Tuesday, 18 February 2020

Berger King



Sigh. The world of work takes some getting used to again.

To soothe our furrowed brows, how about a little jaunt into the past, to wallow in the glamorous lives of impossibly gorgeous people once again - this time in Swinging London and the Home Counties, it seems - courtesy of the geniuses over at Soft Tempo Lounge..?


That's a bit better.

I had quite forgotten how attractive Helmut Berger was back in his heyday.



[Music: Strollin' Along - Lee Mason and His Orchestra (Pete Moore)
Film: Dorian Gray (1970)]

Monday, 17 February 2020

When I say hit it, I want the big strong Jackie Gleason



I am really spitting feathers today.

After a lovely fortnight of total indulgence - our faboo week in Spain, then a week at home doing bugger all - it's time to drag myself queasily back to that dreariest-of-dreary places, the office.

Groan.

Never mind, eh? Our little gang had one of our irregular regular gatherings on Saturday to mark Madam Arcati's birthday, and among the films we watched was one of his (and my) favourites, John Waters' original Hairspray. So, on this Tacky Music Monday, let's forget the impending tribulations of work for a moment and practice some dance moves.

It's Madison Time!


...and, to add to the uplift, here's the original version, featuring the late Annette Funicello...


Have a good week, peeps. I won't.

Footnote: Speaking of Hairspray, the singer of one of the film's musical numbers [A Town Without Pity] Gene Pitney - sharing a birthday with the likes of Barry Humphries (Dame Edna Everage), Ruth Rendell, Dame Patricia Routledge, Brenda Fricker, Alan Bates, Julia McKenzie, Rory Kinnear, Ed Sheeran, Ron Goodwin, and (erm) Paris Hilton - would have been 80 years old today...

Sunday, 16 February 2020

Ngholl?


Wales is not there anymore.

After a brutal night of hefty winds, Britain woke up to discover that its western chunk had been sheered off and was now tossing in the north Atlantic, 150 miles off the coast of Iceland.

People in Herefordshire were first to realise the principality had been removed when they awoke to find themselves living on the coast.

Martin Bishop, from the village of Clifford, said: “At first I thought my house had been picked up and dumped next to the sea, like some sort of ‘Wizard of Oz’ fantasy that I’m always having.

“I said to my dog, ‘we’re not in Herefordshire anymore, Toto’, but then I realised that Wales wasn’t there.

“At last.”


Bishop’s neighbour, Margaret Gerving, said: “It seems very traumatic at the moment, but it’s for the best.”

Jane Thompson, from Shrewsbury, added: “The A458 is now a road to nowhere. Sorry, the A458 is still a road to nowhere.”

Meanwhile, the government said it was studying a range of options on what to do about Wales and would announce a decision sometime next year.
The Daily Mash

Of course.

[The "real" story.]

*Ngholl = "missing" in Welsh

Saturday, 15 February 2020

A word from our sponsors



I'm washing as we speak.

Friday, 14 February 2020

Hearts and... peanut butter jelly?


[click to embiggen]

Groan. "St Hallmark's Day" is upon us. Cheap bouquets, oversized teddies, Love Island boxed scent'n'shower-gel sets from Savers - all will no doubt be flying off the shelves.

Bollocks to all that, I say - when I go shopping I want THIS to happen!


Thank Disco It's Friday! - and don't bother trying to book a table at Pizza Express...

Thursday, 13 February 2020

Jane plays with Willi, Willi is happy again


A wealth of colour on display at the Orchid Festival at Kew Gardens yesterday

Sharing a birthday as he does with a mish-mash of "names" such as Kim Novak, Stockard Channing, George Segal, Peter Tork, Oliver Reed, Robbie Williams, Jerry Springer, Simon Schama, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Peter Hook of New Order, Joyce DiDonato, Emanuel Ungaro, Kevin Bloody Wilson and Sonia, another of our fave artists Mr Peter Gabriel blows out 70 candles on his cake today.



