Just two days to go...
...and no countdown to our trip to Amsterdam [on Thursday] would be complete without featuring our beloved "Dutch Super-Group" De Toppers! Especially with a medley of our fave Amsterdam songs [that I may have featured here once or twice, or more, previously...]:
Tracklist:
Magnifiek! We love De Toppers.
We love Amsterdam!
Yes, it's Monday. However, for a change, I don't care - because I'm on holiday...
...and it's my birthday!
Let's celebrate [and it is a Tacky Music Monday, after all] with a fantabulosa [and appropriate, given the weather] number from our Patron Saint Prime, and the sexiest ballet dancer after Nureyev:
Have a good week, dear reader.
STOP PRESS, 9.40pm:
In their continuing effort to completely piss the blogging community off, the bloody Google gnomes have still failed to fix the ongoing problems with their Reading List. I published a post yesterday at 7pm, and this one today at 9.30am - and neither has yet shown up in the feeds! Bastards.
I've spent a fruitful several hours out in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers - in the midst of the UK's fifth heatwave this year! - watering, tidying, and generally getting things prepared for us being away for five days from Thursday. Hopefully it may have cooled down again by then, but you never know...
Throughout the day, I have (inevitably) been accompanied by the ever-reliable BBC Radio 2. However, just now I was jolted out of my reverie when I heard this one playing, and realised that I was listening to Pick of the Pops, and the charts from THIRTY YEARS AGO! Fuck.
After that shock to the system, I thought - let's add insult to injury, and revisit a whole selection of hits that are of exactly the same vintage...
Three decades?
Sob.
Sad news today that the music production genius William Orbit has departed - far too soon, aged just 69 - for the "Ambient Trance Party Lounge" in Fabulon...
His "sound" was unmistakeable - and he gave a boost to the careers of several of our most cherished artists, not least Queen Madge. Here's a selection of faves here at Dolores Delargo Towers, by way of a tribute to his talent!
A fantabulosa legacy!
RIP, Mr Orbit.
We are in a very celebratory mood here at Dolores Delargo Towers.
It is almost the weekend - as always, that is cause for joy in itself - but this one is particularly special, for come 4pm this afternoon I will not be back in the benighted office for a fortnight!
Once again, my birthday is almost upon us, and next Thursday Madam Arcati, Baby Steve, Houseboy Alex, John-John and I are off to my beloved Amsterdam for five nights of high jinks, merriment, eating FEBO and wandering the grachten. Wonderbaar!
By way of a celebration, here's The Netherlands' finest Queen of Disco herself, Miss Anita Meyer:
[I think the biggest question here is "Why are they dancing in a swimming pool?"]
Dank disco is het vrijdag!
FOOTNOTE:
I'm still coming down to earth after seeing the brilliant Spider-Man: Brand New Day on the big screen in Leicester Square with John-John last night. Not just one of the very best Marvel superhero films I have seen, but one of the best films I've seen in ages...
Superhero films never win top Oscars, that much is an established tradition (for some reason or other), but amidst the "biff! pow!" action [and there's no shortage of that!], there's some damned good acting here. It makes the characters more human, and judging by the genuine gasps and murmurs amongst last night's audience (as well as my own reaction), carries some genuinely relatable emotional heft.
Do try and see it, dear reader. It's definitely worth it!
John-John and I are off this evening to see the new Spider-Man: Brand New Day!
I'm taking some wet-wipes.
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? Still dry, not as hot as it has been - but so incredibly blustery I came home to find a whole branch of the bastard weed tree had snapped off and landed on top of the plants at the top of the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers! Not much damage done, thank goodness, and The Madam's chopped it up and thrown it over next-door where it belongs [they're actually away, thank gawd, so we have some peace]!
FOOTNOTE:
Mayhem, Lesson 1 to 6 - incriminating evidence from Hils' 60th birthday party!
In case you were wondering what we were all staggering about dancing to - it's this!
It truly wouldn't be one of our parties without it...
Britain's grandmothers are concerned repeated heatwaves are tempting the foolish towards unhealthy chilled drinks and away from traditional scalding beverages.
Our wise elders have warned the country that even in 33-degree temperatures, they should remember the best way to cool down is with a big mug of nice hot tea.
Grandmother of eight Margaret Gerving said: “Hydrating? My grandfather served 22 years in the British Raj, and he never hydrated once. He stuck to hot tea.
