I have been so angry about this all day that this is the first move I've made since coming home. No bath, no food, I just have to get this off my chest because I'm going to EXPLODE.
FUCK YOU DAILY MAIL!
And fuck you the 18,000 who complained about RB because you weren't his real listeners.
Let me say first I listened to the podcast the week it went out, half of it at work, and half wandering round on my ipod. And the only thing I remember thinking was, 'are they really leaving that message on his answerphone?' and laughing a bit. It was pretty funny when they kept ringing back and back; it WAS totally outrageous, but this is Russell FUCKING Brand. His whole schtick is being on the edge. If you don't want a presenter who is going to say close the the bone things, don't employ Russell-turned-up-as-Saddam-Hussein-on-Sept-12 Brand. It's not a difficult equation!
Do you know what really bugs me about this, though (apart from EVERYTHING)? The fucking Daily Mail contingent do NOT listen to Russell Brand anyway! So why should THEY deny me the pleasure? I don't try and get Littlejohn banned although he is completely and utterly offensive every week. Perhaps that's the backlash required. Let's get the fucking racist homophobe Littlejohn sacked in return, the fat fucking spudhead. COME ON, CENSOR ME, YOU FAT PRICK! No, you can't, can you?
Furthermore, Manuel, or whatever his fucking name is, said HE WAS NOT BOTHERED. He said there was too much of a fuss. And EVEN IF HE HADNT, wouldn't he be MORE offended by the fact his darling innocent granddaughter is in a group called the Satanic SLUTS, for fuck's sake? Perhaps he should have a words with that sweet, pure grandaughter of his about HER language!
And it is not anti-feminist of me to point that out. She was plastered over the paper today attacking someone who I genuinely care about, someone who I admire, and who is the greatest comedian of our generation (no, not Jonathan Ross). I've often heard Russell talking affectionately about her and her group or dance troupe or whatever they are on his show, and she is kicking him right in the balls in return. I hope her 'career' disintegrates, because Russell has a damn sight more fans than she does.
The whole ridiculous irony of the 'hurt and offence' is somewhat marred by pictures of her in fishnets and PVC protesting she never slept with Russell. Whether she did or she didn't, she should have, the dopey fucking mare. And as for the 'elderly' Andrew Sachs (alright, I've learnt his name now) that's the most AGEIST thing I've ever heard. Pathetic. He will probably get punched on the street now by some irate RB or JRO lover, so well done, you complaining ninnies.
Is Ponderland being shelved now? I'm fucking furious about this! I'm even furious about Jonathan Ross getting canned, and I could take him or leave him. He is pretty funny, if a bit crude.
My boyfriend said 'it's all for show and it will all blow over' and I KNOW that's true, and I KNOW they have to be seen to be doing something BUT it still makes me angry that we have to pander to these soppy fucking cunts going 'oh, I'm offended by it', then DON'T LISTEN TO IT! You're not offended by it, you just want to destroy Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross because they are both mega rich, funny, and happy. They actually have happy lives and you can't fucking STAND IT. You just wan the universe to be bland and one dimensional and probably full of gardening programmes and fucking Terry Wogan.
To all who complained; I HATE YOU! And Morrissey hates you, so there.
Forget vote Obama, reinstate Brand NOW. You're lucky he even does your shitty Radio 2 show.
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
Charlie Brooker: Dead Set
Oh my God! I just watched the first episode of Dead Set (I was asleep by ten last night so had to get it on catch up) It was fucking ace!!! I literally cannot think of anything better than a mixture of Charlie Brooker and Big Brother (with zombies on top). That is perfection!
It started off all Ricky Gervais being postmodern in Extras-style with one of the contestants clearly too clever to be in there. The dialogue was SO Brooker. I could imagine him saying it, especially the mustachioed producer's lines. I thought Jamie Winstone was excellent, too. The zombies were dead scary!!! The special effects were a bit good, weren't they?
It was funny watching an imaginary Big Brother. That's how the casual BB observer must feel about the contestants; they are just vacant idiots. But we get to know and love (and hate) them! I loved the touch of having the ex-housemates in there (Charlie and Ash-LEEEN! in cahoots again) and I loved Davina going all zombie-nation, her acting wasn't too shabby.
I liked the touches of someone going 'remember I told you' and how the contestants are basically just stereotypes. I liked the balance being thrown out by the cameras packing up, and them not being protected or watched anymore.
The best bit was when Jamie Winstone went in the house and they went 'are you a mong?' and she told the Brian Molko one he was the favourite. That was fab.
I want to watch the second one but I'm too scared!!! It has to be done though.
I love Charlie Brooker and he's intelligent as fuck and he loves Big Brother and he hates nearly everything, and that's a good enough example of living for me.
It started off all Ricky Gervais being postmodern in Extras-style with one of the contestants clearly too clever to be in there. The dialogue was SO Brooker. I could imagine him saying it, especially the mustachioed producer's lines. I thought Jamie Winstone was excellent, too. The zombies were dead scary!!! The special effects were a bit good, weren't they?
It was funny watching an imaginary Big Brother. That's how the casual BB observer must feel about the contestants; they are just vacant idiots. But we get to know and love (and hate) them! I loved the touch of having the ex-housemates in there (Charlie and Ash-LEEEN! in cahoots again) and I loved Davina going all zombie-nation, her acting wasn't too shabby.
I liked the touches of someone going 'remember I told you' and how the contestants are basically just stereotypes. I liked the balance being thrown out by the cameras packing up, and them not being protected or watched anymore.
The best bit was when Jamie Winstone went in the house and they went 'are you a mong?' and she told the Brian Molko one he was the favourite. That was fab.
I want to watch the second one but I'm too scared!!! It has to be done though.
I love Charlie Brooker and he's intelligent as fuck and he loves Big Brother and he hates nearly everything, and that's a good enough example of living for me.
Kerry Katona: Whole Again (MTV)
Ooh you can watch MTV shows on their website now, result. I'd do Peaches tomorrow. But first; Katona. After the This Morning debacle this week I felt quite sorry for her, and even more so after watching this show. You kind of get used to the gurning but that husband of hers is such a cunt, and I don't use that word lightly (well, half-lightly) . The way they speak to each other is absolutely horrific, I wouldn't talk to my worst enemy like that. He is hideous, abusive, and parasitic. His pet name for her appears to be 'freak'. Nice.
Her 'old' body wasn't even that bad. From the pics you see of her she used to look enormous, but when she was naked she looked fine, her boobs weren't even saggy, and she wasn't very fat. It's all the mental abuse and crap from the media that have made her paranoid. Surgery is such a bad example to set to boneheaded young teenagers. Kerry Katona started off in a girl band with a popstar husband, and now she's on some sort of drugs (prescription or otherwise), dating a taxi driver and getting cut up on TV. It's kind of depressing.
