
"Old age is no place for sissies" - Bette Davis.
"All the boys think she's a spy, she's got Bette Davis eyes" - Kim Carnes.
Hurrah! Another light has appeared at the end of another tunnel, as the weekend hoves into view! As we try and crank up the adrenaline in preparation for the start of another weekend, so we call upon The Ultimate Party Band to provide our music...
...and, as we missed lead singer Marcia Barrett's birthday on Thursday, it's even more apt. So let's don our tightest white trousers and inappropriate levels of lurex, shake our tail feathers - and get spinnin' along with Boney M!
Wild about Daddy Cool, indeed.
Thank Disco It's Friday!
Despite some flashes of sunshine, this blustery day with all its grey clouds is not exactly conducive to a good mood.
Let us instead wallow in the cavorting of swinging young things way back in the mists of time - courtesy of those lovely people over at Soft Tempo Lounge - shall we?
Yeah, baby! Yeah!
Ah, that's better.
[Music: Nora Orlandi - Soho]
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? A bit breezy and a bit cloudy, but still mild for October. Thankfully!

Ever-reliable box office draw Tom Cruise has made a frighteningly expensive flop with recent film Digger because he broke his own Tom Cruise rules:
Don’t get clever
The most complex storytelling we want from a Tom Cruise movie is the bit where he explains how to break into the thing to get the other thing. Digger features genre shifts and a metanarrative. If his audience wanted their brains to hurt, they’d read a book.
Stick to sci-fi, action or sci-fi action
Do we want to see Tom as an amoral hitman? Fucking around in a mask at sex parties? No. He should be punching criminals, killing aliens or operating a cool computer with holograms instead of keys. Ignore that if your PC worked like that you’d be knackered after every Facebook post.
Tom must win
Tom always wins, and in a way that makes the audience happy. Valkyrie wasn’t brilliantly received because those watching it wanted von Stauffenberg to succeed in killing Hitler and win the heart of Eva Braun. They could change the history books if it needs to be a true story,
He should not have a personal life
Tom messed up with his bizarre Oprah couch jump, making it tough not to be distracted in dull moments by stray thoughts like: ‘I wonder what Nicole Kidman really knows about Xenu?’ To prevent further damage to the Tom we know and love he should put in an induced coma between films.
Running must feature
It’s become a joke, but we still want to see Tom running as fast as his little legs will carry him. We don’t pay £10 for the reliable Cruise brand and come away from the cinema feeling disappointed and cheated. We’ve got Ridley Scott movies for that.
He should learn his limits
Tom’s two acting skills are a winning smile and a surprised face with his mouth open, and that’s fine. You don’t need to be Christopher Walken to twat an alien with a pneumatic fist . When he overreaches it turns out badly. It’s impossible to watch Far and Away without coming out hating the Irish for what he did to their accents.
Tom must be the good guy
Tom has played a handful of bad guys, including a vampire, an assassin and a Hollywood producer, and his character in Digger is not a traditional Cruise hero. Audiences hate this. Tom must to stick to playing good guys who are unquestionably on the right side, such as members of the US military.
Of course.
After a tumultous time, health-wise, last week, and a busy weekend retrieving ancient relics stuff from our childhoods from the old family home in Wales, it's time to "face the music" and re-open that bloody laptop to discover what kind of a shit-show faces me on my return to work.
Fuck.
Meanwhile, however, it is the utterly gorgeous Mr Hugh Jackman's birthday today, so after blowing his candle out [wouldn't I just?], on this Tacky Music Monday let us wallow in his superb showbiz talents...
Have a good week, dear reader. I won't.
Well, this turned out to be a week I wasn't really expecting, what with the health issue, operation and clinical follow-ups. Needless to say, I have been off work since.
Regardless, a weekend is always something to celebrate - even if it will be a busy one. My sister and I (and History Boy) are off to our old home town of Caerleon in Wales for a short stay. Mother's tenant [for thirty-two years!] in our former family home handed in her notice a few weeks ago, and since the prospective repairs and upgrades needed to modernise the place for future letting are prohibitive, she has decided to sell the house. We're there to welcome several estate agents, a clearance man for the attic, and to generally give the place a bit of a scrub.
