Happy Canada Day to our chums across the water! And congratulations, too - the news has broken that at last, Deadpool has got his wish. Canada (joining fellow former colony Australia) will be entering the Eurovision Song Contest next year!
To celebrate this important occasion, I couldn't resist posting this again:
Mistress MJ will be breaking that rule as we speak...
The Princess of Wales has announced that if she has to climb three peaks in 24 hours just to get away from the fucking kids, that is what she will do.Kate completed the challenge of summiting the three highest mountains in Scotland, England and Wales and described not being whined at by her children or husband for a whole day as the ‘most fulfilling experience of her life.’
The 44-year-old said: “It’s settled. I’m a climber now. They can’t get me up here.
“I considered a marathon, but Wills said they’d be there to cheer me on every step of the way so I immediately decided ‘fuck that’.
“Instead, in the name of charity or some shit, I shall be climbing every mountain in Scotland exceeding 3,000ft in height. Where I will encounter only taciturn men swathed in Gore-Tex also up here to avoid their families.
“God, the peace of standing on that peak, gazing at the horizon, thinking ‘Even if Louis wanted a biscuit or my husband wanted to bitch about his brother, it would be nine hours before they could get up here to tell me.’ It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
Prince William said: “Wouldn’t it be nice to all surprise Mummy in a helicopter?”
Of course.
Sigh. Here we are again.
The heatwave having subsided, this would be a perfect day to potter in the garden. Unfortunately, back to the office we go...
Never mind, eh? To save ourselves from screaming, let's fix our minds on the fact that there's only this week to go, then it's Gay Xmas!
Meanwhile, on this Tacky Music Monday let's join "France's premier electrician" and his cheesy dancers in a morning exercise routine:
I feel better already.
Have a good week, dear reader!
Alongside a cornucopia of "names" including John Inman, Richard Rodgers, Peter Paul Rubens, Gilda Radner, King Henry VIII, Kathy Bates, John Wesley, A. A. Gill, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Sir Harold Evans, Willy Whitelaw and - erm - Elon Musk...
...it's the one-hundredth birthday today of the peerless Mel Brooks!
Always one of my favourite film-makers way back to when I was a child, his Blazing Saddles, The Producers, Young Frankenstein, Silent Movie and History of the World: Part I remain among my most cherished films, and I particularly adored his classic entourage of regular actors (Madeline Kahn, Dom DeLouise, Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman and Cloris Leachman among them).
He also has an unerring eye for camp - I suppose being married to Anne Bancroft for all those years must have helped!
Speaking of camp...
[and again:]
All hail, Mel Brooks (born Melvin James Kaminsky, 28th June 1926)!
Spot what’s hidden in the picture?
This!
Yes - our little Robin, despite searing temperatures and rapidly dying foliage around her [because we don't want to water the wall pot of fuchsia while she's in there] is still carefully hiding behind the twigs and nursing her clutch of eggs, opposite our back door. It won't be long now till the chicks arrive [fingers crossed]!
Meanwhile, as we have just got through the last full day of this heatwave, according to the Met Office - a day that has been mainly overcast and incredibly humid, and exhausting - we need some respite, courtesy of the wondrous folks at Soft Tempo Lounge. I have seen the future, and it involves lots of plastic, lots of very unrealistic special effects, and lots of pouting!
Faboo, as always.
[Music: The Atlanta Disco Band - It's Love; Original film series: Star Maidens (1976)]
[* and the title of this blog? This.]
STOP PRESS. 12.30pm:
Here we go again...
Neither this post from last night, nor my tribute post to Ann Blyth from Friday, have shown up the the Blogger Reading List! The Google gnomes need another kick up the arse.
It's the end of another week, dear reader, and heavens! It's been a hot-and-sticky one...
The heatwave continues today, with an extension of the "red alert, only travel if necessary" message from government - but, to be honest, I haven't seen a huge difference in the number of people commuting, or just travelling, through it all in spite of all the dire warnings. We Brits are more resilient than the tabloids (and our "lords-and-masters" in Parliament) like to think we are, evidently!
As we sweat our way to the weekend, I'm enjoying this little run of "compare-the-decade" posts [here's 1976, and yesterday it was 1986] - so let's leap one more decade to 1996!
