Rock 'n roll is everywhere......

So I've booked a few days off work and have a whole bank holiday to relax, watch rubbish tv and stuff my face with whatever is nearest  - but no. Apparently I can't relax any more. Apparently editing is what makes me tick these days (or spending seven hours colouring in my own rubbish drawings - see yesterday's post).

Last weekend I was in Oxfordshire with some of the band i'm playing in doing some recording (for an upcoming album that you should all buy because it's going to sound absolutely beautiful and amazing - even the flute's in tune) and when I wasn't swearing at myself and somehow forgetting how to play three notes, thus necessitating the need to try over and over and over again, I was filming stuff.

The more I looked at the flowers in the garden, the more they resembled teenagers filming themselves rocking out. I even met a plant that danced like Iggy Pop. So what else could I do? i put them in a music video set to the incredible strains of Saw Gang Buzz - thanks guys!

So here you are - Rock 'n roll is everywhere......

The opposite of reality tv

So here it is folks, this month's task. Finally!

This month I've decided to tackle that traumatic subject of reality tv. Mostly how rubbish it is.
I watched The Hills the other day - what a crock of shit and I have to say that I'm a bit bored of watching Americans who look like Barbie dolls on telly.

I'm also bored of the shit magazines that stem from it, which pollute my eyes every time I stand in a queue at Sainsburys.

And i'm bored of the lack of stories or actual reality portrayed on my screen. How dare they tell me that this is what reality is. I live in reality - it's entirely more dull and exciting than the shit they are pushing.

I don't think I need to say anything else.
So - in order to counteract the rubbishness of reality tv celeb culture I've decided to document my own life. I'm going to use my not inconsiderable talents to portray my own particular brand of reality - warts and all.

So without further ado  here's episode one of The Adventures of Tommy and Baggy. A reality comic strip about the wibbly wobbly world of myself and my beloved beau. (Many thanks to Drew Barrymore and Burt Reynolds for lending us their likenesses on this particular trip to Hamstead Heath - we'll have to do lunch soon guys. No, Monday's no good for me. Or Tuesday. I have to cook dinner. WELL YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT.)

Episode 1: Baggy is shunned by a dog:

And here it is ladies and gentlemen......

Here it is. The very thing you haven't been waiting for for the last month.

Here is my baby for you to view, poke, distribute (TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW) and stare at open mouthed like George Osborne pretending to contemplate the economy when really he's thinking about whether to have caviar or quails eggs for supper and whether to visit the dominatrix or just dress in a giant nappy and run around the place for a bit.

Please let me know your comments below. Please don't make me cry. I haven't slept much lately!!



I'm afraid the quality is a bit shit - I think this is due to it being hosted on Youtube but if there are any people with more internet knowledge than me (perhaps the entire world) who has any useful suggestions then I will try and get a better version out.

If you're interested in hearing more by Looceedee (and why wouldn't you? She goddamn rocks, not only that but she lets me pilfer her music for videos without seeming to mind) then go and take a gander at her myspace

Gary does all sorts of lovely things you can have a look at here

Whilst Germaine, the muse Germaine is an enigma wrapped in a riddle. I can't plug anything she's doing right now as she, like a comet, can only be viewed for brief moments in a cloudless sky. Or something.

And thanks again to Roxy and Umber for their help on filming day. It really is a very good skill to make a fridge open by itself and they helped create one of my favourite shots in the whole thing.

As for the new project, I've been working on some things, which I will show you in the next few days. But for now I'm off to bask in the glory of a job well done (and hopefully vanquish the image of George Osborne in a nappy from my mind forever - perhaps I can gouge it out with a spoon in the eye.)

Ahhhhh, lovely........

Lazy lazy me, lazy me.....

There are worse things I could do......
Stockard Channing, Grease.

Okay so by now I'm supposed to have finished my film, by now I'm supposed to have announced my new task and I'm supposed to be showing you the glorious results of artistic something.

