ITEM: Here I am trying my best to provide bloggage that is witty, intelligent and insightful, and people are still turning up here after searching things like ‘my first sex with washer women’ and ‘maggie q fuck film’. What is the matter with you people?
I’m almost tempted to adopt a ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ approach and attempt to drive up my readership by casually dropping phrases like ‘Pippa Middleton naked’, ‘Pippa Middleton sex tape’ and ‘Pippa Middleton’s fine arse’ into a sentence ostensibly about something else entirely. In fact, I just have.
It’s the tabloid press mentality: appealing to our prurience while professing to hold the moral high ground.
Erm, Pippa Middleton is still trending, isn’t she? These things change so quickly, and I easily lose touch.
ITEM: Sometimes The Imaginary Girlfriend can surprise me with her generosity. At the weekend we were talking about this brothel that has just opened somewhere in the world and caters to women, with a staff of stud muffins on hand to meet their every demand. TIG said that she would give me a glowing reference if I wanted to apply for a job and, in an act that’s totally out of character, she refrained from adding the words ‘as a cleaner’.
Call me ungrateful, but once I’d got over the whole feeling smug thing, all this did was reinforce my impression that the woman will lie about anything.
ITEM: I’m sure I must have seen The Blue Angel at some point, even though I can’t remember it. I stumbled across this story about the making of the film that’s too amusing not to share, but stop me if you’ve all heard it before. Star Marlene Dietrich’s English wasn’t very good at the time, and she couldn’t pronounce the word ‘moths’ in the song Falling In Love Again – the line kept coming out as ‘moss around a flame’. After 235 takes in two days the director threw in the towel, and told one of the extras to drown her out by shouting ‘Bring me a beer’ at the appropriate moment.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Hell of a blooper reel!
ITEM: It’s an adage of mine that you can usually gauge if you’ve made the right decision about something by checking who else shares your opinion – for example, in politics if Cameron and Clegg are standing shoulder to shoulder with you, then it’s time to shoulder them aside and go stand somewhere else.
And so I can feel nothing but sympathy for my vegetarian friends who are now having to cope with the news that Russell Brand has been voted the world’s sexiest vegetarian celebrity of 2011. First Hitler, now this. Guys, it’s time to order a steak.
I’m not denying that there aren’t some undesirables in among the ranks of us non-vegetarians, but we don’t crown them most sexy celebrity (I would have said we don’t put them in charge of a country, but then my whole argument would fall apart).
ITEM: What with having no television, I sometimes get a little bit behind in following the news, so yesterday I was delighted to learn about the whole Wendi Deng thing:-
Think what you wish about the Awful Antipodean, but his wife is a veritable tigress and deserves a modicum of our admiration (only a modicum, mind).
If one of the Dowler family had walked in and shoved a custard pie in the smug toad’s face then I would have applauded, but this guy was just a sad attention whore with hardly any thought inside his pointy little head beyond getting his name on the front page of the very tabloids he claims to abhor. He’s distracted us from a vital issue and enabled the red tops to portray Uncle Rupie as a hero/victim, and in parenthesis one can note that the guy couldn’t have done a better PR job for Murdoch if he was on News International’s pay roll. So good on Wendi for slapping the idiot, and I hope it hurt.
And I also hope when I’m an octogenarian billionaire that I have a woman who is every bit as smart, sexy and fiercely defensive of my interests to stand at my side.