yourself in 4 minutes and 23 seconds of the Gallagher's finest moment with a mellotron.

Four // Natalie Imbruglia Torn
For what it's worth, I think that Natalie Imbruglia is rather underrated. Just listen to her voice...it is by turns warm and heartbreaking and treacle-y and vunerable. As many will delight in telling you, this is actually a cover and the track was originally by some EuroChick but it doesn't matter because you have the definitive version right in front of you. Ignore the somewhat risque lyrics about lying naked on the floor, ignore the rather dishy (objectively speaking) Jeremy Sheffield as love-rat/interest in the video. I find that this goes down best with the volume turned up to 10 (or to 11 if you're that way inclined), duvet wrapped around you and bellow along as loud as your neighbours can stand it. If you're feeling energetic, you can even engage in some of the pixie-esque dancing that Natalie exhibits in the video.

Five // Michael Buble Home
This seems to be on permanent rotation on Heart FM along with S Club's Never Had A Dream Come True. If there is any radio station that is the epitome of Sunday-ness, surely it's Heart FM with it's easy-listening playlist and radio DJs headhunted straight from Watford FM. Anyway, I must admit that I do have a weak spot for Heart, especially when I'm driving home late at night and I know, I know that Michael Buble is kind of skidding towards the precipice of the Kingdom of Blunt (it's a slippery slope and an even more slippery metaphor) but I just can't seem to be able to resist country-tinged ditties.

Other tracks that were considered for today's list were: "2 Hearts", Sugababes; "Holding On For You", Liberty X; "Blame It On The Weatherman", B*Witched; "Other Side Of The World", KT Tunstall; "I'll See It Through", Texas; "La Vie En Rose", Louis Armstrong; "Eleanor Rigby", The Beatles and "Song For The Leftovers" A Camp (which was actually left out because of it's inclusion on All Time Top Five...Songs About One Night Stands, which is where it really rightfully belongs.)

Well, what with only waking up at 1pm, going out to Millets in order to acquire my coveted Cath Kidston sleeping bag and trying to cook dinner in time for the Doctor Who repeat, I haven't even managed to finish reading the last 40 pages of Bluebeard by Kurt Vonnegut. So, a proper entry to come gentle readers, along with the Doctor Who review (with 10% extra All New Tennant Adoration included!)

"i drink a lot of wine when i am alone / i lose my track of time, my ideas turn to stone"

2006-04-21T14:34:00.000Z

So, last night was a reminder of why I'm not that keen on drinking. Up until yesterday, I was quite proud to declare that I've never been ill whilst drunk. I know that it's a familiar adage of the hungover but I'm serious, I'm never drinking again. Apart from the fact that I feel incredibly unsafe trying to get home at night in London at the best of times, try doing it whilst drunk, with sleazy men accosting you on every street corner; pushy illegal cab drivers and the horrors of night buses. I just remember that every minute whilst I was fall-down-flat drunk last night, I kept on thinking, "God, I hate this feeling" and then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening harassing bar staff for tap water every half an hour in a desperate attempt to sober up. It got to the point where the bartender didn't even need to ask, upon sighting me staggering towards the bar, a fresh glass of tap water was instantly produced.

Not only am I incredibly ashamed at my behaviour last night (goodness knows why I was attempting to persuade two middle-aged suits, one of which looked like the love child of Greggles of Quizmania and Brian from The League of Gentlemen, to go to the Waxy Little Sister in Soho) but extremely angry at the way a lot of men don't seem to understand how daunting young women find travelling home late at night. So boys, a couple of tips for you:

- If you are a cab driver, don't get all pissy when a potential fare asks to see your licence. Certainly don't find said potential fare later when they've found a more suitable cab and aggressively confront her about whether she thinks that he is capable of rape.
- I know a lot of men get annoyed about the way women get suspicious of any man walking behind them at night. It's not a personal thing, it's not that you have a shifty way about you. It's just fact, it is scary walking home alone, at night only to hear footsteps behind you. So do us a favour and cross the road. It's just a little thing that saves both of us a lot of worry.
- It should be common sense but judging from friends' and my own experience, grabbing is just a terrible idea. In fact, physical contact of any sort, no matter how jokey or charming you think you are being, is not endearing that total stranger at the bus stop to you.