But I haven't done any of the above.
But fuck it - this isn't university. I don't have to prove myself. The sun is shining, I'm full of Hagen Dazs and I've got two series' of Northern Exposure to watch, so you can all just bloody well wait.

I have been doing something though -




I've been playing in an amazing and fantastic band (I'm the one unsuccessfully hiding behind the accordion player.)
So I'm going to hang on to their shirt tails and fly away for a couple of days whilst I finish the video.


Have fun lovelies xxxxxxxx

Are the Miliband brothers secretly like Team Lassoo?

Hello hello hello hello, hello hello hello hello....
Nirvana.

So I've been thinking. Do the Millibands behave like my family do?

In the middle of a state banquet does Ed Miliband tap David on the shoulder and nick his sausage? Does David sneakily show Ed the mashed up contents of his mouth during luls in conversation? Do you think one or the other has grabbed the opportunity to fart in the other's face whist walking up stairs? Can the Miliband family all quote extensive passages from Elvira Mistress of the Dark, or insist on playing The Harper Valley PTA to people as they enter the house for the first time?

With the importance of the labour party leadership contest coming up I realised that I couldn't live another day without finding out, so I asked a source close to both brothers. what this revealed was both enlightening and humbling:

 This picture was taken during the famous feud of 1997, you can't see it but Ed is actually compressing David's spine with his little finger. The feud went on for several weeks and consisted of the two brothers not only refusing to speak to each other, but actively hiding the telly remote control in more and more obscure places. It was never found and they had to buy a second hand one on Ebay (the 2 doesn't work.)

This is Ed after he was told by a close aide that David had told everyone in The Commons that he fancied La Roux.

This picture was unearthed from Ed's personal items and it's thought that the picture was doctored following the Christmas when James Brown died and David claimed that his music was overrated.






So there you have it kids. The Milibands. Just like my family - and a damn sight nicer than David Cameron.

Back in reality we shot the music video yesterday. It was a roaring success, you'll see the final version when it's cut together, very very soon. Germaine and Gary, my erstwhile stars, were god damn amazing. If I hadn't spent my entire salary buying a camera and then buying lots of other things to make my camera mac compatible, AND Woolworths hadn't shut down, I'd buy them a selection of pick and mix EACH. Not just the penny chews either.  Not to mention Roxy and Umber who made kick ass extras and made the fridge open eerily by itself.

What girl can ask for more? xxxxxxxxx

Oh no....

I'm worried about the cups.

Just yesterday they stood up and showed their true grit and determination, and this morning I came across a chilling sight:

The black thing is a bin by the way.
I think the powers that be found out about the revolutionary nature of the cups and are making examples.

I also noticed at lunchtime that the pile of dirty cups has been reduced. Significantly.

Poor cups.
All they wanted was for god to hate kittens.
It's a dark day for cup kind.

Mug flashmob.....

The mug stand off continues.
The mugs are getting angry. They are cold and filled with murky tea. Some of them haven't been drunk from in weeks, it's destroying their self esteem.

But the mugs are peaceful, they don't want to go to war with the humans.
They believe in peaceful protest.

They are also keen readers, so when they saw this reaction by a group of San Franciscans to the odious Wesboro Baptist Church (you know, the scum suckers who parade outside cemeteries holding banners that say things like "God hates fags" - probably not dissimilar to the upcoming policies of our new equality minister, Teresa May...) they decided to take affirmative action of their own.

Oh those crazy cups. It's as if they had nothing else to do during the work day.

(IT WAS DURING LUNCH I PROMISE!)

All you need is mugs.

Hello lovely people, apologies for the moody obsession with politics in the last few weeks. Everything is fine now, we're in the hands of a new government who will do nothing but make sure they live up to their myriad of election promises.

Phew.

And I can go back to screaming about proper things like feminism and dirty cups.

Yes children, for this week I have created myself a safe haven from having to acknowledge that the words "George Osborne is Chancellor of the Exchequer" aren't just a silly joke. I have made myself a bunker of art, where I'm stockpiling the nuclear weapons of ideas to one day fight the demons in my head. Like every good hippy should.

