Sunday, 18 February 2018

“I just thought someone had slammed a door outside, to be honest.”



Apparently an earthquake of 4.2 magnitude hit Swansea yesterday. Unfortunately the place appears to be still standing.

No doubt it was caused by dear ol' Bonnie Tyler singing in the bath again...


[I have no idea why that semi-naked man is swinging his guitar round his head in this video, but hey ho - that's Our Bonnie for ya!]

Saturday, 17 February 2018

This isn't Soul Train, honey - back it up!



As the Revered Mistress MJ over at Infomaniac has decreed - yesterday having marked the Chinese New Year - we are now in The Year of the Bitch; so that gives me a perfect excuse (as if any were needed) to play an eternal house favourite here at Dolores Delargo Towers...

Take it away, Diva Avari!


I have a feeling this is going to be a good year.

Friday, 16 February 2018

They don't make men like you in our cee-ty



The end of this rather exhausting three weeks' leave is looming; just one weekend of sorting stuff out here at Dolores Delargo Towers, and then...

Stuff that. Let us cast all thoughts of such horrors aside, flick our hair, get our maxi-dresses and feather boas out of the wardrobe - and party along with Spain's finest, the uber-talented Baccara!


Lordy. Is that song really forty years old?

Hey ho. Thank Disco It's Friday!

Thursday, 15 February 2018

From the sublime to...



It seems we missed another couple of bits of news while we were away... Firstly, I just caught up with the fact that after a few years of rather lacklustre stewardship (even David Byrne was a disappointment), the fantabulosa Robert Smith of The Cure will be the curator of this year's (25th) Meltdown Festival at London's Southbank Centre [and all of it, for a change, as the Queen Elizabeth Hall reopens this year after its mammoth refurb]. I haven't been to any of them for five years - since my "Audience with God", in fact - so let's hope that Robert pulls out the stops. I am pitching for Grace Jones this year, and, of course, Siouxsie...


In a far less arty segment of the entertainment microcosm, the UK's tone-deaf have collectively spoken. Well, actually SuRie (for it is she) isn't that bad a performer, and probably deserved to win the nomination to represent the UK at this year's Eurovision Song Contest. The song, however, is somewhat derivative in my opinion. If I were Avicii, I'd sue..!


Regardless of the looming nul points cavalcade that will probably greet this song - the UK is never popular, and even less so in Brexit-battle-hardened Europe - we can start planning our annual costume-heavy party for the occasion, at our brand new venue of Dolores Delargo Towers #4!

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

The memory of all that; no, no they can't take that away from me





Another trouper bites the dust...

Farewell, then, to the man who Frank Sinatra described as having "the best set of pipes in the business" - the fantabulosa Vic Damone, just about the last of the great crooners [only Tony Bennet left now...].

By way of a tribute (and Gershwin being most appropriate for "St Hallmark's Day"), here is the man himself at his showbiz best:


RIP Vito Rocco Farinola (aka Vic Damone, 12th June 1928 - 11th February 2018)

More of Mr Damone here, here and here.

Tuesday, 13 February 2018

Totty of the Day









RIP one of the most gorgeous Hollywood actors ever, famous for his roles in Spartacus, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Imitation of Life and Psycho, John Gavin (born John Anthony Golenor, 8th April 1931 - 9th February 2018)

Monday, 12 February 2018

It begins



We've been busy today (after a very lazy day yesterday to recover from the holiday) - playing "nicey-nicey" with our former landlady to get the bond back on the old place, shopping for a new toilet seat (one of the very first things in a new flat is to replace it; in this case the matter was made rather urgent by the fact that the repair-man who came to fix the the bathroom window vent had actually broken ours off while we were away!), and generally making a start on getting Dolores Delargo Towers #4 into some kind of order - putting up (and filling) the shelves for all our books and our CD collection, emptying bags and boxes, and clearing space for the wardrobes that are due to be delivered tomorrow...

...all this while trying to keep warm in the cold winds and intermittent sleet-showers of North London, and still awaiting a full television service from the shiftless money-grabbers of BT (who left us without internet for a week and, despite offering a cable TV service, apparently require the telly-box to be plugged into a conventional aerial socket as well, which we have no idea if we actually have)!