To my surprise, in almost thirteen years of this very blog, I have never featured the man (nor his extraordinary stage costumes) nor his music before! To make up for that, here are just a few hits from his memorable (and decades-long) back-catalogue - from when he left Genesis in the 1970s to his commercial heyday in the 1980s:




...and my personal fave:


Jeux sans frontières
Jeux sans frontières
Jeux sans frontières

Hans plays with Lottie, Lottie plays with Jane
Jane plays with Willi, Willi is happy again
Suki plays with Leo, Sacha plays with Britt
Adolf builds a bonfire, Enrico plays with it

Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside
Whistling tunes we're kissing baboons in the jungle

It's a knockout

If looks could kill,
They probably will
In games without frontiers
War without tears

Games without frontiers
War without tears

Jeux sans frontières
Jeux sans frontières
Jeux sans frontières

Andre has a red flag, Chiang Ching's is blue
They all have hills to fly them on except for Lin Tai Yu
Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games
Hiding out in tree-tops shouting out rude names

Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside
Whistling tunes we piss on the goons in the jungle

It's a knockout

If looks could kill,
They probably will
In games without frontiers
War without tears

Games without frontiers
War without tears

Jeux sans frontières


Many happy returns, Peter Brian Gabriel (born 13 February 1950)

Wednesday, 12 February 2020

Shooting stars never stop even when they reach the top



We've just got back from a lovely day at Kew Gardens - more on that later, no doubt, once we've had a chance to look at all the photos - but it dawned on me earlier that we had missed a milestone birthday (his 60th!) of one of our favourite artists, the outrageous and ground-breaking Mr Holly Johnson (formerly frontman of Frankie Goes to Hollywood)...







Let us make up for that with a blast from the Frankies in their absolute heyday!


The world is my oyster........
Ha ha ha ha ha........

The animals are winding me up
The jungle call
The jungle call

Who-ha who-ha who-ha who-ha

In Xanadu did Kublai Khan

A pleasuredome erect
Moving on keep moving on-yeah
Moving at one million miles an hour
Using my power
I sent it by the hour
I have it so I'm mocking it
You really can afford it-yeah
Really can afford it

Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top

There goes a supernova
What a pushover-yeah
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

We're a long way from home
Welcome to the Pleasuredome
On our way home
Going home where lovers roam
Long way from home
Welcome to the Pleasuredome

Moving on
Keep moving on

I will give you diamonds by the shower
Love your body even when it's old
Do it just as only I can do it
And never ever doing what I'm told

Keep moving on
Got to reach the top

Don't stop
Pay love and life-oh my
Keep moving on
On again-yeah

Shooting stars never stop
Shooting stars never stop

Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

Who-ha who-ha
Welcome to the Pleasuredome!

Many happy returns, William Holly Johnson (born 9th February 1960)

More Holly here, here, here, here and here.

Tuesday, 11 February 2020

Got up and got out



And so, farewell then, Miss Paula Kelly.

Who? I hear some people ask...



Miss Kelly may not have been a huge household name - indeed, much of her on-screen career was spent in supporting roles in Blacksploitation movies and US telly shows such as Police Woman - but it is for one memorable screen appearance we love her the most: that of the sassy "Helene" in Sweet Charity, more than holding her own alongside the estimable talents of Shirley MacLaine and Chita Rivera in my favourite movie musical number, ever!


Here's the lady herself in a bizarre clip from the Oscars [yes, them again!], in the company of the great Miss Bergman and Mr Poitier...


...and again, with Miss Verdon, Miss McKechnie and Miss Gallagher at the 1973 Tony Awards [did they only ever drag her out for awards ceremonies?]:


A sad loss.

RIP, Paula Kelly (21st October 1943 – 9th February 2020)

Monday, 10 February 2020

Puttin' On the Ritz?


As always, Billy Porter had the best "look" of them all.

We never bother to watch the Oscars here at Dolores Delargo Towers. It's broadcast in the middle of the night in the UK, for one thing, and for another - it's just a boring load of pretentious speeches, frocks, and inevitably wrong nominees and winners. Apart from winning Best New Song for the unmemorable new one Dame Elton and Bernie Taupin wrote for the film, Rocketman didn't even receive a nomination for Best Picture nor Best Actor for Taron Egerton, which is criminal (especially considering the lashings of accolades that were heaped upon Bohemian Rhapsody last year)!