It was interesting seeing her go mega blonde as I am going super blonde again soon! The grunting egg she is married too grumbled 'I like it better brown'; of course you do, you wouldn't want her to actually be considered attractive by other people would you? You might lose your Darth Vader-like grip on her. Sadly, as long as she's doped up to the breast implants, I think he's got her firmly under control. Hey ho. It is sad that people profit from this wreckage of a relationship, and I guess sad that I am watching it, but really someone somewhere should say, stop. Or just not put her on. But it's too late to turn back now, so we may as well just rubberneck away.
Her 'old' body wasn't even that bad. From the pics you see of her she used to look enormous, but when she was naked she looked fine, her boobs weren't even saggy, and she wasn't very fat. It's all the mental abuse and crap from the media that have made her paranoid. Surgery is such a bad example to set to boneheaded young teenagers. Kerry Katona started off in a girl band with a popstar husband, and now she's on some sort of drugs (prescription or otherwise), dating a taxi driver and getting cut up on TV. It's kind of depressing.
It was interesting seeing her go mega blonde as I am going super blonde again soon! The grunting egg she is married too grumbled 'I like it better brown'; of course you do, you wouldn't want her to actually be considered attractive by other people would you? You might lose your Darth Vader-like grip on her. Sadly, as long as she's doped up to the breast implants, I think he's got her firmly under control. Hey ho. It is sad that people profit from this wreckage of a relationship, and I guess sad that I am watching it, but really someone somewhere should say, stop. Or just not put her on. But it's too late to turn back now, so we may as well just rubberneck away.
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Miss Naked Beauty
This programme was ridiculous! I only watched it because Platell slated it so bad in the Mail, (I think she's a homophobe) and I too hated it, but for a different reason. One. It is patronising as fuck. This 'natural beauty' thing is a crock; MOST of the women were still thin or normal weight. Conversely, I feel sorry for women who are genuinely thin and are constantly being told they are anorexic (but not THAT sorry). Two. It is NOT traumatic to have no make up on. You are not 'brave' or 'incredible'. It's your fucking face, you thickos! Deal with it, we have to.
It was cruel to make them wear bikinis then spray them with hoses though. Gok was giving it a load of flannel about 'the beauty inside' (is that why you lost several stone?) and 'loving yourself'. Also, what was the point in Mylene (in fact, that question extends far beyond this show).
It makes me angry/ sad to see how much the average woman on the street hates themselves and their appearance (even the beautiful ones). It shouldn't be that way. I hate fashion magazines/ makeover shows/ plastic surgery for making us feel that way. I hate fashion full stop- it is an entirely empty world.
This programme was just as vindictive in a way as 10 Years Younger; the women were still being judged on their appearance by a bunch of cunts (Mica Paris, dear God, please help me). It was supposed to be an anti-Miss World, but they were still harping on about wanting to do something 'worthwhile', as if the sight of a normal woman is going to rock the earth on it's axis.
Well it isn't. NB. I once saw Gok in the street in Covent Garden and he looked me up and down dissaprovingly.
It was cruel to make them wear bikinis then spray them with hoses though. Gok was giving it a load of flannel about 'the beauty inside' (is that why you lost several stone?) and 'loving yourself'. Also, what was the point in Mylene (in fact, that question extends far beyond this show).
It makes me angry/ sad to see how much the average woman on the street hates themselves and their appearance (even the beautiful ones). It shouldn't be that way. I hate fashion magazines/ makeover shows/ plastic surgery for making us feel that way. I hate fashion full stop- it is an entirely empty world.
This programme was just as vindictive in a way as 10 Years Younger; the women were still being judged on their appearance by a bunch of cunts (Mica Paris, dear God, please help me). It was supposed to be an anti-Miss World, but they were still harping on about wanting to do something 'worthwhile', as if the sight of a normal woman is going to rock the earth on it's axis.
Well it isn't. NB. I once saw Gok in the street in Covent Garden and he looked me up and down dissaprovingly.
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
Apollo Theatre: Rain Man
Woo- I've gone all high culture on you this week! Last night my gorgeous friend came down from Scotland to take me out to see Josh Hartnett in Rain Man. Of course, we both wanted to go for the purest of reasons: because Josh is hot.The last time I went to the theatre for that reason was to see One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest with everyone's favourite eyebrows, Christian Slater (sadly, his eyebrows have gone to seed). But Rain Man was actually much, much better. I have never seen the film (I have hated Tom Cruise consistently throughout the decades) but I think it was an advantage to go into it cold. I will watch the film now I've seen this though.
Despite missing the start (oops) we were soon up to speed. We had to sit on the end cos we were late, somewhere right up near the ceiling. That theatre is nuts; I had vertigo! For the first half we could only really see the top of Josh's head, which wasn't ideal; but I really enjoyed the story and I liked the sets, too. I liked the simplicity of them, and the way they changed over.
For the second half and in our rightful seats we could see a lot better. I thought the story was really moving and quite funny at times; I wasn't expecting to be laughing at it. I thought Josh was excellent; I was funny expecting him to be completely wooden (I've tried to get over his performance in Blow Dry but the scar remains) but actually he played this arrogant arsehole character pretty well. The English actor who played Rain Man was also excellent. I'm sure there are vast bits of the film that were missed out (could it really have ended like that?!) and I definitely had questions at the end (could Josh's character really be arsed to look after his brother forever?) but on the whole, it was a great show.
Afterwards we scurried round to the stage door to get a bit of extra Josh action. He skulked out, complained he 'couldn't look up and sign at the same time' then went back in again. It's a bind being so handsome and successful, isn't it? He did do a lovely smile in our direction, but this was the exact moment my battery on my camera died. Those Duracells are fucking counterfeit, I tell you!
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
Documentary- Dawn Porter: Geisha Girl
What does Geisha involve? Dressing up, serving, sex? It sounds like the usual story for the female of the species. Dawn looked as good as you'd expect in a kimono. The whole kneeling thing was kind of boring though and the domestic chores! I thought it was meant to be naughty. Instead it seemed a bit like a cult.
It was interesting how geisha is seen as an 'art' and involved a lot of discipline, but at the same time, they are like very conservative strippers or lapdancers. It seemed a strange dichotomy. It takes three hours to put all the make-up and clothes on! Christ! It really is bondage, isn't it, literally. When Dawn was properly trussed up, her sexuality was actually hidden. She looked kind of frumpy, not sexy. She did look enormous compared to the Japanese girls, too!
I liked it when she got all angry and stressed and claustrophobic, as I constantly feel like that.
I can't believe that stupid pillow she had to sleep on so she didn't ruin her hairdo. That was like torture equipment.