As our lovely, restful holiday starts fading away in our memories, so, on this Tacky Music Monday we need the services of Analucia's very own uber-diva and gay icon Senorita Rocio Jurado to cheer us up - here performing a couple of video-postcards from our trip!



Sigh.

Sunday, 11 February 2018

I'm not a woman, I'm not a man, I am something that you'll never understand


Despite appearances to the contrary, this is not us in our evening attire on holiday.

We're finally back in the land of the living, dear reader...

Having suffered the slings and arrows of an incredibly busy post-house-move week during which I spent more time at the old place than at Dolores Delargo Towers #4 - cleaning, digging out the garden and generally making good in an effort to ensure we get our deposit/bond back - and during which time the gnomes at Haringey Library decided to block access to this very blog (halfway through me trying to post something, I might add!), and we continued to have no internet access at home, Madam Arcati and I were well overdue a holiday of total and utter relaxation and hedonism in Spain.

Our itinerary was to do absolutely nothing for a week - and we did it to the extreme, sweeties!



Splitting our time between the beach bars of Benalmádena (by day) and the flesh-pots of La Nogilera in Torremolinos (by night), and of course (some) sleep (in our rather glamorous ninth-floor, sea-facing apartment with its huge terrace and all mod cons), we still managed to catch the Elección Drag Queen del Año ("Drag Queen of the Year" election), part of Carnaval Benalmádena 2018 in the old town square, (from whence the picture at the top of this blog originated). [You can check out footage of the event here.]

To be honest, it was a rather underwhelming affair - the contestants all being amateur; and "catwalk-runway-style" lip-synching queens (who can't even lip-synch) not being our style - but we were glad we went along, just to take in the atmosphere. Among the "acts" on stage were a troupe of Kazaky-wannabees calling themselves the "Butch Queens". Needless to say, we do not believe that for moment:



Despite the fact that it was not nearly as sunny nor as warm as we would have liked, we had a lovely time; we were made to feel incredibly welcome by so many people there we've known for years - and we managed to come back with gorgeous tans to boot! - but what did we miss while we were away..?

...not much, by the looks of it, apart from the fact that Northern Europe was hit by a "Big Freeze" of headline-making proportions [not so bad to just be feeling a "little nippy" in Spain, after all, methinks]. Apart from that, it just seems to have been much of the same - mostly the endless Brexit bollocks and "Trump versus everyone". Elsewhere in the news-we-missed, there was a destructive earthquake in Taiwan, some tabloid click-bait scandal about Oxfam charity aid workers using prostitutes, That Rich Twat Elon Musk's rocket/car thing was launched, and the eccentric Hannah Hauxwell (the Yorkshire hill farmer who became an unlikely TV celebrity) died - oh, and London's biggest ever "fatberg" went on show at the Museum of London.

We missed the centenary of women gaining the vote in the UK, and the Pyongyang Winter Olympics opening ceremony with a Shirtless Tongan...



... and we also missed Justin Trousersnake singing a cover of Prince's I Would Die 4 U at the American Super Bowl [a sporting event in a former colony I believe, M'Lud]:


I'm not a woman
I'm not a man
I am something that you'll never understand

I'll never beat you
I'll never lie
And if you're evil I'll forgive you by and by

You, I would die for you, yeah
Darling if you want me to
You, I would die for you

I'm not your lover
I'm not your friend
I am something that you'll never comprehend

No need to worry
No need to cry
I'm your messiah and you're the reason why

'Cause you, I would die for you, yeah
Darling if you want me to
You, I would die for you


We missed the centenaries of (Prime of Miss Jean Brodie author) Muriel Spark and the lovely Ida Lupino, the 70th birthday of Alice Cooper and the 50th birthday of Lisa Marie Presley. And we also missed the opportunity to bid farewell to Dennis Edwards, lead singer of the Temptations - so to make up for that, let's let him and the boys have a little spin around:


Phew.

Is it good to be back in Blighty?

No.