London Car Bomb, Paris Hilton Fatigue & Al Gore

I awoke this morning to find my honorary hometown of London was under attack once again, this time from a rather crude car bomb situated in one of the busiest parts of LDN full of nails, gas cylinders and some 60 litres of petrol.

By sheer luck, the car bomb was stumbled upon and dealt with before it could serve its nefarious purpose and as I type stories of further suspicious cars are circulating the news agencies. I’m sure that over the weekend further details and theories will arise but no doubt the succession of Prime Minister Brown has acted as a launch pad for an attempted ‘reminder attack’ that there are individuals bent on the murder of innocent civilians.

Light relief is offered by the newsreader who refused to participate in the Paris Hilton charade and attempted to destroy the story with fire after ripping it up into tiny pieces. I only wish that Mika Brzezinski had tried to eat the offending news item, like a spy devouring the truth saving cyanide pill; her statement that “I hate this story and I don’t think it should be the lead” has gone some way to restore my faith in American media.

And I’m not too sure whether the fact that if Al Gore ran for President he would attract some 32% of Democratic support is a good or a bad thing. There seems to be lacking on both sides a real heavyweight candidate, hence the lure of Mr Gore who in retirement has certainly expanded about the jowls and gut. My only worry is that without a strong Democratic candidate America could sleep walk into a further four years of a mediocre Rethug leadership. We shall see…

Here’s hoping the weekend brings no successful terrorist atrocities in London, more newsreaders refusing to read out rubbish stories and the US producing a bona fida Presidential candidate.

Sporadic Internet Access

There is something very wrong about the above image but I can't quite put my finger on it...

Internet is hard to come by at the moment, apologies about that, more videos of me in action should be up and coming soon and I am fully clothed in them and my hair is massive.

Thanks for all the positive feedback regarding the commercials, makes me feel less of a whore. Better shoot as only got 7 mins of Internet time left.

Be seeing you!

The Kohler Shower Commercial

I'm sure this is what many of you have always wanted, the chance to see me naked in a shower behaving like an idiot...

This is one version of an advert that is running across the United States and was a real blast to film, great crew and great company and got to hang put in Barcelona for a few days.

If anyone needs a translation for my ranting, please leave a comment.

Trent Bridge

Staring out across the great river, watching the ducks navigate something that my dad always told me was a great place to kill yourself, yet they made it look so safe.

“Hidden currents” he would say mysteriously “suck you under, even the strongest swimmers”. Dad couldn’t swim of course.

A place for us, with the water, the blue sky, the City Ground and Trent Bridge in the distance; with the Green Line buses streaming over it: the 6, the 7/7a and of course the number 10 to Ruddington. Looking down at the floor, at the old railings all rusty, the lucky houses that had a great view in exchange for the danger of serious flooding and your shoes. It was home wasn’t it?

I remember when I asked us to go back and pay a visit, we never got round to it, which is typical. Perhaps best we didn’t, only good things rest there.

I love Trent Bridge, I love the memories, even if sometimes they make me sad but I never want to go back there.

The Strongbow Commercial

Here I am then, as many of you requested, in full Strongbow advert effect.

Please note that coming up to me and going "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" is not funny and never will be and no, I don't like cider. Worrying to note that on YouTube a whole bunch of asshats have made their own versions of the advert and posted them for all the world to see, below is a selection of some of the best ones. By best, I mean having your heart sucked out of your ears.

The Train Was Quite Busy...

The young man stormed through, it was clear that he didn't like it, how half-full the train was. As he despaired at the half-fullness of the train he began to punch the walls and flail his arms about whilst screaming.

His father looked weary, used to these out bursts no doubt, most people pretended not to notice the teenager with dark hair going ape-shit, smashing his fists red raw against the train carriage. Some people looked scared.

The young man turned to me and screamed:

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"

I looked at him and smiled, holding back the riposte: "Yeah, £18.70." Small victory rebutting a child with learning difficulties.

No one offered to give up their seat to alleviate his woe, including me, his father had to smother him to contain his rage, his tired face as his own son hit him will take some time to leave me.