Another thing I hate about getting drunk - I'm not one of those people who can fall asleep as soon as their head touches the pillow when drunk. I spent most of last night wide awake, head pounding, mouth arid and burning chest, worrying incessantly about whether to call in sick at work today (which as you can judge by the timing of this entry, I did) and whether I would possibly die in the night if I slept on my front. I finally dropped off at 4am after drinking half a litre of water and taking some ibuprofen, only to wake at 7:30am with my cat asleep on my face. Not to mention the rude interruption at around 6am when Sarah turned over and flung her leg violently into my face. And then stole the covers. At 7:30am, I gave up on the prospect of sleeping properly and started doing the laundry and went out to the newsagents to buy some bacon. Ah the wonder of television, I remember watching Brainiac a few weeks ago (partly because I have an embarassing crush on the diminuative Richard Hammond) and they were testing out hangover cures. In my sleep-deprived brain, I managed to dreg up some of the results of this test. The group who had a greasy breakfast and sugary drinks were the ones who perked up the most, the sugar gives your body a quick boost of energy and the reason for the post-drinking craving for junk food is to replace all the salt lost in your body when you've been drinking. Finally, a reason to justify my television addiction.

Anyway, on to cheerier (well, marginally) fare. It seems that listmania is taking over the PopJustice Forums with two of the recent topics being Songs That Could Be About Domestic Violence and Best Break-Up Song. I would tackle the domestic violence one but unfortunately I can only think of a few (Thank You by Jamelia and I'm sure that Christina Aguilera has probably got one in her repetoire as well. I was going to suggest Where The Wild Roses Grow by Nick Cave and Kylie but that's not so much about domestic violence as a murder ballad.) So, instead, I'm going to go for the less taxing option...

All Time Top ~~Five~~ Ten...Break-Up Songs

Ah, heartbreak, a staple of pop music. Where to start? Should the list be split between the immediate-post-break-up ballad or the two-week-epiphany angry grrl stomper? I decided to steer clear of the more obvious candidates such as any Mariah Carey track or Kelis' debut, Caught Out There (known by many, to my chagrin, as I Hate You So Much Right Now) With such a vast swathe of heartbreak ripping its way through pop music, I decided that a trawl through my iTunes was needed to inspire me. And then I remembered that generally my lists tend to include Girls Aloud if at all possible, so that was a good a place to start as any. However, five was just too restrictive, I couldn't do it. So I present to you dear readers, my All Time Top Ten Break Up Songs, where heartbreak never sounded so good.

One // Girls Aloud - Whole Lotta History
A track that many proclaim to be the modern day incarnation of All Saints' Never Ever but that's a somewhat erroneous description. Yes, they're both slinky pop classics about break-ups, they both have talky bits at the beginning and they both employ the heartache/girl group harmony combo but unsurprisingly, I think that the Girls Aloud track is far far superior. For one thing, it has a fabulous video (the amazingness of which is only added to by Nicola's surly response to her shots, "It's just not good") and for another, it has lyrics that don't quite make sense, yet you still understand what it's trying to get at. Sample: "I'm falling all around when you miss me." Also, any song that sounds like it could be the soundtrack to the last dance at a prom immediately garners my devotion. Who hasn't gone through that feeling of bewilderment and inferiority on discovering that an ex has a new girl?

Two // A Camp - I Can Buy You
As Xander in his infinate wisdom comments, "I'm just gonna go home, lie down and listen to country music. The music of pain." A Camp, for the uninitiated, is the solo project of Nina Persson, lead singer of The Cardigans. It doesn't really have anything in common with the more straightforward indie pop sensibility of The Cardigans. The A Camp album was produced by Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse and takes a diversion towards the wilds of country music with a little electro thrown in. I can't remember how I discovered this track but I just remember immediately falling in love with it and then forcing it on everyone in an attempt to convert the masses. It only worked on one person and it's inextricably associated with this person in my mind now which only adds to the wistful melancholy of the song: "A life of sanity and dignity you know it takes two / And what's the use of being a millionaire if I can't have you?"

