Don't believe me, just watch

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

Here's something appropriate for the occasion, methinks!

Marvel Uptown Funk

Love it.

Earworms

One tries one's best, but sometime a song or three sneaks itself into one's brain, and takes some shaking out again. Such as...

...this one. I really ought to loathe it - a) because it features the tasteless trash that is Miley Cyrus; and b) because it's Country'n'Western - but actually, this "Dolly-lite" number is inescapably catchy:

Mark Ronson ft. Miley Cyrus - Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

Then there's this, which, if you disregard the chuntering rap in the middle that unnecessarily disturbs the flow, is obviously a tribute to Carlos Jobim...

Tom Misch feat. De La Soul - It Runs Through Me

This one was everywhere in the late summer and autumn last year, and has yet to go away from either the Radio 2 playlist or my head. [But is he really singing "I can't do golden rain"?]:

Calvin Harris, Sam Smith - Promises

And, of course, the Take That boys have an unerring ability to keep one humming their songs for days after one first hears them - it's their - ahem - everlasting appeal, I suppose:

Take That - Everlasting

Enjoy!

Fame puts you there where things are hollow

After a pleasant evening drinking yesterday with Madame Acarti's niece and nephew who are in London for a few days, we were wending our way back to their hotel up Drury Lane when we encountered a massive crowd and hordes of paparazzi outside the front of the Royal Opera House.

Now, we Londoners might sniffily sneak a peek at who was traversing the red carpet and then rush by, feigning disinterest as we head to the Tube.

But you can imagine the excitement of our visitors from Plymouth - where the most likely celebrity you would see might be Wincy Willis, or someone who used to be in Brotherhood of Man perhaps - as one by one the great and the not so great began to emerge from the GQ Men of the Year Awards.



We apparently just missed Orlando Bloom, thought we saw Elle McPherson in a passing limo, and obviously didn't see Elton (who would have been airlifted safely away from the cameras no doubt). We did see Gordon Ramsay, Liz Hurley [squeal!], Chris Evans, Lord (Seb) Coe, Mark Ronson and Daisy Lowe [scream!], Jimmy Page of Led Zep, Carol Vorderman [oooh!], Alan Carr - and so it went on.



By now Madame Arcati and I were past criticising the relative Z-list status, frocks and free-champers-induced stupor of various guests as they left (trying desperately to get their photo taken), and we were angling to get another drink.



Our visitors' enthusiasm was undimmed, however, and it took the sound of running water to remind our Jen that she was indeed dying for a pee and to stop shouting for Lily Allen because she's bound to have passed out under a table somewhere and not be able to hear her...

Oh the joys of welcoming tourists to London.

David Bowie - Fame