On Monday I'll be announcing what my challenge for the month is, by then the music video should be all lovely and filmed and will become a runaway internet success, spreading positive body image messages to women all over the world. Suddenly I'll be a huge and resounding success, finally maybe I'll find the love that always evaded me and I can hold up two fingers to all those bastards who called me names at school. FINALLY the world will realise that I should be it's supreme leader and ..................

Ahem.

Anyway, in the meantime I've been putting together photo stories with dirty cups. Essentially this is because the dishwasher on my floor at work has broken down and there's been a cup mountain stand-off going on for a month now. It's very exciting and nail biting. No one will own up to owning the dirty cups. So instead of being nice and washing them I decided to make "art" instead. It's a taster for next month's fun.
Enjoy........

Tune in tomorrow when the cups become a flash mob xxxx

Final draft

Fuck the election. I'm never thinking about it again.
Here's the newest draft. I've altered it to make up for the fact that a) I have no one to film a crowd scene with on Saturday and b) I've simplified the story a little so it's more coherent.
Read it if you wish.
Comment if you want.
There'll be a final draft before the shoot on Saturday but I won't bore you with those details.

CLOSE UP - EYES

The tired and wired open eyes of a woman. She blinks once then, panicked, looks quickly from left to right.

We pan back to reveal her face, and the 80’s pillow cover that vaguely props up her head as she lies back in bed.

Her face is too tired to be fraught. Jaw clenched, lips tight, tear stains marking her face.

We pull back further as she sits bolt upright, face suddenly gripped with fear and sickness. Her hands reach up and cover her mouth. Terrified she looks sideways.

INT - BEDROOM - MORNING

Daylight barely filters through the curtains to illuminate an otherwise gloomy room, with hints of cheap soft furnishing. Dust coated and depressed.

The doorway is open and empty. no one is there.

MS - BED

Our HEROINE flops back onto the bed. On the pillow beside her lies a photo in a frame, the glass is shattered.

The photo shows two people, our HEROINE and her BOYFRIEND.

A couple who are very much in love. BOYFRIEND has his arms lovingly wrapped around our HEROINE. She is, in turn, staring lovingly back at him. Their faces are smeared with chocolate.

CUT TO:

FLASHBACK SEQUENCE -

1. INT - KITCHEN - DAY: The lovers are cooking together, baking a cake. They laugh and hug, wiping chocolate on each other’s faces.

Our HEROINE happily walks to the fridge and opens it, it is full.

CUT TO:

INT - KITCHEN- MORNING:

In her empty, grimy kitchen, bathed in a dirty looking light, the door of the refrigerator mystically begins to open, illuminating the room with an ugly yellow light.

JUMP CUT:

INT - KITCHEN - MORNING:

Our HEROINE is standing in front of the open fridge, disheveled in a faded, bleach splattered dressing gown and bunny slippers, her hair is matted in front of her face, trepidation all purveying.

Her arms hang limply by her sides, and rhythmically clenching and unclenching.

CU - Clenching hand, chipped nail varnish.

CU - the fridge door, ajar. Inside we see some limp salad, red milk and an exploding mouldy pot of cottage cheese bathed in a green and orange light.

CU - Clenching hand, chewed dirty nails

LS - Standing in front of the fridge - the door opens a little bit wider.

She turns around and runs out of the room.

EXT - STREET - DAY:

A dirty, busy, grey lit London street. Our HEROINE trudges sadly down the road, holding a lonely carrier bag. She stops outside a cafe and looks at the window.

In the window is a row of beautiful cakes, like the cakes in a picture book. She puts her head to one side and looks at them dreamily.

CAPTION - NOTHING TASTES AS GOOD AS SKINNY FEELS 

Guiltily she looks away and keeps trudging.

