He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy

Happy 50th birthday, Benedict Cumberbatch! As I have said before: Magic's come a long way since the days of Tommy Cooper and Paul Daniels...

It's a verrry slow day again today, dear reader. After a mammoth telly-and-film binge (mainly Marvel stuff) at John-John's yesterday [we started at 1pm, and I got home in a taxi at 1am], I didn't even surface today until about 2 o'clock!

At least it's not as searingly hot as it has been of late, so it's quite pleasant to sit out in, and I might, if I feel arsed to, do some pottering in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers.

Meanwhile, some suitable "Sunday music" from our house band is in order, methinks. [The original version of this was used as the theme tune to Peaky Blinders apparently; I wouldn't know, I have never watched it.] .

Postmodern Jukebox feat. Katerina Lomis - Red Right Hand (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds jazz cover)

On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with a red right hand

He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy
He'll rekindle all the dreams it took you a lifetime to destroy
He'll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul
But there won't be a single thing that you can do

Those lyrics bring back memories of cruising grounds of old...

Don't believe me, just watch

I'm off to John-John's today for another "marathon Marvel geek-fest", catching up on bits of the MCU I haven't seen yet, like Wonder Man [above].

Here's something appropriate for the occasion, methinks!

Marvel Uptown Funk

Love it.

Queen of the Night aria?

Gratuitous - but obligatory - Coq Galoise

And so we have crawled, tortuously, to the end of another thrilling working week...

...but in all the - ahem - excitement, I quite forgot that on Tuesday, our leetle Froggy chums were enjoying their biggest day of celebration, Le Quatorze Juillet (or, as it is better known here, Bastille Day)!

To make up for it, who better to start the weekend party celebrations than one of our revered, dearly departed, Gallic Patron Saints, Régine?

Vive le disco, c'est vendredi!

Régine - Reine de la Nuit

Have a great weekend, dear reader!

Nah, Luton Airport!

You know you're getting old when...

...you discover that "Cockney Sparrow" Lorraine Chase is 75 years old today!

She may have been a quiz show regular, she may have been in the soap Emmerdale - but it is for this she will forever be remembered by us Brits:

Campari commercial with Lorraine Chase, 1976

[NB She shares her birthday with a raft of fellow celebrants, including Ginger Rogers, Barbara Stanwyck, Angharad Rees, Sir Joshua Reynolds, John Chilton, Desmond Dekker, Roald Amundsen, Big Breakfast alumnus Johnny Vaughan (who is 60), Corin Redgrave, Michael Flatley, Denise LaSalle, Stewart Copeland of The Police, Frank Field, Will Ferrell, Corey Feldman, and "Lady Edith" in Downton Abbey Laura Carmichael (who is 40). Many happy returns, all!]

Big hair and bagpipe solos would end the Cold War

You're the Voice by John Farnham, and other dangers of rediscovering 80s soft rock

Everyone loves Bonnie Tyler belting out Total Eclipse of the Heart, but Gen Z should be warned that 80s soft rock is not a safe space. These songs are why:

We Don’t Need Another Hero by Tina Turner, 1985
Archetypal soft rock thanks to its dated keyboards, catchy nonsensical hook and being a blockbuster movie tie-in. Tina Turner was in the film, so knew full well their overriding message was that until society is rebuilt you absolutely do need heroes or you’ll be cruelly slaughtered by bastards like Lord Humungus.

You’re the Voice by John Farnham, 1986
‘We’re all someone’s daughter, we’re all someone’s son. How long can we look at each other, down the barrel of a gun?’ sings John, in the typically impassioned plea for peace which made up around 40 per cent of all soft rock lyrics. It was generally accepted that big hair and bagpipe solos would end the Cold War. And eventually, David Hasselhoff did.

We Built This City by Starship, 1985
Musically it’s got every 80s cliché: synth stabs, power chords, boring anthemic chorus. While taking generic lyrics to a new level with pseudo-meaningful bollocks about ‘corporation games’ and the assertion that rock and roll builds cities, which it doesn’t. San Francisco, referenced in the song, was built on maritime trade and the financial sector.

Glory of Love by Peter Cetera, 1986
Pete pours his heart into it but the song is inextricably linked to The Karate Kid Part II, which is largely about a white boy travelling to Japan to kick ass. Colonialism and white American kids beating the natives at their own game are no longer considered the uplifting themes for a movie they once were.

Can’t Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon, 1984
You’re torn between liking the tune and hating everything else: the pompous piano intro, the teenage poetry lyrics, a deeply misjudged video about a baby growing into a middle-aged father and passing on his teddy bear. And singer Kevin Cronin’s 1980s mullet is something to behold. It looks as if he’s wearing an Ewok on his head.

Eye of the Tiger by Survivor, 1982
Weapons-grade cheese, with its highly effective riff and lyrics entirely composed of guff about tigers, being ‘back on the street’ and fighting being a rewarding experience. But went from the Rocky III soundtrack to ubiquity, used everywhere from real boxing matches to Dumb and Dumberer, so the vicarious macho excitement is gone and you may as well be putting on The Smiths.

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News, 1985
Huey and the guys really perfected the art of utterly bland pop rock no-one can object to, the musical equivalent of comfortable socks. However it was written specifically for Back to the Future and since Marty’s girlfriend isn’t in most of the film it should really be called The Power of Your Mum Fancying You. Which today’s porn-addled kids are probably into.

The Daily Mash

Of course.

Of ancient bones (in and out of drag), cat Viagra versus pests, a Hollywood horse, witches' marks and Totty of the Day

RIP, Gilda Love, Spain's centenarian drag queen [Read more]
[click any pic to embiggen]

It's another snippets post, dear reader...

• Would you rather be attacked by mozzies - or cats? news: Scientists have discovered that an extract of common catnip - aka feline Viagra, that sends cats into ecstasy - is as effective at repelling mosquitoes as more expensive products, such as DEET. Remind me to seek some out for our trip to Amsterdam in August, and to avoid the oversexed toms. [Not!]

• My kingdom for a..? news: A massive Trojan Horse has materialised overnight in Trafalgar Square to mark the launch of Christopher Nolan's latest film The Odyssey. Money talks, it seems.
• I'm not a witch! I'm not a witch! news: A professor of architectural history in her new book has debunked the idea that etched patterns on the stones in medieval buildings are anything more than the mark of the mason(s) or apprentice(s). Not “witches’ marks” or “ritual protection symbols” at all! But does she weigh the same as a duck?

• Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones news: A fossilised skeleton of a 67 million-year-old 12-foot tall Tyrannosaurus rex has been sold for a record £37.4m ($50.1m) at a Sotheby's auction in New York. Where the fuck would you keep a thing like that? On your front lawn?
• And finally: The England football team's star striker during this World Cup has emerged as 23-year-old Jude Bellingham.

  Discuss:

And the weather? Still warm, but the ongoing breezes are taking the edge off. What I call a good summer!

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FOOTNOTE:

So Monday's post finally showed up in the Blogger Reading List - THIRTY-FOUR HOURS after it was posted!

What a bunch of wankers the Google gnomes are.

Mein Gott!

Oh, no! Monday again.

Never mind, eh? A little trawl through the archives here at Dolores Delargo Towers has turned up the perfect wake-up choon for this Tacky Music Monday - from Czechoslovakia's finest export, the late, great Karel Gott (whose birthday it would have been tomorrow), and his safety gays and girls!

Karel Gott - Lady Karneval

Inexplicable, but fun.

Have a good week, dear reader.

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STOP PRESS:

Here we go again...

I posted this at 7.46am. It is now 21.40pm. Still no sign of it in the Reading List!

The Google gnomes are bastards.