The Horror of Gaza

Madness has seemingly descended upon the thin sliver of land bequeathed to the Palestinian people; that is little more than a ghetto for the 1.4 million or so residents.

The conditions in the Gaza Strip are bad enough; it is little more than a glorified refugee camp with poor infrastructure and high levels of child mortality and other far-reaching health implications. The last thing it needs is a senseless and brutal conflict between Palestine’s two political forces, which will frankly have massive consequences across the region.

After a terse and tense 3-month joint government between Fatah and Hamas, the status quo has collapsed into a bloodbath, with some 100 people dead already. The result is that once again Palestinian politics takes a step backwards, backwards to guns, violence and the creeping infringement of a fundamentalist Islamic government, close to the borders of Israel.

I have mixed feelings on the matter, on one hand I have respect for Hamas as a genuine political organisation that has the backing of large swathes of the Palestinian population; backing that stems in a frustration with the more gentle and therefore negated approach of Fatah (once again we are seeing a militarisation of the Islamic faith, caused by desperation with political isolation). On the other, I see behaviours and actions that will feed a Zionist and US response that will further damage the claims of the Palestinian people to a land of their own. They are playing directly into the hands of those that wish them the greatest harm.

I can only hope that in the aftermath, Palestinian diplomats come to the fore rather than the war mongers, who still believe the gun and the bomb will break their repression rather than engaging with the world politick to highlight and solve their woes.

Peace be with you all this weekend.

UK Media is a Feral Beast Don’t You Know?

Like a slow motion controlled demolition, as Tony Blair slowly collapses from power he keep shooting out plumes of verbal dust; this time his target is the British media who has kindly referred to as a ‘feral beast’.

I always saw the UK media as a two-faced, neutered, mutant cow with massive udders swollen with the milk of tedium. This feral beast that the Prime Minister refers to I only see when there is a witch-hunt over some minor celebrity, or a national fuss over a member of the Royal Family or perhaps whenever England loses at football. Paedophiles also seem to bring out the frothing, feral creature in the British press, that and Asylum Seekers…

Certainly, the drive for sales means that Blair is to some degree correct, truth and fact go out the window for a story that’ll sell papers or get people clued to the 24-hour news spam; apologies for inaccuracy are in small print next to the classified ads.

However, the content is mostly trivial, celebrity or titillation obsessed and all this feral activity is wasted in the endless search for mindless tat for us to get our knickers in a twist over. If only some of that vigour, aggressiveness and determination could be focused on issues that really matter: New Labour’s infringements into our civil liberties; the Middle East; the escalation of conflict with Iran; the debacles in Iraq and Afghanistan; child poverty in the UK; the list goes on.

A quick scan of the UK papers today brings back the endless recycling of the Madeleine McCann farce, immigration and a mum murdering her daughters. Only two newspapers run decent articles, on the deterioration of the situation in the Gaza Strip and the impact of a world without oil.

Where all this is leading of course is censorship, or as the politicians call it, regulation. This should be fought tooth and nail, as we already suffer with an unresponsive press that doesn’t hold our government to account for its actions; any external controlling body would only further restrict its ability to serve its purpose as a watchdog for the people.

For an Inner Satellite of Uranus

It must be hard work being an inner moon of Uranus, orbiting something that knows little of what love is, uses anger and violence to get what it wants, is cold and inhospitable and, aside from hating children and being a castrate, self-mythologizes laziness, misogyny and being ignorant.

I take that back, you are well matched.

Names usually have little relation to the person who owns the title but I can’t help but be reminded of the woman who pledged everlasting eternal love to Trolius before running off with Diomedes. Or in your case, Diomedes, Adeipho, Adelphos, Adrastos, Agatone, Alcander, Altair, Ambrose, Anatol…the list goes on.

Female inconstancy, changing without discernible pattern or reason; fickle and faithless. Has a ring to it doesn’t it?

You are well matched indeed.

I await the car crash when the abusive, violent Uranus is unable to control his base instincts by either lashing out in contemptible fashion or sticking his stub into something else. If there weren’t a child involved I’d say it was a fitting end for the pair of you.

And you call this love?