CUT TO:

FLASHBACK SEQUENCE

INT - KITCHEN - DAY:

BOYFRIEND puts two plates down, he sits down and prepares to eat, HEROINE sits down too, but looks unhappily at the food. She sadly shakes her head, gets up and walks out. He looks helplessly after her.

END OF SEQUENCE:

EXT - STREET - DAY:

Walking past the rest of the window she can’t help but look in.

CUT TO:

INT - CAFE - DAY:

In the window of the cafe sit a happy couple, they look lovingly at each other and laugh, feeding each other rich looking cake.

CUT TO:

EXT - CAFE - DAY:

The carrier bag drops from her hand - spreading its meagre content of a wilted looking carrot and a child’s yoghurt on the floor.

Two people walk past, chattering happily, they look at the poster and then towards our HEROINE, who shrinks under their gaze. The pair nudge each other with vitriol and walk away.

Our HEROINE gazes down to her navel and pulls the waistband of her baggy trousers out, revealing a space where a stomach used to be.

INT - CAFE - DAY: The couple are loving rubbing noses

CUT TO:

FLASHBACK SEQUENCE

INT - LIVING ROOM - DAY

BOYFRIEND lies on the sofa, sadly watching television. Our HEROINE is doing squats, he tries to interrupt her, gesturing for a cuddle. She brushes him off.

He gets up and walks out. The door slams behind him.

END OF SEQUENCE:

EXT - CAFE - DAY: 

Determinedly wiping tears away she walks away. The bag and spilled groceries stay where they are.

INT - KITCHEN - EARLY

As before, the fridge casting light across.

INT - KITCHEN - EARLY

MORNING: door opens on an eerily empty room,

Our HEROINE standing in front of the fridge - pensive, hair covering her eyes., hands hanging by her sides.

CU - hands twitching CU - FRIDGE, open, beaming CU - Hands.

INT - FRIDGE:

CUT TO:

Hand reaches in and takes out the red milk, extra light cheese products and replaces them with a huge block of cheese, trifle, blue milk, more cheese and a massive block of lard.

COOKING MONTAGE:

Onions are chopped. Peppers are chopped. Eggs are cracked into a bowl. Butter is melted in a frying pan. Onions thrown in. Mushrooms thrown in. Eggs thrown in. cheese grated on top.

INT - KITCHEN - DAY:

Our HEROINE sits at the table, a giant sized omelette in front of her, she takes a couple of deep and very serious breaths, then, with a fierce look of concentration on her face, she tucks in. Fast and ferociously.

EATING MONTAGE:

1. Our HEROINE lies on the floor in front of a chair, on the chair is a pile of sushi. She is in the sit up position. She performs sit ups and every time she comes to the top she eats a piece of the sushi.

2. Our HEROINE is in the press up position, a bowl of roast potatoes in front of her. Every time she goes down into the press up position she eats a potato.

3. Our HEROINE is performing squats - after completing each squat she reaches out and takes a bit of an apple.

4. She stands by the blender in the kitchen and resolutely pours milk into the blender, followed by three cream eggs. She presses the button. After blending she takes a long swig.

MONTAGE ENDS

INT - KITCHEN - DAY:

Our HEROINE lies in amongst debris on her kitchen floor. She is panting and out of breath, her face is covered in crumbs. Surrounding her are pizza boxes, vegetable peelings and food wrappers. She looks extremely ill and has one hand on her stomach. A huge grin spreads across her face.

EXT - HOUSE - NIGHT:

BOYFRIEND walks up the path to the house, he rings the doorbell.

INT - HOUSE - NIGHT:

HEROINE leans against the wall, eyes closed, preparing herself. She opens the door.

MONTAGE SEQUENCE

they sit on opposite sides of the kitchen table, eyeballing each other.

She pleads, he turns his head away. 

She shouts, he shouts.

She slams her hand on the table, he stands up, angry. 

She looks up at him pleadingly.

He starts to get up and walk out but she runs past him and opens the fridge, he stops in his tracks as she pulls out a tray piled high with doughnuts.

