A Stand Up performance at the Golden Robes

It’s the Golden Robes and back for a repeat performance as MC was giant gabber jaws Ricky Gervais. Threatening before hand to misbehave and not be a slave to a script or auto cue he accomplished this with spirited honesty.

But first one has to endure the red carpet, which really amounts to silliness on steroids and for some the main event, seeing it’s about selling fabric as it is about selling bums in seats.

Donning on my fashion hat as I am qualified to do, I feel it necessary to point out fashion faux pars, and lets face it ,the experts make a habit of getting it wrong on numerous occasions so What The Frock !

So who found themselves on the Good Bad and OMG list?

Good: January Jones sizzling in red sophistication, Grace Kelly revisited.Halle Berry’s sleek stealth black dress delicate but strong and Natalie Portman looking rosy and perfect and preggers.

Bad: Julianne Moore’s dress looked like an air bag had deflated on it.Sandra Bullock supported disobedient gothic bangs and a shapeless pink gown held together with staples. Angelina Jolie pouted purr-fectly in her Muppet green sofa upholstery long green sleeves. While Jennifer Love Hewitt appeared in a powder blue clam shell dress that could hide a few entrees - food for thought indeed !

OMG! Heidi Klum appeared as a Battenberg cake gone spastic while Kyra Sedgwick came in prison Gitmo apparel. Tilda Swinton’s Houdini straight jacket must have kept her busy all night and Helena Bonham Carter? Hmmm… aren’t you taking Alice in Wonderland a bit too far?

Traditionally the Gobles are a squashed drunken affair, housed in a tight ballroom where some of the most insecure of this world fall and fawn over each other captured by network TV hoping for a more relaxed affair - unlike the Oscars.

For us civilians it is a wide angled lens into the world of seismic self gratification and the occasion good slice of film. Asking for Ricky Gervais to MC is like asking the crazy Aunt loaded on sherry to spill family secrets. In his case its Leffe beer.As he warned, some of Hollywood’s self righteousness was about to be ripped a new rectum. He is the Wiki leaks of Hollywood and in truth it wasn’t all that harmful, just a refreshing spin on a shallow spectacle. Taking on Scientology in Hollywood is fair game in a culture that allegedly believes in liberal views. The gay outing of Tom Cruise is not new, but recalibrated in a way that reinforces the silly sham put forward by agents and the media.

Robert Downey Jr is a smack head, but he’s done rather well in spite of it so laugh of it off jerk! And go swap cocaine vials with Charlie Sheen.

Yes Tim Allen has nothing on Tom Hanks at least Mr. Allen is employed. And by the way just because “The Tourist” has two bombshells it doesn’t necessary mean instant classic, and perhaps bribery was its only friend as Gervais remarked.

Reports have suggested that the disappearance for nearly an hour was due to a Network bollocking. I rather think he nipped out to a Mexican truck stop for some welcome relief.

Whether Ricky Gervais gets asked back next year probably relies on what the ratings were, not that he cares much, remember, there were only two episodes of the Office and Extras, why over saturate?

If anyone is wondering why the tardiness with this report I was finishing a beer with Ricky…It takes more than an hour.

Cheers… Up your Bum!

Sympathy for the Disheveled

Keith Richards is a medical marvel and his immune system should for the benefit of mankind be on display at the British Museum as testament to a life thoroughly endured. From there a world wide tour must commence starting at the Smithsonian in Washington DC and cross the finish line in Paris at the Academie Des Sciences. Tickets for viewing will be restricted to two per person, smoking is permitted on the premises, however flash photography is prohibited and will be rigorously enforced (no amount of fancy photography can improve the looks of such a specimen)

After reading ‘Life’ the autobiography of broken teeth Keef Richards you fall between a feeling of repulsion and sheer wonder for such a person. This page turner of a book is packed with surprises, shattered myths and recipes for Bangers and Mash. While heavily serialized in The London Sunday Times there are gems of stories on every page. The belief that under such junkie turmoil one could actually remember such accounts of behavior would seem Herculean.
But there’s only one Keith Richards and possibly over the multitude of drug intake there was one that retained memory.

I was intrigued to find that Charlie Watts had a sharp left hook when Jagger pissed him off to great lengths and almost knocked him out of a hotel window in Amsterdam. In fact, feeling rather pleased with the outcome Charlie was itching for a repeat performance some days later. It was only when Richards pleaded with him that he reversed his decision.

The myths that follow such legends sometimes have to be finally dealt head on; such was the case with Marianne and a famous confectionary bar. This was pre Rupert Murdoch days where lies and fiction share the same bed. It was the local constabulary that fancifully constructed the idea that Britain’s favorite chocolate bar had been inserted somewhere other than an oral cavity. Indeed Miss Faithful was naked with only a rug for fabric shelter and there was a Mars Bar on the table nearby, but truth dictates it remained idle and still in its wrapper.