“I’m all for this keeping curtains and windows closed all day, though I don’t hold with this opening them at night. But why drink water when a freshly-brewed pot of Tetley’s is available? That’s quenching.
“We had summers twice as hot as this, popping tar bubbles and frying eggs in them, and the kettle was never off. Tea heats up the body which has a cooling effect, it’s common sense proved by top scientists like Heinz Wolff.
“Tea is the most suitable drink to consume in all weathers and for all occasions. If you’re fancy you can have coffee. Either way, remember the golden rule and keep it piping. Also, for lunch, think about a stew.”
Grandson Kayden Gerving said: “When I die I go to heaven, for I have already served my time in hell sipping tea at my nan’s house in 44 degree temperatures. With 'Tipping Point' on.”
Of course.
On this day in history: "in fourteen hundred and ninety-two Columbus sailed the ocean blue", setting off from Spain with three ships on his way to make his ground-breaking "discovery" of the Americas; in 1778 La Scala opera house opened in Milan; in 1858 the source of the Nile (Lake Victoria) was discovered; in 1914 Germany declared war on France; in 1936 Jesse Owens gave Hitler's "master-race" ideals a kicking by winning the first of four gold medals at the Berlin Olympics... and, in 1966, my sister was born!
When my father woke me on that fateful day (I was three years old), he said "We've got you an early birthday present. It's a baby sister.". I cried, and said "I wanted a tricycle!"
In tribute to my 60 years of resentment, here's an appropriate song - and the tackiest choice for a Tacky Music Monday in ages. I dedicate it to Hils...
My ears hurt.
Have a good week, dear reader.
STOP PRESS, 12.23am:
My last few posts arrived in the Blogger Reading List practically as soon as I pressed the "publish" button. Thus, it remains a mystery why this particular one has completely failed to do so, ELEVEN HOURS later. Bastard Google Gnomes!
STOP PRESS #2, 9.20am:
It still hasn't shown up. Arseholes.
It's been a hectic weekend, dear reader!
My sister Hils' 60th birthday party last night was a fantabulosa, excessive occasion, as one would expect. Today, in full recovery mode, I didn't even get up until 3pm!
By that time, Madam Arcati, his sister Carol and niece Jen were already ensconced in Wetherspoons for lunch, so, after doing some emergency watering of some of the more desperate, drooping plants in the garden, what else could I do but join them..?
After all that, all I can do, really, is hand over to a word from our sponsor:
Nothing exceeds like excess, they say...
Music: Henrik Nielsen - Skylight Room]
[click to embiggen]
Awwww...
It's my ickle baby sister's SIXTIETH BIRTHDAY party today!
Not so "ickle" nowadays, of course:
By way of a little tribute, this - that she and I used to dance to at the long-gone Lazers nightclub "Bowie/Roxy" nights in Newport way back in the early 1980s...
Great (if distant) memories...
Happy Birthday, Hils!! We'll all be there tonight to celebrate your dotage...😂
Oh, thank fuck (again). Another tedious and busy week's starting to fade away...
...and it's the magnificent Fatboy Slim's birthday!
A perfect excuse to get the party started
[and it is, indeed, my dear sister Hils's
60th birthday party tomorrow]. Thank Disco Big Beat it's Friday!
Have a faboo weekend, dear reader!
STOP PRESS (11pm 31/07/2026):
Just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water the whole Blogger Reading List time-lag issue was sorted [every post I have published this week seems to have arrived in the feeds immediately, as it should] - no!
I published this "Thank Disco It's Friday" post at 7.40am. It still is not showing in the list.
Fuck those Google Gnomes!
Sharing the big day with another unlikely assortment of notables including the divine Kate Bush, Emily Brontë, Frances de la Tour, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Peter Bogdanovich, Daley Thompson, Lady Harriet Harman, Sir Clive Sinclair, Terry O'Neill, Henry Ford, Sir Christopher Nolan, Jimmy Cliff, David Sanborn, Rat Scabies, Stan Stennett, Christopher Warren-Green, Lisa Kudrow, Sid Krofft, Hilary Swank, Liz Kershaw, Buddy Guy and abstract modernist sculptor Henry Moore...