She eats one. He watches, intently.

She eats a second, without licking her lips. Then she reaches out and takes a third.

He dares her, with a raise of his eyebrows.

Unblinking she downs it. Nonchalantly tossing her hair.

His jaw drops slightly, impressed.

She east the fourth, sugar beginning to cover her face. She opens her mouth and shows him the content.

He starts to laugh. She laughs too, spraying sugar at him.

He grabs a packet of cream crackers off the kitchen side and eats five in a row without any water.

They laugh hysterically and spray sugar / crumbs at each other. He chases her through the kitchen and catches her in an embrace. They hug triumphantly.

FADE TO BLACK

The revolution starts here. Apparently.

So cats and kittens we've been shafted.


Or at least we're about to be shafted. I've spent the last week, ever since loads of people decided that David "the melty faced boy" Cameron had won the last telly debate - and I realised that I must clearly live in a strange bubble with a filter that makes David Cameron not look like he's winning a debate but looking like a plummy twat who's spouting casual xenophobia coupled with rhetoric that doesn't reflect anything that his party really stands for, intertwined with looking like he might cry, in a strange grey mist that has made the world I occupy seem odd and not very fun.

But secretly I still had some hope. Despite my own, very much in-built distrust for any non labour politician I secretly hoped all the way through the election that I was just being cynical. I secretly hoped that everyone else was right about Nick Clegg not being the sort of man who'd espouse vaguely left wing views, views that were even more left wing than Labour, which he'd drop immediately, like Marky Mark dropping his Levis (in memorial of governmental change I'm only using cultural references from a pre Labour era) as soon as melty face gave him a cheeky wink. But, of course, I think was right. Bah. And I so used to love being right all the time. I blame Nick Clegg. 


Ugh got to stop that too.

Lib Dem supporters will argue that Clegg can't get a majority with Labour, that he's being fair, but I think it's still a question of ideology. His party espoused the views of the centre left - now he's forming a coalition with the right. To me that smacks of ripping off many of the people who believed his hype and voted for him. 

And as for tories? Apparently they're everywhere, like cans of Pepsi in an 80's kids film. I've started worrying, usually mid rant about how much I hate tories, that the people I'm ranting at might actually be tories, actual living breathing tories, in the room with me. You used to be able to spot them, the old ones had Mr Whippy hair, the young ones looked like date rapists, but they've clearly started to filter in to real society and now I'm suffering from electorate paranoia, we can't even smell our own any more.


So is it hopeless? Are we just sitting here waiting for everything good that the last government did (and yes they did do lots of good things, despite what the fucking press will tell you) to be picked apart whilst we wallow in our Big Society waiting? Like Bunny from Eldorado, waiting for his child bride to leave him broken and crying (okay I'm gonna stop this now!)


I say nay.


So we've been dumped.  So there's been swing to the right. But people didn't vote for Thatcher, they didn't vote for a right wing government, even if that's what we've got. They were duped into voting for the beliefs of the centre left. This tells me that the people of this country aren't completely self centred and full of old school - fuck the poor - tory values. They're just a bit stupid.


There's something else as well. Sure, melty face has taken over, but in my haze last night as I drowned my considerable sorrows with buckets of JD I realised that I recognised how I was feeling from something else. It feels like that moment after you break up with someone who you were with forever, although it hurts and you want to die, there's a glimmer on the horizon, through the pain a new life is floating out there, full of opportunity, waiting for you. 


So we lost this one, but we've now been given the opportunity to re-invent the left, to find a politic that accurately reflects our views. To take all these angry and disenfranchised people and have a revolution. 


Not just that but hey - because we're disenfranchised, hell we're finally cool again. We've made it kids. We're back at the edge.


Yes my darlings - we finally have a cause again. No longer will we have to deal with the accusations of our PC gone mad shenanigans, or having to support a government who for every Sure Start centre or Equality Bill turns around and introduces ID cards or starts a fucking war. We have been left to our own devices and now we are free to just fight, fight against the government. We can be revolutionaries again, re-invent the political opposition and change things for the better.


