last laugh?

Well, my good friend who intends to publish his semi-autobiography about me has had his MS refused on the grounds that it's a bit lewd. So? Find out in December when hopefully it will be published by the indie, Autonomous. (I'll provide a link for it when it's available to order) The last laugh is on you Macmillan.

The Entertainer

Speaking of Henry Kelly, the country could do worse than his none threatening, light hearted form on television these days. There's not many presenters of European themed game shows who when speaking to a Dutch man would have the nerve to make the brave observation that everyone is thinking.

Henry. So, I see you're from the Netherlands. I don't suppose you wear clogs, do you?

Dutch Contestant. Not these days, no.


Just give him some TV space. He was one of the less funny ones on Game For a Laugh. He's been called many things, tosser, wanker, and even a cheat, after it reportedly emerged in 1988 that he had been cheating on his wife. But hey, I'm sure we can give hima chance, even if we put him in a new production of The Entertainer, Irish accent an all. Imagine him delivering the line, 'I'd rather have a glass of beer.' (You have to be there).

Failing this he has taken on a new momentum on the web, courtesy of sites such as http://spacemonkeys.freewebspace.com/news.html which take Henry Kelly admiration to serious heights of worship, including audio snippets, images and even in sharing the proud news that Henry Kelly came '7th in the recent most attractive voice on radio Radio Times readers' poll. He finished above such reknowned broadcasters as Nicky Campbell, Steve Wright and Ed Stewart.'


On the subject of another Kelly, my mate reckons that Lorraine Kelly gets more and more sexy with every passing child she drops. Now that would be a lovely thing for Mrs Kelly's husband to observe, but coming from a 32 year old bloke on the dole with debts, seems somewhat disconcerting.

Back to school

Not for me of course, but those on BBC 2's Art School (or whatever it's called.) For those of you with jobs, it's basically another of those programmes where 'celebs' are, presented as 'real people'. Well, ooh! What a fucking great insight that is. In this case it's as artists, with feelings, aww! And perhaps the one whose feeling the most by her horrified expressions and tears, and knowing head buried in her hands to capture the right level of anguish for the cameras is the wannbe earth mother, Ulrika Johnson. Can she take critisicm. No! (Can any of us?) But rather than just grumble and imagine all kinds of death for the art teacher/critic like any sane person would, Ulrika would rather sulk and show us how sensitive and deep she is.

As for her art work. Not too bad. Pedestrian at best. Her subject matter is a bit dull though. Naked women, an obession with the naked female form, and looks, naked children on a secluded beach, with her faceless naked mummy. As I said, not bad, but I've always found the obsession with motherhood in art to be sooo boring. (I know I wouldn't understand unless I've been a mother and an artist at the same time...like I care) But what I object to is that somehow, if you're a mother, your feelings and sensitivity is somehow greater than anyone else's. I reckon they should have got John Leslie to critique her work. Now that would have been a picture!

By the way, I was going to put a pic of Ulrika but I thought I'd upload Henry Kelly instead. Because I can, and after the week I've had I'm past caring.

Barrymore's Appendix:Go to hell!

Oh well, here we go again. Been busy lately, drafting treatments, going to pitching lunches and the rest of it. Fritz is getting worried that since our last big project, Best Before:December 2001, we haven't really produced anything, or at least had anything worth producing. That's to be understood to some extent when you realise that the majority of people have no taste and are a bit thick. Don't believe me? Just click on that tab to the top right of your screen where it says Next Blog. (This isn't a blind link or an advert, promise) What you'll get is a random surf to the blogging community. No doubt you'll will see that I'm in very poor, and to some extent, whacko territory.

But that's besides the point, that commissioning editor from Five, was supposed to have understood my proposal for Barrymore's Appendex, a surreal four part comedy about Michael Barrymore, who happens to have a dodgy appendix, but also with an undertone which answers his critics, as a once popular and much loved British entertainer. All I got was 'But Barrymore woon't do it, he's in New Zealand, and besides, it doesn't represent Five's remit.' You got that right! This coming from the arseholes who repeated the ever so hilarious Peter 'all I have to do is over explain my witty observations at the top of my voice and repeat a few times for the dullards and they'll lap it up' Kay at the top of the Tower. I feel such a bitch tonight! While I'm at it, as I was watching, though god knows why, Bands Reunited:Frankie Goes to Hollywood, why the fuck do American programmes have to subtitle English accents? Do they think their viewers are deaf stupid or what? For fuck sake: IT'S FUCKING ENGLISH! Make an effort! Fuck me, we have to put up with more than enough American slang. Jeez, I ain't dissing ya, but you gotta have respect, you know what I'm sayin'?

But I've had some good news. For the past few years, a little known writer, has used my trials and tribulations for a semi-biographical novel about me, called REPILKA, which is being prepared for publication later in the year. (Yes, for real, cynics!) If you click the link on the right, called Gobsticks it'll take you to the authors other works. And no, I haven't slept with him, just in case you were wondering. Come on, what do you take me for?

So all, in all, a pretty mixed couple of days. By the way, Nighty Night really is a pile of shit, dressed up as 'ooh, look, clever dark comedy' , and why didn't no-one give a shit about Lucas and Walliams when they were funnier in Pie and Mash? Don't talk to me about comedy. My whole fucking life is a comedy.