...it is the 85th birthday today of the man who wrote She's a Lady [a huge hit for Tom Jones], It Doesn't Matter Anymore [for Buddy Holly], Diana, and (of course) the lyrics to the enduring standard My Way - Mr Paul Albert Anka!
However, his 2005 album Rock Swings is, in my opinion, his finest hour. From it, this fave:
Faboo!
The number of blazes caused by disposable barbecues suggests idiots may still need advice on their use. Read this Q&A before you start randomly committing arson.So what’s the problem again?
It’s all down to a thing called ‘fire’, which has a surprising tendency to ‘spread’ and burn things you weren’t trying to cook, such as fields, fences and your house. Curse those irresponsible barbecue manufacturers for putting deadly fire in them.Can I use a disposable barbecue in the car?
Technically, yes. The barbecue can definitely be ignited on the back seat of a moving car, but most people choose not to because it’s mental and you might die horribly in a burning vehicle. If that’s too complicated a scenario for you to grasp, don’t do it because your sausages will keep rolling off and getting fluff on them.Are they safe for my dog to use?
Not really. Dogs are likely to drool on the barbecue tongs and have a poor understanding of food hygiene generally. Why are you asking this?Can I use it to dry my hair?
You probably could get your hair quite dry over a barbecue, but there’s a risk of burns and smoke inhalation, not to mention the huge amount of faff. That said, disposable barbecues are £5 cheaper than the cheapest hairdryer on Amazon, so some fuckwit will have tried it.Where do I dump my barbecue when I’ve finished with it?
You’d think that the moment you’ve rammed your food down your gullet you’d be free to abandon a smouldering BBQ on a crowded beach, in a busy picnic area or in a litter bin full of paper. But strangely you’re expected to safely put out a fire hazard that is entirely your responsibility.Why should I bother putting it out?
Good question. You’ve realised that putting a barbecue out properly doesn’t directly benefit you personally. We’d try to explain the Golden Rule and the social contract but that will be hard work. Luckily there’s the much simpler concept of ‘you might go to prison and get bummed’ to deter you.If I forget the burgers can I use a cow from a field?
No, because the cow belongs to a farmer. There are other issues of practicality and basic standards of decency, but let’s keep it idiot-proof and just say Farmer Giles will be angry. Also it’s unlikely that a £4.50 disposable barbecue will cook a 1,200lb cow, unless you like your steak really rare. And horrific.Can I use it on a garage forecourt?
If you’re peckish on the way to the beach it’s tempting to whip out the barbie and rustle up a burger while you’re filling up with petrol. But it’s generally better to buy a Twix. Just take our word for that.
Of course.
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? Heatwave #4 is upon us - with temperatures in London set to reach 33C/92F (and possibly higher) tomorrow, and no respite in sight. Pass me a gin'n'tonic with loads of ice and a slice of lime, my dear...
Shit! Another week is here, already. After a lovely weekend - HM The Queen's frocks with Mother, a day in the garden - I am not ready for this.
Never mind, eh? Let's cheer ourselves up with something from the "Nazis' favourite screen songbird" Marika Rökk, in all her weirdness, shall we? On this Tacky Music Monday - this clip (from 1958, long after her dodgy reputation had been redeemed) is an absolute joy!
Sit back and enjoy the madness of Mir ist so langweilig ("I'm so bored") - and I can guarantee that you won't be...
Ich liebe es!
Have a good week, dear reader.
I have spent five hours today in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers! It's been very warm, but a bit more cloudy, on and off - and as London is now subject to a hosepipe ban, every single pot (of the hundreds we have) needed to be watered using the watering can! Exhausting, but worthwhile.
With the horrors in the news at the moment, thank heavens for those geniuses at Soft Tempo Lounge, and their ultra-futuristic world, to give us some calm:
Ah, that's better...
[Music: Die Jankowski Singers - Vilja-Lied; Original film: Whirlpool - Home is What You Make It (1969)]
As I gather myself to go and meet up with Hils, Crog, Madam Arcati [who is heading from work] and Mother to go and gawp at a cornucopia of the late HM The Queen's outfits over the decades of her long life, I thought I would leave you, dear reader, with another selection of "newer" choons that have caught my ear of late...