We'll be back on Sunday...
Meanwhile, let's get the party started with a double-bill from today's birthday girl, Miss Crystal Waters - and Diolch i Ddisco ei fod yn ddydd Gwener!
Have a great weekend, dear reader!
Alongside another cavalcade of ill-matched fellow notables, including Baroness Betty Boothroyd, King Zog I of Albania, Albert Roux, Matt Damon, Paul Hogan, Juan Perón, Rev. Jesse Jackson, Bruno Mars, Chevy Chase, Bill Maynard, Robert "Kool" Bell, Frank Herbert, Ardal O'Hanlon, Johnny Ramone, Ray Reardon, Ursula von der Leyen, Anne-Marie Duff, Sadiq Khan, and - erm - the wonderfully-named Ralf Minge [ a German football player/manager, apparently]...
... it's the birthday today of the lovely Sigourney (nee Susan) Weaver! Having taken her stage name from a F. Scott Fitzgerald character in her teens, it was obvious that she was born to be a dramatic actor. She studied at New York's Yale drama school alongside Meryl Streep, and progressed onto the stage in a number of critically acclaimed (albeit uncommercial) productions. It was from this vantage point that she caught the eye of one Woody Allen, who introduced her to Hollywood and to later legendary stardom.
It is obviously for the Alien series of movies that she really became an acting legend. Indeed, "Ripley" became a rare thing in the genre of horror/sci-fi - a believable and memorable character. Ever the tenacious actress, Miss Weaver never allowed herself to be typecast, however, and went on to take leading roles in such differing movie genres as Ghostbusters, Working Girl, Half Moon Street, Avatar, Paul and of course Gorillas In The Mist, for which she was nominated for the Best Actress Oscar. I particularly love her cameo as a "healer" in Jeffrey:
Sigourney Weaver's dedication to acting, to environmental campaigns and to human rights, and in particular to gay rights, is legendary. Often cited as a lesbian icon for her portrayal of strong, not simpering characters, she is in fact happily married with a child but continually stands up for the issues of gay marriage and anti-homophobia. Her ground-breaking film Prayers for Bobby set out to tackle the issues of religion and homosexuality.
And she sings!
...but, to conclude - this! [Of course.]
Many happy returns, Sigourney Weaver (born 8th October 1949)
Off to the hospital again this morning, for a CT scan. Oh, the joys...
Time, methinks, to distract ourselves with another little selection of some of the "newer" music that has caught my ear of late:
First up, darling Robbie hits the dancefloor - with a vengeance!
One of the best of all British girl-bands is back again, with another banger - and a suitably gothic flavoured video for the Hallowe'en season [just around the corner]:
Speaking of "the best" - Our Glorious Leader teams up with another currently dominant force of nature, combining their storytelling into one faboo number!
In complete contrast, another house favourite set of divas prove you can't keep a good libido down, no matter your age...
Also getting "down-and-dirty", the "junior Princess" teams up with a band of fellow Aussies [best known for rock music], on what is definitely what I call an earworm!
Saving (possibly) the best to last - let's finish with perhaps the dirtiest-of-dirty dancing queens of the lot! Love this:
As ever dear reader, I love to hear your thoughts...
Autumn is the favourite season of the arty and pretentious while being a bloody horrible time of year decent people abhor. This is why:
Rotting leaves
Girlfriend babbling on about the vivid carpet of colours autumn brings? Those leaves are the scarlet of death. Trees shed all their foliage, not giving a shit about the mess they’ve made, and a few days’ rain on those crisp leaves and they’re a mushy, slippery sea of rot.
Dark evenings
Every day brings an earlier reminder the long, hot summer is over and the next few months are to be suffered through. Soon it’ll be dark when you wake, dark when you come home, grey all day and the sun a stranger. You might as well have been born a bat and use sonar to navigate to and from your desk.
Hallowe'en
In more sensible days unravaged by this hideous American holiday you called it "begging" when ragged little brats whined for sweets on your doorstep rather than fucking off while you watched the telly in peace. But now you have to keep a bowl of treats by the door and pretend to be terrified by a five-year-old in a witch costume from B&M.