Three // Romeo - Basement Jaxx feat. Kele le Roc
I would like to put forward a suggestion that the rightful successor to the Gloria Gaynor disco-heartbreak throne is this track. Okay, so it's not disco as we know it, no kitschy wah-wah guitars but it's infectiously danceable (especially the Magnificent Romeo remix, found on the The Singles (Special Edition) which boasts a giant bassline and a Spiller-esque drum introduction.) I included this on a break-up CD for a friend of mine because it's just so joyous, I wanted to let her know that as horrible as she felt at the moment, it would get better and unfeasible as it seems at the time, she would be able to carry on: "'Cos you left me laying there with a broken heart / Staring through a deep cold void alone in the dark / And I miss your warmth in the morning / And the laughter when I can't stop yawning / Cos the tears on the pillow have dried my dear / Gonna let it all go cos I have no fear."

Four // Gone - Kelly Clarkson
Ah, the obligatory angry-grrl entry on the list. As Kelis has been barred from the list, I turned to nearest angry popstrel, the lovely Kelly Clarkson. Breakaway offers a wealth of heartbreak songs, Since U Been Gone is disqualified due to it's lyrical similarity to Romeo and other break-up songs of the I-Will-Survive ilk. I was quite perturbed to find Because of You on many a Ultimate-Best-Romantic-Love-Song...EVER! type compilation. As any fool knows, Because of You is a song about parental divorce. What better way of saying, "I love you" than with a little marital complications? Anyway, getting back to Gone - it fills the criteria of angry-grrl break-up song merely on the basis of the extremely shouty chorus. But even better is the almost gleeful spitefulness of the lyrics: "There is nothing you can say / Sorry doesn't cut it babe / Take the hit and walk away / Cos I'm gone."

Five // Nothing Good About This Goodbye - Rachel Stevens
Ah which version to choose. This track was originally recorded by the lovely Alexis Strum and as much as I worship at the Altar of Strum, La Stevens just pips her to the post. There is something about Rachel Steven's emotionless delivery that suits the track, much in the same way that her vocally-vacant style suited the Richard X produced Some Girls, a track about ruthless wannabe popstrels who will do anything for fame. Also, the inclusion of a Natalie Imbruglia-esque guitar middle 8 means that Rachel's version just wins over Alexis's original. It is also possibly one of the most catchy and immediate pop songs that I have heard in years. I cannot implore you enough, gentle readers, to track this lost pop gem down. In fact, abandon reading the rest of this entry and go and find the song, it is that good.

Six // Emotions - Destiny's Child
Not only does this song appear on my All Time Top Five...Songs To Fall Asleep To but now it makes it onto my All Time Top Five...Break-Up Songs. Perhaps not one of Destiny's Child's better known tracks, I think it is possibly my favourite Destiny's Child song. I just adore the lush, swooping harmonies that accompany a uncharacteristically restrained performance from diva du jour, Beyonce.

Seven // Crazy For You - Madonna
I am a little too young for this song to be the soundtrack to adolescent heartache but it's inclusion in 13 Going On 30 reminds me why it is the ultimate song for teenagers, in the throes of hormonal angst, to listen to on repeat whilst clutching a tear-stained-sateen-heart-shaped cushion to their chests.

Eight // I Want You Back - Jackson 5
Ah, a sub-genre in the break-up song, the song that begs and pleads forgiveness from the beloved ex. This has been included for much for the same reasons as Romeo's inclusion on the list, the sheer danceability factor and the roaring joyfulness of the track. I don't know any girl that doesn't abandon her coveted spot on the obligatory battered leather sofas that have populated clubland in order dance around, arms aloft in the air, to this song.

Nine // Ace Reject - Sugababes
Ah, the Sugababes are connoisseurs of the break-up song, their songs run the spectrum from teenage heartache (New Year, "I'm older than my years / drowning in my tears / surrounded by the fears / since you went away a year ago / at Christmas") to the very moment that things fall apart (Conversation's Over, "I've found the strength to finally say it / what the walls have heard a thousand times") back around to declarations of independence (Hole In The Head 'Eleven hours on a brand new day / I'm getting ready to go out and play / it's late at night and I'm caught in a groove / I'll kiss my ass before I'm feeling blue") However, I have to choose Ace Reject simply because it is the best track that the Sugababes have produced. FACT. (Yes, I am even choosing it over the Sugababes V1.0 material.) It's not the most immediate of their tracks and it's not what you'd really expect of a Sugababes/Xenomania collaboration (i.e. not a massive electro-pop stomper). After a couple of listens however, it just becomes lodged in your brain and refuses to leave. It just captures perfectly the messiness of a break-up: "We break up and make it up / back and forth we never stop / everytime a change of heart / I can't keep up / When you say yes then I say no / When it turns hot we make it cold / There's still something bonding our souls together."