This week in June thirty years ago, there wasn't anything more than "average temperatures for the time of year", so nothing comparable at all to today. There was (yet again), however, a load of football shite preoccupying the masses, with the European Cup.
This might explain the fact that among other horrible occupants cluttering our charts [such as the godawful Fugees' massacre of Killing Me Softly at #1, Slime Dion, Mariah-fucking-Carey and Peter Andre] there were two "anthems" to that sport [including the first appearance of Three Lions by Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds] also "bed-blocking" the higher echelons.
Thank heavens, therefore, for this, which held its own for weeks amongst the detritus, and demonstrated that the 90s was, more than anything else, the Decade of Dance!
Thank Disco Eurodance It's Friday!
You can do anything that you want to do
With your mind body and soul
Do it, prove it to yourself and say
I want (I want)
I will (I will)
I can do anything
It's a difficult world and you got to prove
That you're ready and you can do it
Nothing in this world can stop you
I know I can I will fulfil my dreams
Don't stop movin'
Keep it up
Keep on movin' get it right
Yeah you've got to get it right
Oh yeah oh
Don't stop movin'
I it's your life
Keep on movin' get it right
Yeah you've got to get it right
You can be mystical magical
Physically phenomenal
Good to go
Not slow
Feel the heat and let it flow
You've got to get it right
Have a fab weekend, peeps! Keep cool.
As this stifling heat continues [it hit 36.7C/98.1F in Somerset, and 33.5C/92F in London] - and having already taken a trip back to the "yardstick against which all heatwaves are compared", 1976 yesterday - I thought it would be interesting to compare what the summer was like a decade later, in 1986.
Although it's hardly gone down in the record books for its decent weather, it's interesting to note that forty years ago this week, we were indeed in the middle of a hot spell [albeit a shorter heatwave than we have now, with just three consecutive days over 30C/86F]. Also - in a spooky echo of today - in the news headlines was a war in Lebanon, a World Cup, Madonna, and a delusional right-wing US president destabilising the Middle East...
But what was at the top of our charts, I hear you ask?
This!
The last ever single by Wham! before George officially went solo.
Four decades? Where do they go? Sniff.
It certainly has been a hot, hot, HOT day here in London [it hit 36C/96.8F (!) on the south coast - and was definitely not much cooler here] - and I spent three hours of it in a Teams meeting pod in work, with "air-con" that was about as effective as someone wafting a chiffon scarf in my general direction!
Hey ho. As always, any heatwave in the UK is immediately and inexorably compared our most famous one way back in 1976...
...so, simply because this song was indeed #1 in our charts this very week 50 years ago - and in honour of our very own Ms Scarlet, who loves it - let's all sing along to The Wurzels!
I drove my tractor through your haystack last night Cos I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key We'll have twins and triplets, I'm a man built for speed (Ooh ar ooh ar) 'Cause I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key Phwoar, she's a lovely bit of stuff 'n' all For seven long years I've been alone in this place (Ooh ar ooh ar) 'Cause I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key Who loves ya baby, HA Arrr, you're a fine lookin' woman and I can't wait to get me hands on your land, haha!
(Ooh ar ooh ar)
I threw me pitch fork at your dog to keep quiet
(Ooh ar ooh ar)
Now somethin's tellin' me, that you'm avoidin' me
(Ooh ar ooh ar)
Come on now darlin' you got somethin' I need
Come on now let's get together in perfect harmony
Oh I got twenty acres and you got forrty-three
Now I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key
And you know I'll love ya darlin' so give me your hand (Ooh ar ooh ar)
But the thing I want the most is all the acres of land
Come on now let's get together in perfect harmony
I got twenty acres and you got forty-three
Now I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key
Pigs sleep in the kitchen, it's a proper disgrace (Ooh ar ooh ar)
Now if I cleaned it up would ya change our mind (Ooh ar ooh ar)
I'll give up drinkin' scrumpy and that lager and lime
Come on now, let's get together in perfect harmony
I got twenty acres and you got forty-three
Now I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key
Weren't we a grand couple at that last wurzel dance
I wore brand new gaiters and me corduroy pants (Hahahaha!)