So it turns out the geishas never sleep with men. I'm not surprised seeing the effort it took to get into those outfits! I love the strange meticulousness of Japanese culture. The tiny little drinks. I love the aesthetics of the cardboard houses. But it's just all so rigid. I'd want to huff and puff and blow the house down too.
Why can't the men suffer for the pleasure of women for once? Can you imagine men spending three hours getting ready, squeezing their feet into too-small shoes and slapping on that much make up? Well, I can. But they aren't the sort that are interested in me, so there goes that idea.
It was interesting how geisha is seen as an 'art' and involved a lot of discipline, but at the same time, they are like very conservative strippers or lapdancers. It seemed a strange dichotomy. It takes three hours to put all the make-up and clothes on! Christ! It really is bondage, isn't it, literally. When Dawn was properly trussed up, her sexuality was actually hidden. She looked kind of frumpy, not sexy. She did look enormous compared to the Japanese girls, too!
I liked it when she got all angry and stressed and claustrophobic, as I constantly feel like that.
I can't believe that stupid pillow she had to sleep on so she didn't ruin her hairdo. That was like torture equipment.
So it turns out the geishas never sleep with men. I'm not surprised seeing the effort it took to get into those outfits! I love the strange meticulousness of Japanese culture. The tiny little drinks. I love the aesthetics of the cardboard houses. But it's just all so rigid. I'd want to huff and puff and blow the house down too.
Why can't the men suffer for the pleasure of women for once? Can you imagine men spending three hours getting ready, squeezing their feet into too-small shoes and slapping on that much make up? Well, I can. But they aren't the sort that are interested in me, so there goes that idea.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
The X Factor: First Live Show
Hands up who's sick of that Little Britain voiceover guy? He's on the adverts, he's on the quiz shows, he's probably even the fucking banker on Deal. Well, I'm sick of his schtick. He's more omnipotent than talk about the credit crunch. He's about as cutting edge as a night out with Duffy. So, perfect for the X Factor really.
So, let's get it out of the way early; I miss Sharon. I miss the unpredictability that she might punch someone. Cheryl and Dannii aren't going to punch each other, much as the producers would have us believe they want to. Cheryl is alright, don't get me wrong, but with her monotone accent and Dannii Minogue's mooing, it's like they are having a competition to see who sounds most like a geezer-bird. (I apologise for the use of the word bird, but it fitted with geezer nicely)
Dermot declared it 'a great honour' to go first; actually, it's normally first on, first out, so not so great. Here goes something:
GIRL BAND: Louis nodded furiously. They sounded flat and their dancing was stiff. The song had no high notes or low notes, lucky for them. They are quite ordinary, and the Quality-Street dresses were duff too. Why were the judges so kind?
AUSTIN (Allegro): Androgyny! I'm a boy and he's a girl and all that. Might look good in a dress? Did Sting which was unpleasant. Sang it OK but nothing to get excited about, despite his leather trousers. I kind of fancy him, and am kind of repulsed by him, so it's a weird mixture.
DANIEL: This years sob story (tm). He seems lovely but X factor? Non! Not with a name as catchy as Daniel Evans. Oh God, flat as the battery on my laptop (still dead!) Awful song. Styling. Dated. Dreadful. Haha Louis compared him to Ricky Gervais taking the piss! Meow! It's not 'sob story' Idol, Dannii. Next!
ALEXANDRA: Last week I wanted the little blonde Samanda lookalike in instead of Alexandra, but I have to say, she does have a good voice, the best so far, certainly. Sparkly! Diva! Pretty! But still a bit boring.
JLS: What does JLS stand for? I demand to know! Oh, they said. Jack the lad swing??? What the fuck? Are they dyslexic? I thought their voices sounded quite reedy tonight, but I thought they were alright in the auditions. Is it me, or do they all look quite... petite?
SCOTT: Just what the world needs, another Shane Ritchie! SWING! I can just about deal with schwing! when it was Leon Jackson dishing it out like a cut-price but still fuckable Josh Harnett. Shane Richie's love-child and I have to draw the line. SHIT! '110%'!!! Check! 110% was not enough in this case, peculiarly.
RACHEL: Oh dear. I know she's a cunt but even she didn't deserve being made into a cut-price Gabrielle. Her hair was nice before! Frowny, shrieky, shit outfit, dreadful dancing. Simon looked like I felt. Shame, as she has a fantastic voice, even if she looks like she will nut you if you look at her the wrong way. I wasn't buying her 'thank you, that's been taken on board' replies to the comments. It was like a robot giving you a kiss. Dannii fucked this one good and proper.
DIANA: My favourite by a country mile. There is actually something unusual about her; i.e. she does appear to have some star quality, or this mythical X Factor. Thank god she's ditched that frosty pink lipstick. Fuck, they gave her U2! And still she did it. She's great, fuck you Dannii saying she overdid the quirky. She IS quirky, i.e. not bland like you.
BAD LASHES: I think Bat for Lashes may have something to say about this band name, but I don't think she needs to worry quite yet. What are bad lashes anyway? Naughty lashes! Behave! Ooh Roxette! Power ballad city. They seem more sexy than Girl Band, a bit more rough around the edges, which I like. Cheryl called them 'spunky'. Simon rolled out the 'eating water' description again. He's used that one before, as Bad Lashes rightly (and impressively) pointed out just as I was writing it. Can we pull his string for a new metaphor?
EOGHAN: Try texting that in! Oh fucking hell, fucking IMAGINE! FUCK OFF IMAGINE! If I NEVER hear Imagine EVER AGAIN I will still wish John Lennon has been shot ten years before he wrote the fucking thing. I'd rather listen to the Frog Chorus. And yes, I have said that before. I've got Simon Cowell disease. I actually like Eoghan (or OWEN, if you're confused and reading this) though. He's good. Danni cracking onto him! Trying to steal Mrs. O's crown. Naughty!
RUTH: I just cannot, cannot, cannot bring myself to care. Ooh, Spanish. So what? AVERAGE! Ooh, Stars in Your Eyes ending, they havent had one of those for a while. PS. Ruth doesn't sound like a very Spanish name to me.
LAURA: Oh God, Alicia Keys. I want to punch Alicia Keys in the face. Her and Jack White could happily be sent to the fucking moon and left there if I had my way, the pair of vain, boring bastards. But anyway, this is about Laura. Despite Alicia, she has one of the best voices in the competition. Only Diana to beat for her.
Urgh, Dermot said 'cracking'! This is my number one pet hate of the moment.
Results show... mm, Leon flashback. He's the fittest midget ever! Drool! Mr Blister, who are you backing this year? There's no real Rhydian campness, is there?
I liked the fact they made the bottom two sing different songs as it's such a fast-forward fest when they sing the same song again. Ooh, deadlock. 'Citing.