My Mistakes

My mistakes are made by me

Your mistakes are made by you

Whatever you do, you gotta' make it through

Whatever you say, you gotta' mean it too

And don't bother saying it if it ain't true

You can't learn from one mistake

You'll make two then three, you won't stop

And you think your future looks bright but it's not

You've lost it, might as well stop stop stop

Are you gonna' learn from your mistakes?

Or are you gonna' stay dumb?

Fred Thompson Looks Like Kelsey Grammer (Gipper Redux)

Very likely GOP Presidential candidate Fred Thompson is merely Frasier star Kelsey Grammer in heavy make-up...

But with some serious right-wing credentials and of course, the kind of persona that goes down very well with many voters across the US. Even though he hasn't declared that he's in the race yet, polls already have him as a comfortable third, possibly second, behind the grief whore that is Giuliani. So will the Rethugs go for Reagan-lite? Only time will tell.

I still think he looks like an elderly Kelsey Grammer though...

View From London's City Hall

Had the pleasure of doing a workshop for Stonewall yesterday, the gay, lesbian and bi-sexual lobbying group and the event took place on the roof of London's City Hall.

Took the oppotunity to take a few snaps of the stunning views across the city, made me feel very grateful to call London my home town and be part of one of the greatest cities in the world; maybe even better than New York as the sun came streaming down.

Very Public Displays of Affectation

(I'm not hotlinking by the way, I'd never commit such a sin but just love the image and the phrase underneath, kinda' seems appropriate)

It's easy to get suckered in, easy to be dragged down into posturing, empty, brutal bullshit. Can't believe it's taken me this long to see it.

How sad to use affection as a weapon, exchanging images and displays of love like strutting peacocks firing fecal pellets in a phoney war: "I'm more in love than you!" - the avian plop piles through the internet air - "NO! I'm more loved up than you are!" - winged ass beads are returned in rapid fire, a vulgar display of nothingness.

Parading love and affection like it's a toy, how can it be true and precious when it's used as a means of one-upmanship? There's celebration and then there is masturbation but it seems to me that you're wanking off a fake cock.

You get me?

As Bob Dylan said when he heard the cry of Judas:

"I don't believe you..."

I AM THE GOD OF WAR!

No seriously, I am and if you don't believe me I'll get out my fuckin' huge blades and mash you up.

Do you like my new beard and eye make-up?

Hair of God

I was teaching physical theatre yesterday in a lovely school in the London Borough of Havering, with a group of talented and gifted 14-15 year olds.

As the session drew to a close a particularly talented lad stepped forward and said:

“Can I touch your hair please? It’s amazing.”

Not quite sure what to say and taken by surprise but sensing the lad wasn’t taking the p*ss, I agreed to the request.

He touched my massive wig and beamed with joy: “That’s made my day, I’ve touched the hair of God!” and ambled off, waving to me as I gathered my stuff to go home.

You gotta’ love the kids.

Nana

Fucking hell.

Nana is losing her mind, her warden left a voicemail:

"She keeps putting her bra on over her jumper"

Is this how we have to go out? Who we are slipping away out of our heads, forgetting the basics but remembering the war; full of stories but no life?

The worse bit is she knows what she's losing and it induces a blind panic as she rages against the light.

Love you, miss you, hope peace finds its way into your heart.

Not Quite An Angel...

But pretty bloody close.

I love you.

For Alan Johnston

The observant amongst you may have noticed an icon, low down on the right hand side of my blog, an icon that is there to show support for the hostage BBC journalist Alan Johnston.
Alan Johnston was kidnapped, it seems now by the Army of Islam, on the 12th March 2007 and since that time there has been a great deal of concern and sadness as the events have unfolded.

The great shame, apart from the travesty of the enforced imprisonment of a journalist, is that Alan was a real voice for the people of Palestine; one of the only Western journalists remaining and willing to highlight the plight of the Palestinian people.

As time went on, fears grew for his safety and journalists far and wide came together, along with the people of Palestine and it’s leaders, to lobby for his release.

Thankfully today, a short video of Alan has been released; soon I hope it will be Alan Johnson himself that will be returned safely to his family and to carry on doing his job.