In your new Sunday dress with your perfume smellin' grand
We had our photos taken, us holding hands
Now I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key
Now that we''re both past our fifties I think that you and me
Should stop this gallivanting and will you marry me
'Cause I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key
Only in this country could something like that top the charts for two weeks and end up one of the best-selling songs of the year, in a year dominated by great stuff from Abba, Elton John & Kiki Dee, Queen, Rod Stewart, Miss Ross and Wings, and the year that also saw the simultaneous rise of Punk and Disco...
Keir Starmer has performed one of his characteristic U-turns by walking back yesterday’s resignation, Downing Street has confirmed.
After thinking about it overnight, the prime minister has announced he is remaining in office and consequently that Andy Burnham can get on his little train and sod off back to Manchester.
He said: “If Starmerism is anything, it is making a hugely damaging announcement then changing your mind and ineffectively reversing it. Which is what I do here.
“Why would anyone be surprised? It’s what I did with winter fuel payments, the family farm tax, Mandelson. So I stand before you today to say I am resuming my position as prime minister.
“Your old pal Keir is going nowhere. I’m going to hunker down and weather the Makerfield win with my characteristic stubbornness. I may, in time, offer Burnham a junior Cabinet position and allow him to work his way up.
“You seem too stunned with excitement to speak. I’ve noted this reaction previously. I shall leave the room to reflect on my infallible political instincts but feel free to form a conga line in my absence.”
Voter Eleanor Shaw of Hereford said: “And we’ll do just as we did when he went back on those previous decisions, and ignore it.”
Of course.
We are shaken out of our reverie by the realisation that the old familiar - and endlessly enjoyable - routine that is called work begins once more...
Hey ho.
To take our minds off it - it would have been the 105th birthday yesterday of one of our most revered of all Hollywood vamps, Miss Jane Russell, so on this Tacky Music Monday, let us indulge in some homoerotic fantasies alongside the great lady herself, shall we?
Have a good week, dear reader. Keep cool in the heatwave, if you can...
We are less than two weeks away from "Gay Xmas" aka Gay Pride in London, and our outfits are all done and sorted. We can only hope that this new heatwave has subsided by then, otherwise we'll look less-than-glamorous, bathed in sweat...
Speaking of all things gay, we're well overdue another faboo classic film review by the lovely "Tired Old Queen at the Movies" Mr Steve Hayes - and when I saw his latest was one of the great British gay films of the 1980s [cf. Maurice, My Beautiful Laundrette], that coincided with my own coming-out, I whooped with joy! Some of the quotes alone are timeless:
Guy Bennett: "But you couldn't help it, could you? Because in your heart of hearts, like Barclay and Delahay and Fowler and Menzies, you still believe, in spite of your talk of equality and fraternity, you still believe some people are better than others because of the way they make love. Now, think of that for a lifetime. Think of the names: pansy, nancy, fairy, fruit, brown-nose."Menzies: "You'd better take a pull on yourself, Guy!"
Guy Bennett: "I'd rather do it with you."Fowler: "I have half a mind to ask Barclay for permission to beat you!"
Tommy Judd: "Well, you've half a mind. We can all agree on that."Guy Bennett: "Fame or infamy, what does it matter? I shan't be forgotten."
Wonderful...
Another Country is currently available to watch on YouTube - catch it while you can!
It's been rather hot and humid in London again today - and of course, I spent hours in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers, potting-on more specimens that have rapidly outgrown their current space, and watering the whole shebang from end-to end [that's a lot of pots!].
There's one wall-pot that isn't going to be sprayed down with the hose for a while, however - for we have discovered, among the branches of our Fuchsia Viva Ireland (with its companion self-seeded fern), and shaded by a branch of the climbing Fuchsia Lady Boothby, directly opposite our back door to the garden...
...a Robin has made her nest!!
That's a first - for any garden we've had - and it will be lovely to observe [fingers crossed] the pair raise their chicks! If I can do so without disturbing her, I hope to get a pic at some stage.