Bad Lashes shouldn't have gone!!! I liked them. I liked the one with the big face, and I liked the one who had hair a bit like me. And I even liked their mild murdering of Wonderwall!
Well, it's certainly not like the British public to make the wrong choice is it? Much! Booo.
So, let's get it out of the way early; I miss Sharon. I miss the unpredictability that she might punch someone. Cheryl and Dannii aren't going to punch each other, much as the producers would have us believe they want to. Cheryl is alright, don't get me wrong, but with her monotone accent and Dannii Minogue's mooing, it's like they are having a competition to see who sounds most like a geezer-bird. (I apologise for the use of the word bird, but it fitted with geezer nicely)
Dermot declared it 'a great honour' to go first; actually, it's normally first on, first out, so not so great. Here goes something:
GIRL BAND: Louis nodded furiously. They sounded flat and their dancing was stiff. The song had no high notes or low notes, lucky for them. They are quite ordinary, and the Quality-Street dresses were duff too. Why were the judges so kind?
AUSTIN (Allegro): Androgyny! I'm a boy and he's a girl and all that. Might look good in a dress? Did Sting which was unpleasant. Sang it OK but nothing to get excited about, despite his leather trousers. I kind of fancy him, and am kind of repulsed by him, so it's a weird mixture.
DANIEL: This years sob story (tm). He seems lovely but X factor? Non! Not with a name as catchy as Daniel Evans. Oh God, flat as the battery on my laptop (still dead!) Awful song. Styling. Dated. Dreadful. Haha Louis compared him to Ricky Gervais taking the piss! Meow! It's not 'sob story' Idol, Dannii. Next!
ALEXANDRA: Last week I wanted the little blonde Samanda lookalike in instead of Alexandra, but I have to say, she does have a good voice, the best so far, certainly. Sparkly! Diva! Pretty! But still a bit boring.
JLS: What does JLS stand for? I demand to know! Oh, they said. Jack the lad swing??? What the fuck? Are they dyslexic? I thought their voices sounded quite reedy tonight, but I thought they were alright in the auditions. Is it me, or do they all look quite... petite?
SCOTT: Just what the world needs, another Shane Ritchie! SWING! I can just about deal with schwing! when it was Leon Jackson dishing it out like a cut-price but still fuckable Josh Harnett. Shane Richie's love-child and I have to draw the line. SHIT! '110%'!!! Check! 110% was not enough in this case, peculiarly.
RACHEL: Oh dear. I know she's a cunt but even she didn't deserve being made into a cut-price Gabrielle. Her hair was nice before! Frowny, shrieky, shit outfit, dreadful dancing. Simon looked like I felt. Shame, as she has a fantastic voice, even if she looks like she will nut you if you look at her the wrong way. I wasn't buying her 'thank you, that's been taken on board' replies to the comments. It was like a robot giving you a kiss. Dannii fucked this one good and proper.
DIANA: My favourite by a country mile. There is actually something unusual about her; i.e. she does appear to have some star quality, or this mythical X Factor. Thank god she's ditched that frosty pink lipstick. Fuck, they gave her U2! And still she did it. She's great, fuck you Dannii saying she overdid the quirky. She IS quirky, i.e. not bland like you.
BAD LASHES: I think Bat for Lashes may have something to say about this band name, but I don't think she needs to worry quite yet. What are bad lashes anyway? Naughty lashes! Behave! Ooh Roxette! Power ballad city. They seem more sexy than Girl Band, a bit more rough around the edges, which I like. Cheryl called them 'spunky'. Simon rolled out the 'eating water' description again. He's used that one before, as Bad Lashes rightly (and impressively) pointed out just as I was writing it. Can we pull his string for a new metaphor?
EOGHAN: Try texting that in! Oh fucking hell, fucking IMAGINE! FUCK OFF IMAGINE! If I NEVER hear Imagine EVER AGAIN I will still wish John Lennon has been shot ten years before he wrote the fucking thing. I'd rather listen to the Frog Chorus. And yes, I have said that before. I've got Simon Cowell disease. I actually like Eoghan (or OWEN, if you're confused and reading this) though. He's good. Danni cracking onto him! Trying to steal Mrs. O's crown. Naughty!
RUTH: I just cannot, cannot, cannot bring myself to care. Ooh, Spanish. So what? AVERAGE! Ooh, Stars in Your Eyes ending, they havent had one of those for a while. PS. Ruth doesn't sound like a very Spanish name to me.
LAURA: Oh God, Alicia Keys. I want to punch Alicia Keys in the face. Her and Jack White could happily be sent to the fucking moon and left there if I had my way, the pair of vain, boring bastards. But anyway, this is about Laura. Despite Alicia, she has one of the best voices in the competition. Only Diana to beat for her.
Urgh, Dermot said 'cracking'! This is my number one pet hate of the moment.
Results show... mm, Leon flashback. He's the fittest midget ever! Drool! Mr Blister, who are you backing this year? There's no real Rhydian campness, is there?
I liked the fact they made the bottom two sing different songs as it's such a fast-forward fest when they sing the same song again. Ooh, deadlock. 'Citing.
Bad Lashes shouldn't have gone!!! I liked them. I liked the one with the big face, and I liked the one who had hair a bit like me. And I even liked their mild murdering of Wonderwall!
Well, it's certainly not like the British public to make the wrong choice is it? Much! Booo.
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Documentary- Dispatches: The Hidden World of Lap Dancing
Sorry I’m a couple of days late on this one, but thank god for More 4, because I’m still without laptop. This episode of Dispatches followed a poor beleaguered reporter who was forced to go undercover in lap dancing clubs (it’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it). He discovered sometimes the lap dancers get a bit close (no shit) and occasionally, with the emphasis on occasionally, sex is offered.
Firstly, as a feminist, let me say I have massively mixed feelings about lap dancing. I completely agree that they should be licensed as sexual entertainment; not dancing. It IS sexual entertainment, and the law around them seems very ropey, and to have been designed with deliberate loop-holes. It does seem wrong. So I totally agree with that side of it.
BUT there is another side of it I just can't get excited about. I do not CARE if men want to go and watch women rub their fannies in their faces. I think the men are fools; they are paying mega bucks for what is essentially a load of hot air. I am also quite happy for women to make their money that way. It’s not what I want to do, but I am not going to deny others their liberty. Women are objectified everywhere you look, and it is depressing, but I can’t get excited about it when there are so much bigger issues facing women. To change the way magazines/ society sees women will take a hundred years, in my opinion. There are other fights we can win much sooner.
As for Mr and Mrs Jones going 'I hate the thought of what goes on in there' well, don't think about it! There is massively fucked-up stuff going on behind closed doors EVERYWHERE, but it’s none of your business. Part of it is just about one section of society trying to assert their moral values on another. One woman was like ‘we have to walk past it every day’, so what? It’s just like walking past a shop. It’s just a shop with a picture of a woman outside.