First up, the very welcome - and unexpected - return of an old fave from the 1990s:
Here's someone who owes a great musical debt to another decade altogether - the '80s. Shades of Depeche Mode, methinks:
Now, this is a queen who just adores his dressing up box (and Troye Sivan, too, from the sound of it):
MySpace's most successful "discovery" is back - with a darker tone than her previous hits, too. It takes a couple of listens, but I like it:
Our Princess returns, in a most surprising collaboration, indeed. More surprising was that this appearance, and this entire video, was shot just down the road from us in Alexandra Palace - and we didn't know... Dammit!
I was fully expecting Kylie to occupy the "saving the best to last" slot - and then I watched/heard this! It's simply faboo:
As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts...
It's looming. Just one more day to grit one's teeth through, after another busy week...
In celebration of the fact the weekend - and party time!* - is almost here, I think it's time for a dance remix of the ineffably corny theme for that 70s fave Wonder Woman [featuring today's birthday girl Lynda Carter - who is (gulp!) 75 years old!]...
Thank Disco It's Friday!
I spent a lot of wasted time in 1975 spinning around, but never got those satin tights (fighting for our rights).
Have a good weekend, dear reader!
[*I say "party", but we are off to see the Queen Elizabeth II: Her Life in Style exhibition with Mother tomorrow, so that's as good as...]
Heavens! Sharing the occasion (as he does) with an assortment of "notables" including David Essex, Martin Gore of Depeche Mode, Gloria DeHaven, Daniel Radcliffe, Jo Brand, Raymond Chandler, Woody Harrelson, Michael Wilding, Haile Selassie, Madeline Bell, Michael Foot, architect Richard Rogers, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Slash of Guns'n'Roses, Graham Gooch, Fran Healy of Travis and - erm - Monica Lewinsky...
[and, speaking of sax] ...it's the 80th birthday today of Mr Andy McKay, the saxophonist and oboist whose sublime talents - and natty dressing - contributed to the huge success of "the coolest band on the planet" Roxy Music.
By way of a little tribute - and also just because... Here is the classic song that he co-wrote for the group [surprisingly, it was going to be an instrumental "filler" track until Mr Ferry wrote the words for it] - in my opinion one of the most magnificent choons in their incredible repertoire:
T'ain't no big thing
To wait for the bell to ring
T'ain't no big thing
The toll of the bell
Aggravated, spare for days
I troll downtown the red light place
Jump up bubble up, what's in store?
Love is the drug and I need to score
Showing out, showing out, hit and run
Boy meets girl where the beat goes on
Stitched up tight, can't shake free
Love is the drug, got a hook on me
Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I'm thinking of
Oh oh can't you see
Love is the drug for me
Late that night I park my car
Stake my place in the singles bar
Face to face, toe to toe
Heart to heart as we hit the floor
Lumber up, limbo down
The locked embrace, the stumble round
I say go, she say yes
Dim the lights, you can guess the rest
Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I'm thinking of
Oh oh can't you see
Love is the drug, got a hook in me
Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I'm thinking of
Oh oh can't you see
Love is the drug for me
Utterly brilliant.
Many happy returns, Mr Andrew "Andy" Mackay (born 23rd July 1946)
And so, farewell then, the implausibly-named Plas Johnson, who I just discovered has died, a week short of his 95th birthday.
Who?! I hear you ask, dear reader!
OK, he was a saxophonist and session musician who played on records by myriad artists such as B.B. King, Peggy Lee, Nat "King" Cole, Frank Sinatra, Duane Eddy, Ricky Nelson and Bobby Vee...
...but it was for this that he is most well-known [well his playing is, if not his name]!
What a legacy!
Ice lolly manufacturers have responded to demand for a product that in no way resembles a cock.
A new lolly, the Ice Block Max, has been developed to meet the needs of male heterosexuals who want to enjoy a lolly without feeling they are basically eating a penis.
The new product is a grey cube on a stick resembling a building material, which tastes of bloody steak for a ‘more manly flavour’ and features a picture of Jason Statham on the wrapper.
A spokesman for manufacturers Walls said: “This lolly is so red-bloodedly male it can practically do 200 pull-ups while grunting ‘Hurr!’
“The unique, perfectly cuboid shape means that it doesn’t have a shaft. Research shows that anything taller than it is wide basically looks like an erection when being sucked.
“Of course we will continue to make the classic phallic lollies – Twister, Calippo, Mini Milk – but sales are likely to fall now men don’t need to look as if they’re well-practised at sucking cock.