Meanwhile, let's take a trip to exotic climes, in the company of the ever-wonderful Soft Tempo Lounge, shall we? I think we should:
Just what the doctor ordered.
I wonder if all that hideous brutalist architecture's still standing?
[Music: Orchestra King Zérand - Pop in Mexico]
The weekend's almost upon us, the sun is blazing (it's 29C/85F, and likely to get even hotter next week!)...
...and it would have been our Patron Saint of Terrifying Head-Flicks Signorina Raffaella Carrà's birthday today!
Sufficient excuse (if any were needed) to revisit this - as La Carrà and her impossibly-tight-trousered safety gays show us how to party. Thank Disco Raffaella It's Friday!
Have a great weekend, dear reader...
[Ma che vacanza é = "But what kind of holiday is this?" in Italian]
FOOTNOTE:
I'm taking bets on how long today's post will take to arrive in the Blogger Reading List... Wednesday's and yesterday's both arrived together on the dot at 9am - that's more than 36 hours for the former, and 19 hours for the latter! Someone needs a good kick up the arse at Google HQ.
Sad news. The last surviving member of that fabled and eternally camp trio The Beverley Sisters, Teddie Beverley has shimmied her way up the dazzling stairway to Fabulon, at the ripe old age of 99.
True "national treasures", The Bevs (as they were known) gave a much-needed boost to post-War Britain with their close-harmony singing and their cheery personas, which made them an ideal Light Entertainment staple. They always dressed in identical outfits, had a string of hits in the 1950s, performed endlessly on the cabaret circuit, and were the highest paid female entertainers in the UK for more than 20 years, becoming "gay icons" in the process.
I actually saw them on stage, headlining the Gay Pride festival at Jubilee Gardens [where the London Eye is located today], at the first Pride I ever attended way back in 1985!
Another long-distant chapter of my life closes. Sigh.
More Beverley Sisters over at the Dolores Delargo Towers Museum of Camp, including this footnote, that I simply have to repeat here:
FOOTNOTE
Such was the "camp icon" status of the girls, even Rod Stewart, Elton John and Freddie Mercury desired their "look":
[In 1978 the trio discussed] "...the possibility of the three of us forming a supergroup; the name we had in mind was Nose, Teeth & Hair, a tribute to each of our most remarked-upon physical attributes. The general idea was that we could appear dressed like the Beverley Sisters. Somehow this project never came to anything, which is contemporary music’s deep and abiding loss."
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? Still far too breezy, but there's been a noticeable rise in temperature - and more sunshine ahead...
STOP PRESS:
Here we go again. I published this yesterday evening [Wednesday], and here we are, half a day later [on Thursday] - and it still hasn't arrived in the Blogger Reading List! Bastard Google Gnomes...
None of the advances in technology of the last half-century have made it any easier to enter text via a remote control.
A technological black hole means anyone attempting to search for a film or TV show has to enter it letter-by-letter as if they were putting their initials by a Space Invaders high score in 1980.
Jim Bates of Congleton said: “I tell speakers to play music and they do so. I type a destination into my car and it shows me how to get there. But on my TV?
“There’s no slick user interface. To find a movie on Netflix I have to mash down flimsy rubber buttons while it brightly suggests movies that are not what I want or close to it. All the others are the same.
“Even on the PlayStation, a controller with at least 30 different inputs demands I do it one letter at a time. Why does all pretence of being user-friendly stop at the telly? Why has it remained in the Ceefax era?
“Every site online’s always checking I’m not a sophisticated bot buying tickets or logging into my bank account. They should get these fucking bots working on the telly. Then maybe I could watch 'Insidious 5' without first having to look up how to spell it.”
Technology expert Jack Brown said: “Now most of our technological agency is given over to machines it’s important to have such instances of human independence, even though typing in 'Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness' gave me an embolism.”
Of course.
Fuck. Too soon, too soon - another week begins. We need a pick-me-up!
Among another "mixed bag" of names such as Neil Patrick Harris, Edvard Grieg, James Robertson Justice, Noddy Holder (who is 80 years old), Richard Baker, Johnny Hallyday, Simon Callow, Courteney Cox, Harry Nilsson, Lord John Redwood, Erroll Garner, David Rose, Waylon Jennings, Chris Morris, Yuri Andropov, Helen Hunt, Julie Hagerty and - erm - Xi Jinping...