I understand to an extent why you’d be annoyed if there was a lapdancing club right beneath your block of flats because you might get comments from men/ a bit of hassle, but that is a problem with MEN, not lap dancing. And again, the licensing should be changed. That has nothing to do with what actually goes on inside the clubs, and the morality of it.
There is an odd group of people against lapdancing, and it seems a strange marriage between the very conservative and the feminists opposing the clubs. I want to really distance myself as much from the highly conservative people as possible; and I think feminists have a danger of looking po-faced and even anti-women in this debate. BUT porn and sex work is always something that divides feminists, and always will. I personally think prostitution should be legalised; and made safer. You can’t stop it. So make it safer for the women.
Personally I wanted to see more of the reporter’s FACE when he was getting the lapdances! I wonder if he got excited? Haha. Also, what amazing bodies the women had! Bloody hell. And how funny was that councillor bloke they interviewed for about 30 seconds? He was a comedy character in waiting!
So, licensing laws bad, busy-bodies bad, feminism doing it’s best and lap dancing not bad. That’s my position on it.
Firstly, as a feminist, let me say I have massively mixed feelings about lap dancing. I completely agree that they should be licensed as sexual entertainment; not dancing. It IS sexual entertainment, and the law around them seems very ropey, and to have been designed with deliberate loop-holes. It does seem wrong. So I totally agree with that side of it.
BUT there is another side of it I just can't get excited about. I do not CARE if men want to go and watch women rub their fannies in their faces. I think the men are fools; they are paying mega bucks for what is essentially a load of hot air. I am also quite happy for women to make their money that way. It’s not what I want to do, but I am not going to deny others their liberty. Women are objectified everywhere you look, and it is depressing, but I can’t get excited about it when there are so much bigger issues facing women. To change the way magazines/ society sees women will take a hundred years, in my opinion. There are other fights we can win much sooner.
As for Mr and Mrs Jones going 'I hate the thought of what goes on in there' well, don't think about it! There is massively fucked-up stuff going on behind closed doors EVERYWHERE, but it’s none of your business. Part of it is just about one section of society trying to assert their moral values on another. One woman was like ‘we have to walk past it every day’, so what? It’s just like walking past a shop. It’s just a shop with a picture of a woman outside.
I understand to an extent why you’d be annoyed if there was a lapdancing club right beneath your block of flats because you might get comments from men/ a bit of hassle, but that is a problem with MEN, not lap dancing. And again, the licensing should be changed. That has nothing to do with what actually goes on inside the clubs, and the morality of it.
There is an odd group of people against lapdancing, and it seems a strange marriage between the very conservative and the feminists opposing the clubs. I want to really distance myself as much from the highly conservative people as possible; and I think feminists have a danger of looking po-faced and even anti-women in this debate. BUT porn and sex work is always something that divides feminists, and always will. I personally think prostitution should be legalised; and made safer. You can’t stop it. So make it safer for the women.
Personally I wanted to see more of the reporter’s FACE when he was getting the lapdances! I wonder if he got excited? Haha. Also, what amazing bodies the women had! Bloody hell. And how funny was that councillor bloke they interviewed for about 30 seconds? He was a comedy character in waiting!
So, licensing laws bad, busy-bodies bad, feminism doing it’s best and lap dancing not bad. That’s my position on it.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Documentary- Dawn Porter: Mail Order Bride
This week Dawn went to Russia to investigate a ‘mail-order bride event’. So can you ‘buy’ a wife easily? I think some people can and do. But this event seemed very dodgy from the start; in fact I’m amazed they even let them film it, it was so badly run.
The ‘high-calibre men, doctors, lawyers’ promised turned out to be various dysfunctional Americans, ranging from ordinary looking to comedy moustaches and possible third-degree burns. Fine, if they were what they said on the tin, but the majority of them (i.e. all but one) seemed anything but.
One in particular seemed particularly vile, so Dawn did a bit of digging around on their backgrounds and discovered several had various convictions (including for assault).
Third-degree-burns dude basically said he’d been wrongly convicted of assault, and then muddied the waters quite worryingly by saying, ‘Imagine if every time you hit or slapped someone you got accused of assault.’ Er- that IS assault.
Also anything but what was promised was the agency itself. None of the girls were interested in the men, but instead came for the free food, and the manager’s scruples were somewhat shaky. Dawn asked about the men’s credentials/ criminal records, and the woman replied, ‘These are educated men, they know how to use the internet.’ When Dawn protested that the ability to click a mouse didn’t equal brains or morals, the woman said ‘there is a direct correlation between men who can use the internet and them not being violent.’ Tell that to a million abused children and battered wives. Dawn did go a little Louis Theroux at this point, but that was about as far as the challenge went.
The bizarre last part of the show surrounded Third-degree-burns guy telling Dawn she fancied him (not likely, mate) and berating a pretty Russian woman over dinner for daring to have talked to another man at the introduction party. Wasn’t that the point?!
And what was with that Christian guy handing out Jelly Beans with Bible quotes sellotaped on? It’s not my idea of a come-on, but hey, I’ll take the sweets.
All in all not as good as last weeks but still a zillion times better than anything Dave Gorman has ever put his name to. Dawn rocks.
The ‘high-calibre men, doctors, lawyers’ promised turned out to be various dysfunctional Americans, ranging from ordinary looking to comedy moustaches and possible third-degree burns. Fine, if they were what they said on the tin, but the majority of them (i.e. all but one) seemed anything but.
One in particular seemed particularly vile, so Dawn did a bit of digging around on their backgrounds and discovered several had various convictions (including for assault).
Third-degree-burns dude basically said he’d been wrongly convicted of assault, and then muddied the waters quite worryingly by saying, ‘Imagine if every time you hit or slapped someone you got accused of assault.’ Er- that IS assault.
Also anything but what was promised was the agency itself. None of the girls were interested in the men, but instead came for the free food, and the manager’s scruples were somewhat shaky. Dawn asked about the men’s credentials/ criminal records, and the woman replied, ‘These are educated men, they know how to use the internet.’ When Dawn protested that the ability to click a mouse didn’t equal brains or morals, the woman said ‘there is a direct correlation between men who can use the internet and them not being violent.’ Tell that to a million abused children and battered wives. Dawn did go a little Louis Theroux at this point, but that was about as far as the challenge went.
The bizarre last part of the show surrounded Third-degree-burns guy telling Dawn she fancied him (not likely, mate) and berating a pretty Russian woman over dinner for daring to have talked to another man at the introduction party. Wasn’t that the point?!
And what was with that Christian guy handing out Jelly Beans with Bible quotes sellotaped on? It’s not my idea of a come-on, but hey, I’ll take the sweets.