The fondness for drugs and the distress it caused Richards and for all those around at times is very hard to fathom. The extraordinary amount of planning one had to do to have junk at the next show in order to function was astonishing. Girlfriend swapping was almost as interchangeable as needles and yet Richards did not collect women the way Bill Wyman or Jagger did, counting and documenting as if it were a homework assignment. When Jagger received a Knighthood it was a fitting portrayal to who Jagger was; a social butterfly and in contrast, Richards would take no part in a world that some decades earlier wanted lock them up and throw away the key.

This is a most satisfactory read, however if you think that Mr. Richards has a enough money then gallop to the nearest public library where a Mandrax induced librarian will be happy to furnish you with a copy. Err… that’s if county council cutbacks haven’t already kicked in.

Pocket Size Perfection

Now that Michael Jackson has left the planet will the heir to his Pop-dom please rise. Prince!!
While a Prince is a King in waiting many would argue that Prince formerly known as Rogers Nelson has in the last three decades been the rightful King of Pop and Funk and R & B and Hip Hop and Rock the list goes on.

Last night I had the good fortune of seeing this fifty two year old midget from Minnesota perform. If that sounds mean then that’s because I am racked with envy…so there.
Coming from Minnesota where snow is a minor inconvenience the thought of New York’s recent blizzard cancelling this sold out show was never an issue.
Madison Square Garden is just a snowballs throw from the Tree house and no amount of inclement weather was going dampen my spirits.

Janelle Monae opened the show with a fine set of songs and visual display that in today’s R&B world is slightly refreshing. During the change over the man himself dressed in white appeared in the crowd with his I Phone and proceeded to greet everyone he could captured on video. This was a welcome move especially for the people in the high altitude seats.

The stage was designed in his familiar logo which I have no idea what it means but as a performance space it proves effective. All round vision again is a welcome touch that serves the audience well.

Dressed in purple seated at the grand piano we began the Prince experience. A non stop juke box of hits rained down from the PA backed by a hammer jack band.
It is a spectacle to watch him shred a guitar in stilettos and produce a vocal range with such force and emotion. At one point a gold plated guitar was used to show off another round of blistering solos. Rumor has it that Prince was in need of a hip replacement, well for us mere mortals perhaps with all those splits and what not, but no sign that this rumor is justified.

There were costume changes from purple to black to red, even elevated sneakers were employed after all those heels, give the man a break. Each costume made him look younger, it just makes you sick!

As a closing thank you he allowed people from the audience to get up on stage and dance and sing while purple confetti rained down. One such person was Cyndi Lauper who despite pop tackiness has a fantastic voice.

It was a pocket sized perfection of a performance. There is no fault line, no part in the two hour show where you could point to old age creeping in, effecting dance, voice or guitar playing. Quite simply, he was disgustingly brilliant!

A Very British Cock Up

A very British cock up happened yesterday in London. The Government agreed to raise the tuition fees for students attending University (I say attend because studying for some is a trifle far fetched) this vote broke an election promise no surprises there. Cock up number one.

Protesters gathered and soon things turned ugly, as always in protests you get the thug element that are out for a jolly scrap with the local constabulary and evidence of this was clearly seen on telly. While the anger is justified they got the wrong location, their fury should have been directed at the City, the Bank of England and the Investment and Securities Companies that put country and beyond into this situation. Bonus time is around the corner so save your placards and Halloween masks and Google where those institutions are. Cock up number two.

While parts of London were burning ( I believe the Clash wrote something along those lines) the Royal protection unit saw fit to drive head on into a foaming mob in the most ostentatious car available, the Phantom VI model by Rolls Royce. Passengers on this occasion were the future King of England Charles and his most unfortunate wife Camilla the Thriller duchess of somewhere. With shouts from some “Off with their heads” missiles and paint came next, smashing a window and wiping away all smiles from the peeved royals. Cock up number three.

Caught up in the riotous spirit was a young man called Charles Gilmour (England is littered with Charlie’s it would appear) who was caught on film climbing up the Cenotaph with determined zeal. The Cenotaph is a cherished memorial to all those who died in the wars fought by Britons. One doesn’t mess with that; it would be like pissing on the Alamo or burning the Stars and Stripes. He also happens to be the son David Gilmour, singer / guitarist of the Pink Floyd who sang “We don’t need no education”.

David Gilmour is one the richest men in England and the privileged up bringing young Charlie has with his Cambridge education, expensive suits jars nicely with this act of disrespect. No doubt daddy Dave will punish him by curtailing his beer allowance and sending him to his dorm to listen to Roger Waters’s solo albums. Cock up number four.

Cheers!

Wicked Wiki

Now that Wiki leaks has disclosed the exact the location of my Tree house and divulged to the world what a safe house it has been for foreign leaders, dignitaries and dirty diplomats, I must now make other arrangements for the bachelorette party I was planning for Kate Middleton future Queen of England.

I have only just finished cleaning up after that bugger Berlusconi who got up to heinous havoc in my hammock with some borderline legal senorita. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his bum chum alpha dog Putin was spotted by Hillary Clinton binoculars bare-chested cradling a hapless Medvedev in his arms.