Found that Hart and Soul?

This sit-com idea has been with me for ages. Since UK's Channel 4 has been scraping the barrell for years, and it's clear, due to the endless imports, the unfunny Leigh Francis and Peter Kay vehicles, 'reality' programmes and constant cheapo best of compilations, that the Canary Wharf building need my help.

With this partly in mind I've proposed a treatment for a new sit-com, a dynamic sit-com, which would actually feature actors and TV celebrities whose work WE ACTUALLY ENJOY, two characters who are remembered with warm affection and nostalgia, and actually possess at least one talent. Yes, Tony Hart and David Soul. Hence the title of the sit-com, Hart and Soul.

The pitch? Oh, I don't know, they play themselves. Tony Hart has a lovely modern studio flat, but is disturbed by his loud, heavy drinking, partying, pizza eating new neighbour above, the incorrigible, Soul, who is in the UK to land the BIG acting job, following Springer (which he talks about all the time) but has to make do with little jobs advertising E4 and all that. Meanwhile, Tony Hart, wants to sell his serious art works to galleries and things but alone at night, alone, he talks to Morph. The duo clash, argue, fight, smash things, but always have a begrudging respect for each other. I was going to up the ante a bit, and suggest that this version of Tony Hart had no heart and David Soul had no soul but I felt that this was just taking liberties. Oh yeah, and the theme tune would be the predictable T'pau's 'Heart and Soul' only mashed up with the theme to 'Hartbeat'.

Grimaldi Forum Ladies Room, Monte Carlo

I also promised a pic of the toilets, the kind of place Richard Pryor's Brewster would like to die in. But I don't think they were as beautiful as two years ago. These are from the ladies room, the men's are in blue. I apologise for the slight blur but you have to appreciate that I was in a rush to capture the aesthetic beauty, the stillness, the ambience...

Lovely Vache

As promised here's a cow from the Monacow parade.

Lindsay Lohan?

I know little or nothing about her. Well, this is not really true. I know that she is a hollywood actress (or actor if you're a feminist) and she also makes music. In either fields the quality is questionable. I understand that she is like most young females in this arena in that she is often prone to bouts of questionable behaviour and fit throwing.

I also have every reason to find Hollywood and everything it represents as largely mediorce and trivial and basic, actors included. In many respects what I'm saying is that they don't possess anything that interests me in the slightests. I don't care about gossip, their fame or money, they could walk in my room now and I would probably not bat an eyelid other than to say, 'Hey, what are you doing in my house at while I'm writing my blog entry...hey, come on, take a walk! No, really, get out!'

But with Lindsay something feels different. She interests me. I find myself curiously attracted to her. Now if you know me, you would understand why this is wrong on many levels. But, what attracts me about her aren't so much her looks but this plays a part but not for obvious reasons (although I can see she is attractive and has a couple of other points going for her). It isn't her questionable talent, but I did tolerate her in Herbie: Fully Loaded. In fact I used to have an orange VW Herbie called Hurbie. I couldn't drive it but Fritz would drive me around. Last time I was in that car you wouldn't believe the trouble I got in. But that's for another time. What draws me to her, is that she has an aura of madness about her. Behind that smile, and in those eyes is a crazy girl dying to get out. There's also something suitably masculine about her, something which feeds my curiosity, and intrigue. It's also in her voice. The idea that something dangerous and shameful lurks underneath. I can identify with most of these qualities. And because of this I find her lovely. Don't worry if you're reading this Lindsay, I'm too busy to stalk you and wouldn't if I could. By the way, Lindsay, what was Jamie Lee Curtis like to work with. I'd be interested in her auditioning for my next play.

I suppose for those of you who stumbled on this for hot gossip and are obsessed enough about her to keep reading, as I promised some goss about her, well here it is. As you know there was some concern that she didn't attend the Herbie: Fully Loaded premeire, in London, and had to rush home for 'family issues' or something. What actually happened, and I know this because, one of my colleagues was there, was that she had some videotapes to return. OMG, text that one fuckers! Apparently she had rented out 'War Games, D.A.R.Y.L and Cocoon'.

Michael Jackson's comeback?

Well, back safe and sound from Monaco. BTW, I forgot that the VIP Room bar was actually in St. Tropez and not Monaco. (It's been a long week, I know). Anyway, since it was partly a trip on business and pleasure I did spot a curious thing while I stopped over in Nice on the promenade de anglais. Noneother than Michael Jackson's lowkey comeback gig, which explains a lot. It's been no secret that since his penchant for court appearences his status in the US is rather low-key at the moment and it's been rumoured that he has been laying low considering his options.

It's also no secret that he has some financial problems which may account for his impromtu gig by the beach in Nice, and here I have the evidence. The gig itself was small, consisting of a set that included Billie Jean, Thriller, and Black or White after which he danced to the side to get changed into some Lycra for an encore of modern performance art dance. At the time of writing I believe that you can find him appearing on the Promenade around 10.30-12, giving performances, posing for pictures and inviting members of the crowds up to dance with him. Amazing.