I digress. We may still be on holiday this week, but it is a Tacky Music Monday - so let's get on with the show, in the company of today's birthday boy the late, great Peter Allen, together with the very lovely Bernadette Peters.

Now this is what I call an Oscars ceremony performance!


This year's ceremony featured homophobic cunt Eminem. Say no more.

Have a good week, peeps!

Sunday, 9 February 2020

El regreso


The view of Castillo de Bil-Bil from our apartment balcony

Dear reader, we have returned from our much-needed sojourn to Benalmadena in Spain...

...and not a moment too soon, it seems. Our flight was like a roller coaster last night, and took much longer than expected, due to the high winds over Europe. Today the peculiarly-named "Storm Ciara" [thoughts: a) why do they need to name a bleeding storm at all? It's not as if the British Isles aren't used to all this weather in winter - and with the number of storms we generally get at this time of year they'll soon run out of names for them; and b) speaking of which, wtf is "Ciara" all about anyhow? Sounds suspiciously like a "council-estate name" to me...] has brought such strong gales that loads of flights are grounded, and because of the rain myriad train lines and roads have been closed up and down the UK. At least it's not freezing cold - but I fear our tans may well wash off.

So - what did we miss while we were away? Nothing much unexpected, really - Coronavirus panic, Trump's aquittal, Huawei, post-Brexit celebrations in the UK, sniping from EU leaders, and the Harvey Weinstein trial - it was banner-headline-business-as-usual for the tabloids. Speaking of hoo-ha, the back-slapping awards season is majorly underway - the Bafta awards were on last week and the media are full of Oscar predictions. What was also surprisingly "of interest" in the UK [as with all things, American Cultural Imperialism wins out, more's the pity] was that thing called the Superbowl that Madonna blew the roof off a few years ago; apparently this time it was the turn of Shakira and J-Lo. I shan't bother to look it up on YouTube. In other news: syphilis is on the rise in the UK, a fox was evicted from the House of Commons, and Cafe Rouge opened a cheese-themed hotel (for some reason).

The world bade a fond farewell to "Spartacus" aka the legendary Kirk Douglas, as well as to the less-of-a-legend mercenary soldier "Mad Mike" Hoare (whose life inspired the film The Wild Geese, starring Richard Burton). We missed what would have been the 95th birthday of Patron Saint Elaine Stritch, as well as David Jason's 80th and that of comedian Jimmy Tarbuck, the 70th of the glossy Morgan Fairchild, the 45th of the lovely Natalie Imbruglia, and the 35th of sex god Cristiano Ronaldo.


Could you not tell?

But of course, the BIG tabloid headline-grabber of the week was when chirpy former children's TV totty and breakfast telly host Phillip Schofield came out of the closet (after 27 years married to a woman) - to the surprise of no-one, really. As I said when some oik in our beach bar asked me what I thought of the news (tongue firmly in cheek): "I haven't been so shocked since 'H' from Steps 'admitted' he was gay..."

Enough of all that nonsense. Our thoughts are still firmly in Spain, and not the blustery UK.

So, to that end, here's a performer of the first order, who, despite her death in 2006 remains very much the top diva (Mas grande, indeed) of Spanish music. Quite rightly, she's also somewhat of a gay icon - as I have mentioned several times before (click the label at the foot of this post), she's Spain's answer to Dame Shirley Bassey - and this clip just serves to reinforce that image, methinks. Oh, the hair! The sparkly gold outfit! The histrionics! We love Rocío Jurado..!


Is it good to be back? NO.

[PS Sorry, Savvy - nothing salacious - redacted or not - to tell about our trip, really. It was all very quiet and relaxing.]

Saturday, 1 February 2020

Oh oh oh oh oh



By the time you see this, dear reader, we will (hopefully) be in the sky, on our way to the delights of Benalmadena by day and the fleshpots of Torremolinos by night...

Only one song we have left to play - as we do every year!


Behave yourselves - and "normal" service will resume in about a week's time.