All in all not as good as last weeks but still a zillion times better than anything Dave Gorman has ever put his name to. Dawn rocks.
Monday, 6 October 2008
Corrie/ Enders: Waste of Paint
It's not often Corrie quotes Bright Eyes but it's fun when it does- Becky to Jason: 'you're a waste of paint!' I LOVED Becky's decline tonight; and she was right, Jason is too thick for her and he deserves whiney little Sarah Platt. I loved her complaining she spent seven quid on a candle before throwing it at him as he left. She seemed to have had her highlights done at some point between the first and second episode, and she looked cool when she leapt over the bar to beat the shit out of Jason. I loved her totally going nuclear and stealing someone's purse and smashing a window and then Steve Macdonald accidentally humping her. Her self-destruction seemed oddly realistic and genuinely heartbreaking at the end.
Also, how ungrateful is that bookie guy? Leanne is buying the betting shop for him and he goes out on the pull? Cock. As for Lian and Carla: I must have missed the episode where he had a brain transplant.
Enders was nowhere NEAR as good; Archie is too simple a bully; and would Peggy stand for it? This is a woman famous for her feuds. What's up with that guy who fancies Christian? He's a bit creepy, I think he's just after dirt on Ronnie. Christian, you're too good for him! I cant stand that woman dating Phil either; she's pointless and annoying. The only good thing is the paedo storyline. Whitney is excellent.
Final scores: Corrie 1- Enders-0.
Also, how ungrateful is that bookie guy? Leanne is buying the betting shop for him and he goes out on the pull? Cock. As for Lian and Carla: I must have missed the episode where he had a brain transplant.
Enders was nowhere NEAR as good; Archie is too simple a bully; and would Peggy stand for it? This is a woman famous for her feuds. What's up with that guy who fancies Christian? He's a bit creepy, I think he's just after dirt on Ronnie. Christian, you're too good for him! I cant stand that woman dating Phil either; she's pointless and annoying. The only good thing is the paedo storyline. Whitney is excellent.
Final scores: Corrie 1- Enders-0.
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Documentary- True Stories: Chosen
Last night I watched an utterly harrowing and affecting documentary on More 4. I don’t know if this has been on before but it is so powerful and definitely worth a watch on the catch up. You probably didn’t see it, because only someone as relentlessly depressing as me puts themselves through such painful stuff. I watched the one where they set up a camera on the Golden Gate Bridge to watch people topping themselves, too, and that was a laugh a minute as well, let me tell you.
Chosen was basically three interviews with three men who were abused by the same couple of teachers (and their friend) at a private boarding school at the age of 11. It was very simply shot, with no fancy special effects or reconstructions. It was literally just head shots of the men being interview interlaced with some photographs of them as boys. The fact that you could be so gripped by that for two hours tells you everything about the powerful nature of their words and their stories. I was totally lost in it, and afterwards I felt like their stories had become a part of my psyche, if that doesn’t sound too dramatic (oh, it does).
I was struck by the sheer dignity of these men; and how brave and strong they must have been as children to endure such horrific crimes. They were all so eloquent and composed on the surface; but you could see them falter often as they talked about the horrors they had been subjected to; and it was utter horror, repeated over and over. You could see how real it was to them even now, how it was just seared onto their memory forever. You can’t ever escape it or get over it, I suspect, you just have to learn to deal with it.
The loss of innocence, the fear, and the weight of keeping the secret all took their toll. I was impressed with the honesty of all three of the men, who admitted as victims they had felt special, it just became normal to be raped and it did not occur to them to tell their parents, and had even felt jealous when they found out they weren’t the only ones.
I can’t begin to imagine the inhumanity of their teachers, and that matron, who just looked on, but eventually blew the whistle. But even when the whistle was blown; the events were played down, the teachers got away with it, and the parents even sent the boys back to the school.
Not until years later once their parents had died did the men take action. On of the men said poignantly ‘our parents had thrown us to the lions’ but that instinct to protect their parents from the reality of the real harm that had been done to them was so strong. That was something amazing in itself, that they wanted to protect their parents, the way their parents had not been able to protect them. Some had not spoken of what happened in 30 years. Some victims would not come forward. But they had to speak out, because the abuse could have still been going on.
As it was, one of the teachers got sentenced to a miserly 12 months. The other got off scot-free, due to the passage of time/ good character/ blah blah blah. I don’t consider child abusers to be of good character, ever. The judges who make these decisions are just closet paedos themselves as far as I’m concerned; how else could they hand down such sentences? I hope they watch this film and weep and repent, because they need to. You could see the truth in the men’s eyes as they told their stories; it’s written there for all to see. The fact that one of the victims could describe the headmasters twisted testicle seemed to account for nothing. Their words; nothing.
Yet the grown men, the victims did not seem bitter. Utterly damaged forever, yes, but they forged own lives for themselves, with wives and children. They seemed glad they had stood up and been counted. They just wanted it not to happen again, ever. I don’t want to think that this could still happen these days.
But it will. And here my liberalness dissolves; because I say kill child abusers of this kind. Any man who can rape a child does not deserve to exist on this planet, and if that makes me sound Daily Mail, then I don’t give a shit. Because it can’t be more wrong than that headmaster, a man in a position of such trust, still being allowed to breathe air after raping children. It’s like knowing the bogeyman is still alive.
And what is the point in that? Just take the old man out and shoot him.
Chosen was basically three interviews with three men who were abused by the same couple of teachers (and their friend) at a private boarding school at the age of 11. It was very simply shot, with no fancy special effects or reconstructions. It was literally just head shots of the men being interview interlaced with some photographs of them as boys. The fact that you could be so gripped by that for two hours tells you everything about the powerful nature of their words and their stories. I was totally lost in it, and afterwards I felt like their stories had become a part of my psyche, if that doesn’t sound too dramatic (oh, it does).
I was struck by the sheer dignity of these men; and how brave and strong they must have been as children to endure such horrific crimes. They were all so eloquent and composed on the surface; but you could see them falter often as they talked about the horrors they had been subjected to; and it was utter horror, repeated over and over. You could see how real it was to them even now, how it was just seared onto their memory forever. You can’t ever escape it or get over it, I suspect, you just have to learn to deal with it.
The loss of innocence, the fear, and the weight of keeping the secret all took their toll. I was impressed with the honesty of all three of the men, who admitted as victims they had felt special, it just became normal to be raped and it did not occur to them to tell their parents, and had even felt jealous when they found out they weren’t the only ones.
I can’t begin to imagine the inhumanity of their teachers, and that matron, who just looked on, but eventually blew the whistle. But even when the whistle was blown; the events were played down, the teachers got away with it, and the parents even sent the boys back to the school.