...it would also have been the 80th birthday of the unlikeliest of sex symbols, Demis Roussos!
On this Tacky Music Monday, out of his lesser-known back-catalogue, I have discovered this! Lemon-and-brown flared outfits deserve a comeback.
However, we can never disassociate the man from the legendary summer of '76, fifty years ago, with its stand-pipes in the streets and months of sunshine.
Reflecting that magnificent heatwave, the great Greek mountain emerged from obscurity to hit Number 1 with one of the eternal summer anthems:
It always brings back thoughts of Abigail's Party to me...
"Laurence, Angela likes Demis Roussos, Tony likes Demis Roussos, I like Demis Roussos and Sue would like to hear Demis Roussos.So do you think we could have Demis Roussos on?"
"It's a pity he's so fat."
Yeah, but he doesn't sound it, though, when you hear him."
Demis Roussos (born Artemios Ventouris-Roussos, 15th June 1946 – 25th January 2015)
"...I’ve always been positive. I wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t. I think you’re always who you are, but life distracts you, particularly because of fame – everybody treats you different, therefore you end up with a distorted idea of who you are. Don’t you think that life’s about growing into yourself in a funny kind of way? You’re looking for answers and I think as you get older, you realise there aren’t really answers. You just have to kind of get on with it. Life is kind of like clinging to a rock, isn’t it? We’re all clinging to a rock, and some people have got a better grip than others. Some people look bedraggled, and other people look like Jerry Hall dressed as mermaid on that Roxy Music album cover.”
Oh, lordy! You know you're getting old when...
...you realise that Boy George is 65 years old today!
Time flies...
Many happy returns, Boy George (born George Alan O'Dowd, 14th June 1961)
...Sir Kevin Sinfield [rugby league star who fundraised millions for Motor Neurone Disease awareness in honour of his fellow player Rob Burrows who eventually died of the condition], Sir Peter Lord and Sir David Sproxton [founders of Aardman Animations studio, that gave the world Wallace & Gromit and Chicken Run], Dame Malorie Blackman [former Children's Laureate] and Dame Julia Donaldson [children's author who created The Gruffalo]. The divine Dame Helen Mirren and photojournalist Sir Don McCullin are made Companions of Honour, of which there are only 65 at any one time.
Among thousands of other names from the worlds of sport, entertainment, fundraising, politics and public service, also honoured are:
Congratulations, one and all!
Almost there...
As what might well turn out to be a decent warm weekend is looming on the horizon, so we need to get ourselves into the party mood!
How about something completely hilarious, as we venture into the murky world of obscure low-budget 80s Hi-NRG productions, such as this one - from an US "artiste" who was based entirely in Japan (where presumably they didn't mind that she could barely sing and certainly couldn't dance).
Enjoy - and Thank Disco It's Friday!
Have a great one, dear reader!
Oh, wow..!! Our Glorious Leader Madonna has done it again - after all, why do a three-minute pop video for a single when you can do an entire mini-movie, with clips from several tracks, to tease the arrival of your new album?!
Featuring an all-star cast that includes Sabrina Carpenter, Benedict Cumberbatch, Kate Moss, Gwendoline Christie, Richard E. Grant, Julia Garner, Shygirl, Arca, Odessa A’zion, Archie Madekwe, Debi Mazar, Madonna’s daughter Lourdes Leon and Chelsea footballers Cole Palmer and Joao Pedro, this trailer for her much anticipated Confessions II is a cinematic work of epic proportions - and I love it!
I can't wait for the album itself to arrive on 3rd July - just in time for Pride in London!
Fashion. Inflatable rooms and furniture?! Human kaleidoscopes?!
Let the wonders commence, and let those marvellous people at Soft Tempo Lounge take us on a trip. And it is a trip...
Ah, that's better.
[Music: Les Masques - Mais un jour...]
FOOTNOTE - a word from our sponsor:
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Thank you for joining us in keeping that legacy alive!The Soft Tempo Lounge Team.