“Usually when manufacturers try to make a hyper-masculine product it somehow ends up seeming super-gay. That’s why we’re thrilled to have Jason Statham promoting it.
“He’s straightness personified, especially the way he wrestles that other guy in 'The Transporter' in a big pool of oil, with his shirt off.”
Of course.
The eternal conundrum continues to baffle us - why do weekends fly by so damned quickly, yet the working weeks drag so tortuously?
Yet again, we're in need of a bit of a wake-up call.
How fortuitous then, that yesterday happened to be the 86th birthday of one Florencia Bisenta de Casillas-Martinez Cardona, better known as one of our fave divas here at Dolores Delargo Towers, Señorita Vikki Carr!
On this Tacky Music Monday, I think it's appropriate to revisit an old fave of hers that I have featured several times before. Simply because I adore this uber-camp Scopitone clip..!
Many happy returns, Vikki Carr (born 19th July 1940)
Have a good week, dear reader.
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.] .
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...
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!
Love it.
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!
Have a great weekend, dear reader!
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:
[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!]
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.
Of course.
It's another snippets post, dear reader...
Discuss:
And the weather? Still warm, but the ongoing breezes are taking the edge off. What I call a good summer!
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.
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!
Inexplicable, but fun.
Have a good week, dear reader.
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.
As I turn once again, on this warm Sunday, to seek some suitably "cool" music from our house band - I was hardly prepared for this extravaganza:
Featuring themes from:
Possibly one of the most bizarre things I've seen from PMJ!
Postmodern Jukebox is on tour again in 2026 [when are they ever not?!], but not "crossing the pond" this time around, it seems...
Another hot day here in London (29C/84F), albeit not as hot as we've had it - and John-John and I are meeting later to attend our former colleague Claire (Mrs R)'s 50th birthday party tonight at the very swanky Lillie's rooftop wine bar, which looks like it could be the perfect venue for a summer's evening...
Meanwhile, there's a running joke between John-John and Claire, as his nick-name for her is "Atomic Mutton", a pun on her sort-of-resemblance to one of this lot, I presume:
Happy birthday, Mrs R!
[Attentive readers will recall I did post this song last year - but in a different version, before they sacked original member Kerry Katona - and wrote of my perennial association of the choon with memories of Gay Pride in 2001 and singing along to it as "You can fill my hole again"!]
As the UK continues to swelter, with no significant drop in temperatures in sight, let's give thanks for the impending weekend when at least we can get out-and-about rather than be chained to a desk for hours...
There are few good reasons to celebrate, too. I have an actual party to go to tomorrow, as one of the people John-John and I used to work with a few years ago in Scope, Claire turns 50 years old and has booked out a swanky new rooftop cocktail bar in Olympia, West London for the occasion!
It also happens to be the birthday today of the very lovely Mavis Staples, last survivor of her family's classic 1970s gospel-soul-funk group The Staple Singers. And whoever knew that they covered a Talking Heads number?!
It's brilliant - Thank Disco It's Friday!
Have a faboo weekend, dear reader!
FOOTNOTE:
British Wimbledon hopeful Arthur Fery is primed and ready for action, it would appear...
"I wanted to be a singer, not a star. There's a difference between wanting to be famous and wanting to sing well. I have never gone out of fashion. And do you know why? Because I never sought it. When you don't seek it, it's always with you."
We here at Dolores Delargo Towers are distraught at the sad news that Swansea's finest export Miss Bonnie Tyler has donned her last pair of leather trousers and departed for the great pyrotechnics-dry-ice-and-wind-machine-equipped stadium in Fabulon.
We adored her for her down-to-earth, no-nonsense personality, her bounce-backs and - of course - her vocal talents. She's gone far too soon...
Facts about Our Bonnie:
Speaking of hits, here are two of her early ones, before she ever met Jim Steinman:
Regarding the "Steinman years", I posted their collaboration Holding Out for a Hero back in May [when the news first hit that Bonnie was in a coma], so how about this, that rarely gets an outing, despite its outrageously camp video:
No tribute on this sad day would be complete, of course, without this song. No, not the original, but the hilarious "literal interpretation" video of her campest ever single - Total Eclipse of the Heart!
RIP, Bonnie Tyler (born Gaynor Hopkins, 8th June 1951 - 8th July 2026).