Ten // You Don't Have To Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield
Ah, there's nothing like a good old fashioned torch song and as far as I'm concerned, no-one does it better than Dusty. This is just an epic, monster of a torch song, right from the start with the horns and the near apocalyptic sounding backing vocalists and then...Dusty comes in. She may start off sounding fragile and cracked but the sheer desperation of her pleas at the end of the song, "You don't have to stay forever, believe me, believe me, believe me" is enough to crack the hardest of hearts. What is more heartbreaking than unrequited love?

Phew. Well, as revived as I was when I started this entry, I find that being unfailingly enthusiastic about pop music has drained me of any new-found energy. I believe it is time for another bacon sandwich. I would be delighted to hear any suggestions for entries on today's All Time Top Five and also suggestions for a category for next week. As per usual, suggestions on a postcard please.

"hello, did you call me? / i thought it didn't matter that you're gone"

2006-04-19T21:16:00.000Z

I am a terrible, terrible friend. I have been trying to think of an excuse to get myself out of birthday celebrations tomorrow. I fear that the Wretched Dissertation is not a good enough excuse (well, nothing bar illness is really a good enough excuse and I can't quite bring myself to lie). It also makes me worry a little that I'm developing anti-social tendancies. I was discussing this earlier with Sarah, that the whole clubbing scene has lost its sheen for us. I'm not sure whether it's premature middle-aged-dom or it's just that I've never been that big on drinking anyway.

Judging from the entries in the Belarusian Movie Poster quiz I posed yesterday, you, my dear readers, know your Cyrillic alphabet. But for those of you who just couldn't get past the likeness that Jim Carrey poses to Cain Dingle in the first poster, here are the answers:

I was rather puzzled by this poster actually. There is no promotional poster for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that bears a resemblance to the Belarusian version, so consider yourselves lucky, gentle readers, that you are in the midst of an exclusive. Also, as Stepford Tart points out, "The first one has got Jim Carrey in it (but I'm not sure why his face is blue)." Indeed.

I'm not too sure how La Lohan (or Jamie Lee Curtis for that matter) would react to their Belarusian likeness. Looking at the answers, it ranges from "manic looking women" to "Marilyn Manson and the skinnier girl from the Human League". I must agree with Stepford Tart that they do bear a passing resemblance to a Human League tribute band. Not least because Lindsey Lohan seems to have developed a 5 o'clock shadow in the Belarusian poster and could very well pass as Phil Oakey. And finally...

It really is a tribute to the artistic talent of the Belarusians that the only likeness they can seemingly capture is the monkey-man formerly known as Adam Sandler. Yes, the man whose face you can render with any amount of wonkiness or distortion and it still looks like Adam Sandler. Unfortunately, Drew Barrymore does not benefit from a somewhat abstract treatment. I don't know about you, but I especially like how her right eye is where her left eyebrow is. Not to mention that her head has been transplanted onto the body of a Ukranian housewife.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that little quiz my lovely readers. And we do in fact have a winner...

..Stuart! Bow down before him for his knowledge of Eastern European film art is unrivalled.

And speaking of distorted faces, here's another handy procrastination-aid that I discovered last night courtesy of Gia, the St Andrew's Face Morpher. Unfortunately, it is not so named because St. Andrew developed it in between courses at the Last Supper but rather because it was developed at St. Andrew's University. If you do have a spare half-hour and have always wondered what you would look like as a white girl, then definately investigate. (It seemingly only works in IE or Firefox, so Safari users, you'll have to switch over to the dark side temporarily. Thankyou.)

So I started out like this:

So, first up I tried out the different race options, we've got Afro-Caribbean and Caucasian here. I think I look scarily like Malorie Blackman in the Afro-Caribbean picture. And suffice to say, I don't make an attractive white girl, there's something disturbingly glassy-eyed about my Caucasian-doppleganger.

Next up, a foray into time with a babyfied version of me and an elderly version. Can I just state that I did not look like a Roswell-reject as a child and was in fact, exceedingly cute. It also seems that I am fated to morph into my father as I grow older.