Not until years later once their parents had died did the men take action. On of the men said poignantly ‘our parents had thrown us to the lions’ but that instinct to protect their parents from the reality of the real harm that had been done to them was so strong. That was something amazing in itself, that they wanted to protect their parents, the way their parents had not been able to protect them. Some had not spoken of what happened in 30 years. Some victims would not come forward. But they had to speak out, because the abuse could have still been going on.
As it was, one of the teachers got sentenced to a miserly 12 months. The other got off scot-free, due to the passage of time/ good character/ blah blah blah. I don’t consider child abusers to be of good character, ever. The judges who make these decisions are just closet paedos themselves as far as I’m concerned; how else could they hand down such sentences? I hope they watch this film and weep and repent, because they need to. You could see the truth in the men’s eyes as they told their stories; it’s written there for all to see. The fact that one of the victims could describe the headmasters twisted testicle seemed to account for nothing. Their words; nothing.
Yet the grown men, the victims did not seem bitter. Utterly damaged forever, yes, but they forged own lives for themselves, with wives and children. They seemed glad they had stood up and been counted. They just wanted it not to happen again, ever. I don’t want to think that this could still happen these days.
But it will. And here my liberalness dissolves; because I say kill child abusers of this kind. Any man who can rape a child does not deserve to exist on this planet, and if that makes me sound Daily Mail, then I don’t give a shit. Because it can’t be more wrong than that headmaster, a man in a position of such trust, still being allowed to breathe air after raping children. It’s like knowing the bogeyman is still alive.
And what is the point in that? Just take the old man out and shoot him.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Rant: The London Paper- Make-up on the tube (shock horror!)
Firstly, I hate the columns in the London Paper. You are not a writer because you think you’ve made some genius point about something stupid that no one outside London cares about anyway. You can’t write. You’re not funny. You're a stereotype. But you have ENRAGED me, thus, I will reply here, on my own terms, in my fantabulous blog.
Yesterday one of the readers wrote a lazy column about the so-awful-it-must-be-stopped-before-someone-dies INJUSTICE of people putting make up on on the tube. Except of course it’s not ‘people’ who do that, it’s women. A woman hating on other women! Well I never, what a shock. Women deal in misogyny so beautifully these days that we hardly need men to do it for us.
Apart from the fact the column is badly-written (that’s a given), I do not understand the complaint. I literally cannot understand it whatsoever. Talk of ‘modesty’ is a cloak for oppression as far as I’m concerned. This dimwit compares putting on make up to ‘cleaning your teeth’ on the tube. I’d like to see you try it, darling. (Ooh I came over all Littlejohn then, pet!) ‘Bulging make up bags!’ Whatever next? Bulging rucksacks full of bombs would be preferably, presumably. Also, ‘like wildfire’ is the laziest description ever. Don't even ATTEMPT to write if this is the kind of crap you are going to churn out.
If anything, I actually think I should be COMMENDED for putting my make up on on the tube. I’d like to see you do liquid eyeliner in the exact five seconds the train becomes stationary. In fact, I think it’s sexy when I see women putting make up on on the tube. I think they look cool, and it’s fascinating to see people’s routines. If you’re being ‘subjected to it’; try looking at something else. Read a book, you idiot. You don’t need to worry about me poking my eye out; I do this every morning, just to annoy clucking bores like you.
Things I don’t like to look at on the tube; other people’s armpits, babies, people kissing, people picking their nose, people eating KFC, JKFC and PFC, sanctimonious people tutting at someone putting a bit of lipstick on, people reading their papers on someone else’s back, people turning up their shit RnB music on their crappy mp3 players. Do you hear me complaining? Yes you do, but only because you have driven me to it!
I don’t WANT to get up early to put make up on. I want to stay in bed for five minutes longer. What kind of sadist wants to get out of bed in the mornings? I hate waiting at platforms, so if I can do my mascara whilst you stand there like a numpty fretting about how you’re going to squeeze into the next carriage, who wins? I got up late, and I’m filling in time, not getting stressed. I'm also small enough to fit into that tiny gap in front of you. Sweet.
As for the point that we are ‘ruining the illusion’, oh dear; are you the type of person who won’t let your boyfriend see you without make up on? Feminism lives! Sex with the lights off, is it?It’s not an illusion in my case, I don’t wipe my make up off at night and turn into a gargoyle, I don’t trowel it on to hide something. It’s merely a quick, painless enhancement.
‘White wine spritzers’- somebody shoot me. Also that last paragraph makes no sense either. Who are you, Bridget Jones?
I admit this is a particular hot topic of mine at the moment; I recently had a row on a messageboard about it (yeah, I don’t get out much, because people like the person who wrote this column are everywhere)! Morrissey, on one of his many underrated b-sides, sang ‘If you don’t like me, don’t look at me. There must be somebody else who can take your gaze away.’ And I couldn’t agree more. Look at some braindead bloke instead. You'll still be getting off alone because you're uptight and annoying.
Yesterday one of the readers wrote a lazy column about the so-awful-it-must-be-stopped-before-someone-dies INJUSTICE of people putting make up on on the tube. Except of course it’s not ‘people’ who do that, it’s women. A woman hating on other women! Well I never, what a shock. Women deal in misogyny so beautifully these days that we hardly need men to do it for us.
Apart from the fact the column is badly-written (that’s a given), I do not understand the complaint. I literally cannot understand it whatsoever. Talk of ‘modesty’ is a cloak for oppression as far as I’m concerned. This dimwit compares putting on make up to ‘cleaning your teeth’ on the tube. I’d like to see you try it, darling. (Ooh I came over all Littlejohn then, pet!) ‘Bulging make up bags!’ Whatever next? Bulging rucksacks full of bombs would be preferably, presumably. Also, ‘like wildfire’ is the laziest description ever. Don't even ATTEMPT to write if this is the kind of crap you are going to churn out.
If anything, I actually think I should be COMMENDED for putting my make up on on the tube. I’d like to see you do liquid eyeliner in the exact five seconds the train becomes stationary. In fact, I think it’s sexy when I see women putting make up on on the tube. I think they look cool, and it’s fascinating to see people’s routines. If you’re being ‘subjected to it’; try looking at something else. Read a book, you idiot. You don’t need to worry about me poking my eye out; I do this every morning, just to annoy clucking bores like you.
Things I don’t like to look at on the tube; other people’s armpits, babies, people kissing, people picking their nose, people eating KFC, JKFC and PFC, sanctimonious people tutting at someone putting a bit of lipstick on, people reading their papers on someone else’s back, people turning up their shit RnB music on their crappy mp3 players. Do you hear me complaining? Yes you do, but only because you have driven me to it!