The Spanish tourist board is encouraging Britons to visit this summer for a good chuckle at all those miserable because they cannot be in Dubai.
As thousands of former influencers and the wealth-adjacent are forced to spend summers in a less glamorous location due to an inconvenient war, ordinary people are invited for a cheap holiday to wallow in someone else’s misery.
Holidaymaker Jordan Gardner said: “You can see them congregating in beachfront cafes, bitching about how low the skyscrapers are or that 30 degrees isn’t hot enough.
“My girlfriend and I settled in next to them, luxuriating in their complaints that you can’t get a decent gold leaf coffee anywhere. It’s so relaxing hearing them fall silent as a Mercedes S-Class goes by, swallowing their bitter regret they’re not in it.”
Susan Traherne, owner of Inspector Morse-themed bar One More Pint said: “We get them in here, moaning none of the hotel pools are infinite, disappointed their cocktails don’t cost three figures.
“We put an influencer on stage to bitch that she couldn’t hire a gold-plated Lamborghini anywhere so how could she make content and it was harming her hustle. The regulars were in stitches. Far better than the Chubby Brown tribute we’d booked.”
Former Dubai resident Nikki Hollis said: “How can it be a holiday without a Prada store? Why has this crowd gathered? What’s schadenfreude? Is it a German watch brand? Are they up for a collab?”
Of course.
Among another oddly-matched list of "names" including Joan Rivers, Bonnie Tyler, Robert Preston, Tim Berners-Lee, Robert Schumann, Mick Hucknall, John Everett Millais, Nancy Sinatra, Tomaso Albinoni, Jerry Stiller, Boz Scaggs, Barbara Bush, James Darren, Colin Baker, Frank Lloyd Wright, Scott Adams, Alexis Smith, Francis Crick and - erm - Kanye West...
...it's Millie Martin's birthday today (and thankfully she's still with us, aged 92). Most famous as the regular singer on That Was The Week That Was in the Swinging 60s, she's had a remarkable career, on telly and on stage - not least as a Sondheimite, nominated for a Tony award for her part in the original cast of Side By Side By Sondheim
And, on this Tacky Music Monday, here she is as part of an estimable ensemble of West End luminaries [in Hey, Mr. Producer!, June 1998], singing one of the great man's funniest "patter songs"...
Love it!
Have a good week, dear reader.
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
Perfect for a Sunday.
And the weather? All over the place! Still blustery and battering our garden, but at least the rain held off today. Until tonight...
PS:
The demon spawn next door have been screaming all afternoon on their fucking trampoline. Thanks to a discovery by Madam Arcati, we have the perfect answer:
And so, farewell to the twinkly-eyed, devilishly handsome, suave and sophisticated Anthony Head, who died this week.
Many people associate him most, understandably, with his long-running character "Rupert Giles" in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I hardly ever watched the show.
Instead, like most Britons of a certain age, it is for this - the role that made him famous, the most romantic "soap opera" ["coffee opera", perhaps?] on telly in the 80s - that we remember him most!
He was so much more than that, needless to say. He had a much-lauded stage career, and as a singer released a few albums of solo work.
This, of course, was perhaps his most surprising role...
Don't get strung out...
RIP, Anthony Stewart Head (20th February 1954 – 1st June 2026)
The weekend hoves into view at last!
The weather may be persistently grey, blustery and forecast for more showers - but here's something suitably uplifting to get us in a party mood...
So whip on your best flouncy pink satin jumpsuit, sing along with Gonzalez - and Thank Disco It's Friday!
Have a fab one, dear reader!
I think we are well overdue, dear reader, another little selection of some of the "newer" choons that have caught my ear of late, don't you..?
Let's start with something completely unexpected - and rather wonderful:
Next up, a new one from everyone's fave gay Glam-Rocker:
It's always good to hear something new from one of my most revered bands of the 80s - and it is indeed [gulp] forty years this year since Notorious was released - with "their friend Nile". I love the pastiche of Top of the Pops in this video, too:
One of our most cherished divas of late has put together what she's calling a "visual album" on her YouTube channel - and from it, I adore this one:
Speaking of "Divas", our beloved Princess has released a brand new track to accompany her Netflix documentary. Perhaps not destined to rank amongst her classic back-catalogue, but it has charm, nonetheless:
But - saving the best to last - THIS!