And finally, my personal favourites, the artistic morphs. From left to right we have: Botticelli, Mucha and Modigliani. I'm not sure how the Botticelli morph works but it doesn't seem to be compatible with my face. That is not a face that could be seen rising, Venus-like out of the sea. The Modigliani one is, far and away, my favourite if only for how much it does look like a Modigliani, have a look at Madame Pompadour and you can see how good the likeness is.

I'd actually quite like to wander around South London with the face of a Modigliani. I could become an urban legend, something I feel that Peckham lacks. I mean, Camberwell has its White Woman, which is definately not an urban legend as I saw her wandering along Camberwell Church Street about 6 years ago. For those of you who aren't familiar with the story (that'll be most of you then...), the White Woman of Camberwell is a black lady who paints herself plaster white, from every hair on her head to her toes. The legend is that she paints herself white because she got raped by a black man and ever since then, has painted herself white. At the time when I heard this story from my 14-year old schoolmates, it sounded plausible. However, now on reflection, I think she's probably just a local eccentric (knowing Camberwell).

Anyway, speaking of myths and legends, I had better get back to Bluebeard and the Wretched Dissertation. Pip pip.

"number five with a bullet"

2006-04-18T20:43:00.000Z

Today has been a disasterously unproductive day, no work has been done at all and it's 8:34pm now. I've spent all day in bed watching films (which ordinarily is no bad thing but when you've got 5 days to write 7,500 words, it's an entirely different matter). Anyway, I decided I wanted the cinematic equivalent of comfort food, gooey, stodgy and sweet, when I was in the midst of my little breakdown the other day. I decided that there was nothing for it, I needed Hugh Grant's crab-dancing in Love Actually.

Anyway, this obviously sent me flying off the work-wagon and onto the romcom wagon. I seem to have had trouble sleeping recently and I've had to resort to watching films at night to get me to sleep and sure enough, 40 minutes in (every time, I swear) I drop off. Last night's screening was High Fidelity as it has been long overdue a repeat showing. I finished watching it today (and also continued junking out on Hitch) and it reminded me that it's been a while since I've played All Time Top Five.... Now, usually this is a game you play with two people. Myself and Lawrence started playing this whilst bored at work a few summers ago and it becomes highly addictive. We found that as time wore on, we started running out of credible categories which meant resorting to lists such as "All Time Top Five...Condiments". Unfortunately, I have no-one at present to play All Time Top Five... with, so you, gentle readers, will have to suffice for now. Inspired by my recent spate of romcoms, the category is...

All Time Top Five...Scenes In Films That Make Me A Bit Wobbly

One High Fidelity // "All Time Top Five Things I Miss About Laura..."
Let's start off from the source and the inspiration for this particular list. This scene takes place around the middle of the film and it's when Rob comes to the realisation that he does miss Laura and wants her back. I can't explain why I love this scene so much, I think it's mainly in John Cusack's delivery of the lines and the kind of comforting intimacy that he conveys.

Two Amelie // Copycat Kisses
I'm aware that quite a few people find this film a little too whimsical and fey but this definately makes it into my All Time Top Five...Films (Ever). The scene I'm referring to is at the end of the film when Nino finds Amelie in her apartment and she plants a trail of kisses across his face and neck and he kisses her back in exactly the same places. It's just achingly tender and fits the tone of the film perfectly.

Three Love Actually // Flashcard Declaration
Richard Curtis is so often criticised for his portrayal of chocolate-box London and his saccharine writing and I agree and I'm sure he too is aware of his limitations as a writer. But it is too easy to criticise Curtis and the whole genre in general and if you take it for what it is, Curtis's scripts are some of the best of the genre. Love Actually is perhaps simultaneously his best and worst, it's too ambitious and falls flat in some places but when it goes right, as in the case of the Hugh Grant/Martine McCutcheon, Alan Rickman/Emma Thompson and Laura Linney/Rodrigo Santoro storylines, it's perfect escapist entertainment. However, the entry for Love Actually involves the triangle between Juliet, Peter and Mark and the moment when Mark turns up on Juliet's doorstep, equipped with a stereo and an armful of written declarations of unrequited love. It's classic Curtis: heartbreaking, bittersweet and witty in equal measures.