You could imagine the paranoia in the room when Karzai, Kim Jong-Il and Hitler Ahmadinejad sat around my scrabble board dispersing filthy commentary about Sarkozy’s wife.

The French President went to great lengths to deny claims that he pimped out Carla to any willing European leader in exchange for more favorable grain subsidies. I must admit I took pity on him here; she only managed as far as Luxemburg where she was kidnapped by Sunni militants who sold her into the Burka sex slave syndicate and has never been seen since.

And didn’t the world already know that the Saudis were funding Al-Qaeda while buying fighter jets from the Americans?

There’s was a moment of hilarity one night when I was hosting a party for Gaddafi (Daffy indeed) who turned up with his well endowed Ukrainian nurse. Apparently he is afraid of flying which translated in into altitude sickness thus spending the whole evening at the foot of my tree declaring his ego wasn’t as big as perceived because he only promoted himself to colonel.

However it was reassuring to hear that the Saudis and Israelis were pissed at the US for not wanting bomb Iran. Perhaps there will be peace between those arch enemies after all.

Honestly, where is one going to throw a good party, now those Freedom of Information do gooders have killed all the fun? And I thought mortgage bankers were the terrors. Who’s going to buy my Tree pad now?

In the words of Rodney King “Can we all just smoke a bong?”

Kings & Queens Of America

Many a peculiar thing has happened to America after finding it’s independence from Great Britain or perhaps nowadays not bad Britain or so so Britain, one being; the crowning of music ions into Kings and Queens, albeit quite some years later.

Although the passage to the new world was rough and rougher still once settled, it didn’t half produce some incredible music. By the fifties and onto present day America the Republic has apparently shed its distaste for the monarchy and embraced the regal posture of the throne.

It would be hokum to see a peanut butter and jelly sandwich swap for a cucumber sandwich as in the case of the King of Rock n Roll Elvis Presley; Or to see James Brown the King of Funk opening the Houses of Parliament. Perhaps Johnny Cash the King of Country inspecting the Trooping of the Colour would be less strange. And of course most odd to see Eminem the King of Rap to deliver the Christmas day address to the nation, as for the King of Hip Hop Jay Z to present the winning trophy at Ascot.

Horrors of horrors to have the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin trade in ‘Freeway of Love’ for a stately minuet and Marvin Gaye the King of Soul open for the Buckingham Palace tea party with “What’s going on?”

Fancy hearing Prince Charles mumbling the Blues in front of the King of the Blues Muddy Waters and then clap out of time to the King of Folk Woody Guthrie singing “This land is our land” Prince Phillip would look equally out of sorts tooting his horn along side the King of Jazz John Coltrane.

Madonna the Queen of Pop has already claimed the throne due to the death of Lady Diana her words not mine!

And finally the man who wears gilded epaulets better than any official royal; the King of Pop Michael Jackson who wouldn’t be out place waving his white glove from the balcony of Windsor castle. All this adoption of the realm leaves me with the distinct impression that taxes haven’t been paid?

Midterm Scare

Which is more frightening Halloween or the mid term elections? Answer below.

America claims it’s the greatest democracy in the world. Hmmm…Well let’s see; it is a democracy and at times displays greatness that much is true.

But this greatness also stands shoulder to shoulder with scariness; perhaps the greatest scariness democracy in the world would be more fitting. With all its ballyhoo and pomp it is easy too want to fly to the furthest corner of the globe to escape the stench such as Hillary Clinton is doing. Her two week trip to the Far East and further is an act of skillful diplomacy in its self. Or what about a one way ticket to Mars as NASA is proposing. Or do a runner like Dennis Quaid and seek asylum in Canada.

Either way the midterms have become a cattle call for all the extremists, be it in the media, business, politics and entertainment world to behave in a fearsome manner. What happened to all that Hope? Generally countries outside the US (and sometimes habitants inside) have no real interest in the mid terms but because of the historic win two years ago with so much optimism non Americans are perplexed as such a change of heart. A quick fix was never in the mix, how could it be? This story has many chapters long and deep and affects the world at large.

While it is important to vote, it isn’t half a slog these days to walk through the minefield of crap and come to the conclusion that there is very little direction home. Clearly the country is angry and there’s a lot to be angry about but this discontent is not helped by the choice of candidates.

All indicators point to a overhauling of Congress and a middle finger squarely placed before Obama’s face. But political schizophrenia has set in. On one hand you have bile surfacing from the Tea Party brigade and on the other, the ‘Hands thrown up in the air’ despair mob.

This schism invites each to conclude that the country is ungovernable. We have candidates who don’t know the constitution, others who are homophobic, racist, fraudsters, bigots, mentally unstable and actors pretending to be retired postal workers (Samuel Jackson) I guess this is to be expected in the greatest democracy in the world where everyone is accounted for.
But wait, so much money spent but so many voting machines broken… there’s a metaphor in there somewhere I think.

So which is more frightening? The Midterms, winners receive a clove of garlic. All the houses on Elm Street are foreclosed and Freddy is out of work; and what could be more haunting than a bunch of pretenders trick or treating at your door step this weekend.