I don’t WANT to get up early to put make up on. I want to stay in bed for five minutes longer. What kind of sadist wants to get out of bed in the mornings? I hate waiting at platforms, so if I can do my mascara whilst you stand there like a numpty fretting about how you’re going to squeeze into the next carriage, who wins? I got up late, and I’m filling in time, not getting stressed. I'm also small enough to fit into that tiny gap in front of you. Sweet.
As for the point that we are ‘ruining the illusion’, oh dear; are you the type of person who won’t let your boyfriend see you without make up on? Feminism lives! Sex with the lights off, is it?It’s not an illusion in my case, I don’t wipe my make up off at night and turn into a gargoyle, I don’t trowel it on to hide something. It’s merely a quick, painless enhancement.
‘White wine spritzers’- somebody shoot me. Also that last paragraph makes no sense either. Who are you, Bridget Jones?
I admit this is a particular hot topic of mine at the moment; I recently had a row on a messageboard about it (yeah, I don’t get out much, because people like the person who wrote this column are everywhere)! Morrissey, on one of his many underrated b-sides, sang ‘If you don’t like me, don’t look at me. There must be somebody else who can take your gaze away.’ And I couldn’t agree more. Look at some braindead bloke instead. You'll still be getting off alone because you're uptight and annoying.
Documentary- Dawn Porter: Free Lover
I started watching the documentary ‘Dawn Porter: Free Lover’ with a number of misconceptions. I put it on as a bit of fluff in the background, recognising her vaguely from Balls of Steel (a pretty awful programme, I’m sure you’ll agree). I thought, ‘Ah, here’s a poor man’s Daisy Donovan.’ And a poor man’s Daisy Donovan is very poor indeed.
Not so! I can’t stand Daisy Donovan, finding her an un-heady mix of dull and chronically unfunny. Dawn Porter, as it turned out, was quite lovely. Cute, sarcastic but nice, and most of all, brave.
She went to investigate polyamory, first in the US and then Germany (where else?) These weren’t people who had five or six wives, but just people who liked to share their love (i.e. shag around). All the men had ponytails.
In the US there was rather too much emphasis on ‘spiritual healing’ and dumb roleplay (and not of the dressing up like a nurse kind) for my liking. Still, Dawn threw herself in with aplomb, and came across charming, funny and very likeable.
In Germany they lived commune-style (like in a cult but without God, paedophilia and the expectation to commit suicide at the end of it). Dawn got under the surface of the place almost by accident and found out- what do you know?- that jealousy ran rife through the compound. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that there was a price to pay for all that endless shagging. Still the lure of three cocks or fannies on the go made the Germans stick around, endlessly seething that their partners were getting it off someone else.
So far, so predictable really; but Dawn herself really made the show something to talk about in the end by doing something I think Louis Theroux would have balked at. You always think you know where the line is in these kind of shows; i.e. Dawn was probably not going to join the sex cult and take on a few lovers herself. But about halfway through the show I thought, ‘hold on’ when she sat in the hot tub (what is it with sex and hot tubs?) with a bunch of them with her top off.
Then one of the German’s told her about the ‘oil party’ when they all pile into the basement (literally) and get covered in oil. He said something along the lines of ‘you end up not knowing who or what you’re touching, and we just become one mass.’
To my great surprise, Dawn decided to take part in it. And it really was a revelation; it looked very sexy somehow, and God knows how, because these Germans were not too pretty. They must have thought Christmas had come early when Dawn rolled up. There was no actual sex or penetration, but they basically poured oil on each other and themselves very slowly (I think someone was chanting or reading something too, it wasn’t like a foam party exactly) and then gradually they started to touch each other and it looked all slidey and arty and peculiarly horny. It did seem to challenge the very question of sexuality as these people writhed together not knowing who they were touching but getting off on it anyway. It also looked very cool.
Afterwards Dawn looked in a state of shock but buzzing as she told how some woman felt her crotch and she took it with good grace. I thought she was incredibly brave to have gone ahead with that; especially when documentaries of this sort are often so keen to stitch the participants up, or treat them with contempt. These people have invited you into their home, the least you can do is get naked and oily with them! Ha.
Is Dawn the new Louis Theroux? No. Would Louis have got stuck into the oil party? No. Therefore, Dawn wins.
I will be watching this again next week!
Not so! I can’t stand Daisy Donovan, finding her an un-heady mix of dull and chronically unfunny. Dawn Porter, as it turned out, was quite lovely. Cute, sarcastic but nice, and most of all, brave.
She went to investigate polyamory, first in the US and then Germany (where else?) These weren’t people who had five or six wives, but just people who liked to share their love (i.e. shag around). All the men had ponytails.
In the US there was rather too much emphasis on ‘spiritual healing’ and dumb roleplay (and not of the dressing up like a nurse kind) for my liking. Still, Dawn threw herself in with aplomb, and came across charming, funny and very likeable.
In Germany they lived commune-style (like in a cult but without God, paedophilia and the expectation to commit suicide at the end of it). Dawn got under the surface of the place almost by accident and found out- what do you know?- that jealousy ran rife through the compound. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that there was a price to pay for all that endless shagging. Still the lure of three cocks or fannies on the go made the Germans stick around, endlessly seething that their partners were getting it off someone else.
So far, so predictable really; but Dawn herself really made the show something to talk about in the end by doing something I think Louis Theroux would have balked at. You always think you know where the line is in these kind of shows; i.e. Dawn was probably not going to join the sex cult and take on a few lovers herself. But about halfway through the show I thought, ‘hold on’ when she sat in the hot tub (what is it with sex and hot tubs?) with a bunch of them with her top off.
Then one of the German’s told her about the ‘oil party’ when they all pile into the basement (literally) and get covered in oil. He said something along the lines of ‘you end up not knowing who or what you’re touching, and we just become one mass.’
To my great surprise, Dawn decided to take part in it. And it really was a revelation; it looked very sexy somehow, and God knows how, because these Germans were not too pretty. They must have thought Christmas had come early when Dawn rolled up. There was no actual sex or penetration, but they basically poured oil on each other and themselves very slowly (I think someone was chanting or reading something too, it wasn’t like a foam party exactly) and then gradually they started to touch each other and it looked all slidey and arty and peculiarly horny. It did seem to challenge the very question of sexuality as these people writhed together not knowing who they were touching but getting off on it anyway. It also looked very cool.
Afterwards Dawn looked in a state of shock but buzzing as she told how some woman felt her crotch and she took it with good grace. I thought she was incredibly brave to have gone ahead with that; especially when documentaries of this sort are often so keen to stitch the participants up, or treat them with contempt. These people have invited you into their home, the least you can do is get naked and oily with them! Ha.
Is Dawn the new Louis Theroux? No. Would Louis have got stuck into the oil party? No. Therefore, Dawn wins.
I will be watching this again next week!
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