So maybe in this bleak time something good can emerge. We can find our oppositional voice. We can sing, scream, write and create the art of passionate opposition. We can lodge our distaste with everything that we have. If we're going to go down, let's go down fighting. 


And I for one am going to grab this golden opportunity with both hands - starting with this god damn music video! I'm filming it next Saturday, if you're interested in being in it please let me know below.


xxxxxxx

Okay, last one then I'm going to bed

For Phil

This is especially for Phillip Martin Barry Evans - I thought it was getting a little immature to attach David Cameron's head onto page 3 exploitees - apparently not.

If you don't already heart Phil - this is your time xxx

Transcript: Danni is convinced Greece's financial woes have their roots in the adaption of the single currency - and that David  Cameron was right to pledge last night he would never ditch the pound. She said: "If Greeks had stayed out of the euro - because you can't make a crisis out of a drachma."

Well ----- hands up who wouldn't do Danni?

Darren's love complication: day 6

The Opposite of Hate Election Special

I'm gonna dig myself a hole and get my head inside. 

I'm gonna keep my eyes closed, feel my heart drifting by, 

Life can be so ordinary, I did try to make mine good. 

But I made so many mistakes........

Drugstore

Welcome to The Opposite of Hate Election Special. To celebrate this momentous occasion I've decided to spend the night making lovely art from the pages of tabloids from the last week. I'm not sure what I'm going to end up with but it's better than sitting weeping and rocking back and forth whilst trying to lodge my head into a tub of Ben and Jerrys. 

Transcript: On our lovely model's breasts you can read two quotes of infinite wisdom from today's Sun.

1. News in Briefs - Hollie said rattled Harriet Harman's latest rant against Page 3 shows Labour have lost it She said: "Albert Einstein said "anger dwells only in the bosom of fools" - and they don't come more foolish than Harriet Harperson."

2. I was dismayed to read that Lib Dem and Labour battleaxes wanted to axe Page 3. I say good luck to the gorgeous girls with the natural bodies such as Danni, from Coventry, left, as opposed to the plastic Barbie doll celebs we see everywhere - and my boyfriend agrees with me. Rose Eyre. Hanwell, W London.

Dear Marie Clare Magazine.....

Dear Marie Clare.

I don’t generally read your magazine, if I wanted a glossy bound pile of ads I’d flick through an Argos catalogue. If I want toilet roll I'll grab My Weekly, or even go to the shop now I'm a wage slave. Hell, you don’t even seem to have those folded page perfume testers which were the only reason to buy your sodden rag in the first place (so I love to rub a vague hint of Yves Saint Laurent into paper cuts – problem??)

So it was to my massive surprise yesterday whilst waiting in the doctor’s surgery (Doctor Peters I salute you, you are a gentlewoman and a scholar) that I happened upon an actual article in your grubby little comic.

Bryony Gordon, who I’m assuming is some kind of journalist, was telling the be-oranged excuses for thinking people who subscribe to this grubby little publication (whose daily email bulletins take their editorial straight from the Daily Mail by the way) about the graduation from Girl Power to Woman Power.

Now be warned - I’m a moaning fun free feminist. I don’t even diet despite your parade of perfect images to guilt me into hating myself coupled with your useful tips telling me how to (this week Gwyneth Paltrow is espousing the health benefits of draining the blood from live kittens and then spitting it onto the pensioners that stagger past her West London mansion, instead of eating) AND I’ve never blamed a feminist text for destroying Girl Power by pointing out that the sexualisation of young women might be a bad thing. But frankly Marie Clare – this article made me hate you more than normal. Let me count the ways as Ms Gordon as she reminisces back to 1998 and the giddy joy of being liberated by five twats in their underwear:

"There, in Sporty, Scary, Baby, Posh and Ginger, was the ability to be whoever you damned well wanted to be."