As ever, I love to know your thoughts...
...choose carefully; and always take a map!
[click to embiggen - oo-er, Missus!]
From Vargic's Miscellany of Curious Maps. A must for every bookcase.
An office arsehole has greeted the end of the May heatwave by saying ‘Hope you enjoyed summer,’ and the worst of it is that he may well be correct.
Martin Bishop, aged 44, has accosted everyone he meets with the one-liner he mistakenly believes to be the pinnacle of ironic British humour, but is more likely to be an entirely accurate forecast.
He continued: “Apparently summer’s on a Wednesday next year! Eh? Eh? You like that one? Why the sour face mate, only a joke.
“Three months of chilly drizzle’s only going to make you appreciate your holiday more. And my gag, which is as British as greasy fish and chips in soggy newspaper and will surely only get funnier as the grey weeks roll on.
“After all, you can’t get more British than complaining about the weather, can you? That stiff upper lip, battling through valiantly in the face of adversity. It’s a classic. Everyone here’s just a miserable bastard who hates to laugh.”
Colleague Emma Bradford said: “He’s right about us being miserable bastards, but it’s not laughing we hate. It’s Martin.
“Is there any kind of old pagan tradition about sacrificing a regional sales manager to the gods in order to banish the clouds and guarantee a good summer? Because if not I’m willing to start one.”
Of course.
[The "real" story? It's been pissing down, with thunderstorms, today.]
Oh, fuck. Monday again!
As we brace ourselves for the deep, deep joys that await us in the week ahead, let's pay due homage to the greatest of photogenic icons, Miss Marilyn Monroe, shall we, whose centenary it is today!
On this Tacky Music Monday, it simply had to be this:
...and this!
Have a good week, dear reader...
Boop-boop. De-fucking-boop.
STOP PRESS:
[click any Marilyn to embiggen]
It might have been a mixed bag of cloud, strong breezes, sunny spells and a distinctly fresher feel to temperatures today, but needless to say, I spent the afternoon [as I did yesterday, watering and pottering] out in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers - I dug out, investigated and re-potted some fuchsias whose leaves had been chewed by the dreaded vine weevils [I squished three adults, but thankfully, after washing their roots, found no grubs; they're lethal to fibrous-rooted plants], and potted up a load of ipomoea seedlings that had been languishing in tiny pods for far too long. That was quite enough for today.
With the forecast being for declining temperatures and possibly some rain in the week ahead, let us instead wallow in the lives of impossibly glamorous people, cavorting in exotic [well, Miami, anyhow] and sunny climes, shall we? - courtesy of the simply faboo Soft Tempo Lounge:
Ah, that's better.
[Music: Francesco de Masi - Diamond Bossa Nova]
The glorious heatwave that has held sway over the UK all week is having its last shout today (29C/84.2F) - from tomorrow, we're forecast to get back to near-normal temps with some showers by mid-week.
While the temperatures are still "up there", how about something totally cool, courtesy of Fred, Ginger and today's "birthday boy" Benny Goodman?!
Perfection.
Another busy - and very hot - week is almost over, and we need to get our party gear on sharpish, for (unforgivably), we missed Our Princess Kylie's birthday yesterday!
I'll send a belated gift. She won't mind. She's busy basking in her new-found adoration courtesy of that Netflix mini-series [which we'll probably never see unless it hits terrestrial TV at any time in the future]...
Obviously we'll let the lady herself get the party started in the most pertinent manner, with this guaranteed-to-get-you-moving classic - and Thank Disco It's Friday!
Many happy returns, Kylie Ann Minogue (born 28th May 1968).
Have a great weekend, dear reader!
STOP PRESS:
I thought it was too good to be true: over the past few days, all my posts have been arriving in the Blogger Reading List as normal. I thought it was (finally) fixed. But, no! This post has taken about twenty-four hours to arrive! I hate the fucking Google gnomes. They obviously aren't Kylie fans.
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? Still hot - and with more cloud about, oppressively humid. I've even heard a rumble or two of thunder! Oo-er.