Fireworks
Which overlaps with four weeks of explosions outside your home, making you sympathise with those poor Ukrainians or Iranians or whoever. It would be worth the celebration if the Gunpowder Plot has been successful, instead of leaving us with the curse of politics to this day.
Spiders’ webs at face height
Why do spiders build webs at the perfect height for you to run into? Because they’re bastards. You can wave a hand ahead of you like Dumbo’s trunk but you’ll still get caught and the devil’s candyfloss will get into your hair while the spiders hide in a corner pissing themselves laughing.
Christmas advertisements
Still tastefully avoiding the season at present, but in a month they’ll have unleashed a heartwarming, jingling hell. The commercially-driven reminders you’ll soon have no money in the company of relatives you despise will be omnipresent. The only positive of Hallowe'en is at least it holds this back for a bit.
Of course.
They read my mind!
Did you miss me, dear reader?
Apologies for my uncustomary absence for the last couple of days. A "slight medical emergency" of the most annoying kind...
We were having a fun time at our friends Jim & Jude's home on Saturday night (they're lovely people, and perfect hosts), when it was time for the BBQ main course, steak with all the trimmings. Smelt delicious, looked delicious, I took my first bite, swallowed, and it got stuck. Fast. Not going up [I tried all that], and definitely not going down [nothing would pass it, no liquids - even saliva immediately came back up]. Dammit.
I spent the rest of the evening on their patio, spluttering and hoping it might eventually shift. It didn't. Nor did it shift overnight after we got home. Finally, yesterday morning at around 10.30am I decided - it's off to A&E after all...
Knowing those places are tantamount to one of Dante's Gates of Hell, I'm glad we didn't head there on a Saturday night. Sundays, it seems, are relatively quieter. Of course, even with a "fast-track" ticket, everything takes forever, and it wasn't until 4pm that we were transferred with great fanfare [literally: blue-light flashing, traffic parting, the lot! How exciting!] to another hospital further out that specialises in ear, nose and throat. It's at this point that we should all say "gawd bless the NHS" [it's all free], but FFS! Why different hospital trusts are completely incapable of corresponding with each other is a pain in the arse. Thus (apart from bloods), I had to go through a load of procedures (x-ray etc) I had already had done at the other place. Waiting around to get all that sorted wasted another few long hours [hospitals are not the sort of place anyone in their right mind wants to be longer than they need to], before I finally got to the point where an operation was possible - and went in for anaesthesia at 10pm! Ironically, the whole op only took the team half-an-hour to complete, before they bedded me down in the recovery room overnight and poor Madam Arcati - who had also not eaten all day - went home.
Suffice to say, now I'm finally out and back home again, I'm feeling a lot better. I shan't be eating steak ever again in my life..!
MEANWHILE:
We need something to make us smile on this Tacky Music Monday - and really, only today's birthday girl Mrs Miller will do on an occasion like this!
An uncanny knack for landing squarely between the beat - read my post about her from back in 2017 for more [if you dare]!
Have a good week, dear reader.
Slowly, slowly, the weekend is coming...
We have some jolly japes to look forward to, as tomorrow we're off en famille to leafy Fulham for a barbecue day at our chums Jim & Jude's place.
Meanwhile - it's time to get the party started!
Sharing the day with another ill-assorted slew of names, including the notorious Richard III, Mahatma Gandhi, Groucho Marx, Graham Greene, Donna Karan, Rex Reed, Bud Abbott, Annie Leibovitz, Sting (who is 75 years old!), Don McLean, Anna Ford, Trevor Brooking, Mike Rutherford, Tiffany (who's 55), Robbie Nevil, and - ummm - Badly Drawn Boy...
...it's Phil Oakey of The Human League's birthday! [He's 71...]
You might argue that this is an unusual choice for my traditional end-of-week dance slot, but I used to dance my tits off to it when I was a young aspiring New Romantic - so let's Thank Disco Synthesizers It's Friday!
Have a great weekend, dear reader!
It's another snippets post, dear reader:
And the weather? Very pleasant, sunny and warm, considering we have arrived in October...