Presumably as long as that was a Sporty, Scary, Baby, Posh or Ginger woman – dancing around in their underwear. Now I don’t want to be a bitch (okay I do) but I’m sure I heard somewhere that there was some sort of feminist movement prior to the Spud Girls???

But then she continues to argue that women are taking more and more of a prominent place in the world, (therefore Girl Power isn’t dead?):

"Deputy Prime Minister, Harriet Harman, is one of the most passionate advocates of women's causes that Westminster has ever seen; elsewhere, the female spouses of major world leaders are now players in their own right. Hilary Clinton has gone from First Lady to powerful politician, while Michelle Obama and Sarah Brown, both impressive career women themselves, appear stronger and more popular than their husbands."

1. When it comes to women’s issues Harriett Harman does rock. I agree. The problem is that everyone else seems to hate her,  and the gutter press do so exactly because of her shocking belief that people should be equal no matter what.

2. Sarah Brown and Michelle Obama are indeed both interesting, educated and cool women, I’m guessing this, of course, because all I’ve ever heard about is their clothes and hair, we stare at their feet and their handbags. Or if we’re really lucky – we have a good old judge off. Let’s face it, Michelle Obama could come up with a fool proof way to cut the deficit and save the world and no one would give a shit because she was wearing white shoes after Labor Day.

She concludes: "In 2010, we have Women Power at last."

Let me get something straight - The Spice Girls were a pop band. They made pop records and music videos. They had their pictures taken and made a rubbish film. The Spice Girls never added to the equality legislation in the UK, they never found a solution for the low level of rape convictions, they never raised awareness about domestic violence or women’s poverty, they never cut through the glass ceiling. They paraded around in different outfits singing someone else’s songs. Girl Power was not a revolution, it was not even a movement. It was a marketing slogan and a way to dress up sexualisation as empowerment. It cannot grow or change or evolve because it is nothing more than a distraction.

The truth is, Marie Clare, that The Spice Girls paved the way for Rhianna, Beyonce, The Saturdays, Lady Gaga, Girls Aloud and countless others to dance around in their underwear. Something Madonna had already done. Better. Way to change the world.

As for the rest of us? We continue to be judged on appearance rather than what lies below, but I guess you’d know all about that wouldn’t you? Being a shit rag filled with airbrushed “perfection” and the half baked opinions of clots like Bryony Gordon.

Yours with bile,

Tommy Lassoo.

Mummy I'm afraid of the government

In my hour of darkness, 
In my time of need,
Oh Lord grant me vision
Oh Lord grant me speed.
Gram Parsons.

Hey everyone. I've been feeling a little downbeat for the last week - it's either my menstrual cycle or possibly the fact that a snake oil selling, melting chinned, lying, conniving, bullshitting, scumbag Tory sack of shit is about to take over the country.

Okay it's not my menstrual cycle.

In case anyone who is thinking about voting Conservative reads this blog - which is probably unlikely unless you have no idea who you are voting for and you really a extremely stupid in supporting feminism whilst voting for a bunch of old boys - then I'm making a last minute plea .....

If you don't want a government in the UK who want to:

• Abolish human rights laws
• vote against gay rights - or just cure them.
• victimise unemployed people - IN A FUCKING RECESSION
• Throw us back into economic shit with cuts to front line services
• Grant tax cuts to the richest people in the country so they can keep their big fuck off houses
• Re-instate fox hunting 
• Listen to climate change denialists - or even be them in some cases
• Live in the pocket of Rupert Fucking Murdoch whilst vandalising the BBC
• Are supported by Simon Cowell

Then don't fucking vote tory. Don't vote for these fuckers. Please don't vote for them.

If you want more proof then here is some from The Independent; and the environmental impact, and their views on single parents, their views on fox hunting, their views on gay rights and their links with Murdoch.  Or we could just look at the holes in their manifesto.

I know Brown seems to have pissed a lot of people off - but he's nothing compared to the alternative.
So go out tomorrow and vote yellow, red or green, just don't vote blue,

Don't vote for David Cameron or any of his cronies

 I don't think any amount of artistic expression can offset those wankers.