Right now, everyone should be talking about the heatwave to the exclusion of all other topics. Here’s how to intervene quickly and safely if anything else is discussed:Know the symptoms
Non-heatwave conversations involve words such as ‘Asda’, ‘smoothie’ and ‘Mandalorian’ rather than the prescribed ‘hot’, ‘boiling’ and ‘sweaty’. Once you’ve spotted the danger signs, swoop in to redirect with phrases like ‘Bloody hot, isn’t it?’Administer hot weather clichés
All heatwave should be dominated with inanities such as ‘Too hot for me!’ Interlocutors should trade clichés like ‘Ooh, I wish I could climb inside a fridge’ and ‘It’s like an oven’. Do not dwell on the actual physical sensations of being forced inside an oven, as this may leads to digression. Simply agree.
Encourage a water fixation
Be obsessed with the idea that healthy human adults will pass out and die if they attempt to travel any distance without a bottle of water. This conversation will self-replicate like a malignant cell as they start badgering others with ‘Have you got some water?’, even if the person in question is only going to the recycling bin.Quote scary numbers
It’s not a proper heatwave conversation without specific temperatures. Luckily most Britons are shaky on temperatures apart from 0 and 100°C and whatever the fuck Fahrenheit is, so feel free to throw in dramatic-sounding but made up stats like ‘It’s 93° in Bournemouth!’Don’t prevent sunburn
Sunburn will keep the conversation on-topic for several days as the victim bemoans their stupidity and everyone vows to use SPF 50 religiously. Encourage it by persuading people to join you in the glaring sun and saying things like ‘Who fancies another round?’ and ‘You look really stupid in that hat’.Watch for a conversational relapses
Idiots may try to talk about something more stimulating than the weather. Be prepared to throw any crazy nonsense out to stop them, for example ‘You know they’ve had to close Heathrow because the planes are dripping molten aluminium onto Kent?’Take inspiration from the media
The news is a great help at forcing the heatwave into conversation. Whether Guardian hysteria, Telegraph climate change denial or the BBC with its many regional reporters writing non-stories like ‘James and Donna plan to spend the afternoon in the garden’, to cite just one real example, it’s full of pointers to keep chat hot and dull.
Of course.
Hotter than Cairo?!! That's mad...
As happens every time there's a heatwave in the UK, however, my thoughts drift away to that idyllic long, hot summer of '76...
The heatwave hadn't even started yet in May 1976 - we had another month to go before the UK began to bake. The fashions, as I recall, veered towards gypsy skirts and maxi-dresses for women, cheesecloth shirts, corduroys and high-buttoned flared denims for men [before all that was cast off for the rest of the summer in favour of swimming costumes, of course], and everyone had centre-partings and flicks!
In the headlines at the time were "Gentleman" Jim Callaghan, our new Prime Minister, already facing falling Labour Party ratings; his predecessor Harold Wilson's controversial Resignation Honours list ("the Lavender List") was published, with a number of dodgy businessmen given peerages; we were celebrating the inaugural flight of Concorde to New York; former "millionaire's playground" the Lebanon was in flames in a bloody civil war; all eyes were on British tennis champion Sue Barker for Wimbledon; and "Elsie Tanner" (Pat Phoenix) returned to Coronation Street after three years.
And in our charts this week (gulp) half a century ago? Abba's Fernando was at #1, and JJ Barrie, The Wurzels, Sutherland Brothers & Quiver, Wings, Rolling Stones, Robin Sarstedt, Bellamy Brothers and Miss Ross were all present and correct...
...but still hovering around in the Top Ten was this all-time classic Disco number [and it's not even Friday!] - probably the very first [only?] time an actual porn star became an international hit-maker!
It's still a fab song, even 50 years later!
I'm not looking forward to the office today, in this heat - "air-con, what air-con?!"
The weather here in London is breaking all the records! Being in the city, rather than near the sea, and with nary a breeze, it's a bit uncomfortable to sit in for long - although we always welcome the sunshine; it's far better than our usual Bank Holiday drizzle...
On this scorching Tacky Music Bank Holiday Monday, there is only one number that will suffice:
Have a good week, dear reader.