Four Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind // PJs & Cowboys
Yet another film that would make it into my All Time Top Five...Films (Ever) list. It's difficult to choose a scene from this film because much like a distant dream, it all blurs into one fuzzy memory. The scene that sticks out for me most is the scene in which Joel regresses back to his childhood memories in an effort to 'hide' Clementine from the erasing process. It's been a while since I've seen the film but I remember loving the sweet nostalgic feel of this sequence and as it is throughout the film, the cinematography is just gorgeous.

Five Moulin Rouge! // Elephant Love Medley
Finally, a completely overblown entry in the list. I imagine that people either adore or despise Baz Luhrmann's work, particularly the incredibly camp and epic Moulin Rouge!. About half an hour from the end of the film, I start crying and I don't stop until the end but the scene that makes it into the list is one from the beginning of the film. Christian scales a giant elephant in the courtyard of the Moulin Rouge (bear with me here...) and proceeds to serenade Satine (in Ewan's enthusiastic but bland tones) with a medley of 20th century love songs. Ah Ewan, you had me from, "My gift is my song..."

Whilst I was writing this entry, I went onto Google Images to try and find the above picture of Hugh Grant doing his legendary sideways dance. Interestingly, one of the results was this:

This, gentle readers, is the Belarusian poster for Love Actually. Quite why Martine McCutcheon is dressed like Pauline Fowler and Hugh Grant has grown an afro is beyond me. So, a little quiz for you, what movies are these Belarusian posters advertising?

Answers on a postcard please and all shall be revealed in the next entry.

"someone is speaking but she doesn't know he's there"

2006-04-17T18:11:00.000Z

I was taking a little break from writing last night and I started looking back through my photographs from Paris. Well, strictly speaking they're not mine because my beloved APS Ixus chewed up my film so I've had to steal off with Sarah's photos instead. It turned out to be just what I needed, I think that Paris in January was the last time I felt happy and unencumbered with the daily weight of my life at the moment and knowing that in a matter of weeks, it'll all be over (bar the pesky NATFHE strikes but that is a diatribe for another day...) and in 43 days, I'm off with my Dearest Ones on a jaunt around the Eastern corner of our great continent (although I read about the Danube overflowing in the Balkans yesterday, so we'll see...)

So, today's word count so far stands at 2382 and I'm aiming to hit 3000 at least today as I'm slightly off schedule. All writing has halted to a stop as I've suddenly realised that I have no knowledge of feminist literary criticism and that a little reading is in order. I'm also trying to navigate my way through the wedge of a book that is Christopher Booker's The Seven Basic Plots which on the surface sounds fascinating but I fear is rather dull deep down.

During my perambulations around the Internet last night in an effort to distract myself from writing, I discovered this little widget called a Musicube. (If everyone will look to the right, they will see the Musicube in it's natural habitat along with all the other Internet accoutrements of a blog sidebar) I'm aware of a lot of people's vitriol towards Radio 1 (even the mighty Popjustice) but I must admit I have rather a soft spot for it. I find that increasingly I listen to it in the mornings and afternoons when I get in from work or university. Not to mention my rabid support of Public Service Broadcasting endears Radio 1 to me much more than the mindless droning of Capital Radio or some such other station. I find myself making an exception for XFM on a Saturday whilst driving home from work as I do quite like Adam & Joe's brand of student humour. Anyway, I've grown fond of the little Musicube, it's a little like a pet, sitting in the corner and making rather a lot of noise.

Apologies, for a rather dull entry, the cabin fever must have taken root.

"if I were a painter / i would paint my reverie"

2006-04-16T21:54:00.000Z

Happy Easter gentle readers. I sincerely hope you had a better Easter Sunday than I did. Not only was there a dearth of quality televisual entertainment (where have the 2pm e4 Popworld repeats gone? Am very aggrieved at missing Simon & Miquita's last episode before Hateful Zane and Unknown Chung take over) but I also had a huge row with my father, which is an incredibly rare occurance. Needless to say, in true tortured adolescent fashion, I have taken to my room and brooded whilst listening to the only soothing thing I could find on my iTunes, the Norah Jones album. Unforunately it doesn't really seem to be doing the trick but I can't seem to summon up the energy to care. It's getting to that point where rightous anger gives way to shame at having behaved so dreadfully, mixed with impertinent pride. Still, there's a little stubborn angel on my shoulder who bristles and crackles with anger at the futility of trying to be straightforward and upfront only to find it backfiring and becoming an argument about something else entirely. The feeling isn't entirely dissimilar (I imagine) to driving headfirst into a brick wall.