Blah blah Demi Blah.....

There's nothing like an interview with a dull celeb to make you realise how many wonderful people there are in the world. I'm referring to Demi Moore's recent interview on Jonathan Ross.

Demi was interviewed regarding her upcoming film, which may or may not be as good as her other classics such as GI Jane (showing that skinny women could shave their heads) or, of course, Striptease (showing that skinny women can be plucky strippers). To be brutally honest the only Demi Moore film I give a shit about is St Elmo's Fire (showing that skinny women can be pointless coke heads) - and that's purely because I'm a sucker for rubbish 80's films. The interview was brief and consisted of a vague question about her film followed by a longer expose on how she manages to look like a 30 year old when she's clearly not.

The amazing thing about Ms Moore is clearly not her acting talent but the fact that she seems unable to age.

Now call me a boring feminazi, but aren't there more interesting people in the world? Aren't there more interesting subjects than staying young and beautiful? To me it felt a bit like listening to someone elses drug experiences - I can't give a shit if Demi Moore drinks plenty of water and doesn't vom up everything she's ever eaten any more than I give a shit about someone spending six hours tripping their nuts off, or hearing about someone's sleep patterns, bowel movements or work day. This stuff just isn't that exciting. That's why we have art isn't it? Because art is more interesting than the day to day crap that keeps us alive.

I might have a bit of a personal beef with Moore to top this off, she's been a staunch supporter of getting her kit off in the name of "empowerment". This is, according to the western press, a reason for celebration. Moore herself says:

"There's this idea that if you take your clothes off, somehow you must have loose morals. There's still a negative attitude in our society towards women who use a strength that's inherent - their femininity - in any way that might be considered seductive."

Okay Demi. Rely on the inherent strength that lies below your top and anyone who opposes it is just a jealous old hag - right? Clearly she's been spending time at the gym when she should have been reading about the formation of a rape culture (this links to an amazing article about rape culture - I fully recommend everyone reads it.)

Now I know that I'm being negative against a sister, and I can understand why Demi Moore clings so desperately to her looks. The approach of middle age is notably a difficult time for Hollywood totty - they either have to stay young or prove that they can act. Luckily for Moore, who I don't rate as an actor, a vast disposable income, lots of time on their hands and whatever fad rubbish that LA can buy can defy ageing.

But as for normal people - why the hell would you want to? And more importantly, why the hell should we be subjected to the mindless whittering of a pointless few when there are a great deal of wonderful actors in and on the periphery of Hollywood and around the world.

Anyway, as a two fingered salute I've decided to drag out a few of my favourites to show that we don't all have to be bored, there are a lot of women with lots of interesting things to say for themselves:

1. Isabelle Huppert
"It's not a public matter for me, being an actress - it's a really private matter. Most of the time that's what cinema is. It's public, it's private, and that's why movies create such an emotional impact. It's also very pragmatic. It's just work we're talking about. The rest belongs to me."

2. Ileanna Douglas
"Women don't want to be listened to. They only want to be agreed with."

3. Catherine Keener
"One director said I just wasn't sexy. It was hard, really hard. I left town for two months with my tail between my legs. But you have to kind of go, okay, maybe I'm not their idea of [sexy], but hell, I can have sex!"

4. Patricia Clarkson
"I think most people see me as much darker, more serious and possessing a certain gravitas, when I'm really quite insane. I guess I want everyone to see my insanity. I have a far more nutty and unpredictable side."

5. Ally Sheedy
"I started writing because I used to tell stories to the children who lived nearby and when I was six I started writing them down. I write poetry and plays, too, and writing is important to me. It is important for me to express my feelings and thoughts. If I'm feeling angry or wonderful or upset or happy I just write it out and reread the feelings over and over again. When I'm depressed I read something I wrote when I was happy and I can feel a great lift in my spirits. I love writing!"