Anyway, I take my leave in order to spare you my Dear Readers of any more typical LJ-style emo angst. I can barely tolerate it myself so I imagine you must be feeling ready to beat yourself about the head with your own arm. I have spent today reading yet another substandard novel for the Cursed Dissertation, Bluebeard's Room by Emma Cave. As regular readers may have surmised, this girl has no objections to pulpish entertainments but even this was below my standards. Anyway, it is 10:13pm and the grand today of 0 words has been written so far. I fear that my daily target of 1000 words will not be met today. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.

"Yep...I've still got it"

2006-04-15T22:45:00.000Z

Oh me, oh my. I think I need a glass of cold water. If there's anything that is guaranteed to bring the fangirl out in me, it's a handsome man in a suit and glasses, travelling the length and breadth of space and time. (That said, it doesn't take much to awaken the dormant fangirl in me.) I don't know about you gentle viewers, but I thoroughly enjoyed New Earth tonight, not to mention Doctor Who Confidential narrated by lovely Mark Gatiss.

I must confess that I was rather cold to the charms of Russell T Davies prior to tonight's episode but that 45 minutes of television has melted any indifference to RTD that I might have harboured. Not since the (short-lived) heyday of Firefly have I fallen so completely, head-over-heels for a 'verse.

An ameteurish, gushing dissection of tonight's episode follows:

- I take back any disparaging comments I might have made regarding Billie's acting in the past, She gives good smoulder.
- Oh my, RTD did spoil the 'shippers tonight didn't he?: the "first date" reference; "hormone-city!"; references to "new" and "unused" parts and not to mention the much-publicised kiss between Rose and the Doctor. My she did have a firm grip on his head didn't she?
- Scary, funny and exciting in equal measures it may have been, I did find the human-farm/Matrix premise a little tired.
- But I can forgive that low-point just for:
- "Applegrass!"
- Rose jumping up and down squealing "ground!" amused me no end.
- I will never look at a samba in the same way ever again. I wasn't sure whether to laugh uproariously or hide behind the sofa.
- More hide-behind-the-sofa moments arose every time the word "chav" was uttered onscreen. I'm sure that at the time of writing, this might have been amusing but a year down the line, it just grated. In future please leave flippant pop culture references to the Mighty Whedon.
- It appears that the hardcore contingent found the Rose/Cassandra bodyswap tedious but I cannot resist a good old paranormal (is there any other kind??) bodyswap. (See also: BtVS, Tabula Rasa)
- I imagine that the "it's like being in a bouncy castle" comment engaged the attention of a significant proportion of the male audience...
-...much as the disinfectant scene did for the majority of the female audience.
- Is it just me or does Zoe Wanamaker look suspiciously...well?

Needless to say, I am very much looking forward to next week's episode. Mainly due to the werewolves and Scottish accents, woof! Having seen the preview, I am just glad that Oz' werewolf costume has not been recycled and the BBC have put our money to good use with some lovely CGI. (Note to self: must stop comparing Doctor Who and Buffy.)

In other news: I have finally gotten around to eating the Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes and they are luscious. Best of all, not only are they seductively moist but incredibly messy and for me, that is the benchmark of good cake. I have already scarfed two today and I fear this figure will rise as the weekend progresses as I continue writing my dissertation (988 words and counting...)

Work was deathly dull today and I still cannot figure out whether She Who Does Not Speak is chronically shy, devoid of a personality or simply hates me. I tried to engage her in a bonding session today by bitching about a rude customer that she had encountered and I got the cold shoulder.

My lovely, shiny new 1GB memory card was waiting on my doormat when I arrived home from work. Get ready for some more macro-lens action:

And finally: Even though I know it's incredibly wrong, I am becoming increasingly fond of that awful From Paris to Berlin song. My love for it is neither helped nor hindered by this. (Beware: not for those of a faint disposition or those who have an aversion to half-naked, bearded Irish men.)

"!!!!!!"

2006-04-15T18:39:00.000Z

Once again, to reiterate: !!!!!!!!!
That is all.